Scandal Becomes Her
Page 32
There was a horrified gasp from the gentlemen watching and Charles and Marcus lunged forward simultaneously, Charles shouting, “Julian, your back!”
Julian whirled around and dropping to one knee, countered Tynedale’s attack, his blade thrusting clean and true straight to Tynedale’s heart. With Julian’s sword sunk deep into his heart Tynedale staggered backward, his eyes full of disbelief. His sword dropped; he tried to speak and fell to the floor, dead.
Standing over Tynedale’s body Julian stared dully at him, wondering that he felt nothing. He had thought with Tynedale’s death that the despair and guilt over Daniel’s death would lift, but it did not. Even the knowledge that Tynedale had paid dearly for the upheaval he had wrought in Nell’s life did not bring him gratification. There was no exultation of having beaten his enemy, not even a feeling of satisfaction or one of relief that he had finally kept his vow and avenged Daniel. He was aware only of a great weariness and of a powerful need to see Nell, to hold her in his arms and feel her soft body next to his.
A babble arose in the dining room, some gentlemen rushing forward to congratulate Julian; others shaking their heads and muttering direful prophesies and deploring the lack of decorum and manners in the younger generation…and it was several moments before order was restored. Silence reigned when Tynedale’s body was carried from the room. There was no question that the death was justified and Julian need not fear that there would be any repercussions from this night’s work. Too many gentlemen had seen the duel itself to keep it a secret and Julian never entertained any idea of being able to muzzle those in attendance. As for gossip, and there would be an abundance…Well, that couldn’t be helped. He would, he decided wearily, just have to deal with it.
It was some time before the room was set to rights, but eventually all signs that a deadly duel had been fought on the very floor beneath Mrs. Weston’s long mahogany table were erased. Julian’s wound, amidst much low-voiced scolding by Dr. Coleman, was cleaned and dressed; Marcus helped him into his waistcoat and jacket. Charles expertly twitched his cravat back into some semblance of its former elegant arrangement.
“A bad business,” Squire Chadbourne said to him shortly as several gentlemen gathered around him. “A very bad business.”
Julian nodded. “I cannot deny it and I take no pride in my part in it.”
Lord Beckworth snorted. “But you meant to kill him, didn’t you?”
“If fate was kind,” Julian murmured.
“Well, you are very lucky to have escaped with nothing more than a scratch,” remarked Coleman sternly. “I hope that you will take my advice and rest that arm for a few days.” A faint gleam of amusement leaped into his eyes. “And avoid fighting another duel anytime soon.”
“I don’t think you have anything to fear,” Julian said dryly. “Dueling is not my forte and if…” He looked away, thinking of young Daniel and Nell. “There were reasons,” he finally offered, taking a sip of his brandy.
“There always are,” Beckworth commented. “Let us hope that whatever your reasons were that they were worth a man’s life.”
Standing beside Julian, Charles said, “Oh, they were worth it.”
“Without a doubt,” added Marcus, lounging nearby.
Beckworth stared at the three cousins. “Like that, was it?”
“Like that,” Julian said.
When the others wandered off and Julian, Marcus and Charles were left standing alone, Charles asked, “That went rather well, don’t you think?”
Marcus made a face. “I’d have liked it better if Julian had not been wounded.”
Several of the gentlemen were preparing to leave the dining room and Julian was not looking forward to the next half hour. In theory, gentlemen did not discuss duels with the fairer sex, but Julian didn’t doubt that once the gentlemen joined the ladies that the cat would be out of the bag—and amongst the pigeons. He groaned. What had he been thinking of? A duel fought in his aunt’s dining room! Good God, he was not some hotheaded youth ripe for excitement and danger! He was a soberly married man, with a child on the way. It didn’t matter that Tynedale needed killing—surely he could have thought of another way?
He caught Charles looking at him, a smile on his lips. “What?” Julian demanded.
