Lady Scandal

by Larissa Lyons

  “Very prettily answered. Now please tell me something less cavalier.”

  He ordered his hands to stop strangling each other and brought his mangled fingers in front of him, clapping his palms together. “I’m impatient. I tend to be unforgiving when wronged. I don’t suffer fools, and in my experience, most all aristocrats act foolish. I don’t—”

  “’Tis enough, I’m sure.” She held up one gloved hand, biting back another smile if he wasn’t mistaken. “Can we then assume you aren’t a thief nor a murderer?”

  “We?” His eyes flicked toward the partition behind her. Lady Scandal, my patience is hanging by a thread…

  “You and I,” the companion replied, plumping her cheeks by freeing another of those cheerful smiles.

  “A murderer? Nay. But I have been a thief.”

  “Uh-ahhh…” She seemed at a loss, choking on some sort of reply.

  Well, good. Strangest accounting of questions he’d ever been a party to. Most frustrating as well.

  Zeus caught the hint of a whisper then the daffodil cocked her ear toward the corner. So there was someone back there.

  It irked him that these “ladies” were playing games with his life. “Why don’t you show yourself?” he called out, overloud. “Face your future husband and pelter him with questions directly?”

  Let me see whether you live up to your name? And my infernal imaginings.

  Chapter Two

  An Exchange of Forfeits Goes Afoot Awry

  “In due time,” the mysterious female rejoined immediately.

  For not demurring, reluctant esteem for the woman rose in Zeus, though he couldn’t resist tapping one booted foot on the floor. When the edge of the rug that’d seen better years muffled the sound, he shifted back a step and tapped again. Louder.

  “Exhibiting your lack of patience won’t hasten the process, I can assure you,” the same dulcet, unattributed voice admonished.

  Plowing one hand through his hair, Zeus commanded his feet to still.

  Assuming the composure he wished he felt, the companion calmly turned back to him. “Would you care to elaborate upon the circumstances which caused you to steal?”

  “No, I would not.”

  “Would you tell us anyway?” His mysterious wife-to-be asked through the screen.

  Damn female, making it sound as though she uttered a sweetly phrased request when they both knew it was one he dare not ignore. He might hold the purse in this potential partnership, but she held all the strings. At least for now.

  “Mr. Tanner?” his nebulous nemesis prompted.

  “My mother was unwell,” he shared reluctantly.

  It was a time he preferred not to dwell on or speak of, but when that brought no response from either of them, Zeus felt obliged to elucidate. “It was a harsh winter. She’d fallen ill and could no longer work. She was starving.”

  “And you?” came the disembodied voice, subdued now. “Were you hungry as well?”

  Zeus didn’t attempt to stifle his small but very real smile. “That I was, but my thieving had an unexpected boon when the butcher caught me pilfering his bacon.”

  He heard a relieved sigh from the unseen woman. “Made you his apprentice, did he?”

  “Nay, but he did make my mum his wife.”

  “You may proceed to the next question, Wivy.”

  “Why don’t you ask it yourself, madam?” His own impertinence surprised him, given all that was at stake, but he forged ahead nevertheless. “It is with understandable urgency that I desire to make your acquaintance through something other than an embroidered barrier or the indomitable Hastings.”

  “Soon enough, my impatient applicant,” she said with an indulgent smile in her voice. “Do carry on, Wivy.”

  The blonde grinned at him, and if Zeus didn’t know any better, he’d think she gave him an encouraging nod, indicating he was doing well. “Please tell us about your strengths—and before you ask, I don’t mean how many stone you can lift or carry but your personality strengths, those that comprise your moral fiber.”

  From the hidden corner, a rusty cackle of what he thought passed for laughter jolted through him, chasing the shadows from his memories. “I think we can glean that one ourselves, Wivy!”

