Scandal's Child

by Sherrill Bodine

  “I received your note about Sir Edmund. Thank you for warning me, caro.” She shrugged, batting her darkened eyelashes. “He was always only barely acceptable at best.”

  “Then why were you at the opera with him last night?” Jules asked coolly.

  “Caro, you know I have few acquaintances in London,” she pouted. “And now that you are married, I suppose we—”

  “You are correct, Marietta,” he lifted his eyebrow. “We ended as friends, I would like to keep that memory.”

  “You know I wish that, too.” Suddenly she lifted a hand to her eyes. “This terrible English damp. I have the most shocking headache. Would you help me to my carriage? It is just down the street.”

  Jules could not be so ungallant as to leave Marietta ill in the middle of the street so he allowed her to tuck her hand into his arm as they made their way to her carriage.

  She brightened slightly as he helped her in.

  “Caro, I will try to stay out of your way, and your wife’s, too. She is a spirited young woman, is she not?”

  “How would you know that, Marietta?” he questioned, rejecting the idea that somehow, somewhere, they might have met.

  “One knows these things,” she returned with a wave of her hand. “Ciao, caro.”

  With a slight feeling of relief Jules watched her carriage disappear into the traffic. Glancing around, he was pleased to see no one he knew. With everything else that was going wrong, all he needed was some rattle carrying this tale to his beautiful, exasperating wife.

  Kathryn had wasted hours on her toilette. She’d heard Jules come and go from their suite without making the least push to see her. Then she’d spent far too long deciding over unimportant purchases at the Pantheon Bazaar. Finally it was eleven o’clock, and, she felt reasonably sure, a civilized hour for a newly married lady to pay a call on her very own sister without raising too much speculation on the subject of her marriage.

  Unfortunately, she turned into Bond Street just in time to see the contessa strolling arm in arm, and looking very cozy, with Jules. For once, she so far forgot herself as to urge her horse forward into traffic, uncaring of the other drivers around her.

  She had worked herself into a fine snit by the time she arrived at Lady Tutwilliger’s town house. Insisting that her maid hold the reins while she informed Westley to have a footman take her carriage round to the mews was entirely uncharacteristic behavior. The scandalized maid was only too happy to escape to the kitchen.

  Willy was holding court in the dining room with a listless Mariah and a resigned, albeit attentive, Hannah Hamilton.

  “Where is Caroline?” Kat asked, stripping off her gloves and settling into the chair Westley pulled out for her.

  “Jacko came by with two of his cohorts and took her for a ride in the park. I sent along a maid, of course,” Lady Tutwilliger sniffed, favoring Kat with a piercing look. “When are we going to have that little chat you promised me?”

  Kat should have known Willy could not be fobbed off when she wanted to know something. Since the day they arrived back in London, Willy had wanted to know about Kat’s marriage. Yesterday Kat could honestly have told her godmother that she was happy, but not today, so she changed the subject.

  “Mariah dear, you look pale,” Kat said, noticing that in all truth her beautiful sister did look decidedly ill.

  “It is my tooth. It is killing me,” she murmured, cupping the offending jaw with her fingers.

  “You need a dose of laudanum,” Hannah stated matter-of-factly. “I often use it for the same problem. It will do the trick, I promise you.”

  “Then let us get some now,” Mariah cried, rising to her feet. “I cannot take more of this pain.”

  Making soothing noises Hannah shepherded a slumped-shouldered Mariah from the room.

  Flicking her godmother an apologetic smile, Kat followed them. “I’ll be back as soon as she is settled.”

  An hour later, Mariah was tucked cozily under the covers, peacefully asleep with the help of the laudanum. As promised Kat rejoined her godmother who had moved to the salon to receive visitors.

  “Mariah is sleeping now,” Kat informed her godmother before she began to roam restlessly about the room.

  “Do sit down! I promise not to quiz you. It is obvious to even the meanest intellect that you do not wish to talk. Besides, we have a more immediate problem!” Willy declared with a look of doom.

