The Scandalous Flirt

by Olivia Drake

  “He deserves far worse.” Rubbing his knuckles, Lucas cast an irritated glance at her. “Why are you protecting him, anyway? He intended to force himself on you!”

  Her heart glowed in spite of his cross look. Everything in her liquefied into a soppy puddle to know that he would defend her honor. In a milder tone, she said, “I only meant that you mustn’t knock him out. He can show us where the letters are hidden.”

  “Not anymore, he can’t. They’re in my pocket along with the diamond necklace.”

  “But … Stefano said he had a very clever hiding place that was impossible to find. That’s the only reason I came here with him.”

  “They were tucked beneath a loose floorboard in the bedchamber. And why the devil would you be talking to him about the letters, anyway?”

  “It was part of my ruse. I told him that Kitty accused me of blackmail. I coaxed him to admit that he had the letters. Of course, he tried to foist all the blame onto Mrs. Edgerton.”

  “You…” Stefano looked up at her, his bleary eyes revealing shock. “You tricked me, carissima!”

  “She isn’t your dearest, she’s mine,” Lucas snapped. “As for any trickery, it’s poetic justice for what you did to her eight years ago.”

  The sparkle in Rory’s heart kindled a river of fire that coursed downward to pool in the deepest, most private part of her. She reveled in the knowledge that Lucas would openly claim her as his own. She wanted to melt against him, but he stepped away to pick up his pistol.

  The sound of a commotion came from the dimly lit corridor. Two people appeared through the open doorway, a stout older man hauling a woman. He was Lucas’s coachman, Rory realized. He had a firm grip on Mrs. Edgerton’s arm.

  Her furious voice echoed in the passageway. “Unhand me, you varlet! Or I shall scream!”

  The servant ignored her, bringing her through the doorway and straight to Lucas. “Here she is, milord. Just as ye asked.”

  “Thank you, John. Kindly stand guard right outside.” Lucas handed his pistol to the man. “Feel free to shoot either of these two rats should they attempt to leave without my permission.”

  “Aye, milord.” The coachman stepped out and closed the door.

  Mrs. Edgerton sucked in an angry breath that made her bosom strain against her bodice. An elegant ruby gown edged in black lace adorned her curvy form, and a dyed red egret feather wagged in her black bonnet. “This is an outrage! Lord Dashell, what is the meaning of this? And you, Miss Paxton! What are you doing here?”

  “Better I should ask you that,” Rory said. “For it seems you are content to take my leavings.” She looked pointedly at Stefano, who still sprawled on the floor, moaning.

  Mrs. Edgerton’s eyes widened as she spied him for the first time. She lifted a gloved hand to her mouth, then rushed to his side, looking down at him. “Oh, my poor darling. What have they done to you?”

  “He has received his just deserts,” Lucas said. “Or at least a portion, anyway.”

  She flashed him a calculating look, as if she were trying to figure out how much they knew. “What do you mean? Did he attempt to seduce Miss Paxton again?”

  “Yes. And you’ll not be surprised to know that he also had this in his possession.” Reaching inside his coat, Lucas pulled out the packet of letters.

  Rory stared. There were not very many of them, perhaps only five or so. They were neatly tied with a pink ribbon. So much fuss over a few scraps of paper!

  Mrs. Edgerton stood very still. She gave an artificial laugh. “Letters? I can’t imagine what they have to do with me.”

  Stefano stirred, a frown on his bruised face. “But Nadine—!”

  A black shoe from beneath her skirt discreetly kicked him into silence.

  “I also found something else hidden beneath the floorboard in the bedchamber.” Lucas produced the diamond necklace. In the lamplight, it glittered in the palm of his hand. “I believe it belongs to Mrs. Paxton.”

  “It does, indeed,” Rory confirmed. “My papa gave it to her on the occasion of their marriage. It is her finest piece of jewelry. But I’m sure you are well aware of that, Mrs. Edgerton.”

  “I’ve seen her wearing it, yes. Though not for the past week or so, come to think of it. Why, whatever is it doing here?”

  “You know why—” Stefano began.

