To Love a Scandalous Duke (Once Upon a Scandal)

Home > Other > To Love a Scandalous Duke (Once Upon a Scandal) > Page 4
To Love a Scandalous Duke (Once Upon a Scandal) Page 4

by Rosa, Liana De la


  Declan nodded, not missing the scowl she directed at her brother. “Of course.”

  Firthwell dipped his head courteously and Alethea curtsied, and they walked away.

  Declan watched them go, his footing with them obviously not as firm as he assumed.

  Chapter Four

  April 1804

  I barely recognize the person staring out of the mirror at me.

  -The Diary of Lady Margaret Gordon

  “I apologize, Your Grace, but His Lordship is not home.” The butler folded his hands in front of his waist, looking decidedly unapologetic. “If I may suggest you set an appointment with him through his secretary. His Lordship has a demanding schedule.”

  Declan had written the Earl of Rockhaven’s secretary requesting an audience with the man. Twice. He’d received no response. Locking his jaw, he nodded. “I have done that.” Raising his brows, he emphasized, “But perhaps my letter went missing in the post.”

  The little butler nodded as if this excuse was plausible, and Declan bit back words of reproach. The fact he was still standing on the top step, outside, instead of having been shown to a parlor, as befitted his station, was telling. In fact, Declan was surprised the tense servant had even deigned to open the door to him.

  He attempted a different path. “Are Lord Firthwell or Lady Alethea in for visitors?”

  Before Declan had finished speaking, the butler had begun shaking his head. “Unfortunately, they are not, Your Grace.”

  Without another word, Declan pivoted, jerking on the fit of his kid leather gloves. The door snapped shut behind him with a censure only a Mayfair butler could accomplish.

  He stopped on the walk, shielding his face from the sun with his hand as he looked both left and right, trying to determine what he should do next. Midday traffic rumbled down the cobblestone street, and several pedestrians glanced at him in curiosity. He ignored them.

  Lord Rockhaven had specifically indicated he was interested in meeting with him when they’d met at the theater, but he was ignoring his requests to do so. Declan had hoped by visiting Rockhaven House he’d be able to corner the earl in his lair, but he’d failed yet again.

  His questions regarding Albert’s last days begged to be answered, and Declan’s frustrations mounted at each day that passed without being able to pose them to the earl.

  Why was the man avoiding him?

  Resisting the urge to tear off his too tight cravat and throw it on the ground, Declan instead closed his eyes and counted to ten. Fifteen. Maybe twenty was a better goal. Breathing deeply, he was markedly calmer when he finally glanced about him. If Lord Rockhaven was going to avoid him, perhaps he could track him down at the club. Surely the man wouldn’t cut him in front of its illustrious members. Being a duke had to have some perks.

  A short time later, Declan was handing his hat and coat to a footman at White’s. He proceeded into the dining room, receiving curt nods and inquisitive stares as he weaved his way through the tables. He scanned the space, intent on finding Lord Rockhaven among the club members.

  His gaze landed on Firthwell sitting at a table on the opposite side of the room. When he saw Declan, he raised his hand in greeting. Declan debated whether he should acknowledge the man or ignore him. The viscount hadn’t been particularly warm at Tattersall’s, but perhaps Firthwell knew how he could track down the earl. Plus, he was relieved to see someone he knew. Declan jerked his head in acknowledgment and strode over.

  Firthwell stood when he arrived at the table, a frown on his face. “You appear to have had better days.”

  Declan scowled. “Why do you say that?”

  “Whenever you were upset, as a child at least, you used to get this little wrinkle in your forehead. Right between your eyes.” He shrugged. “It’s amusing to see you haven’t outgrown it.”

  Taken off guard by the observation, Declan looked away. He’d forgotten how close he and the viscount used to be. For a passing second, he regretted he no longer enjoyed such a friendship. “Yes, well, today has been challenging.”

  Extending his hand to the chair across the table from him, Firthwell said, “Tell me about it.”

  With one more glance around the room, Declan sank into the chair.