  “What is it?” Kat asked, happy to be able to deal with anyone else’s problems. She slipped down beside Willy on the couch.

  “It is your sister and Mr. Vanderworth. The wretched man is no closer to declaring himself than ever. They were to ride together today, now what do I tell him?”

  “The truth. Mariah has the toothache.” Kat shrugged, not really seeing the problem.

  “Don’t be a peagoose! A toothache indeed! The truth is totally unacceptable.” Willy’s foot tapped in rhythm with her finger upon her pursed lips. There was a decided gleam in her eyes that Kat found alarming. She had seen it before and bedlam usually followed.

  Promptly fifteen minutes later, Mr. Vanderworth presented himself for his ride with Mariah. He was as correct as ever, black Hessians gleaming and his cravat tied to perfection. How could Mariah be drawn to this stony-faced man whom Kat had never seen express any emotion besides the barest smile?

  “Mr. Vanderworth, it is delightful to see you, but I’m afraid Mariah is unable to ride with you today,” Willy sighed mournfully.

  Was there a spark of emotion in those eyes? And, yes, Kat did see a faint flush on his chiseled cheeks!

  “I hope nothing is amiss?” he inquired politely.

  Willy lifted a handkerchief to her eyes, but not before she had flashed Kat a quelling look.

  “We don’t know … yet. The physician is on his way.”

  “The physician! Is it that serious?”

  Kat nearly jumped at the force of his voice and watched in fascination as Mr. Vanderworth’s cool facade melted before her eyes.

  “There is no way…” Willy tried to continue.

  “The king’s physician must be called in!” He jumped to his feet and paced the salon. “He is the best in the land. Mariah must have the best care possible!”

  “I really don’t think the king’s physician is necessary,” Willy offered timidly.

  “Not necessary! Of course it is! I insist upon it!” He nearly shouted, his eyes wild with concern.

  “You insist, Mr. Vanderworth?” Willy asked softly with a self-satisfied smile upon her face.

  “Lady Tutwilliger, surely you have not failed to notice my regard for Lady Mariah. This is possibly not the time, but…”

  Willy stopped his eager attempts with the lift of her hand. “Tomorrow you might speak to Lord Thistlewait. Nine o’clock sharp.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” he nodded backing from the room. “Please send me a note after the doctor calls. I shall be waiting.”

  “Of course, dear boy. The instant we know!” Willy promised, gently smiling as a shaken Mr. Vanderworth took his leave.

  “Willy, you are shameless,” Kat scolded, unable to keep herself from chuckling.

  “I know. Isn’t it wonderful!” Willy beamed and was still very pleased with herself when Jacko and Caroline entered the room a few minutes later.

  “Saw Vanderworth on the front steps. Why is he calling on me tomorrow?” Jacko laughed with a knowing smile.

  “To ask for your sister’s hand, of course! Is it not exactly what dear Mariah wished for!”

  “Oh, how wonderful for her,” Caroline sighed, before giving Kat’s cheek a warm kiss. “She confided to me that she had a particular fondness for Mr. Vanderworth.”

  “Particular fondness! Sounds like something Mariah would say!” Jacko scoffed in true brotherly fash
ion. “Saw Saville at Gentleman Jackson’s, Kat. Asked him to ride in park, but he said he had business.”

  For a few minutes all Kat’s problems had disappeared, but with Jacko’s words they all came rushing back. Business indeed!

  Chapter 11

  Jules had suffered through two musicales, one ball, and three dinner parties in the last week, and the strain was beginning to show. After ruining his third neckcloth, he threw it to the floor in disgust. He could not bear another evening of Kathryn’s cool, civilized behavior; she was at all times absolutely correct and at social events she played the part of the new bride to perfection. Even when they danced she managed to gaze up at him with a certain amount of adoration. If he didn’t know better, he would have been fooled, as the ton was, declaring them a perfect match.

  His grandmother appeared pleased with the outcome of her stratagem. Lady Tutwilliger, flown with success, would further her coup by announcing Mariah’s engagement to Mr. Vanderworth at a ball on the morrow.

