One Night of Scandal (Avon Historical Romance)

by Teresa Medeiros

  Chapter 16

  My only hope was to outwit him at his own diabolical game…

  SIR EDWARD TOWNSEND SWEPT ALLEGRA UP into his arms, giving her cheek a noisy kiss. “Why, there’s my girl! It’s been so long I didn’t know if you’d even remember your old uncle Ned. Just look at you!” He deposited her back on her feet and chucked her under the chin. “When I saw you last, you were barely out of napkins and now here you are a beautiful young lady! So tell me, how many proposals have you collected from lovestruck young swains?”

  While Allegra ducked her head, blushing profusely, Lottie stole a look at Hayden. He was watching the tender exchange, his face utterly devoid of expression.

  Handing his walking stick to the footman, the dashing knight offered one arm to Allegra and the other to Miss Terwilliger. As the trio strolled toward them, their progress slowed by Miss Terwilliger’s cane, Lottie struggled to tuck her tumbled curls back into their pearl combs. There was nothing she could do about her attire. She’d worn her oldest dress to ride the hobbyhorse, a faded brown muslin more befitting a scullery maid than a marchioness.

  Harriet was vainly trying to hide herself behind Lottie. “Do you think my parents sent her? Has she come to fetch me home?”

  “Just who in the devil is she?” Hayden asked.

  “She was one of our teachers at Mrs. Lyttelton’s,” Lottie hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “But for the past few years, she’s been hiring herself out as a private governess.”

  “Oh!” he replied dryly. “That Terrible Terwilliger.”

  Stepping forward, Lottie clasped one of the old woman’s black-gloved claws between her hands, smiling through clenched teeth. “Why, Miss Terwilliger, what an astonishing surprise! Whatever brings you to our little corner of the world?”

  The woman scowled at Lottie over the top of her wire-rimmed spectacles, the mole on her chin sporting even more hairs than Lottie remembered. “Don’t be impertinent, chit. You sent for me.”

  “I did?” Lottie squeaked.

  “You did?” Hayden echoed, slanting Lottie a dark look.

  “Of course you did. I might have had to read between the lines of your letter, but you made it abundantly clear that there was a child here in desperate need of my guidance.” Miss Terwilliger cast Allegra a withering look, taking in the girl’s windblown hair and the bonnet hanging halfway down her back. “And I can see I arrived not a moment too soon.”

  Allegra sidled out of sight, joining Harriet behind Lottie.

  Miss Terwilliger drew Ned forward, fluttering her sparse lashes in a way that might have been construed as coquettish in a woman a hundred years her junior. “I would have been delayed even longer had this charming gentleman here not agreed to escort me.”

  Hayden appraised Ned with a cool gaze. “I suppose my wife sent for you as well.”

  Before Lottie could protest, Ned grinned. “Now, why would I need an excuse to visit such a dear old friend?”

  “You don’t need an excuse,” Hayden retorted. “You need an invitation.”

  Ned sighed. “You always were such a stickler for the proprieties.”

  Baffled, Lottie glanced between Sir Ned and Miss Terwilliger. “How did the two of you even come to know each other?”

  “You have only yourself to blame, my lady,” Ned replied, retrieving his walking stick from the footman. “It was at your wedding breakfast that I struck up an acquaintance with your brother George. It didn’t take long to discover we shared a number of common interests.”

  Lottie could hazard a guess as to what those interests might be—most likely riding, gaming, and seducing opera dancers.

  “I just happened to be making a call on him at Devonbrooke House when Miss Terwilliger arrived with your letter. After she shared its contents with your family, it was decided that she should journey here to offer you her services as soon as she could extricate herself from her current situation.”

  Miss Terwilliger tugged off her gloves with a snap that made Lottie flinch. “I shall expect room and board plus an advance on my wages within the week. And I’ll tolerate absolutely no flirting from my employers. I’m too old to be chased around the schoolroom by some randy nobleman trying to steal a peek beneath my skirts.” She wagged a bony finger in Hayden’s face, the hairs on her mole quivering with indignation. “I’ll expect a lock on my bedroom door, young man, and you can rest assured that I intend to use it.”

