The Scandal in Kissing an Heir

by Sophie Barnes

  Leaning forward just a little, he peered around the edge of the doorway and went still as he spotted the silhouette of a slim man. He was hunched over and obviously searching for something. Daniel squinted. He had to be sure of the man’s identity before he revealed himself to him, so he waited, not even realizing until his chest began to ache that he’d been holding his breath. He exhaled and the man straightened, then turned, as if trying to work out where to look next. For the briefest second, Daniel caught a glimpse of his eyes as they glistened through the darkness.

  Supporting his weight on his walking stick, Daniel stepped out of the doorway and pulled a small, oval-shaped object from his coat pocket. “Looking for this?” he asked, his voice resonating against the brick walls of the alley.

  There was a beat, and then the silent sound of a man attempting to work out how to evade capture. “Who goes there?” Grover asked. The tremor in his voice betrayed the composed sense of calm he was aiming for.

  “A ghost perhaps?” Daniel offered as he moved slowly toward him, step by step. “After all, I was shot and buried. For all intents and purposes, I am dead.”

  “Not dead enough,” Grover bit out, his previous tone of uncertainty turning to anger.

  Daniel chuckled. “No, I suppose you must be somewhat disappointed with that.”

  They were close now, so close that Daniel could make out the features on Grover’s face, from the hawklike nose to the drawn cheeks and thin lips. “My wife was right about you, wasn’t she?” he asked, noticing how Grover’s eyes turned to slits at the mention of Rebecca. “You are dangerously obsessed with her and will stop at nothing until you make her your own. Am I right?”

  “She belongs to me, Neville. I paid good money for the right to bed her. If anyone is in the wrong, it is you—you stole her from me!”

  “I saved her from an existence that she had no desire to endure,” Daniel said, his own anger rising at the thought of Rebecca having to lay with this man. “And if you must know, it was she who devised this brilliant plan to have you proven guilty of attempted murder.”

  “Ha! And how will you do that, Neville? I am a duke and you’re a careless, womanizing scamp. Nobody will take your word over mine.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Daniel asked, enjoying the fleeting look of fear in Grover’s eyes. He held up the small, oval-shaped object again, affording Grover a good look at it. It was the miniature of Rebecca. “She told you I had this on me when I ‘died’ and that it had been lost, but she didn’t tell you where in London I was shot. You knew though, because you were the one who shot me. You knew where to look for the miniature, such a personal item belonging to the woman who haunts your every thought . . . we were certain you’d want to have it for yourself, just as much as you want to have her.”

  Cold fury flashed in Grover’s eyes. “I will see you in your grave, Neville.” Moving surprisingly fast for his age, Grover made a grab for the miniature, his long fingers curling around it and snatching it out of Daniel’s grasp with a mad laugh of victory. “You won’t leave here alive, you good-for-nothing scoundrel,” he said as he stepped back and pulled a pistol from his pocket. “Not this time.”

  “You’re wrong about that, Your Grace,” a deep voice said as a broad-shouldered man rounded a corner and stepped into the alley behind Grover. It was the magistrate, accompanied by a constable and two runners. “I suggest you put your weapon down and step away from Mr. Neville, or the constable here will have no choice but to fire.”

  “You have two options, Your Grace,” came a voice from behind Daniel. It was Landborough, who’d closed off the other end of the alley together with Lord Wolvington, making any attempt at escape impossible. “You can either be tried by your peers, or you can flee this country, never to return. From what I hear, America is lovely this time of year. If you choose the first option however, I advise you to consider that I shall be one of the men deciding your fate.”

  A crazed look came over Grover’s eyes, and Daniel took an involuntary step back as he realized the duke’s intent. He had no plan of surrendering but would take his shot and suffer the consequences, even if it meant death. Holy hell! Daniel had considered this outcome of course, but as he watched Grover raise his pistol with a menacing snarl on his lips, he was beginning to think that the plan might not have been as great as he’d initially thought.

