Compromising Miss Tisdale

by Jessica Jefferson

  Suddenly, Miss Tisdale took a step back, as if she had heard his thoughts. She looked down at the floor, averting his eyes, and thus all likelihood of further seduction.

  “I apologize for going on like I did. I assure you that this kind of rambling is highly atypical of me.”

  “’Tis a pity then, since I rather enjoyed it.”

  She frowned at his candor. “Well, I believe you were readying yourself to leave. I shall bid you good day, then.”

  It was a curt dismissal if ever he had heard one. Ambrosia gave him no greater regard than when he had first entered the home, despite the poignant moments and sincere conversation they had shared.

  Duncan heeded her notice and turned on foot to exit the Tisdale home. His intention had been to entice her, to finally win her over. But it appeared he had been no more successful in winning the affections of Miss Tisdale than he had been at the park.

  Yet he had the distinct feeling that perhaps he was the one who was affected by Miss Tisdale, rather than the other way around. It was as if she were beginning to win him over. And that suspicion left him unnerved, to say the least.

  Chapter 10

  His world had been flipped upside down.

  Quite literally.

  Duncan looked out from the slit of his partially opened eye. The other one was refusing to cooperate for some reason.

  The sofa was upside down. The tables—upside down. Even James, sitting with some tart across his lap, with his hand halfway up hers skirts, was upside down.

  He cranked his neck to the side, causing him to roll over and fall from his position on the chaise to an awkward pile on the rug.

  Pain seared through him, but at least the world was right-side up again.

  Much better.

  “Are you alive, then?”

  Duncan thought for a moment before answering. “If the throbbing in my head is any indication, then yes, I do presume to be amongst the living. It is a relief, since I had hoped death would not be nearly as painful.”

  James laughed, then shared a sloppy kiss with the girl across his lap. “Love, how about you go get freshened up a bit while I talk to my friend?” He pinched the scantily clad woman on the bum as she maneuvered her ample body to a standing position. She giggled hysterically in response to the lewd gesture, causing her obscenely large breasts to practically fall out of her chemise.

  “Who is that?” Duncan asked after she’d left the room.

  James shrugged. “How am I supposed to know? I just picked her up last night.”

  Duncan snickered, sending a jolt of pain through his ribcage. “She seems quite . . . intelligent.”

  James chuckled. “Quite brilliant, really. You know how I love a woman with such enormous . . . ”

  “Wit?” Duncan finished, reaching for assistance to get up from the floor.

  “Of course.” James helped him back to a chair. “Your girls may not have had as much wit, but it sounded like they made up for it in other ways.”

  Girls?

  Plural?

  Duncan rubbed his side. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

  “I remember enough to be pleased with the evening, but not enough to feel guilty.”

  “Ahhh. Perhaps, do you think you could enlighten me, then?”

  “It was a long night.” James yawned. “Where would you like me to start?”

  “Why is it that I hurt so much and in so many different places?”

  James put his feet up on a nearby table. “Because of the fight,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “We were in a fight?”

  James laughed. “Not we. It was only you. I have more sense than to swing at someone twice my size with an entire brood of brothers nearby.”

  So, that was why his left eye was swollen shut and he felt as if he’d been trampled by wild horses.

  “And Scots to boot. What were you thinking?”

  Obviously, he hadn’t been.

  “But, thankfully you were so drunk by that point you barely noticed.”

  That would be why his head felt as if it were splitting in two.

  “Of course, you had to find someone to nurse your wounds. What better place for healing than a brothel?”

  Presumably, the establishment with all those witty girls.

  “Luckily, you’d done well enough at the tables that you could still afford a romp or two.”

  So, he hadn’t gambled away what was left in his pathetic accounts. That was good.

  “Then we sat with some other fellows and played a few hands of cards. Badly. You have quite a bit of paper floating out there, now.”

  So much for his pathetic accounts.

  “Afterward, we ventured back to your townhouse to make the best of the night. And that is when things truly started to get interesting.”

  Started to get interesting?

  Duncan held up a hand. He’d heard enough, finally remembering what had initially inspired his little foray into depravity.

  When he’d left the Tisdale home, he’d felt . . . uneasy. Things were not developing at the pace he had hoped. And there was the messy matter of his feelings he was being forced to contend with. Usually, he hadn’t any, but as he sat there listening to the lovely Miss Tisdale discuss her late brother, he had felt a rush of the little buggers. He felt guilt over his motives. He felt empathy for her brother’s death. He felt a genuine interest in her family.

  And worst of all, he had felt the insane desire to make love to Miss Tisdale on the drawing room floor for no other reason but the sheer enjoyment of it.

  None of these could he permit himself to feel in his current predicament.

  He was supposed to court, seduce, marry, and abandon Miss Tisdale. There wasn’t time to form a genuine attachment, nor did he want to. To him, marriage wasn’t about a relationship between two individuals, but rather it was about the sizeable dowry and final opportunity to redeem his family’s reputation.

  Then there was the dismal reality that Miss Tisdale was quite the respectable young lady with an apparent immunity to his charms. It was a small detail with a considerable effect, making the entire situation quite a bit more difficult than he had initially estimated it to be. She seemed intent on securing what she deemed to be a most acceptable offer, which was likely to be a great deal more than what he had intended to give.

