Never Trust a Scoundrel

by Gayle Callen

  He leaned a little too close. “She won’t stop me for long,” he whispered.

  She smiled at him, trying not to show him how, with just a touch and a word, he made her breathe too quickly, with too much excitement. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Throckmorten.”

  In the carriage, he took the seat opposite her, and as they got under way with a jerk, she felt his gaze roam over her. She glanced at Ruby, who was looking pointedly out the window, and almost wanted to elbow the maid so that she’d watch Daniel. But that would be too obvious, so Grace forced herself to return his stare with one of her own. It was warm in the carriage, and she felt flushed even before she could feel his focus moving down her body, lingering on her breasts as his mouth lifted at one corner.

  She tried to be bold and stare at him the same way. His body narrowed from his wide shoulders down to his waist. Then, to her shock, he subtly spread his legs a bit, as if he thought she wanted to see—

  Her wide eyes flew back to his, and he looked far too amused and knowing. Her cheeks felt hot, and it took all she had not to look away in defeat.

  Instead, she lifted her chin and said, “Mr. Throckmorten, will you be attending Lady Barlow’s musicale this evening? I hear her daughters are quite accomplished with both voice and instruments.”

  “As to their talent, you heard incorrectly, or so I’ve been told. But no, I shall not be attending.”

  “Surely the son of a famous composer would be invited to every musical event of the Season,” she said.

  Was she mistaken, or did the mention of his father make his gaze a bit more…shuttered?

  “I was invited.”

  When he didn’t elaborate, she said, “But you turned the poor lady down?”

  “I do not attend musicales, Miss Banbury.”

  “Why not?”

  She thought he would cover himself with a flip remark, and was surprised when he regarded her seriously.

  “Questions from the curious about my mother still haven’t gone away. Music is a painful subject for her. After my father’s death, and her one musical composition, she never wanted to hear it again.” He smiled wryly. “I imagine you’ve already heard all the rumors.”

  She nodded. “I have. And I’m sorry for what you suffered.”

  “You mean what she suffered.”

  But not him? she wondered, and then continued, “It is a shame that such talent is associated with sad memories.”

  He shrugged.

  “Did she forbid you from listening to music?”

  He frowned. “No.”

  This was becoming far too personal, but she couldn’t help her curiosity. “What questions do people ask?”

  He tilted his head as he watched her, and a faint smile hovered at his lips—but he wasn’t trying to seduce her with his gaze anymore, which should make her feel relieved.

  “She has not been to London in many years—”

  “Since your father’s death?”

  A flash of surprise showed briefly in his eyes. “A good deduction. Yes, the questions and curiosity proved too much for her.”

  “And all the memories they induced.”

  He nodded.

  She couldn’t believe that he was talking like this to her. She wanted to shy away in politeness, feeling too intrusive on private emotions—

  And she wanted to know everything about this man, who would shun events because of his mother’s painful memories.

  Or his own? Was there truly a different man buried beneath the rake he showed the world? She should stop prying, but something she didn’t understand drove her.

  “And now the questions about your mother are too much for you?” she asked. “Surely they only admire her talent and want to know how she is doing.”

  “Miss Banbury, these are the people who believed her a murderer,” he said with no emotion.

  She stiffened.

  “The sort of people who believe that a symphony is worth killing over.”

  “People kill over less.”

  She was assuming his mother innocent, but maybe she wasn’t—did even he know the truth?

  “Society loves to whisper, even when it is unwarranted.” She hesitated. “Yet, at the time you wouldn’t have known that. You were only a little boy, who’d just lost his father tragically.”

  To her surprise, she felt her skirts stir, and realized that he had slowly slid his toes under her hem.

  Distracting her, she knew. Of course he didn’t want to talk about his family tragedy. Or had he changed so much that those emotions were locked away, and he thought they no longer affected him?

  But he didn’t attend musicales.

  Still smiling sweetly, she pushed her heel hard into his toe, but all he did was grin.

  Ruby glanced between the two of them, and Grace realized that they’d stopped speaking rather abruptly.

  “So where are you taking me on our picnic?” Daniel asked, glancing out the window.

  Grace saw the frown that slowly came over his face as he saw that they were no longer in Mayfair.

  “It’s a surprise,” she said.

  “Quite.”

  Miss Parker was a woman who obviously understood that for society ladies to help—and donate—they had to feel comfortable. The “picnic” was really a long row of tables set up in a littered park in Bethnal Green. As their carriage came to a stop, and Daniel opened the door, Grace could see a dozen ladies supervising servants as they unloaded wagons and carts filled with crates and covered cauldrons. Other servants wandered the edges of the park, trying to look unobtrusive, but they were obviously for security. Scores of people in threadbare clothing had already begun to gather around the edges of the park, holding the hands of excited children. Grace smiled. This was really a good cause and not just a way to make Daniel more accepted in Society.

  But he was the only gentleman in attendance. As more and more ladies saw him walking toward them at Grace’s side, heads began to turn, and whispers were exchanged.

  Miss Parker, after directing a group of men in the building of small cook fires, came to them when others hung back.

