Scandalous by Night

by Barbara Pierce

  The amorous young viscount had been worth the risk she had taken, and with Maura’s help, Georgette had been able to banish what she had perceived as a future threat. What she had glimpsed of the man Everod had become only confirmed her fears. Everod was a respectable adversary, one she could not simply discount.

  Georgette set her brush on the table and turned to address her husband. “Oh, Worrington, must you pace. I will not have you ill because of this business with Everod.”

  “By God, the blackguard is arrogant!” the earl thundered as he sipped his cordial. “Dancing with Maura … he was daring me to challenge him!”

  It was a situation that Georgette had imagined off and on over the years, but had dismissed because of the unpredictability of the outcome. She stood, and walked over to her husband. The poor man had worked himself into a terrible fit.

  “It was one dance. Are you planning to challenge every gentleman who requests a dance from our niece?” she teased, playfully pinching his chin. Earlier, she had also displayed her ire at Maura for that one dance. She had calmed slightly when the young lady had assured her that she had been merely preventing Everod from giving the ton a reason to laugh at the Worringtons’ narrow-minded prejudice. After all, Everod was not without influential friends.

  Georgette embraced the earl. Tilting the glass toward her, she sniffed the dark liquid and wrinkled her nose in distaste. As she had expected, he was sipping cordial. “What you need is one of my tonics, my lord. Your spirits always improve after a glass.”

  She stepped away and returned to her dressing table. Turning the key, she retrieved the small bottle within the drawer. While her sister had honed her intellect in the sciences, Georgette had focused her keen mind on the subject of plants. Over the years, she had perfected numerous recipes that had benefited her and those that she loved. At the moment, Worrington’s health took precedence above all others.

  The earl finished his cordial and held out his empty glass. “My spirits are not the only thing your tonics uplift when I imbibe them.”

  Georgette gave him a sly, intimate smile. “A benefit for me as well.”

  Maura sat on stone steps that led down into the Worringtons’ gardens. The moon was high overhead and there was a chill in the air that made the wool cloak around her shoulders welcome. There was plenty of light blazing within the town house.

  Upstairs, she could hear her aunt and uncle arguing. Although their words were unintelligible from where she sat, it was likely her name was being mentioned. After Lord Everod had curtly bowed and walked away from her, Rowan had icily informed her that the family was leaving Lord and Lady Fancutt’s ball.

  Her ears were still buzzing from her aunt’s high-pitched accusations.

  “Did you invite his attentions?”

  “No, Aunt Georgette.”

  “This will not do. Everod only seeks to humiliate us.”

  “Inviting me to dance is neither insulting nor reckless, Aunt. To reject him would only strengthen his resentment toward the family.”

  “I recall that as a child, you used to chase after young Everod with stars in your eyes, Maura. I pray you have not convinced yourself that Everod’s attentions toward you could be honorable.”

  “No, Aunt.”

  “Guard your heart, my girl. The viscount thinks only of his pleasures. He would not hesitate to pluck your innocence, and then boast to his friends how eagerly you tumbled!”

  The earl had been satisfied to allow his countess to speak on his behalf. Maura was fortunate that Rowan had arrived at the ball in his own coach. Otherwise, she would have been forced to endure his lectures as well.

  The library door quietly opened behind her. Maura twisted her body to address her uninvited companion. Rowan. He had followed them home, after all.

  “Good evening, my lord,” she said coldly. “If you have come to chastise me over my reckless behavior this evening, then you are too late. I have suffered Aunt Georgette’s displeasure for more than an hour, and I am in no mood for another lecture.”

  “Where is my father?”

  “Both Lord and Lady Worrington have retired for the evening,” she said, clasping her hands in her lap.

  The distant sound of glass being shattered disturbed the tranquility of the night. The earl’s gruff voice could be heard, followed by the slam of a door.

  “More or less,” she said with an indifferent shrug.

