Surrender to Scandal

  “Ah,” Benedict nodded. The explanation did little to ease his anxiety over what to do now.

  “I did not think it proper to stay alone without chaperone, so I came here, thinking perhaps Mrs. Laytham could provide such.”

  “Except that she, too, has left to assist with the wedding preparations at Sheridan Hall.”

  “Yes. So you have said. If anyone took note of my arrival…” Her gaze dropped to her clasped hands. The reality of their situation lingered between them in the silence.

  If anyone took note. Benedict’s mind churned over the possibility until an idea formed in his head. It would be risky, fraught with peril should the truth be discovered. But if she hadn’t been seen, then no one would be the wiser and there existed the possibility they could come out of this unscathed.

  “I’m afraid I cannot allow you to leave here.”

  “You cannot—forgive me?” Judith looked up sharply and one curl slipped from its pin and bounced against her cheek. He curled his fingers into his palm in an attempt to prevent reaching out and tucking the recalcitrant lock behind her ear, where he would linger, perhaps lean in close and whisper—

  Hell and damn! He clasped his hands more tightly behind him.

  Perhaps his insistence that she stay was a bad idea. Then again, likely even the best idea was a bad one at this point. But since it was the only plan he could come up with that had a chance of success, slim as said chance might be, he saw little sense in changing course now.

  “If you are amenable to the idea, I can keep you here under my protection, provided you remain within these four walls.”

  “You expect me to stay? But I cannot. Not with your mother no longer in residence. It wouldn’t be proper.”

  “Judith, you are here now without chaperone. The damage is done. If you step beyond that door, you risk being seen departing. But if no one has noticed your arrival, perhaps we can still save your reputation.”

  “How?” She did not sound convinced.

  “If you stay here, we can secret you inside of this house until the time comes for me to depart for Sheridan Park later in the week. At that time, we can leave in the wee hours of the morning when no one is about and make our way out of London, no one the wiser. But you must commit to staying within these four walls.”

  “You mean I cannot go outside? At all? Not even to the gardens?” She waved a hand in the direction of the gardens that resided at the back of the house. He wasn’t sure what she wanted to see in the gardens. The flowers had long since succumbed to the colder temperatures, leaving behind tangled stems and roots in their wake. Perhaps, like him, she simply preferred the fresh air to being trapped inside all day.

  “It is too risky. The garden walls are not so high the neighbors might not look down from their upper windows and see you there.”

  “And what about your staff?”

  “They can be trusted.” They had kept Uncle Henry’s secrets, hadn’t they? And Abigail’s, when she had ventured off into Madame St. Augustine’s den of inequity to seek her revenge for their uncle’s death. Saints preserve him, but could his family do nothing without courting disgrace? It made him question whether he should not just give in to the inevitability of it all.

  But he could not set Judith on such a path. No matter how desperately he wished she was the one he could surrender to scandal with.

  Her shoulders lifted and fell upon a sigh. “I suppose I do not have a choice in the matter, do I?”

  He didn’t answer as she glanced around the room. Did she see the shabbiness edging in? The wear upon the furniture? The faded rugs? The repair required to the hearth? If she did, she gave no indication. He wished he could offer her finer lodgings, but his circumstances were what they were, and if he ever hoped to improve them, he must keep her under wraps or risk losing any opportunity for claiming a well-dowered bride. He had enough strikes against him as it was without adding a new scandal to the mix.

  “Now, before we get settled, perhaps you would like to tell me exactly what occurred that gave Lady Dalridge cause to sack you so unceremoniously?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  What did she say? What could she say? Judith certainly wasn’t about to reveal to Benedict what she had blurted out to Lady Dalridge. What would he think of her if she revealed the innocence he so carefully attempted to protect had already been compromised? Would he toss her out on her backside and wash his hands of her?

  She looked at him for a long moment. No. Of course he wouldn’t. He was a kind man, after all. A good man. But even a good man could not help but react when he learned his perception of someone was wrong. Would he understand? Or would he hold it against her, forever looking at her just a little bit differently than before?

  “Would you be upset with me if I told you I did not wish to speak of it?”

  He tilted his head to one side and his mouth twisted. Heavens, but he had the most kissable mouth. She did not blame herself for being unable to resist it. She challenged any woman to feel differently.

  Though the real challenge would be resisting him while holed up in Glenmor House with him like clandestine lovers. Which was exactly what everyone would believe they were should her presence be discovered. Then poor Benedict would be cast in the role of debaucher of innocents, and she would be forever ruined. Not exactly the reputation either of them wanted, and one that would likely prevent him from attaining a wealthy bride and her any future employment.

  “I suppose it is your right,” he said, pulling Judith from her reverie. “But if you change your mind, I am all ears.”

  Which he wasn’t, of course. Why even his ears were perfect. But he was all heart. A truth she never expected to believe about a titled gentleman of the ton, yet Benedict had changed her mind in that regard. Perhaps she had been wrong to view all men with the taint of what Lord Pengrin had done. The difficulty was determining which gentlemen upheld their honor and integrity and which did not. She had once considered Lord Pengrin to be a good man, only to find her trust to be egregiously misplaced.

