“Do?”
“Really, Christian, you can’t daily with innocents and expect there to be no repercussions. What are your intentions regarding Miss Cassell?”
Merissa held her breath. It was too much to hope for. Too much...
Lady Northrup broke the endless silence. “Damn you, Christian. You’re a fool!”
A third voice intervened: “Good heavens! What’s happened?”
“Nothing so awful, Lady Wentfield.” The hostess resumed her normal gracious composure. “One of the guests has taken ill, and Lord Bedlington has offered to carry her out to the waiting chaise.”
“Dear me! Who is it?”
“Miss Cassell. Her father is rector at a nearby church. I fear it must be a fainting spell.”
“No, she’s caught a chill,” Christian announced.
“Oh, it’s one of those quaint little gapeseeds you invited.” Lady Wentfield’s voice fairly sang with relief. “I shouldn’t imagine she’ll be missed.”
Lady Northrup cleared her throat. “Really, Hortense. That remark was most ungracious. I’ll pretend I did not hear it.”
There was a choked sound, and Merissa had the satisfaction of knowing that Lady Wentfield perceived she had made a significant social blunder.
A door opened and the air felt cool on Merissa’s skin. “Cover her with a cloak, Christian!” Lady Northrup exhorted. “You’re really quite cow-handed with ladies, aren’t you?”
“Cow-handed!” Merissa’s rescuer fairly sputtered with indignation. “I’ll have you know that my favors are besought by many a maiden.”
“Maidens, Christian? I think not. It’s strumpets and actresses who desire your skills. Speaking of which, has that awful Lady Fortescue left yet? I have no recollection of inviting her. Indeed, I do not think I could have done so. She’s a dreadful bore, as well as being lewd and obnoxious.”
Merissa sought to repress a giggle. Whatever else could be said for this assemblage, she heartily liked the hostess!
“I’ll manage nicely without your help.” Christian spoke through gritted teeth.
Merissa felt herself being lifted into a carriage, propped against the plush squabs, and carefully wrapped in a carriage robe.
“I’ll get Miss Elizabeth,” Lady Northrup said. The carriage door closed. Merissa leaned back and sighed.
“Merissa?” A short while later, she heard Elizabeth’s timid voice. Merissa blinked against the brightness of a carriage lantern. “Oh, my poor dear.” Elizabeth climbed into the vehicle and slid next to her. Before Merissa could explain that she was not really ill, her sister leaned close and said, “I can hardly blame you for finding a means to leave. The gossip was quite cruel. I tried to shut my ears, but I, too, overheard some of the remarks.”
“Remarks?” Merissa asked in a panic. “What were they saying?” If innuendoes about her and Christian were already circulating, there could be no hope of forestalling a scandal.
“It was exactly as you warned me,” Elizabeth said indignantly. “Because we’re poor nobodies, they see fit to laugh at us and criticize our clothing. So, we’re not in first stare of fashion. I thought we both looked very nice. And Lord Northrup said as much to me. What a charming gentleman! And his wife—have you ever met anyone with such elegant manners? She was the model of graciousness. She actually apologized to me as I went out.
“Can you imagine it?” Elizabeth continued. “A countess! And she begged my pardon for not offering more convivial company! I can scarce credit her consideration of our feelings.”
Merissa could stand it no longer. “It was not because my feelings were hurt that I found a means to leave. I don’t care a fig for what they say about me—those puffed up tabbies!”
“Then, what is it? I thought you were having fun?”
The wistfulness in Elizabeth’s voice tweaked Merissa’s guilt. If not for her, Elizabeth would have been able to spend more time with Richard. “It’s because... that is...”
No, she could not even hint to Elizabeth what had happened with Christian. Her sister would be shocked to the core. “The fact is, actually, I am feeling a bit under the weather.”
“Oh, poor thing!” Elizabeth reached over and felt Merissa’s forehead. “I thought certain when Lady Northrup told me not to worry, she meant that you were not ill at all, but simply using it as an excuse to leave. Goodness, you do feel hot! What could it be, I wonder? I hope not a fever. They can be so difficult to recover from, especially in the spring when it’s cold and damp. Why, Mrs. Hammond was just telling me about the Wilson girls—their coughs have hung on for months.” She tugged the lap robe up to Merissa’s chin.
