Surrender to Scandal

by Kelly Boyce

  “I can assure you it is,” the dowager said. “I will not have you returned home alone only to succumb to an unknown injury.”

  “Lady Dalridge is right,” Judith said, still holding fast to his hand. She should let go. It wasn’t proper, but she couldn’t. Not yet. “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “I will not be alone,” he said, squeezing her hand. “My mother is in residence and I guarantee once I tell her what occurred, she will hover over me like the staunchest of nursemaids.”

  He did not sound pleased by the notion of being coddled in such fashion. A shame, for she very much would have enjoyed doing just that. He always seemed to be carrying such a weight on his shoulders. How nice it would be to relieve him of it, if only for a short while.

  “If you are sure, but we shall take you the rest of the way in our carriage,” Lady Dalridge said.

  But he protested even that. “I am only a few minutes’ walk away.”

  Lady Dalridge reached the open door of the carriage and turned to them. Somehow, despite his superior height, she managed to look down her nose at him. “My dear Lord Glenmor, my offer was not a request.”

  “You might as well do it,” Judith whispered. “She shall badger you relentlessly until you comply.”

  He managed a small laugh and inclined his head toward Lady Dalridge, acquiescing to her command. “Very well then. I suppose the best thing for any injury is a few moments in the company of three beautiful ladies, is it not?”

  “Are you attempting to charm me, Lord Glenmor?” Despite the older lady’s austere tone, humor lingered just beyond it.

  He smiled and the corners of his eyes crinkled, and even if Lady Dalridge was not charmed, Judith could not help herself. “Perhaps a little.”

  The viscountess shook her head, but amusement danced in her light green eyes as she accepted his offer of assistance into the carriage. As Lady Dalridge settled herself, he turned to Judith.

  “Miss Sutherland?”

  “Lord Glenmor,” she whispered, leaning into him. She had only a few seconds to reveal what she had seen. The sinister image had imprinted in her mind. She needed to make him aware. “I believe the rider meant to intentionally cause you harm. In fact, I’m sure of it.”

  He answered with a knowing glance and squeezed her hand as he lifted her into the carriage, the only acknowledgement he had heard her claim. Had he already come to the same conclusion? And if so, what did it mean?

  * * *

  Miss Sutherland’s whispered words haunted him well into the night and continued to dog his heels come morning, dragging his attention away from more pressing matters. He pinched the bridge of his nose. He must concentrate. There must be some way to salvage the Glenmor fortune. But no. He had already robbed his other investments to fund the renovations of Maple Glen. Renovations that, now underway, could not be stopped.

  Frustration filled him. He shoved the ledgers away and rose from his desk chair, his body stiff and sore from his run-in with the horse and rider the night before. He crossed the room to stare out the window into the street below. A light snow had begun earlier in the day and now dressed the world beyond in white.

  I believe the rider meant to intentionally cause you harm.

  Miss Sutherland’s observations haunted him, her keen perceptions echoing what he too believed. The horse had not been a runaway. In retrospect, in the split second before he leaped out of the way, he recalled the rider, hunched over the animal’s neck, had a firm grip on the reins. He should have been able to redirect the horse enough to avoid a collision. And yet, he had not. Nor had the rider stopped once the collision occurred, or looked back to survey the damage he had caused. He’d simply kept going, disappearing into the dark like a specter.

  Benedict dragged his fingers through his hair. It made no sense. What value was there in causing him harm? He had no greedy heir hoping to take his place and no fortune to inherit even if there was an heir to receive it. He was it. The last of the Laytham line. With the last hope of changing the family fortunes lost, if he could not sever his interest in the Western Trading Company and stop the bleeding of his investment. The only one who would suffer from his success in that matter was—

  His thoughts arrested, stopped suddenly in their tracks.

  His business partner.

  He let out a small laugh. “Foolishness.”

  Based on the agreement Uncle Henry had signed, should the current earl die without heirs, his portion of the business would fully revert to his silent partner. Which, if the Western Trading Company had proven a profitable venture, would lean toward motive. But it wasn’t profitable, not in the least and therefore, despite how things may appear, the incident had to be nothing more than the random act of a madman. He must remove the event from his mind and spend his energies where they were more suited—to finding a wealthy bride.

