Scandalizing the Duke

by Leslie V. Knowles

  Charlotte's eyes grew wide. "You must not–"

  "Don’t worry." Lucien assured her. "Much as I want to kill him for doing this to you, I won’t sink to his level." He kissed her forehead again. "Sometimes there are worse things than death." He smiled grimly. "I will endeavor to find precisely such a solution."

  He chose to enter Wolverton House by way of the mews, as he had the Dalton residence, hoping to avoid the attention of the neighborhood. He feared it might be a lost cause to believe no one noticed Harry following the coach through the streets before it turned into the mews.

  Short as the ride had been, Lucien recognized that Charlotte suffered every bump and sway of the carriage and that her brave front was beginning to crumble. As soon as he helped Charlotte down from the carriage, Lucien scooped her into his arms and Harry followed them as he carried her into the house past his housekeeper, and up the stairs to her room. It showed he'd been right in his estimation of her exhaustion that, this time, she made no protest of his actions.

  "Mrs. Abbot, Miss Longborough will need bath water and a strong pot of tea... with sugar and brandy. Timmons, send for Mr. Lynch."

  Charlotte's sisters, his stepmother and Anne had rushed to the landing at the top of the stairs as soon as he spoke. After their shocked exclamations when they caught sight of Charlotte's battered condition, they trailed after him, their silence as grim as his expression.

  Once Charlotte was in her room, surrounded by caring females who could address her personal needs, they banished Lucien to his own room to bathe and change. While his valet laid out fresh clothing and he waited for his own hot water, Lucien sent a missive to Clarehaven asking him to meet him back at Dalton's within the hour.

  "I could have used another hour or two of sleep," Clarehaven told Lucien with a wry smile when he arrived. "Your note said Dalton was restrained and Miss Longborough is safe. Is it so imperative that we deal with him immediately?"

  "Safe is not the same as unharmed." He told Clarehaven. "He beat her without mercy and, while I believe she will recover, it will be weeks before the evidence of his abuse fades." He released the catch on the gate, grateful he did not have to scale the wall a third time in the hours since leaving the Montfort ballroom. "I will not rest until he is properly dealt with."

  Lucien had hit upon a way to punish Dalton and guarantee he would not be able to hurt another woman in future. English law might not be quick to punish a peer, but many foreign locales did not defer to the peerage so predictably.

  "I shall sign Dalton over to a ship bound for the disease-ridden tropics of the East Indies." Lucien told Clarehaven, "He will be a deckhand after I have had a word with the captain to guarantee Dalton does not escape the ship, here or in any other port of call. Nor will he be accorded the deference of a peer. If arrangement cannot be made for the East Indies," he said as they crossed the garden, "I will arrange for him to be transported to the Barbary Coast and its infamous dungeons. Either way, the man will not return to England's shores."

  He entered the broken door to the kitchens and lead Clarehaven up to where Dalton waited. "We must keep him secure while I make the proper arrangements and the ship is ready to sail. It is too late for the morning tide and I won't chance his escaping the ship... particularly before it leaves England."

  He opened the door and immediately saw that Dalton had escaped his bonds. A scrabbling sound turned his attention to the window where Dalton clung to the sill, his head barely visible, his hands gripping the wood frame.

  Lucien shouted, “No!” and rushed forward, determined to prevent the man from escaping justice.

  Dalton gave a startled oath as his hands lost their grip, then cried out in alarm seconds before his body hit the ground some thirty feet below. Lucien reached the window and looked out. His stomach lurched and he slammed his fist on the windowsill in frustration.

  Dalton lay below, his back arched awkwardly over a low bench, his legs and arms splayed in unnatural positions. For an instant, Lucien thought him dead, but then he saw Dalton's chest rise and heard him groan in pain.

  When they descended the stairs and reached the garden Dalton still breathed, though blood seeped from his nose and ears. The heavy bone of his left thigh poked through the dark fabric of his pantaloons. Pink spittle drooled from his lips, and he grimaced at the very effort to breathe. He did not move– Lucien doubted he could with his back so obviously broken. Dalton opened his eyes, looked at the two men, and muttered. "I knew that spying little bitch would make trouble the first time I caught her watching me."

