Scandal Becomes Her

by Shirlee Busbee

  She leaned against him, needing his warmth, his strength. “You are very good to me,” she said in a husky voice. “Few husbands would be so understanding.”

  Flushed with pleasure by her words, Julian kissed her forehead. “It is a good thing that I am such an exceptional husband, is it not?”

  Despite the gravity of the moment, Nell smiled, “Are you fishing for compliments, my lord?”

  He smiled. “No, but it is nice to have you speak well of me.”

  They sat together for several moments, enjoying the closeness that existed between them, but all too soon Julian’s thoughts returned to the matter at hand and sighing he said, “I dislike asking you this, but is there anything else from tonight’s nightmare that you remember that may help us?”

  “Only that he was enraged. He was like a terrible savage, brimming, boiling with fury.”

  “I wonder,” Julian mused, “what set him off.”

  “I cannot even hazard a guess.” She shuddered and pressed closer to Julian. “That poor woman.”

  “It is clear that we have our work cut out for us.” Julian shook his head. “I am not, I can assure you, looking forward to exploring every wretched, abandoned, damp, filthy dungeon in Devonshire. And the mendacious tales I shall have to concoct to convince my hapless friends, family and acquaintances to allow me to explore the lower reaches of their house doesn’t bear thinking about.”

  She smiled wryly at him. “At least you can rest easy that your own dungeons are not suspect.”

  He nodded. “Yes, there is that to be thankful for.” He glanced down at Nell, his features grave. “Are you positive that he is someone we know?”

  Nell nodded. “There is no doubt in my mind.”

  “Well then, let us hope,” he growled, “that our madman turns out to be that bastard Tynedale.”

  Nell shook her head. “It is not Tynedale. Tynedale is blond. The Shadow Man has black hair, much like your own…”

  Chapter 15

  Julian did not waste time. The next morning, seated in his library, he composed a list of the estates that he knew possessed dungeons. On that list he marked the properties owned by people that Nell had met. The fact that he knew them was of secondary importance, Nell was the key.

  Having been born here he was familiar with the various properties. When his initial list was completed, he was surprised to discover that there were so many homes owned by friends and family that had been built on the sites of former Norman keeps or castles, with dungeons. Some of the owners, such as Squire Chadbourne, took great delight in the gloomy dungeon beneath his grand home and would without any excuse at all drag unsuspecting visitors down to view them. Others like himself forgot that they existed unless reminded of the fact. Viewing the ones at Chadbourne would not be a problem. As for the others…he sighed. Everyone was going to think he had gone mad unless he could fashion a plausible excuse for wishing to see their dungeons. He looked wry. He could picture the expression on Charles’s face if he asked to stroll through the extensive dungeons he knew lay beneath Stonegate. Dr. Coleman wouldn’t be best pleased either to be asked to throw wide the doors of Rose Cottage to let him poke around in the bowels of the place. Now Lord Beckworth, his neighbor to the north, was like Squire Chadbourne, rather proud of his family’s dungeons, and could probably be induced to give him a tour without so much as raising an eyebrow.

  And last on his list was John Hunter, his gamekeeper. Not that Hunter owned a grand estate, but his home and several acres surrounding it, bequeathed to him by the Old Earl, had once been a handsome hunting lodge and was said to be built on the site of an old Saxon castle replete with the requisite dungeons. Julian didn’t know about the Saxon castle part, but he did know that the dungeons existed—as boys, he, John, Marcus and Charles, with a fearful Raoul in tow, had explored them. Julian smiled at the memory. Oh, they’d had a grand time roaming through that vast, ghostly place until John Hunter had discovered them and nearly scared them out of a decade’s growth when his huge form, cudgel in hand, had risen up out of the shadows and he had chased them away.

