Improper Match: Scandalous Encounters

by Reed, Kristabel

  With her back stiff she stared over Annabelle’s shoulder, glaring at the faded wallpaper by the fireplace. She knew Annabelle’s arguments, and while she truly believed in her reasons for leaving, she still could not meet her friend’s eyes.

  “There’s nothing to question. You lived all those weeks with me.” Selina leveled a glare on her cousin, though she felt her resolve weaken. She missed Edmund terribly. Missed his arms around her. His support.

  But the guilt of who she now was could not be forgotten. She’d become a liability to him. She could no longer hold onto him.

  “You saw the scandal — you saw it!” Selina swallowed hard and forced herself to continue all the arguments she’d had with herself these last days. “Saw as it surrounded us and Edmund. I turned a blind eye to it, to the harm it did to his reputation, because I believed Father innocent.”

  She paused and fought with her emotions, blinking away tears that did no good and with guilt — over leaving, over wanting to stay. Over the damage she’d already done to Edmund.

  “I believed we could all leave together.” Her voice broke but she pushed on, determined to speak her reasons. Only then, mayhap, would she accept them as well. “None of that happened. and I cannot allow all that Edmund is, all that he has, to be ruined — destroyed — by something he did not do. To be laid waste simply because I would be his wife.”

  Selina angrily swiped at a tear that broke free of her control. She’d done little but cry and second-guess all her decisions, from accepting Edmund’s proposal to leaving him without a word.

  “Is that not his choice?” Annabelle demanded, but her voice was soft now. “And did he not make it when he stood by you… and Father?”

  “It’s not the same,” she snapped. “I accepted it as his choice when we became engaged and I knew I was not of his station. But this?” Selina shook her head, tears once more under tight control. “Annabelle, you must see.”

  Annabelle gave a very unladylike snort. “All I see is a man devoted to you and you walking away.”

  “I don’t want to,” she confessed. Selina breathed deeply and dropped her gaze to the tea set. “But I also don’t want to be the reason Edmund lives with this shame.”

  With a sigh, Annabelle acquiesced, for the moment, at least — Selina knew better than to truly believe this argument was finished.

  It was for the best. For the best for Edmund. She knew that, but needed to remember it — tell herself so every waking moment. With her as his wife, he’d be looked down upon. They’d receive no invitations, have no visitors to the house. Society would kill him, even if he continued to breathe on.

  He’d suffer. Octavia would suffer as well. His estate and businesses would also suffer.

  Just as she told Edmund in the note, her leaving was for the best.

  She believed it. But oh, it hurt. Tore through her with vicious claws, a gaping wound that never healed.

  The knock on the door startled her. She waited, but it took Selina a moment to remember there was no Thompson, there was no butler. Annabelle started to stand, but Selina waved her down. Standing herself, Selina smoothed down her gown, took one deep breath, and locked all her emotions behind a strong wall.

  Crossing the small foyer, she opened the door herself.

  “Miss Lyndell?” the man asked.

  “Yes,” she said and realized how vulnerable she was, a woman answering the door to strangers. My how her life had changed.

  “I’m Mr. Bromley.”

  “Ah, yes, do come in.” She stepped back and took his hat and coat. Laying them on the foyer chair, she motioned for him to enter the parlor, where Annabelle still sat.

  George Bromley was tall and well dressed, yet unassuming. He had light hair and light eyes that could’ve been green or blue or gray, and Selina thought he blended in. If she met him on the street, she’d be hard pressed to remember his features, his description.

  But he sat opposite her and Annabelle, straight-backed, focused and steady.

  “I’m told you’re very skilled at finding truths,” she began and settled beside her friend.

  “I’ve done my best for those who employ me,” Bromley acknowledged with a small nod. “But I do warn you: The truth is a slippery creature.”

  She nodded. “Yes. I understand. However, I still care to retain your services.”

  Selina paused and took a deep breath. It seemed all she did these days was take deep breaths. They never steadied her, never did more than remind her of the shackles tightening her chest.

  “It’s about my father.”