  Barely managing to conceal his shudder, Hayden sketched her a genteel bow. “You need have no fear for your virtue, madam. I shall strive to comport myself as a gentleman in your presence.”

  As he straightened, he shot Lottie a look that warned her he was making her no such promise. If he hadn’t wanted to murder her before, he most certainly did now.

  The gallant Sir Ned came charging to her rescue. “Come, my lady, and tell me how wedded bliss is suiting you.” Linking his arm through hers, he drew her toward the house. “Your husband may delight in playing the ogre for those who expect it of him, but I’m sure you’ve already discovered that a prince’s heart beats beneath that stalwart breast of his.”

  Since Lottie couldn’t very well admit that she was beginning to wonder if any heart at all beat beneath her husband’s breast, she simply cast Hayden a helpless glance over her shoulder and allowed herself to be drawn into the net of Sir Ned’s charm.

  By the time Hayden arrived at supper that night, Ned was regaling them all with stories of his and Hayden’s misspent youth at Eton. Hayden sank into his chair only to be forced to spring stiffly back to his feet when it let out an offended squeak. Muttering “infernal creatures” beneath his breath, he swept a black kitten onto the floor.

  Since it was the governess’s first night at Oakwylde, Lottie had even invited Miss Terwilliger to join them for supper. Wearied by the arduous journey, the old woman was already nodding off in her soup. As Hayden settled himself in his chair, she emitted a snore that could just as easily have been mistaken for a death rattle.

  “Don’t mind her,” Hayden said, accepting a helping of smoked herring from Meggie. “Ned’s stories often have that effect on people.”

  It was impossible for him not to notice that Ned had positioned himself at Lottie’s elbow. His wife was looking particularly delectable tonight in a high-waisted silk confection that shimmered like rosewater in the candlelight. Her curls had been swept up to bare the graceful curve of her throat. Hayden found himself wanting to press his lips there, to taste the pulse that beat just below the warm satin of her skin.

  As Ned shifted in his chair, positioning himself at the perfect angle to ogle the creamy swell of her breasts, Hayden toyed with his butter knife, his eyes narrowing. Perhaps he had spoken too hastily back in London when he had vowed never to stab his friend in the throat with a jam spoon.

  Harriet sat across from their guest, blushing and giggling and making calf’s eyes at his every word. Hayden halfway hoped the simpering creature would fall in love with him. It would serve the rascal right to have her dogging his every step like a devoted puppy. Allegra sat next to Harriet, her own gaze equally adoring. Hayden slathered butter on a steaming roll, trying not to remember a time when his daughter had looked at him that way.

  “So tell me, Ned,” he said, “what time do you hope to be off in the morning? It’s a long journey. You might want to get an early start. Perhaps you should have your valet awaken you before dawn.”

  “Hayden!” Lottie exclaimed, plainly appalled by his rudeness. “Why wait until morning? Why don’t you just hand him his hat and escort him to the door right now?”

  Hayden widened his eyes innocently. “Shall I ring for Giles?”

  Ned laughed aloud. “There’s no need to scold, my lady. I learned long ago not to take offense at your husband’s boorish behavior. Actually, Hayden, I don’t have to be back in London for a week. I thought I might linger on as your guest and take advantage of the opportunity to get to know your charming bride.” He captured Lottie’s hand and brou
ght it to his lips, a devilish glint in his eye. “I’m hoping that in time she’ll come to look upon me as something of a brother.”

  “She already has a brother,” Hayden said flatly. “And a husband.” Rising, he tossed his napkin to the table. “If you’ll excuse us, ladies, Sir Ned and I are going to retire to the library for port and cigars.”

  “But the second course hasn’t even been served,” Lottie protested.

  Ned also rose and tossed down his napkin, accepting Hayden’s unspoken challenge. “Have no fear, dear ladies. We shall return in time to join you for dessert. As Hayden can tell you, I never could resist anything sweet.”

  He winked at Harriet, causing her to titter into her napkin. Then, sketching them all a gallant bow, he followed Hayden from the dining room.

