Surrender to Scandal

by Kelly Boyce

  “No, but there will be dancing at some point in the near future, of that I am certain. And I would like to dance with you when there is. A waltz preferably. I must confess, I enjoyed myself very much the last time we danced.”

  His words surprised her. “I did not think you even remembered it.”

  “On the contrary. I remember every detail quite clearly. So much so, that I feel the need to repeat the experience to see if the second time might live up to the magic of the first.”

  His claim wrapped around her, warm as a secret whispered in one’s ear. He had enjoyed their dance. He wanted to do it again. She had yearned for the very same thing since the moment the music had ended.

  “You flatter me.”

  “I tell the truth. What say you? Will you save me a dance? I promise to be on my best behavior.”

  Was it wrong to hope he would break such a promise? A thrill shot through her. “I believe I would like that very much.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  After much tossing and turning, Judith had made her decision. She must act. She must do something to stop the impending disaster should Lady Henrietta continue down this path with Lord Pengrin.

  I will marry that scarred little monster with her oh so generous dowry.

  His claim, his contempt for Lady Henrietta, stabbed at Judith’s heart. She could not let it be. She could not stand by and watch him destroy Hen’s tender heart. Unfortunately, Hen was too wrapped up in her infatuation to listen to Judith. Which left her but one other option.

  She took a deep breath and pushed open the heavy door of Lady Dalridge’s private salon, thankful to find the great lady inside. The dowager viscountess turned her regal head at the uninvited interruption.

  “Miss Sutherland. May I help you?” Her cool greeting reinforced the distance between them. Despite Hen’s insistence that they were friends and that Judith be treated as more of a guest than the employee she was, Lady Dalridge had not embraced the idea.

  Judith stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Lady Dalridge raised one eyebrow at this but said nothing.

  “I wonder if I might have a word, my lady.”

  There was a brief hesitation, as if the dowager weighed the merits of such a conversation. Perhaps curiosity got the better of her as she motioned a hand laden with jewels toward the chair next to the settee where she rested, a heavy tome in her lap.

  Judith hurried to the chair before the lady could change her mind or before the nervous knots in her stomach made her rethink her course of action. But she could not back down. She could not sacrifice Hen for the sake of her pride and allow Lord Pengrin to win. The cost was too high.

  She sat, took a deep breath, and dove in before her courage failed her. “I feel it is my duty to inform you of a potential situation that may—” She stopped. No, not may. Will. “A situation that will cause Lady Henrietta a great deal of pain.”

  Lady Dalridge did not move and Judith wondered if she had heard her. She’d been about to continue, to repeat what she had said, when the older lady spoke. “And what is this potential situation that has caused you such concern you felt it necessary to interrupt my afternoon with it?”

  The censure did not go unnoticed. Nor did the concern that edged Lady Dalridge’s light green eyes. As much as she kept Judith in her place, she cared greatly for her great-niece and protected her the way a lioness did her cubs. Judith was right to have sought her out.

  “It concerns Lord Pengrin and his intentions toward Lady Henrietta. I fear they are not honorable or honest.”

  Another long hesitation. “I see. And what do you believe his intentions toward my great-niece are?”

  “To marry her.”

  Lady Dalridge offered up a patronizing smile. “And you do not feel marriage to be an honest or honorable state?”

  “No, it isn’t that.” Oh, bother. She was making a mash of this already. “I believe marriage to be both honorable and honest. It is the intentions behind Lord Pengrin courting Lady Henrietta that worries me.”

  “I assume you refer to her dowry?”

  Judith sat up straight. Did Lady Dalridge know? And if so, did she not care? “Well…yes. In a sense.”

  Lady Dalridge scoffed. “Heavens, Miss Sutherland. I realize you are but an inexperienced country miss, but even you must know our kind marry more for social and monetary gain than we do for love.”

  An inexperienced country miss. If only she knew. “Yes, of course. But—”

  “Why, if we didn’t, likely none of us would have married at all. It is hardly a desirable state for a woman, is it? To be deemed someone else’s property? The best most of us can hope for is an early widowhood.”

