The Rake's Ruined Lady

by Mary Brendan - Society Scandals 01 - The Rake's Ruined Lady

  ‘You know that’s not true.’ Hugh unfolded an arm along the back of the seat. ‘I thought Burnett was the love of your life.’

  ‘So did I...’ Bea stifled a mournful giggle.

  ‘What has changed your mind?’

  ‘Sir Colin aired some unpleasant views and now my father and I have seen him in a different light.’

  ‘What did he say?’ There was an abrupt hardening in Hugh’s tone.

  ‘He told me that a gentleman’s daughter of my age should act with some decency and decorum.’ The admission trickled out of Bea as she gazed at the leaves fluttering overhead. In her opinion her former fiancé was a hypocrite to voice his disapproval when—whether in error or not—he’d abandoned her to better himself.

  ‘Was he criticising your behaviour with my brother?’

  ‘No...he was criticising my behaviour with you...’

  Chapter Nineteen

  ‘As I’ve been named in Burnett’s slander I think I should be told more about it.’

  Bea hesitated before blurting, ‘In short, Colin told me to avoid your company or suffer the consequences.’

  Hugh laughed soundlessly. ‘It sounds as though you championed me, Miss Dewey. Did you?’

  Bea fidgeted beneath his warm, humorous regard. ‘I didn’t find his lecture necessary. Neither did I like being told who I might choose as a friend.’

  ‘Am I your friend?’

  ‘I’m not sure any more,’ Bea said with bittersweet honesty. ‘Despite our squabbling, I’d like to think we were friends at least...if only for Elise and Alex’s sake. I know they’d like everybody to be harmonious.’

  ‘As I would, too,’ Hugh said. ‘But I’m aiming higher than harmony between us, Bea.’

  Bea turned doubtful blue eyes his way, remaining still as he raised a hand, smoothing the backs of his fingers over the silky dip beneath her cheekbone.

  His wooing touch was gone too soon; Hugh’s clenched fist dropped to his lap as a carriage rattled closer at quite a pace, its female occupants gawping inquisitively at them.

  ‘It’s getting too crowded,’ Hugh muttered. ‘I should have taken you somewhere else...just to talk, that’s all, I swear.’ He grimaced in self-mockery. ‘I know you think me a lecherous reprobate, and perhaps I have been. But I do understand it’s vital to sort out certain matters between us.’

  Bea gave him a small grateful smile and for the first time felt hopeful that things could come right between them.

  ‘I’m determined to kiss you...if nothing more...’ he groaned.

  I want you to... The unspoken response keened in Bea’s mind, making her dusky lashes droop over her soulful sapphire eyes.

  ‘I will before the day’s out,’ Hugh vowed, as though sensing her need. He stared moodily after the disappearing carriage, then suddenly jumped from the curricle and came round to open the door. ‘We’ll arouse less interest if we walk for a while.’

  Bea allowed him to hand her down, glad to stretch her legs but conscious of time passing. ‘I must go back soon. I said I wouldn’t be out shopping for long. I don’t want my papa to fret over my absence.’

  ‘How is your father?’

  ‘Tired and depressed...and it’s my fault,’ Bea admitted through a lump forming in her throat. ‘He wants to go home to Hertfordshire.’

  Hugh drew Bea’s hand through his arm as they strolled, his large palm warming her delicate fingers. ‘He’ll cheer up soon and perhaps choose to stay...’

  ‘No...he wants to go, and so do I.’

  ‘When are you planning to leave?’ he asked distantly.

  ‘In a few days’ time.’ She sensed his stare heating the top of her head.

  ‘In that case we’ve not much time.’

  ‘I know...’ Bea murmured, lowering her eyes and marshalling her thoughts. ‘I don’t want my papa to live out his days in straitened circumstances,’ she confided quietly. ‘Alex, being the good fellow he is, has naturally offered to set everything straight, but my father is too proud to let him. He is intending to sell his pension policy to settle my debts rather than accept help.’ She sighed. ‘You said you would deal with your brother, so I wrote that note to you. I can’t bear that Papa must suffer the consequences of my folly.’

  Having expressed her private heartache, Bea glanced at Hugh for a comment, but he remained worryingly quiet while escorting her to a bench. While she perched on the edge he remained standing, one foot raised and braced against the planks, his expression inscrutable.