  A tidy man, Rowan was still dressed in his evening clothes. Removing his handkerchief from his coat, he shook it out and placed it on the hard stone next to her. “Poor, little Maura,” Rowan said sympathetically as he stiffly settled in beside her. He exhaled noisily. “Georgette can be quite ruthless when crossed.”

  Maura scowled at the shadowed gardens. “It was one dance in a crowded ballroom. Your father and my aunt are behaving as if I had been discovered disheveled in one of Lord Fancutt’s bedchambers with your brother.”

  “It would not be a first for my brother,” Rowan muttered under his breath.

  “Oh, what do you know of your brother’s life?” she demanded, unwilling to hear another slur against Everod. “You were thirteen when he left Worrington Hall. I highly doubt you have disobeyed your father’s dictates by visiting your elder brother, and getting to know the man he has become.”

  Maura could not prevent the disdain from creeping into her inflection. Rowan was a decent, honorable man. He had always treated her kindly. Nevertheless, Worrington’s second son believed he was born to rule over his inferiors, and there were occasions when his condescension made her teeth ache.

  “Is that what you are trying to do, Maura? Know my brother?”

  She jumped to her feet, and whirled around to face him. “Your remark was unbelievably rude, even for you, Mr. Lidsaw!” She never addressed him formally unless she was extremely vexed with him. Unfortunately, since her arrival in London, it took little effort on Rowan’s part to annoy her.

  Rowan hastily rose up, determined to calm her. “Maura, your aunt and my father are concerned. Georgette fears any old affection you may be harboring for my brother has blinded you to his faults.”

  She flinched as if Rowan had struck her. Were her tender feelings for Worrington’s heir twelve years earlier so obvious to everyone, including Everod? Oh, how they all must have laughed at her!

  “I think hate has blinded all of you,” she replied angrily. “Your brother has done nothing untoward except remind you all that he has survived without the benevolence of his family.”

  “I notice that you are careful to distance yourself from the family when you hurl accusations at us.” He grabbed her by the elbows when she did not respond. “Lest you forget, my lady, you took part in what transpired twelve years ago. It was your tearful accusations that sent my father out of the house in search of his traitorous son. It was you who clutched your aunt’s hand while you confirmed Georgette’s tale that she had been attacked by my brother in the garden. Is that really what happened, Maura? Did your young innocent eyes witness the painful violation of a man’s lust and domination over your beloved aunt?”

  No.

  Even now, she could not vocalize the depth of her betrayal to Lord Everod. How could she explain to anyone how she felt that day when she followed Everod into the gardens with her aunt? Crouched behind a flowering bush, she had watched with hurt and surprise as her aunt had exposed her breast, and then invited the fifteen-year-old Everod to taste. The young viscount had touched Georgette, and her aunt had not protested.

  Until later.

  Later, when Everod thrashed in his bed with a festering cut on his throat, and senseless with fever. In those dark hours, Georgette had summoned Maura to her bedchamber and begged her for her help.

  “Oh, my treasure, I do not know what to do. I have lost Worrington after this treachery,” Georgette sobbed.

  “Uncle will forgive you.”

  “No, Maura, he will not,” the older woman said, her tears seeping silently from the corners of her eyes. Georg
ette struggled for composure. “I realize now that you followed us into the gardens, Maura. I understand how it must have looked—”

  “You tugged on your bodice, and bared your breast,” Maura said accusingly, her own heart aching because Everod preferred her aunt. “You begged him to kiss you!”

  “Wrong! He threatened me,” Georgette yelled, so genuinely appalled that Maura wondered if she had misunderstood the situation. “Everod accused me of seducing one of the grooms. He promised not to tell Worrington, but I had to … oh, my dearest Maura, you have no notion of the evil a man can do to a lady. What you thought you saw, what I did, was not by choice. Everod had bribed the servant to testify against me. I only acted to protect my husband. My marriage.”

  Had she been wrong? Her aunt had cried out Everod’s name several times. Had Georgette been begging him to stop? Maura had been horrified by the violence committed to Everod. She had blamed herself and her aunt. Perhaps Everod had brought this tragedy upon himself. Unsure, Maura sat on the edge of her aunt’s bed.