  “You are very generous to do this for me. I’m not certain how I can ever repay your kindness.”

  He smiled and his warm blue eyes crinkled at the corner, thin lines fanning toward the tips of his cheekbones. “You can ensure no one knows you are here and that will be repayment enough.”

  Because he must marry another. How many times would she need to remind herself of that unpleasant truth? Daily? Hourly? More?

  “I promise you, I will do nothing to endanger your future plans.”

  Behind her, the fire crackled, casting its warmth against her legs. When he did marry, would he sit on the sofa to her left, curled up like cats with his chosen bride? Would they talk like old friends well into the evening, perfectly at ease with each other’s company? And when they retired for the night, would they hide beneath the covers and enjoy the secrets to be found in the marriage bed, sharing their bodies as they had their easy conversations?

  The mental image of him indulging in such intimacies with another woman cut so deeply into her heart, it could mean only one thing.

  She had, despite all her best intentions, fallen desperately in love with the Earl of Glenmor.

  * * *

  The situation could not have been more calamitous. It was sheer lunacy to allow her to stay, but what other choice did he have? He could hardly send her on her way, leave her alone and unprotected in London. Even with the funds Lady Dalridge had paid her for services rendered, what she had would barely keep her for a week, even if she managed to find a respectable place that would take in a single lady.

  No, he had done the right thing. It was just that…

  Benedict stared blankly at the ledger in front of him and sighed for about the sixth time in ten minutes. It had been three days since Judith’s arrival. Thirty-six long, torturous hours. He had no clue how to exist in this house with her. He could not turn a corner without fear she would be coming from the other direction. And when she wasn’t, he could
not stop the wave of disappointment that greeted him in her absence.

  He dropped his head to rest against the pages of the ledger that detailed in perfectly ordered columns the dire circumstances of the family’s finances and groaned. She was a prisoner in his home and yet he was the one locked away in his study for fear seeing her would cause him to lose the tenuous grip he had on his self-control. Because what he really wanted—what he imagined whenever he walked the hallways of Glenmor House—was not only finding her around the next corner, but also pinning her to the wall then kissing her madly until he’d ruined them both.

  Ah. He smiled. Now that was a lovely, lovely idea.

  His head shot up. No! No. Not lovely. Awful. Horrible. Disastrous!

  He pushed away from his desk and stalked to the door. He needed air. Fresh air, but London in the early evening would have to do. He must clear his mind of Judith Sutherland and erase all thoughts of touching her or kissing her or—

  A vision of her splayed across the soft linen sheets on his bed, her dark hair curled seductively around her generous breasts, teasing the nipples while she looked up at him with a knowing smile, filled with mystery and promise filled his head.

  Dear sweet Lord!

  He yanked open the door and rushed down the hallway, taking the steps two at a time and practically leaping upon the floor of the foyer, his boots skidding against the polished marble.

  “Good heavens, my lord!” Titus jumped back, the silver salver he always seemed to be carrying in his hand nearly upended in surprise, forcing him to slap a gloved hand over the envelopes laid out on its surface.

  “My coat, Titus. I must leave. I need to—” No. Best he not actually say what he needed aloud. “I must take some air.”

  Titus recovered himself. “Now, my lord?”

  “Yes, now. Immediately. This very second.” Bloody hell. He sounded like a raving lunatic. Calm yourself, man!

  But the teasing vision of Judith, naked beneath him, had sent his blood boiling and his heart racing and only the cold December air had any hope of setting things back to rights. And he must set things back to rights, even if he had to walk all night to do so. He was being abominably rude, after all, avoiding her as he did. What kind of host treated a guest in such a disparaging way? His mother would be shocked at his behavior.

  Although, likely the bigger shock would be the fact Judith was here at all under such circumstances. And should his mother become privy to the scandalous notions he’d entertained since first issuing his invitation for Judith to stay, she would be thoroughly horrified and likely call for his head on a platter.

  Titus returned with his coat and held it out for him to slip his arms into. “Shall I put these in your study, my lord?” He nodded toward the salver he’d set on a small table near the stairs.

  “Is there anything of interest?”

  “The Lindwells are hosting a dinner party and wish your attendance, my lord. As well, there are several other invitations of note and a letter that bears the Blackbourne seal and appears to have been addressed by your sister, Lady Blackbourne, if my eye does not deceive.”

  Likely another missive insisting he cease his ridiculous bride hunt. How desperately he wished he could take her up on it. “Put them on my desk, Titus. I will see to them upon my return.”

  The Lindwells. Both daughters were lovely to look upon. Both had dowries significant enough to make his life much easier. He should decide upon one of them and court her, make an offer. Get it over with. It made sense. They wished a titled gentleman; he wished a fortune in exchange. It was a fair swap. Yet he could not think of it without his insides turning cold. Hardly a brilliant start to a life together.

  If only—

  But no. He did not allow the extravagance of if onlys.