  Expectation did not become him, so he sought escape from being the Earl of Bristol for a while, and allowed himself to become reacquainted with his previous role as second son, Duncan Maddox. Luckily, he had spotted James at the first club he came across, giving him a willing accomplice during the evening’s corrupt misadventures.

  Duncan noticed a woman’s stocking hanging over the mantle. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the leg he had presumably removed it from.

  He was unable to visualize the leg. Instead, he saw a chestnut-tressed beauty with deep blue eyes and the slightest dimple in her chin.

  “I believe it’s time for us to rethink the plan,” he blurted out, shaking the image from his mind.

  James sat up to attention. “Why? The plan is perfect.”

  “Well, the plan itself isn’t the issue. Rather, it is the woman we have chosen to be involved with the plan.”

  “What’s wrong, Bristol? Not as easy as you thought it would be? Am I to assume that Miss Tisdale is indeed immune to the Maddox charm?” James laughed. “I expected more out of you, ol’ boy. Are you so easily defeated by a bit of challenge?”

  Duncan cleared his throat, the blow to his ego landing precisely where James had intended. “I assure you, my charm is intact and just as potent as ever. I will admit, Miss Tisdale is a most taxing female, but I am certain that if given the time, she would eventually submit. But I just don’t feel as if she is truly the best of candidates. Perhaps there is someone else a bit less . . . ”

  Less beautiful.

  James adamantly shook his head. “There is no one else. You wanted rich, reputable, and in desperate need of a husband.�
��

  “There has to be someone else. This is London—center of the world and all. I just don’t feel that Miss Tisdale and I would . . . fit.”

  He was not being entirely honest. In fact, he could imagine himself fitting with Miss Tisdale quite nicely in a multitude of ways. And it was not as if he doubted his own abilities. Her indifference was humbling to say the least, but nothing he couldn’t get passed. In fact, he found it refreshing not to have a woman fall into his arms with so much as a glance and a couple of carefully chosen compliments. But after learning of their like experiences, he began to feel something toward the girl that just didn’t sit right with him. He thought perhaps it best to find an entirely different target before things became messy. Unwieldy.

  “There isn’t anyone,” James proclaimed. “If Miss Tisdale’s dowry is half of what I’ve heard it is, then you’re set for life. And her advanced age only helps matters. If she were a younger girl, than one could argue that even compromised, there would still be a chance for her to find another husband. But after four Seasons, there isn’t enough interest for her parents to put up much of a fuss.”

  His friend was right. Miss Tisdale was exactly what he needed, given the little time he had to accomplish such a monumental task.

  “You just need to try harder,” James scolded. “Now stop carrying on like some woman and get out there and compromise the girl.” He sat back in the settee, superiority and reprisal written all over his pretty face.

  The butler scampered into the room and bowed as if to make an announcement. He hadn’t quite gotten the words out when an older gentleman came walking purposefully behind him. It was like looking in a mirror, twenty years in the future.

  “Duncan? What is the meaning of all this?”

  Duncan looked over at the clock standing against the wall. It was half passed two!

  He was supposed to have met his uncle at one for a review of the family accounts with their solicitor. He had been putting it off for weeks, not seeing any value in looking over something he paid good money for others to do.

  “Meaning of what?” Duncan asked with feigned innocence.

  Richard looked about the room, disgust readily evident by his expression. “It smells like a pub in here.”

  “An upstanding pub with the finest clientele I hope,” Duncan stood up, timidly.

  Richard obviously did not find the remark as humorous as he did.

  His uncle walked toward the mantle and removed the lone stocking. He held it up as far away from his body as possible, by just his forefinger and thumb, disapproval clearly written all over his face. “Were you entertaining? Is that why you didn’t bother to keep our appointment? I had the solicitor there to help you review the ledgers. Estates need managed, Duncan. Accounts need managed—people are dependent on you now. Entire families survive on what comes out of these ventures. Dammit, Duncan! Your choices no longer affect only yourself anymore.”

  Duncan reached out and removed the stocking, balled it up and threw it behind him. “Last night I might have had a few guests over and it appears that I must have lost track of the time. I do apologize, it won’t happen again.”

  It would and they both knew it.

  Richard looked past Duncan at the chair James occupied. “Your Grace.”

  James stood, though he leaned a bit lopsidedly. “Mr. Maddox! It is so good to see you again. However, I cannot stay too long. I myself, also have an appointment.”

  Duncan snorted. “With whom?”

  James gathered his things from about the room. “Regarding my investments. I do believe my man of affairs has some documents regarding a series of mining opportunities in the west for me to review. Pleasure seeing you again, Mr. Maddox.” He bowed out of the room, closing the doors and leaving the two men alone.

  Richard rubbed his temples and avoided looking Duncan in the eyes. “I thought we discussed your behavior? You were supposed to be setting a fine example, yet I hear nothing but stories of your exploits. They’re all across the broadsheets. The gambling, the women, the brawls? Isn’t this the very reason your father sent you away in the first place?”