  Georgette took her hand, and placed it on her stomach. “I have a secret. I can tell no one but you, my treasure. I fear Everod’s lust has taken root, Maura. A child may result from his violence.” Her aunt buried her face in Maura’s shoulder and sobbed. “I will lose my husband.”

  Maura hugged her aunt. Georgette’s entire body was quaking as her worst fears took hold. “Lord Worrington loves you. He would not blame you when the sin belongs to his son.”

  Her aunt froze in her embrace. “As long as the sin points to Everod, and not me,” Georgette whispered in Maura’s ear. She wet her dry lips. “You could help me, Maura. You were there with us. You could tell your uncle the truth.”

  “The truth?” she echoed faintly.

  Growing in confidence, Georgette pulled away and nodded eagerly. “You could protect me. Us. Protect my unborn child from Worrington’s wrath. You could tell everyone that you saw Everod attack me. The earl would believe you. You could convince him that there was nothing I could do to stop his son from hurting me.”

  Maura started, realizing Rowan still cradled her in his embrace. “Release me,” she said, not waiting for him to comply. She tugged away, and hugged herself.

  “Maura, come back here!” Rowan said, as he followed her down the steps.

  Blood protects blood.

  Georgette had said the phrase to her the day Everod was banished from his own house and family. Maura had tried to protect her aunt from Worrington’s anger. She had even believed her lies for a time. It was painless when no one mentioned Everod’s name. He had ceased to exist for the family.

  Five years later, the extent of Georgette’s deception surfaced during an unrelated conversation Maura had with her mother. With the incident involving Everod and her aunt forgotten, Maura had casually mentioned that it was a pity that Georgette and Lord Worrington were childless. Her aunt had always been generously attentive to her. Maura had told her mother that she believed Georgette would be a doting mother.

  Her mother paused in her stitching, and looked questioningly at her daughter. “I am pleased to hear that your aunt treats you well during our absence. However, my sister will never hold her own child in her arms.”

  Lady Courtwill had spoken so matter-of-factly that Maura had gaped at her. “How can you be so certain, Mama? You and Papa were married for many years before I was born.”

  Maura could see that her mother was uncomfortable with the subject. She quietly stitched for several minutes before her mother spoke again. “My sister is barren, Maura.”

  “No,” she said, her heart welling with pity for Georgette. Perhaps that was the reason her aunt insisted that Maura visit her each summer. For a few months, she could pretend that she had a child to love. “How could fate be so cruel?”

  Lady Courtwell stabbed her needle into her thumb. Setting aside her embroidery, she brought the tiny wound to her lips. “Fate did not make my sister barren, Maura,” she said, her voice laced with irritability. “Georgette was responsible. While married to Lord Perton, she learned that she was carrying another man’s child, and promptly took steps to rid herself of the babe.” The countess noted her daughter’s face and frowned. “Dear child, this was not the first time my sister denied herself the joy of being a mother. It was, however, her last. An infection set in, and when Georgette recovered, she understood that she would never carry another child in her womb again.”

  It was then her aunt’s tearful words whispered in her mind.

  “I have a secret. I can tell no one but you, my treasure. I fear Everod’s lust has taken root, Maura. A child may result from his violence.”

  If what her mother had revealed was true, then Georgette had lied to Maura. Her aunt had known there was no chance Everod or any man could have gotten her with child. She had used the possibility of a child to sway Maura, to coax her into believing that Georgette was protecting more than just herself with her lies. From that day onward, Maura had viewed what occurred between Everod and her aunt differently.

  Even so, nothing changed.

  There was no point in confronting her aunt. Everod was gone, his face and voice had faded in her memories. The damage wrought to the family could not be undone. Untangling one he would create new problems for her aunt and uncle. Maura did not want to bear the responsibility of ruining their marriage because of what her mother had told her.

  “Did you hear what I said, Maura?” Rowan demanded, bringing her back to the present, back to him.

