One Night of Scandal

by Darcy Burke

  “Of course I would find you. I would search to the corners of the earth, to the very end of time. You are mine, Viola. I love you.”

  Tears of joy slipped down her cheeks, and he wiped the moisture away. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

  “I can’t help it. I’ve never been this happy. I love you too.”

  He kissed her, and they clasped each other as if the world might tear them apart. It was a few moments before she took a shuddering breath and looked up into his face once more. “I hadn’t planned to marry you.”

  He cocked his head to the side as a sliver of ice shot down his spine. “What do you mean?”

  “I tried to tell you we didn’t have to wed. You didn’t want to get married.”

  “I do now. Scandal or not, I want you, Viola. I love you. I need you.” He stroked her cheek. “You wouldn’t have left me at the altar, would you?”

  She shook her head. “No. I couldn’t have done it. I tried so hard not to love you, not to be vulnerable—I wasn’t sure you loved me in return.”

  He laughed. “How could you not know? I was fairly certain my heart was on my sleeve for all to see.”

  She smiled up at him, her hands moving across his back. “I can see it now. And it’s mine.”

  “It is indeed.” He kissed her once more, then took her hand and led her from the alley. “Come, we need to get you home, and I need to visit Bow Street.”

  “I’m coming with you. For the book.”

  He paused when they reached the street and looked at her. “The book? You mean the article you’re writing.”

  She shook her head. “I think I’d rather write a book. Unless we can find out who the informer is and why he infiltrated the Spenceans.”

  “That’s what I want to do.” The idea that Caldwell or other members of Parliament had planted someone inside the Spenceans was incredibly troubling. What had been their motive? Was it to implicate Jack all along, or was it bigger than that? He wanted to address Caldwell, and he would.

  He hailed a hack, and they were soon on their way to Berkeley Square.

  Chapter 15

  More than an hour later, Viola sat in an office at Bow Street while Jack paced in front of the hearth. The weather had turned dreary, and there was a chill in the air, but even the warm fire couldn’t banish the feeling of foreboding.

  “Why is this taking so long?” Jack asked.

  They’d arrived some time ago after stopping in Berkeley Square so Viola could quickly transform herself from Tavistock to Lady Viola. Then they’d hurried here in Grandmama’s coach, which was now parked outside.

  Thankfully, Grandmama had still been napping, because it would have taken far too long to explain what they were about. And why it was necessary for them to go to Bow Street. Together. Alone.

  It was a good thing they’d already caused a scandal and were on their way to the altar.

  The door opened, and Viola couldn’t quite believe who entered. Lord Orford greeted them with a firm nod.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Viola.” He bowed to her, then turned to Jack, offering his hand. “Barrett.”

  Jack gripped the man’s hand, but his expression was a mix of curiosity and skepticism. “I thought we were going to see a runner.”

  “Not for this.” Orford sat down in a chair angled next to the short settee where Viola sat. “Would you mind taking a seat?” He looked at Jack and gestured next to Viola.

  Frowning, Jack descended to the settee. She could feel the tension swirling in him.

  “Why are you here?” Jack asked.

  “It’s complicated. The clerk, Mr. Stafford, has asked that I speak with you. I apologize that it took so long for me to arrive.”

  Jack studied him. “You were still at Westminster?”

  “I was. I had to deal with a matter there regarding Mr. Caldwell.”

  “He is part of the crime,” Jack said with disgust.

  “I’ve been apprised of what happened with Lady Viola.” He looked toward Viola, and his gaze softened with sympathy. “I’m terribly sorry for the trauma they caused you.”

  Jack sat forward, his mouth hard and his gaze sparking with fury. “Out with it, Orford. Why are you here, and what have you to do with informers and instigators and rumors of my involvement with the attack on the Prince Regent?”

  “I shall try to explain as best I can, but there are aspects of this…situation that are extremely sensitive and cannot be disclosed.”

  The foreboding Viola had felt intensified.

  Orford looked to Jack. “You met Mr. Castle at the Spencean meeting?” When Jack nodded, he continued. “He is an informer, and I’m afraid he shared your presence at the meeting with Caldwell, whom I’d hoped would be an aid in this…situation. I unfortunately miscalculated Caldwell’s trustworthiness, as well as his honor.” He looked at both of them in apology.

  Jack gaped at him. “The government has placed an informer in the Spencean Philanthropists—that’s madness.”

  It was as if Orford hadn’t even heard him. “I’m sorry this happened. Caldwell had his own objectives that I was not privy to. He’d been looking for a way to get you expelled from your seat and sought to make it look as if you were somehow involved in the attack on the Prince.” He shook his head grimly. “Caldwell will no longer be occupying his seat, nor will Pennington or Sir Humphrey. They will not bother you in any way ever again.”

  Jack narrowed his eyes at Orford. “Do you work for the Home Office?”

