Scandal's Daughter

by Emma V. Leech

  He reached out a hand, the back of one finger touching her cheek for a bare moment.

  "I'll make you forget about him, darling, I promise I can do it."

  She smiled and shook her head. "And once you had taught me everything you know you would grow bored and leave me alone. Back to chasing your pretty light skirts, spending your nights with your Cythereans rather than your dull wife."

  His face clouded over, a frown in those gorgeous blue eyes. "Who says I would grow bored. I can't imagine it now."

  Georgiana couldn't help but laugh, he looked like a scolded boy who had been denied a treat. "That's because there is finally something you cannot have, and the more you cannot have it the more you want it."

  "I do want it," he returned, his voice fierce and such fire in his voice that she caught her breath. "I want you," he said, and she could see the truth of it in his eyes. "I'll do anything you want, Eve. Command me. Make me earn your hand if you will but don't refuse me."

  "Don't, Beau, please," she begged him. "Not now."

  He sighed and shook his head, allowing them to move on once again. "Very well, my sweet torment. Punish me if you must. But I'm not giving in."

  "I should hope not," she replied with an arch smile that made him laugh.

  "Vixen."

  They walked a little further until they came upon a crowd of people exclaiming and gathered around. There was something, no ... someone, on the floor.

  "Oh, the poor woman!" Georgiana exclaimed. For there was indeed a poor creature in the throes of some kind of fit, her thin limbs jerking and twitching as people watched and exclaimed with horror.

  "Get out of the way!" With no little surprise she watched as Beau scattered the crowd with fury flashing in his blue eyes. "Get away from her, you devils!" He reached down and swept the woman up as though she weighed nothing and Georgiana ran ahead of him, throwing open the door as he strode through, searching for a quiet place to set her down.

  "Here!" she called to him, opening a door onto a darkened library, lit only by one oil lamp.

  The woman's body was rigid with tension, her right arm twitching fiercely but Beau carefully set her down on a couch and knelt beside her. Georgiana watched, astounded as he undid the buttons on the high neck of her gown and then as he held her steady, to stop her tumbling off the side of the couch, and gently restraining the erratic movement of her arm. He spoke to her in a clear, calm voice, and began stroking her hair with his hand as the tremors began to die away.

  He let out a breath of relief and she noted how pale and drawn his face was with curiosity. He waited until she was still, her breath fast and shallow but steady. "She'll be alright now," he said, sounding a little shaken as he got to his feet. "But perhaps you should loosen her stays, make her more comfortable.

  "Yes, I think my uncle would say to do so," she admitted, looking up at him in wonder. "How ..." she began as Beau turned his back and she tried to make the woman more comfortable.

  "Someone I knew when I was a child," he said, his voice short. "He had similar seizures."

  It was clear he didn't wish to speak about it so she returned her attention to the woman. She was desperately thin, almost emaciated and even Georgiana found little trouble in moving the poor thing about like a limp rag doll. Her dress was worn and badly faded and Georgiana felt a jolt of pity, realising how very lucky she was.

  "I wonder what caused it," she asked quietly. "I remember one of uncle's patient's having something of the sort."

  "Stress or an upset used to trigger my ... my friend's attacks," he said, before adding. "Perhaps I should fetch some water?"

  "Yes," she replied and smiled up at him, wondering at his intervention. Not many men, as it had been seen, would have intervened in such a way. Madness was a terrifying thing, and any sign of something that approached it was to be shunned and reviled. Though her uncle was adamant that fits and madness were not one and the same thing and neither were they contagious, not everyone shared his view by any means. "Do you know her?" she asked, wondering if that was the reason he had acted so quickly.

  "No, though I have seen her around before now. I know of the man she came with by reputation though, and a bigger bastard you never did meet."

  "Oh," she replied, looking back at the sleeping figure with regret. "Perhaps we shouldn't inform him then.

  "No." He shook his head. "We'll stay with her until she wakes and then find a way to get her home."

  She smiled at him, suddenly struck that she'd underestimated him. She'd judged him as she'd raged against those who'd judged her in turn.

