Simply Scandalous

by Tamara Lejeune

  "That kiss nearly cost you your life. Your freedom, Geoffrey! "

  Swale frowned. "As I have said, I know I was well caught."

  "I expect Miss Wayborn was sorely tempted," Alex said thoughtfully. "Twenty thousand a year and a coronet? I believe Iwould marry you for twenty thousand a year!"

  "I don't think she was tempted for a moment," Swale admitted ruefully.

  A smile touched Alex's lips. "But, my dear Swale, did you not go there to make her fall in love with you? As I recall-"

  "Never mind what you recall!" Swale said quickly.

  "Can it be you failed to make yourself agreeable to her?" said Alex, laughing. "Did she not think you a matrimonial prize? Indeed, I am all astonishment!"

  "It was all I could do to convince her I didn't break her brother's arm," said Swale sullenly. "But I think I've managed that at least."

  "The first step is now gained," said Alex, enjoying his friend's discomfiture. "The way is open. Don't say you mean to give up the game entirely?"

  Swale summoned his dignity. "I decided it would be cruel for me to sport with the feelings of such a noble girl. "

  Alex arched a brow. "Then am I to infer that you remained in Hertfordshire for a week to allow the noble girl to trifle with yours?"

  "You are talking stupid," Swale informed him loftily. "After the business with the curricle and the farmhouse and the whisky, do you imagine that I was permitted to see the noble girl? I presented myself at the Vicarage every morning for a week in case there should be some task I might perform for her, but there was nothing Miss Wayborn required of me. Sir Benedict never allowed me to see her."

  Alex was astonished. "You mean you placed yourself at her disposal?"

  "Certainly," said Swale. "I was responsible for her injuries, and it seemed reasonable that since I could walk and she could not, I should help her if I could."

  "And she asked nothing of you?" Alex seemed skeptical.

  "She had Captain Cary at her disposal as well, you understand," Swale said, his resentment apparent. "She is engaged to Captain Cary, or so her brother informs me. I have not seen it announced anywhere. H-have you?"

  "I don't read the obituaries," Alex said blithely. "How grateful you must be to Captain Cary! Here I was thinking the lady unaccountably noble, but as she is already engaged, there could be no question of her marrying you."

  "She has this coat," Swale said bitterly, "a dark blue coat with wide lapels and gilt buttons. You see what that means, don't you? Picture it with gold braid and epaulets, aboard the deck of a ship. I believe she had that coat made especially to please him!"

  "That is a grave accusation indeed!" said Alex, trying not to laugh.

  Swale was scowling ferociously. "The thing is, Alex ... the thing is, I didn't mind being caught. I mean, I'm going to be caught one day. Why not by her?"

  "My dear Geoffrey," Alex murmured, chuckling.

  "What I minded was being turned loose as if I were too small a fish to be bothered with. I'm a big fish! A bloody big fish!"

  "A whale," said his loyal friend.

  "That she would spurn me in favor of a Captain Cary-! That is chiefly what I minded."

  Alex's response was forestalled by a sound from the hall.

  "What the devil!" Swale murmured. It sounded like the door opening and closing. In the next moment, Bowditch shuffled into the room, dragging a worn valise.

  The sight gave Swale no pleasure. 'Well, Bowditch, if you have come for your wages, you should know I have spent them on Madeira. It is cheap, but I find I require large quantities."

  "No, my lord," said Bowditch. "I have come to resume my duties. I have decided that I am not the marrying kind."

  "Not the marrying kind! " cried Swale. "After all you put me through? Not the marrying kind, eh? Well, you might have made the discovery sooner-before you eloped with the ghastly Fifi. Good God, man!" A sudden thought required him to sit up and set down his glass. "Don't tell me you've abandoned Miss Wayborn's Fifi somewhere along the road?"

  Bowditch assumed an injured expression. "No, my lord. Mademoiselle Huppert left me for a man she met on the stage."

  "The stagecoach, you mean?"

  "No, sir, the stage. Mr. David Rourke may currently be seen in Drury Lane in the part of Tony Lumpkin in Mr. Sheridan's excellent production of She Stoops to Conquer. "

  "What about Cary Wayborn's groom?" Swale demanded. "There was an understanding there, I believe, an attachment of long duration."