  It did not bode well that the plan gave him no more peace than being run down in the street by a lunatic on a horse.

  Behind him, the door opened and he saw his mother’s image reflected in the window. He turned and crossed the room to greet her, her sunny presence a much-needed balm to his jumbled thoughts. He had told her of his mishap the night before, not wishing to have her hear about it from someone else, exaggerated to such a degree it caused her more distress than the truth.

  “Good morning, Mother.”

  She met him halfway and took his offered hands, giving them a loving squeeze. “I should have known I’d find you here. You should be resting, Ben.”

  “I am perfectly fine, Mother. A little sore and with a few bruises. Nothing to worry yourself over.” He loathed causing her any concern. She had already lost one son tragically. He did not want her to revisit those memories by worrying over his welfare.

  “Nearly being trampled by a horse is hardly nothing. I fear even letting you out of my sight now.” She waved off his protest. “It is a foolish notion, I know, but once you have children of your own, you will understand.”

  “I will need to find myself a bride first, Mother. And I am afraid that search is not going as well as I had hoped.”

  Mrs. Feeney arrived with tea and biscuits and Benedict led his mother over to the chairs near the hearth where a warm fire beat back the chill.

  “Have you no interest at all in any of the young ladies?” she asked.

  Yes, teetered on the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. As much as his heart had turned in one woman’s direction, his life must go in another. It had not been fair to say the things he had the night before, speaking to her of lips and kisses and such. It had been improper and out of character for him, but whenever he was in Judith’s company, he forgot himself. Forgot what was proper and what was not and let down his guard to reveal his true self to her.

  “Benedict?”

  He gave himself a mental shake. “Yes. I mean—no.” He could not tell Mother. For heavens’ sakes, if he let her know he’d lost his heart to Miss Sutherland, she would begin a campaign to have them standing at the altar before Christmas, so firmly entrenched she was in her belief that love must come above all. A lofty ideal, and a lovely one, but not one he could indulge in given his current circumstances.

  “What of Lady Henrietta? She seemed quite lovely, if a bit shy. And I wouldn’t think her scars would be of a concern to you.”

  “She is and they weren’t, however she appears quite over the moon for Lord Pengrin, to hear Miss Sutherland tell it.”

  “How unfortunate.” His mother’s voice changed and one eyebrow arched. “Please do not tell me you are still entertaining the idea of Lady Susan.”

  Benedict winced and leaned back in his chair, stretching his legs toward the fire. “I may have no other alternative. I know she is unpleasant, but perhaps once I get to know her, I will discover more pleasing qualities beneath the exterior.”

  His mother gave him a look. The one that clearly indicated he was mad, or severely misguided.

  Benedict sighed. “Very well, likely that is not the c
ase. But regardless, her dowry and lack of other suitors make her a viable prospect.”

  “The very thought of you tying yourself to her for life leaves such a bad taste in my mouth I cannot even describe it. Please reconsider, Benedict. Is there no hope at all that your investments will turn around?”

  He had told her very little in that regard, revealing only enough that she understood the gravity of the situation and what he must do to reverse it.

  “I have made every attempt to track down Mr. Crowley or this silent partner Uncle Henry tied us to, but so far all my inquiries have come to naught. I hold out very little hope in that regard. I fear I may have to involve the magistrate in order to sever the agreement, but that will take time I do not have. Marrying well is the quickest, most practical solution. I will need to do it either way, so I might as well make the choice worth my while. And I will begin in earnest this evening at the Lindwell fete.”

  “Then I shall accompany you. Perhaps I can uncover a better option than Lady Susan and her displeasing personality.”

  Benedict did not bother to dissuade her, though he could not shake the impression that marriage to Lady Susan was a penance he would have to pay for failing his family yet again. Time was running out.

