A Season for Scandal

by Golden Angel

  “Any man in particular?” Mary’s tone was far more sympathetic. Leaning forward, she poured the tea for them all with an adeptness Josie envied. Not that Josie could not pour tea, but she had a tendency to pour too fast and overfill the cups. Mary filled it to the correct line in every cup. “Yesterday, we heard the banns read in church for Joseph and Miss Bliss.”

  Josie winced inwardly. Yes, this was why she had gone to her mother’s first, for all the good that had done her. She did not want Mary and Lily to know how flighty and inconstant she was. There was nothing to do but tell the truth, no matter how uncomfortable it made her.

  “Elijah. I am happy for Joseph… no, truthfully.” Mary and Lily had exchanged another look, and she sighed aloud. “I know it sounds fickle, but I think my feelings for Joseph are gone. What hurt more was losing the dream of marrying him than actually losing him.”

  “That actually makes sense.” Lily nodded thoughtfully, her dark eyes unfocused for a moment, the way they often did when she was analyzing a situation. “The two of you might have been a good match when you were younger, but…”

  “I outgrew him.” Josie wrinkled her nose. “Which sounds like an awful thing to say, but it is true.”

  “What is Elijah doing now? You looked happy enough at Lady Greywood’s last week.”

  Lily sat up straight, affronted. Unlike Josie, whose interest in the Society had been more prurient from the very beginning, Lily regarded the activities of the Society as a science experiment, maybe a social experiment. They had been present for Mary’s pre-wedding night education from Mary’s cousin, Arabella and Arabella’s friend, the Countess of Spencer. After that, Josie noticed Lily’s distraction whenever Arabella or the Countess and their husbands were around for her to observe.

  Lily was the one who had noticed that the Earl and Countess of Spencer disappeared almost every ball, only to reappear an hour or so later, with the occasional wrinkles in the countess’ skirts or the Earl’s cravat a bit askew.

  “You went to a Society event, and you did not tell me?” Indignation was written in every line of her body. “What was it like? Did you participate? Do you think Mary’s observations have been accurate?”

  “Hey!” Mary scowled. “There is nothing wrong with my observation skills.” For someone who had spent most of her life on the sidelines, observing rather than participating, Mary was affronted Lily might be maligning her.

  “There is nothing wrong with her acuity for observation, though she did leave out some details. Did you know men leave behind a mess for us to clean up when they are done with the marital act? And that they want to put their fingers and things in our bottoms?!”

  Mary blushed bright red, clashing horribly with her strawberry blonde hair, and Lily’s mouth dropped open.

  “Josie!” Mary hissed her name, leaning forward, eyes darting back and forth, and Josie scoffed.

  “These are things she should know, Mary! Elijah put his finger in my bottom at Lady Greywood’s and said he would do more, eventually.”

  “I really need to start watching when I walk into a conversation.” Evie’s appearance at the door of Mary’s drawing room caused an immediate commotion. The three of them jumped up from where they were seated and rushed to greet her. Evie’s expression was hilarious, obviously having overheard Josie’s statement, but that did not stop her from hugging Josie fiercely.

  “I did not know you would be here!” Josie said as she stepped away from her friend.

  “I did not know if I would be able to make it. I have a new position as a ladies’ maid for the Countess of Perth.” Evie’s lips twisted in a wry smile, and Josie finally noticed Evie’s appearance. She was so used to Evie’s various outfits, she did not always take note of them and what they meant. No longer wearing the drab browns and greys she had donned as a regular servant or scullery maid, she was now garbed similarly to Daisy, in slightly more fashionable and more flattering attire. “I shall probably be there at least ‘til the end of the Season.”

  “Will you be coming home then?” Josie perked up. Having Evie back in the household would make things far more tolerable, even if Elijah continued his baffling behavior. Maybe she could even help Josie made sense of it.

  “Possibly. It depends on if I find anything.” Evie sighed.

  They made their way back to their seats, Evie joining them on the couch. Someone looking in the doorway might be taken aback to see a ladies’ maid sitting and gossiping with three fashionable young ladies of the ton, but Mary was not at-home to anyone but them. The butler, Cormack, would see to it they were left alone, and Rex had already met Evie.

  “So far, whoever is behind these plots is acting as a puppet master, sending their minions to and fro. My uncle and Elijah are not any further along in their investigations than I am. The traitor has covered their tracks well.”

  “I suppose one would need to,” Mary murmured with a tiny smile. Evie wrinkled her nose at her, and Josie giggled. Like Lily, Mary could be very quiet, but she had a wicked sense of humor.

  Deciding to ignore Mary’s comment, Evie turned her attention to Lily.

  “Anything on your end? Especially from France or Russia?”

  “One of my correspondents on the coast has mentioned some unusual activity near the Talbot estates—the usual smuggling, but there were rumors not only goods were being passed along. No way to verify it from here, of course.” Lily frowned, clearly disliking not having the information to help.

  “Talbot estates… that is on the east coast,” Josie said, reaching for the information her mother had drilled into her over and over. It was not too far a reach. The Earl was new to his title after the recent death of his father and unwed, which meant Josie’s mother had been interested in him. Unfortunately, in her mother’s mind, he had not appeared in London this Season. “Lord Sebastian Jones, thirty-three, unwed, and not here for the Season, though he is several months out of mourning.”

