Ripe for Scandal

by Isobel Carr

  The lie still didn’t come easy, didn’t feel natural. The word son didn’t fall off his tongue with any grace at all. Damn Souttar for putting him in this position.

  Devere sucked in one cheek and nodded thoughtfully. “Your nephew, eh? Still covering for Souttar no matter the cost? You’re a damn fool, and I’m guessing there’s a story there I’m better off being ignorant of.”

  Gareth nodded, cursing himself for making such a clumsy slip of the tongue. “There is, and it’s best left alone.”

  “So, even if this Granby person did want revenge, why would he take your bastard?”

  “That’s what I’d like to know,” Gareth said. “And what I’m hoping The League can help me find out. If I don’t get Jamie back, I’m fairly certain Beau won’t be coming back to me. Ever. It’s a haphazard family, but it’s mine. And it’s all I’ve got.”

  CHAPTER 40

  Get your hand off my bridle, Boaz,” Beau said, leaving the threat of recriminations open and vague. He knew better than to stand in her way.

  Her footman-cum-groom adjusted his grip on Gunpowder’s bridle. “I can’t let you go, my lady.”

  “Because Mr. Sandison ordered you to keep me here?”

  Boaz frowned. “I don’t work for your husband, but your father would have my hide if I let you ride out like this. And he’d be right to do so.”

  Gunpowder minced nervously, and Beau forced herself to relax the reins. “Then come with me to Dover where we can catch the mail or hire a carriage of our own.”

  His grip slackened. “You’ll not ride off while I’m saddling Cloud?”

  “Not if you’re quick,” Beau said. “And wake John. He can pony our mounts back to the Hall.”

  A few minutes later, Boaz and a sleepy John were both mounted beside her. Beau nodded to them, and Gunpowder shot out of the yard.

  The first hint of dawn was just coloring the sky as they left the drive and turned their horses west toward Dover. They passed several boys taking their flocks out and sprang past a slow-moving dray loaded down with barrels.

  When they reached Dover, Beau handed Gunpowder’s reins to John and her portmanteau to Boaz. She fished in her pocket for her purse.

  “Wait here,” she said. “I think we’ve beaten the first packet from France, so there should be seats of some kind left.”

  After a short conversation with the clerk, Beau managed to secure the last two seats on the mail coach. She waved Boaz over. “They’re on the roof, but it’s all that’s available.”

  “It’s more than eighteen hours to London. You’ll freeze, my lady.”

  “Nonsense, Boaz. My habit is kerseymere, and I’m wearing my fur-lined redingote. I’ll be every bit as warm as you or the driver.”

  Her footman shook his head and boosted her up onto the roof of the mail coach. He tossed up her bag and climbed up behind her. Boaz sat down beside her, brow puckered with consternation, clearly uncomfortable with the arrangements.

  “It’s not fitting, my lady.”

  Beau didn’t answer.

  “What if you fall and break your neck?”

  “You’ll have the satisfaction of telling everyone you warned me.”

  The coachman bellowed a warning, and they rolled into motion. Beau held tightly to the small railing that encircled the seats. Boaz hunched down beside her, glowering.

  By the time they arrived in London, she was frozen, exhausted, starving, and her temper was more than a little frayed. Boaz swung her down and steadied her as she fought to get the blood flowing in her legs again.

  They transferred to a hackney, and Beau suffered a moment of indecision when asked for their destination. Her parents were home in Scotland. She hadn’t the slightest idea where Gareth’s rooms were, or if he even still had them. Which left her with only her brother’s house in Chapel Street.

  She gave the driver the direction and scrambled into the dilapidated carriage. It creaked and bounced the entire way, but it got her there all the same. While Boaz paid the driver, Beau ran up the steps and knocked.

  The familiar face of her brother’s long-time butler greeted her when the door opened. “Sampson! It’s so very good to see you.” She stepped inside and began pulling off her gloves. “Is my brother or Lady Leonidas home?”

  “Of course, my lady. Come into the drawing room and warm up while I inform her ladyship that you’ve arrived.”

