Scandalous Virtue

by Brenda Hiatt

  Prudence turned an even brighter red and again covered her mouth at such plain speaking—but she nodded.

  “Why Prudence, I am astonished!” But Nessa spoke playfully now, as she toyed with the possibility.

  Recovering herself somewhat, Prudence leaned forward earnestly, though her color was still high. “I do hope you will try, Nessa. I was not going to mention this, but Amanda Leverton claims to have seen them together less than an hour ago, on Bond Street. She made a point of telling me that she saw him leaving her carriage.”

  Nessa’s levity abruptly disappeared. “He joined her in her carriage? This very morning?” He must have gone straight to her upon leaving the house. So much for his promises!

  “Miss Leverton wished me to … congratulate you on taking her advice after all. It would appear she heard about your reception of Mrs. Dempsey last night.”

  “Her advice!” Nessa seethed. “That is the last thing I wish to follow. No, I believe I shall take yours, instead.” She managed a shaky smile. “Truly, Prudence, I believe your suggestion has merit—shocked as I was to hear you of all people propose it! Dare I hope this means you have begun to find more of pleasure than duty in your own marriage bed?”

  Her sister’s complexion had nearly returned to its normal color, but at that it flamed again. “Really, Nessa! ’Tis not my marriage under discussion just now. It is perfectly satisfactory.”

  Despite her own troubles, Nessa could not suppress a grin at her sister’s expression. It would seem she had hit the mark indeed! “I’m pleased to hear it. And I thank you for your advice. Scandalous or not, I believe it may be just the thing. After all, what choice do I have?”

  What choice indeed? Short of abandoning her marriage vows entirely or living in celibacy—which would surely punish her more than it would Jack—what else could she do?

  She stood in sudden decision. “You are the best of sisters, Prudence. Your idea may well be the saving of my marriage—and my sanity.”

  “Then I will have repaid my debt to you,” Prudence replied. Though her cheeks were still bright, she smiled as she met Nessa’s eyes—a smile that admitted to the new pleasures she’d discovered in her husband’s arms.

  Glad that she’d been instrumental in improving her sister’s marriage, Nessa gave her a fervent hug, then took her leave, ready to do battle on behalf of her own.

  Two hours later, Jack was shown into the room his wife had so recently quitted.

  “How pleasant to see you, Lord Foxhaven,” Lady Creamcroft greeted him, looking up calmly from her needlework. “I’m sure if Nessa had known you planned to call here this afternoon, she would have waited.”

  Jack paused midway through his bow. “She was here? Today?” So much for his hopes of explaining Miranda’s duplicity to Lady Creamcroft before she could pass along yet more damaging tales.

  His hostess nodded. “She came seeking sisterly advice. I fear you have given her some cause for distress, my lord.”

  “I have,” he admitted cautiously, taking a seat. “But not as much cause as you might think.”

  “Oh?” she asked mildly.

  “I, er, learned today that you may have been told … things … which were not entirely true. I assure you, Lady Creamcroft, that I have not been unfaithful to Nessa, either in thought or deed.” There. Now he’d counteracted whatever lies Miranda had told her.

  But Lady Creamcroft appeared not at all surprised. “I’m pleased to hear it, of course, though I am not the one you need to tell. Your judgment seems questionable in this, as in other matters, my lord.” At his frown, she continued. “Joining another woman in her private carriage is scarcely the sort of thing designed to alleviate a wife’s suspicions.”

  Jack felt his eyes fairly start from his head. “Good God!” he exclaimed, then quickly added, “I beg your pardon, my lady. But I begin to believe a network of spies is at work to make my every move public in short order.”

  “Bond Street is scarcely a private venue, my lord, and gossip travels quickly in London, as you are no doubt aware.”

  “And now Nessa knows about that, as well,” he said with a groan. “Pray believe me, Lady Creamcroft, it was not at all what it appeared. I will not be seeing Mrs. Dempsey, publicly or privately, in future. I have made certain of that.”

  She lifted her shoulders slightly. “Again, I am not the one who needs to hear this. I recommend you tell your wife.”