  “Madam?” He turned to face his invisible adversary and bowed his head in a show of respect before yanking it upright and glaring at that damnable shield. No doubt, she could see him while obscuring herself. “What character strength do you believe you’ve already ascertained and on such short acquaintance?” And by God, what the deuce was he doing bantering with her? This virago who hid herself and ordered others to do her bidding, likely so ugly or so old she feared running off suitors at first glance. But no…that oddly enchanting, uninhibited cackle of a laugh couldn’t belong to a crone. Or could it?

  In return, the chosen applicant will receive a genteel, amiable wife ready to bear his children. Female in question is of sound intellect and generally appealing countenance, he recalled, hoping to mitigate his growing concerns. Appealing countenance, heh? He’d like to see for himself.

  “Honesty, Mr. Tanner. Based on your pithy replies, it is quite apparent you possess forthright honesty.” Before he could react to that pronouncement, she continued. “Please tell us about your education.”

  “It came from the streets of London. Back alleys too.”

  “Then you know nothing of estate management?” She sounded vastly disappointed.

  “I wasn’t asked about my education in the realm of estate management, now was I? Only of my experience.”

  “I’m asking now.”

  “Last I checked, the streets of London contained lending libraries. While my practical application of such knowledge may be nominal…” He placed the tips of two fingers to the side of his head and rapped lightly. “The information is here, I promise you, simply waiting for the opportunity to be utilized.” Zeus started to rattle off a number of facts about Amherst and the vast lands comprising it but decided demonstrating his extensive knowledge of crops and herds, of tenants and taxes could wait until he garnered some answers. “I’d like to begin asking a few questions of my own, starting with how the blazes a female who lacks the gumption to show her face expects to convince me of her ‘readiness to bear my children’? That is part of the bargain, as I recall, and unless you intend to practice immaculate conception right along with the Blessed Virgin, you’ll be showing me significantly more than your face before the deed is done!”

  “Mr. Tanner!” The daffodil’s face flamed. Her hands fluttered. “I— I…”

  He felt rotten. Mum had taught him better. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to render you speechless nor take my honest impatience out on anyone.”

  A muffled snort then another splurt of hilarity met his ears. “Wivy, you may leave now. I’ll conduct the rest of the interview.” The embroidered scene trembled, followed by yet another snort. “I do believe I’d like to be alone with our guest.”

  Satisfaction surged through Zeus. Now he and the mysterious Lady Scandal would get somewhere. Somewhere that led him closer to her body, and closer to Amherst. Although, at the moment, he was more eager to meet the “lady” who possessed such unladylike laughter—laughter he somehow found eminently engaging—than he was to seek redress for ancient acts of contempt and derision. Trifling now, they almost seemed, when he was faced with his future.

  Though since meeting her—or nearly so—his conscience nagged, poking at him like a pointy pebble in his boot. Tell her the truth. All of it. Ignoring the annoying sense of scruples, Zeus rammed his hair back, wishing he could see through the partition as easily.

  As she admired the slightly muddled specimen of male perfection through the divider, Juliet had to remember she was invisible to him. One wouldn’t know it, the way he fixed his gaze upon her precise location, fairly stripping her bare with the fierce expression he directed her way.

  An evocative warmth spiraled through her in the wake of his heated gaze, tensing her m
uscles and setting her on edge. Flickering about her stomach and bringing a boldness to her tongue she’d not employed before, not with a father and then a husband who each maintained womenfolk should be blindly—and silently—obedient in all things.

  Feminine opinions were not to be voiced. Certainly not heard and considered.

  But with the way Mr. Tanner held himself and beheld her through the screen, all confident cockiness and self assurance in spite of the outrageous answers he supplied, Juliet doubted he’d allow himself to be threatened by any “mere” woman.

  In fact, part of her dared speculate…might he solicit her opinions on occasion, given how, even though he made his reluctance keenly apparent, he remained amenable to discussing each and every query topic she broached? A husband who talked with her! Would that not be sparkish fine?

  And Lord how her throat hurt! He made her laugh, this particular applicant. Causing the rusty, seldom-used reflex to scrape up her neck and emerge without constraint, sounding somewhat like a braying donkey she feared, but oh, how wonderful it felt. Almost as wonderful as the wicked, wanton urges he brought forth with nothing but his presence.