  “Hush!” Mrs. Edgerton glared down at him. “You took the letters and the necklace from Kitty. I had nothing to do with this. Nothing whatsoever.”

  A string of rapid Italian phrases issued from him, and Rory could only assume they were curses. “That isn’t what Stefano told me,” she said. “He blamed it all on you.”

  “Me?” Her gloved hand fluttered to her bosom. “How absurd. Why would I blackmail a dear friend of mine?”

  “Who mentioned blackmail?” Lucas asked, fixing her with a lordly stare.

  Mrs. Edgerton’s cheeks went pale. “I—I thought you said…”

  “No, I did not. Nor did I ever say the letters belonged to Mrs. Paxton.”

  While her lips flapped wordlessly, Stefano struggled to rise. He leaned against the wall for support, his gaze sullen and a reddened welt on his jaw. “It was Nadine’s plan,” he babbled. “She found the letters in the sewing basket. I caught her stealing them during the ball. Then she forced me to write the blackmail notes!”

  “Will you be silent?” she snapped. “You have diplomatic immunity. They can’t do a thing to you.”

  “Quite the contrary,” Lucas said, tucking the letters and the necklace back inside his coat. “As an influential member of the government, I can have a word with the Italian ambassador and ensure that Stefano loses his position, especially given his history of corrupt behavior. As for you, Mrs. Edgerton, blackmail is a serious criminal offense.”

  Her face appeared paper-white against the black and red of her bonnet. “You won’t tell the magistrate. Why, the contents of those letters will create a scandal!”

  “Perhaps. But it will be worth it to see you hang for all the trouble you’ve caused Miss Paxton—and her stepmother.”

  Mrs. Edgerton’s hand went to her neck as if she were imagining a noose tightening around it. She swayed on her feet and then swung toward Stefano. “You cannot allow this to happen. Stop him!”

  “How?” he whined, ceasing to cup his injured jaw long enough to scowl at her. “I will lose my post because of you!”

  Rory glanced at Lucas. Despite his impassive expression, she knew he was toying with them. He would never allow love letters written by his father to be made public in a court of law. What did he plan to do?

  He paced in front of the couple, his hands on his hips. “There is another solution,” he said. “One that will allow Mrs. Edgerton to save her pretty neck.”

  “What?” she squeaked, darting forward to clutch at his arm. “Pray tell me, my lord. I will do anything you ask.”

  He gave her such a withering look that she stepped back. “You and Stefano will depart England on the first available ship. And you will never return.”

  “Leave society? Forever?”

  “Yes. And if I ever find you back on these shores, I shall bring the full force of the law down on both of you. Is that understood?”

  “But, my lord—”

  “This is not a negotiation. You may take my generous offer. Or you may hang. It makes no difference to me.”

  Rory gawked at him in admiration. It was the perfect solution. And far cleverer than anything she could have imagined. His powerful position and stellar reputation lent considerable weight to his decree. He looked forbidding and merciless, and they couldn’t possibly know that he had a soft heart beneath that iron mask.

  But she knew. He had defended her honor, protected Foster’s secret, cared for his invalid mother. And he could kiss with toe-curling tenderness, making Rory feel as if she were the most important woman in the world.

  She faced the truth in that moment. Foolish or not, she had fallen head over heels in love with the Marquess of
Dashell.

  * * *

  Walking up the steps to his front door, Lucas kept his hand at the base of Rory’s back. A chilly breeze spattered them with raindrops. He was keenly aware that he had very little time left with her. Now that the letters had been found and the necklace recovered, she would be leaving his employ. There would no longer be any reason to continue the pretense that she was his mother’s companion.

  Both Stefano and Mrs. Edgerton had agreed to his plan. Lucas had given them a few days to tidy up their affairs here in London. Mrs. Edgerton, in particular, would need to arrange for an agent to handle the sale of her house and belongings. They were to tell anyone who asked that they were engaged and eager to go to Italy for the wedding.

  Jarvis greeted them in the entrance hall. “Good evening, my lord, Miss Paxton.”

  Lucas handed over his hat and coat. “Is my mother asleep?”

