In Pursuit of a Scandalous Lady

by Gayle Callen

  As they awaited their order of mutton and boiled potatoes, she kept near him, her hand still wrapped about his arm. His gaze seemed unfocused, his expression impassive.

  “Julian?”

  He blinked several times before looking down at her.

  “Windebank is your uncle?” She felt him stiffen. “No, you can’t keep quiet now. This involves me, too. And if this man knows we’re aware of his crimes, and we’re in danger, I should know everything.” When he was still silent, a muscle working in his jaw, she softly added, “You would feel better if you spoke about it. Tell me, Julian. I want to help.”

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t even know where to begin.”

  “Are you certain Windebank is your uncle?”

  “The name is rare. And he had more access to the diamond than most. But I never suspected—never imagined he would steal it.”

  “Is he your mother’s brother?”

  “No. His wife, Lady Florence, is sister to my father, making her the daughter of an earl. She always thought highly of herself, and is rather melodramatic. I can see her having an affair.”

  “But apparently Windebank couldn’t.”

  “Harold Windebank,” he murmured. “He’s a gentleman without title, and I remember being surprised that my aunt, so self-important, had not married a nobleman.”

  “Perhaps she loved him.”

  “Not enough, apparently.” His voice was grim.

  “You are certain they stole the Scandalous Lady?”

  “How else would they have gotten it? The hue and cry was great, since the jewel was bestowed so openly by a grateful maharajah. If Windebank had ‘accidentally’ found it, he would surely have returned it. And the police never did have proof that someone broke into the house to take it.”

  “Did your father ever mention a belief that it was stolen by a family member?”

  “No, he…”

  She watched as Julian’s face turned ashen.

  “Julian? What is it?”

  He cleared his throat, but his voice was still hoarse, and she knew it wasn’t because of the smoke he’d inhaled.

  “My father was humiliated by the accusation that he’d sold such a precious gift for his own benefit. A darkness of the mind seemed to come down over him. It didn’t seem to matter to him that soon I would turn eighteen, and I would inherit enough to save the earldom.”

  Worry coalesced inside her at the pain in his voice, and she almost didn’t want to know what happened next.

  “He died,” Julian said impassively. “We were hosting a hunt during the weekend celebration of my birthday. Everyone was there, including my uncle.” His face seemed to twist as he said the words. “They found my father’s body. He’d gone off alone, chasing the deer. It looked like he tripped climbing over a fence, discharging his gun.”

  “It was an accident,” she murmured.

  “Everyone said that to our faces,” he said bitterly. “But he was an expert huntsman, and knew our land from childhood. He would have never made so foolish a mistake. I knew what no one would say—he’d killed himself.”

  She gasped. “Oh, Julian!”

  “I never said those words aloud, but others in Society did. They assumed Father killed himself out of guilt over the scandal of the missing diamond, and what he’d allowed the earldom to come to.”

  She touched her hand to the jewel hidden beneath her gown. It seemed cursed, the source of so much bloodshed.

  “I was just so angry with him, too angry to grieve. I thought it cowardly for him to leave us rather than help resurrect the earldom.” He bowed his head, and rubbed his face with one hand. “I believed the worst of him, Rebecca, even though it didn’t make sense. I was inheriting money; everything would have been better. I didn’t understand why he would commit suicide…but maybe he didn’t. Maybe he discovered the truth about who stole the jewel, and to silence him, Uncle Harold killed him.”

  He had a spasm of coughing then, and she patted his back and kept her arm around him, though she couldn’t reach far.

  “I blamed him,” he said at last, his voice rough, “when all along I should have been looking for his murderer.”

  “Stop this,” she said firmly. “Are you a god, all-knowing, all-powerful, that you should have been able to figure everything out? Why would you even suspect your uncle capable of such a thing? Only now do you know he’s a murderer of innocents.”

  “I should have known,” he said too quietly.

  “And I think you’re being arrogant to assume so much. You were eighteen!”

  “This eighteen-year-old saved an earldom.”

  She was shocked. “You really do think you can fix anything, don’t you? As if everything should rightly rest on your shoulders. Oh, Julian, how can you hold yourself to heights you would never expect from another?”

  Their mutton arrived then, and he began to eat, his face back to that impassive mask that kept her out. She could think of nothing else to say that would make a difference. He needed to let all of this sort out inside him, to come to peace with this new revelation that changed his past.

  He was a man who didn’t like to make mistakes, who controlled everything around him. And in this, he’d had no control except over his emotions, and he thought even those had failed him. What must it be like to believe the worst of your father, and then have it all shown to be wrong?

  As they walked back to the lodging house, Julian stared at the decrepit building and came to a decision. He pulled her to a stop beneath a gaslight before they reached the open door, where people lingered on the stoop.

  “After I earn money tomorrow, I’m sending you home.”

  She rolled her eyes, which only irritated him more.

  “Take the necklace and keep it safe,” he insisted. “Keep yourself safe.”

  “Julian, I have a very good reason why I will disobey you.”

