Scandal's Daughter

by Emma V. Leech

  He ground to a halt, one hand leaning on the wall beside him for support because the pain of it was so fierce he could hardly draw a breath. Unless she had known who he was from the start. Unless she had planned it, as a way to avenge herself on him and his family. Perhaps she hadn't meant to, the way they'd met had been improbable after all but once she'd realised ... But he'd said he was Beau. The thought occurred to him now that Beau must know what he'd done and nausea roiled in his gut. Good God. And Beau was determined to marry her.

  No. No. No! What had he done? What had she done? Blind with rage and shame and heartbreak he strode down the stone steps to the foyer and out into the night.

  ***

  Beau forced her to dance with him and with Lord Nibley, who was terribly kind and gallant though he trod all over her toes and was the most dreadful dancer she had ever encountered. Between the two of them and Céleste and Seymour who had sought them out the moment they'd realised what had happened, she was sheltered as far as they could manage. They spoke to her with care, moving her from one spot to another and away from the eager chattering that seemed to follow her like a plague of locusts, chirruping in her ears so loud she thought she might lose her mind. But through it all her mind spun around the impossible truth.

  He was the Duke of Sindalton. The son of the man who had shot her father and ruined her mother, ultimately leading her to her death. Had he known? But how could he have known who she was when she hadn't known herself? No. She dismissed the idea. It was too inconceivable that he should have met her by chance, guessed who she was and set out to ruin her ... wasn't it?

  But then she remembered that he hadn't ruined her at all, though he could have done. He could have taken her because she'd been too wrapped up in him to refuse him anything. And yet he hadn't. He hadn't taken that from her which was irreplaceable and he'd said it was because he loved her. But why? Why had he pretended he was Beau when he was a wealthy duke?

  The thoughts swirled in her head until finally, she was ushered into the carriage and taken away into the blessed darkness of the night. She allowed the gloom of the street to swallow her up and take her back to a place where she could go and tend her wounded heart in private, and try and consider what on earth she could do to mend it.

  Chapter 21

  "Wherein old lies tangle up the future."

  Sebastian woke with a start and clutched at his head. It was throbbing in the most violent manner and as he forced himself to sit forward the empty decanter at his feet told its own tale. He groaned, shivering as his stomach turned, acid burning in his chest and throat. The fire had long since died in his office and the room was freezing, dark, and more unwelcoming than he'd ever known it. This had been his father's space. His sanctuary. The room where Sebastian had always felt closest to him. He looked up at the portrait of the man whose image still hung on the chimney breast. A severe looking man with dark hair and darker eyes, but there was humour lurking behind the fierce expression and kindness too.

  Mother had told him that Lady Dalton had taken his father away from them. That she'd bewitched him and driven him mad. Mad enough to kill the woman's husband and run away from his lawful wife and son. The betrayal of that had been more than he could bear. He'd hated Lady Dalton with a cold burning fury that would have consumed him whole, if Beau hadn't turned up and shown him life could still be worth the trouble of living it.

  Almost as if he'd conjured him the door opened and he was confronted with Beau's furious blue gaze. He'd known, of course, that he'd have to face this. He got to his feet, a trifle unsteady but he stood, walking a few steps into the room and waiting as Beau advanced on him. The blow hit him square in the jaw and he fell backwards, sprawled across the study floor with lights exploding behind his eyes.

  "You bastard!" Beau, yelled at him, the furious sound ringing through his tender brain. "I ought to damn well kill you," he raged. "Damn you for being drunk!"

  Beau turned his back on him in disgust while he staggered to his feet, rubbing his jaw and testing his teeth one by one to see if they were all still intact.

  "I'm sorry," he mumbled, collapsing back in the chair with a groan. He looked up, watching as Beau glowered at him. "I am sorry, Beau."

  "What exactly is it you're sorry for?" Beau demanded, leaning against his desk and folding his arms across his chest. "Forgive me if I'd like a little clarity but there appear to be a number of crimes to be laid at your door."

