Valor's Reward

by Jean R. Ewing

  Jessica laughed. “I wish it hadn’t taken you so long to see it.”

  “You’re not offended, are you?”

  “Of course not. I have been trying to tell you so myself ever since we met.”

  He stood up and began to walk up and down the room.

  “When Caroline fainted like that, I realized how dear she has become to me. She’s not as dashing as you are, of course, but we have become very close. To be honest, I think that I love her, and she needs a fellow who can protect and take care of her. I shall cherish her all my life. I swore her an oath that I’ll never gamble again and I mean it. I shall be a model.”

  “I’m very relieved to hear it.”

  He grinned. “Are you really?”

  Jessica leaped up and held out her hand. “I am in alt, Lord Steal. Nothing you could tell me would make me any happier. Now, let’s be the best of friends and shake hands on it.”

  Her hand was grasped and pumped vigorously up and down.

  “And thank you for what you did, too,” he added, coloring. “Winning Tresham back from Cranby like that. I only hope you won’t pay for it. It wasn’t the least ladylike, you know. Shooting flowers.”

  “Fiddlesticks! Lord Deyncourt lent the entire scene his credence by inviting us all into his garden. I have been led to believe ever since I arrived in town—by more people than I care to remember—that he is the very model of everything that is most admired and can do no wrong. How could I possibly suffer from acting under his auspices?”

  “Well, I hope you’re right, that’s all. Now, you had better go up and see Caroline. She’s resting, but she’ll be all right.”

  Jessica shook him by the hand again and went up the stairs. Miss Brandon was reclining on the chaise longue, but when she saw her friend she jumped up and hugged her. She didn’t look in the least delicate.

  “However did you know to give me such good advice, Miss Whinburn?” she said. “Was it so very wicked of me to pretend to faint?”

  “Of course not! Probitas laudatur et alget.”

  Caroline looked puzzled.

  “Juvenal,” Jessica explained. “Virtue may be praised, but it’s often neglected—without a helping hand, that is.”

  Caroline laughed. “Yet I confess that I really was quite shocked. Where on earth did you learn to fire a gun like that? Never mind, you are my dearest friend. When I collapsed in Peter’s arms, he became so solicitous. He has never been so before. We had the most wonderful talk.” She blushed and looked down. “As he left, you know, he was actually so bold as to ask for a kiss.”

  “Then I hope you gave him one.”

  Caroline’s cheeks flamed like a beacon. “Oh, Miss Whinburn, it was wonderful!”

  * * *

  Sir Gordon Cranby stalked from Deyncourt House in a white rage. Shrugging off the little gaggle of cronies who had tried to offer their condolences, he was blind to all passersby.

  Within fifteen minutes he had stormed into the Incomparable Melton’s boudoir.

  Honoria sat up at the sight of his face.

  “For heaven’s sake, Cranby! You look completely blue-deviled. Even you might at least knock.”

  “Damnation, Honoria! Be quiet and listen.” Rapidly he told her of the wager over the rose and its dénouement in Deyncourt’s garden. “The work and plans of six months, smashed in a moment. Deyncourt would never have found out. I had Steal right where I wanted him, in the very palm of my hand. If it hadn’t been for that Whinburn chit, I’d have had him on his knees. How was I to know that she could handle a pistol like that?”

  “Well, it was a crazy risk to take. If you already had the promise of Tresham, why on earth did you wager at all?”

  “How could I refuse? Half of London was witness to the transaction. I should have looked the complete fool.”

  “Which you do now anyway. Half of London, you say?” The Incomparable Melton wrinkled her lovely brow. “What do you intend to do about it?”

  Cranby laughed. It was a remarkably unpleasant sound.

  “Lord Steal may keep Tresham, debts and all.” He picked up a lock of Honoria’s bright hair and spun it thoughtfully in his fingers. “I think it’s time you told Deyncourt that little tidbit you learned from Cicely Pratchett.”

  “About the Blue Boar? But how will that help you? Deyncourt will only force Steal to marry Jessica Whinburn, instead.”

