It’s Only a Scandal if You’re Caught

by Farmer, Merry

  “Really?” Lady Claudia feigned surprise. “Then you’ll be supporting the Liberal Unionists?”

  It was exactly the sort of entrée Bianca needed. So much for the speech she had planned.

  “The Liberal Unionists are a bunch of cowards who cannot see what is in front of their own noses,” she declared.

  A gasp went through the crowd. Extraneous conversations stopped, and everyone seemed to stand straighter, their attention thoroughly captured.

  “You heard me,” Bianca went on, throwing her shoulders back at a jaunty angle. “The Liberal Unionists are cowards. They are too dense to see that the Irish are their own people with their own traditions and customs and their own path for the future. It is madness for anyone to even think of holding them in a position of inferiority. And for what reason? To stroke the English ego? To make powerful men feel even more powerful?”

  Murmurs had erupted throughout the crowd. A good deal of the people listening wore frowns of disapproval. Some glared at Bianca outright. At the edge of the crowd, Jack had switched from surveying the entire park to watching the audience as though he might have to spring in and break up a fight at any second.

  “You dare insult the British Empire?” Lady Claudia asked, no longer laughing. She appeared ready to tear Bianca from the stage with her bare hands.

  “I love the Empire,” Bianca told her. “I love it so much that I long for it to see reason and to stop blacking its own eye by grasping futilely to nations that should be independent.”

  “So you think the empire should dissolve then?” one of the men who had heckled her earlier said with far more seriousness.

  “I think Ireland should be granted its own parliament, like Canada was,” Bianca said, drawing energy from the sheer volume of opposition she felt in front of her. “I think all men should be given the vote, not just ones who fulfill property requirements. All women as well. Our nation should be a true democracy.”

  Another round of shock and disbelief rippled through the audience. People who hadn’t been interested in the speeches before were stopping their leisure activities to join the growing crowd. Bianca found herself with more attention focused on her than she’d bargained for.

  “Women given the vote?” a matronly lady in the middle of the audience scoffed. “Why do I need the vote when my husband has one?”

  “Don’t you want to speak for yourself?” Bianca appealed to her. “Why should men be the only ones with a say in how our government is run? Why should they be the ones to decide the laws that directly impact our lives?”

  “Women are not constitutionally capable of participation in the political world,” a middle-aged man standing near the matronly lady called out. “They are far too delicate. They belong in the home.”

  “I reject that tired old argument outright,” Bianca said with a laugh. “It is a fabrication that has been used for decades to keep women trapped in a subjugated life, forever supplicant to the whims of the men who rule them. It is abuse, I tell you, plain and simple.”

  Her statement was met by sounds of alarm. Behind Bianca, Henrietta stepped forward, clearing her throat as if to remind Bianca of what she was meant to be talking about. But the burr had gotten under Bianca’s saddle.

  “Women of the working and middle-classes accomplish more outside the home every day than those of us born to privilege could ever imagine,” she said, glancing to Jack. She couldn’t tell if he approved of her argument or not. “It is ridiculous to say that women, as a sex, are constitutionally incapable of work or stress or strain, when a great number of us leave our homes every day to earn a living by hard toil or by our wits. More and more women attend university every year, so it is false to say our minds cannot handle debate. Our position in society changes and advances every year, and the opinions of the majority must change to accept that we will no longer sit quietly at home with needlework and tea, sighing away our lives as we look to men to take care of us. Some of us are quite capable of taking care of ourselves.”

  The chorus of indignation that swelled from the audience was so vehement that it was as if Bianca had suggested abolishing the monarchy and burning Buckingham Palace to the ground. Men stared back at her as though she were the Whore of Babylon, and the women gaped at her like she was suggesting they lift up their skirts to show the crowd their drawers. It was the most frustrating backlash to what felt like essential advancements and reason that Bianca could have imagined.