  "All of it," he croaked, as his throat closed up. "For God's sake give me a glass of water."

  Beau scowled at him and tutted but did as he was asked, pouring out a glass from a jug on his desk and putting it into his hand.

  "Thank you."

  "I should throw it in your face," Beau muttered. "You know you nearly ruined her last night. How could you?"

  Sebastian downed the glass and tried to ignore the way his stomach clenched in protest. "I didn't mean to," he said, putting the empty glass aside and clutching at his head. "It was just ... such a shock, seeing her there."

  "Not as much of a shock as she got when I introduced myself the other day I assure you," Beau replied with a pointed expression.

  "Oh God," Sebastian groaned. "I am sorry, Beau."

  "So you keep saying."

  He looked up and frowned, staring at his friend. "She ... She was truly shocked? She didn't know?"

  "Of course she didn't know!" Beau exploded, making him wince as the sound tore through his head and slashed at his brain. "How the devil should she when you are apparently the Marquis of Beaumont. Came as a bit of a shock to me, I can tell you!"

  "I know, I know ... I can't ..."

  "Why?" Beau demanded. "Why in God's name would you do such a thing? Isn't it enough that you're a duke, that you've money enough to buy me a hundred times over without even noticing?" Sebastian dared to look up at his lifelong friend and wished to God he hadn't as he'd never seen such hurt in his eyes. "Damn it, Sebastian, all I have is this," he shouted, gesturing to that perfect face. "And the dubious honour of being the Marquis of Beaumont. Why would you want that too?"

  "I just ..." He closed his eyes and sighed, wondering how on earth he could make him understand. "It was only meant to be for a day or two. It was just ... I was so tired of being hunted, of knowing these bloody women only want me for my title and my money. I just ..." He paused and shook his head, running a shaky hand through his hair. "I just wanted a bit of fun and I thought ... if she believed I was you, she'd know I was never offering anything serious. She'd know I was just playing with her and that there was no money to be had from me. If she wanted to be with me it could only be because ... she wanted to be with me."

  He looked up again and met Beau's eyes, overcome with shame and humiliation. "I didn't mean it to go so far. I ... I never meant to fall in love with her."

  Beau gave a snort of disgust. "That at least I do believe."

  They sat in silence for awhile, until Sebastian heard the chink of a decanter and looked up as Beau offered him a small measure of brandy. He grimaced and turned away but the glass was forced into his hand.

  "Hair of the dog," Beau said, his voice gruff. "Make you feel better."

  He downed the measure in one go and shuddered. "Oh God."

  "You have no idea how I am enjoying your suffering," Beau said, his voice dark. "But what do you intend now?"

  Sebastian swallowed, the acidic taste in his mouth making him want to retch. He looked up at Beau, needing to know the answer to his question before he could reply to that. "Did ... did she truly not know who I was?"

  Beau returned an incredulous look. "Of course she didn't know, you fool! You believe she could fake a reaction like that?" He got to his feet and stalked over to the chair, glowering down at him. "You'd damned well better sober up fast because I want to hit you again!" Turning on his heel he marched to the door and grabbed the handle. "And I give you fair warning, Sin. I meant what I said. I'm going to marry her, and I'll be damned if I'll let you or anyone else get in my w
ay."

  With that he slammed the door on Sebastian and left him alone.

  ***

  They stayed at home for the next few days, a respite that Georgiana was only too relieved by, but she knew she couldn't hide forever. So tonight they were out, to a grand ball, though she couldn't find the interest or the will to discover whose or where. It would be just another sea of critical faces, all of them judging, all of them believing they knew what she was about, whether they viewed her kindly or not.

  The idea that she might have to face the Duke of Sindalton on top of all that was not a thought that helped in the slightest. Sebastian Grenville. Sebastian. She tried to fit the new name to him but somehow it felt foreign and awkward to think of him like that.

