Scandal's Deception

by Pamela Gibson

  “I don’t understand your reluctance. Gilbert is a good man. Marrying him will give you protection and allow you to weather the terrible storm that you will face. A woman couldn’t ask for a better husband, even if I am talking about my brother.”

  Jane nibbled her toast and laid it on her plate. Her appetite had fled along with her guardian. “I agree, but I cannot marry someone to preserve my honor. He doesn’t—”

  “What, dear?” Lady Elizabeth leaned closer, as if her hearing was impaired. “He doesn’t what?”

  “He doesn’t love me.”

  Lacy Elizabeth frowned. “Few people in the ton marry for love, Jane.”

  “I am not one of them.” There, she’d said it.

  When she’d encountered him in the library, she’d felt positively wicked. Imagine, alone with a man in her nightgown and robe, even though the garments were thick, heavy, and covered her from neck to toe. She loved sparring with him, matching wits, arguing politics and social norms. Most of all, she loved kissing him.

  If opposites attract, then she was thoroughly smitten. Where she was obstinate and spontaneous, he was accommodating and organized. Her schooling had been unusual. His had been ordinary. She devoured words and loved using unusual ones. He rarely drifted from plain speech. His goal was to be understood as simply and promptly as possible.

  She loved his eyes and his gentleness and his soft smiles. His need to protect her made her feel wanted and cherished. When he’d proposed, for one long minute of time, her heart had pounded with excitement. Then his motive became clear. He was doing it out of a sense of duty.

  Duty. That was all she was to him, despite the brief, perfunctory kiss they’d shared during her education about rogues. And the heat of the one they’d shared on the cliff. A mistake, he’d said.

  She would not marry a man who had worn his bachelorhood like a golden coronet, with pride and determination. She would not marry a man who didn’t love her.

  In that moment, her heart cracked and splintered into a thousand pieces. Had he even hinted at love, she would have known and responded differently. She didn’t need pretty words. She did need him to look at her with longing and maybe a little heat as he proposed.

  He had not.

  Now she wasn’t sure what would happen. Mother wasn’t coming all this way for a social call. She was arriving to make Jane go back to London, to Jocelyn, and ruin.

  She got up from the table and leaned on her hands. “I am not feeling well today, Lady Elizabeth. I am going to take a walk and hope the fresh air will restore me.”

  “’Tis cold out. Tell my maid to fetch my heavy cloak. You may borrow it while you are here.”

  “Thank you. I don’t know what I would have done if I’d had to go back to London yesterday.”

  “You would have been fine. You’re a strong young woman, Jane. Never doubt yourself.”

  She left the room in search of the maid. When she found her, she donned the cloak and ran outside, heading for a stand of trees behind the house. The weather had turned cold, but the spring morning was crisp and clear, beckoning a walker to linger in the sun. The trees thinned as she crested the hill showing a magnificent view.

  Wherever Ralston had gone, he’d headed out early. If only he’d held her in his arms and told her he loved her, she would have agreed to wed him in a cow pasture.

  She walked briskly back toward the house, making a loop that took her to the stables. Inside, she cornered the head groom. “Did Lord Ralston say when he would return?”

  “No, miss. It won’t be today. He had a valise with him.”

  “Thank you.”

  Frustrated with the news, she strode back into the house and into her room. Her temporary maid wasn’t around so she headed for the library. She had planning to do, and there was ink and paper in the desk in the corner of the room. It helped to physically write down her ideas, especially when turmoil tore at her insides and muddled her thinking.

  After last night, she couldn’t remain here, and there was nowhere else. She’d invaded Lady Amelia’s peace for weeks and couldn’t in good conscience impose upon her again.

  She couldn’t live with Ralston. Not now when seeing him tore holes in her heart. If only he’d mentioned affection. Now she would decline his gracious offer of marriage and wait out her final year of dependency. Ralston was an honorable man. He would not withhold her funds or her property when she reached her majority, even if he thought her foolish.

  There was only one thing she could do, and it pained her to think of it. She must return to London with her mother. She needed to convince Jocelyn that what had happened was in her best interests.

  Her sister had fallen in love with the wrong man. There would be others.

  But not for me. I am the soiled one.

  She’d do whatever mother wanted her to do to help her sister overcome the injustice of having her name associated with that kidnapping lout. She’d then beg for peace and would hide herself somewhere—her room, the seaside cottage, wherever her mother thought best.

  And wait.

  She sat at the desk and made a list of what she might do to occupy herself for the coming year. She could don the widow’s weeds and veil and go out with her maid to museums. She could visit the Tower and other places of interest available to visitors. She could ride in Rotten Row at dawn when most denizens of the ton were asleep, having returned from their pursuits in the wee hours of the morning.

  It was a good plan. Not the best. She’d have to bury her pride and keep tart responses from her lips. She could endure it.

  Satisfied with her list, she set it aside and opened the book she’d tried to read before going in search of brandy the night before. There was nothing to pack. She’d leave the tattered dress she arrived in behind and would return the borrowed garments to Lady Elizabeth once they were laundered.