  ‘And you? Can you bear to suffer the consequences of your folly?’ he asked solemnly, his eyes drifting away as though he were more interested in the verdant scenery than in having her answer.

  Very conscious of the breeched thigh close to her cheek, Bea darted her eyes from its muscular contours to his saturnine profile. She wanted him to look at her now they’d finally reached the purpose of this meeting: the wager she’d lost... But he remained aloof, giving no encouragement or comfort.

  It was only pride, she told herself as she tried to force words past the ache in her throat. Why could she not tell him that she craved his kisses and caresses? Why make it seem that he had her backed into a corner and she would acquiesce only reluctantly to his lovemaking?

  Hugh plunged a hand into a pocket and pulled forth some crumpled papers. He let them fall, one at a time, onto the seat.

  Bea glanced at her IOUs, then raised wide blue eyes to his preying gaze. ‘You have already paid Toby?’ she whispered. ‘You were very certain of your victory, then.’

  ‘I bought those days ago—long before I received your note.’

  Bea imagined that with such animosity between them Sir Toby would have extracted the best possible price for her markers.

  ‘How much did you pay him?’ she breathed.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Take them.’ He swooped on the notes, held them out, smiling sardonically when her fingers clasped together in her lap.

  ‘Are we not friends, then, Beatrice?’ Hugh gently taunted.

  Bea knew if she accepted the notes she would have tacitly agreed to their becoming lovers. When she’d left the house earlier she’d persuaded herself that having his promise of respect and affection was enough for her. Yet now...now the scene was real—not in an imaginary theatre in which she played the part of a tragic heroine.

  With those IOUs in her possession she must lie naked with a man...this man...for the first time, and allow him licence to do whatever he wanted...whatever she wanted... So he’d promised her weeks ago, when coarsely propositioning her.

  A sweet shiver raced through Bea but she flicked aside her face, forcing her mind to examine the dark side to her ruinous pleasure. Her ostracism from society was a mere breath away; so was her father’s despair. Discreet as she and Hugh might endeavour to be when they rendezvoused to make love, gossip would eventually reach Walter’s ears and break his heart.

  But there was more firing her indecision than the effects of her disgrace: she couldn’t bear to toss and turn jealously, wondering whose bed Hugh shared when he was absent from hers. He might say she was the woman with whom he was obsessed, but what about when the chase was done and he’d had his novice mistress? Would he grow restless and desire a new hunt? Or again visit paramours well versed in ways of pleasing him?

  Suddenly, and very bleakly, Bea realised that crumbs of his affection would never be enough when she was greedy for so much more. She wanted him to tell her that, like his friend before him, he too had given up carousing because he’d finally found a woman he could cherish and adore—the only one with whom he wanted to live his life and rear his children...

  ‘Nothing...’ Hugh said gruffly, having watched raw emotion flitting over Bea’s profile.

  His single word penetrated her mind and Bea raised an expression of wonderment to his face. ‘Toby gave up my IOUs for nothing?’

  ‘No... Toby wanted to be paid...’ Hugh removed his boot from the wooden bench and strode off a few paces. ‘Whereas I don’t. I’m n
ot expecting a thing from you.’

  ‘Why is that?’ Bea finally touched a finger to the IOUs, shifting them to and fro on the timber.

  ‘It’s what a gentleman does for a woman he cares about.’

  She’d heard that from him before, spoken with the same caustic inflection.

  Hugh glanced sideways at her, ramming his hands into his pockets. ‘Don’t look so scared, Beatrice,’ he said. ‘Stupid game, maybe, but you’ve won...hands down.’ He gazed across the park towards the water glistening in the afternoon sun. ‘I was going to have a servant deliver them to you tomorrow. I’d have brought them myself, but I know Alex might not want me darkening his doorstep.’

  ‘He is pining for your company. Elise said so.’ Bea collected the papers and put them in her pocket, then rose from the bench, joyous optimism unfurling in her breast. She had just glimpsed the gentleman Hugh had once been, before his good fortune turned him into a sophisticate.

  ‘Why would a rogue act with such chivalry and kindness?’ she asked with a hint of teasing.