  “Ironic isn’t it? Father sending me away for the very behavior that he himself was renowned for?”

  Richard exhaled deeply. “It’s not ironic, it’s hypocritical.”

  “Mere semantics.”

  “Your father sent you away because he hadn’t the time to cover up both your mistakes and his own. And it is quite time that you move on and cease with all the childish resentment. You carry on as if your father had kicked your puppy. Besides, it’s not as if his actions managed to curb your behavior any. You were the same boy, doing the same things, just at a greater distance from London so not to bother your father or influence your brother. I had thought after a while you would grow out of it—this need to do the opposite of whatever is expected of you. That somehow, you would come to your senses and stop acting out for the sake of inciting a reaction and act more like a man. Like an Earl. But I see I was wrong. You’re the exact same petulant boy, perhaps just a bit taller and with broader shoulders.”

  Richard touched a hand to his chest and concentrated on steadying his breath. He found a chair, moving aside a discarded piece of clothing to take his seat. “You were always my favorite, Duncan. I saw a certain light in you that your brother Jason did not have. But you held such disdain for the rules, for propriety. I had thought the time away would have softened your distaste, but it seems only to have amplified it. And you’ve buried that light so deep, I do believe it has fully extinguished itself.”

  Then he looked up at Duncan, tears glistening in his old, sad eyes. “I see it’s of no use. You don’t want this life. So, you have my regretful blessing to return to your home up north and resume your wicked ways. You’re the Earl now, you could even return to Bristol Crossing and take up household there if you wish. I doubt that you’d want to though, with it being a proper estate and all.”

  Duncan closed his eyes. His uncle was thinner yet, and his voice was graveled and tired. His time left on earth was surely limited, and the guilt washing over him was more agonizing than any of the bruises and scrapes he bore. Jason had devoted the whole of his adult life righting his parent’s wrongs, and all Duncan had contributed was further harm. He detested the precarious state of his family’s good name and dissipated fortune, but instead of trying to remedy the problems, his behavior had only exaggerated it. He was no better than the parents he hated and vowed never to become.

  He knew he couldn’t change completely, but he could at least fix what was in his control. He could restore the finances and publicly try to repair the Bristol name. It would mean a certain amount of sacrifice, but it would only be temporary until he could get back from whence he came and resume life as normal.

  “I have a prospect.” Duncan said quietly, unsure of how the statement would be received.

  “Prospect?” Richard asked, looking up, hope in his voice.

  “For marriage.”

  Richard’s slumped shoulders began to straighten. “You’re not serious?”

  “Most serious. I’m afraid Lord Kenning and I were celebrating last night and may have gotten carried away.”

  “Why, this is a different matter altogether. I had thought you weren’t taking your new position seriously. But I’m happily mistaken. Who is she, then?”

  He swallowed. To recant now would be the death of his Uncle, and Duncan did not want blood on his hands.

  “Miss Tisdale.”

  Richard’s eyes grew wide. “One of Viscount Tisdale’s daughters?”

  Duncan smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Of course, one of his daughters. Isn’t there but one Tisdale family? I’m interested in the eldest—Miss Ambrosia Tisdale. From what I’ve come to know of her, she is quite an upstanding young woman and I believe she’ll provide a solution to all our family’s problems.”

  “Enough of that, I’m so happy to see you’ve found someone. So, you intend to ask for her hand? Soon,
I hope?”

  “When the right time presents itself, of course. But I assure you it will be done before the end of the Season.”

  Richard smiled. “The Tisdales are quite a distinguished family—a rich, distinguished family. Tisdale may only be a Viscount in rank, but his power rivals that of any superior. And the Viscountess is always the picture of beauty, so there is little doubt that her daughter would be any less with age. ‘Tis an excellent match, indeed.” He hesitated for a moment before continuing. “Are you sure she’ll have you?”

  Duncan exhaled deeply.

  Even his own flesh and blood doubted him.

  “Of course she will have me,” he lied, confidently.

  Richard stood up and embraced Duncan, patting him on the back and singing his praise. “You have done me most proud! I knew you had it in you.”

  Duncan returned the gesture and stood back, distancing himself from his uncle’s embrace, his words, and guilt.

  Chapter 11

  Ambrosia stared at the items on her vanity. Each tortoise shell comb was positioned carefully in its rightful place. She turned and looked at her bed. There was no wrinkling in the cream colored linens, nor were the pillows laid askew or tossed to the side haphazardly. Everything in her room had a place.

  Order. Routine. Schedules.

  Control.

  She controlled everything around her. She had always been a bit predictable, but since Thomas had died she had organized her life to the minutest of details. She always knew what to expect and when to expect it. Until now.

  Until him.

  She was nervous and she was never nervous. Going to a ball was as natural as breathing. But this ball was different.

  He would be there.

  There was no denying that the man’s very presence, unwanted or otherwise, had a profound effect over her. She had no choice but admit to a mild attraction. He was, after all, terribly handsome and quite charming when he chose to be so. But whenever he was in close proximity, she simply could not trust herself. She blushed, she fidgeted, she rambled, and she even kissed. She just wasn’t herself.