How to Enjoy a Scandal

by Adrienne Basso

  “He can wait.” Jason’s eyes narrowed unpleasantly.

  The steward’s lids lowered. “As you wish.”

  Jason stepped back from the doorway, allowing Ardley into the study. He deliberately led him over to the desk and indicated that the steward should take a seat in one of the chairs in front. Jason then settled himself comfortably in the dark brown leather chair behind the desk, the position he knew that Ardley was accustomed to taking.

  The gesture was deliberate. Jason wanted very much to emphasize his rightful place as the man who was in charge. Something Jason suspected the steward had conveniently forgotten, but the momentary flash of anger in the steward’s eyes let Jason know he understood what was happening.

  “I spent a few hours last night reviewing the account books before I went to bed and noted several mistakes in the addition of the columns,” Jason said. He opened the leather-bound ledger and slid the book across the desk.

  Ardley pulled it close and carefully examined the pages, frowning at the sections where Jason had circled the errors. At first, Jason had been surprised at how easy it had been to find these mistakes. It was almost laughable for someone to think it would be that simple to steal from the estate by adding the columns incorrectly and pocketing the difference.

  But as Jason had worked through the numbers, he realized that not all the mistakes went against the estate. In some instances the total indicated more money had been collected, in others less. It would therefore be very difficult to prove it had been deliberate, even though in the final outcome the estate had been shorted funds.

  Ardley’s expression was carefully indifferent as he pushed the ledger back across the desk. “I apologize, my lord. I can tell by the dates of the entries that this is young Thomas Lee’s work.”

  “Who is he?”

  “My apprentice. Or rather my former apprentice.”

  Ardley rubbed the fingers of his left hand across his forehead. “Early last year as a favor to one of the local families, I took on their son as an apprentice.”

  Jason settled back in his chair. “An inexperienced fellow should have been closely supervised.”

  “Quite right.” Ardley nodded his head. “He was an eager pupil and a hard worker. In nearly all instances his work was exemplary. Unfortunately, I did not discover that he lacked the necessary mathematical skills to be proficient in the job until after he had been doing the accounts for most of the year.”

  “Rather neglectful of you,” Jason said as he lifted his gaze to the steward’s face and fixed him with a look guaranteed to freeze an opponent’s blood.

  But Ardley barely blinked. “I thought I had caught and fixed all of the errors. My apologies for missing those few.”

  “Is it a common practice to take on apprentices for a property of this size? “

  “’Tis not uncommon. You may recall that I sought your permission to hire the lad and then later wrote to inform you of my decision to terminate the arrangement.”

  “I gave it only a passing notice,” Jason said, certain that if the agent had indeed sent his brother a letter, Jasper would have considered it carefully.

  “As always, I appreciate your confidence in my abilities, my lord,” Ardley replied. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

  “Not at the moment,” Jason said.

  He half-expected Ardley to storm off in a huff, but he soon realized the steward was far too clever to so easily give himself away. Still, as he turned to leave, Jason caught the hint of a frown line between Ardley’s eyes. A rather small, but important sign that let him know he had managed to ruffle the steward’s composure. Jason decided he would take it as a victory, the first on his way toward quickly unraveling the financial quagmire at the estate.

  Unfortunately, it proved to be a premature impulse, for it was the one and only triumph Jason experienced for several long days.

  Chapter Five

  The days marched steadily forward and a week later, Jason was forced to admit that he had run himself to a standstill. He was no closer to uncovering the true state of affairs at the estate than when he arrived and his lack of substantial progress frustrated him. Throughout the week he had made the rounds to all the tenant farms, speaking privately whenever he was able to the men who ran those farms. The results of their labors were clearly visible and Jason was convinced they put in an honest day’s work. All the properties were kept in good repair. There was no overt waste of money and all the rents were paid to the current quarter.

  To a man, everyone praised the efforts of Cyril Ardley, proclaiming him a fair boss and a reasonable individual.