  Jack rose. “I’ll do that—immediately. Thank you, my lady. I give you good day.”

  Ten minutes later he entered Foxhaven House, having spent the intervening walk rehearsing what he hoped was a suitably groveling speech. Soon this whole ugly misunderstanding would be behind them, and he and Nessa could resume where they had left off two days since.

  “Daniels, is Lady Foxhaven at home?” he asked the new butler as he relinquished his top hat and greatcoat. On being assured that she was, he headed up the stairs, only to be greeted by a vision as he turned at the first landing.

  Nessa, dressed in a breathtakingly low-cut sapphire gown, was just descending from the second story. Her chestnut hair was piled high and studded with sparkling gems. A necklace of diamonds and sapphires, a Foxhaven heirloom, encircled her throat, its large central jewel suspended between her breasts, emphasizing her cleavage. Jack swallowed, his body responding instantly to the alluring picture she presented.

  “Why Jack, are you not dressed yet?” she asked in apparent surprise while he groped for the opening words of his speech. “We are due at the Beckhavens’ in an hour.”

  “We … we are?” With an effort, he wrenched his eyes away from her nearly-exposed bosom to focus upon her face. She wore an enigmatic half-smile.

  “Yes, indeed. They have invited us to a dinner party preceding their musicale. From there, we are engaged to accompany Lord and Lady Norville to a reception at the Russian embassy. What a mercy we did not schedule our soirée for this evening!”

  Jack blinked. Nessa was acting as though their conversation that morning had never taken place. “I … Yes. I suppose it is. I’ll, um, go up and change directly.”

  “I shall await you in the parlor. I’ve ordered the carriage in forty-five minutes’ time.” With a stunning smile, she continued past him down the stairs, leaving a tantalizing whiff of exotic perfume in her wake.

  He watched after her for a moment before dazedly proceeding upstairs to his bedchamber. Parker awaited him there, with his evening clothes already laid out.

  “Will this be acceptable, my lord?” he asked, indicating the dark blue tailed coat, matching waistcoat, and buff breeches.

  “Fine, Parker, fine,” replied Jack absently. “Did you see Lady Foxhaven?” It wasn’t normally the thing to discuss one’s wife with one’s valet, but just now he felt the need of a clearer head to supplement his own.

  “Indeed, my lord. Most striking. I chose this coat to complement her gown. You’ll be a perfect match.”

  Jack regarded his valet closely. “Do you think so?”

  Parker gave one of his cryptic smiles. “A well-matched pair requires equal exertion from both. Practice and a willingness to accommodate will generally assure a smooth pace.”

  It was as enigmatic as any of his valet’s speeches, but Jack knew better than to request an explanation.

  After taking even more care than usual over Jack’s cravat, his valet finally pronounced him fit to leave the room. Hurrying downstairs, Jack glanced at his pocket watch. He would have only a few minutes to speak with Nessa before the carriage arrived at the door. He’d best make those minutes count.

  “My dear …” he began as he entered the parlor, but Nessa did not give him an opportunity to continue.

  “Ah, there you are, Jack. Tell me, do you think I made the right decision with these curtains? I’d thought the blue and cream would complement the rest of the room, but now I begin to believe the pattern is too busy.”

  He glanced impatiently at the curtains in question. “They look fine, Nessa. The whole
house looks fine. You did a splendid job with it, as dozens of people informed you last night. What I’d hoped to talk about—”

  “Why, thank you, Jack!” she cooed, smiling most bewitchingly as she came toward him. “I meant to tell you how much I appreciated your praise of me to our guests, but I … was a bit distracted and forgot to do so.”

  Was she trying to tell him all was forgiven? He scarcely dared to hope so. She seemed to be playing some role, the purpose of which he hadn’t yet divined.

  “I said nothing that wasn’t true,” he said, trying to imbue his words with additional meaning. “You have accomplished miracles in short order—on several fronts.” Certainly, no other woman had ever managed to secure his love—or even his inward admission that such a thing existed.

  For a moment, her glitteringly seductive façade seemed to slip, revealing the Nessa he knew. “Really, Jack?” Her eyes probed his, seeking …

  “Milord, milady, the carriage,” intoned Daniels from the open doorway.

