A Wicked Scandal For The Bluestocking (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Lucinda Nelson

  “Perhaps someone paid him a handsome sum to make it look like an accident,” the Marquess said. “Or there could have been an entirely personal motivation. It looks like Lord Henrich had come to your father a number of times before with various ailments and not always paid his bill accordingly.”

  “My father would never make an enemy of a man over something like that,” Charlene interrupted, scandalized. “My father is one of the calmest, most rational people that I know. He doesn’t have quarrels with anyone.”

  “Perhaps your father was simply done with this mistreatment of his practice,” was all the investigator had to say.

  It made Charlene angry to realize that the investigator wasn’t giving her father the benefit of the doubt. From the sounds of things, he wasn’t even trying to clear the doctor.

  How could a man like that, a man who cared nothing of innocence, be the chief investigator on such an important case?

  Charlene wanted to shout at him, but she knew she had to hold her temper. She glanced over at her aunt, trying to soak in some of the woman’s calmness.

  Finally, she looked back at the investigator. “My father is innocent,” she said one more time, clearly. “I suggest that you look into the possibility that someone has framed him.”

  Lord Ambrose raised an eyebrow at her. “I thought you said your father didn’t have quarrels with anyone,” he said slyly. He continued before she could backtrack. “Any idea who might have done such a thing?”

  “No,” Charlene admitted, looking down at her hands and feeling foolish for having said anything. What did she know? And yet, she was absolutely certain that her father was innocent.

  The Marquess lingered there for another moment, his eyes on Charlene again. She felt that same curious sensation as before, like maybe she was a bug trapped beneath his gaze.

  Better beneath his gaze than beneath his heel, but Charlene realized her situation was a little bit of both. He held her father’s life in his hands, and he didn’t seem to care.

  Lord Ambrose finally stood up. “I’ll let you know as I learn any new information,” he said, nodding to the women. “Thank you for your time, and for the tea, Lady Helene. Miss Ellington.”

  He headed towards the door, his boots thumping noisily on the floor as he went. Like an elephant, Charlene thought. A heavy, greasy, old elephant.

  Aunt Helene started to cry. “My poor brother,” she said.

  Charlene knew that she couldn’t just let the Marquess leave like that. She had to make sure he knew that the case wasn’t closed yet. That they were going to find some way to prove her father’s innocence. The investigator couldn’t send her father to the gallows just yet.

  She caught up with the man in the foyer as he was donning his coat. “Lord Ambrose, please,” she said. “There must be something that we can do to prove my father’s innocence.”

  The Marquess shook his head. “My dear, I’m afraid that that is looking more and more impossible by the day,” he said. “As I said before, the case against your father is strong.”

  He paused. “However, there might be something that you can do to save the man. Not his reputation, but at least his life.”

  Charlene was immediately suspicious. As much as she wanted to cling to hope that there was something that she could do to save her father, there was something in the Marquess’ expression that gave her pause. He looked entirely too gleeful.

  “What is it?” she asked cautiously.

  “Agree to be betrothed to me,” the Marquess said simply. “If you do so, I will have your father’s name cleared. If not… Well, I’m afraid that if not, your father will be hanged.”

  Charlene felt revulsion roil in her belly. Marry him? The man was nearly two decades her senior, and while he might once have been an attractive figure, the years hadn’t been kind to him.

  Then again, he was a Marquess with many rich holdings. Marrying him would help her family in a number of ways.

  Yet Charlene couldn’t imagine herself shackled to such a man. He would expect her to be the perfect wife, a trophy that he could display at social gatherings. And he would want to bed her.

  Charlene knew enough about men to know that this man would not be gentle with her. There were whispers as to why his first wife had died, and they had nothing to do with childbirth as the official report had stated.

  He wouldn’t be like Eric, his lips passionate and inquisitive, stirring a fire in her core.

  “I will need time to think it over,” Charlene said in a quavering voice. She didn’t want to marry this hideous and vile man. Yet her sense of loyalty was waging war against her sensibilities.

  She knew in her heart that her father was innocent, but the cards seemed to be stacked against him.

  If she told the Marquess no, there was the distinct possibility that no matter what evidence she and Eric were able to bring forth to prove her father’s innocence, the Marquess would delight in sending the man to the gallows.

  Charlene couldn’t let that happen. At the same time, she couldn’t picture a life with the Marquess.

  Still, Charlene could tell that her words, her request for time, had already made the Marquess angry. What, had he expected that she would fall all over herself agreeing to his proposal?

  She hurriedly tried to cover up her disgust, however, feigning shyness.

  “This is quite a shock to me,” she told him. “I’m beyond my courting days, you see, and I had quite given up hope that any man would ever wish to have me. And with all that’s going on with my father at the moment, my emotions are all over the place.