  “Yes, Mrs. Culpepper is staying with her tonight. They entertained quite a lot of visitors today. If I may say, her ladyship has never looked happier.”

  Lucas was glad of that, at least. “And my brother?”

  “Lord Henry went out earlier and has not yet returned. Will you be requiring anything else this evening?”

  “Tea and sandwiches in my study.” Lucas looked at Rory. “We will continue our discussion, Miss Paxton, if that is agreeable to you.”

  “Absolutely!”

  Her dark eyes danced with enjoyment, and he felt his gut tighten with excruciating desire. This might be his last opportunity to be alone with her. He didn’t know how he could bear to see her walk out of his life. He wanted to slow the passage of time, to give him the chance to store up memories of her.

  She removed her bonnet and cloak and handed them to the butler. The leaf-green gown was in the latest stare of fashion. She might have been a fine lady returning home from a party with her husband.

  But he could never take her as his wife.

  Weighed down by that reality, Lucas led her past the grand staircase and toward his study at the rear of the house. The echo of their footsteps sounded lonely in the long marble corridor. Tonight, his ancestral house seemed more like a mausoleum than a home. He ought to be elated at having recovered the letters. He had cleared the path for his marriage to Alice Kipling. Less than a week ago, he had thought his future was settled.

  It was still settled, he reminded himself. Yet now more than ever, the course of his life seemed like a grinding duty.

  They entered the study with its floor-to-ceiling bookcases and the large mahogany desk where he often sat to scrutinize the estate ledgers, valiantly checking and double-checking the numbers, hoping to find a way to pay off his father’s crushing debts. They were his debts now. Only a vast infusion of wealth would save him from penury. He had an obligation to provide for his mother and brother, and to create a solvent legacy for future generations.

  He had no right even to contemplate marrying for love.

  “Will you return the letters to my stepmother?” Rory asked.

  Lucas took out the packet and held its light weight in his palm. “I would be quite happy to burn them. Shall I light a fire?”

  “No! They don’t belong to us. Let me have a look at them, anyway.”

  She snatched the letters out of his hand and untied the pink ribbon, then took the topmost one to the desk to examine it by the light of the lamp. Frowning, she ran her fingertip over the writing. “The ink is quite faded.”

  Seeing her unfold the paper, he stepped to her side. “For God’s sake, Rory. You can’t read that. It’s private.”

  “So? We went to an awful lot of trouble to find these letters. We ought to at least know what is in them.”

  Rory spoke absently without looking up at him. She was already scanning the first few lines. The last thing he wanted was for her to read lewd hyperbole composed by his father. “Give that to me.”

  He snatched it away, and she cried out, “Lucas, wait! Look at the date. Kitty implied that the affair took place shortly before my father’s death seven years ago. But this letter was written nearly nineteen years ago.”

  He shook his head impatiently. “What difference does that make?”

  “It makes a huge difference. It means that the affair must have occurred just before Kitty married Papa.” Rory reached out, her fingers biting into his arm. Her dark eyes shone large and tragic in the pale oval of her face. “Oh, Lucas, you don’t suppose…”

  Her unspoken suspicion leaped wholly formed into his mind. His blood ran cold. It wasn’t possible … was it?

  Slowly, he said, “You’re thinking she was already with child when she married your father. And that Celeste is…”

  “Your half sister. Not mine.”

  Chapter 23

  Polite society is savage toward ladies who fall from grace.

  —MISS CELLANY

  Grimshaw showed them up to the drawing room at her stepmother’s house. Clinging to Lucas’s arm, Rory noticed the butler’s toadying manner only peripherally. Foster must have spoken to him. But Rory had no interest in berating him for his treatment of the maid and their bastard son. That would have to wait until another day.

  At the moment, she was too consumed with trying to adjust her mind to the awful probability of Celeste’s parentage. It pained her heart to think that Celeste wasn’t truly her sister. They shared no blood relation at all.

  Kitty had closely guarded that secret all these years.

  Her stepmother paced back and forth in front of the fireplace. Still garbed in the gold gown she’d worn to the theater, she came scurrying forward. She was clutching a lace handkerchief, and her eyes were wet with tears.