  CHAPTER 28

  It took him two hours to die.

  Lucien would have experienced pity for any other man whose injuries were so obviously fatal, but he remembered Charlotte’s battered face, and couldn’t. In the end, Lucien recognized an ironic justice to the agonizing pain Dalton suffered until his last breath. He supposed it might be called divine retribution.

  Clarehaven volunteered to report to the authorities that he found the house empty and Lord Dalton dead when he'd come to discuss a business matter. Since Lady Dalton's desertion was such a prominent subject of gossip, it would be a simple matter to explain the death as a suicide– which in a manner of speaking, it was. He had caused his own death by trying to escape from a third-floor window.

  "OH, CHARLOTTE,” ELIZABETH gasped when she helped Charlotte remove her dress before helping her into the bath. Her torso was marked with vivid red, purple and blue where Dalton had driven his fist into her stomach. Other, equally colorful marks showed at her hip, arm and shoulder from when Dalton had hit her hard enough to knock the chair over.

  Charlotte’s swollen eye would not open and the thickening of her lip, along with the sting where the skin had split, made it painful to talk. Nevertheless, it wasn't until she registered the shocked horror on the faces of her family and friends that she understood how much damage Dalton had inflicted.

  The doctor, when he examined her, had assured her the wounds would heal and that the damage would not leave scars. However, he’d been taken aback when he entered the room. She touched her fingers to the misshaped skin and winced. The doctor had warned her that the bruises would become more vivid in the next several days. She dreaded facing a mirror.

  At Charlotte's request, only Elizabeth stayed with her while she bathed. Sarah, though worried, was too young to be exposed to the fullness of Dalton's attack. Kind as Lucien's family were, she needed the comfort of her older sister. She missed her mother more than ever.

  In the aftermath of Lucien's rescue, Charlotte felt more vulnerable than she had when under Dalton's control. It seemed odd to be the one rescued instead of the rescuer. She was less sure of herself than she ever remembered being. And right now, her eye hurt, breathing sent waves of aching pain through her body, even to the tips of her fingers.

  The warm water stung the raw skin, but still felt like heaven as it eased the aches from her arms and body. The Duchess had insisted the water be sprinkled with herbal salts to further ease her abrasions, and the comforting scent of chamomile, comfrey, and lavender soothed her discomfort. She sighed and leaned her head back against the raised back of the tin tub. After a few minutes, she steeled herself to ask for a mirror.

  "Are you sure?" Elizabeth asked. "I can wash your face for you. I will be gentle."

  "I will do it myself," Charlotte said. "It is time I saw for myself how bad it looks."

  Elizabeth handed her the mirror and Charlotte took a deep breath before holding it in front of her face. Dear heavens. No wonder everyone paled at the sight of her. She dipped the face cloth into the water and carefully applied it to the dried blood on her cheek. It stung, but as the dampness dissolved the dried blood, the stiffness eased. She gingerly raised the cloth to her eye and commented, “I suppose leeches will be necessary, but they feel strange... and are quite disgusting.”

  When she was done, her skin no longer burned. She handed the mirror to Elizabeth and again leaned her head against the back of the tub. Charlotte
’s scalp was tender where Dalton had pulled her hair and each tug stung as Elizabeth undid the remaining pins and brushed out the tangles.

  Charlotte was tempted to remain in the water until it grew cold, but she found her eyes growing heavy and the lure of clean linen and the soft feather bed had her rising to use the towel Elizabeth offered. Within minutes of climbing between the sheets, she drifted into sleep.

  WHEN LUCIEN RETURNED, he told his stepmother and sister how Dalton had died. He'd intended to spare them the gruesome details of Dalton's injuries, but they surprised him with their insistence that he tell them everything. More disconcerting, he discovered that females were every bit as vengeful as men.