  Orford didn’t respond, and his expression remained bland. To Viola, that seemed as much an admission as if he’d said yes. Especially given the conversations she’d had with him—as if he’d been trying to learn information about the rumor surrounding the attack. Perhaps he’d been doing so on behalf of the Home Office. She reached for Jack’s hand and found he was still tense.

  He frowned at Orford. “I’m not sure I trust you—or whoever is in charge—to ensure that happens. If anyone threatens or harms my wife, I will not sit idly by.”

  While she wasn’t yet his wife, the word thrilled her. She squeezed his hand and was grateful when he clasped hers in return.

  “I fully understand your position. I would feel the same way.” Orford glanced toward Viola, and she thought she detected a hint of remorse. He returned his attention to Jack. “You’re a lucky man to have found such a bride. I offer you both my felicitations.”

  “Thank you,” Viola said softly.

  “And now I must ask that you keep all you have learned today completely confidential.”

  Viola let go of Jack’s hand and sat forward. “We can’t say a word? I was going to write a story about this. People should know what is happening.”

  Orford shook his head firmly. “You cannot. In exchange, Caldwell and his cohorts will not trouble you, and no one will ever know the identity of Mr. Tavistock. Though I do suggest he stop writing for the Ladies’ Gazette and perhaps relocate to a far-off corner of the country.”

  “He already has,” Viola said with more than a little irritation as her dream of publishing an important news story slipped through her fingers.

  “Excellent.” Orford stood abruptly. “I think we’re finished, then.”

  Jack rose and helped Viola to her feet. “I suppose we are. Good afternoon.” He inclined his head, then escorted Viola from the office and outside to where the coach awaited them.

  Raindrops pelted them as they dashed into the vehicle. Once they were inside, Jack let out an oath. Then he apologized. “It’s bloody frustrating.”

  “I know.”

  He turned toward her on the seat. “I’m so sorry about your story.”

  “It’s all right.” It wasn’t really, but she’d get over it. “As it happens, I was making notes earlier today about that book I’d like to write.”

  “Yes, what is this book about?”

  “Well now, it’s about spies and intrigue and, of course, love.”

  “Of course.” He twined his arms around her and drew he
r against him. Then he lowered his head and inhaled her scent before kissing her neck. “I much prefer you as Viola.”

  She tossed his hat to the rear-facing seat and cupped the back of his head, thrusting her fingers into his dark hair. “That’s relieving to know.”

  “Tell me about the love part of your book.”

  “There’s a brilliant man who seeks to help an aspiring reporter with an important news story that will expose corruption at the highest levels of government.”

  He peered up at her. “The highest levels?”

  “That’s a new idea that just came to me. I’m still exploring what that means. Perhaps the king—my book can’t be based in the present—hires someone to try to assassinate himself in order to gain sympathy for laws that would control the rebellious working classes.”

  He stared at her, arousal darkening his eyes. “Good God, you’re brilliant. And terrifying. You can’t write a story like that.”

  She made a disgruntled sound behind pursed lips. “No, I suppose not. But I’ll come up with something.”

  He went back to kissing her neck, his lips trailing down to the hollow, making her shiver. “I am happy to help. Especially with the love part.”

  “Good. As it happens, that is the part I would like the most help with.”

  Jack clasped the hem of her gown and swept it up her leg. A moment later, she felt his hand along her inner thigh.

  She gasped in surprise and anticipation. “We’ll be in Berkeley Square soon.”

  He rose up next to her as his fingers found her already wet sheath. “Then I shall be quick.” He gave her a devilish smile just before he kissed her.

  “Not too quick, I hope,” she murmured between kisses.

  “Don’t worry, my love. I shall repeat this and a thousand other things until you tire of me.”

  She held him fiercely and looked into his eyes with all the love in her heart. “That will never happen.”

  Epilogue

  “A toast to the bride and groom!” Jack’s father raised his glass of champagne at the dinner party hosted by the dowager. Though it hadn’t yet been a week since their betrothal, Jack felt as though he were a member of the family.

  Eastleigh had welcomed him warmly. He and his wife smiled at Jack from the opposite side of the table. And while the dowager could never be described as warm or welcoming, she was engaging and interested in Jack, both as a person and as her granddaughter’s soon-to-be husband.

  Soon-to-be.

  Tomorrow seemed so far away, and yet it was so close he could taste it. He looked to his left at Viola, who sipped her champagne. Her gaze met his, and in it, he saw the love he felt reflected back at him.

  The past several days had been a whirlwind of planning for the wedding and her relocation to his town house. She felt bad leaving her grandmother and had asked him if he would consider relocating here to Berkeley Square next Season. Jack said he’d think about it, but he’d already made up his mind that they should. It seemed he’d fallen in love with all the Fairfaxes.

  After dinner, they repaired to the drawing room instead of splitting up by sex. Eastleigh clapped Jack on the back as they entered. “Port or brandy?”

  “Port, I think. Thank you.” Jack accompanied him to the sideboard. “My father will take brandy.”

  Eastleigh poured the drinks, including three extra glasses of port. “These are for the ladies.”

