Rising from her chair, she pressed both hands to the small of her back and stretched the knots that formed after sitting for too many hours. She collected her notes for two pending cases, turned off the gaslight valve, and started for the door.
A sound in the hall stopped her midstride. The hour was nearing midnight, two of the offices adjoining hers were unoccupied, and the other tenant, Mr. Simms, kept a clockwork schedule, always departing at five twenty-five to catch an omnibus to his Thames-side home.
From the dark of her office, she could see a man as he approached down the hall, his shadow growing in breadth and height as he loomed nearer. It wasn’t another late-night visit from Lord Cecil. This stranger’s bulk would have dwarfed the older man’s thin frame.
She cast a gaze back at the cabinet where she kept her father’s antique weapons and wondered how quietly she could slide across the scuffed wood floor to retrieve a means of defending herself.
The man on the other side of the glass paused outside her door and attempted to twist the latch.
Tavia held her breath, trying not to make a sound.
“Damn and bloody hell.” A palm flattened with a resounding thud against the frame around her door.
Tavia reached for the latch, fumbling in the dark to find the key in the pocket of her skirt.
“Octavia?”
Her heart thrashed in her chest, and tears burned her eyes. “Killian, I’m here.”
“Thank God.” The relief in his voice echoed her own rush of pleasure at hearing his voice again. “Will you open the door, sweetheart?”
“I’m searching for the key.” She’d left the dratted thing on her desk and rushed back to search the blotter.
“I’m sorry, Octavia,” he said through the glass. “You must know that first and foremost.”
Cool brass brushed her fingertips. She snatched up the skeleton key and pivoted toward the door.
“You’ll make logical arguments, I fear.” With his fingertip, he began shaping the painted letters of her name. “But I—”
Tavia swung the door open, and her heart flooded with joy. He looked devastating in white tie and a black suit, with his golden-brown hair pulled back in a queue. Her mouth watered, and every part of her body began fizzing, as if she’d been jolted by electricity and its power hummed through her veins.
“Tavia,” he finally said on a gasp, as if he’d skipped a breath. He closed the distance between them and looked down at her, his gaze darting over every aspect of her face, as if he was memorizing her features. “God, I’ve missed you.”
I’ve missed you. She didn’t attempt the words because she couldn’t manage them and keep her promise not to cry. “Killian,” was all that emerged. And that was enough. It felt exquisite to have his name on her tongue again. “Killian.”
His arms came around her, warm and broad and strong. She didn’t melt as she wished to. First, she needed to know. “You do forgive me? I had nothing to do with your arrest. No idea that’s what Cecil had planned. As soon as you left, I sought out Caroline Bannister.”
Lines furrowed his brow. “So you’re the reason she changed her mind and retracted her statement.” His forehead smoothed as he smiled at her. “Thank you, my darling, clever love. But, Tavia, I came to ask your forgiveness.” He bent and placed a kiss on her forehead. A comforting, tender act that somehow managed to set her blood aflame. “I hate the way we parted.”
“Yes, me too.” She tipped her face up for a taste of his lips, but he demurred, taking his time and placing a kiss on the tip of her nose. Torturing her by nuzzling her cheek, and then the other. Even giving her chin a soft, tantalizing brush of his mouth. Then, finally, he took her lips. Slowly, gently, he stroked her with his tongue. Tasting, savoring, as if time was theirs now, and they would have plenty of it.
Afterward, he settled his hands around her waist and pulled her body flush with his. “As I was saying.” His gaze locked on hers, serious and yet lit with mirth. “Your arguments will not dissuade me. Not even the queen can dissuade me this time. You’re mine, and I need you.”
“I need you too.” Tavia knew there were arguments to be made. He was here when he should be at Gravesend. He was dressed for a ball, not a dusty office in west London. She’d been stacking up reasons they could not be together to justify their separation for days. But her mind was drunk on relief and her senses were thoroughly distracted by Killian’s nearness. Later, she would summon a rational argument. She was sure of it.
“Others have warned me,” he started, drawing in a deep breath, “that asking this will cost you your independence.” His hand came up, and he stroked his fingers along the edge of her jaw. “I never wish to take anything from you. I only want to fill your life with all the happiness you deserve.”
“But?” She almost let out a giddy giggle, recalling Queen Victoria’s disdain for but.
“Being my duchess won’t be a walk in the park.” He tipped his head, as if considering a difficult scientific equation. “Though there is a park at Gravesend and we can walk whenever you like.” A low masculine chuckle escaped. “Except nightly, once in the morning, and twice at tea.”
“Pardon?”
“I’ll explain later. The matter at hand is this.” His tone took on the clipped, militaristic patter he sometimes employed. “I love you. I wish to marry you. I need you as my duchess and the compass to guide my way.” Clasping one of her hands, he lowered himself onto one knee. “Will you have me?”
Yes, her heart shouted. You are his and he is yours. Swallowing hard, she stroked a hand along his shoulder, reached back for the golden wavy queue at his back, tugged the ribbon loose, and threaded his hair through her fingers. Such simple pleasures were all she’d ever wanted. But below his knee, her scuffed office floor stared up at her too. Inches away sat the desk she’d nearly broken while attempting to drag the thing upstairs herself.