Shaking his head, Charles said, “For once you acted without thinking of the consequences and you’re already regretting it.”
Marcus glanced at Julian. “Are you?”
Julian made a face. “Not Tynedale’s death, but I could have chosen a more, ah, respectable venue.”
“My stepmother’s dining room isn’t respectable enough for you?”
“You know very well what I mean,” Julian replied irritably. “You’re the rascal in the family, I don’t do this sort of thing—you do!”
“Hmmm, yes, I do,” agreed Charles, looking over the rim of his snifter at Julian, his eyes bright and amused. He grinned at Julian. “And I must say, dear fellow, I couldn’t have done it better!”
Chapter 20
Julian’s fear that news of the duel would fly like wildfire around Mrs. Weston’s salon was unfounded. Apparently none of the gentlemen felt compelled to whisper a word of the stunning occurrence in the dining room into the receptive ears of their female companions when he and the others rejoined the ladies. But the party, to Mrs. Weston’s mystification, did seem to end rather abruptly. Julian was glad that it would be left to Charles to break the news of the duel to her—if Raoul didn’t beat him to it.
His shoulder ached but Julian was able to act normally until he and Nell had bid the others good night and driven home. After that there was no hiding from her what had happened, unless he intended to avoid any intimacy with her until he was fully healed. A slow smiled crossed his mouth as he gingerly slipped into a heavy silk robe. It would take a great deal more than a wounded arm to keep him from Nell’s bed.
Nell was horrified when he confessed the evening’s events. When he showed her where Tynedale’s blade had cut him, she stared for a long time at the white bandages that covered the wound, her hands clutched to her heart.
“You might have died!” she finally managed. “You could have been killed while I sat drinking tea in the salon.” Rage shook her and she pounded his chest with her fists. “How dare you risk your life that way! How dare you!”
“But, sweetheart, aren’t you happy that Tynedale is dead?” asked Julian nonplused. “He is no longer any sort of a threat to us. Doesn’t that make you happy?”
“Happy?” she shouted. “Happy that you nearly got killed? Are you mad?” Her rage faded as quickly as it had arisen. “Oh, Julian,” she cried, throwing herself into his arms with such force that he winced. “I love you! My life would have ended if he had killed you.” Her head against his chest, she gulped back a sob and held him tighter. “Promise me you’ll never do something so foolish again. Promise me! I could not bear it if something happened to you.”
Julian smiled and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. “Nothing is going to happen to me—I swear it.”
With one hand she caressed the site of the wound. “Does it hurt terribly?”
He started to deny it but then a crafty thought entered his head. “Perhaps a little…If I could just lie here on the bed beside you for a trifle longer?”
Her face full of tender solicitation, Nell helped him shed his robe and slide into her bed. Mindful of his wound, she snuggled next to his naked body, careful not to cause him any pain by her movements on the bed. “Is this better?” she asked.
His fingers plucked at the hem of her gown. “Perhaps if you would just…ah, much better,” he murmured, urging her gown upward, his hands skimming over her body before lingering at the juncture of her thighs, clearly revealing his intentions. With delight his fingers discovered the sweet, hot moisture between her legs.
“What of your wound?” Nell got out, her eyes blurred with desire.
He smiled lazily at her in the glow of the candle near the bed. “If you wil
l help me I promise that we shall do just fine.”
Bending his head, he caught her lower lip and bit gently just as his fingers stretched her and pushed into her. Nell arched up against his hand, pleasure flooding her. She reached for him, almost purring when her fingers closed around the hard length of him.
Already wild for her, he shifted and with his good arm, pulled and urged her astride him. It took only a moment to sheathe his swollen length within her and after that, as he had promised, they did just fine.
The news of the extraordinary duel and Tynedale’s death caused a stir—not only in the district but also throughout England. The death of a peer in a duel was not unheard of, but the circumstances and the history between Tynedale and Julian made it a topic of great speculation and interest. It helped that the Season had just begun and that many members of society were still away at their country estates, most busy closing down their great houses and packing up their families for the trek to London. Because a large portion of the ton was scattered throughout England, the news did not reach everyone at once but traveled erratically through the countryside.