  * * *

  Another party, this one the grandest yet. The hosts, the Lindwells, were not of the aristocracy, but rather had come over from the Americas with their newly made fortunes and, as many of the ton whispered, badly acquired sense of what was appropriate. Only a loose familial connection to the Duke of Franklyn made them in any way acceptable, though even this did not prevent those with old fortunes and lofty titles from looking down their aristocratic noses at them.

  Despite this condescension, however, these same titled lords and ladies arrived tonight to celebrate the two youngest Lindwell daughters as they turned twenty.

  “It is a rather gauche display,” Lady Dalridge said, looking around as their group entered the glittering ballroom that reminded Judith of a winter wonderland. “One would think Lady Franklyn would have counseled them on restraint.”

  “Perhaps Lady Franklyn thought to eliminate the competition by allowing the Lindwells to offend every titled gentlemen looking for a bride in the hopes it would leave at least one willing to take on her daughter,” Lord Ridgemont suggested, an amused smile playing about his lips.

  His great-aunt cast him a dubious look. “And if so, was she successful? Would you choose Lady Susan over one of the Lindwell girls?”

  Judith suppressed a smile as Lord Ridgemont caught her eye and shuddered. “Heavens, no. But I am not currently in search of a bride.”

  Lady Dalridge harrumphed. “By the time you decide to find one, Lady Susan may be all that’s left.”

  “Auntie,” Lady Henrietta said, placing a hand upon the dowager viscountess’s arm. “Don’t chide him so. One would hope James will fall in love when he least expects it and all will end well.”

  “Love.” Lady Dalridge shook her head. “Young people.”

  “Come then,” Lord Ridgemont said, offering an arm to both his great-aunt and sister, leaving Judith to trail behind them. “Shall we assimilate ourselves into the masses?”

  It was an apt description in Judith’s estimation and in short order, the sea of bodies opened up for Lord Ridgemont and his family, then quickly closed over, separating her from them as if she were invisible. If not for Lord Ridgemont’s dark head standing taller than most, she would have lost sight of them completely. Either way, she drifted farther and farther behind as they crossed the room, only coming close to catching up when they would stop to exchange pleasantries with friends, before moving on once again.

  “Miss Sutherland!”

  A hand caught her arm and Judith turned at the familiar voice. “Oh, Mrs. Laytham. How wonderful to see you.” The words rushed out of her in relief. She despised these parties; bodies crushed into each other, leaving little space for thought or movement. The constant hum of voices reminded her of an angry hive of bees. To find a friendly face was a relief indeed.

  Mrs. Laytham pulled Judith in close to her so she might be heard. “It is quite the thing, is it not?”

  “Indeed it is. I’ve not seen so many candles lighting a room. I wonder that it won’t set the room ablaze before the night is over. But it is rather pretty, I must admit.” Not a popular sentiment to hear others speak, but Judith suspected the Lindwells could have arranged the room with all proper decorum and still have been the subject of ridicule for their efforts. The ton was not very welcoming to those beneath their ranks.

  Mrs. Laytham opened her fan and waved it beneath her chin. “I understand the Lindwells are hoping to marry their youngest daughters off to titled gentlemen. It is said the dowry for each is nothing less than a small fortune.”

  “Oh?” It had been much the same information Lord Ridgemont had provided, but hearing it from Mrs. Laytham made the pronouncement sit a bit differently.

  “Did Lord Glenmor accompany you this evening?”

  Mrs. Laytham inclined her head toward the middle of the room. “Oh yes, he is making his way toward the Lindwells as we speak, in the hopes of receiving a proper introduction to their daughters.”

  Judith’s heart sank. “I see. And you did not join him?”

  Mrs. Laytham gave her a rueful smile. “I despise crowds, truth be told. Always have. I suspect if one of the daughters is to his liking I will meet her soon enough. I have already made up my mind to visit the Lindwells. I feel a certain kinship, knowing well what it is like to be on the outside looking in.”

  “Yes. I’m rather familiar with that sensation myself.”

  Mrs. Laytham patted her hand. “I suspect you are, my dear.”

  “Ah, Miss Sutherland, there you are!” Lord Ridgemont appeared through the swath of bodies and executed a brief bow. “My sister feared you were swallowed up by the masses, never to be seen again. But I see you have found safe harbor with Mrs. Laytham.”