  Jason reluctantly agreed. The prosperity of the estate was a testament to Ardley’s deft management and hard work, yet there was no denying that money was disappearing from the estate.

  Small inconsistencies abounded in nearly every aspect of estate affairs. Sums in the account book that did not add up, a double deduction when a single order was delivered, a rent payment recorded in one account book, yet not added into the total profits. Small amounts in all cases, easily explained as honest mistakes, yet when it was added together, it amounted to a substantial amount of money.

  The simple solution would be to fire Ardley. As the estate steward, it was his responsibility to oversee all matters on the estate and clearly he had been neglectful in his duty. Jason suspected that Ardley was indeed the one profiting, but he hesitated to act without solid proof. His brother had hired Ardley years ago, when he had inherited the estate, and he held him in high regard.

  Besides, it was wrong to ruin a man’s reputation without evidence to back up the accusations, especially one of this magnitude. If proven true, Ardley would never work again.

  Sitting alone in the study late in the morning, Jason held a writing quill in his hand, trying to compose a letter to his brother. It was a frustrating task, since Jason was not normally much of a letter writer, but the chore was made even more difficult because he had so very little of substance to report.

  It was lowering to have to admit such miserly results, mainly because that was precisely what his family, and his brother, had expected of him. All he could confirm at this point was that money was indeed missing from the estate, a fact that had been established before he arrived.

  The question of who was taking the money and what they were doing with it haunted Jason’s days and nights.

  He knew very well that his brother would not be satisfied with only discovering the identity of the thief. Jasper would want to know why the funds had been taken and, more important, what had been done with the money.

  The chief suspect remained the estate steward, Cyril Ardley. But Ardley had worked for the estate for ten years. Why was the money disappearing now? What had changed in Ardley’s life or circumstances that could explain this occurrence? Jason was convinced that the key to solving this mystery was to learn more about Ardley’s character, to observe him as often as possible.

  “More invitations, my lord,” the butler, Snowden, announced as he entered the study. “Where shall I leave them?”

  “Place them on my desk with the others,” Jason said wearily.

  The servant did as he was bid, hesitated, then turned.

  “Since you did not bring a secretary with you, I would like to offer my services, if you need assistance.”

  “Thank you. It is most kind of you to offer to take on additional duties; however, I will manage to sort through the correspondence on my own.”

  “Very good.” Snowden tipped his head toward him. “If I may be so bold my lord, you must not hesitate to ask me any questions concerning the locals. I would be honored to share my knowledge.”

  It was a tempting offer that Jason dare not accept.

  Though his suspicions remained squarely focused on Ardley, he could not yet rule out any of the upper house servants. It would be foolish indeed to place any sort of trust in the staff at this point in the investigation.

  “I will remember to ask, if I find the need
,” Jason replied.

  The butler bowed, then left. Jason swore under his breath. The ser vant’s remarks darkened his humor, heightened his frustration. He would need help to accomplish his task and there were few he could ask. Since Ardley was an active participant in local affairs, Jason knew he needed to go out in the local society to learn more about him, to observe him closely in this element, but that strategy could easily backfire.

  Though he had not been in residence for almost three years, it was obvious that Jasper knew many of the individuals in the social community. Through sheer luck, Jason had managed to bluff his way through meeting Mrs.

  Hollingsworth and Fletcher Ellingham, but it would be foolish indeed to enter into a social situation without assistance.

  What he needed was someone who could help him navigate the local society. His mind suddenly filled with the image of Gwendolyn Ellingham. With a soft sigh, Jason discarded the notion, but the idea persisted to dog him.

  In so many ways Gwendolyn was the ideal choice. She knew ever yone. She was a clear-headed female with a sharp mind, and that could prove to be a great asset.

  And most important of all, she was beholden to him and desperate to keep her sister’s behavior a secret. That would give him a decided advantage in negotiating some sort of arrangement with the older Miss Ellingham.

