Scandalous Deception

by Rosemary Rogers

  “Is this supposed to be some sort of jest?”

  Edmond folded his arms over his chest, his features ruthless in the late afternoon light.

  “Do I seem the sort to jest?”

  “No, but I was attempting to be kind.”

  “Kind?” he demanded.

  She waved the paper she held clutched in her hand. “Well, there are only two reasons for you to announce Stefan’s engagement to me.” She could barely even force the shocking words past her stiff lips. “Either this is some horrid joke, or proof that you are stark raving mad.”

  “Not Stefan’s engagement,” he snapped. “The announcement is for the current Duke of Huntley, which happens to be me.”

  Brianna grimly ignored the strange jolt that raced through her at the savage claim. “Now I know you are mad.”

  With a visible effort, Edmond eased the tension gripping his large body, a mocking smile touching his lips.

  “I am not at all certain that I would argue with you.”

  “This is ridiculous.” Rising to her feet, Brianna tossed aside the announcement and glared at the gentleman who was swiftly becoming the bane of her existence. At least Thomas Wade was a predictable, if extremely loathsome companion. Edmond was making her head swim in confusion. “Why would you announce our engagement?”

  “Because it suits my purpose.”

  “And that is your explanation? Because it suits your purpose?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, it doesn’t happen to suit mine.”

  “It should.”

  “Why? Because you believe that every woman is desperate to be your wife?”

  “Most of them are.”

  He leaned against the shelves, his linen shirt thin enough to reveal the sculpted muscles beneath, and his dark breeches molded to the hard thrust of his legs. He looked like an elegant predatory animal who had discovered his prey and was merely biding his time before pouncing.

  The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

  “Conceited toad,” she muttered, refusing to reveal her flare of unease. “I would not have you as a husband if—”

  “Fortunate, because hell will freeze over before I ever become any woman’s husband,” he interrupted icily. “This is no more than a temporary inconvenience that I intend to be done with as swiftly as possible.”

  She stiffened. Well, that certainly put her in her place. She was good enough to use in his disreputable schemes, but nowhere near good enough to wed.

  Why the knowledge should trouble her was a mystery.

  “Then why do you claim that this engagement should suit me?” she demanded in a stiff voice.

  “This is the only means to ensure that, when you at last leave this house, your reputation will not be shredded beyond repair.”

  So he was doing this all for her? Not bloody likely.

  “There is no need to go to such lengths. You could send me to Meadowland—”

  “No.”

  She frowned in irritation at his sharp interruption. Why the devil would he not send her to Meadowland? It could only be that Stefan was involved in the secretive plots swirling about Edmond.

  “Then hire a female companion.”

  Edmond shrugged. “I intend to invite my aunt to visit during your stay. Even as my fiancée, you cannot remain here without a woman to act as guardian.”

  “Your aunt?” Brianna blinked in shock. It was well-known that Edmond held the majority of his family in disdain. Only Stefan seemed immune to his universal dislike. “Good lord. I cannot believe you are going to this effort simply to keep my reputation untarnished.”

  “I do it more for Stefan’s reputation,” he corrected smoothly. “He would not be pleased to be considered the sort of nobleman who would seduce his own ward beneath his roof.”

  “That is because he is a gentleman. Something you would know nothing about.”

  The blue eyes narrowed. “Careful, ma souris. Annoy me enough, and I will simply keep you locked in your chambers until I am finished with my business in London.”

  She wisely ignored his threat. If he decided to lock her away, there was very little she could do to halt him.

  “Did you consider the fact that, once this engagement comes to an end, I will still be ruined?” She held up a hand as his lips parted. “While I am quite willing to trade my reputation to be rid of Thomas Wade, a male might be capable of shrugging off a broken engagement, but a female is not so fortunate. There will be endless gossip and speculation as to why Stefan cried off.”

