A Wicked Scandal For The Bluestocking (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Lucinda Nelson

  With those final words, he strode out, shutting the door more firmly than necessary behind him. Helene stood there for a moment and then left the room as well, with not a single word for her niece.

  Charlene sank to the floor, all her anger and fear and sadness going out of her, leaving her curiously numb. She had to hope that Eric would find the proof that they so desperately needed. He just had to make things okay.

  Chapter 21

  Lord Ambrose DuBois Johnson, Marquess of Wesborough

  Lord Ambrose was fuming as he left Miss Ellington’s home. How dare she! She had acted as though leaving her father to die would be preferable to accepting his proposal. He ought to have known better than to make her such a grand offer in the first place. She had proven herself to be every bit as woefully stupid as everyone had always thought she was.

  She was too wilful and too proud. Both traits that were unseemly in a young woman.

  Of course, Ambrose knew that if she were to become his wife, he would train those qualities right out of her. There were certainly ways of doing that. Oh, he would need to be a little more careful with her than with his previous wife. But breaking a woman was just the same as breaking a horse.

  And Ambrose excelled at horsemanship.

  Truth to tell, Ambrose had never intended to take another wife. He had grown tired of the previous one’s tears and constant presence in his home. He had other ways of having his needs taken care of, and they didn’t involve an exchange of jewelry and vows.

  Nor did he particularly desire Charlene. Oh, the woman was comely enough. And all that really mattered was what was between her legs. In spite of all of the rumors, Ambrose had a feeling that the woman was likely untouched by any man.

  That was why he wanted her.

  It wasn’t the purity of her pussy that he coveted, except for the fact that he knew someone else coveted her ladyhood more than he. Lord Cumberland had made no secret of the fact that he fancied her. Why else would he be so involved in helping her to clear her father’s name?

  Ambrose had no idea what the other man really saw in Charlene, but that mattered little to him. All he could think of was taking Charlene away from the man. Of going where the other man would not have dared.

  He wondered if Charlene had told the duke about his proposal. He supposed that she probably had, in one of those terribly improper meetings that the two of them seemed to keep having. She was the talk of the town at the moment. No one seemed to have a single good thing to say about the woman.

  That mattered little to him. It would only make victory all the more sweet when it was his. When he could display his newly-docile wife to society, they would realize what a man he truly was.

  He smiled at the very thought of that.

  For now, though, he had to content himself with mere thoughts of the future with his bride. She seemed set on not marrying him. Of course, it all went back to her continued foolishness. In the face of all evidence, she seemed certain that her father must somehow be innocent. But the truth was right there in writing: Dr. Ellington had murdered Lord Henrich. There was no denying it.

  There was a reason why women didn’t hold the power of the law in their hands. The only thing more feeble than their hands was their minds.

  He wondered if he had taken the wrong approach with Charlene. Perhaps he should have attempted to woo her first. Women seemed to want the illusion of romance. He couldn’t say that he understood why.

  He shook his head. He wasn’t the type of courting man who sent flowers and recited poetry. He wasn’t going to tell Charlene that she was his heart’s desire. She wasn’t, not really. He merely wanted to keep her away from the Duke.

  His anger at her blunt refusal mixed with the residual anger that he had always felt for Lord Eric. Now there was a boy who had been raised soft. Ambrose hadn’t believed that anyone could ever be softer than the former Duke of Havenport, and yet his son certainly gave him a run for his money.

  Ambrose remembered a visit to the Duke’s palace a long time ago. Every room looked like something out of a bower. The duke called it his ‘pleasure palace’. It was despicable.

  The Marquess, on the other hand, had always favored his father’s and grandfather’s taste in furnishings. That meant hunting trophies, heavy tapestries to keep out the chill, and thick rugs on the floor. Furniture that was scarred with age, as his body bore the scars of battle.

  He despised the boy who had followed in his father’s steps. Eric had already proven himself just as feeble a duke as his father had before him. It made Ambrose want to march onto his lands with an army and take it over. He doubted there would be much resistance, even from the ton.

  But it all started with the conquest of the thing that Eric wanted most but knew that he couldn’t have. How would it feel for him to have to watch the Marquess with his lovely little crush? Ambrose couldn’t wait to find out.

  Because Charlene would accede to his proposal eventually. She still apparently held out hope that Eric would come through and prove her father’s innocence. But that was only because she thought that they had more time. It was clear to Ambrose that the duke wasn’t ready to lay out his evidence yet.

  If he could get the postponement of the trial revoked, then Eric wouldn’t have enough time to build his case. Then Miss Ellington’s only hope would be to marry him, Ambrose. Not to mention the fact that it would likely annoy Eric to no end that the Marquess had been able to convince the judge to listen to him, rather than to the duke.