  Bromley held up his hand. “No need to explain,” he said with a sad smile. “I’ve seen the broadsheets. I was certain as to what this pertained when I heard your name.”

  Selina motioned to the tea tray, but Bromley shook his head. She waited, her fingers pressing into her thighs and running up and down her skirts.

  “I need all the details you can give me of that night,” Bromley began. “What you and your father spoke of, what had happened in the office that week. And of any who might wish his partner dead.”

  “I believe Mrs. Ashworth knows more than she says,” Selina began immediately. She had far too long to think of this. “She blatantly lied on the witness stand. So, too, did Mr. Denley.” Selina breathed deeply but continued immediately. “She painted my father as a cruel monster who belittled and demeaned Mr. Ashworth — none of which was true.”

  “And the boy?” Bromley asked, calm in her anger. “I heard there was also a boy who testified.”

  “I don’t know why Young Peter said such things,” she admitted, anger flushing her skin. “My father gave him a job and paid him well. Yet he spoke lies.”

  “And do you know the details of the business contract between Mr. Lyndell and Mr. Ashworth?” Bromley asked.

  He took no notes, but Selina had the impression he retained every word she said. He looked between her and Annabelle, who remained silent, and didn’t look as if he missed a thing.

  “Their contract?” She paused and tried to recall the details. It’d been signed when she was very, very young, before her mother died. “Mr. Ashworth was given twenty percent. My father didn’t wish to travel any longer, and he trusted Mr. Ashworth’s judgment on goods.”

  “Yes, yes,” Bromley said with a slight flick of his wrist. “What of now? Who has control of Lyndell Imports?”

  That brought Selina up short. “I would’ve had control over it upon my father’s death.” Her voice hardened, and her fingers dug painfully into her legs. “But because he was found guilty” — she spat the word — ”over killing Mr. Ashworth, control passes to Mrs. Ashworth. However, I’m still entitled to eighty percent of the profits prior to Mr. Ashworth’s death.”

  She tilted her chin and added calmly, “Which I have taken.”

  “Mrs. Ashworth must not have been happy to learn of that,” Bromley said with a slight twist to his lips. It may have been a smile; Selina couldn’t really tell.

  Her own grin was hard, grim. “I do not know. I haven’t seen her since the trial. Nor did I care to.”

  Bromley nodded. “This is enough for me to start.”

  Selina and Annabelle stood as Mr. Bromley did. He bowed and turned for the door.

  “Shall I return here to report any findings?” he asked as he took his coat and gloves from the foyer chair.

  “No.” Selina shook her head and took the envelope she prepared when Annabelle began her search for an investigator. “I’ll be staying at this address.” Selina swallowed hard. “Should any ask as to my whereabouts, you are not to share that information. Your retainer is also included therein.”

  Bromley raised an eyebrow but nodded. He placed the envelope in his inside pocket, bowed again, and left. The wind whipped through the foyer, but Selina barely felt it.

  “What if Mr. Bromley is successful?” Annabelle asked from beside her. “What of Lord Granville then?”

  A shudder ran through Selina, but she didn’t know if it wa
s in hope or anguish. “I can’t consider that,” she whispered. “We don’t know how long it’ll take Mr. Bromley; we don’t know if it’s even possible for him to be successful.”

  She turned and looked at her friend. “Time is not kind,” she said quietly. “Edmund will soon find a suitable wife… and forget.” She tore her gaze from Annabelle’s knowing one and walked back to her desk. “As men must do.”

  Selina saw Annabelle’s disbelieving expression. Clearly she didn’t believe Edmund was one of those men. Clearly she thought Edmund would never forget her.

  Sitting back at her desk, she stared blindly at her letters. She had to believe Edmund would forget her. Eventually. She had to believe it.

  Otherwise it’d break her.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “They’re two women alone!” Edmund roared, glaring from one investigator to the other. “How have you not found them yet?! She’s a lady, not a charwoman!”

  The investigators stood in his foyer, their heads down, fidgeting slightly. They nodded in agreement, but Edmund doubted very much they understood.