  He was just beginning to ready himself for the blazing pain about to tear through him once more when a loud crack ripped through the air, followed closely by a second. If he’d been shot, he felt remarkably well. Daniel blinked, the sound of gunfire still ringing in his ears as he stared back at Grover, whose snarl had now twisted into an awful grimace. Dropping his pistol so it clattered against the ground, the duke clutched at his arm. “You bloody bastards,” he said as the constable and runners came up behind him, intent on taking him away. He struggled against them only briefly before giving up, the pain in his arm where the constable had shot him an obvious ailment. “Your sister was lucky that I bothered with her at all, Landborough—willful chit that she is.”

  Landborough stepped forward, his eyes dark with rage. “Whatever punishment you receive, I will never think it sufficient. You ought to hang for your transgressions.”

  “And I probably would have had you not wished to avoid scandal. But if there was one thing that I knew I could count on, it was that you wouldn’t want anyone to discover what really happened at your home that day.”

  “Be silent, Grover,” the magistrate warned, “or I might be tempted to leave you here alone for a few minutes with only Landborough and Neville to keep you company.”

  Daniel glanced toward Landborough, impressed by the man’s ability to restrain himself. Daniel didn’t know exactly what had happened to the duke’s sister, but from what little Grover had said, it was clearly worse than what he’d done to Rebecca. Jaw clenched, Daniel watched as the constable and runners led Grover away. “Thank you,” he told the magistrate. “I trust you’ll see to it that he never troubles us again?”

  “You can count on it,” the magistrate said. He then bid everyone a good night and disappeared after the others.

  “I owe you a debt of gratitude as well,” Daniel told Landborough.

  “Likewise,” the duke said. “I can finally rest easy knowing that he will not go unpunished. You’re a good man, Neville. The ton is wrong about you, and I for one am proud to call you a friend.”

  “You do me great honor, Your Grace. Perhaps you and your wife would like to dine at Avern House tomorrow evening?”

  “Only if you promise to call me Landborough instead of Your Grace.”

  Daniel grinned. “I believe I can manage that,” he said.

  “You did well, Daniel,” his uncle said as he slapped him on the shoulder a few minutes later, “and by this time next week, word will have it that you’re a hero for uncovering a cold-blooded killer in our midst. Just leave it to me, and I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Thank you,” Daniel said, not so much for his own sake but for Rebecca’s. He wanted her to be welcomed into Society, and with a little help from those around them, he believed that this would happen sooner than he or Rebecca had expected a week ago.

  “No need,” his uncle said. “You deserve everyone’s respect for what you’ve achieved. The way in which you’ve managed to reform in so little time is truly remarkable.”

  “As far as I recall, you gave me little choice.”

  His uncle grinned. “No, I suppose not, though I must admit that I wasn’t convinced you’d manage to prove yourself worthy of the Wolvington title. I have never been happier to have been proven wrong.”

  It was a simple declaration, but it was one that went straight to Daniel’s heart. “Rebecca and I are going to try to publish a book together,” he said as they strolled back to the awaiting Wolvington carriage. “Lord Winston—Kingsborough’s brother—owns a publishing hous
e. I plan to speak with him to see if we can work something out.”

  His uncle met his gaze and smiled. “Sounds like a marvelous idea, Daniel. She’s been good for you, and she’s done what no one else was capable of—she’s made a respectable man out of you. I daresay she’s quite remarkable and a fine addition to our family.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” Daniel said as he thought of the woman who was waiting for him at home. He was suddenly quite desperate to see her again. “She’s a splendid painter, by the way.”

  “Is she now?”

  Daniel nodded. “And a brilliant actress. She knows several of Shakespeare’s plays by heart, and while she can’t really carry a tune, her wit and kindness are in such ample supply that a man will never find himself in ill humor whenever she is near.” Good God, he couldn’t seem to stop himself from singing her praises now that he’d begun.

  He was just about to start on her show of bravery outside Riley’s and how well she’d cared for him after he’d been shot, but he stopped himself, noticing that his uncle was finding it difficult to hide his mirth. “Heaven above,” Wolvington said, “if you’re not completely and utterly in love with her.”