  Bowditch shook his head. "Mr. Corcoran has vowed never to marry until all three of his late master's children are married themselves. Mademoiselle Huppert became impatient. Not even Mr. Corcoran's fortune of ten thousand pounds could induce her to wait."

  Swale started in surprise. "What's a bloody groom doing with ten thousand pounds?"

  Bowditch cast his master a look of reproach. "His late master, Sir Anthony Wayborn, left him a handsome bequest in his will, my lord. Some masters do value their loyal servants, you know."

  "Do they?" Swale retorted. "You may as well know, Bowditch, that I intend to outlive you."

  "Yes, my lord," said Bowditch, withdrawing.

  "You don't mean you're letting him stay?" Alex cried in amazement.

  Swale looked at him in equal surprise. "This is his home, isn't it?"

  "It seems to me that half the business is his fault," said Alex. "If he hadn't run off with the damned Frenchy, you wouldn't have gotten yourself into this scrape."

  "I'm not in a scrape," Swale pointed out.

  "Only because Miss Wayborn is already engaged," Alex said. "You may wish to stay away from Hertfordshire-Miss Wayborn may decide she would rather be the wife of a Marquess than of a mere swaggering Naval officer!"

  "I have no intention whatsoever of returning to Hertfordshire," said Swale. "At the earliest opportunity, I intend to call on my Lord Redfylde."

  "That may be impossible," said Alex.

  "Why do you say so? His lordship evidently holds me in such high esteem that he would hazard ten thousand pounds on my skill. Surely, he will consent to meet me."

  "But his lordship is not in London," Alex told him. "Due to Lady Redfylde's frail health, he has taken a house in the country."

  "Then I shall meet him there," said Swale.

  "But my dear Geoffrey," Alex protested, "you can't shoot him merely for placing a wager on a race. In any case, you can't shoot him at all. Lady Redfylde is breeding, you know, and her health is poor."

  "Hang Lady Redfylde," said Swale.

  Alex sighed. "And you were so chivalrous with Miss Wayborn-it gave me hope. You cannot challenge Lord Redfylde. I would not second you if you did."

  "I would like to beat him until he admits what he did," said Swale.

  "You can't do that either."

  "What can I do?" Swale wanted to know.

  It was well for Juliet that she liked her apartment at Wayborn Hall, for it was only by going into it and closing the door that she could escape the society of her aunt Lady Elkins. How that lady had learned of her niece's tete-a-tete with Lord Swale at Brisby's Farm was never clear to Juliet, for Juliet was certain that Benedict had never spoken of it, but know of it she did, and in the two weeks that followed Juliet's arrival at her childhood home, the widow never ceased scolding her niece. Not even the presence of Miss Cynthia Cary, who had accompanied her cousin into Surrey, could stop her ladyship's tongue. On this subject, her energy was boundless and her voice so strident that it made Juliet long for the days when her aunt was too weak to lift her head from the pillow.

  Aunt Elinor's favorite venue was the small parlor where the ladies gathered for tea every afternoon.

  "I wish I were your guardian, Juliet. I would have made you marry Lord Swale! " A dreamy smile would smooth her aging face. "Lord and Lady Swale! Marchioness of Swale! You are a wicked girl indeed to be depriving me of the pleasure of being the aunt of a marchioness."

  Juliet always endured her aunt's displeasure in silence, but Cynthia usually
felt obliged to defend her cousin. "But, my lady," she protested, "if you knew Lord Swale, you would not for a moment consider such a thing. If you had seen him drink his soup from the bowl like a savage ..." Cynthia shuddered delicately. "He has a cruel, black temper, you know, ma'am, and besides, he insulted poor Juliet in so monstrous a fashion-"

  "Would you say it was an insult?" Lady Elkins retorted. "Twenty thousand a year for a mere baronet's daughter and a marquisate besides? Make sure of it, Juliet; if his lordship kissed you, it is because he secretly wished to marry you but was too shy to ask!"

  Juliet laughed heartily at this. The notion of Swale being shy was too absurd. As for his secretly wishing to marry her ... no, indeed. Swale's idea of a partner in life was Lady Serena.

  "Depend upon it, my dear," said Lady Elkins. "He must be wild in love with you."