  “Go to the docks. Talk to the men who work for her father,” he ordered, his hands clenched into fists. “Talk to her solicitor, John Ramsby.” He took a step closer just to ensure the men understood him. “And don’t return here until you’ve found them.”

  “Yes sir,” one said. “We’re trying. Miss Lyndell has not made it an easy task.”

  “I don’t want to hear excuses! Go!”

  The men hastily bowed and scurried out. Edmund growled and slammed the door behind them.

  Six days. Six days since Selina left, sneaking out of her townhouse with barely five words to him. She took Annabelle and left in the middle of the night.

  Left him.

  That’s what he couldn’t reconcile. That she left him. That she hadn’t trusted him enough.

  “Menacing the help again?” Hamilton asked.

  “Fools,” Edmund growled and paced down the hall to his study. “They claim to track people constantly. How can Selina continue to evade them?”

  Edmund poured himself a drink but didn’t taste it. The whisky burned down his throat but otherwise tasted like ash. Enraged, he threw the crystal at the fireplace. It smashed against the stone but did little to ease the anger and terror for her.

  She was alone out there — somewhere. Alone with Annabelle, which did little to ease his mind. Why had she left? Better for whom?

  “Selina has more than half a brain,” Hamilton pointed out and calmly poured another tumbler of the Scottish whisky.

  When Hamilton had taken to calling her Selina, Edmund didn’t remember. He didn’t care. His friend’s familiarity didn’t grate on him as Edmund once thought.

  “I’m worried, Hamilton,” he whispered.

  The confession ripped from him, reopening the wounds that hadn’t closed properly. It ached, this failure, and twisted in his soul.

  “It’s just her and Annabelle,” he said, staring blindly out at the cold, rainy day. “Two women don’t often fare well alone in England.”

  “As you said yourself, I know because the entire household and every one of your neighbors heard it, Selina is no charwoman.” Hamilton stood beside him; he didn’t lean negligently on the wall as was his wont, but stood straight and ready.

  He was ready for whatever Edmund needed him for, and Edmund had no idea how he’d ever repay his friend for that.

  “She’s a lady and will comport herself as such. Which should keep away the undesirables.” Hamilton clasped a hand on Edmund’s shoulder. “She’ll be fine, Edmund.”

  He looked at Hamilton sharply. There was a hint of doubt in those words. A crack in his voice. Edmund’s stomach twisted, and the icy lead ball that weighed down his stomach these last six days suddenly felt heavier. More ominous.

  “Not only did that not sound convincing,” Edmund stated, his own voice rough, “it sounded of genuine worry.”

  Hamilton cleared his throat and moved stiffly to the desk; he placed his drink atop it before turning to face him again.

  “I am not unsympathetic to a man who has lost his woman,” Hamilton said, the words low and honest. “Who does not physically have her with him.”

  Edmund blinked at this revelation. “I’m not unfamiliar with your dreams,” he said quietly. “Selina is no figment from a tale you likely heard as a boy.”

  “I know that!” Hamilton shot back.

  Edmund sighed and scrubbed his hands over his unshaven face. He nodded, a slight motion of apology. “I’m grateful for your help in this. And I know that while you haven’t experienced this in life,” he continued cautiously, “you understand my sentiments.”

  “I’ve woken many nights with fear in my heart,” Hamilton admitted, his tone coarse. “Searching for her, calling for her.” He cleared his throat of emotion and resumed the businesslike tone Hamilton had adopted since this ordeal began. “So I completely understand the sentiment.”

  Edmund simply nodded. They’d had this discussion for years; Hamilton dreamt about losing his lover since long before Edmund and Jonathon met him in school. In all that time, there’d never once been a woman Hamilton so fully devoted himself to. Never a woman he loved so completely. If he ever loved a woman.

  He said nothing. Now was not the time, and he didn’t want to argue with Hamilton. Not when the other man had been there for him throughout everything — from Arthur’s arrest, straight through to today.