  “Please, allow me some time to think it over. So that I may be sure that I could be a perfect wife for you.”

  The Marquess’ eyes softened slightly, just as she had hoped. She breathed an internal sigh of relief, even though she knew she wasn’t out of the fire yet.

  “There’s a limit to how much time I may give you,” the Marquess reminded her. “If you delay too long and more evidence mounts against your father, there’s a possibility that the magistrate won’t listen to me. Even if we guarantee that your father never practice medicine again.”

  He paused. “As you know, there are many people wanting justice done for Lord Henrich. It’s only a matter of time before the desire for revenge becomes too strong to ignore.”

  Charlene nodded her head. “I will let you know as soon as I might,” she said. She fought to hide her shudder of revulsion when the Marquess took her hand in his.

  Although she wasn’t fully successful, she imagined that from the sudden grin on the Marquess’ face, he thought it was out of excitement rather than extreme disgust.

  “I will return to visit you soon,” he promised her. “My darling.” With that, he turned and left. Charlene sank to her knees, pressing her hands together as she stared blindly at the closed door.

  Chapter 12

  Lord Eric Cumberland, Duke of Havenport

  Eric couldn’t help but feel surprised when he was informed that Charlene was there in his receiving room, hoping to see him. Truth to tell, he hadn’t expected her to seek him out, not after the scene in the carriage on the way back from Newgate.

  Oh, he knew that she wasn’t some shy and blushing chit who would be too nervous to find him. There was a certain fire in the woman. She spoke her mind, and she was headstrong and sure.

  Still, he kept thinking about those unanswered letters of his. Sure, she might have allowed him to kiss her the other day, but that didn’t mean that she was interested in anything more.

  She merely needed his help with her father’s case, and she was using her sex to win him over.

  She needn’t have done that. He only hoped that she realized that he would have helped her, kisses or no. That said, his body ached for the possibility of more.

  It had been more than once this week that he had awoken hard and aching, reaching for the dream of her that existed only in his mind. There was a part of him that felt foolish for it. He should have been chasing L
ady Annabelle or one of the other women who befit his social stature.

  But love knew no rules.

  Eric entered the sitting room, sweeping a critical eye over Charlene. She looked tired, although she had tried to hide it. Her hair was just not-quite perfect, and her dress hung slightly loose on her frame.

  Her eyes were troubled. But she smiled tentatively when she saw him, getting to her feet.

  “It’s good to see you,” she sighed, stepping forwards and embracing him. There was no hesitation there, and it warmed something inside of Eric. Perhaps she hadn’t been merely kissing him because she thought that was the way to win his help.

  “Is everything all right?” Eric asked into her hair.

  Charlene nodded against his shoulder. “Yes, more or less,” she said, twisting her face up to see him. “I don’t have any news about Father, if that’s what you’re wondering. I just had to see you.” She paused, looking suddenly uncertain. “Is that all right?”

  Eric kissed her gently, unable to stop himself from leaning down to taste those lovely pink lips of hers. He pulled her body flush against his, stroking a hand down her side and feeling the way that she shivered with desire.

  She reacted so easily to his touch, so eagerly, that Eric knew that this seduction was no trick. She really must desire him.

  They broke apart breathless, but Eric kept her close, leaning his forehead against hers.

  “You know,” he said, trailing his index finger along the edge of her neckline, imagining the soft skin of her bosom that rested just beneath her clothing. “I always thought, when you didn’t answer my letters, that you had forgotten me. Or that you must not be interested in me.”

  “Never that,” Charlene said fiercely, turning her head up for another kiss. This time, when he slid his tongue into her mouth, she moaned, her fingers twisting in the fabric at his back.

  When Eric finally let her go a few minutes later, her lips were dark, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes bright. She trailed her tongue absently along her abused bottom lip, already looking as though she’d been thoroughly ravished.

  For a moment, Eric wondered how little it might take to make her spill over in ecstasy. Could he bring her to the brink with just his mouth, nibbling and sucking along her body? Perhaps his fingers, sliding deep inside of her warm entrance?

  He had half a mind to lay her out right here on the divan and have his way with her, but he held his passions in check. Too much too soon and he was sure that he would frighten her. He had no desire to do that.

  He caught her hands and led her to the divan, though, sitting close enough that he could feel her warmth against his thigh. Charlene leaned into him, putting her head against his shoulder and tracing absent patterns against the back of the hand that still held hers.

  “It was never that I wasn’t interested,” Charlene promised him. “You must realize, however, that you have half the women of England after your betrothal.” She paused. “I saw you at the ball, dancing with Lady Annabelle.”

  Eric groaned and put an arm around Charlene’s shoulders, holding her close. “She has made it quite obvious that she’s interested in me,” he allowed.