  Beau, however ... the Marquis of Beaumont lived up to his name quite perfectly. She remembered her thoughts when she'd first encountered Sebastian. He hadn't been what she'd expected of the notorious rake. Beau, however, Beau was exactly what she had believed him to be, just as she had imagined. Though in truth her imagination couldn't have conjured a face and figure that embodied masculine beauty to quite such a perfect degree. He was breathtakingly handsome, charming, witty, indolent, and rather kinder than she had expected.

  In a last ditch effort to cheer her up and take her mind off tonight's trial Céleste had suggested a trip back to Hatchard's. She had told the countess all about the fabulous book shop and her friend had been just as eager to sample its delights. So a pleasant morning had been spent among its thousands of books and she did indeed feel a little lighter in spirit. Until they reached home and she saw the serious look on Lord Falmouth's face.

  "Georgiana, might I have a word with you please?" he asked, and though he smiled at her his eyes remained grave.

  "Of course," she replied as her stomach turned with anxiety.

  Céleste went to turn away and give them privacy but she reached out and grabbed her friend's arm. "No, there's nothing that you can't hear and I think I might need the support," she said, laughing though she was only half joking.

  Céleste smiled in return and squeezed her hand and they followed the earl into the masculine confines of his study. Georgiana had always liked this room. It was quite sparsely furnished compared to the rest of the house, but the dark wood panelling and shelves upon shelves of books gave it a cosy feel. Especially on a cold, damp day when spring was not yet making its presence felt. The fire crackled with a merry snap in the fireplace and the room smelt subtly of cognac and cigars. The earl took his place behind a massive oak desk and she sat and waited as Céleste settled herself in the chair beside her.

  "I had a visit from your uncle this morning," he said with no preamble. The look of disgust in his eyes gave her the clear impression he had been as unimpressed by the Baron as she'd been.

  "Oh," she said, her heart sinking.

  "Oh, indeed," Lord Falmouth replied with a grimace. "And a more ill mannered, over stuffed piece of self importance I've never had the misfortune to deal with."

  "I'm so sorry," she muttered, blushing at the idea he'd had to deal with one of her obnoxious relations because of her.

  He waved her apology aside. "You cannot be held responsible for your relations, Georgiana. Not in my mind at any rate," he added, as they all knew among the ton everyone could and would be held responsible. "But the man is intent on causing trouble. It appears you missed an appointment to meet you cousin, Mr Rufford?"

  Georgiana shuddered and gave a brief nod. "He was supposed to propose to me and I was expected to accept him. A man I've never met before in my life," she added with such venom that Céleste reached out and grasp her hand again, squeezing the fingers.

  "No one, will make you marry 'im!" Céleste cried. "I swear it. Nor anyone you don't want to."

  Georgiana swallowed as a swell of emotion seemed to clog her throat. "It isn't as easy as that, Céleste. If he decides to ruin me you will be tainted by association."

  She looked up and met Lord Falmouth's eye, knowing what a burden she could become to them, how badly she could hurt their reputations. They would be well shot of her no matter if they still wished they could help. But she knew the earl would be honest with her. He was a kind man under that severe exterior, but he never varnished the truth. "Do you need me to leave this house, my Lord?"

  Céleste gave a cry of protest and she was more relieved that she cared to consider when she saw real shock in Lord Falmouth's eyes. "Good God, no!" he replied, looking genuinely aghast at the idea. "As if we would turn you out? Don't even think it."

  She let out a breath, closing her eyes and covering her mouth with her hand as the relief washed over her. Céleste clung to her hand and a moment later she opened her eyes to see Falmouth standing over her, pressing a glass into her free hand.

  "Brandy," he said, his voice soft. "It will make you feel better."

  She accepted the glass, aware of Céleste's hand still holding hers. It was a comfort, to know she wasn't alone in this. She had friends still, and if the worst happened, she could go back to her aunt and uncle and live quietly. An old maid. That thought had never sounded quite as bleak as it did at this moment.

  "Georgiana." She looked up again as the brandy began to heat a little puddle of warmth in her stomach. "I have dealt with the Baron for the time being," Falmouth said, something in his eyes that made her believe that the Baron might not have left the house in quite the same state he arrived in. "But a man like that won't be silenced forever. It may be that ... more severe measures are called for."

