Scandal's Daughter

by Emma V. Leech

  ***

  Georgiana could see little of the outside of the vast building that was the seat of the Duke of Ware. It appeared to be a sprawling Tudor mansion and looked very ancient and rather terrifying as the moon slid behind a cloud and plunged them into darkness. She hoped it was less frightening inside, but when she set foot over the threshold, she found it cold and stark and extremely unwelcoming. There was an uncomfortable air about the place and she could well believe Beau's claims that dark deeds had been enacted under this roof. There had been no staff to greet them, save the scandalised looking house keeper who had peered around the door, taken one look at her and Beau and slammed the door again, something which had made Beau laugh.

  Though fanciful, she imagined there to be malevolence forged into the very fabric of the walls. It made her shiver as rows of dark-eyed ancestors glared down at her. She pulled her white silk cloak closer around her and shivered. The costume she wore suddenly felt stupid and frivolous and certainly not warm enough to withstand the chill that seemed to be creeping into her bones.

  "Lovely, isn’t it?" Beau chuckled, his voice echoing across the cavernous space as he made an expansive gesture around him. "Home sweet home," he said, his tone clearly mocking. "And all my kith and kin here to welcome us, lovely Eve." He stared up at the gilt framed paintings, his blue eyes almost feverish with loathing. "Half of them were mad, the other half murdering bastards. We come from a long line of wicked lunatics, so you see, I didn't turn out so very badly. I've not actually killed anyone yet." He paused, his eyes taking on a darker look that made her skin prickle. "Not intentionally anyway," he murmured.

  He led her up the stairs to a large bedroom where she hesitated outside the open door.

  "Don't fret, love," he said, and she was relieved to see the glitter had fallen away from his eyes and he was in control of himself again. "I'll not lay a hand on you before we're married. Go on, you'll find a change of clothes in there. I think I guessed right," he added with a smirk.

  She walked in and then gasped, struck by a painting of a beautiful blond woman. She was a more fragile, feminine version of the blue eyed man beside her, but the likeness was marked and unmistakable.

  "Your mother?" she asked, unsurprised when he nodded. "She was very lovely."

  He shrugged, frowning, but she noticed he didn't look up at the painting, but turned away from it. "If the painting is anything to go on, certainly. I wouldn't know." She looked back at him, waiting for an explanation. "She died having me," he said, and then walked to the door. "Don't dawdle, Eve, we need to make haste." Pausing, he grasped the handle before he fully closed the door. "And don't think to take too long, for I'm not beyond carrying you out in your chemise if I have to."

  The door closed and she was left alone. She ran to the windows but the countryside was dark and expansive and there was no obvious escape route. Besides the grand house had appeared to be miles from the village and she had lost any sense of which direction it was in.

  Changing out of this ridiculous outfit had to be her priority and with relief she saw that the items Beau had provided were perfectly respectable. A pretty white carriage dress with a small green motif, and admittedly more décolletage showing than she was comfortable with in the circumstances were hastily pulled on. It was awkward without an abigail to help her with the fastenings but she would have rather cut her tongue out than ask him for help.

  She felt a little less furious over the low cut gown when she found the matching green silk spencer, trimmed with dark green satin and a cashmere shawl. The spencer was hastily buttoned to her neck and she pulled the shawl about her shoulders with relief. It had been a warm evening for May, but now she felt chilled to the very marrow of her bones. Her mind spun as her trembling fingers fumbled with the laces on the satin half boots he'd provided. Sebastian must know by now that something had happened to her. She'd told him she was in trouble and he knew she desperately wanted to speak to him alone. One blessing was that he didn't yet know about the Baron's threats so there was only one likely reason for her disappearance.

  Two, she thought with a sinking heart. What if he thought she'd gone willingly? The idea made her nauseated. No. Surely he knew how she felt about him. After everything that had been said ... She took a deep breath. No, he trusted her now, and she trusted him. They'd endured too many false starts and revelations, she wouldn't lose faith now. He'd come after her, she was sure of it. Which meant she had to try and delay Beau for as long as possible.