  But tonight would be more of the same pretense he’d been forced to endure all week. Another sad crush at Lady Sefton’s. Hardly the place to try to talk to Kathryn and unravel the mystery of her sudden change of heart. But evenings were the only times he saw her, and she made certain they were always surrounded by company. All his other attempts: at breakfast, lunch, even tea had fallen lamentably flat. She was never about. Where was she spending her time?

  That thought consumed his every waking moment. The door between their rooms remained locked. In desperation, hearing noises in her room one afternoon, he’d knocked. But it was only the maid tidying her chamber. She informed him, quite cheerily, that Madame had gone to see the Elgin marbles with her brother and his friends. Jules had been unable to resist driving by the museum at a time they might be exiting. All to no avail—he missed them entirely, then spent the remainder of the day berating himself for acting the schoolboy.

  He had stopped his search for Trigge who appeared, like the lowlife he was, to have gone to ground.

  Looking in the mirror, Jules sighed, picked up another pristine neckcloth and proceeded to do a credible job with the Waterfall; for luck he even tucked the diamond stickpin from his grandfather in its folds. He remembered he had been wearing it that evening in the gazebo with Kathryn. Jules was not usually prone to such flights of fancy, but with his wayward bride he was finding all the old rules had flown out the window.

  Lifting his brow, he gave his reflection a rueful smile. There was one thing that had not changed: his determination. It might take time—God knew how much longer he could stay away from her!—but Kathryn would once again melt in his arms as she had that night he lured her to the gazebo.

  “And that I promise!” he declared fiercely, startling his valet so much, that good man left a fingerprint on the left boot he’d been buffing to perfection.

  Kathryn stared at her reflection in the full-length glass that stood in the corner of her room. This dress of white crepe with a crimson overskirt demanded the rubies. She lifted the necklace and held it in her fingers. Dare she wear it? The last time had been the duchess’s ball when she had shamelessly lured Jules out into the gazebo, but so much had changed since then. A fresh wave of pained betrayal dimmed her eyes, but blinking rapidly, she kept the tears at bay. Kat wasn’t sure how much more of this she could endure. She’d kept herself ridiculously busy the last week. Day after day, shopping with Caroline and Mariah, indulging Jacko’s mad expeditions to anywhere—as long as they kept her away from Culter House. No doubt Willy thought she had run mad, always popping in over there, demanding they be off again. The evenings she could not avoid Jules. His presence made her pulse beat more rapidly and filled her with such conflicting emotions she didn’t know whether she was coming or going. It wasn’t fair that he should affect her so, when she knew he did not care for her.

  She sighed and clasped the necklace about her throat. Tonight she had the jitters, an odd feeling in her stomach. She’d been at Lady Sefton’s the night she’d gotten Jacko’s note … which had set her life on this course. But no doubt tonight would be totally uneventful, only another sad crush.

  If Lady Sefton’s musicale had been a success, this ball was doubly so. Kat had lost sight of Jules and the duchess immediately after they entered the ballroom. Although Jules was making a push to keep her by his side, demanding her dance card and promptly claiming all the waltzes, she had been pulled off by Caroline, who required her instant attention, then promptly deserted her when Jacko appeared.

  Jacko dancing! And seeming to enjoy it. Caroline was turning him up sweet. She noticed Mariah with Christian Vanderworth, looking positively radiant. They appeared every inch the devoted couple. But appearances could be deceiving, Kat knew, for she often caught Jules gazing at her with a certain expression on his face that made her heart skip a beat. He was pretending for the ton, because if he truly cared for her he would not have taken up with his former mistress.

  Disturbed by the feelings her thoughts evoked, Kat absently took a glass of champagne from a waiter and wandered away from the ballroom. The foyer was crammed with guests. Kat was stopped again and again by acquaintances, so it was quite some time before she made her way to the antechamber door. She knew this room was sometimes used for a rendezvous so she opened the door with some trepidation and breathed a sigh of relief on finding it empty. The quiet beckoned to her; for just a moment she would indulge herself. She sat down on the couch. As always, when Jules was nearby, her thoughts were chaotic. She’d been avoiding the problem—she needed time to think, to plan.