  Firthwell summoned a footman, who took Declan’s order. When the man departed, the viscount crossed his arms over his chest.

  “What’s wrong?” After Declan explained his attempts to meet with the earl, Firthwell heaved a great sigh. “It would appear he is dodging you. I wish I could tell you why.”

  Declan’s chuckle was humorless. “Do you expect me to believe you’re ignorant of his reasons?”

  “Despite what you may think, my father doesn’t disclose his every move to me. But if it were me, I know I wouldn’t be keen to meet with the man who blamed me for a crime I’m innocent of.”

  “He expressed an interest in meeting with me.” Declan leaned forward. “And how do you know he’s innocent? Because he told you so?”

  Firthwell scrubbed a hand down his face. “Dec, I don’t know why my father is avoiding you, and I don’t know anything about the scandal except what we’ve been told. But I do know I don’t want to argue with you. We used to be friends and I’d like to be friends again.”

  The viscount’s speech took the indignant wind out of Declan’s sails. “I’d prefer not to argue with you, either. I know I said things…out of anger to you and Alethea before I left. I regret I vented my frustrations on you when you were innocent of the transgression.”

  “But you don’t regret you said them?”

  Catching the viscount’s teasing smile, Declan relaxed and even offered a smile of his own.

  “I’ll see what I can do to help you meet with my father. In the meantime,” Firthwell extended a hand to him, “tell me about the West Indies.”

  Declan grasped the man’s hand. “My pleasure.”

  …

  Alethea had quickly soured of her weekly afternoon rides in the park with her father. Today, she wished she possessed a good excuse to cancel.

  Since the night at Drury Lane, the gossip surrounding Declan’s sudden return had grown into a bonfire. Every time she stepped out of the house, she was sure to find herself caught in a web of questions and conjectures about him and his past. Many people wondered if the new Duke of Darington would follow his late brother’s lead and shun society events, presumably to avoid the shame associated with their father’s death. Based on his appearance at the theater, she guessed not, which was a small relief.

  She’d made herself unavailable to the steady stream of visitors who called at Rockhaven House, and wished she could stay in until the worst of the talk faded under the cloud of a new, and therefore more interesting, scandal. But the earl believed it best to maintain their social schedule and seemed to have no qualms with the cloud of whispers that floated over them because of his association with the late duke, smiling through the inquiries and sidestepping the questions. But she knew her oh-so-proper father despised being the focus of past scandal.

  Alethea stood in front of the windows in the drawing room, her eyes trained outside for when the groom brought her horse around. She tapped her crop impatiently against her leg and cursed the pleasant weather. The sun peeked through high, thin clouds and a slight breeze tugged on the boughs of the birch tree that stood directly in front of Rockhaven House.

  The sunny skies seemed a waste on her dour mood.

  A noise from the side yard brought her head around, and she caught sight of Finlay riding into the mews. Since their outing at Tattersall’s the previous day, he’d avoided her, and she was determined to have her say about his high-handed behavior. Grabbing the train of her riding habit, she dashed toward the lower level and managed to maneuver her way through the narrow exit without trapping her skirts in the door.

  Finlay’s tall figure stood before the horse stalls, a brush in his hand as he groomed his mount. A stable hand stood nearby, waiting to relieve the viscount.

  “Fi
nlay,” Alethea exclaimed. She advanced on him with rapid steps. “Care to explain why you were so rude to Declan yesterday?”

  He paused his ministrations. “Do you truly believe I was rude? I wasn’t trying to be.”

  Alethea scowled. “Why did you decline his invitation?”

  “Father cautioned us to have a care in regards to him. With the constant talk, I thought it best not to be seen with him so soon after his arrival.” His mouth twisted. “Although I did just that not long ago.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had lunch with Declan at the club.”

  “Oh.” As her ire bled away, she considered this information. “Did he tell you why he was upset at Tattersall’s?”

  Finlay snorted. “He was probably upset because the gray stallion had an uneven gait.”