  “What do you want from me, Rowan?” She backed away when he took a step forward. “I am not pretending that I am any less responsible for what happened to your brother the day I found him with Aunt Georgette. I just feel Lord Everod has paid a high price for something that is best forgotten. I refuse to punish him further.” Her guilt felt like ballast, a persistent companion, but Rowan was not the one who could absolve her from the lies she had told.

  Only Everod.

  However, he was a hardened man who had no forgiveness in his heart. Not for her, not for anyone.

  Maura saw a glint as Rowan’s teeth flashed as he smiled in relief. “Good.” At her bewildered expression, he continued, “What I meant to say is, I hope my brother’s notorious exploits have not soured you toward all the gentlemen in my family.”

  She suddenly was aware Rowan was less interested in discussing the past than she was. The gentleman wanted to discuss their future. Until this moment, she had carefully avoided being alone with him. The darkness could not conceal Rowan’s earnest determination to press his intentions.

  “It is late,” she said, praying his courage would wane and he would just leave.

  Understanding lit his shadowed gaze. “Of course. It has been a difficult evening.”

  “Thank you for understanding,” she said, strolling toward the stairs.

  Rowan politely grabbed her elbow and guided her up the steps. “And, Maura?”

  “Yes—mmm-umph!”

  Rowan crushed his mouth over hers. His kiss was so unexpected, all Maura could do was stand there. His mouth pushed at her lips, demanding a response. Regrettably, Maura’s experience with kisses was limited. She did not know how to properly respond.

  Rowan pulled away, and looked rather pleased with his efforts. “Pleasant dreams,” he said, his sly expression revealing that he hoped that she would be thinking of him.

  Flummoxed, Maura did not walk with him to the door. She raised her hand in a tentative wave of farewell, as Rowan entered the house. He would not bother Lord Worrington at this late hour. Maura expected he would go home.

  “Well, well … it appears Little Brother has declared himself,” Everod said, causing her to shriek a musical note so high it was practically inaudible. “Rather sloppily, I might add. You have drool on your chin.”

  Chapter Twelve

  “What are you doing here?”

  Unrushed, Everod retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to Maura. She would have to be very brave and
come to him if she wanted the neatly pressed linen.

  He grinned when she marched down the steps and snatched the handkerchief from his outstretched hand.

  She dabbed at her mouth and chin. Crushing the linen in her hand, she shook her finger at him. “How long have you—? Oooph … How dare you eavesdrop on a private conversation!” she said, indignant that he might have witnessed more than his brother kissing her.

  Maura had no clue how lovely she was with her eyes flashing like lightning warning of an approaching storm, her cheeks rosy, and the saucy bobble of her corkscrew curls as she cocked her head challengingly at him. He wanted to push back the heavy cloak that was concealing her neck and nibble.

  “Should I have revealed myself to Rowan?”

  At her horrified expression, he nodded. “I thought not. Besides, I was intrigued how Rowan planned to discourage you from seeing me when he plans to lure you into his bed.”

  “Your brother hopes to marry me!” she said, before she could ponder the wisdom of revealing Rowan’s aspirations to Everod.

  His gut lurched at her revelation. She had only confirmed what he had already suspected. “Marriage, you say. Someone has high ambitions. Is it you, Rowan, or your aunt?”

  Maura bit her lip, belatedly realizing she had confessed too much. So Georgette was determined to marry her niece to Rowan, was she? The greedy wench was single-minded when it came to getting her claws into all the Lidsaw men.

  “When will the banns be posted?” Everod purred with soft menace. He was angry at Georgette. His hatred of the countess would never burn itself out. However, he was also furious at Maura. Was she as ambitious as her aunt or simply blinded by her loyalty?

  He had overheard her words to Rowan. She had claimed that unlike the rest of his family, she no longer intended to punish Everod for his past sins. Everod hungered to test the young lady’s resolve.

  “N-nothing has been decided,” Maura stuttered as he closed in, forcing her to circle around and back into the shadows in order to keep a respectable distance.