  “I have. She most kindly rescued me and offered refuge.”

  “May I escort both you ladies to our party? Lady Dalridge is sitting down just on the other side of the room. I would be most pleased to have you join us, Mrs. Laytham, as I’m sure my aunt would as well.”

  Judith wasn’t sure about that. Lady Dalridge was a bit of a stickler when it came to associating with anyone who lacked rank. She tolerated Judith, but only because Hen insisted she do so.

  Mrs. Laytham smiled. “That is very kind of you, Lord Ridgemont. Please give Lady Dalridge my best regards, but I believe I will wait here for my son to return.”

  “Ah yes, I saw him speaking with one of the Miss Lindwells. Well then,” He turned and offered Judith his arm. “Shall we make our way through, Miss Sutherland?”

  “Of course,” she said, slipping her arm through his, unsure which disappointed her more, that she did not get to see Lord Glenmor face to face, or that he was busy, actively courting an audience with one of the Lindwell girls in the hopes of procuring a potential marriage. “Thank you for rescuing me, Mrs. Laytham. I hope to see you again soon.”

  “I am certain we will,” she answered. “It won’t be long now before the wedding, will it?”

  Judith smiled. “Not long at all.”

  As she and Lord Ridgemont skimmed the outer edges of the crowd, the marquess leaned down to better be heard. “I must confess, I was shocked when I heard the Dowager Countess of Blackbourne had agreed to marry your uncle.”

  Something in his tone piqued her. “And why is that, my lord?”

  “Forgive me. I meant no disrespect to your uncle. I suppose I was simply surprised.”

  “You shouldn’t be.” She grew weary of the assumption those of Lord Ridgemont’s ilk held, that anyone without title should only consort with those who shared the same standing. “My uncle is an exceptionally fine man and Lady Blackbourne a lovely woman. That two such people of enduring qualities have found love with each other should hardly be a shocking occurrence.”

  He
winced. “I have offended you.”

  She pursed her lips. She should not have spoken so freely. He was her employer, after all, and she could not risk displeasing him and losing her position. Nor should she be surprised he held such a belief. As a member of the peerage he was no different from the rest of them in their views of who was worthy of their time and attention and who was not. Likely, it had been branded into him from the cradle and heartily enforced by Lady Dalridge since he reached the age of majority.

  “Forgive me,” she said. “I spoke out of turn.”

  “On the contrary, I have behaved the boor. It is I who should apologize. I hope Lady Blackbourne and your uncle find every happiness. We should all be so lucky, should we not?”

  Judith nodded then stopped as her gaze fell upon a familiar golden head, burnished bronze by the candlelight raining down upon him. Lord Glenmor was engrossed in an animated conversation with a pretty young lady of similar coloring, who appeared equally engaged.

  “That is one of the Miss Lindwells,” Lord Ridgemont told her, leaning down again to be heard over the crowd. “Temperance, I believe her name is. Or Constance. I cannot remember which of them is which. She seems quite captivated by your Lord Glenmor.”

  “He is not—” She stopped suddenly and modulated her tone that had come out harsher than she intended, her emotions in an uproar over seeing the two together. A state not improved upon by the realization that they made a lovely couple. Where he was handsome, she was pretty. Where she was dainty, he was strong. “He is not my Lord Glenmor,” she stressed. Nor would he ever be. When would she get that through her thick head?

  “Forgive me, Miss Sutherland. I fear I cannot win with you tonight. Everything I say has brought you distress.”

  She pursed her lips. At this rate, he would be showing her the door by the end of the night, her trunk at her side and a one-way ticket back to Havelock Manor in her hand. “No, it is not you. I suppose I am feeling a bit tired from all the parties. I had not expected it when I took the position. I believe I envisioned a much quieter existence.”

  “As I feared it would be,” Lord Ridgemont said. “But with your counsel and support I am pleased to see my sister has come out of her shell and taken her proper place in society. I worried such a day would never come to pass. To see that it has gives me a great deal of relief. I have you and my friend, Lord Pengrin, to thank for that.”