  “Aurora! How did you receive my message so quickly? I sent it only a few minutes ago.”

  “Message?”

  “Oh, never mind. All that matters is that you’re here! The most dreadful thing has happened.”

  “I see,” Rory said tersely, thinking it likely had to do with a glitch in the wedding preparations. “Well, I didn’t come here to listen to your petty problems.”

  “Petty? How can you be so cruel? And at such a time!” Kitty launched into a bout of noisy weeping. “Everything is ruined. Ruined!”

  Lucas put an arm around her plump form and guided her to a chaise. He went to the sideboard and poured her a sherry, then returned to press it into her hand. “Drink this down and wipe your eyes,” he ordered. “Then tell us what’s wrong.”

  At his commanding tone, she gulped the wine and dabbed at her damp face with the handkerchief. “It’s Celeste,” she said brokenly. “Oh, dear heavens, she’s gone!”

  Her own anger forgotten, Rory rushed to her stepmother. “What do you mean, gone?”

  “She pleaded a headache and stayed home tonight. When I returned from the theater a little while ago, I went to her bedchamber to check on her.” Kitty drew a shuddery breath and pointed to a nearby table. “That … that note was on her pillow.”

  Rory snatched up the crumpled paper and read it aloud. “‘Dearest Mama, it pains me to inform you that I cannot marry Whittingham. I would be wretchedly unhappy as his duchess. Thusly, I have gone away with the man whom I love with all my heart. No doubt you shall be frantic with worry, but pray do not despair! He is a fine, honorable gentleman who adores me every bit as much as I adore him. By the time you see me again, we shall be husband and wife. Please do try to be happy for me. Your loving daughter, Celeste.’”

  Aghast, Rory lifted her gaze to Lucas. Every particle of her body turned to ice as dread caught her by the throat. Celeste had run off with another man. And only one name came to mind.

  Lord Henry.

  Lucas’s face revealed his shock and alarm. She knew that he, too, was remembering seeing them together here in this room. Talking and laughing, their heads together, looking like the perfect young couple in love. There had been a conspiratorial air about them …

  He grabbed Kitty by the arms. “Who? Who is this man?”

  Shaking her head,
she twisted the handkerchief in her fingers. “How am I to know, my lord? I thought she was happy with Whittingham.”

  “Of course she wasn’t happy,” Rory flared. “I warned you, but you just wouldn’t listen.”

  Kitty’s lower lip wobbled. “Oh, don’t scold me, Aurora. I feel terrible enough already.”

  Lucas breathed deeply as if struggling to control his temper. “We found your letters tonight,” he said tersely. “Mrs. Edgerton and Stefano admitted to blackmailing you.”

  He reached into his coat and brought out the ribbon-wrapped packet, tossing it down onto the table along with the diamond necklace. The jewels glinted in the light of the fire.

  “None of that matters anymore,” Kitty said woefully as she glanced at the items. “There will be a scandal anyway. Because Celeste has jilted the duke.”

  “It does indeed matter,” he snapped. “I have every reason to believe that your daughter has eloped with my brother, Henry.”

  Rory stepped forward. “And I think you know the implications of that, don’t you? They are half brother and sister.”

  Kitty stared, glassy-eyed, from her to Lucas. Her lips moved as if to deny it, but no words came out. She turned as pale as the handkerchief in her hand. Then she uttered a moan and crumpled into a swoon upon the chaise.

  * * *

  An hour later, Rory sat beside Lucas in an old curricle that had belonged to his father. It was past midnight, and darkness swallowed them as they left the gaslights of London behind. She had tossed a few essentials into a bandbox that was secured to the back. Lucas had done the same with a satchel on their swift return to his house to fetch a faster vehicle.

  It was impossible to know how long it would take to find the runaways. They undoubtedly were heading for Gretna Green. Unlike England, Scotland had no waiting period for an underage couple to marry. She prayed they would catch up to the pair before they committed a tragic mistake.

  “I’m surprised Henry didn’t take this carriage,” Lucas said, frowning at the darkened road. “The tilbury is faster, but it’s far too dangerous to drive at night. Blast him, he should know better.”