  “How can you all stand there and allow yourselves to be imprisoned by opinion?” she asked the crowd. “The only thing holding women back from the freedom and power we have a right to is our own complacency. If we would just—”

  “Thank you, Lady Bianca.” Henrietta stepped forward, her smile as brittle as glass, pleading with her eyes for Bianca to be quiet and to step back. “Perhaps we should take a short break before hearing Lady Diana Pickwick speak on the condition of the workhouses.”

  For one, brief moment, Bianca considered overriding Henrietta and speaking on. Sense stepped in, though, and with a sigh, Bianca dropped her shoulders and moved away from the podium.

  “I’m sorry I got carried away,” she told Henrietta as the crowd in front of them broke into a rumble of conversation. “It’s just that I feel so passionately about the changes that must happen in our world.”

  “I know, my dear,” Henrietta said with an understanding smile, resting a gloved hand on Bianca’s arm. “But very few people are ready to hear those changes spoken of. It won’t help the cause in front of us to alienate our allies right from the start.”

  Bianca clenched her jaw, not certain she agreed with her friend and mentor. She didn’t have time to argue, though. Lady Diana stepped up behind Henrietta with a worried look and tapped her on the shoulder. When Henrietta turned to give Lady Diana her attention, Bianca was left alone.

  She glanced out over the milling crowd, hoping Jack would still be watching her with protective approval. He was still smiling, though he looked exasperated. But it wasn’t Jack who caught her full attention.

  At the far end of the crowd, almost concealed behind a stand of bushes, Bianca spotted Lord Charles Denbigh. He must have escorted his sister and her horrible friends to the rally. But it wasn’t Lord Denbigh himself that sent prickles down Bianca’s back and made her frown, it was the man he was speaking to. Lord Denbigh was the snobbiest of snobs, and yet he was giving his full attention to a man in plain, middle-class clothes. The man had sandy brown hair and a thick moustache, and he seemed uncomfortable speaking to Lord Denbigh in public.

  Bianca pressed a hand to her stomach. Brickman. That was the name of the man Jack had said might be involved with the attack on Lord O’Shea. Was it possible that Brickman was the very same blackguard speaking to Lord Denbigh at that moment?

  She hurried to the edge of the platform and down the stairs, trying to keep Lord Denbigh and the man in sight. There wasn’t much she could do, but if she got close enough to hear what the two were saying—

  “What an embarrassing spectacle.”

  Bianca was stopped a few yards from the platform as Lady Claudia and her cronies stepped into her path.

  “I don’t know what possessed Lady Tavistock to allow this one into the May Flowers,” Lady Maude Carmichael said with a sniff.

  “It just goes to show how low the May Flowers have sunk,” Lady Jane Hocksley agreed with a sniff.

  Rage bubbled up in Bianca. “The character of the May Flowers has risen considerably since the rubbish was removed,” she said, holding her head high.

  Lady Claudia laughed as though Bianca were an urchin who had insulted her, pressing a delicate hand to her chest. “Can you believe the audacity of some people?” she asked her friends.

  “Do you think it audacity to stand up for your own rights?” Bianca demanded. “To stand up for the rights of those who are prevented from speaking for themselves?”

  “Perhaps she has been consuming too much spicy food,” Lady Jane suggested. “I hear the nat
ive cuisine of some of the colonies can inflame the digestion, and since she seems to think so highly of primitive colonies….”

  “You may address me directly,” Bianca growled, crossing her arms. “I’m standing right in front of you.”

  “My word.” Lady Claudia’s eyes popped wide in surprise. “I should have known someone as scandalous as you craves nothing but attention.”

  “That is not what I meant and you know it, Claudia Denbigh,” Bianca huffed.

  “Lady Claudia,” Lady Claudia corrected her, tilting her chin up so that she could stare down her long nose.

  “I don’t care if you’re royalty,” Bianca charged on. “If you can’t summon up the decency to treat all people with respect and if you’re too cowardly to take your own future in hand, then fu—”

  Her shockingly rude outburst was stopped short by Jack’s stern, “Bianca.”