  Hayden stalked ahead of Ned, his long strides making short work of the crimson and blue runner that lined the corridor. He didn’t utter a single word, not until they were both settled in the library, a glass of port in one hand and a lit cheroot in the other.

  “You’re playing a dangerous game, my friend,” Hayden warned, leaning against the mantel.

  “On the contrary.” Ned sank into a leather chair and propped his gleaming boots on an ottoman. “As I see it, you’re the one who’s courting danger by neglecting your lovely young bride.”

  “What makes you think Lottie’s neglected?” Hayden asked, frowning.

  Ned took a puff on the cheroot. “Your rather un conventional sleeping arrangements, for one thing.”

  Hayden narrowed his eyes. “You’ve only been here for a few hours. Which maid did you seduce to obtain that juicy tidbit of gossip?”

  Ned gave him a reproachful look. “You underestimate my charms. It took no more than a smile and a wink to coax that charming little red-haired baggage into spilling all of her secrets. It seems that you and the marchioness’s marital relations, or lack thereof, have been an endless source of speculation in the servants’ quarters.”

  Hayden tossed his cheroot into the cold fireplace, having lost his taste for it. “You know better than anyone that this wasn’t a marriage sought by either one of us. Under such circumstances, it’s not unusual for a husband and wife to maintain separate chambers.”

  “Nor is it unusual for one of them to take a lover.” As Hayden gazed at him in disbelief, Ned swirled his port around the bottom of the glass. “Oh, come now, you can’t tell me you haven’t thought of it. She’s a very fetching girl. If you don’t want her, I can promise you that some other man will.” He took a nonchalant sip of the port. “She seems to be far more level-headed than Justine. You needn’t worry about scandal. I’m sure she’ll be discreet in her choice of lovers.”

  Hayden calmly set his own glass on the mantel, then jerked Ned up by his flawlessly knotted cravat and slammed him against the nearest bookshelf. Ned’s cheroot tumbled to the floor, but being the consummate gentleman, he didn’t spill a single drop of his liquor.

  Still balancing the glass in his palm, he thrust his sneering face into Hayden’s. “What are you going to do, Hayden? Call me out? So what’s it to be this time? Swords in the courtyard? Pistols at dawn? Have you chosen your second yet? If you’d like, I can check your pistol for you, then hand it over so you can shoot me with it.”

  The crimson veil of rage clouding Hayden’s vision finally cleared enough to reveal that it wasn’t fear glittering in his friend’s eyes, but triumph.

  Hayden slowly released him, fighting to control his ragged breathing. He rescued his glass from the mantel and lifted it in a mocking toast, hoping to hide the unsteadiness of his hand. “Congratulations, my friend. You succeeded in goading me into making a cake of myself over a woman. Again.”

  “What I did was goad you into admitting you were falling in love with your wife.”

  “Lest you’ve forgotten, the last time I fell in love with my wife, two people died.”

  A rare note of passion edged Ned’s voice. “But isn’t that both the beauty and the danger of love? It should be a prize worth killing for, even worth dying for if necessary.”

  “Noble sentiments indeed coming from a man whose idea of eternal love is a week spent in an opera dancer’s bed. If Phillipe were here, I’m not so sure he would agree with you.” Hayden gazed into the ruby depths of his port. “Is that why you came here? To punish me for his death?”

  “I came here because I thought it was time you stopped punishing yourself. Phillipe needed killing,” Ned said grimly, “especially after what he did to Justine. If you hadn’t shot him, some other husband would have.”

  Hayden lifted his head. “And what about Justine? Did she need killing as well?”

  Ned subsided, gazing at him through troubled gray eyes. “I honestly don’t know, old friend,” he said softly. “You’re the only one who does.”

  Hayden reached over and gently smoothed Ned’s wrinkled cravat. “I believe there are some ladies in the dining room waiting to share dessert with you. Give my wife my regrets, won’t you?” He gave Ned’s cravat a last fond pat, then turned and started for the door.

  “If you continue to deny your feelings,” Ned called after him, “then I’m afraid regrets are all you’ll have.”

