His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6

by Sophie Barnes

  Having risen as well, Richard gestured toward the seat that Mary had just vacated. “It would be an honor,” he said. Winking at Mary, he mouthed the words, “Good luck,” before offering Lady Foxworth his complete attention.

  Starting toward the French doors that would take her back inside Thorncliff, Mary cast a glance in Rotridge’s direction. He was looking straight at her with one raised eyebrow and a supremely annoying smirk upon his face. Straightening her spine, she inclined her head in greeting before continuing past him, praying that she would be the one to get the better of him this evening and not the other way around.

  Returning to her bedchamber, she was met by Amy. “Are you ready, my lady?” she asked.

  A nervous sound erupted from Mary’s chest. “Mr. Heartly just asked me the exact same thing.”

  “And what did you tell him?” Retrieving a cloak from the wardrobe, Amy handed it to Mary.

  “That I will never be ready for something like this.”

  “Consider it an adventure.”

  Mary snorted. “One that could ruin my reputation forever if it happens to go wrong.”

  Amy gave her a faint smile. “That risk has always existed, my lady—ever since you began performing as Miss Cavalani.”

  “I know,” Mary agreed. “Shall we proceed with the performance then and let the cards fall where they may?”

  Tying her cloak in place and raising the hood, Mary cracked open the door and peeked out into the hallway. “All clear,” she whispered to Amy as they headed out together.

  Reaching the stairwell that she’d used so often for her rendezvous with Richard, Mary descended toward the antechamber while Amy followed behind. “This way,” she said as she opened the door and snuck out into the dark garden beyond. A soft breeze tugged at the hem of her gown as she and Amy made their way along the graveled path toward the terrace. From the lake came the occasional sound of frogs croaking, though it was soon drowned out by the chatter of voices rising from the many guests who’d gathered to watch Lucia Cavalani perform.

  Certain that no one could see them arrive, they ascended the steps leading up onto the terrace, arriving directly behind the stage’s thick velvet curtains. A backdrop with only a narrow opening on one side boxed them in, shielding them from anyone who might happen to approach from the garden. “You look wonderful,” Mary told Amy as she took in her appearance. “Thank you for helping me with this.”

  “After all that you have done for me, my lady, it is the least that I can do.”

  With that said, Amy parted the curtains just enough for her to step up onto the stage while Mary stood back, hidden from sight. A hush immediately descended over the terrace as everyone noted the arrival of the finest opera singer in England. Mary’s heart beat rapidly in her chest, slowing only in response to the first fluid notes of music played by violins. Waiting for her cue, Mary sent up a silent prayer before starting to sing, her voice like a ribbon of silk floating through the night sky. There were five songs in total and as she rounded off the last one with a perfect vibrato, she felt the tension possessing her for the past two days begin to subside.

  A brief second of silence passed after the final note had been sung, and then, a cacophony of applause. It was loud and vibrant—deafening even. But rather than stay and listen to it as she usually did, Mary left that task to Amy while she herself disappeared back into the garden.

  “Magnificent,” Lady Foxworth said over the loud clapping that filled the air after Lucia Cavalani’s performance.

  Richard nodded as he watched the famous singer curtsy while Lady Duncaster made her way toward the stage with a lovely bouquet of roses. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked toward the French doors leading back inside the house, and then toward the spot where Rotridge was now standing. Catching Richard’s eyes, the earl narrowed his gaze before inclining his head in silent greeting. A menacing smile played upon his lips, tugging at the corners of his mouth until, with a jerk of his head, he turned away, pushing past the people who’d been sitting next to him. “Stop,” he said, his voice slicing through the fading applause and demanding immediate silence.

  Lady Duncaster halted and turned toward him, her eyebrows arched in question. “Yes?”

  With heels clicking sharply against the stone-slab tiles, Rotridge made his way toward her. “While I was away in London, I made a wager in White’s betting book.” His eyes surveyed the guests as he progressed toward the spot where Lady Duncaster was standing. “It is a wager that can only be settled by Miss Cavalani herself.”