  “Miss Banbury, I am so glad you were able to join us for such a worthwhile endeavor.” She glanced at Daniel. “But you did understand the purpose, did you not?”

  “That it was to help London’s deserving folk?” Grace asked brightly. “Of course! And when I mentioned to Mr. Throckmorten what we were doing today, he insisted on coming to help.”

  Daniel bowed briefly to Miss Parker, who eyed him with surprise and amusement.

  “Helping is not the only thing he’s doing,” Miss Parker said, glancing meaningfully at Grace.

  Grace pretended not to understand. “Pardon me?”

  Miss Parker obviously thought that Daniel was only trying to impress Grace. Maybe she’d tell the other ladies the same thing. All of which would help them believe that Daniel finally had softer emotions.

  To her surprise, Daniel left them and went to assist the men unloading the wagons. As Grace helped set out plates and cups, she couldn’t help watch with the rest of the shocked ladies as Daniel hoisted a keg of beer onto his shoulders, heedless of his expensive frock coat, and carried it across the field.

  “My, my,” said one woman, who fanned herself so briskly that everyone around her laughed.

  “He is really trying to impress you, Miss Banbury,” Miss Parker said.

  Young ladies and old all looked between Grace and Daniel, and Grace hoped they saw the marrying potential in him rather than a man who collected a string of mistresses. What man of their acquaintance would help the poor with the sweat of his brow rather than just a check?

  Grace felt pleased with her accomplishment as an hour wore on and the food was served. Needy Londoners moved down the line holding their tin plates, and thanking each woman with appreciation for a ladle of stew or another piece of bread. Grace saw several ladies looking rather faint at the disreputableness of some of their guests, but everyone continued
to do her part. Daniel stood with several male servants, pouring tankards of beer to set on the table near them. He had removed his coat, and his shirt seemed so white and…bare. She couldn’t hear what he said, but there was much laughter. He fit in so easily, as if he’d been raised on the streets rather than in a duke’s palatial home.

  Had he become good at fitting in because he’d had to do so much of it when he was young? She thought again of him at eight, his father dead so suddenly, his mother accused. Had he even realized what was going on? Or had that come later, with age and the cruelty of other children?

  Since he easily took charge of any situation, she imagined that he’d tried to help his mother, who was shocked and grieving. He still cared about her feelings, when it had all happened over twenty years ago. She found herself curious to meet his mother.

  As the luncheon attendance began to dwindle, and people were scattered at tables and seated on blankets eating, Grace saw a pair of young ladies stroll casually by the beer stand. They made it a point to talk to one of the servants, while trying not to eye Daniel too obviously. He looked amused, and then glanced up to find Grace watching him.

  Oh, dear. Before she could even look away, he’d raised a beer tankard to her.

  “He is such a disreputable man,” a woman said in a low, angry voice.

  Grace turned around to find a woman of middle age, her white gloves still pristine, where Grace had long since removed hers. She wore the black of mourning. She was speaking to another of similar age, but both stared obviously at Grace. They must have meant to be overheard.

  And Grace couldn’t help herself. “But he is here today, giving of his time, is he not?”

  “Young lady, you don’t know who I am, do you?” said the first woman.

  Grace opened her mouth, but the woman went on quickly.

  “I am Lady Swarthbeck, cousin to the earl of Martindale.” She lifted one eyebrow imperiously.

  Grace realized that she referred to the earl who had just sold his ancestral land to Daniel.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Swarthbeck,” she said politely. “I am Miss Banbury.”

  “I know who you are, girl. Mrs. Radburn told me about your sympathy for Throckmorten. I assure you, it is misplaced.”

  “I believe that—”

  “If I had known that someone would have temerity to bring him to this honest gathering, I never would have come.”

  “But we are all so needed here,” Grace said softly.

  The woman drew herself up even higher, bosom thrust forward on her broad chest. “Do not instruct your betters, girl. You are ignorant of all that has gone on.”

  Grace wanted to debate that, but knew that Lady Swarthbeck wasn’t the sort of woman who could hold a rational conversation right now, after being hurt by her cousin’s actions. Grace felt sorry for her. But her cousin was the one she should scold.

  Lady Swarthbeck turned away in a huff and marched toward the beer stand. She took hold of the arms of the young ladies still flirting with Daniel and pulled them away.

  Grace couldn’t hear all that was said, except for something about “few morals,” and “a blight on good society.”

  Gritting her teeth, Grace took a step toward them, and then found herself restrained by Miss Parker.

  “Miss Banbury, do not make this worse,” Miss Parker said softly. “The day has been a success. Let others confront their problems elsewhere.”

  Grace nodded absently, all of her focus on Lady Swarthbeck and Daniel. Daniel said something in a low voice, and the noblewoman simply turned her back and walked away. So much for all the members of Society accepting Daniel.

  Grace had begun this plan to “redeem” Daniel merely to quell her brother’s suspicions of the real terms of the challenge between Daniel and her. But she’d found Daniel’s childhood sympathetic, and thought that some of his reputation stemmed from family scandal over which he’d had no control. Of course, that did not excuse his treatment of women.