  He frowned. In addition to those already listed, he supposed he should add the remains of the old Norman keep near Dawlish and the crumbling remnants of a monastery deserted since the times of Henry VIII. Both sites, if he remembered correctly, were rumored to have dungeons beneath them. If there were other places nearby that had dungeons or dungeonlike areas beneath them, he could not think of any. Feeling that his list was as complete as he could make it, he put it aside and went in search of his wife.

  He could not find her and an inquiry to Dibble informed him that all of the ladies were presently at the Dower House. “They wanted to see how the work was progressing,” Dibble added, “and I believe that there is some disagreement about the color of silk to be hung in the main salon.”

  Since the day was fine for the second week of February and the Dower House was less than a mile away, Julian decided to walk. He had paid little heed to the comings and goings surrounding the renovations and because the Dower House sat back nearly a quarter of mile from the main road leading to Wyndham Hall, and was well concealed by a mass of tangled forest, he had not noticed any changes. Strolling down the badly pitted road that led to the house, avoiding the largest of the potholes, he concluded that work had not yet begun on the outlying areas.

  The wild woodland pressed close, in some cases actually encroaching onto the roadway, making for a narrow, gloomy walk, the branches of trees meeting overhead. When leafed out they would block out the sunlight. If I were of a nervous disposition, he told himself, I certainly wouldn’t be taking a stroll along this road. As he reached the final turn of the ambling lane, the Dower House rose before him, the roadway circling around in front of a steep-roofed, half-timbered, three-story house with mullion windows.

  He crossed the roadway and standing at the base of the bottom step, he stared around, amazed at the difference that the freshly trimmed shrubbery made in this area. No longer half-hidden beneath mounds of ivy and vines the beautiful lines of the house were apparent. The massive oak and lime trees that had brooded over the house had either been removed or trimmed back and after the suffocating murkiness of the roadway leading to the house, the openness was a most welcome change. Julian smiled. At least from the outside the place no longer looked like the abode of a warlock or an evil sorceress. A wide brick walkway, lined with expertly pruned roses and newly weeded perennial beds, dotted with the cheerful nodding heads of yellow daffodils, angled off to one side of the house. An offshoot of the main driveway disappeared in the opposite direction leading, Julian remembered, to the stables. No one had lived here since the days of his great-grandmother and all of his memories of the place had been of a deserted, overgrown, decaying place. Only the most basic upkeep had been done to the place in decades. He was pleased to see the changes and a bit ashamed that he, along with his father and grandfather, had let the place almost fall into rack and ruin.

  The sounds of pounding and hammering carried through the air and when his knock went unanswered, he tried the massive door and, finding it unlocked, let himself inside. In contrast to the outside, the interior of the house was chaos. Plaster, lumber, ladders, ghostly covered furniture loomed up here and there, and scrapes of wallpaper, buckets with mysterious substances in them and bolts of expensive material were everywhere.

  But there were signs of progress: the large entry hall floor had been redone in a striking rose-shot marble; the walls were covered in a cream-colored satin embossed with pink rosebuds and all the moldings had been either retouched with gilt or repainted a gleaming white. The long curving staircase, which he vaguely recalled having sported several broken steps with a railing that trembled at the lightest touch, had been expertly repaired and repainted. The hammering came from the left side of the house and Julian followed the sound to its source, glancing into several rooms along the way. He smiled ruefully. His stepmother did indeed love pink.

  In a handsomely appointed
room near the rear of the house, he found his wife and the other two women arguing over the merits of a pink watered silk as opposed to a soft blue fabric enlivened with a faint gold stripe. He stopped in the doorway, a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. From their intent expressions, this was serious business.

  “But Diana,” exclaimed Nell, “you’ve already used pink in several rooms, in fact nearly every room in the house is pink, don’t you think it would be better to use the blue here? Won’t you get tired of pink?”

  Lady Diana made a moue. “But I like pink. It is my favorite color. Besides, it is my house, why can’t I do every room in pink if I want to?”

  Nell and Elizabeth exchanged a look. “Of course, Mother, you can do exactly what you want,” Elizabeth agreed. “But don’t you think others, perhaps some friends and guests, who aren’t as, uh, fond of pink as you are, might not find it a bit, er, overpowering?”