  “How do you keep all of that in your head?” Lily asked, shaking hers. Then she frowned again, tilting her head as though trying to shake loose a thought. “Jones? Any relation to the Captain Nathan Jones?”

  Josie sat up straight, her mouth dropping open. She had not put the two together when Lily had said the Talbot estate.

  “Yes, that is him. But he works for Uncle Oliver!” Her gaze flitted between her three friends, looking for their reactions, but they all seemed as struck and worried as she was. “He is Elijah’s friend, and he was a captain in the army. He cannot be a traitor… can he?”

  Lily shook her head, more in denial of the idea than an actual firm rejection. Pressing her lips together, Evie looked away unhappily.

  “The traitor must either be someone close to the family or has someone close to the family feeding him information,” Mary said. She appeared even paler than normal. Captain Jones had been one of the men who had been with Elijah and Rex when she had been kidnapped, and Josie and Lily had come running to fetch Rex. Had he orchestrated the whole thing? “Otherwise, how would he have known to set up Josie with a letter from Joseph? Captain Jones would be perfectly situated.”

  “We do not even know if there is any connection to what is going on and the Talbot estates,” Josie argued. Blast it. She liked the man, and she trusted her intuition, which said he was not a traitor. “It could be coincidence.”

  “It could be,” Evie agreed, pressing her lips together. “But we cannot know for sure without investigating, and we all know my uncle and cousin will not think to look closely at him. They trust him, and they have a tendency to believe they are infallible.”

  “Does this mean you will be going to the Talbot estates when the Season ends?” Josie asked, holding back her disappointment. Lily and Mary looked disappointed as well since they would not be able to join Evie on her adventures, either.

  “Perhaps. We shall see.” Evie shook her head. “I will make no firm plans as of yet. There are still a few more weeks in the Season, and I would like to see Joseph and Miss Bli
ss be married.”

  “Will you have a meeting with her in the retiring room, too?” Josie quipped, making them all laugh. Joking and talking with her friends had made her feel so much better, even though they had moved off the topic of Elijah and the Society.

  Remembering there was a traitor and lives in danger put everything else into perspective. Somehow, she would figure out how to deal with Elijah.

  Chapter 21

  Elijah

  Walking through the streets in the Warrens toward the more respectable areas of London, Elijah was deep in thought. After visiting the Tramp’s Den, as well as several other gaming hells, he did not know any more than he had before. On the other hand, he was not exactly a known quantity in the Warrens. Adam was the one who had cultivated the reputation as a gambler, playing the part of the rakish, ne’er-do-well third son. As the heir, Elijah had purposefully gone in the opposite direction. The roles had served them well, but it chafed that Mitchell and Adam had been more successful in their investigations.

  This was also the first night he had not gone to Josie’s bed, and he could not stop wondering what she was thinking and whether he was taking the right tack. His mind should be focused on the mission and the traitor, but his thoughts kept shuttling back and forth.

  He did not have equal time to catch a traitor and win his wife’s heart, especially considering her heart had been taken when he married her. Something he had forgotten when he seduced her their first night and later when he punished her at Lady Greywood’s. After Joseph had announced his engagement, Elijah had continued to go to her bed, but he had quickly discovered having her body and her eager willingness for pleasure did not soothe him. If anything, it made him feel more savage.

  Yes, she was willing, but what did that mean? Was she doing her wifely duties? Was she addicted to the pleasure he gave her? Did she have any feelings for him beyond wanting the pleasure he could give her?

  Unfortunately, that last question was the one he felt the least secure about the answer.

  Josie could be a dutiful daughter when she wanted to be, but she was not quiet if she did not like her duties. Overall, she had settled into the household very nicely. The servants all liked her, Mrs. Brandon was happy with her, and she was shaping up to be everything a future Marchioness would need to be.

  She did love the pleasure—and the pain, though he had been gentler with her since the night at Lady Greywood’s, giving her time to adjust, a few swats to her pert bottom here and there, a pinch and twist of her nipples to make her gasp and whimper. He would happily work her up to more soon, but it was not something for every night.

  Beyond that? Josie was a hedonistic little thing. She loved horseback riding, dancing, long walks in the country—she was happiest when active and enjoying herself—but she could enjoy those activities with most people. There were very few people she disliked and had never indicated any partiality on her part—other than she thought Elijah was a stuffy prig, and she had never preferred to do any of those things with him.

  Somehow, that had translated to a passion in the bedroom—luckily for them, given the circumstances—but Elijah did not want to fool himself. Josie might very well be happy with any bloke who could bring her to climax. She liked people. All sorts of people, and even when they had been at their most combative, she had still liked him. She had threatened to find another man at Lady Greywood’s, which only seemed to confirm that worry.

  He was so lost in thought, he almost missed the footsteps coming up behind him. Glancing over his shoulder, he half-shouted and turned, twisting and falling to the ground to avoid the gleaming knife headed for his back. His attacker made no sound as they stumbled, caught off balance when the swing did not make its target.

