A Common Scandal

by Amanda Weaver

  “Keep your voice down.”

  “Of course. Wouldn’t want her to hear, would we?” Morley lifted his chin in Amelia’s direction as he caught sight of her. Cheadle spun around, face white with horror.

  “Miss Wheeler! I was about to seek you out. I was sorry to miss the walk this morning, depriving myself of your delightful companionship.”

  “The walk was merely long and hot. Although being away from the house, I didn’t get the chance to speak with your friend. The introductions at dinner were so rushed.”

  Mr. Morley gave her a smile that could only be described as calculating and greedy and Amelia regretted feeling even a flicker of sympathy for the man. His teeth, the front one chipped, peeked from under a thick, badly groomed moustache as his eyes dropped down her body and back up.

  “Why, that is a shame, isn’t it? Happy to meet you, Miss Wheeler.”

  “Likewise, Mr. Morley.”

  Morley extended a hand to her and with some reluctance, Amelia set her fingers against his.

  “I’ve heard a lot about you from Cheadle, here.” Morley murmured before pressing his lips to her knuckles, too hard and too long. She fought the impulse to rip her hand away. That would teach her to be nice to strangers.

  “Mr. Morley was about to excuse himself, weren’t you, Morley?”

  Amelia started at Cheadle’s blatant attempt to chase Mr. Morley off, but curiously, Morley didn’t take offense. He smiled at Cheadle, a slick grin utterly without friendliness. “Not at all. At least, not now when such a lovely lass has joined us.”

  Cheadle glared at Morley, who merely grinned back. For someone who’d come all the way to Kent to see his friend, Mr. Morley didn’t seem at all fond of Cheadle. Mr. Cheadle clearly didn’t care for Morley. And who was the “she” in London who they both seemed to know? Mr. Cheadle seemed to have a number of unsavory connections.

  Cheadle scowled, but made an effort to shake off his anger as he addressed her once more. “I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy your walk this morning.”

  “It wasn’t all bad. Lord Radwill was very good company.”

  Cheadle scowled. “Was he?”

  “Yes, he’s such a kind man, don’t you think?” She was lingering on Radwill perhaps a bit too long, but it couldn’t hurt to send Cheadle a message.

  “Radwill’s a sop,” Morley said. “You need a man with a bit of fire in his veins, Miss Wheeler, like Cheadle here.”

  “Morley!” Cheadle exclaimed, but Morley ignored him.

  “A spirited young piece like you needs a man who can tame her fire.”

  Amelia had grown up on the docks in Portsmouth and was no stranger to rough speech or lewd innuendo. But she was unprepared to encounter it at a house party at an earl’s estate. All the usual witty retorts and sharp set-downs she might have deployed failed her as she stared at Morley in shock.

  “I...”

  “Miss Wheeler,” Cheadle interjected frantically. “It’s quite warm in here. Perhaps you’d care for a stroll in the garden? Several of the others have already gone out.”

  She was on the edge of refusing and retreating to the safety of Radwill’s side again, but then she glanced across the room and saw Nate ushering Julia through the French doors leading to the gardens. He was smiling down at her, his hand touching her waist as she walked out ahead of him. This evening simply could not get worse.

  Something crazed and panicked rose up in her. Yes, Nate couldn’t be hers and no doubt he’d offer for Julia and she’d spend her life as his wife. Everything was leading there. But not yet! He couldn’t irrevocably tie himself to her yet. With nothing more in her head than a need to be where Nate was before he was out of her life again, and this time for good, she laid her hand on Cheadle’s outstretched arm. Even Cheadle’s company was preferable to Morley’s and at least she’d be outside where Nate was taking Julia.

  “That would be quite refreshing, Mr. Cheadle. Thank you.”

  * * *

  Julia Harrow was a conundrum.

  None of this was going how he’d expected. Oh, she seemed to like him well enough, in her way. She was quite interested in his life and concerns, which had to count for something. She asked endless questions about ships and imports and his business in particular. He’d never spoken to a young lady at such length about business, which was pleasant, since he’d much rather discuss shipping than gossip about London Society. She didn’t stir the slightest carnal interest in him, but he liked her. Many marriages were founded on far less.