  "Indeed, it would be a miracle if he did not hate me," said Juliet. "I blamed him for the attack on Cary, and I was wrong. I blamed his Bowditch, when all along it was my Fifi-wrong again! Then, was I to force him to marry me against his own expressed wishes?"

  "He is so awful in appearance," Cynthia said with a shudder. "Truly, Lady Elkins! A horrible giant with long red hair like a Viking marauder."

  Lady Elkins rounded on her angrily. "What do his looks signify, Miss Cary? He has twenty thousand a year! That is my idea of handsome!"

  "Oh, my dear aunt," Juliet murmured, chuckling.

  "Do you suppose that your uncle, Sir Thomas, was handsome? He was a respectable gentleman of large fortune. I considered myself very lucky to get him. He was forty-three years my senior and in very frail health, but he made me comfortable in life before he died. So comfortable, indeed, that I never considered marrying again. That is my idea of a good husband."

  Cynthia's eyes stood out like cornflower blossoms on stems. "But, Lady Elkins," she could not help exclaiming, "you would not want your niece to marry an ... an old man!"

  "That is my point exactly, miss," Lady Elkins snapped. "Lord Swale is not old. I consider your reasons for rejecting him very trivial, Miss Juliet! "

  "I did not reject him," said Juliet. "The marriage was proposed by other people, not ourselves. I would never use my honor as an excuse to make a man marry me. I am sure my uncle, Sir Thomas, was not forced to marry Miss Elinor Wayborn."

  "No, indeed," Lady Elkins sniffed. "He had a falling out with his nephew and decided to disoblige him by marrying me. He hoped to have a son and so dash the impertinent young man's hope of succeeding to his title, but that, of course, proved impossible, and the ungrateful nephew triumphed after all."

  Lady Elkins spoke matter-of-factly, as though there was nothing unseemly about a marriage entered into out of spite on the gentleman's side and greed on the lady's, but Cynthia was appalled. Juliet, who knew her aunt's history, still could not hear the facts without wincing.

  "The man I marry will have a better reason for marrying me," she said firmly. "And I shall have a better reason for marrying him. Swale never dishonored me. Why then, should he be forced to marry me? And if he had dishonored me, do you suppose there would be any force on earth that could compel me to accept him as my husband?"

  "Force!" cried Lady Elkins. "What do you mean? His lordship is not a child. He must know there are consequences to such reckless behavior as kissing Miss Wayborn in a public house. And you say he did not dishonor you! He would not dare resent you for insisting on a marriage."

  "You do not know him, Lady Elkins!" protested Cynthia. "I should be afraid for Juliet if she married him. He is so evil-tempered. If he felt himself illused, he would certainly take his revenge on my cousin. And the Aucklands are so rich and high, what could we do to stop him?"

  "I am not afraid of Swale," scoffed Juliet. "His temper is not at issue. Rather, I should never marry a man who does not at least wish to marry me! It is a little requirement of mine that must be satisfied before I will even consider whether or not Iwish to marry him. Swale doesn't love me, Aunt Elinor. He told me himself he is fixed on quite another lady."

  "For myself," Lady Elkins declared, "I consider myself married to any man seen kissing me in a public house! Let him try to escape!"

  In vain, Cynthia tried to stop her giggles by biting her knuckles. It was no use. The image of Lady Elkins being kissed by the pot-boy at a village inn was too much for her.

  Juliet began to laugh too. "Take care, my dear aunt! If this fact is made known to the general population, you will find yourself in constant danger of being kissed. Wealthy widows are always attractive to young men who have only their handsome faces to recommend them. How would you like a vigorous young man for a husband?"

  Lady Elkins gathered her dignity and threatened to quit the room.

  "I mean no disrespect, Aunt Elinor," Juliet said contritely, "but my views on marriage are nothing like yours. Let us avoid the subject. Tell me, what changes do you suppose Lord Redfylde will make to Silvercombe?"

  This was the one subject that could divert Lady Elkins from scolding her niece. Lord and Lady Redfylde had hired Silvercombe, the nearby country estate of Lord Skeldings, who had taken up permanent residence in Bath. My lord and lady were to remain in the neighborhood for the period of her ladyship's confinement. Lord Redfylde was not often under the roof, however, and it was well-known that, due to her condition, Lady Redfylde was not receiving visitors, so Lady Elkins was obliged to rely upon servants' gossip for all the Silvercombe news.

