Invitation to Scandal

by Bronwen Evans

  She needed time to think through all the options, weigh up the risks, and finally talk with Rufus.

  Her breath seemed to be stuck in her damaged throat. What did Rufus truly desire? Once she knew his heart, she’d be able to make a decision.

  She was so lost in her thoughts and fears that Rheda wasn’t aware of her surroundings until Daniel gently laid her on a bed.

  Then reality flooded back. “We’re here? At Hastingleigh ?” She tried to rise, but Daniel pushed her back down.

  “Stop it, Daniel. I need to go to Lady Hale. Her world has just imploded. She needs me.”

  Daniel shook his head. “Dr. Caxton has given her enough laudanum to make her sleep through the night. You need to get some rest, and I want the doctor to look at your throat. You can barely speak, and the bruises need treatment.” He wrinkled his nose. “And you need a bath. What is that smell?”

  “Opium.” She instantly recalled wiping it off Rufus’s naked body.

  “I’ll arrange for a bath to be brought up.” At the door he hesitated. “You realize I will be speaking with Rufus. You must know you’ve been compromised. You were found with a naked man.” She started to speak, but Daniel held up his hand. “I’ll brook no argument. I allowed your last escapade to ruin you. You saved the princess’s life and carried the shame for something not of your making. I’ll not see you ruined again.” And he left, closing the door with a sharp click.

  Rheda collapsed back on the bed and shut her eyes. Her throat burned, and she was desperate for a drink. As if reading her thoughts, there was a knock on the door and one of Lady Hale’s servants entered carrying a tray.

  “Lady Umbridge thought you might like some refreshment. I’ve set your bath in the dressing room, through the door.” The girl pointed to the open door to her right. “Do you need help undressing and getting into the bath?”

  “No,” she managed to croak out.

  “Cook’s prepared a hot honey drink to ease your throat. Dr. Caxton’s orders.”

  Within half an hour Rheda relaxed against the back of the tub. The hot drink helped to ease her throat, just as the heat of the water was easing the scrapes and bruises on her body. She had scrubbed the traces of the dungeon from her skin, but she could not block them from her mind.

  She hoped Rufus was resting. She wanted him refreshed before tackling the difficult conversation to come. The scented soak in the bathtub had been illuminating.

  She did not yet have all the answers, but one thing was very clear in her mind; she loved Rufus Knight with all her heart. And if his name and his bed were all he could offer her, then she would take it gladly, for to be the object of his desire was—quite frankly—worth any price she’d have to pay.

  “How is your throat, Rheda?” asked a voice so empty of concern it caused the hairs on her arms to raise.

  She opened her eyes and took in the haughty beauty entering the room. Lady Umbridge glided closer and, gathering her skirt about her, sat on the stool beside the bathtub.

  “Much better if I don’t talk, Fleur.”

  “Fine. I’ll do all the talking then, shall I?” Fleur said acidly. “I must admit I was not overly surprised when I heard the tale of Christopher’s double life. I suspected he was odd long ago, upon my first visit to Hastingleigh as a young bride. He was the only man who never tried to seduce me.”

  “Perhaps, in some things, he had good taste?” The snarky comment slipped out without any thought.

  Fleur’s eyes flashed, and she drew herself up. “I see the time for pleasantries is past. I have something you, or should I say Rufus, want. No. Need.”

  Rheda sat up straighter in the tub. “What?”

  The other woman’s teeth showed white in a parody of a smile. “I have your attention at last.” She leaned forward. “I admit Christopher intrigued me when I learned what had occurred. So I searched his room. It’s amazing what one can find when one snoops. I found some reading material that was very enlightening.”

  The moment the words left Fleur’s mouth, Rheda remembered her last conversation with Christopher, and the water seemed to turn to ice. He’d told her he kept journals. Why had she not thought of it? “Christopher’s journals.”

  Her smile widened. “You know of them. Then you’ll comprehend what is in them.” She paused, delicately. “All of them.”