  She felt a shiver roll down her back and suddenly wondered what it was about the earl that made her believe he could be a truly dangerous man.

  "I need to you tell me immediately if he approaches you again, or contacts you in another way, by letter or via a third party. I will not let him hurt you, do you understand?" His voice was implacable and she could only nod her agreement.

  "I ..." she began, hearing her voice break. "I don't know how I can ever thank you ... for everything."

  "Nonsense," he said, brusk now and clearly uncomfortable with the possible threat of tears imminent. "And if that bastard Sindalton upsets you again you need only say the word. I'll bloody kill him!"

  "Alex!" Céleste exclaimed, glaring at him.

  "I'm sorry, Céleste. But after what he did to you ..." He paused and glanced at Georgiana and away again. "The man is not to be trusted, surely you can see that?"

  He stared at his wife, his usually stern face by now a mixture of regret and defiance as Georgiana felt her stomach clench. After what he'd done to Céleste? What else didn't she know?

  "If you'll excuse me." She looked up as he nodded to her and sent his wife an apologetic glance before leaving them alone.

  "Merde!" Céleste exclaimed with a huff of annoyance. "Just like a man, cause a scene and leave me to explain it. Typical!" She turned back to Georgiana and gave a crooked smile. "It really isn't as bad as it sounds, and ... and I truly think 'e was trying to 'elp me, you see? But Alex, 'e is still very angry."

  Georgiana finished the brandy and set the glass carefully down on the big oak desk.

  "So the man who I believed was the Marquis of Beaumont is in fact the Duke of Sindalton. He's lied to me about who he is. He very nearly seduced me and made me fall in love with him before leaving me alone. And then he nearly ruins me by making a scene at Almack's when he must know how precarious my position is. He is the son of the man who murdered my father and ruined my mother," she continued with her voice rising steadily as hysteria threatened to overtake her but her heart was breaking. "And now ..." she said, staring at Céleste with her eyes shining. "And now ... what?" she demanded. "Please just tell me and get it over with so that I can put him out of my head for good."

  "Oh, ma puce," Céleste cried, and in a flurry of silken skirts she sank to the floor at the side of Georgiana's chair and pulled her into an embrace. "I don't know why he did the things he did, Georgiana. But I don't think he was trying to ruin you at Almack's. Did you not see
the shock in his eyes? I think he was every bit as stunned as you were." She shook her head so that golden ringlets danced about her face. "I believe 'e is a good man, Georgiana. The truth is the duke was going to offer for me. Oh, don't look so appalled, 'e didn't love me, I promise you, nor did I care for 'im. The duke knew I was in love with Alex. But 'e also believed, as I did at the time, that Alex didn't care for me, that he would only ever make me his mistress, not a wife. I think Sindalton wanted to show me the kind of man Alex was, so he paid for one of Alex's old mistresses to come here late one night and cause a scene."

  Georgiana gasped, horrified by the idea he had almost destroyed one of the happiest marriages she'd ever encountered. Céleste smiled at her and shrugged.

  "I ran away because of it," she admitted. "Which I see is foolish now. One should never run away from a problem. You must face it. If I'd done that I could 'ave saved us both a lot of pain." She held Georgiana's hand to her cheek and smiled. "Alors, you see, that is why Alex hates the duke so much. But I truly believe that he was trying to protect me. You should talk to 'im, Georgiana. Find out the truth first. Oui? Before you make a decision based on things you believe ... when you 'ave no certainty."

  Georgiana let out a strangled laugh, totally bewildered by now. She didn't know what she was supposed to believe.

  "You must be certain," Céleste insisted, her blue eyes more serious that Georgiana had ever seen them. "People do foolish, cruel and stupid things sometimes, Chérie. But that does not make them monsters. It makes them human. If 'e made a mistake ... if 'e cares for you ... wouldn't you want to know that, Oui?"