  They assured him the doctor had seen to Charlotte's injuries and verified that Charlotte was not permanently injured. Only after he stopped by Charlotte's room and saw for himself that she slept, and that Elizabeth watched over her, did he seek his own room and much needed rest. Before crawling into bed, he sent word to Ravencliffe, Norcross and Clarehaven inviting them to dinner in order to resolve any remaining issues to deal with Dalton's death.

  Several hours later, rested and in a much better frame of mind, Lucien again checked Charlotte's room. Sarah sat with her now. She glanced up from where she read a book in a chair by the bed while Charlotte still slept. Harry lay on the floor between them both. Four kittens lay curled against his side. The fifth chased a ball of yarn under the bed. He nodded at Sarah, then quietly closed the door and made his way downstairs.

  "I hope you are rested," His stepmother said when he joined her, Anne, and Elizabeth in the sitting room. "Because we have another problem."

  Lucien accepted the cup of tea she handed him and took the nearest seat. He took a sip of the tea and discovered she had added a splash of brandy to the cup. He raised his eyebrow and he saw her nod before she continued. "Lady Templeton paid us a visit this morning to inquire if Charlotte was taken ill last night."

  His sister gave an inelegant snort. "She came sniffing around for gossip. She noticed you were gone, too."

  That stone weighed again, but now it sank to his belly.

  "We told her Charlotte had developed a headache and that you had gone on to meet friends at your club," his stepmother said, "But I don't think she believed me."

  "She didn't want to believe you." Anne declared. She turned to Lucien. "She all but ordered us to have Charlotte make an appearance while she was here, but Mama told her Charlotte was still recovering from her headache. Mark my words," she told him grimly, "She will have Lord Templeton checking the clubs to verify if you were there."

  "And if that woman ever discovers that Charlotte was missing all night," Lucien finished for them, "Charlotte will be ruined."

  They looked at each other in turn. "It will be weeks before Charlotte can be seen in public." His stepmother voiced what they all knew. "Word will soon leak that something is amiss, which will only fuel the fire."

  "And Lady Templeton will be only too happy to supply the fuel," Anne said.

  "Perhaps we can say that she and her sisters were called home or are needed to help care for their cousin," his stepmother suggested. "Though it would mean Elizabeth and Sarah would be unable to take part in any activities until Charlotte is recovered."

  "Word would leak out that they are still here." Lucien countered. "No matter how loyal our staff, it would be impossible to conceal the presence of three additional females for so long."

  "That is true," the Duchess admitted.

  "Then we shall claim illness." Anne suggested. "Something contagious to prevent callers."

  "A contagion would put the entire household in quarantine," Lucien reminded her.

  "Then perhaps I should take a page from Lady Dalton's book and claim a fall down the stairs." Charlotte's voice came from the doorway.

  Startled, Lucien stood and hurried to the door where Charlotte leaned against Sarah's arm. He recognized the dark blue dressing gown she wore as one his stepmother occasionally wore when she felt poorly but could not remain in her room. It did not bind but covered her properly should someone other than family see her. Charlotte's hair hung in a long, braided rope down her back.

  "She woke shortly after you left and insisted on coming down," Sarah told Lucien when he reached them. He added his support and led her to the chair he'd vacated.

  "You should not be out of bed."

  "I am sore," Charlotte told him, "but I am not broken." Her uninjured eye sought his gaze. "I had to know what happened."

  "He is dead." When she gave a start and her eyes riveted on his in question, he explained Dalton's bid for escape.

  Charlotte's shoulders bowed for a moment, and she took a deep breath. "He will not be able to hurt anyone again." Then she slowly straightened. "Is there any way to inform Lady Dalton that she is truly free?"

  "I suggested she write, using her assumed name, to let you know she had arrived safely. If she does, you will be able to send her word."

  She tried to smile but winced when it pulled her lip. She turned to the Duchess. "Perhaps we should invite Lady Templeton to tea. I could drape myself dramatically at the base of the stair when she arrives so she can verify my story. I shall claim that Harry knocked me off my feet and I fell."