  A sardonic smile touched his lips. “Perhaps if you were jilted by most gentlemen, but a woman capable of attracting the attentions of the elusive Duke of Huntley, even for a brief time, is bound to be one of the most sought after young maidens in all of London. No doubt, when this is all said and done, you will be able to land a dull, spineless gentleman who will occasionally remember to crawl into your bed to give you a pack of squawking brats.”

  It was his mocking scorn that made her chin tilt. The jackass! What choice did most women have but to claim a destiny that included marriage and children? It was not as if they were blessed with the same opportunities as the wealthy son of a duke.

  Thankfully, she would be spared such a horrid fate.

  “There will be no man crawling into my bed for any reason,” she charged.

  “One already has.” The blue eyes abruptly darkened with a near tangible hunger as his gaze ran a slow, thorough path over her slender body. “Or have you already forgotten our morning tryst?”

  It was her heated response to that mere glance that had Brianna heading for the door. She at least knew that Janet was safe, and that for the moment, Edmond had no intention of tossing her into the street.

  It was enough for now.

  Pausing at the threshold, she turned her head to toss her parting words over her shoulder.

  “If you truly want to bring me happiness, Edmond, then send me to Stefan.”

  He jerked, almost as if she had physically hit him, but before he could respond, she shut the door and ran up the marble staircase to her bedchambers. She had a great deal to consider.

  Not the least of which was the horrifying knowledge that she was about to become the Duke of Huntley’s fiancée.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  AFTER BRIANNA FLOUNCED FROM the library, Edmond found himself pacing the marble floor with short, restless steps. Why the hell did he allow the chit to stir his temper? He did, after all, have her completely at his mercy. No matter how much she might squawk and squeal, she had no choice but to obey his commands or leave his protection, something she was clearly loath to do at this point. It was ridiculous to be ruffled by her sharp-edged tongue.

  It was sheer willpower that kept him in the library as she stormed from the room. He wanted to tame the damnable she-devil until she admitted that he was her master. And the best method of accomplishing such a feat was to have her flat on her back in his bed.

  Mon dieu.

  Brooding on the numerous ways to make Miss Quinn his devoted, satisfied slave, Edmond was actually relieved when a footman appeared in the doorway, accompanied by a thin, nondescript gentleman with lank gray hair and the sort of bland face that was easily forgettable.

  In his modest cravat and plain dark suit that was a shade too large for his body, the man might have been a banker, a lawyer or one of those endless merchants who scurried about London.

  Certainly, he did not make one think of a highly reputable Bow Street Runner.

  “Ah, Chesterfield.” Edmond smoothed his expression with a practiced ease, giving the hovering servant a faint nod to stop him backing from the room. “Welcome.”

  “Your Grace.” The man performed a surprisingly graceful bow. Edmond arched a brow, realizing that, in a more elegantly cut suit and with his hair more fashionably styled, the man could easily move through the streets of Mayfair. Even his voice was carefully cultured, although he could no doubt sound like a common chimneysweep if he chose. What finer talent
for a Runner than being able to move through the lowest to the highest ranks of society without attracting attention? He could use such a man in his Russian network. “May I say this is a true honor.”

  “Please, have a seat.” Edmond waved a hand toward a Venetian giltwood chair, waiting for Chesterfield to take his seat before taking his own place behind the desk. “Brandy? Or perhaps you prefer whiskey?”

  “Thank you, no. I never touch strong spirits.”

  “A teetotaler?”

  “Just a man who prefers to keep his wits sharp and his lips shut, neither of which are possible with a belly full of the devil’s brew.”

  Leaning back in his seat, Edmond smiled. “I see that you are indeed precisely the man I need.”

  “May I ask how you came to know my name?”

  “I wrote to Liverpool before arriving in London requesting his assistance in discovering a suitable employee. He assured me that you are not only the finest that Bow Street has to offer, but that you possess an admirable ability to keep your own counsel.”

  “Very kind of his lordship,” Chesterfield murmured.

  Edmond gave a bark of laughter. “Liverpool is rarely a kind man, but he is remarkably shrewd, and for the most part, a wise judge of character. Which is why I requested that you meet with me.”