  Charlene grinned up at him. “You don’t sound very thrilled with that,” she said, sounding thoroughly satisfied with that answer.

  Eric had to grin at her. “Would you have been jealous if you thought that I was interested?” he asked her curiously.

  “I was jealous,” Charlene admitted, not seeming ashamed of the fact. “When I saw the two of you there in the garden, why, I wanted nothing more than to interrupt you. I needed to find Matilda, though. And anyway, I didn’t think it was any of my business, whom you chose to be intimate with.”

  “Well, rest assured that I would rather have spent that evening with you,” Eric told her, nuzzling the smooth skin just below Charlene’s earlobe and hearing the way her breath caught.

  He breathed out his next words against her skin: “Of course, I would rather have spent that evening with you in private.” There was no doubting the meaning in his words, and he could feel Charlene’s shiver.

  He pulled back, smiling at her, and watched as a blush again stained her pale skin. “And you?” he asked her. “Any paramours that I ought to know about?”

  He was simply teasing her, and so he was surprised to see the way she flinched and turned away. “Not exactly,” she sighed unhappily.

  Immediately, Eric was worried. “What does that mean?” he asked her, sliding further away. Was she betrothed to someone? How could he not have known?

  Then again, how could he have been so foolish as to think that one such as herself would be unattached? She was beautiful, intelligent, and charming. Of course someone else must have noticed that fact.

  “Lord Ambrose DuBois Johnson came to see Aunt Helene and I the other day,” Charlene admitted, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. Eric frowned at the change of subject, but he didn’t want to pressure her.

  “Myself as well,” he told her.

  Charlene gave him a shocked look. “Why would he come to see you?” she asked.

  “Seems a certain warden likely wasn’t happy with the way I pulled rank on him,” Eric admitted wryly. “The Marquess was very clear that I’m not to interfere or to bring you back to Newgate, unfortunately. I’m sure that if you’d like to visit your father again, though, we can find some way.”

  Charlene shook her head. “I’m sorry if I’ve gotten you into trouble,” she sighed.

  Eric laughed. “Lord Ambrose will give me no trouble,” he promised the young woman. “I am worried about the way he is handling the investigation with your father, however. It seems he’s made up his mind that your father must be guilty, and he isn’t willing to listen to any other facts.”

  “I had the same fear,” Charlene said, sounding worried.

  “I’m sure there’s some way that we can clear his name, though,” Eric said, before she could become too distraught. “After all, I did promise that I would help.”

  Charlene was quiet for a long moment, and Eric wondered if she had lost her faith in him. Finally, she looked up at him. “When Lord Ambrose came to see me, he did suggest one way that I might save my father,” she admitted quietly.

  “What is it?” Eric asked, immediately wary. People like Lord Ambrose didn’t help people like Dr. Ellington for free, and based on what Eric had seen of the man, he didn’t much care to proclaim the doctor innocent. What might possibly change his mind?

  Charlene took a deep breath. “He suggested that if I were to promise my hand to him, then he would make the charges go away,” she told Eric, and suddenly he was able to make the connection from their earlier conversation.

  Charlene didn’t have any paramours that he should know about, but she did have the Marquess attempting to blackmail her into a no-doubt ugly marriage. Eric felt his blood boil at the thought.

  “I hope you told him no!” Eric blurted out. “You must have heard the rumors about his first wife’s demise.”

  Charlene nodded, her face pale and unhappy. “I’ve heard the rumors,” she agreed quietly. “But I don’t know that I can tell him no.”

  She looked away from Eric, laughing bitterly. “Of course the last thing I want in this world is to marry Lord Ambrose. At the same time, though, this might be the only way to save my father.”

  “Surely not,” Eric said, shaking his head. “There must be some way that we can prove his innocence.”

  Charlene shrugged one shoulder, her expression gone distant. “I never thought that I would marry anyone,” she said. “Of course, I always hoped that one day you would come back for me, but I was under no illusions.”

  She bit her lower lip and shook her head. “I don’t want to marry the Marquess, but if I scorn him, then it is certain that he will send my father to hang.”

  “No,” Eric said firmly. He grasped both of Charlene’s hands in his own.

  “Charlene, I swear to you that I will never let you marry this man. I
will do everything in my power to prove your father’s innocence. If it means that I have to go above the Marquess’ head to the magistrate himself, then that’s what I will do.”

  He smiled crookedly at her. “You know, being a duke does have its perks. I have connections that the Marquess could never dream of.”

  Charlene smiled weakly at him. “But what can you really do? We haven’t any idea what’s truly happened. Father doesn’t even know who might have framed him.”

  “I’m sure there’s some way to get to the bottom of this,” Eric told her. “If I have to talk to everyone in the entire country to clear your father, then that’s what I will do. You keep the Marquess interested in you for now. Don’t make him any promises, but don’t deny him either.”