  “At which point I shall be ready to console the jilted Miss Brandon. I had hoped to gain Tresham and her fortune, as well, but it doesn’t pay to be greedy. Her fifty thousand will have to be enough by itself. Of course, it’ll be tiresome to take on the milk-and-water miss with the blunt, but many a lesser man has managed an unwanted wife. No doubt I shall, too.”

  “Managed to totally ignore her, you mean. Really, Cranby, you are incorrigible.”

  “You are hardly in a position to carp. If Deyncourt knew that the fair Honoria had so carelessly depleted her own fortune at the tables and was hoping to bring it all to rights by battening onto his, he might not offer for you, after all.”

  Honoria blushed scarlet, but then she gave her cousin a lovely smile.

  “Then it would indeed seem to be time to tell him of the disgraceful behavior of his ward at the Blue Boar. It can only serve both our interests.”

  Cranby grinned back. “My thoughts entirely, my dear. Within three months we shall both be wed—you to Deyncourt and I to Caroline Brandon. Then we can have the pleasure of cuckolding them both at the same time. Lord Steal and Miss Whinburn will have to do their best to subsist at Tresham, the pariahs of society and poor as church mice.”

  * * *

  Lady Honoria ordered her carriage and went straight to Deyncourt House. She took the precaution of bringing Cicely Pratchett with her.

  Michael was alone in his study, but he welcomed her with perfect courtesy and ordered wine for them both, while the maid stood stiffly by the door.

  “I have just heard, Lord Deyncourt, of the latest scandalous escapade involving our poor Miss Whinburn,” Honoria began. “Northumberland must be a perfect backwater, if she is an example of North Country manners.”

  “No doubt.”

  She arranged her skirts seductively as she sat down. “I know you have done your noble best for Miss Whinburn for the sake of Lady Emilia Shay, so it gives me real pain to tell you that there is much worse.”

  He raised a brow. “Really?”

  Honoria glanced down at her reticule in lovely confusion. “I hardly know how to tell you this, except to come right out with it. Lord Steal has compromised Miss Jessica Whinburn, and it is bound to get out. Pratchett here witnessed it. By my orders she has told no one else, but these things never stay secret.”

  “Pray, continue, Lady Honoria,” he said softly.

  The Incomparable was the very picture of maidenly modesty as delicate color suffused her perfect cheeks.

  “There is apparently an inn called the Blue Boar, not too far from town, but not the sort of place where people of quality usually stop. Nevertheless, Lord Steal took her there on their journey from Tresham to London. They spent the night together in his room.”

  “And you were witness to this, Miss Pratchett?” As if he heard himself from a great distance, his voice sounded perfectly calm.

  “Yes, my lord,” the maid replied boldly. “I could not be mistaken. Miss Whinburn never slept in her own bed at all. She spent the whole night in Lord Steal’s room. I saw them kiss in the corridor the next morning—saw it with my very own eyes. And she had a night rail of silk. I reckon he gave it to her.”

  A night rail of silk—

  Honoria peeked up at him under her eyelashes. “I hope you will not think worse of me, Deyncourt, for being the harbinger of such dreadful news. I declare that not a word would have passed my lips, except that I was so shocked when I first heard of it that I told my cousin, Sir Gordon Cranby. He swore himself to secrecy at the time, but after what has just happened between him and Lord Steal, I’m afraid Cranby might t
ry to drown his sorrows. And when he is in his cups—who knows?”

  With ice in his heart, Michael set down his wine and stood up.

  “Let me call for your carriage, Lady Honoria,” he said. “The indelicate nature of this story has obviously overset you. Of course, you saw it only your duty to tell me, and I am confident that you will not breathe a word to anyone. Never fear, I shall take appropriate action.” He bowed over her hand and kissed it. “If Miss Whinburn is ruined, there will have to be a marriage, won’t there?”

  The Incomparable smiled and glanced aside, offering him the beautiful turn of her throat. Her skirts rustled as she left, her maid tripping behind her.

  Michael stared blindly into the fireplace for a few moments, then he rang for his manservant.

  Dover entered the room and stopped short.

  “Is something wrong, my lord?”

  “I am going to Lady Emilia’s. I shall walk. Send a message to Lord Steal. He is to drop everything he is doing and meet me there immediately.”