  There was a cheerful fire in the hearth, and Beau stood as close as she could without catching her skirt on fire. She stepped back with a curse when the scent of singed wool caught her attention. She brushed a hand over her skirt, checking for scorch marks. She was still looking when her sister-in-law came running in.

  “Beau?” Viola rushed forward to embrace her. “You’re cold as ice. Are you hungry? Of course you are. How on earth did you get here?” Viola rattled off one question after another, giving Beau no time to answer any of them. Viola’s mastiff pranced excitedly around them, nearly knocking Beau over.

  “Yes, hello, Pen,” Beau said, fending off the dog with both hands.

  Leo came in right behind them. Unlike his wife, Leo didn’t say a word. And unlike the dog, he didn’t appear to be happy to see her. He just stared at her, arms crossed, an angry frown marring his face.

  “Have you seen Gareth?” Beau said, playing with the mastiff’s ears now that it had calmed down.

  “Yes,” Leo said flatly.

  “And you still don’t believe him. Don’t believe me.” Beau circled the room, trying to work off the urge to hit him. Pen whined in confusion, and Viola called her over.

  “Leo, I’ve been called a lot of unpleasant things in my life, but liar isn’t amongst them. Why would I start now? And about this?”

  When her brother didn’t respond, Beau growled in frustration and flung up her hands. “Do you want the ugly, unadulterated truth? I seduced Gareth, not the other way round. I did it. Me. And I did it knowingly.”

  Leo drew a sharp breath, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. Behind her, her sister-in-law mumbled something that sounded like I told you so.

  “Gareth would have brought me safely home, and I knew it. I also knew I was ruined. So I made a choice. A conscious, deliberate, selfish choice.” She punctuated each word with another jab to his chest. “I chose my reputation over Gareth’s. I sacrificed him in order to save myself. You said last year that maybe you should have left me to Granby. You as good as warned me not to get myself into another scrape.”

  Leo looked green. The frown was gone, replaced by a wide, horrified gaze. “That’s not what I meant.”

  “Wasn’t it?” Beau said, refusing to let him off the hook. “Well, I did find myself in another scrape, so I got myself out. It was me. All of it. If anyone was the victim, it was Gareth. And he’s been paying the price for rescuing me ever since.”

  “Perhaps,” Leo said. “But there’s also a chance he’s not the hero you make him out to be. That you’re the victim, whether it was you who did the seducing or not.”

  Beau raised a brow in disbelief. “You’re not making sense, Leo.”

  “If Sandison already had a wife, then his marrying you would be unforgivable.”

  Beau caught her lips between her teeth and shook her head. “Don’t be absurd.”

  “We got a letter asserting just that,” Viola said, breaking into the conversation. “It said he was already married. That the boy his brother brought was his legitimate son.”

  “Souttar said the boy’s mother was dead.” Beau felt suddenly sick. She shook the sensation off. “That her family had dumped the boy on them afterward.”

  “She may well be dead, now,” Leo said grimly. “If so, the question is when did she die? Before or after he married you?”

  “No,” Beau ground out. “The question is whether or not your mysterious correspondent is lying. And if it’s who I think it is, then this is just another attempt to cause trouble.”

  “Granby?” Leo said.

  “I assume Gareth already trie
d to tell you this?”

  Leo nodded. “He did. It sounded as far-fetched then as it does now.”

  “More far-fetched than your best friend having a secret wife and purposefully ruining your sister? Quit being an ass, brother. Granby showed up at Morton Hall with Mr. Nowlin—my most recent abductor, the one you don’t believe exists—in tow. They tried to take me again, but I fell over the cliff fighting them off. They did take Jamie, however.”

  “And you want the boy back?” Leo said.

  Beau nodded. She couldn’t help it. He was hers now, every bit as much as Gareth. She didn’t think that she could face life at Morton Hall without him.

  “No matter the cost or scandal?”

  “What does it matter anymore?” Beau said. “Either I’m married to a bigamist and I’m ruined, or this is all part of Granby’s grand scheme of revenge. My reputation is a house of cards, and it’s going to come tumbling down one way or another. But before it’s all settled, I intend to have Jamie back and see Granby dead.”

