With Alyssa such a sumptuous lover, he didn’t need or want any other woman in his bed. Nor could he imagine that another woman could amuse, stimulate and encourage him as well as Alyssa.
Sighing, he glanced at the note she’d left after her sudden departure. At first, he’d been surprised and alarmed that she’d departed without a goodbye. But after she’d detailed her reasons, he couldn’t help but agree. Leaving became more difficult the longer she put it off, she wrote; she dreaded bidding him farewell and, with all in readiness, found it easier just to go. After all, during that last night together they had expressed everything that needed to be said without words.
She was right. If she’d waited to see him, he’d just have been tempted to tease her to linger and she had sketches to complete. He should occupy himself in the interim in hunting up that agent he volunteered to find, someone who could enthusiastically represent the great work she had undertaken. Few other individuals, he thought with pride, possessed the talent to accomplish what she was doing.
Besides, the sooner she left, the sooner she would be back again.
On that cheering note, he rose and headed to his chamber. He’d don greatcoat and hat and proceed to the public house. The meeting wouldn’t begin for some time yet, but arriving early would allow him to organise his thoughts—and get him out of a place where everything reminded him of Alyssa.
Amazing how quickly her scent and presence had come to permeate the very bricks of that Queen Street town house.
* * *
A short time later, a full mug of ale on the table before him, Ben sat in the upper chamber at the Quill and Gavel. Somewhat to his surprise, none of the other Hellions had arrived yet. He was beginning to suspect he’d misread the time—Giles’s assistant must have penned the note, for the handwriting was unfamiliar to him—but unfortunately, he hadn’t brought it with him.
He’d about decided to go hunt up Christopher when the door opened. Rather than one of his friends, a scantily clad young female waltzed in.
‘There you are, darlin’,’ she said, coming to him with a smile. ‘Didn’t mean to leave you waitin’ so long.’
Ben rose and gave her a polite smile in return. ‘Sorry, miss, but you must have the wrong chamber. We’re about to convene a political meeting here.’
‘It that what they’re calling it now? If the other gents are as handsome as you, luv, doing “politics” will be a rare pleasure.’
Before Ben could imagine what she intended, the harlot pushed him back into his chair and hopped on to his lap, her skirts hiking up as she straddled him. Grabbing his head with both hands in a surprisingly strong grip, she pressed her lips to his.
More amused than concerned, Ben put his hands on hers, turning his head away from her kiss while he tried to work her fingers loose without hurting her. ‘I appreciate your ardour, miss, but it’s—’
Before he could complete the sentence, the door burst open. A bevy of gentleman ran in, laughing, trailed by a man with a pen and sketchbook—and Lord Denbry.
‘Ben Tawny, back to his old pursuits!’ the Earl said with a sneer. ‘Guess the shine has worn off the wedding ring already.’
‘You arranged this,’ Ben said, trying to control an immediate flare of anger—and a tiny niggle of panic. Alyssa had been quite sensible about disregarding Lady Darlington’s advances—but a further incident might shake her confidence in him. ‘Very well, you’ve had your fun. Take the girl and go.’
‘In good time. But not before we get an image to immortalise the scene.’ He gestured to the man leaning against the door frame, tracing in his sketchbook. ‘Ralph Winsted. One of the best broadside artists around. What shall we title this one, Ralph? How about “Newly Wed Member of Parliament Cavorting With a Tart”? That should amuse your friends in the Commons. It will make quite an impression in the district of Launton, too, don’t you think?’
He snapped his fingers. With a whispered, ‘Sorry, sir’, the girl clambered off Ben’s lap and hurried out of the room.
Ben recognised Denbry’s associates, most of them very drunk, as they slapped each other on the back, shook hands, or tippled from the bottles they carried.
‘Good one, Denbry!’ one cried.
‘That’ll make up for Dornton,’ another said.