  She looked up at the painting of his mother. There was a terrible sadness in the woman's eyes, and as she looked again she realised she was little more than a girl in the painting. She gave a little scream of surprise as the door opened and Beau strode in.

  "You could knock," she said, glaring at him.

  He grinned at her, unabashed. "Oh, come now, Eve. I knew you'd heed my threat. If I'd wanted to see you in your chemise that desperately I'd have insisted on staying here whilst you changed."

  "Oh, you odious creature!" she exclaimed. Taking a breath she tried to set aside her anger. She doubted losing her temper would get her anywhere. She had to think how to deal with him. Beau wasn't a cruel man. She knew he hated seeing the weak taken advantage of. He'd shown that clearly enough when he'd cared for Miss Sparrow. Lowering her voice, the words were beseeching. "Beau, how can you treat me so? You said yourself we were friends. How can you make me so unhappy?"

  He had glanced up at the painting of his mother and when he turned back to speak, he hurriedly averted his eyes. She wondered how often he'd looked at it. There was an expression on his face that made her believe it wasn't often.

  "Perhaps it's in my blood," he said, his voice dark and angrier than she'd ever heard it. She swallowed a sudden tremor of fear.

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "Nothing," he said, sullen all at once. "Come on, we should go ..."

  Panic rose in her chest. No, no. She needed to give Sebastian more time. "She was very young, when this was painted," she said, hoping her bid to delay wasn't too obvious. But once more his unwilling eyes seemed to be dragged back to his mother's.

  "That was after my father had abducted and raped her," he said, his voice cold and emotionless. "She didn't want to marry him. Didn't want him at all. So he took her." He turned and stared at Georgiana and she felt her blood run cold. "He forced himself upon a girl barely out of the school room and you see the result of that happy union standing before you. Bearing in mind she died in child bed I think the pitiful look in her eyes is rather well captured. Don't you?"

  "Oh, my God, Beau," she whispered. "I'm so very sorry."

  "Not as sorry as she was, I'd wager." His tone was light, as though he was discussing a far different topic, of little consequence. But Georgiana didn't believe his nonchalance was anything of the sort.

  "She would have loved you, Beau. If she'd been given the chance."

  "Good God, Georgiana!" he exploded, making her take an involuntary step backwards. "Don't turn me into some tortured hero when I'm nothing of the sort. I'm in debt and I've already burnt my boats with Sindalton. You're the only hope I have of getting out of this without getting my throat cut and my body thrown in the Thames." He advanced on her, anger glinting in the blue of his eyes. "I'm not a rapist, love," he said, as he grabbed hold of her wrists and pinned her to the wall. Georgiana felt her breathing catch, her chest heaving as her heart thundered behind her ribs. "I'll not follow my father's footsteps that close I swear it. I would never take you by force, you have my word on that. But you will have me."

  He backed off abruptly, but kept hold of one wrist, pulling her behind him and out along the landing. "Now stop this pathetic bid to delay us and get down to the carriage."

  "No!"

  He was standing at the top of the stairs and with her free hand Georgiana shoved him hard and pulled on the wrist he held. He cursed and stumbled down the first two steps before righting himself but lost a hold on her in the process. With a gasp, Georgiana st
epped a little away from him, her eyes glancing around the dark wood panelled walls for escape, and then picked up her skirts and ran.

  She hadn't the faintest notion of where she was going but even if she locked herself in a room, it would take some considerable time to get to her. The thin soles of her satin boots slipped on the parquet as she heard his heavier footfalls close behind her. With a shriek she dived down a dark corridor. A small oak console table sat against the wall at the end of it and she spared a second to stop and tip it over. She heard the crash of china as whatever sat on it shattered and then ran as Beau's curses echoed around the eerie gloom of the mansion. A small spiral stone staircase appeared, barely lit by a glimmer of moonlight through the tiny lattice panes of a window and she flew down them two at a time. Misjudging the final steps as the stairs took an erratic turn to the right at the bottom, she stumbled and fell hard on her knees on the cold stone floor.