  “No. He was upset because he’d learned his brother’s death may have been more than a robbery.”

  Her words pulsed through the space between them, and Finlay blinked rapidly. “What do you mean?”

  Alethea told him of her conversation with Declan, the information he’d learned from his brother’s former groom, and finally of her offer.

  “How do you propose to help him?”

  “I’m not certain.”

  “Declan has employees at his disposal to assist with such matters.”

  She compressed her lips. “He said as much.”

  “I sense you’re withholding a ‘but.’ Out with it.”

  “But,” she said with all exaggeration, “will his investigators be able to move through the ton like we can? Albert was a duke. It stands to reason someone in society knew what he was about. What possible reason could he have for being in that disreputable neighborhood? It doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Perhaps we should mention it to Father and see if he can help.”

  Alethea ran her fingers along her mouth. “I think it best to let Declan speak with Father, if he so desires.”

  “If Father ever agrees to meet with him.” Finlay relayed his conversation with Declan at White’s.

  “Do you suppose he’s avoiding him on purpose?”

  “Of course he is.” He grimaced. “I just don’t know why.”

  Finlay ran his brush over his horse’s coat, whispering affectionate words to the beast. After a moment, Alethea asked, “Ride out with Father and me.”

  His bubble of laughter met her request. “Sorry, but I have plans.”

  Dropping her head to the horse’s neck, she sighed. “Leaving the house is like stepping into a hornet’s nest. I tire of smiling when I really want to tell people to mind their own business and leave him alone.”

  “His return really has the ton at sixes and sevens, doesn’t it?”

  “I suppose it does. Although I wish they would leave us out of it.”

  “It’s that blasted scandal.” Finlay exhaled in a huff, wiping a hand across his brow. “It may have occurred more than a decade ago, but people have a long memory. Albert may not have been friendly with Father, but they were able to work together. I’m sure many are wondering if this newly returned Duke of Darington will as well.”

  “I suppose that makes sense.”

  “Of course it does.” Finlay snorted when Alethea rolled her eyes. “Declan is surrounded by mystery. Rumor has it he’s made a fortune in trade. Plus, he doesn’t fit the mold most think of when they conjure their idea of a duke. I’m sure there’s more than one person hoping he doesn’t remember them from before.”

  “What do you mean?”

  A perplexed frown twisted Finlay’s mouth. “Surely you remember how dismissive some members of society were of him. Or worse, his mother, the duchess.” Finlay smirked. “Even Father had his moments. I remember him barely greeting the duchess, let alone giving her the respect her title deserved. And Mother was always quick to blame Declan for every scrape and tumble we got into. I can’t believe you don’t remember that.”

  Oh, she remembered. Her father’s brief looks of contempt when he glanced at Declan were hard to forget. They had confused her then, but now their memory simply left a dull ache in her chest. “I’m not sure what I remember.”

  Finlay grunted but said nothing. After a moment, he asked, “Does this concern for public opinion mean you’re going to finally look for a husband this Season?”

  Alethea jerked her head back. “Whatever are you talking about?”

  “I assumed you were bothered by the gossip because you thought it could hurt your ability to make a strong match.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You have turned down scores of eligible suitors since you debuted.”

  “They were only eligible on paper, and even then, not really.” She scoffed. “Lord Morrison was more than twice my age.”

  “That’s not uncommon.” He spread his arms. “And if you’re lucky, your husband will live for only a handful of years, and then you’ll be rewarded for your obedience with widowhood.”

  “You’re a toad, Finlay Swinton.”

  “Oh, that silver tongue of yours will snare you a husband in no time.” Finlay dodged Alethea’s attempt to slap him with her crop.

  She went still. “I don’t want to marry and be treated like a hothouse plant. Expected to continuously bloom under controlled conditions while I watch life pass me by.” She thought of her time teaching in Scotland. Of the lessons she gave at the foundling home. She enjoyed putting the skills and knowledge she’d learned to use. But she wanted more.