  At last the Runner allowed a faint hint of curiosity to touch his bland features.

  “How may I be of service?”

  “First I wish to impress upon you the delicacy of the situation.” He caught and held Chesterfield’s gaze, the warning in his voice unmistakable. “It cannot be discovered that I hired you.”

  Chesterfield did not wilt, nor did he attempt to stammer a nervous assurance as many would beneath Edmond’s stern gaze. Instead he offered a somber nod of his head.

  “I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to ensure that there will not be a soul who will ever know we have crossed paths.”

  “It may be necessary for you to hire additional companions to assist you in my task. I do not wish my name to be involved.”

  Again Chesterfield nodded. “I can call upon several associates who I have known for years. They know better than to attempt to discover who my current employer is.”

  “Good.” Satisfied that Chesterfield was precisely the man needed for the job, Edmond opened the top door of his desk and removed a miniature painting of Howard Summerville. It had been a gift to Stefan from the ridiculous buffoon the previous Christmas. With a smooth motion, he pushed the miniature across the desk. “Take a good look at this gentleman.”

  Leaning forward, Chesterfield studied the painting for less than half a beat.

  “Mr. Summerville.”

  “You know him?” Edmond did not bother to hide his surprise.

  “Only by sight.” The Runner shrugged. “I always make it my business to keep track of those gentlemen who are having difficulties with the creditors. You never know when a merchant might hire me to keep track of his customer.”

  “Why the devil would a merchant want you to keep track of his customer?”

  “To make certain they do not slip out of the country without paying their debts.”

  “Ah.”

  Chesterfield’s lips gave a faint twitch, as if aware of Edmond’s distaste at the thought of being spied upon by his tailor.

  “Do you wish me to keep an eye on Summerville?”

  “More than just an eye, Chesterfield.” Edmond leaned forward, folding his arms on the desk. “I do not want this man to sneeze without you being aware of it. I want you to make a list of where he goes, who he meets with, and if possible, who he owes money to. I also want his properties searched and any reference to the Duke of Huntley or Meadowland brought directly to me.”

  Chesterfield considered for a long moment, clearly caught off guard by Edmond’s numerous demands.

  “It will take a number of men…”

  Edmond once again reached into the desk and pulled out a small leather bag filled with coins.

  “Hire as many as you need. Just ensure that Summerville does not realize he is being followed or watched.”

  With a practiced efficiency, the Runner captured the bag and tucked it beneath his jacket.

  “You have my word, he will never suspect a thing. I will keep in contact by leaving a message with the pub keeper at the Drake’s Nest near the docks. Do you know the place?”

  Edmond’s lips twisted. “No, but I do not doubt that my manservant, Boris, will. He possesses an uncanny ability to locate a vast number of unsavory pubs.”

  With a nod, Chesterfield rose smoothly to his feet. “Tell him to introduce himself as Teddy Pinkston and he will be given a packet of whatever information I have collected.”

  Edmond committed the name to memory as he lifted himself from his chair. “What if I need to contact you?”

  “Have a red rose delivered to La Russa at the King’s Theatre. She will arrange a meeting.”

  Edmond lifted a brow at the mention of the talented opera singer who had taken London by storm. What her connection to the Runner might be defied his imagination.

  “You have clearly done this sort of thing before,” he murmured, well impressed by the man’s discreet organization.

  The faintest smile touched Chesterfield’s lips. “That, my lord, is a secret I shall take to my grave.”

  IT WAS NEARING THE DINNER hour when the door to Brianna’s bedchamber was at last thrust open.

  “Janet, at last.” Rising from the cushioned window seat, she pressed a hand to her heart, realizing just how horridly lost she had felt sitting in the vast, empty house all alone. “I was beginning to fear you had been kidnapped.”

  “Not far from it.”

  With a frown, Brianna moved forward in concern. “Are you well? You have not been hurt—” Her words broke off as she neared the door and spotted the boxes piled in the long hallway. “Whatever is all this?”

