A Winter Scandal

by Candace Camp

  “Traitor,” Thea breathed, and walked over to hand him to Morecombe. She had no desire to meet Gabriel’s eyes, but she made herself do it. She refused to be a coward.

  “I don’t pretend to know why you have decided to—to act in this way.”

  “In what way?” He looked puzzled.

  She shot him a quelling look. “Please, my lord, I think we both know what occurred in the entry. There is no need to spell it out.”

  “Ah. What happened in the entry. I see. You want an explanation?”

  “No! There is no need for that. But I must point out that you seem to have acquired a very incorrect notion about me and my … my standards of conduct.”

  The baby was squirming in his arms, and Morecombe lowered him to the floor, then turned back to Thea. “Indeed, Miss Bainbridge? And what notion is that?”

  She glared at him. “That I would be open to—to your advances.”

  Again that engaging little smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “I believe you were open to my advances … at least a bit.”

  “My lord, I am not a woman of easy virtue. Doubtless you are so accustomed to being with such women that you do not realize the difference.”

  “I never thought you a woman of easy virtue. Indeed, I suspect that your virtue is as hard as Cotswold stone. That does not mean I can’t choose to chip away at it.”

  “This is not a laughing matter!” Thea’s temper flared. “My reputation may mean nothing to you, but it is very important to me.”

  “Your reputation means a great deal to me, I assure you. I would never try to damage it, my dear—may I call you Althea? Miss Bainbridge seems a bit formal for two who have shared as much as we.”

  “No. You may not.”

  “You see? Hard as stone.”

  “While you may not try to damage my reputation, you certainly have no care for it. A true gentleman would not go about stealing kisses.”

  “Stealing? Seems fair payment for hanging the ornament, wouldn’t you say?”

  “One does not pay for a favor. That is not the issue, anyway.”

  “What is the issue? I thought we were talking about kisses.”

  “We are! Or rather, we are talking about the fact that you acted in a way that was not only improper but quite reckless. It is the middle of the day, and we were standing in our entry!”

  “Ah, I see. You prefer your kisses at night and in some more secret place.” He smiled, his eyes lighting. “Believe me, I shall be happy to oblige.”

  “No!” The scraps of composure Thea had pulled together were rapidly slipping away. The merry gleam in his eyes, the tempting curve of his mouth, the sheer enjoyment that stamped his face, all beckoned her. She was aware of a rather frightening impulse to forget her upbringing and throw herself back into his arms. But that would be sheer madness. “I am not saying you should kiss me at some other time and place. I am saying you should not kiss me at all!”

  “I don’t see why I would agree to do that. I quite enjoyed kissing you.”

  “Anyone could have walked in on us at any moment! My brother. Mrs. Brewster. Sally.”

  “I passed your brother on the street as I came over, so I knew he was not here. I could hear Mrs. Brewster in the kitchen. And I haven’t the slightest idea who Sally is or why I should worry about her.”

  “She is the girl who comes in to help Mrs. Brewster, and she could have walked in on us.”

  “But she did not.”

  “That isn’t the point!” She looked down and found that the baby had managed to roll and squirm his way over to the footstool. “How in the world did you get over there? No, dear, don’t chew on the fringe.” Thea swooped down and picked Matthew up, relocating him on the rug a few feet away. Turning back to face Gabriel, she straightened her shoulders. Putting some distance between them helped, she found. “Never mind. I can see that it is useless to try to reason with you.”

  “No doubt.”

  Thea clasped her hands together and adopted a polite expression. “Now. What brings you here today? I presume you had some reason for calling.”

  “Other than kissing you?”

  “Lord Morecombe!” She gritted her teeth. The man was impossible. And it was difficult not to laugh.

  “I apologize. I could not resist; I enjoy the sparkle in your eyes when you get in a temper.”

  Thea crossed her arms and waited, her expression grimly patient.

  “Very well. I came to ask for your help.”

  Thea’s brows shot up. “My help? In what way.”