  "Georgiana, stop this ridiculous charade!" Beau, yelled from behind her as she yelped and scrambled to her feet. Flinging herself forward into the pitch black she ran down another wider corridor, once more the walls were panelled and lined with doors. Choosing one at random she yanked it open, slamming it behind her and praying there was a lock. The huge iron key turned with a shriek of complaint, but turn it did and she stepped away, panting as Beau hammered on the heavy oak door.

  "Open the damn door, Georgiana!"

  "No," she said, gasping for breath. "Sebastian will come for me, you know he will, Beau. I'm staying right here."

  He fell silent and she strained to listen for him, as all she could hear was her own heart thudding and blood rushing in her ears.

  "So you'd see me dead then." His voice was bleak and despite everything she felt desperately sorry for him. He seemed terribly alone.

  "Of course I wouldn't!" she shouted, exasperated. "I would help you; Sebastian would help you. I know he would."

  There was a snort of amusement. "Sebastian will kill me himself," he replied through the door. "Still, better to die at the hands of a furious lover, than an ignominious murder in a back alley for something as sordid as unpaid debts."

  "Oh, God, Beau!" She slammed her hand against the door in frustration. "You must let us pay the debts for you."

  "No."

  "You can pay us back!" she yelled, beyond furious now. "We'll even charge you interest if it will make you feel better."

  "Oh much," he replied, his tone ironic. "And bearing in mind my father is as hale and hearty now as a man half his age, by the time your children have grown I'll be so utterly beholden to you that you'll own the shirt on my back!" he shouted. "I'll put a gun to my own head before that happens, love."

  He fell silent again and she hoped he had given up on this outrageous scheme to carry her to Gretna. Leaning against the door she put her ear to the wood and listened, but heard nothing, until a floorboard creaked close behind her.

  She screamed as she realised someone was in the room with her.

  "Oh good, God, you frightened me," she exclaimed, seeing him standing half way across the room and holding her hand over her still thudding heart.

  He laughed, though not unkindly. "I'm not surprised. This part of the house is very old, and very haunted. The family was Roman Catholic, back before we ... lapsed," he said with a smirk. "The place is riddled with secret passages and priest holes. We were a fanatical lot back then, went to a lot of trouble to hide people from the priest-hunters during the reformation."

  "How long has your family been here?" Her voice quavered as she backed away from his approach.

  He chuckled, knowing well that she was stalling him. He took her hand, though he was gentler this time, and unlocked the door, meeting her eyes with meaning.

  "This was built in the early sixteenth century, but we've been here a deal longer than that. One of the oldest families in England," he said, but she heard that now familiar mocking tone again instead of pride in the fact. If Sebastian spoke about his father there was such fierce pride in his eyes. All she could see in Beau's was disgust. "Perhaps it's time we died out," he added, turning and grinning at her.

  "Don't say that, Beau," she pleaded, tightening her hand on his.

  "Why not? Sebastian will be here soon I've no doubt. The timing was always going to be my undoing, but I had so little time to prepare, you see." He drew her down yet another corridor and she wondered at his ability to find his way in the dark. "It's my first abduction, so you'll have to forgive me," he added.

  "Oh, stop it, Beau!" she cried, wishing with all her heart there was something she could do to untangle the mess they were in.

  "Hush, Georgiana," he said, turning back to smile at her. "You've played your part well, love," he added, his voice full of admiration. She paused, tugging at his hand.

  "Let me speak to him, let me explain ..."

  He laughed and shook his head. "Sweet, lovely, Eve. You are such a temptation. But no. I've been villain enough for one night. I'll not compound it by hiding behind your skirts."

  They both turned to the window as the sound of horses moving fast over gravel came to their ears. In the glimmer of moonlight that glinted behind a thin grey cloud, a carriage and four grey horses could be seen, thundering towards the house.

  "And here comes our hero," he said softly. "Right on time."

  Chapter 33

  "Wherein the past catches up."