  The odd thing was, for all her conversational encouragement, she never once seemed to be flirting with him. He kept waiting for the coy look, the accidental brush of her hand against his, some indication the young lady would welcome a more intimate kind of conversation, but it never came. When he ventured to flirt himself, she steadfastly failed to acknowledge it, not even to rebuff his forwardness. She simply didn’t notice. The girl was a puzzle and he had no idea where he stood with her.

  In an attempt to push things to some sort of head, he’d suggested that they take a turn in the garden. It was a bit forward, but Evelyn had already escaped outside with Tony, and Kitty followed shortly after with Will so it wasn’t as if they were entirely alone. Even now, as they strolled down a dim pathway bordered by box hedges, he could hear Evelyn’s loud laugh ringing out from no more than twenty feet away. Any sense of seclusion was an illusion.

  Still, if it helped drive his point home with Julia, it could only be a good thing. She wasn’t picking up any other hints he dropped.

  “Tell me again, Mr. Smythe, how you came to choose the Fair Maid for your lucrative run to Cádiz?”

  Nate’s eyebrows shot up in surprise that she remembered not only the name of one of his ships but that he’d made his most profitable run as a captain on the ship. The girl had an astonishing ability to recall obscure details of conversation. He wasn’t sure why she cared, but he nonetheless launched into an explanation of his choice.

  “Yes, it might seem an odd choice, as the Fair Maid is a full third larger than most of the other ships docked in Cádiz, but I had spent time in Cádiz before and I knew there were often smaller shipments needing cargo space if one was willing to take the gamble. I chose to risk making the run with ballast to make up the difference, wagering I’d be able to fill it on the return.”

  “And did you?”

  “I did. Once in Cádiz, I spent a bit of time socializing with some local merchants. One was an olive merchant looking to send some goods to London. We settled the arrangements over dinner in a quayside restaurant over a few bottles of the local wine.”

  “How delightful!”

  Nate perked up at her apparent interest in Spain. He’d loved the country, and loved the lengthy, casual dinners he’d shared with the businessmen he’d met. Plates full of seafood fresh from the ocean and plentiful conversation, all washed down with bottles of cheap wine. It was a far cry from stuffy dinners in London, and much more enjoyable.

  “Do you have an interest in Spain?”

  She shook her head. “Travel doesn’t suit me. But it was quite bold of you to reserve the extra space in your holds, counting on your ability to fill it once you were there.”

  “Oh. Yes, well, I’m fairly good at thinking on my feet and working things out as I go along. I’ve made somewhat of a career of it.”

  “That’s abundantly clear, Mr. Smythe,” Julia said. “If I may, it’s your best asset.”

  Nate blinked. His best asset? Not his rugged good looks? Not his charm? Not his impressive height? Many a woman had exclaimed over any or all of those features, but not once had a woman been enamored of his problem-solving abilities. Julia Harrow was unmoved by all these things, but his ability to land on his feet and conjure a deal out of thin air... that’s what impressed her?

  At least she approved of him, in h
er peculiar way. It had definitely been a compliment. And they were alone, in the dark, in this garden. This was the moment to press his suit, if he was going to do it. And now, when he stood on the precipice of getting what he wanted, he found his will flagging.

  He cast a sideways glance at Julia. Her profile was outlined in the soft glow of light from the house, her golden hair picked out in the silver moonlight. Such a dichotomy, looking like a fragile young girl in this light, though he knew her to be twenty-four and hiding a sharp mind behind that sweet face.

  He could declare himself and have her secured as his fiancée by morning. Something cold turned over in his chest at the thought. What was wrong with him? When he sat in a seaside cafe in Cádiz across from a seasoned Spanish businessman, he’d had no problem launching into business negotiations. And now he stood quaking in fear before this girl.

  This was nonsense. Securing Julia Harrow’s affections were all that stood between him and an alliance with her father. It was time to make a move.

  “Lady Julia....” He stopped and swallowed thickly. “Julia...”