  "What?" he asked, obviously bewildered by the look in her eyes.

  "I was just thinking ... how very kind you are."

  He actually looked embarrassed for a moment before he gave a snort of derision. "Not kind," he replied, sounding almost gruff. "I just hate to see those carrion crows picking over the bones of people who can't defend themselves. It makes me sick." He strode to the door and muttered his intention of getting water for her.

  By the time he got back the woman was beginning to stir. She was very plain, her thin face all angles and her dark hair scraped severely from her head in an unbecoming style. A small pair of spectacles sat on her nose and Georgiana watched as Beau removed these and sat her up, supporting her with one strong arm behind her back.

  "Here," he said, his voice gentle. "Sip some water, it will make you feel better."

  The woman did as she was bid, though she was clearly disorientated and it took a moment before her eyes opened properly and she was able to focus.

  She blinked and Georgiana was startled by the widest pair of dark brown eyes she'd ever seen. They were too big in her gaunt face and they widened further as they focused on Beau.

  "Lord Beaumont!" she said, gasping, her face one of utter astonishment and appalled embarrassment.

  "Don't look so alarmed. Lady Dalton is here, it's quite alright. I'm afraid you had something of a turn. Is there anything we can do for you, Miss ..."

  "Sparrow," she said, her voice barely audible. "Millicent Sparrow."

  Georgiana thought she had never heard a more appropriate name for this little scrap of a woman. The poor thing shook her head and looked up at Beau as though he was some angel sent to save her. "You've already been so kind. I can never thank you enough."

  "Think nothing of it," he replied, his smile warm and reassuring. "Lady Dalton, would you be so good as to see Miss Sparrow safely home tonight?"

  "Oh yes!" Georgiana replied, smiling. "Of course I will."

  "How very kind you are," Miss Sparrow murmured, still gazing at Beau and Georgiana found she couldn't fault her for it.

  "Yes," Georgiana echoed, staring at Beau herself with new eyes. "Yes, he is, isn't he."

  Chapter 24

  "Wherein hot air causes mischief all around."

  "I can't think how you persuaded me into this," Beau remarked as they strolled in and out of picnicking families strewn about the grass in Hyde Park as they made their way towards The Ring. The grand circle of trees enclosed a large space where the fashionable came to see and be seen, to promenade and sometimes ride or show off a new sporting curricle or a tilbury, which was becoming quite the rage, and some flashy high steppers. Today however a crowd had assembled for the spectacle of a balloon ascension. The silky, blue and gold mound of fabric was billowing disconsolately in the warm spring breeze however, and showed no immediate signs of taking to the skies.

  Georgiana looked up at Beau with amusement. "Persuaded you? You wretch! You practically begged to escort me."

  He shrugged and pursed his lips. "Perhaps," he admitted. "But it's rather unkind of you to remember that fact." He sighed and looked down at his dusty boots with an expression of deep distress. "My valet won't speak to me for weeks you know."

  "Mortifying," she said, tutting and shaking her head sadly as he narrowed his eyes at her.

  "You can mock, sweet Eve. But it will be entirely your fault if he sends me out with my cravat
askew and last season's coat on my back I assure you." He looked pained at the amusement in her expression. "My reputation may never recover," he complained with a sad shake of his head.

  "How terribly shocking," she murmured, trying not to chuckle and failing. He grinned at her, pleased as ever to have made her laugh. "Oh, come on then," she replied, taking pity on him. "Let's go to the Cake House and get an ice. It's really very hot and dusty isn't it."

  Agreeing with obvious pleasure he escorted her to a charming little white painted house with a multitude of beams, pretty latticed windows and a gabled roof. It was an idyllic picture and a surprisingly Arcadian setting in the heart of the capital. Wild flowers and oleander bushes grew in profusion and a little stream ran directly in front of the entrance door. A rickety plank forming a rustic bridge had to be traversed to gain entrance to the building. Beau went first and reached his hand out to help Georgiana across.