  That made them all chuckle.

  "I don't believe you need to go quite so far as that," the Duchess said. "It does occur to me, though, that as the doctor was called, we might encourage the servants to spread the word that Charlotte fell after coming home with that imaginary headache." She smiled wryly. "Everyone knows that the gossip one hears from their servants is more trustworthy– and scandalous– than the official story." She stood to leave the room. "I shall speak with Mrs. Abbot."

  Lucien stood, too. He bent down and scooped Charlotte from the chair. "You will return to your room and rest." He straightened and carried her to the door.

  "I’ve been asleep for hours," Charlotte told him as he carried her up the stairs. "I don’t need to rest."

  "You will tire more easily than you think."

  "At which time I could rest. But for now, I prefer to remain in the sitting room."

  "And I prefer that you remain in your bedchamber."

  WHEN CLAREHAVEN, RAVENCLIFFE, and Norcross arrived that evening, Lucien discovered Charlotte in the drawing room again. She thanked them all for their roles in trying to find her. The swelling at her lip and eye looked only slightly less garish since being washed, but the ravages of her treatment filled Lucien with remorse that he had not protected her. He should have anticipated her danger and kept her in sight no matter how many eyebrows raised and or teasing remarks were made. He’d been a fool and Charlotte paid the price.

  After she thanked them, Charlotte excused herself with the rueful comment, "I shall not be joining you at the table as I find chewing a bit of a challenge at the moment. Cook has prepared a fortifying bowl of soup for me, however, which is awaiting me in my room."

  Elizabeth escorted Charlotte up the stairs, then rejoined them when Timmons announced that dinner was served.

  After dinner, they settled into Lucien's office to report on the aftermath of the day's events. Ravencliffe and Norcross had been informed of Charlotte's condition and Dalton's fate before they arrived at Wolverton House, but now expressed their shock at the severity of Charlotte’s injuries.

  "An hour after my contacting the authorities about Dalton I went to Whites and word had already begun to circulate about his death. The air of ridicule that surrounded the gossip last night has altered to sympathy that he could not face life without his wife."

  As incorrect as that assumption was, Lucien was grateful that Charlotte's name was not linked to either of the Daltons.

  His gratitude was proven premature, however, when Ravencliffe warned him, "Templeton has been asking about you and your whereabouts last night. Our meeting at Whites was noted, but that was several hours after you left the ball. I gather that he is raising questions about where you were before we arrived... particularly
after it was noted Charlotte also disappeared around the same time. I do not doubt his wife sent him to sniff out scandal."

  Ravencliffe leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs at the same time as he said, "I reminded Templeton that as the lady in question was a guest in your home, it was unlikely you would need to spirit her away from a public ballroom."

  "I appreciate your pointing out that bit of logic." Lucien stood and paced the room. "But gossip mongers always like to plant the seeds of doubt." His lips curled and he gave a depreciating sigh. "I told Montfort I was called away to assist a friend in the hope that the story would be accepted in simple terms. It seems a falsehood made to avoid scandal is of little use to those who believe only what they want to believe." He turned and directed his gaze to each of his friends and told them. "As to Miss Longborough, the duchess told Lady Templeton that Charlotte developed a severe headache, and it was she who sent the lady home."

  "That story may be disregarded by some." Norcross said with a frown. "Marshburn claims he saw Harry following a closed carriage early this morning. He holds the Longborough's in low esteem, so he took great delight in raising suppositions as to what that signified. In fact, he has placed a wager that Miss Longborough has surrendered her virtue and offers a reward to anyone who can discover to whom."

  CHAPTER 29

  Lucien's ire rose again. He was all too aware that Dalton might have inflicted that particular insult to the injuries Charlotte had suffered. To hear it spoken aloud and with such salacious curiosity made the wager all the more obscene. Nor would the insults end there. The snide looks, smirking laughter, and taunting remarks that had followed his father's actions would pale to what Charlotte faced from the notoriety of the betting books. His family had survived the gossip over time, but a woman's reputation would not recover.