  Rheda kept her face calm, her expression politely interested. “Why tell me? Why not simply hand them to Stephen?”

  The woman leaned forward. “Because you have something I want. Something that is to be mine.”

  Under the water, hidden from view, Rheda’s toes curled. “I cannot fathom what you’re—”

  Fleur cut her off. “Oh, I think you do. Six feet three inches of virile masculinity. He belongs to me, and I want him back.”

  “I’ve had a very trying day. What exactly is it that you want?” She managed to keep her voice steady, yet inside her body tightened like a bowstring before it was fired.

  “That’s better. Let’s at least try to be grown up about our situation.” Fleur settled back on her stool. “I want you to refuse Rufus’s proposal—I know there will be one, so don’t pretend otherwise. His honor would call for nothing else.”

  Rheda inclined her head. “He has a strong ally in my brother. Even if I wanted to I’m not sure either will allow me to decline.”

  “You’re a smart woman, Rheda. A woman who set up and successfully ran a smuggling ring should have no trouble extricating herself from a simple marriage proposal.” Lady Umbridge ran her hand over her hair. “I’d hate to have to destroy Christopher’s journal containing the truth about Rufus’s father or allow the journals about your smuggling—and affair with Prince Hammed—see the light of day. Think how the scandal would damage the Strathmore name. It would certainly seal their social demise.”

  Rheda took two slow, cleansing breaths. When she spoke again her voice was deathly calm. “My declining Rufus’s offer won’t ensure your suit.”

  “Leave the seductive manipulations to the expert. I, too, am a clever woman. I’m pretty sure he’ll do what he needs to do in order to procure the journal.”

  “You’d blackmail a man to your bed?”

  Fleur made a rude sound. “Not just any man and not to my bed. I’ll force him to marry me.”

  Before she could censor her thoughts, Rheda blurted out, “That won’t do much for his honor.”

  Fleur surged to her feet, the stool crashed to the floor, and the woman’s palm cracked across Rheda’s cheek in a stunning slap. “I’ll not need ‘other entertainment’ when I have a man of his stature in my bed. You have until tomorrow morning to dissuade him. If Rufus does not wash his hands of you by then, Christopher’s journal, with the evidence of the late Lord Strathmore’s innocence, goes in the fire, and the journals about you will be sent to the local magistrate and perhaps the Times.”

  She stood staring down her long arrogant nose, as if Rheda was an insect. In the most vicious tone she said, “If you truly love him you know there is only one course of action open to you. I promise I’ll—satisfy him.” She smiled and licked her lips. “More than you ever could.”

  The echo from the door closing sounded like the lid being slammed on Rheda’s hopes for the future. As her dreams disintegrated her tears welled. She tried to stem them but couldn’t. For once in her life she had no idea what to do.

  She let go and sobbed against the cruel hand of fate. She sobbed so loudly that she didn’t hear the door open and didn’t realize anyone had entered the room until Meg pulled her into her arms.

  “Shhh. Don’t cry. Everything will be—”

  “No. It won’t,” she wailed.

  Meg gently wiped the tears from Rheda’s eyes. “There is nothing women cannot do or overcome. You told me that.”

  “I was wrong.” She hiccupped.

  “Emphasis on the women—two heads are far better than one. Tell me what the problem is.”

  And it all came out. During Rheda’s story Meg
paced the bathing chamber, hands clenched at her sides. “What a bitch. I hope you told her to go to Hades.”

  “You know I can’t do that. She’s right. I can’t destroy Rufus’s life goal or his family’s future in Society. It would be selfish, and I’ve sworn to start afresh and to think of others first.”

  “But what of Rufus? He’s asked you to marry him. He has feelings for you. Are you prepared to destroy that?”

  “Feelings? Desire is easily replaced. Another pretty face, and men are content.” Rheda dried herself with the towel. “What else am I to do? If you have another suggestion I would gladly hear it.”

  “We could beat her until she tells us where they are.”

  It was a tempting thought. “With her thick skin, it would probably only tickle.”

  The two of them fell silent, remaining so while Meg helped her dress.