If the residents of Wyndham Manor had not already decided not to make an appearance in London this particular Season, the duel and its attendant scandal would have certainly made them do so. The advisability of changing plans and going to London to let the Polite World know that there was no reason for Julian, or any of his family, to hide away in the country, was discussed by the family. Nell had never liked the Season and since her advancing pregnancy gave her an excellent excuse to remain at Wyndham Manor, she was adamant: the others could go if they wished, but she was staying home.
Ordinarily, Lady Diana and Elizabeth would have been all agog to return to London, but both of them were excited about the renovations to the Dower House and neither particularly wanted to run the gamut of gossip their appearance in town would cause.
As Lady Diana had said, “It is one thing to be invited to all the most exclusive balls and soirees because of one’s rank and position and another to be invited because everyone wants to know every unsavory detail of a disgusting duel.”
That Lady Diana might have another reason for remaining in the country only dawned on Julian three weeks later when he realized that Lord Beckworth was a frequent visitor these days to Wyndham Manor—and to the Dower House. Discovering his lordship wandering around the grounds of the Dower House with Lady Diana hanging on his arm as Beckworth patiently explained the various stages of construction of her new kitchen, Julian didn’t think much of it. But then finding Beckworth at his dinner table for the third evening out of five, even Julian became aware that something was going on right in front of him.
Walking through the gardens late one morning with Nell, Julian remarked, “Is it my imagination or is Beckworth practically living in my stepmother’s pocket?”
Nell giggled. “No, it is not your imagination. Isn’t it wonderful? I wonder if he will make her an offer? Elizabeth and I are most hopeful that there will be a wedding this fall.”
Julian looked aghast. “Diana marry that old man?”
“He’s younger than your father and she married him, didn’t she?” Nell responded tartly.
“Well, yes, but that was…” He stopped, at a loss.
“Different?” Nell supplied and when he nodded, she asked, “How so?”
Julian shrugged. “I can’t explain it.” He shook his head. “I guess whenever I even considered the possibility of her remarrying I assumed that it would be to someone nearer her own age.”
Nell glanced at him curiously. “Would you dislike it if she were to marry Lord Beckworth?”
“No, I suppose not—if that is what she wants.”
Nell smiled. “I think it is exactly what she wants, although she is being very coy with Elizabeth and me whenever we tax her about her new swain. She denies that there is anything between them, but there is a look in her eyes…” She sighed, a dreamy expression crossing her face. “I’m sure that when they marry he will make her very happy.”
When Julian continued to look skeptical, she said, “If you stop and think about it, it makes perfect sense.”
“How did you come to that conclusion?” he asked with a lifted brow.
“Her first marriage to a man her own age was…Well, I gather from things Elizabeth let slip that her parents married very young and were not happy together. It’s obvious that Lady Diana adored your father and that their marriage was a happy one. So when another older, respectable gentleman expresses an interest in her it is only logical that she would be receptive.” Nell looked thoughtful. “In fact I would hazard a guess that she would repulse the advances of a younger man—equating him with her first husband.”
Julian digested this theory and concluded that Nell probably had the correct reading of the situation.
Something occurred to him. “Does this mean that I can expect a formal visiting from Beckworth one of these days?”
Nell chuckled. “Most likely.”
His eyes opened to the romance blooming under his nose made Julian more aware of the comings and goings of others and it dawned on him that there was a steady stream of gentlemen in and out of his house these days. It seemed that Charles was continually underfoot, while Raoul and Pierce appeared to have taken a liking to the hospitality of Wyndham Manor. It didn’t take him long to realize that the allure wasn’t his home but rather his entrancing young stepsister, Elizabeth. It shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did and he wasn’t quite certain how he felt about the situation. He goggled at the notion of Charles marrying at all, let alone a chit just out of the schoolroom! As for Raoul…His younger cousin’s reputation with women and his gambling habits left him with some misgivings. Squire Chadbourne’s heir, Pierce, would be a nice catch, but on the whole he thought that all three men were a little old for his young stepsister.