  “Even perhaps boring and predictable,” Nell added quickly. “You certainly wouldn’t want that, now would you?”

  Lady Diana looked torn. Naturally, she didn’t want her family and friends to think her taste in furnishings was boring and predictable. Her gaze went from one fabric to the other.

  “It would make a refreshing change,” urged Nell. “A statement even.”

  “What sort of statement?” asked Lady Diana, intrigued.

  Julian decided to enter the fray and, walking across the room toward the ladies, he said, “A clear statement that here lives a lady of refinement and elegance that possesses the most exquisite taste.”

  All three women turned at once, the warm smile Nell sent his way making Julian feel oddly breathless and light as a feather, as if he were floating. Certain that his feet were not touching the floor, he joined the ladies in front of the big window, still in need, he noticed, of a great deal of work, that overlooked the garden.

  “Oh, do you really think so?” Lady Diana asked, her big brown eyes fixed on his face.

  “Absolutely,” Julian murmured, fingering the blue fabric. “Yes, the blue with the gold stripe is the way to go. I’m sure that friend of Prinny’s, the one who is making such a name for himself amongst the ton, that Brummell fellow, would go into raptures over the blue.” He looked thoughtful. “And no doubt despise the pink.”

  Lady Diana drew in a sharp breath. “That must not happen! Brummell can ruin a hostess by just a lift of his eyebrow.” Turning back to Nell, she said, “It will be the blue, definitely the blue.” A worried expression crossed her pretty face. “Mayhap I should redo all the rooms and remove any sign of pink?”

  As one the other three said, “No!” There were still months of renovations in front of them and if Lady Diana began tearing out already completed areas, they’d be having this same conversation, or one appallingly similar, a year from now. There’d been a few accidents that had caused delays and several bolts of fabric for the drawing room had inexplicably gone missing, necessitating its reordering from London as well as a roll of lovely new carpet for the library, which had also disappeared.

  “The other rooms are fine,” Nell said glibly. “There is no need to tear everything down and start anew. You only need a touch of another color here and there to make all perfect.”

  Lady Diana nodded. “I believe that you are right, but I may change the walls in the dining room to that gold figured silk that I thought I didn’t like. And the chairs—they could be recovered in that gorgeous green damask I bought and didn’t know where to use. What do you think?”

  She was looking to Julian for an answer and seeing his wife frantically nodding her head in the affirmative, he said, “An excellent idea! After all, one wouldn’t want to be thought insipid and flat. Especially not by Brummell.”

  Not wishing to be embroiled in further decorating decisions Julian expertly cut Nell out from the others and whisked his wife away, leaving Lady Diana and Elizabeth to their own devices.

  As they left the house behind them, Nell said, “I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your intervention. She has such good taste in so many things, but when it comes to the color pink…” She shook her head. “It has been all that Elizabeth and I can do to keep her from wrapping the house in the most vulgar and shocking shade of pink silk.”

  “Has it been a trial for you?” he asked, tucking her hand under his arm as they walked.

  “Oh, no. I did not mean it that way.” She glanced up at him. “I am very fond of your stepmother. I didn’t think that I would be, but she is very sweet and biddable and has a kind heart.”

  Julian nodded. “And a brain filled with goose down.”

  Nell chuckled. “Well, perhaps her intellect is not the highest, but she sometimes surprises me with her observations. Just about the time that you think she is a perfect pea-goose, she will say something that makes you take a second look at her.”

  They walked away from the house, entering the section of road that had not yet been improved. Nell shivered a bit as the gloom closed around them. “I will be quite happy when work is begun on this road. It is so dark and depressing that one can almost imagine fierce beasts staring at one from the concealment of the forests.”

  Julian kissed her hand. “I shall order it cleared immediately. It will be one of my contributions to help speed along Diana’s removal from our home.”