  “I need more time,” Rheda said finally, not expecting any brilliant reply from her friend.

  Meg shook her head and finished lacing up Rheda’s gown. “We have until morning to come up with a cunning plan, so don’t do anything rash. If we can’t think of a solution by then ...” Meg clapped her hands together.

  Rheda’s heart leaped up and into her throat. “What?”

  Meg shrugged her shoulders and looked away. “You could pretend to run away like a dog with your tail between your legs, then when she gives the journal to Rufus come back and unmask her treachery.”

  She sighed. “My selfish self already came up with that idea, but Fleur holds the trump card. She has the journals about my exploits. I can’t walk into Rufus’s life when he’s finally been cleared of scandal only to burden the Strathmore name with my own disgraces.”

  Meg dropped her gaze to the floor. “We’ll think of something. I know we will.”

  Would they? Perhaps she was deluding herself, thinking she could outmaneuver a slippery eel like Lady Umbridge.

  Rheda inwardly scoffed. Rubbish. She’d dealt with cutthroat smugglers, saved Tumsbury Cliff, faced down a French spy, and she wasn’t about to let a vicious whore of a woman take everything that was important from her. She’d find a way.

  She had to find away.

  If she couldn’t ... She’d have to walk away—for now.

  Pushing the thought of failure from her mind, she said, “You’re right about one thing, though. I have until morning, and I am not going to let that woman destroy what might be my one perfect night.”

  She welcomed Meg’s embrace and hugged her back as hard as she could, as if doing so would keep the pain from invading another inch of her skin. She had one night left to spend with the man she loved, and she would not waste it on “what could be.”

  Pushing out of Meg’s hold, she made for the door. Meg’s words following her.

  “You helped save Rufus from Lord Hale. I suggest you confide in Rufus and let him save you from Lady Umbridge. You don’t have to do everything on your own.”

  She hesitated at the door, a small smile on her face. “Oh, I don’t intend to spend this night alone. Nor ruin it by causing Rufus any further distress.”

  She’d give herself to Rufus. Immerse her body, heart, and soul in his passion. She’d create memories to last a lifetime. Only then, if she had no other option, would she have the strength to leave. Only then would she have the strength to walk away. To end up empty—like before.

  Chapter 24

  Rufus sat quietly before the fire in his bedchamber, drinking a glass of warming brandy. It wasn’t a cold night, yet he welcomed the alcohol’s burn. He’d discarded his cravat and jacket, and undone his waistcoat. His legs stretched out toward the hearth. He could feel the heat from the fire on the soles of his Hessians.

  Since escaping the dungeon he’d not been able to rest or have a moment to himself, and he needed to think through the implications of all he’d learned today—both about his father and about himself.

  The swim had refreshed him and restored his senses, but the aftermath of Christopher’s death and the revelation Hale was indeed the spy had meant he’d had a busy afternoon.

  His men found no trace of Samuel. Tomorrow they would widen their search. He’d promised Alex, and even though Christopher was the likely perpetrator in snatching the boys, Samuel could well follow in his footsteps. The only problem was no one knew Samuel’s identity. Samuel’s mask obscured his features. He could be walking about Hastingleigh estate as any one of the servants.

  But Samuel wasn’t the only person on his mind. Rufus had already summoned his mother. Lady Hale would need a friend. His worst pain came from the knowledge he’d hurt Helen, a dear and loyal friend to his family. His mother’s grief would be as deep as his own.

  Rufus would keep Christopher’s treason a secret from the world at large. Since he could no longer give evidence as to the innocence of Rufus’s father, there seemed little point in dragging Lord Hale’s name through the mud. It would hurt only Helen, and she was the innocent party in all of this.

  Stephen had agreed to his plan. The public story would be that Christopher died trying to stop a smuggler—Dark Shadow. They would tell only Lord Ashford the truth. The spy had been dealt with, and that had always been the goal.