  * * *

  Jessica returned to her great-aunt’s in a glow of satisfaction. Now, at last, perhaps she could give attention to her own problems. What would happen to her reputation now she had behaved so scandalously? Well, to the devil with it! It had been worth anything to see Caroline and Peter happy.

  Lady Emilia had already heard about the untimely death of the rose. With her lips pursed together, she demanded Jessica explain herself.

  “I have tried to impress upon you the necessity for a young lady to behave with the strictest decorum. To take an action that makes you the talk of the town! Whatever were you thinking? I warned your father of the consequences, should he teach you such outlandish things.”

  “For your sake, I’m sorry, Aunt Emilia,” Jessica said.

  “Yet it was splendidly done.” The old lady’s face broke into a merry smile. “If you’re going to do something, do it well.”

  “Then I’m glad you approve, Aunt Emilia.”

  “Now I did not say I approved, but I do wish I’d been there to see their faces.” She went off into peals of laughter. “It will be all of a nine-days’ wonder. Then the ton will find something else to talk about. We’ll defy the lot of them together. My dear Jessica, there’s not much you could do that Deyncourt and I together couldn’t brazen out for you.”

  “I wish I could agree, Lady Emilia.”

  Jessica spun about. The earl stood in the doorway to the drawing room, his face set like stone.

  He stalked into the room. “Lady Honoria has just been kind enough to inform me otherwise.”

  Lady Emilia stared at him in obvious surprise. “Whatever do you mean? Between us I should have thought we had enough consequence to offset anything Jessica could possibly do.”

  “Except for one thing,” the earl said.

  “Which is?”

  “To share a bed at the Blue Boar with my ward.”

  * * *

  Chapter 15

  “How on earth did Lady Honoria find out?” Jessica asked eventually.

  Lord Deyncourt glanced at her, his expression blank. “From Cicely Pratchett, Miss Whinburn.”

  Lady Emilia turned to Jessica. “Surely this is not true, child?”

  Color flooded back to Jessica’s face as she leaped to her feet.

  “Oh, Lord!” she said. “I’m afraid that it is—but not in that way! I mean, it was all a silly mistake. Lord Steal snored away the entire night in a chair with the key in his back pocket. He was unconscious till morning. Nothing happened.”

  “For heaven’s sake!” Aunt Emilia said. “I should think not indeed. But that is entirely beside the point. If this gets out, you are ruined. Will Lady Honoria feel obliged to tell her acquaintance, Deyncourt?”

  He stalked to the window and gazed out. “The Incomparable as good as told me that she was about to publish the tale in a penny broadsheet.”

  There was a commotion on the stairs, before Peter burst unceremoniously into the room.

  “I received your message, Deyncourt. Has anything happened to Caroline? Oh, hello, Miss Whinburn.”

  His face was red with the effort of running all the way from his lodgings and made a wonderful clash with a very fine puce coat.

  “There is no need to have apoplexy,” Lady Emilia announced with authority. “Miss Brandon isn’t involved. I think everyone had better sit down. I shall call for some wine, and we shall discuss this like civilized English gentlemen and ladies. Tell him what Lady Honoria said, Deyncourt. Then I want an account from the beginning, young man.”

  The earl explained in a sentence, then Jessica allowed Peter to tell the whole sorry tale.

  “It was dashed stupid of me,” he said at the end. “Miss Whinburn was trapped, but it was all my silly blunder. I was foxed. You must believe that it wasn’t her fault. And nothing improper happened, I swear it.”

  “This is beyond the bounds of anything,” Lady Emilia said. “How could you have been so lost to all propriety? However, there is nothing else for it. You children will have to marry, and immediately.”

  “But I can’t marry Miss Whinburn,” Peter said. “I’m in love with Caroline.”

  “I am glad to hear that you have had such a sudden change of heart, sir,” the earl said. “But it’s a little late, isn’t it?”

  Peter leaped from his chair. “Oh, God! I shan’t ruin the lives of three people just because of something so stupid. Miss Whinburn don’t want to marry me. And what about Caroline? I love her. She loves me.”