  Ambrose smiled slyly. Yes, that was how he would do it. Go to the judge now and remind him that the Duke had no place in this case. That they were only brewing more anger in the streets, and that soon there would no doubt be riots and violence.

  The whole city of London was in danger of chaos and terror, and the judge would need to do anything in his power to stop it. That meant hanging Dr. Ellington now.

  It would work, he was sure. And what’s more, hanging the doctor would be a good first lesson for his new bride, after Charlene turned to him in terror of the fact that the trial would actually be happening so soon. Yes, that was the perfect plan.

  He whistled to himself as he headed to the judge’s house.

  Chapter 22

  Lord Eric Cumberland, Duke of Havenport

  Eric slammed his hand down on his desk hard enough to make the various objects on the dark wood rattle. The man across from him flinched, even though he knew that Eric’s frustration wasn’t directed at him.

  They had been so close. They had practically had Harvey Parsons. He had been lying in hiding not all that far from London. Eric had sent men to get him, stressing how important the secrecy of their mission was.

  He hadn’t found anything that would directly link Harvey Parsons to Lord Henrich’s death yet, but he was sure that if he could but talk to the man, the connection would become clear. He was certain that the man had been the one to actually do what Dr. Ellington was accused of. He just needed to know why.

  At least the doctor’s trial had been postponed for the time being, although Eric wasn’t sure how much longer he would be able to hold it off for. The judge had finally been amenable when Eric explained to him that he was certain he had the real perpetrator and that it would only take him some more time to have the man in London and ready for the trial.

  The judge had seemed skeptical, and Eric had no doubt that the Marquess had already hinted to him about the copious amounts of evidence against Dr. Ellington. But finally, he had agreed. Eric’s position, and the sizeable bribe that he paid, saw to that.

  The trouble was that the Marquess had then decided to contest his hold on the trial, reminding the judge that he was the primary investigator and that Eric didn’t have any right to hold the trial.

  Eric was sure there was more to it as well. The judge would have waved off any petty squabble the Marquess brought to him about positions and such. No, likely the Marquess had reminded the judge that there was more and more resentment against Lord Henrich�
��s murderer every day and that it was in the interest of safety for the trial to go off speedily.

  Of course, Eric’s argument was that sending the wrong man to the gallows would eventually make a martyr of the man and fools of those who convicted him. If he could gather the evidence that Dr. Ellington hadn’t been the one to commit the crime.

  He was worried now that he wouldn’t have another chance to get Harvey into his custody. If the man realized that people were after him, he would go even deeper into hiding. Eric might never find him again.

  But failure wasn’t an option. He wasn’t going to allow Charlene to end up with the Marquess as a husband. That wasn’t an option.

  He simply wished that he had been able to sort all of this trouble out sooner, rather than leave Charlene in agony and distress.

  That dastardly investigator. If he would but do his job the proper way, then Eric wouldn’t be straining himself trying to apprehend Parsons. He wondered whether Lord Ambrose had even attempted to find Dr. Ellington innocent or if it had been too convenient for him to just heap as much evidence against the doctor as he could.

  He couldn’t believe that the man was so dead-set on marrying Charlene. Not that he didn’t think that the woman was worthy of his attention, but from everything that Eric had heard, there were other ways that the Marquess had grown accustomed to occupying himself.

  He wondered why Lord Ambrose was so interested in her. Was it just that Charlene made an easy target for the man, given that he currently held her father’s life in his hands? Or was it possible that there was something more to it – say, the fact that Lord Ambrose knew that he, Eric, was trying to help the woman?

  Given the way that the investigator had shown up at Eric’s manor to threaten him after Eric did nothing more than bring Charlene to see her father, Eric had a feeling that it was more to do with his own involvement in the situation than anything that Charlene had done.

  He couldn’t back out of this now, though. He had given his word, and even if that meant nothing to him, there was the fact that he couldn’t let Charlene be married to that ogre. As it was, his word meant everything to him.

  He was going to solve this. Somehow. He just needed to get his hands on Harvey Parsons.

  There was a knock at the door not long after his hired man had left. Eric grimaced, in no mood for company at the moment. Especially not when it was Lord Ambrose who was announced. His hands clenched reflexively at his sides, and he forced himself to take a deep and calming breath.

  He had been expecting some sort of confrontation with the chief investigator ever since he had requested the hold on the trial. In fact, he had been surprised that it hadn’t come before now. That didn’t mean that he was much looking forwards to this, however.

  At least it wasn’t Lady Annabelle again. He had to smile at that thought.

  The woman was still maddeningly all over him. What’s worse, his mother only seemed to encourage the other woman’s terrible flirtatiousness. Eric knew that he could never hope to court someone like Charlene, but there had to be someone better suited to him than Annabelle!

  For now, though, he had other things on his mind. He squared his shoulders and went to meet the Marquess.