  His lips curved in a warm smile. His father would be proud of him. Proud, not because he’d done what he’d aimed to do. No, his father would be smiling down on him because one moment’s clarity revealed to Rufus what was truly important in life. Life was meant to be lived, with and for the living, and he’d stupidly spent his life chasing the dead. It didn’t matter what Society thought. He knew that now. His friends and family. All that mattered was what kind of man he was in the eyes of family.

  Shame gnawed at his empty stomach. His living family. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation with his mother or his sister. Madeline—she was about to have her coming out, and he couldn’t remember spending any quality time with her over the past six years. What were her dreams, her hopes? What kind of woman had she developed into? He did not know the answers, and that saddened and embarrassed him.

  Then there was Rheda. He took a deep breath. He didn’t quite know what to think of her situation, but she was the most amazing woman he’d ever met. And she’d captured his heart.

  He knew that he’d never want any other woman. Rheda had challenged him from the first day he’d met her. She’d brought out the best and worst in him, and still she’d come to his aid at great risk to herself. He gave a sigh and felt his body quicken. Did she love him?

  The door opened, and, as if she heard his silent call, she was there in his room. His heart sped up. She looked beautiful. His fists clenched in his lap at the sight of the bruises developing around her slender throat.

  When she walked into the center of his room and smiled, his world lit up and his head started to swim.

  “Are you all right?” she asked shyly.

  I am now, he wanted to say, but her beauty held him speechless. Seeing Rheda safe ... In answer he rose, and in one long stride reached her, caught her up against his chest, cupped her chin, and slowly lowered his mouth to hers.

  Rheda closed her eyes, slipped her arms around his neck, and accepted his tongue into her mouth in warm, loving invitation. He tasted of warm brandy. He tasted—like the man she loved.

  Rufus pulled back and rested his forehead against hers. He was breathing heavily. “My wild and reckless Rheda. I should put you over my knee for risking your pretty little neck. What were you thinking coming to that hell hole on your own? You take too many risks.”

  Her head was so light, her blood so hot, she barely heard his soft censure. “I thought only of saving you.” And she threw herself back into the embrace, kissing him with feverish urgency as if tomorrow would sneak up on her before she’d taken her fill of him. She had a lifetime of memories to live in just one night. The thought spurred her actions.

  A groan emitted from deep in his chest as she ran her hands over his body, all the while edging him back toward his large ca
nopied four-poster bed. When they came to an abrupt halt, hitting one corner post of the bed, she pressed him back against it, grasping the flaps of his unbuttoned waistcoat.

  For once in her life she was glad of her reckless nature, for his kisses made her boldly impatient to see him in all his glorious nakedness.

  She broke their kiss and daringly rained butterfly-light licks and nibbles down his throat until she could part the V of his shirt to slide her hands inside. Her fingers sought his nipples, and she raked her nails lightly over his skin.

  He hooked his finger inside her gown at the shoulder and followed her décolletage down to the front, grazing her sensitized nipple as his touch passed over her breast.

  “I want you naked,” she panted, feeling her nipples instantly harden.

  Never one to be denied that which she wanted, Rheda tore her hands from his chest and pushed the waistcoat off his shoulders and down his arms. She reached and pulled his shirt from his trousers, running her hands seductively up his chest as she helped him to pull the garment over his head.

  “You set my world on fire, siren.” He grasped her hips and pulled her closer until she could feel the evidence of his desire hard and pulsing against her belly. More brazen still, she cupped him through his breeches, and he moaned and dropped his head back against the post behind him.

  She ran her questing fingers up the length of his arousal, then up his flat belly to his chest. Finally she curled her fingers around his nape and stared at him. He no longer looked like the composed and elegant lord she’d first met on the cliff top. He looked as wild as an unbroken stallion. She pressed a kiss to his chest. He looked at her in tormented ecstasy.

  “Life is full of risks,” she whispered. “You once promised to show me such pleasure I’d scream until I was hoarse. I’m not sure my throat is up to screaming, but my body is willing to risk the pain to experience all the pleasure you can give it.”

  The wicked smile he gave her sent a thrill all the way down to her toes.