  ‘I’ve been asking myself the same question,’ Hugh muttered, a cynical slant to his thin lips. But he avoided her eyes as she glided closer to him. ‘I owe it to you and your father. I let you down before, years ago, leading you into thinking I was in a position to propose.’ He gestured roughly. ‘I was a fool to ever want what I couldn’t afford.’

  ‘And now?’ The question sighed unbidden out of Beatrice.

  ‘And now I can afford whatever I damn well like...’ He turned ferocious golden eyes on her. ‘But some things can’t be bought, can they...?’

  ‘No...they can’t...’

  ‘Did Burnett offer to pay off your debts?’

  ‘He did...’

  ‘So why did you come to me?’

  ‘Colin said I must marry him. That was the deal he offered.’

  A mirthless sound scratched Hugh’s throat. ‘Trumps mine, I think,’ he muttered sourly.

  ‘Ask me why I could not accept him.’ Boldly Bea touched his abrasive chin with a finger to make him look at her when he would have turned away.

  ‘Are you again about to tell me that you’d sooner be Burnett’s mistress than my wife?’

  ‘Of course not! I regret that I ever made such a daft and dishonest statement.’ With dawning enlightenment she choked out, ‘Did you really believe I meant what I said?’

  Hugh stared at her, then stepped forward purposefully, as though intending to take her in his arms. Instead he gripped her wrist, tugging her behind a stout tree trunk. Before they were completely out of sight his mouth swooped on hers, brutally passionate, soothingly wooing. His fingers cradled her skull, protecting it from the rough bark as the pressure of his mouth forced back her head. The texture of timber was at her back, and his hard muscular body moulded about her softly curving silhouette, keeping her trapped to him. Inside her cloak, a hand stroked her hip...and Bea could sense the tremor in his caress...

  Hugh suddenly spun away from her and Bea, sensually dazed, clutched behind her at the bole of the tree to steady herself. The second time a cultured baritone boomed Hugh’s name Bea heard it through the blood pounding in her ears. Hastily she stepped into view, her heart in her mouth.

  Cursing beneath his breath, Hugh began to prowl casually over the grass, his raging frustration masked by an indolent expression.

  The approaching barouche slowed to a halt and Lord Whitley affably doffed his hat. The two women seated in the vehicle made no attempt to inject sincerity into their smiles.

  Maggie Monk resented Lord Whitley for having alerted the couple to their having been spotted. Another moment and she reckoned that refined Miss Dewey might have allowed the gentleman to sully her virtue beyond repair. Of course once the spinster knew about Hugh Kendrick’s brat she might no longer want to be taken down the aisle—or to bed—by him. Maggie was still determined her daughter would get the diamond magnate, but Whitley was first reserve so she was keen to keep him sweet.

  ‘Mr Kendrick...and Miss Dewey too! What a surprise to see you...together like that...’ Maggie slyly exchanged a knowing look with her daughter. Despite his mild manner Maggie could tell Hugh was enraged, and his conquest was rosy with embarrassment.

  ‘Fancy a nip of brandy, Kendrick?’ Lord Whitley held out his silver flask, hoping to lighten the heavy atmosphere. ‘Getting chilly now at this time of the day...’

  A lazy hand-flick was Hugh’s response. Unconcerned that his hospitality had been rejected, Lord Whitley took a swallow himself. Ordinarily he might have been on better behaviour in mixed company; but recently he’d had confirmed his idea that his female passengers were no ladies. And his suspicions about Miss Dewey’s character were growing.

  Yesterday Maggie Monk had accosted him as he emerged from his club. Whitley had not been surprised at her audacity, nor to learn that Burnett had jumped ship on marrying Miss Rawlings. It was plain that the girl was fashioned in looks and character to be a wench rather than a wife. Whitley was still mulling over Mrs Monk’s list of requirements. Before getting down to serious negotiation with the bawd he had brought the chit out to test her enthusiasm for it all.

  It seemed he’d interrupted Hugh Kendrick auditioning Beatrice Dewey for a similar role. Whitley was surprised such a proficient philanderer hadn’t headed to a more secluded spot for the seduction.

  Not long ago people had speculated about the reason for the animosity between Hugh Kendrick and Alex Blackthorne, but they no longer did so. All had become clear when Kendrick had rescued the viscount’s sister-in-law in that card game.