  Lady Dalridge painted a rather dismal, yet depressingly accurate depiction of the matrimonial state. Though Judith had once expected to someday marry, she had hoped to choose someone who would be a partner, not a lord and master.

  “Was there anything else, Miss Sutherland?”

  This had gone completely wrong. She had thought to find a sympathetic ear, to collect an ally in convincing Hen that Lord Pengrin was not the one for her. “I am not making my concerns clear. Forgive me, my lady. But Lord Pengrin is—” She stopped. He is what? A pompous ass? A heartless cad? Hardly enough to convince the dowager of his unsuitability given the circumstances. A man who threatens to toss ladies into the Thames? No. That sounded too melodramatic to be believed, despite the truth of the statement.

  “What is it, Miss Sutherland?” Lady Dalridge’s impatience crackled in the air between them. “If you have something of import to say, I do wish you would hurry up about it so I might return to my book.” She tapped her fingers against the leather bound volume sitting in her lap.

  “It is just that Lord Pengrin is not the gentleman he presents himself to be.” There. She let out a breath. Success.

  Lady Dalridge chuckled deep in her throat, amused rather than concerned. “They rarely are, my dear.”

  Judith’s spirits sank. Must she tell all to her in order to have her concerns validated? The idea of admitting what had happened, what she had allowed to happen, filled her with shame. “Yes, I realize, my lady, but Lord Pengrin is worst than most. He’s…he’s a reprobate of the vilest kind. A…philanderer and a profligate gambler.”

  The laughter Lady Dalridge had offered only a moment before, condescending as it was, disappeared in the blink of an eye, replaced with aggravation. “Good heavens! Do you fear he will cheat on Lady Henrietta? Take a mistress? Or that he might find himself from time to time at the gaming tables? Such is the way of men, Miss Sutherland. I understand you are too much of an innocent to know these things but I assure you—”

  “I am not an innocent!”

  Frustrated, the words blurted out before she could stop them, then echoed in the air around them until finally falling away to leave a cold silence in their wake. Heat burned through her.

  Lady Dalridge’s next words bit out like a bitter wind. “I beg your pardon?”

  “I mean…that is…” Her vision blurred. She grasped her hands tightly together to try and stop their trembling. It was out. Her shameful secret. The private disgrace she had carried for the past three years. Where did she go from here? Where could she go? Nowhere. It was done. She was done. She could see it in Lady Dalridge’s eyes. “Lord Pengrin compromised me.”

  Lady Dalridge straightened in her chair then rose to her feet, slowly with such poise and regality she might have been Queen of England. When she peered down her straight nose, Judith could not help but feel as if she were nothing more than a lowly subject who had displeased their matriarch. She lowered her head and tried to blink away the tears filling her eyes.

  “I see. And now you are jealous that his attentions are directed at my great-niece so you think to destroy that.”

  Judith’s gaze shot up. “What? No! No, that is not it at all!”

  “How very unbecoming of you, Miss Sutherland. Lady Henrietta has formed a strong attachment to you. How dist
ressed she would be to know you have behaved in such a despicable manner, using your own low character to rob her of someone who has brought her out of her shell.”

  Brought her out of her shell? For what? To send her back into it forever when she learned how Lord Pengrin truly felt? Why did Lady Dalridge not see this? Did her confession mean nothing?

  “He thinks her a monster—he told me so!”

  Hate, cold and pure, burned in Lady Dalridge’s eyes and it took a moment for Judith to realize it was not over what Lord Pengrin had said, but was instead directed at her.

  “Enough.” The word sliced through the thick air between them and cut Judith’s words off before she could offer a more proper explanation. “Your behavior is inexcusable. You have already admitted to your lowly comportment and lack of innocence, I am certain you are not the person you presented yourself to be when my nephew offered you employment.”