  “Yes?”

  “It’s been a great pleasure getting to know you this week.”

  “Yes it has. You’re everything I’d hoped you’d be.”

  “I am?”

  Julia nodded. “Very much so.”

  “Well.” Nate took a deep breath. “That’s good. You’re... You’ve been quite a surprise to me, but a pleasant one.”

  “I’m a surprise to most people once they get to know me,” Julia said. “But I think we understand each other very well, don’t we, Mr. Smythe?”

  Did they? Did he have an understanding with Julia Harrow? He must, mustn’t he? She thought they did. They had an understanding and from there it was just a short step to an engagement. He only had to speak the words.

  “I...”

  As they rounded a corner in the garden, the French doors leading to the drawing room came into view. Amelia emerged on the arm of Mr. Cheadle. What in blazes possessed her to come out here with that louse? He didn’t trust Cheadle as far as he could throw him, especially not alone with Amelia, considering his previous blatant attempts to accost her.

  He quickly steered Julia to the left, around a cluster of rose bushes, as Amelia and Cheadle descended the stairs and headed out into the garden.

  “It’s getting rather late, don’t you think?” he spat out.

  “Yes, it is,” Julia agreed with some relief. “These late nights are a bit unusual for me. I think I’ll go up to my room now.”

  Considering they’d been on the verge of declaring themselves, Julia seemed quite content to leave him, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it. Cheadle was dragging Amelia out into the gardens at this very moment. Nate led Julia up the steps to the French doors and bid her a brief farewell as she disappeared back into the drawing room. When he turned back to the garden, Amelia and Cheadle were nowhere to be seen. Anxiety flared in his gut. He wouldn’t put it past Cheadle to compromise Amelia in some way in an attempt to force her hand. And while the girl might be determined to wed a title, it would be Cheadle over his dead body. Even that wet dishrag Radwill was preferable.

  He started down the central path into the garden, listening to any rustle or whisper. He turned to the left when he heard a hushed feminine giggle. The path immediately narrowed and grew dark. He was perhaps twenty-five yards from the house, but he might as well be alone in the middle of the Downs, as secluded as this corner was. A few steps farther and he heard a masculine voice softly shushing the woman. His pulse pounded in his ears. If he found Cheadle laying his hands on Amelia, so help him, he couldn’t answer for what he’d do to him. His face was heating with rage and his hands were clenched into fists as he rounded the hedge and spotted two figures pressed close on a bench in the tiny clearing.

  “Oh!” The minute the woman spotted him and cried out, shooting to her feet, he knew it wasn’t Amelia. “Mr. Smythe, you startled us! Me! You startled me,” Kitty Ponsoy stammered, waving her hands in front of her face.

  The gentleman at her side rose to his feet and cleared his throat. “Taking a turn in the garden, Smythe?” Will Thistlethwaite, not Cheadle.

  “Something like that. Kitty, Evelyn was looking for you a moment ago,” Nate lied easily.

  “Oh dear. I should go find her then. If you’ll excuse me.”

  She hurried away in a flurry of rustling silk taffeta. Nate eyed Will.

  “I say, Smythe,” Will said with a smirk. “Let’s keep this between blokes, eh? If word of our little assignation gets round to Lord Watting, he’ll be dragging me in front of a vicar before I can blink and I can’t have that, can I?”

  “I suppose not, especially if it was only a bit of flirting,” Nate said, implying a question with the statement, and perhaps a bit of judgment, too. “No harm was done, correct?”

  Will scowled slightly. “Right. No harm. Cigar?”

  Nate waved him off. “No, thank you. I need to be off.”

  “In search of Lady Julia?”

  “Lady Julia. Exactly.”

  “Best of luck.”

  Nate grimaced at his crudeness. Ever since his fortune had elevated him, he was continually astounded by displays of ungentlemanly behavior and bad manners from men who were supposed to be far above him. He backed out of the leafy alcove and headed into the darker recesses of the garden to find Amelia.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Miss Wheeler, perhaps we could sit.”