  Smirking at him Georgiana refused his hand and immediately regretted it as the plank tilted a little to the left and her heel slipped a on the dry timber. With a squeal she righted herself and scurried forward to be hauled against Beau before her balance deserted her for a second time. She gasped and looked up, only too aware of the hard male body pressed flush against hers. For a moment his hold on her tightened and she could feel the heat of him through the fine sarsnet of her gown. Looking up she found his blue eyes full of desire and knew without a doubt that he was desperate to kiss her.

  She wondered what it would be like, to be kissed by him. Could he really make her forget Sebastian?

  He released his hold on her before anyone could see but there was reluctance in his eyes.

  "Careful, Eve," he whispered in her ear. "I have only so much self control, my sweet temptress."

  She huffed at him and raised an eyebrow. "Well it isn't as if I lost my balance on purpose is it?" she muttered, smoothing out the line of her pale blue walking dress. He reached out, on the premise of picking an imaginary piece of lint from her darker blue velvet spencer but instead wound the red curl he found so tempting around his finger and gave a little tug. She looked up, startled by his boldness. Although he spoke far too freely with her, he never overstepped the bounds of propriety. In fact he seemed to be on his best behaviour in that respect, as aware as she of the eyes on them. There was a fierce look in his eyes now though, as he tugged the little ringlet again and raised it to his lips.

  "I won't be denied, Eve," he said. "You cannot keep me on a leash forever with that tempting red apple so close to my jaws. I'm not the spoilt little lap dog you'd like me to be, no matter that's how you treat me."

  "I do not!" she replied, indignation staining her cheeks.

  He snorted and she couldn't read the expression on his face but she wondered if she'd hurt him somehow. "You think I don't see how you watch him? Waiting to see how jealous he is when he sees us together?"

  "I ..." She stopped before she began her rejection of his accusation, too aware of the truth of it. Had she really just been using him all this time? She stared back at him, stricken and unable to form a reply. For she did care for him, very much, and he would be dreadfully easy to fall in love with ... if her heart hadn't already been taken.

  "I'm sorry, Beau, I ..."

  He dropped the curl and waved his hand looking annoyed. "Don't you dare feel sorry for me," he snapped and she was a little taken aback by the anger in his eyes. "I give you fair warning, my lovely siren, I won't play nicely any longer. Do you understand?"

  She nodded, disquieted by the look in his eyes.

  "No," he murmured. "I don't think you do. But you will." He offered her his arm and they walked into the little shop. "Come now," he said, smiling at her again, his fit of temper apparently passed. "Let's cool ourselves off with an ice, and then I'll take you out in one of the boats. How does that sound?"

  "Lovely," she replied, smiling back at him, relieved that he seemed to have got over whatever fit of jealousy had struck at him

  By the time they found their way to the edge of the Serpentine and rejoined Céleste and a group of her friends, the afternoon sun was growing really rather warm. The countess waved at them and they wandered over to meet her.

  "Do you want anything to eat, there is so much food!" she complained with a grimace. "I am so full it's disgusting and nobody else has eaten a morsel!"

  Georgiana shook her head, too consumed by the sight of the tall, dark figure making his way towards her. To her everlasting gratitude Céleste took Beau's arm, insisting that he must help her do justice to the extravagant feast that had been provided. If Beau realised he was being manipulated he was too polite to protest. He went as bid, to sit beside Céleste and her lady friends who welcomed him with beaming smiles and fluttering eyelashes.

  Georgiana turned her back on the advancing figure and went to stand by the edge of the river where the air was a little cooler. There were several little jetties where the pleasure boats were tied up and after lunch they would be busy with people buying tickets and going out onto the water. But for the moment it was quiet as she stepped onto one boarded walkway and the only sounds were the gentle hum of conversation at her back and the quack of a hopeful duck paddling around in search of a generous benefactress.

  "Good afternoon, Lady Dalton."

  She turned without surprise, having had time to prepare herself on this occasion. She met those dark eyes with a placid expression, curtsying to the large presence who had provided some much needed shade by blocking out the sun.

  "Your grace." She looked at him, silent, refusing to help him navigate the tension between them as he stared at her.