  Sebastian wasn't sure if it was simply relief he felt as he saw Beau's carriage and horses, loaded and ready for a long journey. That she really was here and he'd found her in time was his first concern and the overwhelming relief that he could stop them marrying was beyond anything. But Beau had betrayed him so utterly ... Anger, cold and dark and ugly spread through his veins. He reached down and grabbed hold of the coachman's pistol, always kept close by in case of highwaymen. There was no need to check it was loaded and primed. His staff would never overlook such a consideration. The gun felt heavy and cold and reassuring in his grasp as he leapt down from the carriage and ran towards the doors of the glowering mansion.

  It was strange to think, in all his years of friendship with Beau, he'd never been here before. He knew Beau hated the place, and in truth it surprised him that he'd come here at all. It was only a gut feeling that made him think it likely. He could never be more thankful that he'd been right.

  Slamming through the heavy oak doors of the entrance with a crash, he stilled and tightened his grip on the gun as Beau appeared, his hand wrapped around Georgiana's wrist.

  "Well, what a surprise," his friend exclaimed, sounding jovial and relaxed, though there was a febrile glint in his eyes that betrayed him. "Have you come to felicitate us on our impending nuptials, Sindalton?"

  "Let her go," Sebastian shouted in fury, as he fully locked the hammer on the pistol and raised it, levelling it at his friend.

  Beau dropped Georgiana's hand but to his surprise she exclaimed and ran to stand in front of him.

  "No! Sebastian, don't! You'd never forgive yourself." He watched in fury as Beau gave her a hard shove, sending her stumbling forward, almost losing her footing.

  "Bastard!" he shouted, relieved to see Georgiana catch her balance but never taking his eyes off Beau as he stepped closer. His friend just laughed at him.

  "I knew I shouldn't have dallied," he said, his eyes mocking. "But she was so very sweet, so very innocent ... I just had to have a taste ..."

  He didn't think about it, didn't have time as rage, pure and cold and furious swept over him and his finger squeezed the trigger.

  "No!" Georgiana screamed and the sound of the gun firing rang in his head. It magnified in the cavernous space and echoed around the gloomy walls of the old house as the judging eyes of generations of Ware's glared down at him. He took a breath, aware that Georgiana had pushed him, but before or after he'd fired? Suddenly praying he'd missed he held his breath. But Beau staggered backwards and crumpled to the floor.

  "No!" Georgiana screamed, running towards his fallen friend.
"My God, Sebastian, what have you done?"

  "He hurt you!" he raged, too frozen to take a step closer and see what exactly he had done.

  "He didn't!" she cried, falling beside Beau, her face white with horror. "He never touched me, Sebastian. He wanted to provoke you into killing him!"

  "Oh God."

  Sebastian dropped the gun, numb with shock and abhorrence. He'd relived the past, just as his mother had predicted. But his actions were worse than his father's ... he'd killed an unarmed man, his closest friend, and now the scandal sheets would lay it all at Georgiana's feet, just as they'd condemned her mother.

  "He's not dead!" Georgiana exclaimed. "But we need a doctor. He's bleeding badly."

  They both looked up at a commotion at the front door as Falmouth, Lord Nibley and the most ill-assorted looking bunch of men Sebastian had ever laid eyes on filed into the hall.

  "Damn it, Sindalton!" Falmouth said in disgust, striding over to inspect the bleeding figure on the floor. "What the devil have you done?" He turned to a giant of a man who looked just like an image of a cut-throat in a favourite book about pirates, Sebastian had treasured as a boy. "Mousy, fetch the doctor," he ordered. "Thank God we stopped to pick him up."

  Sebastian steeled himself and walked over to look down at Beau who was white faced, his breathing harsh.

  "You always were a wretched shot, Sin," he rasped and then bit his lip as Falmouth tore his shirt open. The wound was high in his shoulder and bleeding profusely.

  "You bastard," Sebastian said, his voice quiet. "How could you do it, Beau? You knew I loved her."

  Beau just stared back at him. "I'd burnt my last boat," he said with a twisted smile, adding only, "You should have killed me." Before turning his head away.

  With relief Sebastian saw that the doctor was none other than Alperton. At least they could rely on him to keep his mouth shut. Georgiana moved from Beau's side to let the doctor get to him, and after a moment's hesitation, ran into his arms, sobbing.