Saved by Scandal's Heir

by Janice Preston

  Benedict?

  Harriet inched the curtains apart and applied one eye to the gap. Bridget Marstone was pouting at Benedict. The little cat. Harriet knew exactly what she was up to.

  ‘I am tired,’ Miss Marstone said with a pout as she glided towards Benedict. ‘I was looking for somewhere quiet to rest.’

  She stopped directly in front of him and laid one hand on his chest. On his shirtfront, inside the waistcoat that Harriet had recently unbuttoned. Possessiveness spiralled up from the depths of Harriet’s being, shocking her with its intensity.

  How dare she?

  Benedict stepped back, the door crashed open and all hell broke loose.

  Miss Marstone launched herself at Benedict—flinging her arms around his neck and pulling at him as she strove to plant her lips on his—a split second before Lady Marstone, Fanny and Edward crowded into the room.

  ‘I told you! Unhand her, you rogue! You villain!’ Lady Marstone clasped her hands to her bosom. ‘My baby! My innocent girl! You shall pay for this, sir!’

  Benedict untangled Miss Marstone’s arms from around his neck and put her from him.

  ‘You have ruined my darling girl.’

  As Lady Marstone crossed the room to clasp her daughter in a maternal hug, Harriet interpreted their exchanged look of conspiracy. Heedless of the consequences, she swept from her hiding place and stalked into the centre of the room.

  Everyone’s attention was fixed on Lady Marstone, who was still in full flow.

  ‘You enticed my poor, innocent Bridget in here to have your wicked— Oh! What is she doing here?’ Her voice rose to a shriek as she glared at Harriet. ‘Hussy!’

  Miss Marstone took one look at Harriet and burst into tears whilst Edward’s expression changed from irritation to utter fury.

  ‘That is what I should like to know,’ he snarled. ‘What the devil are you doing in here with him?’

  Harriet raised her brows. ‘And with Miss Marstone, Edward. Do not, I beg of you, forget Miss Marstone.’

  ‘As if we could,’ Benedict muttered.

  Harriet bit hard on her lip to silence her inappropriate urge to giggle.

  ‘You may rest assured, Lady Marstone, that there was no impropriety,’ she said, savouring the flash of fury in that lady’s eyes. She was more convinced than ever that the entire farce had been a scheme dreamed up by Lady Marstone and her daughter to entrap Benedict. ‘I was here the entire time and can vouch for that.’

  ‘I know what I saw when I walked in,’ Lady Marstone said. ‘That wretch had my poor, innocent Bridget in his arms. As for you, sir—I expect you to make amends. And I warn you, if you refuse to act as the gentleman you purport to be, I swear you will never hold your head up in society again.’

  ‘Do your worst,’ Benedict said. ‘What you saw was your poor, innocent daughter flinging herself at me. I tell you straight, madam, I have no interest in your daughter and I will not be making her an offer of any kind. If you wish to create a scandal, I would suggest your daughter will emerge the loser. Not I.’

  ‘You have not heard the last of this,’ Lady Marstone hissed, her glare encompassing both Harriet and Benedict. ‘Out of the goodness of my heart and my respect for his lordship I have kept my mouth shut about your disgraceful behaviour in staying unchaperoned at Tenterfield Court, but no more, my lady. And, from what I hear, that is not the only proof of your immorality. My heart weeps for poor Lady Stanton—only recently wed and yet cruelly deceived by her husband and her supposed friend. Utterly disgraceful!’

  She ushered her weeping daughter from the room.

  There was a beat of silence after they left, then Edward strutted across the room to face Harriet. ‘You have not explained what you were doing in here with Poole.’

  ‘I was doing nothing,’ Harriet said, her insides knotting as she realised the risk she had taken in protecting Benedict. She could not regret it, though. She couldn’t bear to think of him trapped into a marriage with that devious cat. ‘Edward, Fanny...please, you must believe me. I came here alone. I—’

  ‘You hoped Poole would follow you,’ Edward snarled. ‘I saw you with my own eyes, whispering together. You planned this liaison. In my house, on Kitty’s special night.’ He grabbed Harriet’s shoulders, shaking her, and she felt locks of hair again brush her neck and shoulders.