Killian turned to look at the desk too. “I won’t take your work away from you. If you wish to continue investigating, we shall find a way. Together.” Reaching up, he tipped her chin, urging her to meet his gaze. “On a short acquaintance, Miss Fowler, you’ve convinced me that every tangle, certainly every night, is better with you at my side.”
“Yes.” She couldn’t disagree. She couldn’t not take this chance with him, because whatever the challenges, they would be together.
He stood and pulled her into his arms, lifting Tavia off her feet to hug her tight. Then he turned and lowered her onto the edge of the desk. His lips crashed against hers, and he stroked every inch of bare skin he could reach, grasping and tugging at her clothes, as if he couldn’t get her close enough. A breathless moment later, he lifted his head.
“My duchess detective, would it be terribly unprofessional to take you here on this desk?”
Tavia bit her lip and gripped the edge of his loose cravat, pulling the smooth white linen until it slid down his neck. “Yes,” she breathed as he smiled and reached for the hem of her skirt. “But please do.”
About the Author
Fueled by Pacific Northwest coffee and inspired by multiple viewings of every British costume drama she can get her hands on, Christy Carlyle writes sensual historical romance set in the Victorian era. She loves heroes who struggle against all odds and heroines who are ahead of their time. A former teacher with a degree in history, she finds there's nothing better than being able to combine her love of the past with a die-hard belief in happy endings.
Keep up with Christy’s upcoming releases, read exclusive excerpts, and be the first to get notification of giveaways, sign up for her newsletter here.
If you enjoyed this story, the kindest thing you can do for an author is to take the time to review his or her book on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Apple, or at Goodreads.
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COMPLETE BOOK LIST
Scandalous Wager
Wanton Wager
Reckless Wager
One Scandal
ous Kiss
One Tempting Proposal
One Dangerous Desire
Never Tempt a Rogue
Rules for a Rogue
A Study in Scoundrels
Cast in Scandal
Laura Landon
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.
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CAST IN SCANDAL
Cast in Scandal Series Book Four
Copyright © 2017 by Laura Landon
ISBN 978-1-937216-80-1
Prairie Muse Books Inc.
Chapter One
Edward Waverley, Duke of Townsend, dismounted from his carriage at the rear entrance of Buckingham Palace. It had been years since he’d received a command appearance from Her Majesty. Years since he’d had any association with the Crown. But when Her Majesty issued a summons, one didn’t refuse.
A guard dressed in royal colors stood at the ready to escort Edward inside.
The soft clicking of the guard’s boots as well as Edward’s shoes echoed a hollow sound in the empty hallway. Several torches lit the way, although there weren’t as many as were needed to light the high-ceilinged back passageways at this time of night. Even the mullioned windows along the corridor didn’t allow anything but darkness to enter.
Edward followed the guard, then slowed when they reached the familiar room where Her Highness had waited for him all those years ago when he was one of her special envoys.
The guard rapped on the door, then turned the knob and allowed Edward entrance.
She sat on a chair on a dais, her regal appearance striking awe as always.
Edward waited until Her Highness bid him come closer, then lowered his head and approached her. When he was as close as propriety allowed him to come, he bowed respectfully.
“Rise, Edward,” she said. “We have gone through too much together to stand on such formality.”
“That we have, Your Majesty.”
“Please, sit,” the queen said, pointing to a chair positioned to the side of the dais.
Edward sat, then waited for Her Majesty to speak.
“I know I promised I would never call upon your services again, Your Grace, but something has arisen, and you are the only person I can trust with this matter.”
Edward nodded respectfully. “I’m honored, Your Highness, but—”
“Please allow me to finish,” she said. “I know you would like to remain in the shadows if at all possible. I also know why.”
Edward’s brows rose.
Her Majesty smiled. “You should know how difficult it is to keep secrets from the Crown.” The queen rested her hands in her lap. “I know how important it is for you to introduce your son to Society. Gideon, isn’t it? Marquess of Sheffield? And his lovely wife, Eve, the Lady Sheffield.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“And do I need to tell you what your late wife is rumored to have done, Your Grace? Or will you simply take my word that I have been informed of her deviousness?”
Edward struggled to remain calm. He should have known Her Majesty would know everything that went on in England. At one time he’d operated with a few highly skilled informants she delighted in referring to as Her Majesty’s Scoundrels. He’d provided her with information to which no one else was privy.
“No, Your Majesty. I will take your word that you are familiar with all my secrets. Especially my darkest ones.”
The queen sat back in her chair and Edward noticed the worry lines around her eyes. An unnatural concern seemed to dominate her features.
“I am in need of your assistance.”
“Of course, Your Majesty.”
“Do you remember Jacob Winslow? He was a member of my personal guard.”
“Of course. I was sorry to hear of his passing. Everyone was. He was admired by all of us in your service.”
“Do you remember he had a son?”