  “Of course I am,” Daniel said. “It’s impossible not to be.”

  His uncle’s smile fell away, and he leveled his nephew with a serious stare. “Even more reason for me to be happy for you, Daniel. I can’t wait to tell your aunt. She’ll be ever so pleased as well.” His smile returned and he nodded toward the carriage. “Now, how about if we get you back to Avern House as quickly as we can so you can be with your wife? I’m sure she’s eagerly awaiting an account of everything that’s happened.”

  Daniel was sure of it, and as he leaned back against the swabs of the Wolvington carriage, grateful for a chance to sit down and rest his legs, all he could think of was that the carriage wasn’t moving nearly fast enough. He was suddenly rather impatient to be with his wife.

  Chapter 28

  “You could have died,” Rebecca said when Daniel finished telling her about what had happened. After seeing how tired he’d looked upon returning home, she’d insisted that he get into bed right away, which he’d done without argument. Laura and Molly had brought them some food, and as they’d eaten, Daniel had answered all of Rebecca’s questions. She felt sick knowing how close they’d come to disaster, her eyes burning at the possibility of her husband’s body lying lifeless in the street if Grover had managed to take better aim. “It was a foolish plan, one that could have gotten you killed.”

  “But it didn’t,” Daniel said. “Yes, there was risk involved—more so than I realized, I’ll admit. I didn’t think that he would actually try and kill me with witnesses present, but I was wrong.” He shook his head. “You should have seen the look in his eyes, Becky. It was inhuman.”

  Rebecca nodded. “I’m just thankful that it’s over now so we can go on with our lives in peace.” Heart beating in her chest, she said, “But first, I must tell you of my own encounter with Grover.” Distancing herself emotionally from the unpleasant experience she’d had with the duke earlier in the day, she recounted every detail of their conversation and the way in which Grover had forced his advances upon her. “I’m so sorry,” she finally said, her eyes burning with the onset of tears. Somehow, she’d managed to maintain a measure of calm until now, but telling Daniel about the experience was forcing her to confront the depravity of it.

  Daniel clenched his jaw. His eyes had grown dark with fury. “I’m sorry that you had to endure his company for even a second, but at least he no longer poses a threat.” Finished with her food and relieved that her husband didn’t blame her for having been alone with Grover even though he’d specifically insisted she not be, Rebecca put her tray aside and climbed up onto the bed next to Daniel, putting her head against his shoulder. “We’ve been through a lot together these past few weeks,” she said.

  He took her hand in his and gave it a gentle squeeze, then kissed the top of her head and whispered, “That we have, Becky, but I do believe we’re stronger because of it.”

  “Lord Winston to see you,” Hawkins announced two days later as he stepped into the parlor where Rebecca and Daniel were sitting.

  It was getting easier for Daniel to move about. He no longer required assistance when going up and down the stairs, for which he was grateful. He rose now to greet Winston. “I hope you’ll forgive me for not coming to see you at your place of business,” he said as he stuck out his hand, “but I’m afraid I’m still having a bit of trouble getting around.”

  Winston shook his hand and frowned. “From what I read in the paper, I understand that Grover shot you.”

  “That’s right,” Daniel said. “Hurt like the devil.”

  “I can only imagine,” Winston said with a shake of his head. “Hopefully it’s not becoming a family habit.” He looked to Rebecca, who was standing beside Daniel, and bowed. “Congratulations on your recent marriage, Lady Rebecca. You are looking much better than when I last saw you.”

  Rebecca looked puzzled, so Daniel clarified. “Lord Winston was there when you were shot. He offered his assistance.”

  “Thank you, Lord Winston. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Rebecca said as she beamed at the man before her.

  He smiled in return. “Likewise.”

  “If you would please have a seat,” Daniel said, gesturing toward an armchair.

  “A maid will be in shortly with some tea,” Rebecca added, “unless of course you would prefer a glass of claret, or perhaps some brandy?”