  “Rebecca—”

  “I listened to you, now you can listen to me. How do you even know if I will be safe? Your uncle knows I have the jewel, and now he’ll surely think there’s a chance I know what he did in that house to those poor people.”

  “Your brother will—”

  “My brother is not in London, and neither is the duke.”

  “Then you’ll go the Metropolitan Police.”

  “And tell them what? ‘Officer, I have this rare diamond which has been stolen and now several people are dead because of it.’ Julian, they could just as easily believe I’m the murderer.”

  “They would never—”

  “I posed for a nude portrait. Will they think I’m an innocent Society miss? Even you don’t believe that of me.”

  He winced, wondering if he’d hurt her. If only she didn’t make sense.

  “And I don’t want to leave you,” she added softly, slipping her arm into his and leaning her head against his shoulder.

  He didn’t know what to say to that.

  “You’re suffering, Julian.”

  “That is ridiculous.”

  “You’ve discovered things about your family you never imagined possible. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”

  He thought of the days they had spent together, the fascinating revelations of her personality as if he’d peeled back each petal of a blossom. She made him crazy; she made him laugh; she made him ache with lust. She confused the hell out of him. Did he want that distraction right now?

  But Rebecca was right—he couldn’t risk sending her back. He trusted himself to protect her more than he trusted anyone else.

  But what if he failed?

  That gave him pause, but he thrust the bleak, unsettling feeling away. He would not fail. And it was a mark of his confusion that he would even momentarily consider it.

  “Very well, you may remain,” he said at last.

  She looked up at him, wearing a satisfied grin. “So what do we do next?”

  “We attempt to get a good night’s sleep.”

  She glanced away
from him, her expression resolute and brave. She’d never faced such a place in her life, and he could not make it better for her.

  “And then what?” she asked. “I imagine you wish to confront your uncle. Is his country estate far?”

  “A trip of many days, with our money problems. But we’ll get there.”

  “And then you’ll have the truth.”

  “And justice,” he added meaningfully.

  He put his arm around her and frowned his menace as they approached the lodging house. One man stepped out of their way, and another hesitated before doing the same. And then Julian and Rebecca were inside, looking for the pallet that had been promised to them.

  Rebecca said nothing when she saw the heaped bedding and the narrow pallet that they would both sleep on.

  “It’s off the floor,” she said, giving him a grateful smile.

  He was certain she was remembering the rat they’d seen earlier.

  Much as he was usually a man who slept little, who worked late each evening, he felt exhausted. They went to bed fully clothed, Rebecca at his back near the wall, their portmanteau on the pallet between their feet.

  But others did not sleep. Even as Rebecca curled against his back, sharing her warmth, he found his eyes would not close. In the gloom and the guttering candles scattered through the large room, he could see people moving about, especially the children. Their little voices were high-pitched, and they should be frightened, but the hopelessness was the worst. It made him angry with their parents.

  Rebecca felt the stiffness in his body. For all she thought he would surely sleep soundly, he did not seem to be able to relax.

  “Julian?” she murmured.

  He looked over his shoulder.

  “Is something wrong?”

  In the gloom, she saw the trace of a wry smile.

  “What could be wrong?”

  “Such sarcasm, sir.” She snuggled closer, tightening her hold about his waist, glad his shirt didn’t smell of the fire. It smelled of him, and she was startled at how much she enjoyed that. “If nothing is wrong, then you must relax and sleep. What good will you be to me tomorrow?”

  She meant to make him chuckle, but he didn’t.

  A baby started to wail, and as his mother tried to hush him, her next oldest child echoed the baby. They could barely be a year apart, and she had several other young children beside them.

  “I don’t understand why they keep having children in such conditions,” he said in a low voice. “Good God, I’ve known about the ways to prevent conception since I was fourteen. And it’s not that grave an expense.”

  She came up on her elbow and stared down at him. “Really? I had no idea.”

  “If only my mother—” He broke off, muttering something, but she didn’t catch the words. If there was more light, she wondered if she’d see a flush of red in his face. It was a frank conversation. Had he thought his mother should have had fewer children?

  She found herself brushing the dark hair back from his face, the better to see his expression. He inhaled swiftly, but didn’t stop her. “I feel compassion for these women,” she murmured, continuing to stroke his soft hair. “They probably had no choice. For me, the hardest part is hearing people cough.”

  He glanced back at her, eyes narrowed. “Of course! And here I bring you to such a place, knowing you’re susceptible—”

  “No, you misunderstand me. I don’t fear for myself. I learned long ago that I have no control over my health. But I had my parents to care for me, to try to heal me. All these poor people can do is endure.”

  He said nothing, and she at last lowered her head back to the folded clothing they’d used as pillows.

  “You are a good woman, Rebecca,” he murmured.

  Smiling, she hugged him tighter.

  She thought sleep would come easily after the day they’d had, and truly, the noise of so many people didn’t bother her—until she heard a man’s moan, one of pleasure rather than pain. Surely she was imagining it, she thought in shock and embarrassment. A baby still cried, people still talked in low voices, a drunk bawled something out in the courtyard—and a woman moaned in response.