  ‘Hold hard there, Brierley!’ Benedict shoved Edward away from Harriet. ‘Don’t you—’

  ‘Do not tell me to “hold hard” in my own house,’ Edward said through clenched teeth before glaring again at Harriet. ‘I warned you but you went your own way, as usual. And now you must pay the penalty. You, madam, are no longer welcome here. Go.’

  Harriet’s heart pounded at the implacable look in Edward’s eyes.

  ‘Fanny...?’ Her appeal was met with a helpless shrug.

  ‘Brierley—’ Harriet could hear the effort Benedict made to keep his voice level even as anger flashed in his eyes ‘—you are making a mistake. It was I who followed Lady Brierley into the library. She had no idea I would follow her.’

  ‘That is almost as bad,’ Edward said. ‘I think we all know what the outcome of that particular meeting would have been, had Miss Marstone not appeared.’

  ‘I resent that,’ Harriet cried. ‘How dare you assume—’

  ‘It’s a natural assumption, given your past and—’ his eyes raked her ‘—given your slovenly appearance.’

  Benedict growled deep in his chest and started towards Edward, his fists clenched. Harriet grabbed at his arm, tugging him back.

  Edward stood his ground, saying, ‘And that just proves my point. You, sir, are no gentleman. You deserve each other. I shall attend you tomorrow, madam. I suggest you make arrangements to vacate the house in Sackville Street forthwith. I have no doubt one of your lovers will come to your aid and accommodate you, as you do them.’

  He marched to the door and flung it open. Harriet stole a glance at Benedict, who was rigid with fury, his hands clenched into fists.

  ‘Do not,’ she whispered. ‘Please. You will make things worse.’

  ‘So you keep telling me. Oh, very well, but only because you ask. Otherwise...’ He shot a look of disgust at Edward.

  Harriet swallowed, straightened her spine and walked to the door. As she moved into the hall, Edward caught up with her and gripped her elbow.

  ‘Fetch Lady Brierley’s cloak,’ he said to a passing maid. ‘She is leaving.’

  Am I such an undesirable character I must be escorted from the premises?

  Harriet contained her bitter laugh and blinked hard to hold scalding tears at bay.

  ‘Grandmama!’ Kitty, flushed and happy, emerged from the ballroom, Lord Wincott by her side. ‘Papa! There you all are. I wondered where you were... Where are you... Surely you are not leaving already, Grandmama? It is early yet.’

  Harriet bit the inside of her cheek, sucked in a deep breath and said shakily, ‘I am so sorry, sweetie. I am not feeling well, so I must go home. But I have had a wonderful time and you...and you...are so very beautiful...’

  Her voice failed her. She felt a hand squeeze hers briefly. Fanny. Her heart lifted a little. Perhaps all was not yet lost. Kitty threw her arms around Harriet and hugged her hard. ‘I hope you will feel better soon, and I shall tell you all about what you have missed.’

  ‘Thank you, darling. I’d like that. Never forget I love you,’ she ended in a whisper.

  Her cloak was placed around her shoulders. Harriet hesitated. She had travelled here with the Stantons in their carriage, as she did not have one of her own.

  ‘Allow me to escort you home.’ It was Benedict. ‘My carriage, please,’ he ordered.

  Her instinct was to fling his offer in his face.

  Why did he have to follow me? It has made everything a thousand times worse.<
br />
  She had made everything a thousand times worse as well, by distracting him. She could not sidestep her share of blame. She read the righteous expression on Edward’s face at Benedict’s words but she was beyond caring now what he thought. She must get home somehow. She had much to think about; she had her life to organise. Edward was throwing her out of her home, and he would stop her allowance. She had nothing. She glanced at Benedict’s set profile as they waited in silence. Did he imagine, now she had reached such a pass, she would fall into his arms? Allow him to support her as his mistress until he tired of her again?

  Yes, she shared the blame for what had happened tonight, but most of the rest was of Benedict’s doing, even her affaire with Stanton. His rejection of her and their baby had triggered a chain of events until she’d arrived at this point.

  Childless. Homeless. Penniless.