Edward smiled. “Yes, young Joshua. Oh, he was an active rapscallion. What happened to him? Did he take his father’s place in the guard?”
“Actually he became more than a guard. He is one of my top advisors as well as an informant for special projects.”
“I see.” Edward was impressed and allowed his voice to show it, although he wasn’t sure why he should be surprised with the ranks to which Joshua had risen. His father was one of the queen’s favorite counsellors, and Joshua had a great teacher to pass down all the skills he’d perfected.
“Joshua has been kidnapped.”
“Kidnapped?”
“Actually, my advisors would like me to believe Joshua is dead, but I have my doubts. Those doubts were confirmed today when I received this.”
The queen held out her hand and dropped a heavy object into Edward’s outstretched palm. “What is it?”
“It’s Joshua’s ring. Actually, it’s a ring I gave his father on a special occasion. The ring was passed on to Joshua upon his father’s death.”
“Did anything come with it? A note? A ransom demand?”
“No, only the ring.”
“What can you tell me about the person who delivered it?”
“Nothing. It was found among my correspondence and no one knows how it got there.”
Edward turned the ring over in his hand. “Obviously someone does.”
“Yes,” Her Majesty agreed.
“You said Joshua was an advisor as well as an informant. What was he involved with when you received word that he’d died?”
The queen sat forward in her chair. “Joshua was looking into the death of the Earl of Lindleigh.”
“I remember the incident. It happened about a year ago.”
“Yes. Everyone believes Lady Lindleigh had something to do with her husband’s death. They’d been seen arguing earlier in the evening, then after they returned home, Lindleigh suffered an unfortunate fall from the balcony and broke his neck. Everyone believes his wife pushed him, but there’s no evidence to support that rumor.”
“Then perhaps the better question would be what was Lord Lindleigh investigating?”
“Lindleigh was looking into a matter of treason. He was gathering information to discover the identity of the man or men responsible for smuggling French brandy into England.”
“I know Your Majesty takes offense when French liquor is smuggled into England without providing the taxes due the government, but smuggling is hardly a treasonous offense.”
“But the smugglers’ method of payment is.”
Edward waited, intrigued. “Please continue, Your Highness.”
“Payment for the brandy smuggled into England is jewels. Jewels stolen from some of our most prominent members of Society. That I could overlook,” Her Majesty said with a sly grin on her round face. “But jewels have been missing from the vaults at Buckingham Palace.”
“What do you believe, Your Majesty? Do you believe Lady Lindleigh is involved in the thefts?”
Her Majesty sat rigidly straight. “What I know is that Lord Lindleigh was one of my top advisors. If his wife was responsible for her husband’s death, I don’t want her to get away with his murder. If she is innocent, I want her name cleared and those responsible brought to justice.”
“And you think I might be of assistance with this?”
“You and Lord Lindleigh were of an age. This suggests you are also of an age with Lady Lindleigh.”
Edward thought for a moment. “How did Joshua Winslow die?”
“Actually, I received word that he’d fallen into the Thames and drowned. His body was never recovered.”
“I see.”
“You will look into the matter for me?” Her Majesty asked.
“How could I refuse, Your Majesty?”
Her Majesty nodded, then waved her hand in dismissal.
Edward bowed regally, then backed away from the queen. A guard opened the door, and he tur
ned to leave. Before he exited the room, he heard the queen.
“You couldn’t have, Townsend. I wouldn’t have allowed it.”
“Yes, Your Majesty,” he answered.
Chapter Two
The Duke of Townsend, shifted his gaze to the opposite side of the Billingsworth ballroom where his eldest son, Gideon, Marquess of Sheffield, stood with his lovely wife, Eve. Gideon was impeccably dressed, and Eve was the picture of natural elegance and grace. They looked as uncomfortable as Edward felt. But one look at his second son Benjamin, whose lively wife Rachael was regaling them with some light-hearted chatter, and his daughter Winnifred and her husband, Nick Stillman, reassured him that somehow his family would take their rightful place in Society.
His children were surrounded by a growing number of Society’s elite, who were anxious to meet the elusive heir to the Townsend dynasty. Edward swallowed a hard knot of fear. They must never know that the reason his son had been absent from Society his entire life was because his stepmother, the late Duchess of Townsend, had been poisoning him to make him appear mad. From the time he’d been eight years old she’d given him a substance that caused painful seizures. As the boy grew, the seizures became more violent. By the time he’d reached his majority, he was no longer able to leave the confines of Shadowdown, a hospital where he could be treated.
If Society discovered what the Duchess of Townsend had done, his family would be ruined. The scandal surrounding them would destroy their reputation. They would become comically pathetic as the story was cast and recast into something even more vulgar and diabolical than it had in actuality been.
Edward loosened his death-like grip on the glass in his hand. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t control the anger that consumed him every time he thought of the woman he’d married after the death of his first wife. A woman he now knew had killed his first wife. All because she believed she deserved to be his duchess. Because she wanted her son to be the future Duke of Townsend instead of seeing the title go to the son he’d had with another woman. A woman he’d loved with his whole heart.
Her Majesty’s Scoundrels Page 13