  “I considered what you said, and I cannot deny that you have a point. I must employ a nursemaid for Matthew and acquire some other female servants as well. But I haven’t the slightest idea where to begin, and the butler is someone I hired in London, so he has little knowledge of the area, either. It occurred to me that someone who had grown up in the village, who knew everyone, and who was, as well, a pillar of rectitude and morality would be the perfect person to help me in such an endeavor.”

  “Are you asking me to hire servants for you?”

  “Well, I would hire them, obviously. But your advice on who might be a likely candidate would be a great help. And if you were to perhaps join me in interviewing said candidates, I would be most grateful. Also, and perhaps more important, I need to discover whether anyone in the village might have seen or even spoken with whoever left young Matthew in the church. Who could be more valuable in that regard than the vicar’s sister, the woman who clearly hears all the latest gossip?”

  “Oh. Well.” Only an hour ago she had been wishing she knew what Lord Morecombe was doing to find Matthew’s mother, and now here he was, offering to include her in it. She could not suppress the grin now. “I suppose we could ask Mrs. Brewster who might be available to act as a nursemaid. My knowledge of the village pales by comparison with Mrs. Brewster’s, I assure you.”

  “Excellent.” Gabriel smiled back at her, his eyes warm with approval, and Thea could not help but wonder how many other women had hastened to do as he asked, just to win that smile again.

  She did not plan to be one of them, Thea told herself firmly as she turned and whisked Matthew up from the floor. It was her own curiosity and her desire to help the baby that drove her to join Lord Morecombe in his search, not any hope of pleasing Morecombe.

  They found Mrs. Brewster in the kitchen, beating egg whites in a bowl. She pursed her mouth thoughtfully as she whipped the whisk through the whites, pausing to inspect the foam, then launching into another attack as she talked. “Well, there’s Maggie Cooper; her youngest is old enough that her oldest girl could take care of him, but she wouldn’t do if you’re wanting to have her stay through the night.”

  “I would prefer that,” Lord Morecombe told her.

  Mrs. Brewster eyed him for a moment before saying carefully, “Are you talking ’bout taking the little one to your house, then?”

  Humor lit Gabriel’s eyes. “I assure you, I intend to make the place fit for female servants. Miss Bainbridge has informed me already that my household is generally regarded as a den of iniquity.”

  “And until such time as the Priory is suitable,” Thea added, “the baby and his nursemaid will stay here. She can sleep in the extra bedroom at the end of the hall.”

  The housekeeper nodded. “Lolly Havers might do.”

  “Ned Havers’s girl?” Thea asked. “Why, she’s not even eighteen yet.”

  “Aye. But she’s looked after the younger ones most her life. And I reckon as she’d be glad to have a room of her own and make a mite of money for minding the one baby.”

  Thea nodded. “True. And she does seem to have a level head for a girl her age.”

  It was soon arranged that Mrs. Brewster would send for the girl while Lord Morecombe and Thea started their search for the missing mother. Leaving Matthew in the housekeeper’s care, Thea and Gabriel set out. The day was crisp, but the sun was shining down weakly, and it was, Thea thought, a beautiful day. She glanced up at
the man beside her. She wondered what he was thinking, how his mind worked. He was completely foreign to her, unlike any of the other men she knew. Did he find her hopelessly provincial and naïve? Thea could well imagine the sort of sophisticated, beautiful women he must be acquainted with. They would know how to flirt and bedazzle him—not that she was interested in doing those things, but still, it must be nice to know how. The ladies he was used to would have gone to plays and operas and seen all sorts of places that Thea could only dream about. Glittering with jewels, dressed in the finest silks instead of a serviceable wool walking dress, such women would know all the latest on-dits and be able to discuss the events of the city.

  What did she know? How Mrs. Gathers’s daughter-in-law was recovering from her bout with catarrh or how many years it had been since old Mr. Adams had graced the church with his presence because he and Thea’s father had had a falling-out over a certain Sunday sermon? Oh, and books; Thea had consumed a number of them over the years. But somehow she suspected that Lord Morecombe was not a bookish man.