  “I will return later, Titus. Do not hold dinner for me.”

  Yet another meal Judith would take alone. He really must gain control of his desires or risk having her hate him for his inhospitable nature by week’s end.

  “But my lord, it is—”

  “Whatever it is, I will deal with it later.” He needed to get away, to let the fresh air clear his head. To—holy sweet Jesus!

  The harsh wind whipped across his face like a hard slap, cold and bitter, pulling the air from his lungs, and leaving him reeling. He blinked but it did nothing to rid him of the wet snowflakes sticking to his lashes, all but blinding him. When had this happened? Granted, he had spent the better part of the day enshrouded in his study and took little notice of the weather. But when had it gone from a dreary, gray day to the ungodly white hell unleashed from above? Why, he could barely see to the other side of the street.

  He stumbled back into the foyer, shaking the snow from his hair and coat. Titus awaited him on the other side in silence, although his single, raised eyebrow spoke volumes.

  “It appears to be snowing.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  Benedict cleared his throat. “Likely that is what you were about to tell me.”

  “Indeed, my lord.”

  “Right. Very well then.” He forced a tight smile. “It appears I will be staying for dinner after all.”

  “I shall alert the kitchens, my lord.”

  * * *

  Benedict’s presence at dinner surprised her, given his studious attempts to dodge her over the past few days. Not a coincidence, she was certain. Glenmor House was not so large that he could avoid her unless attempting to do so. Not that she blamed him, really. She had shown up on his doorstep unannounced with every intent on staying here, putting them both in a precarious predicament. Granted, she had believed Mrs. Laytham in residence at the time, but her erroneous assumption did not alter their present dilemma.

  She was a prisoner of her own making, filling the endless hours reading and doing needlepoint. After three days, she was bored to tears and would have greatly appreciated some conversation. A little interaction with her host. She would have even settled for a hint of his smile as they passed in the hall.

  Except they never passed in the hall. Although she could have sworn that yesterday afternoon, she heard his approach only to then hear a hasty retreat. When she turned the corner, no one was there, but the door to Mrs. Laytham’s bedchamber was slightly ajar. Perhaps it had only been one of the maids, but the footfalls had sounded too heavy.

  Now, with dinner at an end, she’d barely been able to coerce more than a few words out of Benedict. Had he come to the conclusion her presence in his home was a horribly flawed idea? If so, she had but one recourse available.

  “I think it best if I leave,” she announced, glancing sideways to where Benedict sat at the head of the table.

  His fork, filled with succulent roast beef, stopped halfway to his mouth, which hung open, waiting to accept it. The fork hovered for a moment before he lowered it back down to his plate. “Leave? But you’ve barely touched your meal?”

  “No, not the meal. The house.”

  Surprise registered on his features doing nothing to mar his handsomeness. “You can’t. We discussed this. It is too risky. If you are recognized, you will be ruined. Whatever you need, I will have someone fetch it for you.”

  “You misunderstand. It isn’t that I need something. It is more that you have made it clear you do not want me here and I do not blame you. I arrived without warning and cast us both into an untenable situation. It was wrong of me to stay here. I should have left immediately and not involved you in my problems.”

  “I told you to come to me.”

  And she had taken him up on it without considering the price they would pay for it. She’d had no right to jeopardize his future in such a way. It was not fair. He had his own problems and her presence here only compounded them.

  “I appreciate what you have done, but I cannot in good conscience continue to put you in harm’s way. It was selfish of me not to consider this beforehand.” But in the moment, all she’d been able to think of was finding a safe place to go and she could think of no place sa
fer than with Benedict. “I will use my earnings to hire a carriage and convey me home.”

  His hand cut through the air. “Absolutely not. I cannot send you on such a journey unprotected.”

  “It is not your decision, my lord.”

  “It is very much my decision. You came to me for protection and are now under my care. As such—”

  “Leaving is my prerogative and there is nothing you can do to stop me short of barring the doors and windows to prevent my departure. I have taken up enough of your time and put your ability to find a suitable bride in peril. I cannot allow this to continue. I will leave at an early hour of the morning while your neighbors are still tucked in their beds and spirit myself out of town before anyone is the wiser.”

  “Which does nothing to address you traveling without chaperone or protection.”

  “I can hire that as well.”

  “You do not have the funds to cover such an expenditure.”

  “If you were to arrange such, I am certain Uncle Arran will—”

  Benedict’s hand cut through the air, nearly brushing his wineglass that the footman had already refilled twice. “No. I will allow no such thing. Sir Arran would have my hide if I did not personally ensure your safety. I cannot—will not—hand such a task over to someone else.”

  “Uncle Arran may well have your hide if he sees us arrive together, knowing we do so without a proper chaperone.”

  “I will bring Mrs. Feeney.”

  “And what of the time I spent here in the interim?”

  He shrugged, though looked uncertain, as if he had not quite considered this part of their dilemma. “We will conveniently leave that part out. We can tell him I brought you directly from Lord Ridgemont’s. He will be none the wiser in that regard.”