While Rossiter added, ‘Can’t wait to see it posted all over London. You took the dowry that should have been mine; now Denbry will take care of your reputation.’
‘Yes, that should even the score for Dornton—and Devon,’ the Earl said, the gaze he fixed on Ben a mingling of loathing and triumph. ‘I promised you’d be sorry, didn’t I?’
His mind working furiously to sort out all the implications, Ben met Denbry’s gaze with one just as hard, until Denbry looked away first.
‘All right, lads, time to move on to the next amusement,’ the Earl said, herding his followers out of the room. ‘Though nothing will top the satisfaction of this. I think we can agree I’m the final winner of this wager, eh, Tawny?’ he said, turning back to Ben. ‘Or should I refer to you as the former Member of Parliament from Launton?’
Chuckling, he strolled out.
For several long minutes, Ben didn’t even move, as he struggled to suppress the anger and turn his energy to deciding how to limit the damage.
Four viewpoints would be better than one.
No wonder he hadn’t recognised the handwriting on the note. But although Giles had evidently not called a meeting, Ben was about to convene one for perhaps the most important strategy session they’d ever conducted. With his political future, and perhaps his marriage, hanging in the balance.
* * *
After dispatching Russell to Upper Brook Street to warn Giles of the impending arrival of the Hellions, Ben spent two hours tracking Davie down at a family party and extracting Christopher from the arms of his current lovely. Finally, three hours after Denbry had sprung his trap, Ben and his friends were gathered in Giles’s library, Ben pacing as he related the lurid details.
Holding up a hand to silence the curses that erupted when Ben finished, Giles said, ‘Let’s dispense with commenting on the vileness of Denbry’s character, a point on which we all agree, and proceed to assess how best to counter this assault on Ben.’
‘Any chance of buying off the artist or publisher?’ Christopher asked.
‘Probably not,’ Ben said. ‘With the public’s insatiable appetite for scandal, the publisher knows he’ll be able to sell out a large print run. Nor are they worried about being hit with a suit for slander; Denbry was clever there. I may have been set up, but I can’t claim the image is false; half-a-dozen witnesses can testify they saw it happen.’
‘We’ll need to go to the party leaders first thing tomorrow, before they can print and distribute the broadside,’ Davie said. ‘By then, we’ll have thought of something they can reply to any enquiries they get.’
‘Probably best that they make no comment at all, since the facts can’t be disputed,’ Giles said.
‘You’re right, they will probably decide to wait and see how much uproar this causes,’ Davie agreed.
‘To see whether I’ve become too much of a liability to continue to support,’ Ben added bitterly. ‘Damn and blast, it was bad enough to be thought a despoiler of innocents. But to be seen publically cavorting with harlots within a month of my wedding—how could any rational man not doubt my claims to value the worth and dignity of all, when I seem to display such poor taste and bad judgement?’
‘Any chance of getting the girl to testify she was paid—or coerced—into doing this?’ Davie asked.
‘How do you find one tart among so many in the London underworld?’ Ben said. ‘Besides, the girl would probably refuse, fearing retribution from Denbry—or from the man who manages her, whom Denbry paid to have her do it.’
Christopher straigh
tened, his eyes alight with sudden enthusiasm. ‘Maybe it’s not so impossible. You all remember my mother’s friend, Ellie Parmenter? Long-time mistress of old Lord Summerville, who passed away this fall? Left her well enough situated, my mother said, that she’s not looking for a new protector. Instead, to Mama’s great amusement, she is quietly assisting girls who want to leave the life. Knows her way around the pleasure districts of London. If there is a chance of finding the girl, Ellie might be able to do it.’
‘Would she do it?’ Giles asked. ‘Ben is right; the girl would be reluctant to speak, knowing the consequences. If Ellie persuades her, offering to protect her if she testifies, she could make herself some unpleasant enemies.’