  Allegra surprised them all by taking quite a fancy to Miss Terwilliger. Since they both tended to blurt out the first thing that popped into their heads, the two of them were never at a lack for conversation. With the crotchety old teacher occupying Allegra’s mornings with lessons, Lottie found herself at something of a loss.

  She wandered into the music room one morning, searching for a book she’d mislaid the night before, only to find Sir Ned gazing up at Justine’s portrait, hands in pockets.

  Joining him, she sighed. “So have you come all the way from London to worship at the shrine?”

  He shook his head. “Most certainly not. The only offering that would satisfy a woman like Justine would be a man’s heart—ripped from his chest while it was still beating.”

  Lottie glanced at him, surprised by the depth of his disdain. “Why so jaded? Didn’t you once woo her as well?”

  “Yes, I did.” He returned his gaze to the portrait, a rueful smile curving his thin lips. “With all the passion and romantic fervor of any love-smitten twenty-year-old. I sought to fill up her dance card at every ball and composed laborious odes to the dusky sheen of her hair and the lushness of her lips.”

  “It must have broken your heart when she decided to marry Hayden.”

  He lifted his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “When she scorned my suit, I sulked and cried foul as I was expected to do, but if you must know the truth, in my heart I felt nothing but an overwhelming sense of relief.”

  Lottie frowned, bewildered by his confession. “But I thought you adored her. How could you give her up so easily?”

  “I’m not sure. Perhaps even then I knew she was a tragedy waiting to happen. Besides, I’m not half the man Hayden is,” he said frankly. “I would have never been strong enough to endure her capricious moods and demands.”

  Lottie struggled to keep her voice light as she asked, “Was Hayden’s friend Phillipe equally smitten and equally relieved?”

  A scowl clouded Ned’s sharp features. “Phillipe was no friend to Hayden. I could have told him that, but he wouldn’t have believed me. With that sunny temperament of his, Hayden was always determined to believe the best of everyone.”

  Lottie bit back a smile, bemused to hear her husband’s temperament described as sunny. “He always seemed determined to believe the worst of me. The night we met, he thought I was a spy for one of the scandal sheets.”

  Ned snorted. “If he truly believed that, he probably would have tossed you off the nearest cliff.”

  “If Hayden believed Phillipe to be his friend, why did Phillipe betray him?”

  “Phillipe was the second son of a viscount who had gambled away most of the family wealth, while Hayden was the cherished only son of a marquess, and heir to a generous fortune. Phillipe coveted everyth
ing Hayden touched, most especially Justine. He never forgave Hayden for winning both her heart and her hand.”

  “Hayden told me that he and Justine quarreled quite violently while they were still in London just before…before Phillipe. Do you know why?”

  Ned sighed. “Justine desperately wanted to give him another child—an heir, but she’d suffered so after Allegra’s birth that Hayden feared the strain of childbirth might destroy what was left of her mind.”

  “But how did he prevent…?How did they…?” Lottie faltered, hesitant to reveal her own ignorance.

  “It was quite simple, my lady,” Ned said gently. “After Allegra was born, Hayden never returned to his wife’s bed.”

  Lottie could only gaze at him, stunned by the revelation. She had believed she had nothing to offer her husband that could compare to the passion he had shared with Justine. Yet he had denied himself the woman’s bed for over six years.

  Ned continued. “Aside from being insane, Justine could be insanely jealous. She became obsessed with the notion that Hayden was seeking his pleasures in other women’s beds.”

  “Was he?” Lottie met Ned’s gaze boldly, hoping to conceal the cost of the question.

  Ned shook his head. “Most other men, myself included, would have kept a mistress to relieve their baser needs. But not Hayden. He couldn’t bear to do that to her. Or to them.”

  Lottie gazed up into Justine’s mocking violet eyes. “Because he loved her.”

  When Ned spoke again, he seemed to be choosing his words with great care. “Hayden was thrust into the position of caretaker at a very young age. I often felt that his love for Justine was more the love of a parent for a child than that of a man for a woman. He knew in his heart that they could never truly be equals.” Dismissing the portrait, Ned turned to appraise her, the challenge in his gaze unmistakable. “I always felt he needed a woman who would be his match, both in the bedchamber and out of it.”