  With a rather mysterious smile, Janet bent down to collect a number of the gaily wrapped packages.

  “The bare necessities of what ye’ll be needing over the next few weeks,” she informed the baffled Brianna, depositing the packages on the bed. “Tomorrow yer commanded to visit the dressmakers and order a new wardrobe seeing as ye’ll need to be properly fitted.”

  Tugging at the silver bows, Brianna opened the boxes to reveal the astonishing bounty. There were shifts made of the finest silk and edged with Brussels lace. There were whale-bone corsets, and stockings that had been embroidered with delicate flowers. There were also a dozen bonnets trimmed with satin ribbons and sprigged net with matching cloaks in all shades and fabrics. Janet busily toted in the remaining boxes that revealed soft calfskin boots and various slippers that Brianna itched to try on.

  “Commanded to visit the dressmakers?” Backing away from the beautiful treasures that now consumed most of the bed, Brianna glared at her maid in confusion. “What are you talking about?”

  “Oh, aye, ye might look shocked.” Janet sank onto the edge of the bed with a gusty sigh. “I near had heart failure when that lumbering ox drug me from my chamber and demanded that I purchase what you might have need of.”

  Feeling as if she had just stepped into some French farce, Brianna struggled to make sense of her maid’s disjointed explanations.

  “What lumbering ox?”

  “Boris.” As Brianna continued to frown the maid gave an impatient shake of her head. “Ye must recall the servant who near tossed us out on our ears last eve?”

  “Boris took you shopping?”

  “That’s what I just said, is it not?”

  “It is just that I cannot believe it.”

  The maid doubled over in laughter. “Oh, lordy, it was a sight to behold, miss. Once I realized I was not being hauled off to have me throat slit or to be sold off to the slave-traders, I ’bout near split me gut watching the great hulk walking down Bond Street with a scowl on his face.” She paused to blot the tears of amusement streaming down her face. />
  Brianna smiled, but she was far too unnerved to fully appreciate the humorous description.

  “He must have been ordered by Edmond to take you to Bond Street,” she muttered. “But why the devil would the man give a fig about my wardrobe?”

  Janet snorted. “Oh, aye, Boris would never have released me from my chamber, let alone step foot near that neighborhood, unless he was being forced.”

  So why then had Edmond…she gasped as realization struck. Of course. He might not give a damn about Miss Brianna Quinn’s wardrobe, but he most certainly did care about his soon-to-be fiancée’s attire.

  Which meant that he had sent her maid to begin her shopping long before Brianna had grudgingly agreed to his ridiculous charade of an engagement.

  Spinning on her heel, Brianna strode toward the bay window that offered a stunning view of the nearby park.

  “That man is the most arrogant, high-handed, aggravating creature ever born!”

  “’Tis true enough that noblemen are rarely blessed with the wits God gave a flea, but it does seem to me that the man has treated ye well enough, miss,” Janet pointed out in a slow, cautious manner. “A sight better than we dared to hope for last eve, I would say.”

  Brianna hunched her shoulders at the undeniable truth in her companion’s accusation. Pretending to be the next Duchess of Huntley was a considerable improvement over fighting off the advances of her disgusting stepfather.

  Or even fleeing to the Continent with no set destination and no notion of how she was to survive.

  That did not mean, however, she was not furious with Edmond and his determination to use her for his own mysterious purpose. Especially when it would be such a simple matter to take her to Stefan.

  “I suppose,” she finally muttered.

  Easily sensing Brianna’s tension, Janet moved to stand at her side, her expression concerned.

  “What is it?” Her eyes abruptly widened. “Dear lord, did he force himself…”

  “No. No, of course not. I may think Edmond the worse sort of scoundrel, but he would never rape a woman.” She gave a short, humorless laugh. “He would never have to.”

  “True enough. They’re few women who wouldn’t want to welcome such a gent in their beds.” Janet heaved an appreciative sigh before a speculative glint entered her eyes. “Of course, he’s a mite too smooth for my taste. I prefer a man who’s a bit rough around the edges.”