Christopher shrugged. ‘I’ve known her since before I went to Oxford. As I vaguely recollect, there was something off in how Summerville came to claim her to begin with—she was the daughter of gentleman who hadn’t funds to pay a debt and he took her instead, or something. Which might explain her current occupation. If she were a victim of injustice herself, she’d be even more interested in righting the wrong done to Ben.’
‘It’s certainly worth exploring. But I also think—Maggie, my dear, what are you doing awake?’ Giles said, jumping up to meet the lady who’d just entered the study.
‘I heard voices,’ she said, leaning into her husband’s embrace.
‘So sorry to have disturbed you, Maggie,’ Davie said. ‘Please accept our congratulations on your splendid news!’
‘Thank you,’ she said, pinking with pleasure as Ben and Christopher added their good wishes. ‘We’re both delighted. Although I’m not pleased to appear such a poor honey, my husband feels compelled to cancel meetings. But such serious expressions! What’s amiss?’
‘I admit, we would all appreciate your advice on a rather delicate problem. Are you sure you feel well enough to remain?’ Giles asked anxiously.
‘I think I can promise not to lose my dinner—as long as you don’t wave wine fumes under my nose,’ she added, pushing away the glass Christopher was about to offer. ‘I will take your armchair, though.’
After Maggie had seated herself and tartly told her husband to stop fussing, Ben proceeded to relate his present difficulties.
‘Infamous!’ Maggie declared. ‘How I should like to give Denbry back some of his own! Ben, isn’t your father acquainted with Denbry’s father? I shall have to ask Papa. But for the near term—you need to visit your district, Ben. Preferably before the broadsheets can be distributed.’
‘I was about to recommend the same thing,’ Giles said.
‘If I weren’t feeling so poorly, I would go with you. Although,’ she said, looking back at Ben, ‘my presence wouldn’t help much; the people of your district don’t know me. The female you need beside you, strongly refuting the image in the broadside, is your wife.’
The idea both cheered—and saddened—Ben. ‘I’d love to have her beside me, but that’s not possible. For one, she’s already left London on a sketching expedition to finish the drawings essential to meeting the publisher’s deadline. If she misses that, he can pull out on his offer to publish the book. Nor would I wish to embroil her in so tawdry a scandal. Besides, she’s been clear from the beginning that she had no desire to play the politician’s wife.’ He gave Maggie an apologetic look. ‘I more or less promised her that you would take on any political hostess duties I needed.’
‘Under ordinary circumstances, I would be happy to. But nothing could do more to counter the impression created by the broadside than having your wife go with you to tour Launton. The party leaders will be watching, too, you can be assured.’
If he lost the confidence of the leadership...if they considered his support a detriment to the reform cause, he’d be pushed out of any chance to make his voice heard, to make a difference. In that case, he might as well not stand for re-election, regardless of what the electors of his district thought.
What would he do then? Slink away to the acres his father had promised? If, after the scandal, the Viscount still supported him. But what of the work that had occupied his heart and his life for almost ten years?
For the first time, he fully understood why Alyssa had been ready to throw away her reputation and any chance of marriage, if it meant she could do the work she felt she’d been born for.
‘You know where she will be and when?’ Maggie’s voice recalled him.
‘Yes,’ Ben admitted.
‘Then write to her! Surely she can spare a few weeks, when it might mean rescuing your career!’
‘At the cost of hers?’
‘You could at least write and ask her,’ Maggie countered.
‘It’s my career. My problem. My scandal,’ Ben said, unable to put into words why he felt so strongly about not pulling Alyssa away from her endeavour. ‘I agree, it would be wisest for me to set out for Launton without delay and speak to as many voters as possible before the broadsides appear. I’ve represented these people for seven years. By now, they should trust my word and my promises. If they don’t believe me...’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t be their representative.’
Maggie shook her head. ‘I think you’re being foolishly stubborn.’
Giles put a restraining hand on his wife’s arm. ‘It is his problem, though, Maggie love. We can offer advice, but Ben must do what he feels is best for him. So, off to Launton then, as soon as you can get away?’