  Her list lay on a table near the bed. Under it was a note addressed to Lord Ralston. It was her response.

  “I cannot marry you and disrupt the life you have planned for yourself. Thank you for your rescue. I shall return to London with Mother and live there for the coming year. One day I hope to make the seaside cottage my home. There will be no one about to worry about my reputation there. It reminds me of home, and I shall be happy. Please do not share this missive with Mother. I need time to think and plan. I’m sure you understand.”

  She wanted to say, I cannot marry a man who does not love me. That would require an embarrassing explanation. She would have a year to sort out her own feelings. Perhaps with Gilbert far away she would cease to love him.

  Carriage wheels on the drive alerted her to her mother’s arrival. She was early. She must have started yesterday and broken up the trip with an overnight stay in an inn.

  Jane swallowed and composed her features.

  It was time to turn the page and enter a new chapter in her life.

  Chapter 36

  Jane met her mother at the door and led her to the formal sitting room. Not one hair escaped Lady Siltsbury’s elaborate coiffure, and no wrinkles appeared in her gown of amber silk. As always, she seemed to have walked off a fashion plate in La Belle Assemblee.

  Jane fidgeted with her skirt. Her own appearance left much to be desired. In Lady Elizabeth’s cast-off day dress, she must look as frumpy as she felt. Her hair was fashioned in a long braid, and she folded and unfolded her hands in her lap while dear Mama quizzed her.

  “You are sure you are unharmed?” Mother leaned back against the cushions of the settee, the picture of elegance.

  “Nothing happened,” she lied, because she needed to talk to Jocelyn first, to determine if the pawing that had taken place in the carriage was a normal occurrence when she and the marquis were together.

  “He said he would not marry you, er, Jocelyn?”

  “Indeed, h
e expected a wedding night without the blessings of marriage.”

  Lady Siltsbury’s eyes closed, and Jane studied the features of the perfect creature in front of her. Was she thinking, or was thought formation too taxing for fashionable women of the ton?

  “It’s hard to believe. I’ve known Leisterbridge for years. I’ve watched him at balls, and when he took an interest in your sister, I was gratified beyond belief. He always seemed a perfect gentleman.”

  “Not a gentleman. A macaroni. A peacock. We used those terms years ago in America to describe men who were smitten with their own appearance.”

  She scoffed. “You’re bitter. You don’t really know him. You must have done something to lead him on.”

  Jane jumped to her feet. “How dare you! I gambled away my reputation for my sister. I pretended to be her when I knew such deception was scandalous if ever discovered. I carried on exactly as I’d been taught. The man is a rogue. A charlatan. A chameleon. He changes his appearance when out of sight of the ton, so they won’t report ill behavior to his father. His true self emerges in the dark, among his crude friends. My reputation is in shambles. But you know what? I don’t care. I want to be left alone with my books. I’ll go about in those black garments with a heavy veil. I shall survive this coming year. And then I shall reside in the cottage Father left to me.”

  “In the meantime you will come home with me, and we will sort all this out.”

  She squeezed her tightly folded hands in her lap. “Yes. ’Tis best.”

  “I’m glad you are not being stubborn. Gather your things. I stayed overnight at an inn so we could get an early start and be home by nightfall. I’m afraid your sister has many questions for you. She’s devastated. Taken to her bed. We must decide how both of you will be seen together, so it will be known that Jocelyn was not the one abducted.”

  “Of course. We protect dear Jocelyn at all costs.” Heat spiked in her cheeks as she stared at her mother who at least had the decency to look guilty.

  Mother slowly gazed around the room. “I was hoping to speak to Ralston. I see he is not at home.”

  “He has gone off somewhere. I know not where.”

  “Elizabeth told me as much. I must thank him in person for delivering my daughter home safely.”

  Jane did not elaborate on the reason he had left. In fact, she wasn’t sure why he’d gone. He expected her to be here when he returned to give him an answer. Should she tell Mother? No. Mother would only urge acceptance. Jane was in no mood to be anything other than rebellious. It served her purpose to leave here before Ralston returned.

  Coward.

  Her note stated her intentions and implored him not to mention his proposal to Mother. She could fight one of them. Not both.

  Lady Elizabeth must not have told Mother. Ralston had apparently shared his news with his sister before he departed.

  Before an hour passed, they were off to London in a well-sprung coach with the Siltsbury crest on the door. Not caring to make conversation, Jane dozed off and on in the coach which was roomy and well-equipped with blankets and pillows. When they arrived, it was dusk, and she was ushered through the back door, just as she had been upon her first visit. Nosy neighbors would not see her in her borrowed attire.

  She fled to her room and made sure the connecting door to Jocelyn’s room was firmly locked. She was still recovering from her ordeal and gladly let Mary order her a bath and a tray in her room. Tomorrow she would sit down with her sister and find out what was what. Tonight, she needed scented water, her own nightgown, and a hearty meal to set her to rights.

  If wishes could only be truths.

  She’d barely immersed herself in the soothing water when there was a loud knock on the door.

  “Jane? Why is this door locked? I must speak to you.”