  As if feeling her gaze on him, Morecombe turned his head and raised his eyebrows quizzically. “What? You look as if you are contemplating very deep thoughts, indeed.”

  Embarrassed at being caught staring, Thea shrugged. “I was wondering what your plans are. How do you intend to set about finding Matthew’s mother?”

  “The Blue Boar seems the likeliest place to start.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought you would need any introduction to anyone at the tavern,” Thea commented drily.

  He chuckled. “You have me there. I do know Malcolm Hornsby well enough to ask him a few questions, and I shall do so. But it is the visitors to the inn that interest me more than the ones in the tavern. And there Mrs. Hornsby reigns supreme. I feel sure that you will be able to get a great deal more out of her than I. She looks at me in a decidedly disapproving way—much the way you do, actually.”

  “She has three daughters,” Thea explained, ignoring his comment about her. “And while that makes mothers of eligible girls like the Squire’s daughters view you with great hope, it makes mothers of ineligible ones want to keep you far away—if they value their daughters’ happiness and virtue, that is.”

  “You make me sound like a most despicable man. I really am not such a lecher, you know. I don’t make it a habit to go about seducing innocent maidens.”

  “Then what do you call kissing me?” Thea shot back.

  “I call that an unexpected delight.” A slow smile curved his lips, his eyes lighting with an unmistakable warmth. “One I wouldn’t mind experiencing again. But, trust me, it was not a seduction.”

  Whatever thoughts Thea had had in her head immediately fled. Her mouth was suddenly dry and her lips tingled. She was aware that she should give him a sharp setdown, but all she could think of was the heat that blossomed deep in her abdomen at his words. What would a seduction by Gabriel Morecombe be like?

  Thea looked away, afraid of what he might read in her face. She cleared her throat. “This is scarcely a suitable topic of conversation.”

  “I know. Fun, isn’t it?”

  Thea closed her mouth on a gurgle of laughter. She would have liked to have retorted an unequivocal no, but she was not given to lying. In truth it was fun to be bandying words back and forth about such an illicit subject. It was exciting, even just a bit dangerous, and just beneath the surface bubbled the remembered heat and temptation of Gabriel’s kiss—that slow turn of heat and desire, the hunger and ache that opened within her, the messy, tumultuous mix of emotions.

  He bent his head a little, craning to see her face. “Have I offended you, Miss Bainbridge?”

  “Your words would offend any decent woman.”

  “A curiously ambiguous reply.”

  Thea could hear the smile in Gabriel’s tone. Try as she might, she could not keep from shooting a quick, challenging glance at him. “Well. Then I suppose you will just have to discover what I mean.”

  Seven

  The wife of the inn’s owner was a short, slender woman who looked as if she had never indulged in eating her own rich cooking. Possessed of a seemingly unending well of energy, she drove her family and staff to perform with the same tireless perfection she achieved. The quality of her meals and the cleanliness and comfort of the inn’s rooms were indisputable, and it was said that some went out of their way to spend a night at the Blue Boar.

  She bustled forward to greet Thea, bobbing a curtsy and saying, “Miss Bainbridge, ’tis a pleasure to see you. Can I help you?” She cast a brief, curious glance toward Lord Morecombe. “My lord.”

  “Mrs. Hornsby.” Gabriel nodded to her politely. “Perhaps we could have a cold collation in one of the private rooms. And if you would be so good as to join us …”

  The woman’s brows rose with each statement, but she only nodded and led them to the best private dining room before hurrying off to see to their meal. Thea turned to face Gabriel, crossing her arms and regarding him coolly. “A cold collation? I thought we were here to ask questions, not eat.”

  “I was feeling a mite peckish, and quite frankly, Mrs. Hornsby’s food surpasses my cook’s. Though pray don’t let that get back to Mrs. Cutledge or my bread will be soggier and the soup colder than ever. Besides, I have found that people are more apt to give one information if one has remunerated them in some way.”

  A serving girl entered the room, bearing a tray of food, followed by Mrs. Hornsby with a smaller tray containing cups and pitchers. The first few minutes were occupied in arranging the collection of cold meats, cheeses, and breads on the table before them, with a tureen of soup as the centerpiece.