‘Yes. Tomorrow, if I can manage it.’
‘I’ll talk with Ellie,’ Christopher said. ‘Even if she can find the girl, it won’t be soon enough to stop the presses. But we might be able to get a retraction—or have the publisher issue a follow-on broadside. “Dissolute Marquess’s Son Hires Prostitute to Discredit Respectable Member of Parliament.”’
‘That ought to appeal to the publisher,’ Davie observed. ‘He could reissue the first, sell them in pairs and double his profit.’
‘You’ll at least think about writing to Alyssa?’ Maggie asked. ‘She’s your wife. She would want to know.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ he promised. ‘Now, if I’m to be off to Launton tomorrow, I’d better start making preparations. Thanks to all of you for gathering on short notice and offering your advice.’
Giles waved off his gratitude. ‘We Hellions always guard each other’s backs.’
Giving Ben’s shoulder a pat, his friends bid their host and hostess good night and left the study.
‘If you think of anything else we can do, you’ll let us know?’ Davie asked as they paused on the street outside the town house.
‘Of course.’
‘Then best of luck.’
With that, the men set off in different directions, Ben walking slowly back towards Queen Street.
* * *
Later, as he packed his belongings and sent Russell off to arrange for a coach, Ben considered again Maggie’s plea that he write Alyssa. He felt more discouraged than he’d wanted to admit to the Hellions, and knew he’d feel better with his wife beside him. It shocked him a little to realise that despite their support and encouragement, he felt so keenly the lack of Alyssa’s.
Because her heart and soul were more closely in tune with his—even closer than the men who’d been as dear as family to him for fifteen years?
Because he loved her?
Taking a long, slow breath, he let himself explore the idea that he might be in love with his wife. Somehow, facing the potential ruin of his career, the possibility that he might have made himself vulnerable by falling in love no longer seemed so threatening.
Why had he been holding back, keeping his heart close, hesitant to make that final commitment? This was Alyssa, not some aristocrat who would abandon him for title and position, leaving him bereft. Loving her placed him in no danger—no more danger than anyone who loves and can be devastated by loss.
If he were honest, he’d probably lost his heart long ago, somewhere on the road to Cornwall and back, when the engaging, surprising, mischievous woman chance had led him to marry had shown him depth of her passion and the power of her understanding.
Did she love him? She was fond of him and admired him, he knew. The urge to ask her at the next opportunity bubbled up and he repressed it. Like passion, if love had come to her, he would have to let her find that truth and admit it in her own time, as he had. She was at heart an artist, who needed to be independent to do her work, who would feel threatened if he tried to force her into admitting affection—or fitting into the role of a politician’s wife.
Asking her to travel back from the coast and accompany him on a tour through his district would consume weeks. Quite probably, the rare migrant birds the publisher insisted must be included in her work would have left their winter grounds by then. She’d lose her chance to get her collection published.
He couldn’t ask her to do that.
No matter how much he missed her. No matter how helpful it would be to have her in Launton. No matter how much he yearned to have her affirm, not just admiration, but love.
If he wanted her love, he would have to prove his own, by giving her what she’d wanted most when she agreed to marry him—the freedom to pursue her art.
And if he could not surmount the scandal, lost his seat and his influence, could Alyssa love a man who’d failed to achieve his purpose?
Damping down despair at the thought of forfeiting her esteem for ever, Ben set his jaw and strapped up his trunk.
Despite Maggie’s advice, he would not write to Alyssa.
Chapter Eighteen
A week later, hat in hand while the assistant she’d hired carried her art supplies, Alyssa returned to the inn in the village near Liverpool she’d made her base for this series of sketches along the coast. Though they normally wintered further to the north, she’d hoped to find some Bernacles, Brent Geese, or Wild Swan, the swan being one bird particularly desired by the publisher.
Convenient Proposal to the Lady Page 22