  “My lady—”

  Lady Dalridge did not allow her to continue. “You will remove yourself from our home immediately. I will make your excuses so as not to ruin your character more than you have done yourself, though I cannot say you deserve it. Return to your room; pack your belongings and leave. I will have Cleveland ready the carriage to convey you to wherever it is you need to go. You will not speak to Lady Henrietta before your departure and you will not contact her afterward. Am I clear on this, Miss Sutherland?”

  Judith tried again. “But you must—”

  “I must do nothing more than what I am doing, which is to protect my great-niece from your petty jealousy. If you challenge me in this regard, rest assured the news of your lost innocence will quickly make its way outside of this room.”

  Fear stabbed at Judith’s heart. It had been her greatest fear, and that fear now lumped in her throat and created a barrier that prevented any other words from breaking through. Not that Lady Dalridge would have listened. She’d made up her mind and Judith had little doubt that if she tried to thwart her, she would make good on her threat.

  The dowager viscountess swept from the room without a glance back, obviously confident that her commands would be heeded. As they would be. What other choice did Judith have? She had been tossed out.

  The question was—where would she go now?

  * * *

  When Titus entered the library to deliver a message, Benedict could honestly say the words that came out of his mouth were the last ones he had ever expected to hear from the man. So much so, that he inquired further, for surely he had heard incorrectly.

  “Forgive me, Titus. But did you say Miss Sutherland was at the front door?”

  “Yes, my lord.” Titus inclined his head, though his eyes were opened wide enough to easily reveal what he considered a gross impropriety. A lady simply did not present herself on a gentleman’s doorstep. “And she has brought her belongings with her.”

  “Her belongings?”

  “So I would assume that is what is in the trunk Lord Ridgemont’s driver left at her feet before he rode off, my lord.”

  Benedict took a step toward his butler, certain he must be dreaming. Titus’s tale had a surreal quality about it and made as much sense as a jumbled dream, where anything was possible. Why, he’d had many such reveries where Miss Sutherland featured prominently, none of which were possible in real life, but which seemed perfectly acceptable in the world of his imaginings.

  “I see.” Except that he didn’t. This was no dream. This was the bright light of day and as such, nothing Titus had relayed made one lick of sense. Benedict did not much care for things that did not make sense. He preferred his life to be orderly and sensible. It was much easier to manage that way. “And where is Miss Sutherland now?”

  “I have shown her to the receiving room, my lord. It would not do to leave a lady standing at your front door with her belongings, given the circumstances.”

  “Yes. Indeed. The circumstances.” He gave Titus a strange look. “What circumstances would that be again?” Beyond the obvious, of course.

  Titus lifted one eyebrow. “Mrs. Laytham’s departure to Sheridan Park, my lord.”

  Bloody hell. How could he have forgotten that? “Did you happen to mention Mrs. Laytham’s departure to Miss Sutherland?”

  “No, my lord. I thought I might leave that to your discretion.”

  “Wonderful. Of course. Proper thing.” He did not look forward to that particular conversation. “I suppose I should greet her and determine what it is that has brought her here.” But still he made no move to leave the safety of the library. His legs remained leaden posts driven into the floor. The moment he left this room, the second he informed Miss Sutherland that they were alone in Glenmor House without proper chaperone, it was all over. He would have no alternative but to marry her to save her from ruination.

  A lovely prospect, if not for the fact saving her from ruination would mean to mete out his own, creating one last and final failure without any hope of putting things back to right. Worse still, it would mean dragging Judith down with him in the process.

  His mind worked furiously to find a way around the inevitable. “Did anyone see her arrive?”

  “I cannot say, my lord. The street was quiet, however. Though whether Lord Ridgemont’s driver is the chatty sort, I cannot claim any knowledge of.”

  “No. Right. Naturally.”

  Why in heavens was she here? With her belongings? Had she been sacked? Questions he had no answers to tripped over one another until he gave his head a shake to send them on their way. Only Judith could provide answers.

  “Shall I inform Miss Sutherland you will be along directly, my lord?”

  “No, that will be unnecessary, Titus. But…perhaps you could have Mrs. Feeney stay with her until I arrive.” It wasn’t ideal, but having his housekeeper in the room with them would lend a modicum of propriety to the situation that may prove the only saving grace they had, thin as it was.