  Originally, she’d been so confident in her ability to resist him that rejecting his attempts had been a game to her—exciting and dangerous and thrilling.

  She still knew she could win, but each time she was alone with him, her tenuous grasp on control slipped a little more.

  And now she felt sympathetic toward him. Perhaps she could end this challenge feeling better about what she’d accomplished—besides rejecting him.

  He suddenly looked right at her, and she didn’t look away.

  She was a fool; she should run, salvage her pride while she still had some. But she didn’t want to.

  What if she really could redeem the duke’s scandalous cousin?

  Chapter 9

  As the sun beat down on Daniel’s shoulders, and he heard the coarse voices of the men around him, he found himself caught in the spell of Grace’s serious, intent regard.

  What was she thinking in that devious mind of hers?

  She’d seen Lady Swarthbeck’s cut, and she couldn’t be surprised that Daniel was rejected by Society after the things he’d done.

  Then Grace turned away and set about helping a young mother with three children. Grace took the babe from her arms so that the woman could help the others with their plates. Soon Grace had a smudge on her bodice, and a lock of light brown hair had tumbled out of its restraint.

  She had certainly outwitted him this afternoon. He’d thought to have an intimate picnic—or at least the kind where they could find themselves alone quite easily.

  But not here in the middle of Bethnal Green, a neighborhood of dubious character.

  What had been her purpose bringing him here? It couldn’t be just a distraction from his pursuit of her. She could have accomplished that quite easily by doing this without him.

  But she’d invited him. Had it been a challenge, to see how he’d handle himself? Did she assume he’d scandalize himself further by rejecting such an unusual outing?

  But no, that didn’t make sense with what he knew about her. He watched her smile at the poor woman she was helping, the way she looked tenderly down at the babe wrapped in no better than rags. She found a clean blanket for him at the table filled with used clothing and goods.

  She seemed a pure, good woman. How had she turned out that way, raised by an unscrupulous gambler of a mother?

  She was volunteering her time helping people, when her own home was bare, and she probably couldn’t have fed herself without Daniel’s intervention.

  He finally turned away to lift the next keg into place and begin pouring. He wanted her in his bed. She was a different sort of woman than his usual mistresses, and the challenge had given him new purpose.

  At the end of the afternoon, after everything had been cleaned and reloaded on wagons—and Grace had insisted they remain until the end—Daniel donned his coat and escorted her and her maid back to his waiting carriage.

  When they were settled on the plush benches, the two women facing forward, and Daniel across from them, he watched the satisfied expression on Grace’s face. But he made her wait a half hour into their journey before he spoke.

  “Did you accomplish everything you’d hoped, Miss Banbury?” he asked.

  “All of our guests seemed well pleased with the feast,” she said, smiling. “My thanks for all of your help.”

  “Even though I was not asked or informed.”

  He saw the maid glance suspiciously between them.

  “I knew you’d want to be a part of such a charitable cause,” Grace said.

  “I do many things that are charitable. I keep dealers and servers employed.”

  She rolled her eyes, and he thought the maid’s lips twitched with amusement, but she was stoically doing her duty by trying to pretend she wasn’t there.

  “And although I admire the efforts of Miss Parker and all of the ladies,” he continued, “such charities only relieve suffering temporarily and do not help with the root cause.”

  She frowned at him. “But it is something we women can do, because
we cannot affect the political course of our nation.”

  “Not yet anyway,” he said dryly. “But a different age is dawning, where men are more equal and are judged by what they accomplish for society’s good, not how they were socially born.”

  “Are you including women?” she asked with disbelief.

  “Of course. Women like Miss Parker want to be heard—and someday they probably will be.”

  “It may be a new age, Mr. Throckmorten, but the suffering is only increasing for those with no choice but to work in your new factories.”

  “My factories?”

  “I’m including you with all the members of your sex.”

  “If you want to know of which you speak, you should tour one of my factories. I do not tolerate children working, nor do I allow adults to work in unsafe conditions or for long hours.”

  “My, aren’t you enlightened,” she said, giving a rueful smile.

  “I try.”

  “So that is why you are far too busy with your investments than to do your duty to your family and marry.”

  “I have no duty in regards to marriage, Miss Banbury. That is for my cousin Madingley to worry about.”

  “Are you not his heir, Mr. Throckmorten?”

  “So you know the family tree so well?”

  He saw the blush rosying her cheeks.

  “People talk, sir,” she said. “And no, I don’t know much about all your relatives.”

  “Then let me tell you something that you can admire about me,” he said, leaning toward her, forearms on his knees. “Naturally, I give monetary contributions to worthy charities.”

  She leaned forward as well and gave him a polite smile. “How easy for you.”

  The maid was openly fascinated now and watched as if they were a performing a play for her amusement.

  “And I do something on a much more personal level as well.”

  Something in her expression changed, grew more focused, and much to his pleasure, she licked her lips. “Do tell.”

  “I read to the blind.”

  She blinked her eyes, and then sat back with a flounce, crossing her arms beneath her lovely breasts. “You don’t need to tease me.”