  Juliet had already quizzed Sir Benedict about Lord Redfylde's sudden appearance in the neighborhood, running to his study the moment she had heard that Redfylde had hired the house, demanding, "And what are you going to do about it?"

  Benedict had given her a measured look and dismissed his estate agent from the room. "What am I going to do about what?"

  "It, " she clarified. "Lord Redfylde. Are you going to call on him? Have you-have you already called on him?"

  "Certainly I have," Sir Benedict replied. "Some time ago, I recommended Lord Redfylde to Lord Skeldings. On my recommendation, he has taken the house."

  "Some time ago? Before the race, you mean? I did not know you were so well acquainted with Lord Redfylde. "

  "I am not," he told her. "But when I heard his lordship was seeking a place near London where his wife might be comfortable without being deprived too much of her husband's company, I spoke to him on Lord Skeldings's behalf. You know Bertram needs the money, and it is better for the neighborhood if Silvercombe does not stand empty all the time."

  "Redfylde! Better for the neighborhood?" Juliet scoffed.

  "Yes, Juliet. And better for our friend Lord Skeldings. At the time, I had no reason to question his lordship's character."

  "But you must have some plan to expose Lord Redfylde now that he is here," she said impatiently. "Have you questioned him yet? How does his lordship explain betting monstrous sums on Lord Swale?"

  Benedict held up his hand as he completed figuring a column of sums. "I am no magistrate, you know, to be questioning my neighbors."

  Disgusted by his unruffled calm, Juliet kicked the carpet with her toe. "I might have known you wouldn't think it proper! If I were a man, I'd walk right up to him and demand answers."

  "That would be the height of impropriety. It won't do, Juliet, to accuse a Peer of the Realm." He gave in to her curiosity reluctantly. "I called on him, and I can tell you, if Lord Redfylde was involved in the attack on our brother, he feels absolutely no remorse. He is quite the most disdainful man I ever met. He did not so much as inquire after Cary's health."

  "But what are you going to do?" she cried, stamping her foot in frustration.

  "The Bow Street Runners are at their inquiries in London," he told her. "Cary and Mr. Calverstock were able to give a good description of the attackers. If the miscreants are found, they can be made to give evidence. If they were hired and if they can identify Lord Redfylde as their employer, then his lordship may be questioned by the proper authorities. Does that satisfy you?"

  "No!" she re
sponded. "Let his lordship prove his innocence if he can."

  "My dear Juliet, he is innocent until proven otherwise."

  His sister did not appear to agree with this cornerstone of English jurisprudence. "I would like to hang him up by his thumbs until he talks!"

  "Have you learned nothing?" he rebuked her. "It was not so very long ago you accused Lord Swalefalsely as it turns out. Now you propose I cast suspicion over Lord Redfylde."

  "All the more reason to question him," she said. 'We must at least try to shift the blame to where it belongs. What if the Runners cannot find Gary's attackers? Cary will recover, I daresay, but Swale will always be under a cloud." She twisted her hands together in embarrassment. "You must do something, Benedict, because, you know, it was my fault. If I had not raced with him to Southend and accused him so publicly ... if I had gone to you instead ... you would have handled it quietly."

  "My dear," he said gently, "the Runners will find them. Do not concern yourself about Swale so muchunfortunately, there will always be a place in Society for the Duke of Auckland's heir."

  She went away far from comforted. More than ever, she felt herself to be in Swale's debt. During her recovery in Hertfordshire, he had come to the Vicarage every day to inquire after her progress. Despite Benedict's constant rebuffs, Swale came anyway every morning and every evening without fail. Certainly, he had no real wish to see her, and it must have been humiliating for him to be turned away day after day, but still he came. She would not have blamed him if he had left Herts and returned to London and Serena Calverstock. But he had remained until the very morning of her own departure.

  He would have married her, she knew, out of a sense of obligation because despite all his bluster and soup slurping, he really was an honorable man. As Lady Swale, she would have passed instantly from disgrace to the very highest circles of the Ton. But what a depressing way to catch a husband! And a husband who loved Serena Calverstock would be a poor prize indeed, whatever Lady Elkins said about it.