  “Now, then, my lord, how can I help you?” Mrs. Hornsby asked, pouring wine.

  “I am looking for someone who might have stayed here in the past few days. Probably a woman, maybe a man or a couple. They would have had a baby with them.”

  “A baby?” The innkeeper’s wife set down her pitcher and looked sharply at Thea. “Are you talking about that babe you found in the manger, miss?”

  “You know about him?” Lord Morecombe paused in lifting his glass. “Was he here?”

  The middle-aged woman shook her head. “Oh, no, my lord, I just heard about it. A miracle, that’s what Liza Cooper says—little Lord Jesus himself appearing.”

  “Well, I don’t think Matthew is our Lord and Savior,” Thea replied. “Just a baby abandoned in a place where they knew he would be warm and soon found.”

  “That’s what I said.” Mrs. Hornsby nodded. “A miracle for the baby, though, you coming on it right away. Even inside like that, it can get powerful cold at night without a fire.”

  “The thing is,” Thea went on, “we are trying to find out who left the baby there.”

  “I see.” Mrs. Hornsby nodded, though she stole another curious glance at Lord Morecombe. “Well, there wasn’t anyone with a babe spending the night here, miss. I can’t remember last time someone came through with a wee one, must have been weeks.”

  “Do you think it’s possible the child belongs to someone who lives around here?” Thea asked.

  “I can’t see how. Hard to keep a secret like that in Chesley. There’s been a few babies born here the past year—how old is it, do you think?”

  “Mrs. Brewster said she thought he was probably six or seven months old. So he would have been born in the late spring or early summer, I suppose.”

  Mrs. Hornsby nodded. “The Johnsons’ wee one died right after it was born, you know. The Stouts’ baby passed on two months ago. And Dora Potts would cut off her right arm rather than give up that child of hers.”

  “I have never seen the baby before. I can’t believe that he is from Chesley.”

  “Another town maybe,” Mrs. Hornsby suggested. “Bynford or Nyebourne. Or it could have been a stranger just passing through—left the baby and kept on walking.”

  “What if the person did not stay at your inn?” Morecombe asked. “Could they have rented a cottage? Or a r
oom in someone’s home?”

  “Not so as I’ve heard.” Mrs. Hornsby paused, considering. “I can ask around, get the mister to ask in the tavern. Mayhap somebody saw them on the road going or coming.”

  “I would appreciate it,” Gabriel told her, and smiled.

  Mrs. Hornsby smiled back, ducking her head, and bobbed another curtsy before she left the room.

  Gabriel settled back with a sigh and tore a piece from the loaf of bread. “Doesn’t sound promising, does it?” He looked at Thea. “Is she right? Is there nowhere else for someone to stay?”

  “I suppose the mother could be staying at a local house. I haven’t heard of anyone having visitors. Now and then I’ve heard of someone renting a room out, but not lately.” Thea paused. “We can visit Mrs. Williams after this if you’d like. She’s the greatest gossip in town. If anyone would know whether there has been a stranger staying in town, it would be she.”

  Mrs. Hornsby returned a few minutes later with the news that no one in the inn or tavern had seen anyone with a baby either in town or on the road. Nor had anyone noticed a stranger (or an unknown carriage) in town, except for the two people who had stayed at the inn the night before, who had not, she was certain, had a baby with them. She assured them, however, that she would continue to ask.

  With their meal finished and having gathered all the information they could, Thea and Gabriel left the inn and started toward Mrs. Williams’s cottage. As they walked, Thea said, “I was surprised, watching you talk with Mrs. Hornsby.”

  “Why?” He looked at Thea curiously.

  “You were at ease with her. Quite nice.”

  “Did you expect me not to be?”

  “I wasn’t sure. You said you wanted me along to help you with her. I thought perhaps you were unused to talking to ordinary people. And I thought you might act …”

  “Like an arrogant aristocrat?” he suggested.

  “Let’s just say, more like the man at the Squire’s party.”

  “I must have been a terrible guest that night.”