  Juliet’s fingers ached to touch the strong, corded muscles of his neck visible above his simply tied cravat, the muscles that even now worked as he clenched his jaw. No surprise, given the subterfuge he’d caught her enacting. But unlike the previous man who’d turned nasty when he’d found her out, Mr. Tanner only challenged her to face him, to speak with him.

  “Please, Wivy,” she whispered, not above pleading with her friend to leave them alone, but not wanting him to hear how desperately. After the plethora of unsuccessful interviews they’d conducted the last couple of weeks, after all she’d endured, she’d truly begun to despair of ever finding a potential, decent mate.

  It was a miracle she hadn’t canceled the entire scheme. While she’d seriously contemplated abandoning everything a time or two during some of the more wretched interviews, she hadn’t.

  And now a man stood before her, his responses nearly so absurdly perfect, Juliet was half afraid to ask him anything else. But ask she must.

  Others were dependent upon her.

  Merely because her melting insides craved for him to be the one, she couldn’t hide from the reality that his last response didn’t bode well. His lack of estate management experience should’ve been the red flag that waved him on his way. But she couldn’t turn loose, not yet. Not of him, nor of her hopes.

  Because on so many levels, Mr. Tanner seemed exactly right. Time and again, his at turns baffling and belligerent responses proved he was the first candidate to appeal to her in all areas she’d set forth:

  ~ cordiality to Wivy and Jacks (An indication, she believed, of how he might treat tenants, children…and wife.);

  ~ integrity and candor (She allowed his responses up to this point indicated both. If they also indicated an unwillingness to be led by a ring through his nose, all the better. She needed a man who wasn’t afraid to stand up to those who thought they were better than everyone else.);

  ~ a willingness to educate females (He’d managed to supply this perfect response without once smirking, earning her undying devotion early on.);

  ~ a disinclination to pander to whining whelps (She’d added this requirement just last week.);

  ~ interest and knowledge of estate matters (Grasping at straws, she reasoned Mr. Tanner’s inexperience in this area was offset by his abundance of honesty.);

  ~ and not most important of all, her mind insisted, but as though staging a mutiny, her body persisted upon disagreeing, it was paramount she found him attractive. Visually riveting. (Which she most assuredly did!).

  If Juliet was to barter her future by willingly shackling herself to another man, then, sure as tits trilled and cocks crowed, she wanted to want him. With everything in her.

  The low, constant pressure building deep in her abdomen and flittering about her chest told her she wanted Mr. Tanner.

  At least clothed, she did.

  And that gave her pause. Attired, despite his advanced years, Lord Letheridge had cut a tolerable figure. But once the padded jacket was removed, the contoured stockings stripped, and his sunken chest and pasty skin revealed, his bare form had repulsed her every bit as much as his repugnant personality.

  Therefore, Juliet had two vital qualities to ascertain before deciding whether Mr. Tanner was the spouse she sought: how he appeared unclothed and how he conducted himself as a lover.

  The idea of Mr. Tanner, naked and acting the lover toward her? It was more than enough for Juliet to discard all pretense of decorum and steer the interview in the naughty direction she hoped it might take. She swallowed past the knot of nervous excitement the torrid thought brought forth.

  “Wivy, you must leave,” she demanded as quietly as she dared. “Please heed me on this.” Then louder, “Olivia, do please tell the remaining gentleman how very appreciative I am he expended himself to such a degree but that I won’t be able to see him today.” Poor fellow, she really should compensate him for his time, but funds were so very low. Cook did make a thumping good scone however. (When they weren’t out of sugar, that was.) “I’m afraid I can’t reimburse his travel expenses, but if you would see he’s served refreshments before he leaves?

  “Oh!” Goodness, she’d nearly forgotten her other area of evaluation, not having many occasions to administer it. “And tell Jacks he may bring in the refreshment tray at his convenience.”

