Return of Scandal's Son

by Janice Preston

‘Yes. No!’ He turned abruptly from her, raking his hand through his hair once more before facing her again. His eyes met hers, and softened. ‘No, I cannot regret it. But I forgot myself. I was frantic with worry, but that is no excuse for my behaviour. You are a lady and I like to suppose myself a gentleman, despite my station in life, yet at the first opportunity I have behaved like the lowest of rogues.’

  Complications. The word rankled. He obviously regretted his impulsive embrace. For that is what it had been—an impulse. He had found her alone and taken advantage, stealing a kiss simply because he could. Now, he was shouldering the blame in order to make her feel better and to excuse her shameful conduct in returning his embrace. Furious with herself, Eleanor turned and would have left the room without a further word had Aunt Lucy not chosen that very moment to come in, her bright gaze darting from one to the other before lingering for some time on Eleanor’s hot cheeks, triggering another surge of shame.

  ‘Why, Mr Thomas,’ Aunt Lucy said at length, her voice icy, ‘how very nice to see you again so soon. I had understood you to be heading in a quite different direction from ourselves. Had I been informed of your presence, I should have made sure I came down to greet you immediately. I am, after all, Eleanor’s chaperon. I can see I shall have to keep a wary eye on you, sir—it is so very easy for a woman to lose her reputation, as I am sure you are aware.’

  Eleanor cringed inside. Not only did Mr Thomas now have a complete disgust of her wanton response to his advances, but Aunt Lucy’s suspicions had also been aroused. She could wonder at neither of them, for she had no less disgust for herself. Gathering her pride, she walked to the door and opened it, standing to one side.

  ‘Mr Thomas is just leaving, Aunt Lucy. He has said all he needs to say.’

  She raised her chin, boldly meeting his gaze. He might have crushed her feelings, but she would rather die than reveal her humiliation.

  ‘Oh, no, I’m not,’ Matthew retorted, holding her gaze for what seemed an eternity before switching his attention to Aunt Lucy. ‘I have brought grave news, Lady Rothley, news that has serious implications for the safety of your niece.’

  Eleanor clamped her teeth shut on the remark she longed to fling at his head. How had the mere touch of his lips managed to block the news of the attack from her mind?

  ‘What news do you bring? What implications?’ Aunt Lucy sank on to the sofa and beckoned Eleanor to sit by her side. ‘Please, Mr Thomas, be seated—’ she waved her hand at the chair opposite ‘—and explain yourself.’

  ‘Last night, a young woman was attacked in the White Lion in Stockport,’ he said. ‘She was attacked by an intruder wielding a knife as she slept in one of the bedchambers reserved for your party. I occupied the other.’

  Aunt Lucy gasped, turning stricken eyes to Eleanor, who took her hand, her fear giving way to annoyance at Matthew’s brutal telling of the story.

  ‘It does not mean,’ she said, ‘that the attack was intended for me. Surely...’ she faltered as Matthew focused his hard gaze on her once more ‘...surely, it must be a—’

  ‘Coincidence?’ Matthew interrupted roughly. ‘One coincidence I can believe, but two? So close together? It would now seem beyond doubt there is a pattern. There have been three attempts on your life in the past few weeks. It is time to take this threat seriously. Tell me, can you think of anyone who would wish you ill?’

  ‘Why, no, of course not. I’ve barely left Ashby Manor in the past seven years.’

  The very idea was absurd.

  ‘Forgive me, but...your husband? Could he wish you harm?’

  ‘Husb— But I’m not married, Mr Thomas. Why would you believe that I am?’

  ‘Not married? But, how...? You’re a baroness. You must be wed, or...perhaps you’re a widow?’

  Aunt Lucy put him straight. ‘My niece is a peeress in her own right. Unusual, to be sure, but not unheard of.’

  Eleanor watched as Matthew digested this information. He looked, at best, not pleased. The implication of his belief she was married dealt a further blow to her already fragile self-esteem.

  Was that why he kissed me, because I was a safe target? A married woman who might enjoy a flirtation in her husband’s absence? And how much more disgust must he feel now, knowing I’m single and yet returned his kiss?

  ‘Hmm, that puts a very different complexion on it.’