  Scorned by her family.

  Her hard-won reputation in tatters.

  The carriage arrived and Harriet allowed herself to be handed into it. Benedict climbed in behind her and sat by her side.

  ‘Why did you have to follow me?’ She could not hide her bitterness. ‘See now what has happened.’

  ‘If you had talked to me earlier, I would not have had to try to get you alone. I should not worry about it. It will soon blow over.’

  She stared at him, incredulous. ‘Blow over? If you truly believe that, you know nothing of the machinations of the ton. Do not think Lady Marstone will tell the exact truth, either about tonight or about my stay at Tenterfield Court. She will embellish as much as she can, blackening both our names in the process.’

  He did not speak again until they drew up in Sackville Street.

  ‘Why did you marry Brierley?’

  Fury sizzled through her. Why? His face was dimly visible, his expression noncommittal.

  ‘You know why.’

  The black-hearted wretch. How could he ask such a thing? Her hand itched to slap him, but at the same time she shrank from the idea of even touching him. She climbed hurriedly from the carriage, thankful that Stevens was already waiting to help her out.

  ‘Harriet!’

  She ignored him. ‘No one is to be admitted to the house tonight, Stevens. Is that clear?’ she said as she heard the unmistakable sound of Benedict descending from the carriage behind her. She half ran to her open front door—not yours for much longer—Stevens puffing behind.

  ‘I need answers, and I will not rest until I get them,’ Benedict shouted. ‘Why did—?’ His words were cut short as Stevens shut the door behind them.

  Now what?

  Harriet’s mind spun, but she could find no solution. Should she wait until Edward turned up tomorrow, in the hope he might have mellowed? Or should she retain what dignity she still possessed and leave of her own accord? She did not have the luxury of that option, she realised. Her only resort would be to move into the house in Cheapside, or to go to her mother and aunt in Whitstable. Neither option appealed, and both were only short-term answers to a dilemma that needed a long-term solution.

  Marriage. Her stomach knotted. There was no one she could trust enough to put her life in their hands.

  ‘Milady? Are you quite well?’

  Stevens’s question shook her from her thoughts. She was standing in her hall, her cloak still around her shoulders.

  ‘I’m sorry, Stevens,’ she said. ‘I am quite all right.’

  And the servants. What would happen to them? They would all lose their jobs... Sick despair rolled through her from her head to her toes. Accompanied by a wave of guilt. She’d thought she could handle Edward. She’d been wrong, and she had jeopardised her entire household’s future.

  ‘I shall retire now, and I suggest you do the same.’

  There had been no thunderous knocking at the door, such as she had feared. Benedict had clearly washed his hands of her, too. As she climbed into bed, misery engulfed her and she turned onto her side, curled into a ball and wept.

  Chapter Twenty

  Edward slammed out of Harriet’s salon as the clock struck noon the following day. She stared at the door in a daze. Far from softening his attitude to her, he had grown more implacable overnight. He had been unmoving. Kitty’s future was in the balance and Edward was determined the match with Lord Wincott should go ahead for political, financial and social reasons. Wincott had already expressed his disquiet about Harriet’s charity, believing such charitable work was tantamount to encouraging immoral behaviour in the serving classes. Now, unless Edward dealt once and for all with the connection between his family and Harriet—before the sordid story of her behaviour became common knowledge—he feared Wincott would never come up to scratch.

  ‘And does Kitty have a say in who she weds?’ Harriet had asked. That had been a mistake. Edward had exploded in righteous indignation that she should have the temerity to question a system of arranged marriages that had proved advantageous for the aristocracy for centuries.

  ‘My marriage was arranged,’ Edward said, his face darkening, ‘as was yours, madam. What would have become of you without my father rescuing you as he did?’

  Harriet had been beyond caution—her temper had been teased to breaking point, and all her pleading and cajoling had got her nowhere. ‘Rescuing me? You simply do not see what you do not wish to see, do you, Edward? Your father was a tyrant. You ask what I would be without him rescuing me. I would be a mother. I would have a daughter, and no amount of money in this world can ever make up for her loss.’

  ‘That is hardly my father’s fault.’