  CHAPTER 41

  A knock at the outer door of Gareth’s suite of rooms in Old Bond Street was immediately followed by the sound of the door swinging open. Gareth let the ends of the neckcloth that he was tying flutter loose. He stepped out of his bedroom and into the small front room that served as drawing room, office, and dining room to find Devere, who he’d known was there, bowing over Beau’s hand, while Leo leaned against the mantelpiece.

  “Beau?” Gareth’s pulse leapt at the sight of her. He glanced around the room. Leo shrugged and indicated with his chin that the visit was entirely Beau’s doing.

  “Were you already married when you married me?” Beau said.

  The room spun, nothing but his wife’s concerned face remaining steady. Gareth tried to formulate a response, but the words wouldn’t come.

  “Because someone thinks you were,” Vaughn said. “Furthermore, they’re purporting that your supposed bastard is, in fact, legitimate, and that his mother is still alive.”

  “Which is ridiculous,” Beau said, her voice begging him to refute the charges. “No one is that stupid.”

  The word damn rebounded through his head like a drumbeat, getting louder with every beat of his heart. Devere glanced heavenward and gave him an exasperated look. Betray his brother or his wife. That was the choice he was left with, and it really wasn’t a choice at all.

  “No one except, perhaps, Souttar,” Gareth said. The statement filled the room until it felt as though the walls were straining to contain it and might fly apart at any moment.

  Gareth watched Beau’s face as the truth sank in. There was a flash of anger that quickly settled into an expression of sheer hurt that left her eyes looking bruised.

  “Souttar? And you didn’t tell me?”

  “It wasn’t my secret to tell. And it’s not just about Souttar. His wife—”

  “Which one?” Vaughn said with a hint of a drawl. “He seems to have a surfeit.”

  “Stop helping!” Gareth glared at him, only to be struck by the sudden wicked glint in his eyes. “You would choose such a moment to forgive me, damn you.”

  “If Jamie’s mother is alive, Lady Souttar is ruined.” Beau put her hand over her mouth, as though the words frightened her.

  “You didn’t care when it was you,” her brother said, his tone verging on exasperation. “Can’t you be happy it’s someone else for a change?”

  “No, I can’t.” Beau rounded on her brother. “It’s monstrous. I know Olivia. We made our curtsies to the queen together, shared our first season. And if Souttar was—is—married to Jamie’s mother, then Jamie is the heir to an earldom. And you”—she turned back toward Gareth—“were going to help take that away from him.”

  Gareth held up his hand placatingly. “It was for the greater good.”

  “Not Jamie’s greater good,” Beau said, face flushed with anger.

  “You can’t have it both ways, Beau,” Gareth replied, stating the bald, ugly truth. “Someone had to lose. I had to weigh Jamie’s birthright against my family’s good name and your friend’s reputation.”

  Beau nodded, but the set of her jaw was still mutinous. “Granby thinks Jamie is yours and that I’m the one who’ll be ruined if the truth comes out.”

  “So he’s probably out looking for Jamie’s mother, or proof of Jamie’s legitimacy, as we speak,” Devere said.

  “Then we’d best be doing the same,” Vaughn said, sounding as if he was relishing the idea. “Following the same trail is the best way to find Granby and the boy.”

  Beau sat at Gareth’s desk and combed out her hair. It was a tangled mess from her roof-top journey. When she was done, she plaited it and twisted the end several times around her finger so the curl would hold the plait.

  “Any idea where to start looking?” she said.

  Gareth shook his head. “Nothing more specific than Scotland. I was thinking of attempting to trick my brother into helping.”

  “How so?” She got up and joined him by the fire. He held the toasting fork out to her, and she plucked the piece of toasted bread and melted cheese off with her fingers.

  “Well.” He settled down beside her on the floor and began toasting another bit of bread and cheese. “If Souttar thinks he’s about to be exposed, he might just help us get to the information first so we can cover it up.”

  “Or he might attempt to do so himself.”

  “Souttar being a great deal easier to find and follow than Granby.”

  Beau nodded and blew on the hot cheese before taking a bite. “So you’re going to put the fear of God into your brother?”