  “How intriguing,” Lady Duncaster said as she looked toward the woman still standing on the stage. Her face was painted white, her lips a bright shade of red, and her eyes outlined with black kohl. The gown she wore was Elizabethan in style. On her head she wore an elaborate wig embellished with crystal beads.

  “I could not agree more,” Rotridge said, “for you see, it is a matter of Miss Cavalani’s actual identity.”

  A murmur rose from the crowd. Richard squared his shoulders in expectation of what would undoubtedly happen next.

  “Do you not find it strange that the most celebrated opera singer in England has never been seen by anyone, except for on the stage? One would think that she would have acquired a protector by now—that many young gentlemen would have made any number of desirable offers in order to claim her.”

  Clenching his fists, Richard forced himself not to react to Rotridge’s statement. As far as everyone knew, he wasn’t speaking of Mary, but of Lucia. And yet, Richard felt the insult like a punch to the stomach when Rotridge looked in his direction and said, “Welcome back into our midst, Mr. Heartly.”

  Tightening his jaw, Richard muttered his thanks for the sake of those present. Had he been alone with Rotridge however . . . A staying hand touched his arm. “Calm yourself,” Lady Foxworth murmured. “You must not allow him to rile you.”

  “As for Miss Cavalani,” Rotridge continued in a measured tone that seemed to capture everyone’s attention with the promise of revealing a marvelous secret, “I would like to propose that she is not of Italian descent or that she is even a foreigner, for that matter. Indeed, I propose that she is not even of lowly birth, but a peeress in disguise.”

  The gasp that rose from the crowd was immediate. “Outrageous,” some said. “Impossible,” others said.

  Rotridge held up his hand to silence them. “There is only one way for us to discover the truth, and that is to ask for Miss Cavalani to remove her wig and face paint.”

  “Have you no shame?” Lady Duncaster asked.

  Rotridge inclined his head. “Unfortunately I have a great deal of money at stake, for you see, I have even gone so far as to name the lady whom I suspect Miss Cavalani to be.” Responding to the horrified look on Lucia’s face, he allowed himself a victorious grin. “Let us dispense with the pretense. It is time for you to reveal yourself, Lady Mary.”

  Murmurs snaked their way through the onlookers. Lucia took a step back and shook her head. She looked to Lady Duncaster with wide imploring eyes.

  “This is preposterous,” Richard said, voicing his opinion.

  “Why?” Rotridge asked. “Because she happens to be your fiancée? Congratulations, by the way. I have no doubt that the two of you will be very happy together. After all, you do share a fondness for masquerades, do you not?”

  “I ought to challenge you for your insolence,” Richard said.

  “You may do so after I have proven to everyone that the woman standing on that stage is none other than Mary Bourneville.”

  “You are making a grave mistake, Rotridge. One that is presently damaging both Miss Cavalani’s reputation and Lady Mary’s as well.”

  “Then perhaps you would care to explain Lady Mary’s absence this evening?”

  All eyes turned on Richard. He became acutely aware of his family’s pained expressions but chose to ignore them. Somehow, he had to remain focused. He could not allow for anyone to suspect that Rotridge might be right. “She wen
t to collect a shawl for her aunt.”

  “An hour ago?” Rotridge’s voice was mocking now. “Are you really so naïve that you would think I might believe that?”

  “Stop it!” The order was spoken by Lucia. All eyes turned toward the stage. “His lordship is correct in one regard. I am not a foreigner. Cavalani is a stage name.”

  “I knew it,” Rotridge yelled.

  “But I am not of noble birth,” Lucia added, “and I am not Mary Bourneville.”

  Calculated fury seemed to seep from Rotridge’s eyes. “Yes you are!” Striding past Lady Duncaster, he climbed onto the stage, his superior height dwarfing Lucia’s more delicate frame. Leaning away from him she looked as though she wished to flee, but her large skirt made movement difficult and before she could go anywhere, Rotridge’s fingers were in her hair, dislodging the wig until a mass of golden locks emerged.