  Harriet had paced the room in her agitation. ‘Oh, yes, it is!’ She’d struggled to speak, her throat had been so tight. ‘He pushed me down the stairs. He laughed when I lost my baby. He gloated it would save him money and that my “swollen belly” would no longer interfere with his pleasures.’

  ‘There is no talking to you if you are set on inventing stories to blacken my father’s name,’ Edward had said, but some of his bluster had abated. He’d marched to the door. ‘One week to pack up and to leave. One week, madam.’ And he had gone.

  What was she to do? Where could she go? She would not allow Edward to banish her to the isolated cottage on the Brierley estate that he had offered. With no horse or carriage, she would effectively be cut off from the outside world, completely dependent on Edward and Fanny.

  The door opened and Stevens came in. ‘Will you see Lady Stanton, my lady? She arrived just after his lordship. She has been waiting in the drawing room.’

  Harriet scrubbed her hands over her face. ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I can’t... I can’t even think straight. I—’

  What was she saying? She should not speak like this in front of Stevens. Before she could refuse to see Felicity, however, Stevens said, ‘Her ladyship was most insistent, my lady. She—’

  ‘She will not be denied.’ Felicity’s voice sounded from the doorway. ‘Do not blame Stevens, for he did his best to put me off, but I simply must speak to you, Harriet.’ She crossed the room to sit next to Harriet and take her hand. ‘Thank you, Stevens, that will be all.’

  Harriet held her emotions in check until Stevens closed the door behind him, and then a huge wave of exhaustion, misery and hopelessness swept over her.

  Later, after she had wept out her despair in Felicity’s arms, she sat up.

  ‘I must look frightful,’ she said. ‘I am so sorry. I do not know what came over me, but I am better now. I was just tired and... Why did you come?’

  ‘After you left last night, there was talk. I was worried about you.’

  ‘Talk?’ Dear God, already? Her stomach twisted. There truly was no going back; her reputation was in tatters. It was only a matter of time before the tattle mongers remembered her humble beginnings and shook their heads in their superior conviction that blood was everything. />
  ‘Yes, about you and Sir Benedict,’ Felicity said. ‘That awful Marstone woman was spreading all kinds of malicious gossip. We tried to stop her, but not even your stepson could silence her. Oh, Harriet, I am so very sorry.’

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry for, Felicity.’

  ‘Oh, but I do. You went to Tenterfield Court for me. If you had not—’

  ‘If I had not, then all this would have blown up in some other way,’ Harriet said miserably.

  ‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

  Harriet unburdened her heart, telling Felicity all about her youthful love for Benedict, her fall from grace and Benedict’s rejection of her. And she told her something of her marriage to Brierley—glossing over the worst of his violence and his part in the loss of her baby daughter—triggering a fresh paroxysm of grief as Felicity squeezed her hands, her own eyes glinting with tears.

  ‘No wonder you made such an effort to help me find out who was responsible for Emma’s plight,’ Felicity said. ‘And as for Sir Benedict Poole—his treatment of you was appalling. Now I wish I had allowed Richard to call him out!’

  Her friend sounded so fierce, a laugh gurgled from Harriet’s swollen throat. ‘That would solve nothing.’

  ‘No, but it would make me feel better,’ Felicity declared, her small hands clenched into fists.

  ‘What am I to do?’ Harriet asked in despair. ‘Edward has all but disowned me. I am to l-l-leave this place. He has stopped my allowance—’

  ‘Can he do that?’ Felicity said.

  ‘Yes. I talked to the solicitor and he c-confirmed it. I have nothing. And now I do not even have my reputation.’

  ‘Well, as to the first, you are always welcome to stay with us,’ Felicity said.

  ‘I could not possibly.’

  Felicity fixed Harriet with a stern gaze. ‘If you are feeling awkward because of what happened between you and Richard, then please do not.’

  The knot in Harriet’s stomach tightened further. Although she was aware Felicity knew of their affaire, it had never been mentioned between them. ‘How...how can you speak of it so calmly? You should be spitting fire at me, and yet you have remained my friend, and you are here when I need you.’ She could not imagine she would be so magnanimous in the same circumstances.