An opportunity to approach Charles on the subject occurred during the last week of April. An early-morning ride had been arranged among the cousins, but both Marcus and Raoul had begged off, leaving Julian and Charles the only riders. The morning was lovely, the sun warm and comfortable, the trees were full of bright green leaves, wildflowers carpeted the meadows in every hue imaginable and birdsong filled the air. Julian enjoyed it but he was distracted as he considered how to broach the subject of Charles’s apparent romantic interest in Elizabeth. It wasn’t until they were riding back to the house that Julian brought himself to the sticking point.
Out of the blue, he just asked, “Are you dangling after my stepsister?”
Charles stopped his horse. He simply looked at Julian.
Julian flushed. “Well, what else am I to think? This time of year you would normally be back in your old haunts in London, but here you are still in the country and, unless I am much mistaken, part of the court flitting around my stepsister. I know that there are several other local young cubs calling on her, but you, Raoul and Chadbourne seemed to be the main contenders for her attention.”
“Hmmm, yes, I’ve noticed that too,” Charles said, urging his horse forward again. “I think Raoul and Pierce are too old for her, don’t you? She’s, what, seventeen?” He slanted a sly glance at Julian. “Unless you think she’s following in her mother’s footsteps and prefers older men? Which reminds me, do you think Lady Diana is going to become Lady Beckworth this year?”
If that wasn’t just like Charles, Julian thought half-annoyed, half-amused, to ignore his question and then change the subject. “According to my wife,” Julian admitted, knowing it was useless to expect more out of his cousin, “in all likelihood we shall be hosting a wedding this fall.”
“Ah, yes, I rather thought so—his pursuit has been somewhat obvious and she has shown no signs of repulsing him. Are you pleased?”
Julian nodded. Having accepted the idea of his stepmother’s eventual marriage to Lord Beckworth, he discovered that he was more than pleased—he was elated. Beckworth was a good man. Steady. Reliable. Clearly smitten with Lady Diana.
And the lady herself seemed to have a glow about her these days that he hadn’t seen in a long time…not since his father had died. Yes, Julian was pleased. There wasn’t much that didn’t please him these days, as a matter of fact. He was married to a woman who loved him and he adored; he would become a father in a matter of months and the care and responsibility of his stepmother and stepsister seemed about to be lifted from his shoulders. A smile curved his mouth. Leaving me, he thought happily, able to concentrate exclusively on my wife and our child.
There was just one black spot on Julian’s horizon: the Shadow Man. During the time since Tynedale’s death he and Marcus had dutifully managed to search out every possible site for a dungeon, causing the pair of them to be recipients of some raised eyebrows and probing looks. Getting a look at the dungeons beneath Stonegate had been the most difficult and Julian knew that Charles hadn’t bought Marcus’s story for a moment. The afternoon of the tour, Charles had been a perfect host and while Mrs. Weston had accompanied them to the lowest reaches of the house, her manner had been stiff and unbending and it was obvious that she was still greatly annoyed about the duel during her dinner party. Raoul, plainly thinking them mad, had hastily absented himself. Of course the Stonegate dungeons bore no resemblance to those in Nell’s nightmare and as far as the Shadow Man was concerned the only good thing that Julian could say was that Nell had had no more nightmares—nor had John Hunter approached him with news of another grisly find.
“What are you going to do about the Dower House if Lady Diana does marry Beckworth?” Charles asked, breaking into Julian’s thoughts. “It seems a pity to let it return to rack and ruin again.”
“That won’t happen,” Julian said. “I should have been a better landowner and never allowed it to deteriorate. Now that it will be in prime shape, I shall see that it stays so.”