  A collective gasp filled the air as everyone stared at the woman before them.

  “Are you quite finished?” Lady Duncaster asked as she too stepped onto the stage and snatched the wig away from Rotridge’s hand.

  “I . . .” He stared at Lucia, then at the wig, and then at Lucia once more. “I do not understand. You were supposed to be—”

  “Me?” Mary asked. Having returned to the terrace only moments earlier, she was standing between Richard and her aunt. “I daresay that is absurd.”

  “But I overheard your conversation with Mr. Heartly,” Rotridge said, his expression a muddled mixture of incomprehension and rapid thinking, “you clearly said that—”

  “How much money did you risk on this calculated attempt to ruin Lady Mary’s reputation?” Richard asked, deliberately cutting Rotridge off.

  Swiveling his head in Richard’s direction, Rotridge narrowed his eyes before stepping down from the stage and striding toward him. “You did this.”

  “I cannot imagine what you might be referring to,” Richard spoke calmly, “but in my opinion, only the worst sort of scoundrel would stoop so low as to tarnish a lady’s standing out of spite. You were determined to win her hand in marriage for one reason alone—so you can acquire the land that she will eventually inherit from her grandfather. But she refused. Not even your attempts at blackmail could sway her.”

  A low murmur snaked its way around the terrace, the blunt expression on everyone’s faces conveying their disapproval.

  “Is this true, Lord Rotridge?” Lady Duncaster asked.

  “That land was supposed to be mine,” Rotridge snapped, one second before lunging toward Richard.

  Ducking, Richard managed to avoid the fist that was meant for his face, countering with a blow of his own instead. It landed solidly in Rotridge’s stomach, producing a pitiful yelp from the earl as he doubled over in pain.

  “Enough,” Lady Duncaster said, her sharp tone breaking the men apart. Piercing blue eyes settled on Rotridge who was gasping for breath a small distance from where Richard was standing. “Your behavior this evening has been quite uncivil. Clearly you are mistaken in your hypothesis regarding Miss Cavalini’s identity, but rather than take it like a man, you choose to attack one of my guests instead. Now, if I may offer a piece of advice to you, apologize to Miss Cavalani and to Lady Mary right this second before you make matters worse.”

  Stiffly, Rotridge inclined his head. “Forgive me.” His eyes sought Mary and then Amy.

  “Good,” Lady Duncaster said. “You may leave now.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Rotridge asked sounding confused.

  “If you think that I will allow you to remain here after what you have just done, then you are mistaken. I expect to find you gone within the hour. The footmen will escort you to your room and help you pack.”

  Flattening his mouth into a thin line, Rotridge paused for a second before turning away and marching back inside the house without another word while two footmen followed in his wake.

  “Do you think he will try to bother us again?” Mary asked Richard as she watched Lady Duncaster hand over the large bouquet of roses to Amy and congratulate her on her performance.

  “No. In fact, I wager he will have quit Thorncliff by the time we return inside. I doubt he will want to face either one of us after this, or anyone else for that matter.”

  Deciding that he was probably right, Mary allowed herself a sigh of relief. “I hope so.” A cool summer breeze whispered across her skin. “Thank you once again for discovering Rotridge’s motivation. I had no idea that Grandpapa intends to leave so much land to me. He never said a word about it.”

  “Perhaps because he knew that it would attract men like Rotridge?”

  “I suspect you might be right.” Turning slightly, Mary smiled up at Richard. “Now that this is behind us, we can hopefully start focusing on all of the wedding preparations. Did I mention that I have written to my brother informing him of the good news?”

  One side of Richard’s mouth edged upward. “No. You did not.”

  “Oh. I am sorry. It must have slipped my mind.” Around them, the other guests began moving off in different directions while Lady Foxworth went to speak with Lady Duncaster.

  “I cannot say that I am surprised. You have had a lot to think about lately.” Catching Mary by the arm, Richard guided her away from the seats and toward a darker corner of the terrace where a bench stood waiting.