  In an instant, the entire group of ladies and those who had turned to watch the conversation froze as though a cannon had gone off. Bianca shifted to the side to find Jack approaching with a disapproving frown. Her insides quivered as if she’d been caught stealing biscuits.

  But the hush that had fallen over the others had nothing to do with the sting Bianca felt at being scolded. Lady Claudia and her friends all stared with wide eyes and the watchers around the edges gaped. More so when Jack came to a stop by Bianca’s side and subtly shook his head.

  “Remember who you are,” he cautioned her in a low voice, his look boring into her until she met his eyes, let out a breath, and forced her anger down.

  In its place, a wriggling, awkward feeling rose up. People were staring at them, and in the blink of an eye, she knew why. Jack Craig, middle-class police inspector, had put her, Lady Bianca Marlowe, daughter of an earl, in her place with a handful of words. He’d addressed her by her given name in public. And now he had his hand on the small of her back to steady her.

  “Oh, my,” Lady Claudia said, recovering from her shock and bursting into a downright delighted grin. Her cheeks splashed with color, as though she’d discovered a treasure buried in the park. “I should have known. Why, it all makes perfect sense now.”

  Bianca didn’t want to ask. She wanted to grab Jack’s hand and flee from the bungled moment.

  Lady Claudia went on. “I can see where you’ve learned your manners.” Her friends snickered behind her. “Yes, I understand completely now. It appears the two of you are perfect for each other.”

  Her friends laughed harder and Lady Maude muttered, “Mrs. Craig,” then snorted.

  Bianca’s gut burned and she balled her hands into fists at her sides. It stung to be insulted with the very thing she longed for most in the world.

  She opened her mouth, ready to launch into a tirade against the bitches, but Jack moved his hand to grab her wrist, holding her back. Damn him for being so sensible and keeping her from giving the cats what they deserved.

  The stand-off was diffused in the most unsatisfying manner possible.

  “Claudia, the carriage is waiting,” Lord Denbigh called from several feet away. He eyed Jack with a warning expression but didn’t seem like he was brave enough to come any closer.

  “Of course, dear brother.” Lady Claudia turned, throwing Bianca a smug look over her shoulder. “We’re done here anyhow.” She sniffed, then marched through the lurkers, who had gathered around the conversation hoping to see a fight, and took her brother’s arm. Her cronies followed like puppies on leashes.

  “You should have let me put her in her place,” Bianca whispered to Jack as the people around them began to disburse.

  Jack fixed her with a stern look. “I think you’ve done more than enough to advance your cause and raise eyebrows already. Discretion is the better part of valor, after all, and you catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, and all that nonsense.” He winked at her.

  Bianca’s heart melted even as her anger refused to fully let go. “Good Lord, but you’re a frustrating man,” she told him. He could murmur platitudes to her and scold her like a child while making her feel every inch a woman.

  “Give me one moment and we’ll get out of here,” he said, his expression returning to seriousness as he narrowed his eyes at Lord Denbigh’s retreating back. “I need to have a word with someone.”

  “Be quick,” Bianca sighed.

  She let him go, bristling with frustrated energy that made her want to run and scream at the unfairness of life. But if there were any chance Jack could confront Lord Denbigh and make a breakthrough in his case, she would let him take that chance.

  “Do you know, I never thought I would say this….” Henrietta said, approaching from behind Bianca.

  Bianca turned to her. “I beg your pardon?” she asked with genuine curiosity.

  Henrietta gave her a lop-sided smile. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Lady Bianca Marlowe listening to a man and retracting her claws.” Anger pooled in Bianca’s stomach once more, but Henrietta went on to say, “I never thought I would say this, but I believe Mr. Jack Craig really is the perfect man for you.”

  Bianca froze, blinked, then let out a breath. “You’re the first person who has ever said that to me,” she said, unexpectedly touched.

  Henrietta shrugged and closed the gap between them, standing at Bianca’s side as the two of them watched Jack attempting to speak to Lord Denbigh. “Why not say it?” she said. “You need a man who can be earth to your fire. I can’t think of anyone else who would do for you.”