  With a grim smile, Jason tried to imagine Gwendolyn’s reaction to his request. She would be appalled, protest-ing that she did not frequent society functions because she was not invited. But who would dare to refuse her entrance if she arrived on Lord Fairhurst’s arm?

  In fact, the scandal of Gwendolyn’s past would help distract people from noticing he was asking a great many questions. Ardley was clever; Jason knew he must avoid arousing any sort of suspicion.

  And so, directly after luncheon, Jason put on his best tailcoat and finest linen shirt in preparation of paying a call on the Ellingham family. He rode the short distance on horseback, refusing to be driven in the carriage like a limp-wristed dandy. The ride, and fresh air, helped clear his head and settle his determination to be successful in his mission.

  The Ellingham home was a modest-sized, rambling house constructed of local stone. It did not follow any particular or pronounced style of architecture that Jason could identify, but it was still a pretty structure, set in well-maintained grounds.

  He steered his horse through the gates, pulling to a halt in front of the ivy-covered entry that led into a small garden courtyard. A rather overbearing, unattractive fountain was placed in the center. Its disproportionate size detracted from the beauty of the house, but the sound of the trickling water emitted a soothing noise that immediately caught the interest of his thirsty horse.

  Jason dismounted and waited for a servant to appear to take care of the animal. After several long minutes of solitude, he decided he might have to be so gauche as to let his mount drink from the ornamental fountain if no one came soon.

  Fortunately, a stable lad arrived just as Jason’s horse was nudging his way toward the fountain. Touching the brim of his cap, the boy nervously asked if he could be of assistance.

  “I’ve come to pay a call on the family. Walk my horse slowly to cool him down, then let him drink his fill,”

  Jason commanded, tossing a coin in the lad’s general direction.

  The boy caught the coin as it arched high in the air, pocketing it with a smile. “I’ll take good care of ’im, sir.”

  Trusting the boy to keep his word, Jason strolled up to the front door. His knock was answered by an older woman, who smiled with welcome and bid him to enter.

  The keys jangling at her waist proclaimed her the housekeeper and he was not overly surprised the household neglected to employ a butler. It seemed too formal an arrangement for such a casual home.

  The housekeeper held out a small silver tray, causing him an awkward moment of hesitation. Jason had no calling cards with his brother’s name and title. Yet another reminder of the consequences of his impulsive decision to impersonate his twin without fully considering all that would be involved in successfully carrying off the charade.

  “Lord Fairhurst calling,” he announced, sweeping his hat from his head. “Is the family at home?”

  The question seemed to confuse the servant. She lifted the tray higher, placing it almost directly beneath his nose. “Your card, my lord?”

  “I am afraid I am fresh out of them.” He smiled charmingly. “Would you mind very much delivering my message verbally and inquiring if I am to be received?”

  “Oh, they’ll receive you, all right,” the woman muttered. “I’ll be back in a tick.”

  As predicted the woman returned in short order. He followed her up a winding staircase, down a corridor to a pair of closed polished doors. The decor he glimpsed in the rooms he passed was tasteful, if spartan, and the overall effect was attractive and comfortable. The Ellingham sisters might not live in the lap of extravagant luxury, but they were far from destitute.

  The housekeeper gave a quick knock before throwing open the doors. At her nod, Jason preceded the servant into the room. His eyes quickly sought and found Gwendolyn. Quill in hand, she was bent over a writing table.

  “Lord Fairhurst,” the housekeeper announced in an awed tone.

  Gwendolyn’s head shot up and she squinted, as if not believing she had heard the ser vant correctly. She snatched the parchment she was writing on, folded it, then stuffed it in a small drawer.

  She gazed to her left and a look passed over her face that was far from pleasant. “Gracious, Aunt Mildred, you should have told us someone was waiting to pay a call.”

  The older woman to whom she had addressed her comment smiled vaguely and shrugged. Gwendolyn’s jaw tightened in annoyance. She shifted her head and shot daggers of confusion at Jason, but she maintained her control. It was obvious she was both alarmed and wary at seeing him again.