  Without thinking, she whispered, “Is that—” She broke off, regretting even speaking of such an intimate thing to Julian.

  “It is. This is their home, after all.”

  She buried her face between his shoulder blades, burning with mortification. She covered her ears, and he must have realized what she did, for his body shook with laughter. She hit him on the shoulder. How dare he feel amusement when something so painfully private was going on not ten feet away! In her world, if a man was caught even kissing a woman, the shock and scandal were grounds for an immediate marriage.

  The liaison became even louder, and she heard a rhythmic thumping. Julian wasn’t laughing now; he seemed just as tense as she.

  And she was pressed up against him. It seemed wrong to touch him, but there was nowhere for her to go.

  When she thought it might surely go on forever, at last the man gave a groan, and the thumping died away.

  She heaved a sigh and let her hands fall from her ears. It hadn’t helped much anyway.

  What caused the thumping? she wondered, even as she fell asleep.

  At noon, Rebecca found a spot of shade at the fish market, sitting on a rock that overlooked the canal and the many barges that served the people and the industry of Manchester. She could just see Julian, an open box of fish balanced on his shoulder, as he disembarked from a barge and went into a warehouse.

  She tried to put aside her feelings of guilt, knowing he would be upset with her. He was unloading fish to earn them traveling money. But she felt so useless, wishing to somehow contribute. When she’d expressed her feelings before dawn as they drank coffee and ate bread huddled around a movable coffee stall, he’d scoffed at her.

  She had learned so much today. When they’d left the lodging house, others were just coming home from their night work at the factories, taking the pallets newly vacated by the day workers, a way to save money that had her shuddering. Watching Julian unload fish for hours on end made her feel even more thankful that her family had been able to support themselves with tenants cultivating the land.

  Julian never seemed to tire. And he looked for her every few trips he took between the warehouse and the barge. She learned quickly not to linger too long in the stalls, examining the wares offered for sale, knowing that Julian counted on being able to see her, to watch over her. If she had her choice, she would have spent time salivating over the oranges and lemons, but the price proved out of their reach.

  When he took his luncheon break, they shared ham sandwiches and cider. He ate steadily, hungrily, and she wished she had more to offer him, for he must be starving after working hard for so many hours. She offered half of hers, but he refused it.

  At last he sat back, leaning against the boulder she’d perched on most of the morning.

  “I imagine you’ve been bored silly,” he murmured, eyes closed.

  “You might think so, but I wasn’t. There is so much to see. And I feel positively unencumbered without a chaperone.”

  “What a grand adventure,” he said, sarcasm laced through his words.

  “It truly is,” she insisted, “even if you are too single-minded to see it as so.”

  “I am keeping many thoughts in my head. The one that amuses me the most is the look on your face when candles were lit this morn, and you could see everyone who’d occupied our room at the lodging house. Your blush rivaled the reddest sunset.”

  She groaned and closed her eyes. “I wish you wouldn’t bring it up. My ears—not to mention my sensibilities—will never be the same.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “I must admit, I never thought to share such an experience with you.”

  “How can you imagine sharing such an experience with anyone?” she demanded.

  He looked at her from beneath half-closed eyelids. “I can imagine it.”

&nb
sp; Her breath caught.

  “And now you’re blushing again.”

  “Oh, just go to sleep. I’ll wake you when I see the other men returning to work.”

  “I certainly won’t be sleeping,” he said, even though his eyes were closed again.

  “Aren’t you exhausted?”

  He shrugged. “You may be surprised to know that I’ve worked just as hard in the fields and barns of my home.”

  She wasn’t surprised at all. “I imagine the servants appreciated your assistance.”

  “I was learning, so I felt the benefit as much as they did.”

  “And with your help, they agreed to stay, although they weren’t being paid much.”

  He closed his eyes again. Another topic he wouldn’t wish to discuss. Didn’t he want her to think well of him? Or perhaps he was used to doing everything out of sight, being shown little gratitude. She hoped that wasn’t true. Then she remembered the troubles he’d been having with his younger brothers. Obviously they didn’t appreciate him.

  “Did you unload fish another time in your life?”

  He smiled. “No, this is a new skill to add to my repertoire.”

  They sat in silence for several minutes, and he twitched as he dozed off. She liked looking at him, at his skin already darkening in the sun beneath his unruly black hair. His broken nose above his heavily whiskered jaw made these people think he was one of them. He was at home in many worlds, and she wanted to learn to feel the same.

  At last she shook his shoulder, and he came awake with an abrupt start.

  “Sorry. The other men are returning to work.”

  He nodded, got to his feet, and gave her a last look. “You will be all right here?”

  “No one bothers me. I’m certain your uncle thinks we fled Manchester immediately. And he would never think to look for us here.”

  His smile was faint. “True. But don’t relax your vigilance.”

  “I won’t.”

  He suddenly leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek. She held still in surprise and pleasure as he whispered, “I look forward to spending another night in your arms with all of our new friends.”