  At once, Nessa whirled away from him. “Precisely on time. We mustn’t keep the horses standing. Let us go, my lord.”

  A footman appeared with their cloaks, and then accompanied them to the coach to open the door and lower the steps. Now he would have his chance to talk to her, Jack thought, joining Nessa within.

  “Nessa, I wish to apologize,” he said the moment the door closed behind him, before she could introduce any other extraneous topic. “I subjected you to gossip, however unintentionally, and to distress. I promise not to let it happen again.”

  She stared out of the carriage window for so long that he began to wonder if she had heard him. Finally she turned, but in the dimness he could not read her expression. “I appreciate your concern, Jack, but pray do not make promises you cannot keep.”

  “But I—”

  She put up a hand to silence him. “I knew of your reputation when I married you, Jack. In fact, it was one of the things that attracted me in the first place, as I’ve said before. When you told me that all debauchery was behind you, my first reaction was one of disappointment rather than relief. So it was quite absurd of me to become angry upon hearing evidence to the contrary. In fact, I should have been delighted.”

  “Delighted?” Far from following her reasoning, Jack felt completely out of his depth.

  She nodded. “My first marriage was deadly dull, not to mention terribly restricting. In agreeing to marry you, I consoled myself that an alliance with a rake—even a former rake—was bound to be more entertaining, allowing me the freedom to experience a side of life I had hitherto only dreamed of.”

  The vague uneasiness that had begun when Nessa first greeted him upon the stairs earlier crystallized into foreboding.

  “Imagine my dismay,” she continued airily, “when I discovered you were serious about becoming thoroughly respectable—for your grandfather’s sake—only days before our wedding. ’Twas nearly enough to make me cry off. But I’d become rather fond of you by then, so I chose to go through with it, contenting myself with our nightly … lessons.”

  “Contenting yourself?” he fairly exploded. “Don’t try to tell me you haven’t found our lovemaking as enjoyable as I have, for I’ll not believe it.” What on earth was he saying? He’d never had to defend himself in this manner to a woman before. Far from it!

  She laid a gloved hand on his cheek. “Oh, you’re very good in bed, Jack. Thoroughly skilled. I’ve enjoyed your instruction enormously.”

  “Honored to be of service, of course,” he said icily, not at all mollified. What had gotten into her?

  “Still, I’ll admit that playing the proper little wife all the rest of the time has been wearying—just the sort of thing I’d longed to escape. And now, I shall do just that. Really, Jack, I should be thanking you rather than hearing your apologies.”

  His foreboding deepened to dread. “What do you mean?”

  “Ah, here we are!” she exclaimed breezily, peering out of the window as the carriage pulled to a halt. She picked up her reticule. “Come, Jack, we have a full evening ahead of us.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Hazel! You look lovely tonight,” Nessa greeted Mrs. Beckhaven as she and Jack entered the moderately sized Townhouse. “I hope our last-moment acceptance of your invitation did not discommode you.”

  In fact, Nessa had initially declined this invitation, as they were already attending the embassy reception. Besides, the Beckhavens did not move in the best circles and therefore could not advance her goal of elevating the Foxhaven name. Now, however, her goal had changed.

  “Not at all, not at all! I’m so pleased that you could come after all, Lady Foxhaven,” replied her hostess, beaming all over her good-natured face.

  “Please, call me Nessa. I’m certain we shall become great friends.”

  Hazel Beckhaven’s eyes widened at this honor, sure to elevate her social standing. “That would be lovely … Nessa.”

  Jack bowed over her hand then, and they were ushered in for introductions to the rest of the company. It was a friendly, lively gathering, perfect for Nessa’s purposes.

  “Why, Sir Lawrence! I have not seen you for an age,” she greeted one of her former admirers.

  As handsome and eager as ever, the young gentleman stepped forward to kiss her hand. “You are more lovely than ever, my lady. I was never more devastated than when I learned that Lord Foxhaven had taken you from us. Now at least I may worship from afar.”