  “Well, the fear of our father finding out what he’s done at any rate. I’m fairly certain Souttar is far more afraid of the earl than he is of any member of the Holy Trinity.” Gareth flicked his queue back over his shoulder as he leaned closer to the fire.

  Beau swallowed the last of her cheese toast and reached for her wine. “Is this really how bachelors live? On toasted bread and wine?”

  “And the occasional meat pie.”

  “Or cup of blue ruin,” Beau said with a teasing smile.

  “Have you ever had gin?”

  Beau shook her head. “No, but I should like to try it.”

  “No, you wouldn’t, brat,” Gareth said with a laugh. “It tastes like rotting fruit and half the stuff out there will make you go blind.”

  “Then I’ll stick with arrack.” She took another sip of wine. “Leo mostly ate at his clubs when he wasn’t dining with the family. Don’t a lot of men do that?”

  “Those who can afford clubs, yes. But I can hardly take you there for supper.”

  “You could take me to The Red Lion,” Beau said.

  “No, I really couldn’t.”

  Beau stuck her lower lip out in an exaggerated show of faux petulance. He looked horrified at the very idea, cementing her desire to go. She accepted another cheese toast and blew on it.

  “I can’t stop worrying about Jamie,” she said, staring down at the bubbling cheese, suddenly not hungry in the slightest.

  “I know, love,” Gareth said, eyes soft and sympathetic. “But Granby took him for a reason. He’ll take care of him until we get him back.”

  “I keep telling myself the same thing, but I have a hard time believing it.”

  “Money or power. That’s what it comes down to. Either he’ll want money, in which case we’ll manage it, or he’ll want to control us—which I think far more likely, given his previous behavior. And if that’s the case, we turn his demands against him.”

  “You make it sound simple.”

  “It is simple. There are two options. We win, or we lose. And I don’t intend to lose.”

  CHAPTER 42

  Four days later, they were rolling up the long drive of the Earl of Roxwell’s seat. Beau took a deep breath, held it, and let it go slowly. Gareth was dozing beside her, long legs angled across the interior of the coach, feet propped up on the opposite seat.

  “Gareth?�
�� she said. He opened his eyes, dark brows slanting down. “What if Souttar—or Jamie’s mother—wants Jamie back?”

  “Souttar? Don’t be daft. And if his mother wanted him, she wouldn’t have foisted him on Souttar in the first place.” He shut his eyes again.

  “But what if he does? Or what if she changes her mind when she figures out that Jamie’s going to be an earl?”

  Gareth sighed but didn’t bother to open his eyes. “There isn’t the smallest chance that my brother will want anything to do with Jamie, regardless of how this all turns out, and there’s even less of a chance of my father allowing some cutler’s daughter anywhere near his heir.”

  “So you think Lord Roxwell might claim him.”

  “You mean if Jamie really is Souttar’s heir?” Gareth turned his head and looked at her. “My father’s reaction is likely to be unpredictable under those circumstances. You’re correct on that count. But I find it doubtful that the earl will want to be saddled with the living evidence of Souttar’s folly and will be content to be guardian in name only.”

  Beau tucked herself into his side and dropped her head back onto his shoulder. “Good.”

  Gareth gave her a reassuring squeeze as the coach stopped. “Ready?”

  Beau nodded but found herself staring open-mouthed at the house. It was plain. Severe. An enormous three-story box, the front entrance centered and set back, flanked on either side by a column of epic proportion.

  “You grew up here?” A cold shudder ran down her spine.

  Gareth’s mouth quirked into a smile. “It’s every bit as charming on the inside,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ll see in a moment.” He put a hand at the small of her back and urged her forward. “Father’s inordinately proud of the place, so pretend your horror is awe.”

  The door opened, and the butler’s face practically shimmered as he restrained his smile. “Master Gareth, were we expecting you?”

  “No, Bradfield, my wife and I are on our way to visit her parents in Scotland, and I wanted to show her the old place. Mrs. Sandison, this is Bradfield. Best butler in all of Britain. I’d steal him from the earl if Morton Hall wasn’t entirely beneath his dignity.”