  Wivy shot her an inscrutable look and muttered, “I like this one but I certainly hope you know what you’re doing.” Then she quit the room, skirting around Mr. Tanner but only after imparting something to him Juliet couldn’t make out.

  Hmm. Now what was Wivy about? No matter. Juliet had just gained her goal: time alone with applicant twenty-four. A hitch to her breathing told her she hadn’t been this excited in years.

  Juliet smiled. But then she frowned. Her lower half was decidedly uncomfortable. She shifted on her hard chair, attempted to cross her legs—to squeeze out the lingering ache that’d settled there—to no avail. The ache persisted. “Well, now…it’s just you and I, Mr. Tanner.” She shifted again and tried not to sound so out of breath. “Shall we continue?”

  He brought one well-muscled leg forward then stopped. “Not until you tell me how I fare. Talking to an invisible Lady Scandal—”

  “Lady Scandal? That’s what they’re calling me?” Of a certainty, scandalous fit how she felt, staring waist-high at his flexing thighs and…um, things centered above and between.

  “Aye, but at being denied your actual acquaintance, I’m feeling the bamboozled dupe, thinking I’m here on a sleeveless errand and nothing more.”

  When he looked back toward the door, as if contemplating escape, Juliet stammered, “Nay! I’m not trifling with you! To be sure, I find you intrepid and impudent and a host of other things I’m too much a lady to mention.”

  “That bad, eh?”

  “That good, I fear.”

  After emerging into the hallway and instructing a curious Jacks to fetch the tray, Olivia pulled the door shut behind her and turned to look at it, surprise making her reluctant to release the tarnished knob.

  Well. That had been unexpected. Leave her charge and bosom friend alone with a truthful thief? And a formidable, scowling specimen to boot.

  Peeling paint marked the stout door she hesitated to move from, the chipped antique white antiqued more by time than design. After it had collapsed off its hinges their first week in residence, Jacks and their remaining stable boy (who needed more than one when they no longer had any horseflesh that required stabling?) had rehung it to its current non-listing exactness.

  The exchange of indistinct murmurs reached her from the depths of the sitting room, one deep and just a shade from belligerent. The other carefree. Joyous almost.

  Recalling his sincere look, and the quickly masked vulnerability if she wasn’t mistaken, in Mr. Tanner’s gaze just before she acquiesced and qu
it the room convinced Olivia that Juliet was in no danger. Unlike that lout they’d interviewed just prior, the one who’d exhibited no ability to laugh at anything, much less at himself, she sensed Mr. Tanner possessed enough self-assurance and inherent composure that nothing unduly untoward would occur.

  Pah. Applicant twenty-three. To resort to violence and all because the ruffian took exception to being “duped by two bitches” or so he’d claimed when Juliet had the misfortune to sneeze, giving them both away. Crude churl! Thinking he could buy his way into respectability, as though money answered everything. Give her a man with a ready smile and a good appreciation of the absurd, a hard worker not afraid to get his hands dirty and able to laugh in the process. She’d take that over one with sovereigns to spare any day.

  Actually most days of late, Olivia would be grateful if only a man would look at her and really see her. It’d been a long, long time since a fellow had paid attention her direction with something akin to interest lighting his eyes. Companions were paid (or not paid, in her particular case) to blend into the background. To become invisible. Something she’d perhaps accomplished with too much zeal?

  She thought of the way Mr. Tanner had gazed at the screen. With hope. And determination.

  And that was before he’d ever clapped his peepers on the fair Lady Juliet. Aye, her mistress was in good hands at the moment. Safe, strong hands, if she didn’t miss her guess, and Olivia had always considered herself a fair judge of character.

  With a decisive nod, she steeled her resolve and abandoned her station. Duty called.

  Tell the final applicant he wasn’t needed? It was a task she dreaded. To be cast last and now discarded without an audience? What man would take kindly to such news?

  “Oh, bother it, Wivy!” Unconsciously, she used Juliet’s pet name. Perhaps in an attempt to shore up her own shaky confidence? Lord knew sweet Juliet didn’t lack in the courage department.