Merissa sighed. Now Elizabeth was going to coddle and smother her for weeks. Was that not punishment enough for what she had done?
Hardly. Her face began to burn as the coach drove away and her thoughts returned to the scene in the bedroom. What Christian had done to her was obscene, depraved, and yet, she had enjoyed every delicious moment!
Charles’ disgrace again came to mind. Was there some taint of moral corruption in the Cassell blood? But, no, Elizabeth and her father did not suffer from such base weakness. It was only Charles and she who possessed the affliction.
Merissa’s tears pricked her closed eyelids. All this time, she’d blamed Charles for being weak, but she was every bit as sinful and wicked as he. Why, if anyone had discovered Christian and her in the bedroom, her reputation would have been ruined, and along with it, her sister’s and father’s good names. How could she have been so selfish?
“There, there.” Elizabeth patted her arm. “We’ll be home soon, and you can climb into a nice warm bed and rest.”
Merissa swallowed a sob. Elizabeth was right. She must learn not to be so impulsive. From now on, she would be a model of restraint and decorum. What had happened with Christian could never happen again. She would not allow it. Indeed, she must refuse to ever be alone with him in the future.
What makes you think you’ll ever see him again anyway? He’s had his pleasure, won his conquest. Why should he bother with a “little countrified nobody” now that he’s had his fun?
The ugly, mocking thoughts echoed in Merissa’s head, and she gritted her teeth to keep from moaning aloud. Oh, fie, fie on her! Bad enough that she gave in to temptation, but it had to be with a man like Christian Faraday. A man who could charm the very angels out of heaven if he wished it. A man who could have any woman he wanted.
She was nothing to him. A few days’ diversion. Soon, he would go back to his glittering life in London. It was doubtful he would give her another thought after this night.
When the coach stopped and the burly Northrup footman reached in to help her out, Merissa did not demur when Elizabeth insisted that the servant carry her into the house. A broken heart could be as prostrating as any fever.
~ ~ ~
“Christian Faraday, what have you done?” Caroline closed the drawing room door and approached Christian, her green eyes narrowed like a cat’s. “You promised you wouldn’t take advantage of Merissa Cassell. You said you were trying to reform!”
“I am trying!” Christian put down his brandy and rose to his feet. “The fact is, I didn’t deflower her. And I took great pains to see that no one knew we were alone together. Her reputation is intact.”
“But what of her heart, Christian? Are you going to tell me that you did not lead her to believe you cared more for her than you do?”
“Yes... I mean, no... I mean... I do care for her. She’s a beautiful, sweet young woman and I would never want to hurt her.” Christian ran his hand through his hair and glanced imploringly at Devon. His friend raised his eyebrows but said nothing.
“It’s not as simple as that,” Caroline continued angrily. “You can’t dance and flirt and take liberties with an innocent, and not think about the consequences. Merissa Cassell is not some jaded London miss who’s used to being fussed over. If you’ve done anything more than kiss her, she’s probably expecting you to propose ma
rriage. And, by rights, you probably should.”
“Gads, no!” Christian exclaimed. “I mean, I’m certain Merissa would make a lovely wife, but I’ve vowed never to marry. It wouldn’t be fair to the woman—I’d make a terrible husband.” He looked to Devon for confirmation. Devon raised his brows again.
“That’s probably so,” Caroline agreed. “I daresay I wouldn’t wish a rake like you on any woman, certainly not one I liked. And I do like Miss Cassell. She and her sister seem a cut above the rest of Derlingham society. Not only are they obviously well-educated and intelligent, but they have an appealing genuineness and warmth about them. If you proposed to Merissa and she accepted, you could be certain she was marrying you for yourself rather than your money or title.”