  “I know you do,” Edmund said. He turned back to face the miserable weather. It suited his mood. “I don’t understand why she didn’t give me the opportunity to take her away from this.”

  “Edmund, you mustn’t blame the girl. You mustn’t hold this against her — it’s clear why she left.”

  Edmund turned and glared at his friend. He stalked a step forward even while Hamilton leaned forward as if sharing secrets. With utter certainty he knew he was not going to like the next words out of his friend’s mouth.

  “She did this to protect you,” Hamilton said and sniffed, shaking his head. “Quite noble of her, if you were to ask me.”

  Edmund clenched his jaw. He hadn’t asked him. He hadn’t asked anyone their opinion. That hadn’t stopped the entirety of London from offering it, nonetheless. They all had something to say about his relationship with Selina, from the street gossips to his closest friend.

  “I do not need protection,” he said very slowly and very clearly, “from anyone for anything. Especially not from her. It is my position to see to her safety.”

  Hamilton shrugged and snorted in amusement. “I know you can weather this scandal. And,” he continued with a hint of the negligent man he affected, “in time it will be no more than a vicious story old women tell at the milliners. But clearly Selina does not want that for you.”

  He pushed off the desk and crossed to where Edmund still stood, his hands clenched, ready to lash out again, to relieve his anger and tension and fear. The churning, horrible fear for Selina’s safety.

  “It is our world, and it’s a small one. Apparently she’s more aware of it than you are,” Hamilton added with a significant look.

  Edmund only barely restrained himself.

  “Yes,” Octavia said as she swept into the room. “She is.”

  Edmund looked at his sister. She’d been visiting Isabella, Duchess of Strathmore, these last weeks during Arthur’s trial. Confident in an acquittal, Edmund insisted she stay with Isabella during her confinement.

  As soon as Selina disappeared, however, he’d sent word to Octavia. From the state of her clothing, and the timeliness of her arrival, it looked as if his sister left Strathmore Hall immediately upon receiving his missive.

  “I didn’t expect venom from you,” he said in lieu of a greeting.

  “It is not venom, Edmund,” she told him calmly. “And you’re well aware of that. I’ve grown to care for Selina quite deeply.” She unpinned her hat and tossed it to a chair, peeling off her gloves and outer coat as wel
l. “And I’m completely heartbroken over what happened with her father.”

  She crossed to him, but Edmund made no move to embrace her. He watched his sister, her words sharp points between them.

  “Hamilton is correct. Selina left for your own good, and for mine, too.” She sighed and reached out to take his hand, adding softly, “And I respect her quite a bit for making such a difficult decision.”

  “What are you saying?” he demanded. “You’d rather see her in exile? Alone and away from—” me. He swallowed and pushed ahead. Fear made his voice sharper than he’d ever spoken to Octavia. “Away from the man who loves her? You’d rather see her as that than miss our next invitation to whatever ball of the season is currently in favor?”

  “Of course not, Edmund,” Octavia snapped. She paused and tilted her head to look up at him. “You are my brother and I love you dearly.”

  Octavia took his hands again, and he let her. “I wanted you to have Selina and have a wonderful life with her. However,” she said quietly and squeezed his hands, “you cannot diminish the courage it took for her to walk away from you.”

  Edmund glared down at her and stood stiffly as she spoke. He didn’t take her hands or squeeze them back, too afraid of his reaction if he let go of even one thread of his control.

  “This isn’t a scandal about you spending many a night in her townhouse.” Octavia shook her head slightly. “Or any other frivolity. Her father has been convicted of murder. Like you,” she added hastily, “I believe Mr. Lyndell incapable of such an act. He was a good man, kind and amusing and not at all the sort to do something so heinous.”

  She stopped and took a breath. He watched her dark eyes steady on his. She meant every word, and it made him sick to hear them. To hear this from his beloved sister.

  “However, the rest of England did not know him as we did and they will censure you — us. Selina wants to spare you that.”

  Very carefully he removed his hands from hers. “Does that not prove her an honorable woman?” he demanded, his words cutting in the silent room. “Does that not prove her regard for us?”