  Little wonder that Blackthorne was livid with his best chum for sullying Beatrice before she had a husband’s name to shield her reputation. It was the girl’s father that Whitley felt sorry for. The poor old fellow would be distraught if he heard that the wanton had been spotted kissing Kendrick behind a tree in Hyde Park.

  ‘Would you help me down, sir?’ Stella imperiously extended a hand to Hugh, eyes flashing challengingly at Beatrice. ‘I should like to rest on that pretty bench.’ Angry colour lit her cheeks when he appeared not to have heard her demand, and continued strolling to and fro, frowning into the distance.

  Having regained composure, Bea stepped forward, a wavering smile curving lips that still pulsed from being kissed. ‘I’m sure Mr Kendrick will escort you.’ She hoped Hugh would conquer his exasperation and play his part in smoothing over the situation. ‘You are quite right, Lord Whitley, the weather is cooler now.’ Bea rubbed together her gloved palms.

  Hugh had complied with her signal to help Stella onto the grass, but Bea knew she was in grave trouble if this excruciating episode wasn’t properly defused. She couldn’t be sure what the trio had witnessed, but was praying they’d seen no more than a couple standing close together in the shade of a tree.

  Stella dimpled up at Hugh. She’d yearned to bump into him by chance but had not wanted to see him embracing another woman. Her mother had made an attempt yesterday to waylay him and hint at her willingness to be his mistress. Stella had peeked from behind the window blind of a Hackney, but Hugh had barely stopped to talk to Maggie before striding impatiently on towards his house. Her mother had been grumpy on her return, insisting they waste no time in transferring their efforts to Lord Whitley as their little kitty was almost run through. Then today her mother had bucked up and, intriguingly, said she might have found a way to hook Hugh. But Maggie would give no more details of her plan to snare the gentleman Stella wanted above all others.

  ‘I’ll stretch my legs too, I think.’ Lord Whitley alighted in quite a sprightly hop, then offered to help Mrs Monk down.

  ‘I was saying to Mr Kendrick that I should love a drive in his racing curricle.’ Stella turned excitedly to her mother.

  ‘I’m sure the charming gentleman will oblige you with your wish, my dear.’ Maggie’s lips knotted in satisfaction. Her daughter was playing her part well, with no rehearsal.

  ‘Unfortunately I have no time,’ Hugh began coldly, removi
ng Stella’s clutch from his elbow. ‘We were just leaving as Miss Dewey is expected home shortly.’

  ‘Oh...I can run that errand for you, Kendrick. Why not take Miss Rawlings for a spin? Do you object, my dear, to me taking you home?’ Lord Whitley turned gleaming eyes on Beatrice, confident she’d snatch at his proposal to avoid further embarrassment. Beatrice might be older than Stella, but she had a rare classic beauty and a figure that Whitley would pay handsomely to see naked. If Kendrick tired of her, Whitley would, with alacrity, take his cast-off.

  ‘It would be kind of you to drop me off, my lord.’

  Bea ignored her sinking heart; she and Hugh had no option but to appear nonchalant on parting but there was so much left to say to him, she thought wistfully as she allowed her elderly escort to help her climb aboard the barouche. With a wave they set off, and she noticed that neither Hugh nor Stella glanced at the departing vehicle.

  But Mrs Monk did, and it seemed to Beatrice that there was something vilely triumphant in her smile.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘I told you Kendrick was a good fellow.’ Walter beamed at his daughter, picking over the IOUs spread on his lap. ‘It’s my lucky day...I received Burnett’s bank draft while you were out.’

  Bea smiled on hearing that Colin had eventually paid her father. ‘You don’t mind that a gentleman has settled my gambling debts, Papa?’

  On reaching home, Bea had immediately gone to see her father to ease his worries—and hers. She wanted his reassurance that he had not yet brokered his pension but had kept it safe.

  ‘Kendrick isn’t any gentleman—is he, my dear? He’s the scoundrel’s brother, so his family’s honour is at stake. I shouldn’t like kin of mine to act in such a despicable way. I’ll wager he gave Sir Toby a cracking facer before parting with his cash.’ Walter chortled, neatening the notes into a stack. ‘Of course Kendrick should have dealt with me when handing them over...but that’s a minor peccadillo compared to all those that have gone before.’

  That bald fact brought a remorseful blush to his daughter’s wan cheeks so he gave her a smile.