  “Did you see any of the others out here?” Amelia twisted her hands together and looked back and forth along the darkened garden path. Mr. Cheadle reached for her elbow to guide her to a bench but she slipped past him.

  “There’s no one else here. Please, sit. This bench is quite nice.”

  She might be distracted trying to locate Nate in the darkness but she wasn’t so far gone as to sit on a bench in a secluded alcove with Cheadle. He must think her a simpleton.

  “I’m quite restless this evening. Perhaps we’d better walk.”

  Without waiting for Cheadle’s reply, which was surely a protest, she set off at a clip down the path deeper into the garden.

  “Miss Wheeler, I assure you—”

  “Hush. Do you hear voices?”

  “I hear nothing.”

  “There it is again. Someone is whispering.”

  “Miss Wheeler—”

  But Amelia hurried toward the voices before Cheadle could stop her. Now the voices were quite distinct. Whomever it was thought they were whispering, but they were doing a very poor job of it. There was a great deal of shushing, giggling and rustling of clothes. A vision of Nate pulling Julia into his arms rose up in her mind. Nate holding Julia’s waist, Nate lowering his head and pressing his lips to hers, Julia surrendering herself to him...

  No. Not yet. Not at this house party where she’d be forced to see it all every day. When they’d left and she was back in London, away from him, he could press his suit with Julia. Then it would be a mere line in the Society pages of the paper. “Lady Julia Harrow to wed Mr. Smythe of Portsmouth.” She’d be able to retreat to her room and react as she wished. If they announced their engagement at this house party, she’d be forced to smile and wish them well. No doubt she’d be pulled into the gossiping circle of young ladies to debate dresses and flower arrangements and wedding breakfasts. What a horror. Despite what had passed between them, Nate was not destined for her. She knew it. But she wasn’t ready to see him tie his future to another woman, not right in front of her eyes.

  She pursued the voices around two more turns in the path, certain at any moment she’d burst upon Nate and Julia locked in an embrace. Her heart pounded and her ears roared. Please, not yet, she begged to the sky. From up ahead, just around the corner, came another feminine gasp, one slightly breathy with
pleasure. It was a sound she herself had recently made in Nate’s arms. She felt sick and still she couldn’t stop. Maybe she should see it with her own eyes. If she saw Nate with Julia, maybe her own mad obsession with him would end. Either way, she would find them.

  Bursting around the corner, she indeed found a couple in a passionate embrace. In the dim light, she registered a bare leg and a male hand on an exposed breast before both parties gasped and fell back. It was clear at once. Evelyn and Tony Batchelder. Evelyn leaped to her feet, which allowed her skirts to fall back in place, while she attempted to pull up her bodice. Tony cleared his throat and smirked. Good Lord, he was buttoning up his fly. Amelia dropped her eyes to the pavement, cheeks scalding with embarrassment.

  “Well, this is damned awkward,” he drawled.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” Amelia muttered, stumbling back. Evelyn looked hopelessly flustered but in a moment, she regained her equilibrium.

  “Mr. Batchelder, what do you mean taking such liberties with me?” she cried in false outrage.

  “I only take what’s freely offered, Evie.”

  “Oh!” she cried, then turned and shoved past Amelia, storming back toward the house.

  Tony took his time getting to his feet. “Do you have an assignation scheduled, Miss Wheeler? Shall I leave you the bench? It’s a bit chilly out here but it’ll get the job done. Worked for Evie, anyway.”

  Amelia grimaced. “No, thank you. I’m going back in.”

  “Suit yourself.” He fished a silver cigarette case out of his jacket pocket. “Do you mind? Or would you like one yourself? You look like a girl who likes to break rules, eh, Amelia?”

  She raised her chin, as imperious as a queen. “You don’t know me well enough to make such an observation, Mr. Batchelder. Good night.”

  Picking up her skirts, she fled down the path toward the house. She turned aside, however, before she reached the terrace. She couldn’t go back in yet, not to flirt with Radwill and dodge Cheadle. And since Nate and Julia weren’t to be found in the garden, they were probably back in the parlor. She couldn’t face any more of them tonight, either.