  “Thank you.” Bianca signed in relief.

  “It is a pity that you can never marry him, though.”

  All at once, every good feeling that had built up in Bianca crashed down. “And why not?” she said, turning to Henrietta and planting her hands on her hips. “Jack is a man of respect and distinction. Why shouldn’t I marry him?”

  Henrietta answered with a look that said Bianca knew why.

  “I refuse to sacrifice myself, to sacrifice love, for the sake of antiquated social rules.” Bianca snapped to face forward once more, crossing her arms. “Men rise up from humble beginnings all the time in America.”

  “Yes, dear, but this is not America,” Henrietta said. “Social lines cannot be crossed in Britain.”

  “Rubbish,” Bianca muttered. “I will do as I please for love.”

  “I hope you do,” Henrietta said, surprising Bianca. “I want to see you happy, but you’re going to have to break a great deal of rules to do so.”

  “Then I’ll break them,” Bianca said as Jack gave up with Lord Denbigh and headed back to her. “I’ll break every one of them.”

  Chapter 5

  “How did your conversation with Lord Denbigh go?” Bianca asked several minutes later, after she said her goodbyes to Henrietta and took Jack’s arm so he could escort her away from the rally and out of Regent’s Park. She tried not to resent the sounds of appreciation rising from the crowd as Diana took her place at the podium to deliver a much more socially acceptable message. “Did you wheedle the information out of him that you wanted to?”

  Jack laughed and shook his head, rubbing his free hand over his face. “Not even close. The bastard barely tolerated my presence and said as little as he could.”

  Bianca indulged in a wicked grin. She loved it when Jack slipped and used crude language with her. It meant he was perfectly comfortable with her at his side.

  “None of it was unexpected, though,” Jack went on as they made their way along the path to where it spilled out of the park and onto the street. “Men like Denbigh bristle at the thought of lowering themselves to speak to men like me.”

  “Nonsense,” Bianca huffed, hugging Jack’s arm tighter. “I’m through with these ridiculous social notions that say some people are better than others simply because of birth.”

  Jack glanced to her with a smile. “Obviously.” He winked. “And about that speech of yours.”

  “What about it?” A sheepish feeling fluttered through Bianca’s insides.

  J
ack chuckled. “I thought you were meant to be speaking about the Liberal Party candidate for parliament.”

  Bianca’s cheeks heated. “Yes, well, passion got the better of me.”

  “I’ll say it did,” Jack continued to chuckle, looking as pleased as could be. “I bet that lot didn’t expect to be lectured about women’s suffrage and all that.”

  “They didn’t,” she admitted, biting her lip and wondering what the consequences would be.

  “Personally, I share your point of view.”

  “Really? You do?” Renewed confidence at the confirmation of all the reasons she loved Jack welled up within her.

  “Absolutely.” He nodded. “The women I’ve known in my life, since I was a boy, worked and fought and made their own paths. They were no fainting violets. I’d trust any one of them far more than the nobs who think you lot are incapable of thinking too hard.”

  Bianca’s certainty faltered at the thought of those women. She’d carefully avoided thinking about the women in Jack’s past, beyond knowing they existed, since the two of them first met. “I’m glad you feel that way,” she said, mostly because it felt more appropriate in the moment than asking for a list of the women he was referring to.

  He answered her comment with a broad grin. A moment later, his expression sobered. “I can count the number of people who believe as you do on one hand.”

  “Really? You can count that many?” Bianca asked, attempting cheer. “Name them.”

  They paused to cross the street and Jack’s wily grin returned. “There’s you, of course.”

  “Of course,” Bianca echoed.

  “And me.”

  “We mustn’t forget you,” she agreed.

  “And….” He drew out the syllable, narrowing his eyes as though thinking hard. “No,” he said with a shrug. “That’s it. You and me.”

  “Then it will be you and me against the world,” she said, walking on with a spring in her step.

  Jack laughed wryly, shaking his head. “We’d better arm for battle, then.”