  “Tea will be fine, thank you,” Lord Winston replied as he sank back into his chair and crossed his legs. He looked at Rebecca and Daniel in turn and then finally said, “I must say that I think it very fitting that the two of you should end up together. You seem to be extraordinarily well suited for each other.”

  Rebecca blinked. Well, that was unexpected. She tried to think of an appropriate response, but Daniel beat her to it, saying simply, “Allowing her to marry the Duke of Grover just wouldn’t do.”

  Lord Winston looked suddenly grim. “No, I daresay he would have been the death of her. If any man can kill a woman’s spirit, it is surely he.”

  “Thank you for your support, Lord Winston,” Rebecca finally managed. “It is reassuring to know that we have your support.”

  The corner of Lord Winston’s mouth edged upward. “I can assure you that my wife agrees with me. There is no question that it would have been a pity to see you married to Grover.” He tilted his head. “The ton can be very judgmental. Especially against those who veer away from what is expected, and let’s be honest, you did embarrass the duke quite thoroughly, no question about that.”

  “And we eloped,” Daniel said with a hint of mischief in his voice.

  “Yes, you did,” Lord Winston said, “though I suppose one might say that you rescued the lady from a fate worse than that of marrying a rake.”

  “That is precisely what he did,” Rebecca said. She’d grown tired of everyone thinking the worst of them—of Daniel in particular. What a relief it had been to have his name cleared in the Mayfair Chronicle the day after Grover had been arrested. “My aunt and uncle practically put me up for bid.”

  Lord Winston frowned. “I must confess that I never liked Grover or the Griftons, if you’ll excuse my saying so.” His eyes met Rebecca’s.

  “No need for that, my lord. I can assure you that I was never very fond of them myself,” she said.

  There was a measure of sadness in Lord Winston’s eyes as he nodded in understanding. “Nevertheless, I didn’t think them capable of such cruelty—of forcing you to marry a man like Grover for their own selfish gain.”

  There was a soft knock at the door and Molly entered, carrying a tray, which she set down on the table before placing a cup and saucer in front of each of them. She left with her usual cheerful smile and a bob, after which Re
becca took it upon herself to serve the gentlemen their tea.

  “It hasn’t been easy for her, I can assure you,” Daniel said with an edge of protectiveness that wrapped itself around Rebecca’s heart. “But it has given her the opportunity to explore her creative talents. I think that you will be quite impressed.”

  Rebecca felt her stomach quake in much the same way it had when Daniel had asked to see the rest of her paintings. She’d never shown them to anyone, not even Laura, though Rebecca suspected that her maid must have caught the occasional glimpse; if Laura had, however, she’d kept quiet about it. Painting was a common pastime activity for ladies to engage in, but most of them favored landscapes and still life, certainly not the otherworldly creatures Rebecca had conjured, for as she’d later revealed to Daniel, she hadn’t painted only fairies but goblins and giants as well. Sharing these with others and making herself susceptible to judgment made her so nervous that for once she was completely unable to utter a word or to smile. So she just sat there quietly clutching her hands together in her lap while Daniel passed the draft of their book over to Winston.

  Hoping to calm herself, Rebecca took a sip of her tea and watched as Lord Winston leafed through the pages. She tried to judge his opinion by studying his face, but his expression was inscrutable—not a smile or a frown, just intense professional perusal.

  He eventually looked up and stared across at Rebecca with the utmost seriousness.

  Oh dear.

  He didn’t like it. Her pictures were too sketchlike—scribbles, just as she’d told Daniel. Her stomach quivered, and she feared for a fleeting moment that she might be ill. This was why she didn’t want anyone else to see her cherished pictures. She couldn’t stand the idea of anyone scrutinizing them and was suddenly quite annoyed with Daniel for talking her into this foolish endeavor. “Not quite what you expected, is it?” she said dryly as she reached out to snatch the pages back from Lord Winston so she could tuck them away somewhere safe.