  "Georgiana," he whispered, the longing behind her name quite taking her breath away. "Please don't keep punishing me, love. I'll run mad if you won't talk to me ... give me a chance to explain."

  She stared at him, wondering if she could put any value on those words, on the desperation in his eyes.

  "Please, my own dear love. Nothing has changed, can't you see that?"

  Her heart felt as though it was falling from a great height, a rush of exhilaration and fear so profound she could hardly breathe. She had so longed to hear those words, but how could she place any trust in anything he said?

  "You still have my heart," he pressed, taking a step closer. "Don't you ever wear the little gold one I gave you?"

  She was torn between giving him a sharp no which he thoroughly deserved, and telling him the truth, that she slept in it and returned it to her jewellery box every morning.

  "How can I?" she replied, after a pause that seemed measured out in her own heartbeats. "When I don't know who gave it to me."

  "And I never knew you were Lady Dalton!" he threw back at her, dark eyes blazing. "I thought you were sweet Georgiana Bomford, the lovely, innocent girl I lost my heart to!"

  She took a breath, startled by the fury in his voice and unsettled by the realisation that he was right.

  "That's because I didn't know myself!" she said, flushing with anger. "I was Miss Bomford, the doctor's daughter. I have been all my life, until my uncle arrived on my doorstep after you had left me alone and told me the truth. He told me I was an heiress and he called my mother a whore and said I was just like her."

  He stared at her, appalled shock in his eyes at her revelation.

  "I never lied," she said, biting out the words and holding his gaze so he was forced to see the truth in her words. "You did, your Grace."

  He was silent for a moment, clearly at a loss. "Let me explain then," he replied, his voice low and urgent and obviously frustrated.

  "Very well, explain," she replied, daring him to tell her everything.

  He looked around the crowded park, and she became aware of the eyes watching them conversing, whispering about how the Duke of Sindalton of all people, had searched her out alone. "Not here," he replied. "I'll meet you somewhere, anywhere you choose. I could come to the house?"

  She knew he did have a point about them being watched and moved carefully arou
nd him, back to where the jetty met the land. She had to laugh at the idea of him coming to the earl's home to visit her though. "Good God, Falmouth would kill you if you set foot on the doorstep after what you did to destroy his relationship with Céleste."

  His face darkened and she knew she'd hit home. Yes, Sebastian I know more of your dark little secrets, she thought and then wondered how many others there were that she didn't know.

  "So I'm guilty of all charges I see," he replied, and she could see the cost to his pride to keep pursuing her when he met nothing but rejection after rejection.

  "Perhaps not," she replied, relenting a little. "But I have no reason to trust you and meeting you is something I cannot contemplate after the way your father has already ruined my name."

  He stiffened at that, fury in his eyes. "My father was the best of men," he said, his voice harsh and implacable, his bearing suddenly showing every single generation of pride and power that came with his many titles. "He was led into vice and until very recently I've never been able to understand how a woman could ruin such a good and honourable man. But now I do see."

  She gasped, appalled by his words and more hurt that she would have believed possible. That he of all people should use that against her. She took a step back, her eyes filling with tears.

  "Then I suggest you get as far away from me as possible, your Grace," she replied, her words sharp with the pain of disappointment. "Before I cause you any further embarrassment." She turned and found Beau right behind her. He took one look at her tear filled eyes and drew her hand into the crook of his arm, turning to stare at the duke with fury.

  "Stay away from her," he replied, his voice cold. "God help me if you hurt her again, I'll make you pay for it."

  "You're the one hurting her, Beau," Sebastian snapped in return. "You're the one damaging her chances of making a better match but you don't care about that do you? For the fewer on the field the more chance that she'll marry you and you'll get your grasping hands on her money."

  Beau clenched his fists and went to take a step forward but Georgiana grabbed hold of his arm. "No, please, Beau," she begged him. "Please don't make a scene." With obvious reluctance, Beau took a step back, but the two men were still glaring at each other, the atmosphere so fraught Georgiana hardly dared breathe. "You promised to take me out in a boat remember."