  “Viola likes port after dinner?” Jack asked. At Eastleigh’s nod, he made a mental note. He still had so much to learn about his bride, and he looked forward to every detail.

  Eastleigh picked up two of the glasses for the others, while Jack took the other two. “I wanted to let you know we’ve also banned Pennington from the Wicked Duke, not that he’ll likely show his face anywhere in London for some time.”

  The resignation from Parliament of Pennington, Caldwell, and Sir Humphrey had eclipsed any scandal surrounding Viola and Jack’s hasty nuptials. Viola had done her part to amplify it by including considerable information about them for her monthly column, which she’d amended just before the Ladies’ Gazette had gone to print. Released yesterday, Tavistock’s “farewell” column was all the talk, so much so that the editor had written Viola late today and begged her to reconsider leaving.

  As Jack delivered brandy to his father and port to Viola, he remembered the day she’d turned in the column, and smiled.

  Viola took the glass from him, brushing her fingers against his. “Why are you grinning?”

  “I was just thinking of your editor’s face when you turned in your column as yourself instead of Tavistock.” Jack hadn’t realized a jaw could drop so far.

  Having just taken a sip of her port, Viola struggled to swallow and suppress a giggle. “Not fair of you to mention that while I’m drinking.”

  “You asked why I was smiling. That’s why.”

  “That was a lovely moment, wasn’t it?”

  “One you wholly deserved.” They’d discussed whether she should reveal her true identity to them, but she was confident they wouldn’t tell anyone. They were horrified to learn they’d employed a woman and didn’t want anyone to know. Jack bent and kissed her temple, then returned to the sideboard to fetch his port.

  Eastleigh had also come back for his. “I’m so pleased you and Viola found each other, even if it was a rather unorthodox path.” He chuckled. “Not that I am one to talk. It took me ten years to realize what I wanted—what I needed—had been right in front of me all along.”

  “My father made that mistake,” Jack said. “Not that you made a mistake,” he added quickly.

  Swallowing a sip of port, Eastleigh nodded. “I definitely made a mistake. If I’d realized I loved Isabelle when we’d first met, I could’ve saved us a great deal of…” He shook his head. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. It only matters that we’re together now and forever.”

  Jack was especially glad he’d decided to ignore his self-imposed timetable for his career and marriage. He could have both. He would have both.

  “Why are you standing over there muttering between yourselves?” the dowager asked. “Come and sit with us.”

  They hastened to join the others, Jack settling onto a sofa next to Viola, and Eastleigh doing the same beside his wife.

  “We weren’t muttering,” Eastleigh said. “We were celebrating our good fortune at having found love.”

  “There is nothing finer than true love,” Jack’s father said.

  Jack looked over at his sire and glimpsed a mist in his eyes he’d rarely seen. He’d been overjoyed to learn Jack was not only getting married but that he’d fallen in love. Honestly, Jack was fairly certain he’d been happier than when Jack had been called to the bar or when he’d been sent to Parliament.

  “Hear, hear!” the dowager agreed, and they all drank a toast.

  Viola leaned over to Jack and whispered, “I suppose we have scandal to thank.”

  “I will thank whomever or whatever I must for the rest of my life.” He tapped his glass to hers. “To scandal. And to you. You’ve made me the happiest man alive.”

  “No, you’ve made me the happiest man—and woman.” She winked at him, and he chuckled low in his throat as he kissed her cheek.

  He spoke so only she could hear. “If you don so much as a whisker again, I shall have to consider wearing a gown just to spite you.”

  Her eyes glowed with heat. “I don’t care what you wear so long as you take it off.”

  “Careful, Viola, or you’ll cause a scandal right here in your grandmother’s drawing room.”

  She gave him a captivating smile that was quintessentially Viola. “Who said one scandal was ever enough?”

  Jack took her hand and pressed a kiss to her wrist. “With you, my love, nothing could ever be enough.”

  * * *

  What happens when Giles Langford—a penniless daredevil—falls in love with the Duke of Colehaven's sister? Find out in ONE NIGHT TO REMEMBER.

  Thank You!
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  Thank you so much for reading One Night of Scandal. I hope you enjoyed it! Don’t miss the next book in the Wicked Dukes Club, ONE NIGHT TO REMEMBER!

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  Catch up with my other historical series: The Spitfire Society, The Untouchables, Secrets and Scandals, and Legendary Rogues. If you like contemporary romance, I hope you’ll check out my Ribbon Ridge series available from Avon Impulse, and the continuation of Ribbon Ridge in So Hot.

  I appreciate my readers so much. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

  Also by Darcy Burke

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  One Night for Seduction by Erica Ridley

  One Night of Surrender by Darcy Burke

  One Night of Passion by Erica Ridley

  One Night of Scandal by Darcy Burke

  One Night to Remember by Erica Ridley

  One Night of Temptation by Darcy Burke

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  The Spitfire Society

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  Never Have I Ever With a Duke

  A Duke is Never Enough

  A Duke Will Never Do