  “At least that,” she said playfully, flirting her fan, before turning to greet another slight acquaintance. She carefully avoided looking in Jack’s direction, for fear her resolve might waver. She was determined to enjoy herself this evening.

  And every other evening to come.

  While she planned to follow the spirit of Prudence’s advice to win back her husband, she fully intended to have a lovely time doing it—and give him back a bit of his own medicine into the bargain. After all, she’d just begun to kick up her heels a bit when Jack had offered for her, so it stood to reason that he found that side of her—the scandalous side she’d always denied—attractive.

  “Might I lead you in to dinner, my lady?” asked young Sir Lawrence at her elbow. Spotting Jack out of the corner of her eye conversing with Mr. Beckhaven and the Norvilles, Nessa consented.

  Mrs. Beckhaven had dispersed her guests about the table so that no gentleman sat with his wife, encouraging a greater variety of conversation. Nessa found herself with Lord Norville on her left and Mr. Pottinger, another erstwhile admirer, on her right. Sir Lawrence was directly across from her, and Jack two places to his left. Quite satisfactory.

  “I cannot tell you how delighted I am to see you in Town again, my lady,” Mr. Pottinger said as the soup was served. “I quite feared Lord Foxhaven meant to keep you tucked away in the country, depriving us of your sparkling presence.”

  Nessa gave him what she hoped was a sparkling smile. “I should never have allowed that, I assure you, Mr. Pottinger. I’m far too fond of Town life.”

  He tilted his graying head in Jack’s direction. “Ah, but men of your husband’s—ahem—stamp are so well versed in the temptations London holds that they are inclined to overprotect their wives when they eventually marry—particularly when the wife is as lovely as yourself.”

  “You are too kind, sir,” she murmured. “I know from experience, however, that upstanding gentlemen are also prone to immure their wives in the country, to keep them safe from the pleasures of London.”

  He responded with a loud, braying laugh, as though she had just imparted some clever witticism rather than the simple truth, and she abruptly remembered why she had not encouraged Mr. Pottinger last fall. Still she smiled, since Jack was watching them from just down the table.

  When the fish was served, she turned her attention to Lord Norville. He was an intelligent man of about Jack’s age, and a welcome relief from Mr. Pottinger’s vapid attempts at flirtation. She quietly asked him a few questions about the current iss
ues concerning Parliament, receiving sensible answers that helped her to understand what Jack had been doing there of late.

  She spent the meat course exchanging demurely flirtatious looks with Sir Lawrence across the table. That young man seemed in a fair way to becoming infatuated with her, which she might be able to use to her advantage.

  With the fowl and sweetmeats she again had to listen politely to Mr. Pottinger’s extravagant compliments, but she had the satisfaction of knowing that Jack was watching closely and doubtless trying to hear as much as possible.

  They adjourned to the drawing room just as the other guests began to arrive for the musicale. Sir Lawrence made a beeline to Nessa’s side, but Jack was quicker.

  “I’ve a mind to sit with my wife during the performance, if you don’t mind,” he said, taking her arm. His voice was pleasant, but Nessa detected a steely glint in his eye.

  Sir Lawrence, clearly flustered, took himself off. “Certainly, certainly. Don’t hesitate to call upon me, my lady, should you need me at any time.”

  Nessa smiled after her young gallant, but Jack growled, “Don’t encourage the lad. He’ll develop a grande passion for you, and I’d be obliged to put a bullet through him at twelve paces.”

  “My lord!” exclaimed Nessa, both astonished and amused. “Surely you cannot consider poor Sir Lawrence any sort of threat?”

  Jack merely snorted.

  Her plan was proceeding quite nicely.

  There was no further opportunity for private conversation until they were back in their carriage some two hours later, en route to the Russian embassy.

  “It must be nearly midnight,” complained Jack with a yawn, leaning back against the squabs. “Must we really put in an appearance at this thing?”

  Nessa was feeling a bit tired herself, but immediately sat up straighter. “Why, is this the Jack Ashecroft I heard so much about? The man who diced and drank till dawn every night of the week? I hope married life has not taken all the fire out of you, my lord.”