  Nell looked up at him. “Do you dislike having her living at Wyndham Manor?”

  “No, not really. I am, like you, very fond of my stepmother, and especially so of Elizabeth, and will always keep a watchful eye on them. But I think for everyone’s sake it is important that she have her own household.” He smiled down at Nell. “I have new and delightful demands on my time and purse that take precedence over her and Elizabeth’s claims.”

  “Very prettily said, my lord,” Nell replied with an impish smile.

  “I certainly thought so,” he murmured, his eyes full of laughter.

  Quite in harmony with each other they continued their walk. Julian told her of the list he had compiled and they discussed different methods by which Julian could gain access to the various dungeons. None of them sounded very good and they soon abandoned that topic and went on to a bone of contention between them.

  “I still think you should take me with you,” Nell argued. “I know exactly what to look for—you don’t.”

  “It is going to be devilish tricky as it is for me to inveigle my way into these places without having you trailing at my heels.” His jaw tightened. “Besides, I do not want your Shadow Man to have the slightest inkling that you may be involved.”

  “I will have to see the dungeon eventually, you know,” Nell said stubbornly.

  “Yes, after I have eliminated as many as I can, you shall certainly have to see the ones that have the characteristics of your nightmare. But until then, you will remain safely at Wyndham Manor and keep your delightful little nose out of trouble. I will not have you, or our child, endangered in any way.”

  Nell threw him a look. “I’m not made of crystal, you know.”

  He stopped and pulled her into his arms. Smiling down at her, an expression in his eyes that made her heart race, he murmured, “But you are pregnant with our child and I would have no harm come to you—ever.”

  Julian might have said more, but at that moment, John Hunter, riding a neat bay and accompanied by a pack of mastiffs and hounds, came around a curve in the road. To Julian’s surprise, Marcus, astride a stunning black stallion, was with him.

  Nell was not of a nervous disposition, but the sight of those two big, dark men, so similar in looks, riding toward her, coupled with the size and fierce look of the dogs that surrounded them, made her cling tightly to Julian’s arm. She eyed the huge mastiff leading the pack and she suddenly wished she was riding her own horse…or had a pistol in her hand.

  Spotting them, the dogs gave tongue and, as one, surged forward. A sharp command from John Hunter stopped them in their tracks.

  When they were within speaking distance, Julian exclaimed, �
��Marcus! What are you doing here? This is a most pleasant surprise—I had thought not to see you here again for months.”

  Marcus pulled his horse to a stop and dismounted. Bowing low over Nell’s hand, he said, “Ah, but that was before the news that our family was expanding reached me. Congratulations, my lady. I hope that all is well with you and the heir?”

  “Why is it,” demanded Nell with a smile, “that everyone assumes that I am carrying a boy? You know it is possible that I shall present my lord with a girl.”

  “Possible,” Marcus agreed, “but the Wyndhams seem to be singularly lucky in that their firstborns are almost universally male.”

  John Hunter, after a snarled command to his dogs that had them slinking to the ground on their bellies, dismounted also. He acknowledged Nell and Julian and then said, “I am sorry to interrupt you, my lord, but might I have word in private with you?”

  Julian shot him a sharp glance. “Yes, of course. Allow me to escort my wife back to the house and get my cousin settled and we can meet in my office in thirty minutes.”

  Hunter appeared ready to protest, but his gaze fell upon Nell’s face and he apparently changed his mind. Looking at Julian, he nodded curtly. “Thirty minutes, my lord, I will be there.”

  His reply sounding more like a threat than a confirmation, he remounted his horse and, his dogs obediently following behind him, disappeared down the road.

  Watching him go, Marcus remarked, “He was preparing to go in search of you when I arrived. Seemed rather perturbed to find you gone from the house. He was, uh, most insistent that he find you right away.” He looked at Julian. “My curiosity was aroused, but, alas, he revealed nothing to me.”

  Julian grinned. “I suppose you would like to be present at our meeting?”