Christian reflected that this was true. Merissa was incapable of playing the coy games so many women affected in order to snare a rich husband. It didn’t matter, he thought unhappily as he retrieved his brandy. He and Merissa Cassell came from far too different circumstances to ever get on. Besides, he meant what he’d said. He’d inevitably end up disappointing her, and he could not face the thought of that.
He sat down in one of the brocade armchairs and met his hostess’ gaze. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I know I should not have... ah... been alone with Merissa. But what’s done is done. I did take pains not to sully either her virginity or her reputation. As for her feelings, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt her. But obviously, she is better off without me. You know you can’t argue with that.”
“Unless you truly care for her.” Caroline cocked her head and regarded him with a searching expression. “Even rakes can reform if they fail in love.”
Christian laughed. “Love? There’s no such thing.”
Caroline smiled smugly. “Of course there is. Someday you will be smitten. And then you can suffer and weep as the lady of your dreams treads upon your heart.”
“It’ll never happen.” Christian shook his head emphatically. He had his pride after all. He wasn’t about to grovel before any woman.
Devon cleared his throat. “We still haven’t reached a solution regarding Miss Cassell.” His hazel eyes met Christian’s. “If you have taken liberties with her, you should at least write her a note of apology.”
“Yes,” Caroline agreed. “That’s the least you can do.”
Christian nodded glumly. He owed Merissa that.
~ ~ ~
“Merissa, wake up! A messenger has just brought a letter!”
Merissa dragged herself to a sitting position and moaned. What was Elizabeth going on about? A letter?
Expectation suddenly swept through her. A letter? From Christian? Breathlessly, she fumbled for her spectacles on the nightstand. Why would Christian write her? Unless...
Her mood plummeted. A letter. Cold and impersonal and formal. He was writing to say good-bye. It been a pleasure seducing you, Miss Cassell, but I’ve urgent business to attend to in London and must be away. As the bitter words sounded in her head, she pressed her lips tightly together to quell a sob.
Elizabeth entered the room, eyes wide and alarmed as she held out a letter. “Merissa, you must open it. I’m afraid to.”
Puzzled, Merissa got out of bed, and reached for the packet. It was clearly posted from London. “London? But who...”
“Charles.” Elizabeth’s voice quavered and her whole face seemed to crumple. “I know it’s from Charles.”
“But maybe it’s good news,” Merissa said. “Maybe he’s found a position there and is writing us to let us know he’s all right.”
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said dubiously.
The look on her face sent a chill through Merissa. Why was her sister so distraught?
With shaking fingers she broke the wafer. She felt the blood drain from her face and an icy chill settle in her stomach as she scanned Charles’ messy, near illegible writing. Desperate circumstances... utterly done up.... debtor’s prison... need your help...
“Merissa, please! What does he say?”
Merissa felt her heart start to pound. She couldn’t let Elizabeth read this. Never.
She folded the parchment over. “He... he’s in trouble. He needs money.”
Elizabeth gasped. “I knew it. I had this feeling when I saw the messenger. Oh, we have to go to Papa with this. He has to know.”
“No!’ Merissa all but shouted. “We can’t tell Papa. We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because... because he’s overwhelmed with guilt over Charles leaving already. Because there’s nothing he can do. He doesn’t have the kind of money that Charles needs.”
Elizabeth’s mouth worked. “How much?” she whispered.
“It doesn’t matter.” Merissa sat down on the bed. Charles was in debt for an astounding twenty thousand pounds. A fortune. Likely more than her father had earned in his whole life. Of course, Charles knew they didn’t have that kind of money. All he was asking for was twenty or so pounds so he could pay off the interest and keep from “going down the hatches,” as he put it.
Twenty pounds was still a goodly sum. And she knew very well that even if they could scrape together the money, it would be futile to send it to Charles. It would only pay the interest on the sum he owed and stave off the inevitable for a short while. In a few months, or less, he would be in dire straits once more.
She clutched the letter in her hands, thinking furiously. She had to think of a means to settle Charles’ debt completely, so he could return to Whytcliff and be safe. But who had that sort of money? How could she possibly...
An image flashed into her mind. Of Lady Diana standing naked before Christian, offering herself. If Merissa had not interrupted them and they had coupled, would Christian have paid Diana?