  ‘What possible difference does my being unmarried make?’ Shame made her sharp with him.

  ‘It makes every difference. There are many reasons to kill or harm another. Were you married, the reasons someone might wish to kill you might be hatred, or possibly jealousy or passion. But now, with greed as part of the equation, it begins to make more sense. May I ask—who is your heir?’

  ‘My cousin, James Weare.’

  ‘Then he must be our prime suspect.’

  ‘James? Never!’

  ‘Greed has driven more than one to kill, my lady. The lure of a peerage, and the power and privilege it bestows, is more than enough, quite apart from any wealth that accompanies it.’

  Eleanor was silent, weighing Matthew’s words against her knowledge of her cousin and his character. The fear that had plagued her at odd moments over the past few weeks returned to gnaw at her insides and she shuddered, thinking of that poor girl who had been hurt.

  That could have been me. But...no! Not James. He couldn’t...not the James I know. It’s just too horrible. This is nonsense. It must be nonsense.

  Eleanor looked at Aunt Lucy and Matthew, both wearing the same troubled expression, and bitter resentment bubbled up inside. How dare he come here and scare her like this, accusing her much-loved cousin of trying to kill her?

  She sprang from the sofa to pace the room. ‘No, I will not believe it. James and I grew up together at Ashby—we were like brother and sister. It makes no sense. If he had wanted to kill me he could have done so with ease many times. I am convinced the fire and the accident were unrelated.’ She rounded on Matthew. ‘I will thank you, sir, to keep such wild accusations to yourself.’

  Chapter Ten

  Eleanor’s agitated pacing prompted Matthew to abandon the topic of her cousin’s likely guilt rather than antagonise her further.

  The news she was unmarried was an unwelcome shock. He was not the kind of man to dally with innocents—although, eyeing her determined stance as the baroness challenged him, innocent hardly seemed an apt description. But also, to his surprise—and equally unwelcome—was a spurt of pleasure that she was unattached. All nonsense, of course. What on earth could he, a lowly merchant without even the backing of his family name, offer a wealthy baroness? His plans for the future were set. He would work hard to build up a successful business and then he would take the greatest satisfaction in repaying his father every last shilling of his debts. He would prove that the son so easily disowned had made a success of his life without his family’s backing.

  That kiss, though... He clamped down his desire to taste Eleanor’s sweet lips again. Concentrate on the matter in hand, man...surely it’s serious enough to warrant your full attention without being waylaid by such thoughts.

  ‘You are in danger, my lady,’ he said. ‘That is a fact and, regardless of who might wish you ill, you must take all possible measures to ensure your safety until the culprit is found.’

  ‘Mr Thomas is right.’ Lady Rothley went to Eleanor, taking her hands. ‘Oh! It doesn’t bear thinking about. That could have been you attacked in your bed. You could have been murdered.’ Her voice quavered. ‘Please, Ellie, do not be stubborn. Surely you must see these happenings cannot all be coincidence? What do you suggest we do, Mr Thomas? Should we return to Ashby? Will that be safer than London?’

  ‘It might be the wisest move.’

  Eleanor directed a scathing look at Matthew. ‘I’m sorry you are so troubled, Aunt, but I have no intention of returning to Ashby. Besides, Batley, if you remember, was concerned that the house cannot be made secure during the renovations, so we would be no safe
r there.’

  ‘Who is Batley?’

  Eleanor scorched Matthew with an impatient glance. ‘He is my bailiff. No, we will not return to the Manor. We shall continue our journey to London. And that,’ she added, jabbing her finger in Matthew’s direction, ‘is not up for negotiation.’

  Matthew bit back his instinctive retort. There was no point in quarrelling with Eleanor in the mood she was in. Never had he come across such an opinionated female.

  ‘I can see you are determined to have your way, Eleanor,’ Lady Rothley said, ‘so I shall not try to dissuade you. But I give you warning—unless you treat this seriously, we shall return to Ashby, whether you like it or not.’ At Eleanor’s mutinous look, she continued, ‘If I leave London, you will have no option other than to accompany me. You could not remain there unchaperoned. Think of the scandal.’

  Eleanor visibly subsided. Her aunt’s emphasis on the word ‘scandal’ must have some particular meaning for her. Matthew wondered if she had been embroiled in some sort of scandal in the past. Was that why she was still unmarried?