  The tiny room was furnished with nothing but the red velvet couch. Hardly a romantic setting. Could the memory of that night, which now seemed so long ago, have drawn her here? What if she hadn’t stumbled upon Sir Edmund and Caroline in this very room; probably she would not have gotten involved on the packet boat. Thus Sir Edmund would not have threatened them all, and Kat would not have lingered at Jules’s château. If she had not stayed, would she have fallen in love with Jules? One thought suddenly crystalized: she had always been meant to fall in love with Jules. From that first moment on the bed at the Blue Boar Inn it was fated. Now what was she to do?

  Her mind was so filled with Jules that when the antechamber door slowly opened her heart beat quickened, sure that her thoughts had called him to her. Then her heart stopped for a breathless moment. When it began to beat its fast pace had an entirely different cause.

  Sir Edmund Trigge, his mouth twisted in a smug smile, clicked the door shut behind him.

  Quickly, Kat rose to her feet. “What do you want?” she demanded, thrusting up her chin.

  “Why, to have another of our delightful conversations,” he drawled in that hated oily voice.

  “I assure you that is not my wish,” Kat declared, moving toward the door.

  He refused to step aside to allow her to pass so Kat was forced to retreat. He followed her, that terrible smile growing more threatening.

  “I’ve been watching you, you know, Countess.”

  “Oh, really? How surprising. I thought you de trop at most ton gatherings, Sir Edmund,” she retorted with more bravado than she truly felt.

  Scarlet stained his cheeks and the smile turned into a sneer. “You and Saville think you’ve been so damn clever, don’t you! Well, I’m here to tell you I’m not finished with you yet! You might have vanquished Marietta, but not me, my pet.” He chuckled, flicking her cheek with his finger.

  His touch repulsed her, but his words brought her up short. Marietta vanquished? How? When?

  Throwing back her head, she met his glare bravely. “Really, Sir Edmund, such an ineffectual ploy to throw the contessa at Jules’s head.” Kat shrugged dismissingly. “She and Jules were a thing of the past, long before we met.”

  “So it appears, but it was worth a try.” He laughed harshly. “Jules thinks he can ruin me over your so-unfortunate
encounter with footpads in Champagne. But I can hurt him even more. See how easily I got to you, Countess,” he boasted with quivering excitement, moving so close she caught the scent of sour wine on his breath.

  Sick to her stomach, Kat covered her mouth with her hand, moving back, no longer able to maintain her bravado.

  “Yes, Kat, be frightened. I owe both you and Jules. And I’m a man who always gets even.” He reached out to touch her again just as Kat opened her mouth to scream.

  “Don’t touch her! This is between you and me! Let us settle the score here and now, Trigge!” Jules stood in the doorway looking for all the world like an avenging dark angel.

  Sir Edmund whirled in surprise to confront him. In that instant Kat sank slowly onto the bench. She wasn’t so much weak with relief that Jules had come to her rescue, but prostrate with the realization that she had just spent the most miserable week of her life for nothing. Nothing! Jules had not renewed his association with the contessa. Whatever she had seen, she had misunderstood. How could she regain the comfortable relationship they had just begun to enjoy?

  Edmund’s drawl broke into her thoughts. “What do you propose we do, Saville? Duel here and now at Lady Sefton’s? A first, no doubt,” Sir Edmund preened in satisfaction. “Not sure even your vaunted relatives could cover up such a scandal. Particularly when your wife and I have been in this room alone for quite some time.”

  “Not a duel,” Jules drawled, striding forward. “This!” he bit out, landing a punch on Sir Edmund’s slack jaw. Trigge crumpled to the floor at Kat’s feet, and she hastily removed her skirt from his vicinity.

  With a grunt, Edmund struggled to one knee before launching himself at Jules. Both men fell to the floor, rolling over and over, fists flailing, until they came to a halt against the curtained wall. Kat looked around for some weapon, anything to help, but could find nothing, and was reduced to hated helplessness.