  Declan’s handsome face flitted across her thoughts, and she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of husband he would be. Would he allow his wife to participate in running the dukedom or would he expect his duchess to be merely a lovely hostess?

  If her parents had not objected to the betrothal agreement the late Duke and Duchess of Darington had offered, she might know the answer to such a question. The memory of the emotional pain their refusal created made her throat burn, and she swallowed, pushing down such fruitless thoughts. Apparently, she was not immune to the confusion surrounding Declan Sinclair’s return, and her complex feelings derived from much more than just his new, lofty title. Or alarming good looks.

  “Allie, there you are.”

  Her father’s greeting jolted her to awareness. She twitched out her skirts with her hand and pasted a conciliatory look on her face. “I’m sorry, Father. Have you been looking for me long?”

  “Some minutes. But it’s of no concern. Samuels said you were here with your brother.” Lord Rockhaven considered Finlay. “Were you going to ride out with Allie and me? You know we always welcome your company.”

  “No. Unfortunately, I have plans.” He narrowed his eyes. “I saw Darington at the club. Said he’s been trying to make an appointment with you but hasn’t received a response.”

  “Yes, my secretary told me he’d written. Anders was to send him a list of dates I’m available.”

  Finlay raised a shoulder. “Mayhap Anders can send the list again.”

  Lord Rockhaven raised a sharp brow. “Very well. But tell me why you’re so interested in having me meet with him.”

  “He thinks you’re avoiding him. Are you?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” The earl made a rude noise. “I have no reason not to meet with the young man. I’ve merely been busy. I’ll see to setting an appointment when I return from the park.”

  Finlay looked at Alethea askance, then nodded. “Thank you, Father. Enjoy your ride.”

  He ignored the disgruntled look she threw him and disappeared into the house.

  The earl nodded to the groom who brought his mount and adjusted the straps on his saddle. “Well, let’s hurry before the park becomes so crowded we can’t even move.”

  She was just slipping her foot into the groom’s hands to mount when a voice halted her motion.

  “My lord, you have a visitor.”

  Alethea looked over her shoulder to see Samuels standing with a tall, reedy man she’d never seen before. The man’s attir
e was stylish and expensive, and he wore a friendly smile. His amiable demeanor didn’t reach his gaze. Instead, it was critical, seeming to look right through her, and that made her uneasy.

  Lord Rockhaven pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Please bring him to my study, Samuels. I’m sorry, but it appears I won’t be able to make our excursion today, Allie.” The earl dismounted, tossed the reins to a waiting hand, and then kissed her lightly on her cheek. “Please take a groom and enjoy the pleasant weather. I’m sure you will find many friends at the park to keep you company.”

  She laid a hand over the spot he kissed as he disappeared into the house. What sort of business could her father have with the man, and why did he make her so uncomfortable?

  Chapter Five

  May 1804

  As the day grows closer, I fear my bones grow colder. I don’t know how I will bear it.

  -The Diary of Lady Margaret Gordon

  The midafternoon crowd filled the narrow streets, taking advantage of the pleasant late spring weather. Pedestrians didn’t amble, conscious clouds could build suddenly and drench the city, leaving those caught unaware in a stew of water and muck. Although the warm sunshine cheered Alethea, it couldn’t completely bleach out her confusion.

  She slowly turned her horse down Piccadilly, her mount dodging pedestrians, carriages, and other riders as her thoughts congealed into a lump of incoherent theories.

  Why had she responded so strongly to the man at Rockhaven House? What business did he have that would make the earl cancel their riding date? Was her father really ignoring Declan or had it been an oversight as he claimed?

  If she had a more useful exercise to occupy her besides a ride in the park, or at-home hours, or a slew of other pursuits her father deemed “ladylike,” perhaps her mind wouldn’t be so absorbed by what many would see as innocuous actions.

  If only Declan had agreed to allow her to help him.

  “Do you usually allow your mare to dictate where you’ll go? If you’re not careful, she’ll return to her stall.”

 

‹ Prev