  Lady Rothley returned to the sofa. ‘What precautions would you advise us to take, Mr Thomas?’

  ‘The servants accompanying you must be put on the alert immediately, as must the whole of your household in town as soon as you arrive,’ Matthew said. ‘I will escort you for the remainder of your journey and your niece must take care never to go out unaccompanied. And by that—forgive me, Lady Rothley—I mean that she must take someone other than yourself for protection.’

  He watched the conflicting emotions chase each other across Eleanor’s expressive countenance. He knew she was still mortified by their kiss, but that could not be the only reason she was so determined to hide her fears over the murder. Was it her reluctance to accept her cousin’s involvement?

  ‘There is no need for you to inconvenience yourself, Mr Thomas. I am certain you are reading far more into this than you need to. I am grateful for your concern, but I have no desire to cause further delays for you. You should forget all about this little matter and continue with your—’

  ‘Little matter?’ Matthew exploded to his feet, itching to take hold of Eleanor and give her a good shake. Infuriating woman! ‘Have you not taken in a word I’ve said? You have more need of protection than I supposed, if that is your belief. I will not allow you to continue to put yourself in jeopardy—I must and I will escort you tomorrow. What if your cousin should try again?’

  Eleanor stared at him incredulously.

  ‘Ellie.’ There was a wealth of warning in Lady Rothley’s voice. ‘Please remember your—’

  ‘Will...not...allow? How dare you? You have absolutely no jurisdiction over me, sir. I have known you precisely one day. I have known James all my life. I will never believe him to be capable of something like this.’ She drew herself up to her full height, standing almost nose to nose with him. ‘I know him. You don’t.’

  She held his gaze, her large eyes defiant. If he continued to pursue the matter, might she stubbornly show her defiance by taking needless risks? Short of throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her off to safety—which, he thought with a silent oath, he would be more than happy to do at this moment—he was not sure how else to persuade her.

  But...there was one angle they had not yet considered. ‘Who else knew the details of your journey? Maybe that will help us to identify the culprit.’

  Eleanor stilled, staring at him, her eyes stricken, her rebelliousness dissipating as swiftly as it had arisen. ‘James.’ Her voice caught and the word came out as a croak. She cleared her throat. ‘James knew.’

  She slumped on to the sofa, next to her aunt, who clasped her hand.

  ‘He wrote and reserved the rooms for us in order that we would not be stranded for the night.’ She looked at her aunt, her tawny eyes huge in her suddenly ashen countenance. ‘I still cannot believe it. Not James. Oh, Aunt Lucy. How shall I ever face him?’

  ‘There, there,’ Aunt Lucy patted Eleanor’s hand, raising worried eyes to Matthew. ‘It seems we are indebted to you once again, Mr Thomas. Your offer to escort us tomorrow is gratefully accepted. Although,’ she added acerbically, ‘do not for a moment imagine that I have forgotten your earlier behaviour, for I have not.’

  Matthew merely bowed his head. He could not deny he was at fault there and could think of nothing to say that would not make an awkward situation even worse. When he raised his head, he found Aunt Lucy eyeing him with suspicion.

  ‘I am curious,’ she said. ‘How did you find us? And how did you come to be in here, alone, with Eleanor? I am certain Brooke would not have conducted you to our private parlour and left you here with Eleanor without so much as a maidservant in attendance.’

  Matthew cursed silently as the enormity of the lie he had told Brooke hit him. The innkeeper was certain to let slip his belief that his guest was a distinguished lord and married to Eleanor to boot.

  ‘I was late leaving Stockport because I had to speak to the magistrate before I could leave—’

  ‘Why should the magistrate wish to speak with you?’ Eleanor asked.

  ‘I told you—I was in the next bedchamber to the girl who was attacked. When she screamed, I went in. I saw him...but he gave me the slip.’

  ‘Then you know what he looks like. Describe him. I shall soon know if it was James.’

  ‘He wore a mask. All I know is that he was shorter than me and of a medium build. There are any number of men who would match that description. By the time I left I was sure you would be well on your way. We—that is, Henry and I—enquired at all the posting inns we passed until we found where you had stopped for the night. Mr Brooke was indeed reluctant to admit you were in residence. I’m afraid I had to resort to a little subterfuge.’