  Lord Ambrose wasted no time on pleasantries. “My Lord-Duke, I have to say that I am appalled by your actions,” he said.

  Eric fought the urge to roll his eyes, wondering just what the rumor mill was saying about him now. Did Ambrose think that he had touched Charlene out of turn? Of course, there had been kisses, but Eric had no doubt that if anyone have seen those, the talk would have already spread.

  He sincerely doubted that Charlene herself would have said anything about the kisses to Ambrose. Would she?

  Eric raised an eyebrow coolly. “Which actions are you most disgusted by, my lord?” he asked smoothly.

  Lord Ambrose practically purpled in fury. “You know very well,” he hissed, stepping forwards like he wished to tower over Eric, as though the Duke were no more than a boy. But Eric was much taller than the Marquess would ever be, and more muscular at that. The resultant effect was much diminished and left the Marquess looking more like a puffed up peacock than anything else.

  “I warned you once before to stay away from Charlene,” Lord Ambrose continued thunderously.

  “I thought you meant simply that I wasn’t to bring her to see her father again,” Eric lied.

  “You thought no such thing!” Ambrose exploded, spittle flying madly.

  Eric winced. And Charlene was to marry this man, in order to save her father? Not on his life!

  Eric let the other lord stew in his anger for a long moment. Finally, he gave a slow and deliberate shrug. “I am merely trying to ensure that the correct man is hanged for the murder of Lord Henrich. After all, we wouldn’t want there to be any more murders, would we? It’s a matter of our own security, Lord Ambrose. I’m simply looking out for my own interests and health.”

  “You dare accuse me of falsifying evidence against Dr. Ellington?” Ambrose nigh on shouted.

  “Of course not,” Eric said. He simply didn’t believe that the Marquess had all the facts in front of him. Nor was he trying particularly hard to see the doctor’s innocence. “I would appreciate if you didn’t talk to me thus in my own home.”

  For a second, he thought that Ambrose might hit him. He held his breath, waiting for the blow. Such as that would make it all too easy for him to ruin the other man. But the Marquess seemed to recover his temper at just the last second. He took a step back, breathing heavily.

  Eric couldn’t resist prodding the man further. “I have evidence that it wasn’t Dr. Ellington who poisoned Lord Henrich,” he said. It was more a bluff than anything else. He was sure that Harvey Parsons was the man who had committed the crime, but unless and until he could apprehend the man and bring him to the trial, there was no hard evidence to present.

  Somehow, Lord Ambrose seemed to realize that there was some delay, but he put a sickly smile on his face and said pleasantly, “Well, I suppose that’s a good thing. After all, the judge just overruled your stay order. The trial is set to begin within the week.”

  Eric tried to keep the horror from showing on his face. Of course, he had expected nothing different. That hold had been simply temporary. He had hoped that he would be granted more time, however.

  He wouldn’t have needed more time if Parsons weren’t such a slippery fish.

  He refused to give away any of his thinking now, though. If Lord Ambrose didn’t know what cards the duke held, then the game was still on. “I will see you at the trial,” he said simply.

  “Stay away from Charlene until then,” Lord Ambrose warned him.

  “It would be wise for you not to threaten a duke,” Eric commented coldly.

  He could see Lord Ambrose’s response forming in his eyes. But finally, the Marquess turned stiffly and stalked out of his home.

  Eric slumped into a chair, drawing Dr. Ellington’s journal towards him once more. There had to be some sort of clue in the writing. Something else that would lead him to Harvey Parsons. He had been over the documents a number of times, and still nothing.

  He would do whatever was in his power to prove the correct man guilty, however. It wasn’t just the doctor’s life that hung in the balance but Charlene’s as well. So he started to read it again.

  Chapter 23

  Miss Charlene Ellington

  The waiting was the worst part of all, Charlene decided. Ever since the scandal of her meetings with Eric, she felt as though she was cut off from the rest of society. It took ages for news to filter back to her. None of her friends wanted to see her anymore, and she and Eric couldn’t communicate at all.

  Since Lord Ambrose’s terrible visit, when Charlene told the man that she would never marry him, Helene had ceased to speak to the young woman as well.

  Charlene stared out the window of the sitting room at the rain. There was a chill in the room, but she didn’t move to fetch a blanket or to stoke th
e fire. Numbness was all that she could feel these days.

  She looked up as someone came up the walk. As hard as she might peer through the warped glass, however, she could not discern who the man was. Not Lord Ambrose, however. Or was it?

  She shuddered at the thought of another visit from the malevolent Marquess. Would he demand an answer from her again? How would he react if he found that she hadn’t changed her mind? She certainly hadn’t been having a fit when she told him that she would never marry him.

  Although… That dark thought that was always at the back of her mind surfaced again: What if marrying Lord Ambrose is the only way to save Father?

  She felt sick at the very thought of it. Doomed either way.