  “I have already requested such, my lord.”

  Of course he had. Titus was the bastion of all things proper. Likely, he was dying quietly inside at the unseemliness of the current situation. “Very well, then.”

  He could put it off no longer. He must go to her.

  Benedict made his way to the other end of the hallway, glancing down the long staircase that led to the foyer. For a fleeting moment, the idea of running down the stairs and out the front door crossed his mind. But then what? Unlike many of his counterparts, he did not possess bachelor apartments. He had deemed separate lodgings an unnecessary expense. Perhaps he could hunt down Charlie. He was Miss Sutherland’s cousin, after all. Which begged the question—why had she not gone there, instead of here, if she was seeking sanctuary?

  But he could not run. Had he not told her if she needed him, he would be there for her? What stronger cry for help was there than to arrive at his door, belongings in hand, without warning or invitation?

  What had happened?

  “You could perhaps open the door and ask her,” he muttered.

  His hand rested on the door handle, the brass cold beneath his touch. Whatever her answer, the action itself had tossed them into a beastly morass they may not get out of. Odd that his biggest worry in that regard was what this would do to her. On one hand, if he did not marry her, she would be ruined. And if he did, she would share in his ruination.

  Either way, her fate was sealed unless he could come up with some solution that saved them both.

  He pushed open the door and his gaze found her pacing in front of the fireplace. His housekeeper sat poker straight in a chair near the window, standing when Benedict entered and gifting him with the same disapproving look as had Titus. Honestly, you would think both of them would be better accustomed with scandal given his family’s close acquaintance with it.

  Miss Sutherland turned at the sound of his arrival, myriad emotions rushing across her lovely face. She stepped forward, then hesitated, casting a nervous look at Mrs. Feeney.

  “Forgive my intrusion, Lord Glenmor.” She
appeared drawn, distraught. His gaze dropped to her hands where they were clasped against her belly, her fingers squeezing and twisting about each other. The situation must be dire indeed.

  “It is no intrusion, Miss Sutherland. Is something wrong?”

  “Y—yes. I suppose you could say so.” She cast another look toward their chaperone and said nothing more.

  He understood the silent request for privacy. To grant it, however, put him in a rather delicate position. “Mrs. Feeney, perhaps you might sit just outside the door?”

  His housekeeper’s look of disapproval deepened. “With the door open, my lord?”

  It was kind how she framed it as a question, when it was anything but. “Yes, Mrs. Feeney. Of course.”

  He waited for her to remove herself from the room before turning back to Judith. Before he could ask her to continue, however, she spoke. “Is Mrs. Laytham not at home this evening?”

  He swallowed and cleared his throat, clasping his hands behind his back though he would have much preferred to reach for her, pull her to him, and kiss the pinch of worry from those ruby lips. He closed his eyes for a brief moment and prayed for strength.

  “No, I am afraid Mother has left for Sheridan Park just this morning.”

  Judith grew paler, if such a thing was possible. “Oh.” She looked about her, though for what, he wasn’t certain. Salvation? It was too late for that. “Oh. That is…” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “Oh dear, I did not know. This is very improper.”

  He did not bother contradicting her. There was no way around it. He had an innocent young woman who was not family under his roof without proper chaperone. But there was nothing to be done about that now. He could hardly send her back out into the encroaching night unprotected. “What has brought you here?”

  “An ill wind, I suppose.” He started to inquire her meaning but she held up a hand and continued. “I have been relieved of my duties as lady’s companion to Lady Henrietta. Lady Dalridge insisted I pack my belongings and leave immediately. She provided me with a week’s wages as recompense and the Ridgemont carriage to convey me to my desired location. I sought out Aunt Beatris, but when I arrived, I discovered she and my cousins had already left London for Havelock Manor. The housekeeper indicated Patience had experienced another run-in with Lady Susan and my aunt decided it best to put a distance between the two. She had sent me a message to that effect, but I did not receive it before my departure from Harrow House.”