  Two pairs of eyes watched him expectantly. He drew a deep breath, bracing himself.

  ‘I told him I was Lord Ashby. Your husband.’

  There was a moment of stunned silence, then Eleanor let forth a peal of laughter that made Matthew stare in bewilderment. What on earth...? She should be furious...ringing a peal of anger, not laughter, over his head.

  ‘What is so funny?’ He sounded so stiff and pompous he almost cringed.

  Eleanor gasped for breath, hand flat to her chest, as giggles continued to spill from her lips. Was that a note of hysteria? Matthew glanced at Aunt Lucy, who looked as stunned as he felt.

  ‘Oh... I am so sorry...the look of dread on your face...if only you could have seen it...’

  ‘I shall, of course, ensure that you do not suffer by my hasty and ill-considered actions, Lady Ashby—’

  Eleanor sobered at his words. ‘Oh, no,’ she said. ‘Please do not. Really, Mr Thomas, I had begun to think you a man of sense, then you come up with the most ridiculous ruse to confound poor Brooke, and then find yourself forced to make amends by making an offer you clearly have no wish to make. Oh, this is just the spur I needed to jolt me out of that horrid fear that was near paralysing me. No doubt it will soon overwhelm me again but, for now, I am happy just to enjoy the joke.’

  ‘Joke?’ Indignation stirred. ‘You believe an offer from me would be a joke?’

  She rose to her feet. ‘Not in the way you are clearly taking it,’ she said, in a placatory tone. ‘I promise. I only meant it is a joke in as much as we barely know each other, our stations in life are so different and we have done little but squabble since we met.’

  A sudden flush stained her cheeks and she turned from him abruptly. Was she, like him, remembering that kiss? But, other than that omission from her list, she was right.

  ‘Well! My niece might think this a laughing matter, but I can assure you I do not, young man,’ Lady Rothley said, as she also stood. ‘What were you thinking? Brooke and, most likely, all his staff, believe you to be Lord Ashby and are aware that you have spent time alone in this parlour with my niece. You cannot sustain this masquerade—our servants will surely let slip that there is no Lord Ashby. And as soon as your trickery is k
nown, Eleanor’s reputation will be in tatters. What a tangle.’

  She was right. He had acted without thought, driven by his frantic belief that Eleanor was in danger. Now he had succeeded in embroiling her in a possible scandal. That thought brought to mind Eleanor’s reaction to Aunt Lucy’s earlier threat of scandal. An odd reaction, almost as though she feared for her reputation more than most. And yet she could laugh at this situation. She was certainly a puzzling woman.

  ‘You can say you were with me the whole time, Aunt Lucy,’ Eleanor said. ‘And Mr Thomas must find another inn to stay in tonight.’ She met his gaze. She was deadly serious now, no hint of amusement on her countenance. ‘It will not do for you to remain, for you cannot continue the deception of being my husband. Brooke will say nothing. After all, he cannot claim to be blameless. He failed to even announce you, which is inexcusable. After all, you could have been anybody.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Matthew growled. ‘And if you believe I’m going to leave you unprotected in this place tonight, you are way off course. In fact, I believe it is too dangerous for you to remain the night. Knowing he failed last night, I would not put it past the attacker to strike again. And as he’s clearly familiar with your itinerary, he will know you are here tonight.’

  His words brought a flash of fear to Eleanor’s expression. It was regrettable, he thought, as he pictured her laughing only a few moments ago, but it was surely better for her to be frightened than to dismiss the very real risks.

  ‘When Brooke allowed me to enter your private parlour, simply on my word that I was your husband, he confirmed my belief that you are completely vulnerable. We must all leave.’ He paused, pondering. He had caused this problem. He must find the solution.

  ‘Wait here a minute,’ he said. ‘I have an idea.’

  He went in search of Brooke. ‘Please attend us in the parlour as soon as convenient, Brooke,’ he said. ‘I should like to discuss the security of your establishment and the safety of your guests.’

  ‘Yes, my lord. Immediately, my lord.’ Brooke followed Matthew back to the parlour.