  “I’m tired, Jocelyn. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  She allowed herself to sink into the depths of the tub, laying her head back against the rim and closing her eyes.

  The door to the hallway burst open.

  “I cannot wait.” Jocelyn strode into the room and stood with arms crossed at the end of the tub.

  “Is there no privacy in this house? Please allow me to finish my bath, and I promise to unlock the adjoining door. You can quiz me while I have my dinner.”

  “I’ll have mine sent up, too.”

  “If you insist. Now please leave me.”

  Jocelyn stalked out and banged the door shut. Mary, who had faded into a corner of the room, stepped forward. “We should have locked the door to the hallway, milady. I didn’t expect such unbecoming behavior, especially from someone who has spent her entire life training to be a lady.”

  “Nor did I. Please lock the door now before Mother decides to have words with me.”

  Mary turned the heavy key in the lock, and Jane closed her eyes once again, allowing herself the comfort of heated water. As the tension in her body began to ease, her thoughts turned to Ralston. Had he found her note by now? Perhaps he’d returned late and hadn’t read it yet.

  She would not give up her independence for a man who offered marriage because he had failed in his duty. The sharp-clawed tabbies could scratch away at her reputation. She’d hold her head high and ignore them.

  It cannot be as bad as everyone says.

  Since she was to get no peace, she scrubbed herself clean and signaled to Mary to bring the toweling. When she was as dry as she could be, she donned her nightgown and robe and sat in a chair so Mary could tend her. Having someone brush and braid her hair when she was perfectly capable of doing it herself was a guilty pleasure. Tonight her body was boneless after her ordeal, and all she wanted was her dinner and bed.

  A soft knock alerted Mary to unlock the door. Two maids brought in the dinner trays, setting them on the table.

  “I guess it’s time to let Jocelyn in. Can you go through the door to her chamber and tell her dinner has arrived?”

  She bobbed a curtsy and left, returning quickly with Jocelyn in tow.

  “Can you talk now?” Jocelyn’s mouth was set in a firm line.

  “I shall if you promise to listen. I’ll tell you everything that happened. But first I have a few questions for you.”

  Her sister glared in response, her bottom lip quivering. Mary pulled out the chair, and Jocelyn sat.

  “Let’s eat while we talk. I’m positively famished.” Jane raised her fork and stabbed a piece of fowl. It was cold, but the roll with it was warm, and there was a fruit tart for dessert and a glass of red wine.

  Her twin swallowed a few bites and put down her fork. “Ask away. I shall not leave until I hear the entire story from your lips.”

  How was she to put this? Jane didn’t think of herself adept at diplomatic speech. The topic was sensitive, and she didn’t know how her sister would react. “What made you think the marquis was going to offer marriage?”

  She answered quickly. “He danced with me twice at two different balls. Everyone expected a declaration.”

  “Is that a rule somewhere?”

  “I, uh, I’m sure it must be. It indicates heavy interest.”

  “Were you ever alone with him at any of those balls or at another social occasion?”

  “A few times perhaps.”

  “And did you allow certain intimacies like kissing and fondling?”

  She shoved her chair back and rose, her bosom heaving. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing.”

  Aghast at what she must ask, she tried again. “Come now, sister. You can be frank with me. I’ve read the classics. I know what love does to one’s senses. I know your heart was involved. You cared deeply for him, not only for what his eventual title would bring you. I may not know you well, but I understand that. So be honest. It’s important.”

  Good lord, I sound like my fa
ther in a courtroom.

  Her twin focused on her clasped hands. “Perhaps once or twice there was kissing and . . . and other intimacies I shall not name.” Her cheeks were aflame, and Jane knew very well what those intimacies had been.

  “All right. Open your ears and your mind to what I’m going to say. First, the man did not love you.”

  “He did. I know it.”

  “No, he did not. He is in love with himself. No other.”

  “But he said—”

  “I don’t care what he said. Did you know his father has pledged him to another? The banns are to be read soon.”

  “You are making this up to hurt me.”

  “I am not.”

  “You led him on. You want him for yourself.”

  “That would be difficult since everyone at the ball, including Aubrey, thought I was you.”

  Jocelyn hung her head. It was time for the rest. “He forced me into his carriage. I thought perhaps he did love you in some convoluted way and might be taking you to Gretna. Instead, the carriage conveyed us to a property near St. Albans. He never intended to marry you, Jocelyn. Ravish you? Yes. He thought you willing. Afterward, you would have been tossed away, along with your reputation, like scraps from a dinner plate.”

  “No! I don’t believe you.” Jocelyn’s eyes glistened with unshed tears as she rose abruptly.

  Jane got to her feet and pushed her sister back into the chair. “You wanted details, and details you shall have. You promised to listen. When I’m through, I’m going to bed, and you can trot back into your room and throw something. I highly recommend it.”

  She went back to her chair and gave her sister the full account of the ball, the abduction, and the rescue. When she finished, she rose and led her sobbing sister back to her room.

  Exhausted, she finally climbed into her own bed and tried to shut out the horrid memories crowding her brain. She hated disabusing her sister. It had to be done. Jocelyn would be fine. She had her spots and welts to protect her.