  He enjoyed seeing the penetrating glint in her eyes.

  Women with spirit were always far preferable than those who were spineless. He favored her with a guiltless smile.

  She leveled a piercing stare at him that penetrated to the bone, giving him a deliciously hot feeling of pleasure.

  In that moment Jason thought he had never encountered a woman so lovely or appealing in his life. He had to fight against the temptation to draw himself closer to her, especially since they were not alone in the room.

  His attention shifted to the other occupants. Dorothea’s mouth was gaping open in slight horror. She studied him from beneath thick blond lashes, her gaze worried. He surmised that the third girl, sitting beside Dorothea, was the aforementioned youngest sister, Emma. She had a sketch-book in her hand and wore a solemn expression. He bowed in her direction and she perked up considerably, allowing a smile filled with curiosity to cross her face.

  “This is a most fortuitous surprise, my lord.” The final occupant, a stout gray-haired lady whom Gwendolyn had called Aunt Mildred, appeared beside him. “I am so pleased to finally make your acquaintance.” She extended her hand and he took it, bowing gracefully.

  “Mrs. Ellingham. Forgive my intrusion. Mr. Ellingham extended an invitation for me to visit when he was at Moorehead Manor last week and I decided to take him up on his most gracious offer. I do hope I am not intruding.”

  “Oh my, no.” She tittered and rolled her eyes, as if the notion of him being any sort of a bother was totally absurd. “This is the perfect opportunity for you to meet my nieces. Girls.”

  It was clear that Gwendolyn was having a difficult time making herself obey the instructions, but eventually she moved in front of him, standing between her sisters, with slumping shoulders and a barely concealed frown. Mrs.

  Ellingham, her bosom swelling with self-importance, was too caught up in the excitement of the moment to notice. She made the elaborate introductions with a silly grin of triumph on her face that never once faltered.

  Jason could not have been more amused. He was used to being fussed over by wome
n, but as the younger, un-titled twin, he was not usually treated with such deference. “I am delighted to meet you all at last,” he said with a wicked smile. “Especially since I have heard so much about you.”

  Mrs. Ellingham blinked, looked directly at Gwendolyn, then pulled a face as if something truly pained her. Gwendolyn noticeably stiffened. Jason’s amusement instantly disappeared. Curse his glib tongue! He had certainly not meant to make any implications with that remark.

  Mrs. Ellingham compressed her lips. Jason was trying to decide if an apology would make the situation better or worse, when the older woman spoke. “Please, my lord, you must join us for tea.”

  He nearly sighed with relief. “I would be honored.

  Thank you.” With a flip of his coat, he settled into the matching settee opposite Mrs. Ellingham and tried to ignore the frantic looks he was receiving from the two older girls.

  Mrs. Ellingham rang for the tea cart. The girls sat down and he was surprised to find Gwendolyn beside him. Jason thought it was a good sign until she caught his eye and cast him another quelling glance.

  Under Mrs. Ellingham’s lead, they settled into the dullness of polite conversation. Jason could see it was an effort for Gwendolyn and Dorothea to be pleasant and civil, but they gave it a good try. The situation reminded him all too much of the London drawing rooms he so diligently avoided.

  The tea cart arrived. Mrs. Ellingham bustled around it, instructing the servant as to how and where to place the items. With her aunt occupied, Jason seized the opportunity and leaned over to whisper in Gwendolyn’s ear.

  “You wish for me to do what?” Her voice rang out in astonishment, the pitch high, the volume loud.

  The outburst earned them several curious stares from her sisters and aunt. He leaned forward, planted his arm on his knee and spoke softly, trying again to keep the conversation from being heard by the others.

  Gwendolyn glanced over at her female relations. They were clustered around the tea tray, all making a con-certed effort to appear engrossed in organizing the refreshments, but Gwendolyn felt certain they were straining to hear any and ever y word the viscount uttered.