Probably not. Lady Diana was obviously already rich. But men did pay women for that sort of thing. Merissa had heard it whispered about. Even in Derlingham there was a woman who was said to sell sexual favors for money. Francine Hammond, of all people, had told Merissa about the woman, tittering all the while. It was a few years ago, before Merissa grew tired of Francine’s insipidity and began to avoid her.
At the time, Merissa had thought the idea very odd. But now, having experienced carnal pleasure herself, it did not seem so incomprehensible that someone would set a price upon such ecstasy.
She stood abruptly, afraid Elizabeth would notice her flaming face. “I’m thinking,” she said. “If you could leave me alone for a time, perhaps I can contrive a plan.”
Elizabeth nodded and sniffed loudly. “I knew something was wrong. I knew it. When I saw the messenger at the door, my heart seemed to fall to the ground. Oh, dear Charles, we have to help him! I don’t care what he’s done! I don’t care that people say he’s shamed us! I love him and miss him so!”
Elizabeth began to cry, and Merissa went and gathered her into her arms. It seemed strange to be comforting her older sister. Elizabeth had always been the one who cared for her. But Elizabeth wasn’t really capable of dealing with the situation they faced. Her soul was too tender and pure to comprehend the harsh realities of life. Although Merissa was five years younger, she knew that she was much more aware of people’s true natures than Elizabeth would ever be.
This time it was up to her to be strong, Merissa thought as she held her weeping sister. She had to find a way out of this disaster. For all of them.
Nine
There was a brisk edge to the air as Merissa turned the team up the drive to Darton Park. She shivered beneath her wrap and considered that spring was so often like this—warm and promising one day, cold and unforgiving the next. But not all the chill inside her came from the air. Some of it was from the pure terror pulsing through her veins. How could she do this? How could she dare?
She gripped the reins more tightly in her gloved fingers and fought for composure. There was no other way. This was the only solution she could think of. The only hope of saving Charles.
As she neared the huge house, the multitude of mullioned windows gl
inted in the gray light. Such wealth, such luxury. It seemed wicked for anyone to live like this when there were poor unfortunates in the world. But the Northrups weren’t heartless monsters, Merissa reminded herself. They were warm, gracious people. She’d heard they gave generously to charity, took good care of the cotters who worked their lands, and treated their servants with consideration and respect.
It was other members of the titled classes who had earned the reputation for idleness, waste, and depravity. Men like Christian Faraday.
Merissa sighed. She had come here to attempt to take advantage of Christian’s poor character. To use his weakness to save her brother. But would he agree to her proposition? That was the question.
She doubted he would refuse out of moral compunction, but less sure he might not reject her out of simple disinterest. He’d already had his pleasure of her. Why should he be tempted to pay for what tattered remnants of her virtue remained?
She swallowed hard as a footman came to hold the reins so she could alight. Here she was, on the verge of throwing her pride to the winds and offering herself up for Christian Faraday’s casual amusement. It was a terrifying endeavor, and yet, if she succeeded, it would be worth it. Charles would come back to Whytcliff, and life would return to normal. Her father would stop agonizing over the past and perhaps come to enjoy life again. Elizabeth could marry Richard and live happily ever after. And Charles—well, Charles would have to find some steady sort of living. Perhaps go back to Cambridge and pursue his studies responsibly this time.
And her? Why, she would take her sister’s place and look after father. She could never marry. No decent man would have her after this. She’d never been certain she wanted to be married anyway. The idea of being at some man’s beck and call did not appeal to her. Richard might love Elizabeth dearly, but once they were wed, he would expect her to defer to him in all things. That might be acceptable for Elizabeth, but Merissa knew she’d never be able to endure such an arrangement.
She sighed as she climbed the steps to the mansion. It was bad enough that she would have to appear coy and vapid to carry off her current endeavor successfully—to flatter Christian’s ego and appear agreeable and meek so he would desire her. She might be able to manage it for one night, considering what was at stake, but she could not continue such a charade indefinitely.
Earl of Scandal (London Lords) Page 10