  “I am so relieved that it is all over now.” Lowering herself onto the bench, she waited for Richard to join her, a little bothered by the distance they were forced to keep for the sake of propriety. Discreetly, she placed her hand upon the seat.

  “As am I.” His hand found hers, filling her with warmth and the assurance of his deep affection. “Do you think your brother will join us once he hears that we are to be wed?”

  “I hope so. Family has always meant a great deal to me and with Mama and Papa so far away I would appreciate his support. Besides, I think it would be wonderful for the two of you to become acquainted with each other, especially since I think he would benefit greatly from your friendship and guidance.”

  “You are hoping that I might have a positive influence on him?” When she nodded, he said, “I will tell you this—your brother will never take advantage of you again once we are married.”

  “But you will help him somehow? Please, Richard. I cannot bear the thought of him living in poverty when I have been blessed with so much.”

  “I understand, and as I have told you before, I will do what I can, but he has to be willing to do his part as well. If he earns his fortune rather than relying on gratuity, then perhaps he will take better care of it.”

  Knowing how sound Richard’s reasoning was, Mary turned over her hand beneath his so that they were palm against palm and curled her fingers around his. “Thank you.” They sat in silence for a short while enjoying the quiet that was settling around them as the few remaining people on the terrace dispersed. “I think I will have to abandon my singing,” she finally said.

  “Why? I would never demand that you do so, Mary. You know this.”

  “Yes. I do. But I fear that while we may have averted disaster this evening, it will eventually find us again, and what then?”

  “Then we will get through those troubling times as well. Together.” He stretched out his legs and leaned back a little.

  “You are the best man in the world. Do you know that?” He seemed to wince, but when he said nothing in response she chose to interpret his silence as proof of his modesty. “I love performing at the opera, but I cannot keep taking the risk. Especially not when there is no longer a reason for me to do so.”

  “Because your husband will be able to supply your brother with the funds he needs?”

  She bit her lip. “I do not mean to sound mercenary, but yes.”

  His eyes left her and he looked up at the night sky instead. “Just as long as you promise always to sing for me.”

  “And for our children,” she blurted without thinking.

  His face jerked toward her, surprise bouncing
in his eyes as if it were a living thing that wished to be set free. “Children?” His voice was but a slight whisper.

  “Forgive me. I should not have—”

  “Oh no, Mary.” He dropped his gaze to her lips. “You will not retreat from me now. Not when you have just broached the one subject that I look forward to discussing with you in far greater detail.”

  Heat rose to Mary’s cheeks while a funny unbalanced sensation took hold of her stomach. Was it possible for her to burst into flames right there on the terrace? An unsteady inhale of breath did little to calm her racing heart. “We should not discuss such things here.”

  “Would you rather discuss them somewhere else?” His thumb traced the edge of her hand.

  Feeling dizzy, Mary shook her head. Somehow, in the space of a second, Richard had managed to make it seem as though her gown was shrinking. Her chest rose and fell against the now unbearably restrictive fabric. “I think it might be best if I were to retire for the evening.” Trembling, she slid off the bench and rose to her feet.

  He rose as well. “I have offended you.”

  “No,” she whispered. She glanced toward the doors leading back inside the house. “You are tempting me, Richard, and if you do not stop doing so, I . . .” Her courage failed her. She was a well-bred lady after all. She could not speak of such things. So instead she told him decisively, “We will be married soon enough.”

  He didn’t look convinced but he inclined his head, submitting to her wishes. “Of course we will.”

  They started back toward the house, but there was something in his tone that Mary found unsettling. “What is it?” she asked.

  His brow creased in a contemplative frown. “You do not trust me.”

  “Of course I do!” How could he even say such a thing after all the faith she’d placed in him since their very first encounter.

  “I was not speaking of ruining you just now, Mary, but that is how you chose to interpret what I said.”

  Baffled, she drew to a halt. “How else was I meant to interpret it? The implication seemed very clear to me.”