  Rather than jumping to his feet, as his instinct wanted, Elijah kicked out and caught his attacker’s legs, sweeping them out from under him. The man went down, uttering a low curse. Another shadow separated from the darkness near them, also armed with a knife. Elijah bared his teeth, pressed the button just under the carved handle of his cane, pulled the blade out, and met the second attacker.

  The dim lights in the Warren did not make it easy on any of them. The second man cursed—not as quietly as the first had—when Elijah met knife with swordstick. The clatter of metal in the streets would have drawn attention anywhere else, but not here. Anyone within hearing would scatter and wait until a victor emerged and left. Only then would they come to see if there was a body to loot.

  Elijah did not intend for it to be his body, but it was two against one, and his first attacker was already getting to his feet. Distracted by the movement, he did not keep his guard up, and the second man’s knife sliced through his coat, biting into his left arm and making him hiss from the stinging pain.

  He parried the next stroke, forcing the other man back and giving him the space to turn. His back was against the wall of the building beside him, giving him cover, so they could not come at him from the back and the front together. It also gave him just enough breathing room to give his attackers a good look.

  They were both the usual Warren ruffian, the kind that could be hired for coin to do just about anything. Both of them sneered at him, one fair and one dark-haired, big men with broad shoulders and big guts. Even in the dim light, Elijah could see the dark-haired one had the cabbage ears common among boxers. Neither of them would be easy to take down, but he would keep a special eye on that one, who was likely as deadly with his fists as he was with his knife. Elijah’s one advantage was his swordstick had a longer reach than either of their knives.

  “Did someone send you?” he asked harshly, not expecting an answer but asking, anyway. Stranger things had happened. “Hire you?”

  The fair one shook his head in seeming disbelief.

  “Toffs.” The street slang for a noble became an insult in his mouth. Not speaking further, he opted to lunge forward.

  Obviously, the two had worked together before as their attack was coordinated, the fair one coming at Elijah first to engage him while the dark-haired one waited a moment longer to take advantage of his distraction. On someone else, it might have worked, but from the time he was a boy, Elijah had trained for being outnumbered, and his brothers were far better at coordinated attacks than these two thugs.

  Swinging his blade back around, he twisted slightly, accepting another shallow slice—this one along his ribs—to change his position. Now, the darker-haired one was slightly behind the fair one, hindering his movement, and Elijah took swift advantage of the momentary reprieve of having to guard against them both. The swordstick flashed through the air, gleaming in the moonlight and slicing through the fair one’s arm. Unlike when he hit Elijah, this was no mere flesh wound. Elijah felt the impact all the way up to his own shoulder as the sharp steel cut through to the bone.

  The man screamed, dropping his knife and jerking back, sending him straight into his companion, who cursed and shoved him aside. While they might be working together, evidently, money was the critical factor rather than fellow feeling. The dark-haired one did not even look when his companion dropped to his knees, holding his hand over his arm to try to staunch the flow of blood. His fingers were splayed out, no longer able to grip the knife he had been holding.

  Elijah could not rejoice for long because the dark-haired one slashed at him, far more adept than the first villain. They parried several blows, Elijah working hard to keep his back to the wall in case there was a third party waiting to rush in.

  Another cut to his arm, deeper than the first, and he grit his teeth against the pain. Seeing a small opening, he took it and knocked the knife from his opponent’s hands but came too close to his first adversary. The villain tripped Elijah, cut arm cradled uselessly in front of him, but going by his angry expression, he was not going to let that stop him.

  Now on his back, Elijah was at a severe disadvantage, and for the first time, fear gripped his heart. He was outmatched, and he knew it, even as he rolled away from the dark-haired one, who wa
s still standing. He tried to get some space between them so he could get back on his feet, to no avail. He kicked out, but the other man dodged nimbly, taking his time coming in, a triumphant gleam in his eye.

  “Time to die, Durham.” The man’s use of Elijah’s formal title confirmed this was no random mugging. They had been bought and paid for, sent for Elijah specifically.

  A group of men stumbling out of a nearby building, drunk, loud, and rambunctious, drew the villain’s attention just long enough for Elijah to jerk upward and thrust his swordstick through the man’s ribs. The sickening feeling of steel sliding through flesh and the man’s gurgling moan as he fell would stay with Elijah for a long after. It was not the first time he had killed, but it never got any easier.

  The other man scrambled away and disappeared down one of the alleys, still cradling his arm. Elijah did not bother to chase after him. His own heart was still pounding at his close call.

  The drunken revelers down the street did not even notice him kneeling there, next to a body, as they moved away. Elijah did not know whether to feel relieved or disgusted.

  Heaving himself onto his feet, he picked up the cane sheath and slid the sword back into it. He needed the cane to help him get home.

  Now completely alert, he noticed every tiny sound, every small movement, his head constantly whipping around to check his progress. Not until he reached Mayfair was he was able to marginally relax. The cuts on his arms and torso stung and throbbed worse with every step, but they also helped keep him focused. He would not be caught unaware again.

  Now, he would have to figure out how to deal with the distraction that was his wife.

  Chapter 22