  “You might have thought of that, sir, before you kissed Miss Whinburn in front of Lady Honoria’s maid.”

  Except for the ice in his tone, Deyncourt seemed unmoved by the proceedings.

  “Did I kiss you?” Peter said, looking blankly at Jessica. “Oh, I suppose I did. But it didn’t signify anything. I thought she was a different person.”

  In spite of the gravity on all their faces, Jessica felt giggles bubbling up inside.

  “That is hardly a flattering remark, Lord Steal,” she said. “I don’t want to marry you, either, if it’s any consolation. In fact, I refuse to do so.”

  “But you must,” Lady Emilia insisted. “I want to hear no more on the matter. There is no living this down. If you shared a bedroom with a man, you shall marry him.”

  “But Deyncourt did it first,” Peter objected. “Jessica spent several nights in his bedchamber at Tresham. Why doesn’t that count?”

  At which point, Lord Deyncourt began to laugh. The others looked at him in astonishment.

  “I have never had the vapors in my life,” Lady Emilia snapped. “But this is enough to try the patience of a saint. Has my great-niece spent a night in everybody’s bedroom?”

  “I trust not, Lady Emilia,” the earl replied. “But Steal is right. Miss Whinburn slept in my bed. She wore my nightshirt. We shared a most improper intimacy of situation and manner. The fact that my motives were only to save her from the hangman does not excuse me. Miss Whinburn shall marry me.”

  Jessica spun about to face him. “I shall do no such thing.”

  “But you will, Miss Whinburn,” he replied.

  “It’s capital,” Peter cried. “If you announce your engagement right away, it would only make Lady Honoria seem jealous if she was to spread tales.”

  “Good heavens, Steal,” Aunt Emilia said. “I believe you have hit upon something. For the Incomparable Melton to tell the story under the circumstances would reflect worse on her than on Jessica. No one would believe for a moment that the Earl of Deyncourt would marry a lady with a sullied reputation. She would merely appear piqued at being thrown over—as if she were making up scandal out of sour grapes. I have never had much use for Lady Honoria, and I have not tried to hide the fact, but I’ll allow this much: If an engagement is announced between Lord Deyncourt and my great-niece, the Incomparable would have too much pride to breathe another word about the Blue Boar.”

  “And anything Cranby says would be put down to spite over his
loss of our wager,” Peter added with enthusiasm. “If I had actually compromised Miss Whinburn, Lord Deyncourt would never offer for her. Everyone knows he’d never take someone else’s abandoned mistress to wife.”

  “Indeed,” Deyncourt said. He turned his bland gaze on Jessica. “So you see, Miss Whinburn, if you refuse my hand, you ruin Miss Brandon’s happiness, for then the tale will out and you will have to marry my ward. Accept it, and all may be settled. I think we shall have to give way with good grace, don’t you?”

  “But it is all nonsense.”

  “It is a simple matter of honor. I am guilty of the worst indiscretion and meekly accept my punishment.”

  Jessica’s face flamed. If Caroline’s future were not involved, she would scrub floors before accepting such an offer. But she could not destroy her friend’s happiness after working so hard to accomplish it. And surely this need only be a temporary solution?

  “Very well,” she said. “I accept.”

  The gentlemen got up to leave. For the plan to succeed, it was critical that the engagement be announced right away.

  Jessica could not even guess at Deyncourt’s thoughts as he bowed over her hand.

  “You do believe us, don’t you?” she asked. “Nothing improper took place at the Blue Boar.”

  “How can it be doubted, Miss Whinburn? As has been so cogently pointed out, no one in my position would dream of taking to wife a lady who had already shared another man’s bed. Of course, it would have been the ultimate weapon in your determination to disrupt my plans—to force Miss Brandon to cry off.”

  “You may think what you like,” Jessica replied acidly. “I can only wonder why, if you are determined to believe so, you do not take this opportunity to take the revenge that you promised.”

  “I am taking my revenge, Miss Whinburn. I can’t think of a better punishment than marriage to me.”

  * * *

  “He has not!” the Incomparable Melton cried.

  “I’m afraid so, dear cousin. The entire town is agog with it. Miss Jessica Whinburn is to become Countess of Deyncourt.”