How to Enjoy a Scandal

by Adrienne Basso

Jasper impatiently drummed his fingertips on the arm of his chair. “We must meet with him the moment he returns. I had not planned to stay at the manor for more than one night and am loath to alter my schedule. I’m most anxious to return to my wife.”

  Jason smiled at his brother’s agitation. “How is my dear sister-in-law these days?”

  “Blossoming,” Jasper replied with a smug grin.

  Jasper continued to smile. Jason, puzzled at the sly expression, tried to figure out what his brother was saying.

  “Oh, for Christ sake, she is pregnant,” Jasper muttered.

  Jason came to attention. “Already?”

  “We have been married a few months.” Jasper lifted his chin and puffed out his chest a fraction. “Though I will confess we are feeling ridiculously proud of ourselves.”

  “Aren’t you the clever pair? Mother and Father must be over the moon at the prospect of having another grandchild to love and spoil.” Jason gave his brother a sidelong glance. “Perhaps you can show up Meredith and Dardington and produce the first grandson.”

  “It is hardly my goal to outshine our sister and her husband. Though having a son to raise seems far more reasonable to me,” Jasper admitted. “But more important is that Claire be safely delivered of a child who is hale and hearty.”

  “Claire is young and strong. She will do splendidly.

  Probably better than you.”

  Jasper bowed his head in slight embarrassment. “I have been fussing quite a lot. That’s another reason I decided to journey here. Claire insisted she needed a small respite from my overprotective presence, if only for a fortnight.”

  Even though he knew Claire loved her husband dearly, Jason could understand his independent sister-in-law’s feelings. “She is probably missing you already and will certainly welcome you back with open arms.”

  “That is my fondest hope.” Jasper reached for the final sandwich on the tray. “Is there anything else I need to know before we meet with Ardley tomorrow?”

  Jason hesitated. The magistrate had determined the incident on the road was due to highwaymen, prompt-ing a more vigilant attitude toward travel from the locals.

  As for the estate business, more and more Jason had come to believe his suspicion that the forgery in the gallery was painted by Emma. But the very last thing his 282

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  tenuous relationship with Gwendolyn needed was more complications.

  “I think you are well prepared for the confrontation with Ardley,” Jason finally replied, pushing aside the momentar y sting of guilt he felt. “If we come up short, I have a few ideas on where to go next for some answers.”

  It was long after midnight when the two riders neared their destination. The hedgerow along the roadside faded from view as they slowed their horses and turned toward a small copse of evergreens. All was quiet, peaceful. Too peaceful.

  “Tell me again why we are meeting in such an isolated area at this time of night?” Fletcher asked, pulling his mount beside his companion, his legs cramping from the long ride.

  “It’s the only way to preser ve our secret,” Ardley replied. “We can hardly invite men like these to dinner.”

  Fletcher gazed skyward, catching glimpses of moonlight and stars through the green canopy of branches.

  Despite the pleasant warmth of the night, he shivered.

  He felt chilled to the bone, his confidence in their plan wanning with each mile they rode.

  “Why not meet at an inn or an alehouse?” Fletcher asked. “I, for one, would feel safer if there were witnesses about.”

  “These men would never agree to being seen in such a public place. Anonymity is the key to their success.”

  Fletcher’s brows drew together in a sharp frown. “I don’t like it.”

  “Neither do I.” Ardley’s face was tight as his eyes anxiously searched the horizon. “But we are hardly in a position to dictate any terms.”

  “Our circumstances will change once they see what we have brought them.” Fletcher patted his coat pocket, which bulged with a heavy purse of coins. “Once we have these money-lending leeches off our backs, we can settle our debt with the manor accounts.”

  “All in good time.” Ardley removed a spyglass from his breast coat pocket and held it to his eye, gazing at the horizon. “Paying off this debt will leave us with little reserve funds. It could take a long time to restore the remaining funds to the estate.”

  “But this is a most important first step.”

  “Aye. Let us hope we succeed in solving this problem.”

  Once again, Fletcher tilted his head back to stare at the night sky. He studied the tree branches that swayed and clattered overhead, trying to keep away the worry niggling at his mind.

  Soon, they heard the sound of hoof beats, followed by an abrupt curse, then silence. Fletcher held his breath, sure his rapidly beating heart could be overheard by Ardley. Suddenly, the riders came crashing through the trees, taking the two waiting men by surprise.

  Fretfully, Fletcher turned toward Ardley, taking note of the steward’s pale face and eyes, which blinked uncertainly.

  There were three mounted men facing them. They were all unfamiliar and Fletcher was relieved not to recognize any of these fellows as the man he had released from the manor’s cellar, the one who had been involved in the carriage incident.

  “Right on time,” the man in the center said as he nudged his horse forward. “That bodes well.”

  “Let’s get down to business, then,” Ardley said. “We have brought your money, Hunter. Just as you instructed.”

  “Hand it over,” Hunter replied. “I haven’t got all night.”

  With nervous fingers, Fletcher fumbled in his pocket 284

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  and withdrew the leather pouch. Hunter held out his hand expectantly, but Fletcher worried about keeping his skittish horse under control if he moved too close to the other man’s mount, so he tossed the purse with a high arc directly at the moneylender.

  Hunter caught it with his left hand. The hint of a smile that was visible in the dark vanished as he bounced it through the air, weighing it carefully in his palm. “It feels too light.”

  “It’s all there, down to the last coin!” Ardley exclaimed. “We would never be so foolish as to tr y and cheat you.”

  “I said, it feels too light,” Hunter insisted.

  “Well, then count it,” Fletcher replied, trying to add an edge of command to his voice. “As we said, ’tis all there, everything that you are owed.”

  Hunter shoved the pouch into his pocket, then coolly pulled open his coat. A pistol protruded from the waist-band of his breeches, the silver handle glittering in the moonlight. “I don’t need to count it. I know it’s light and I know there isn’t enough coin.”

  Fletcher’s vision clouded. Shaking his head, he firmly reminded himself to stay clam. Any display of fear or panic would give Hunter even more of an advantage.

  “There are over five hundred guineas in that pouch.

  Enough to clear our debt.”

  “What about the interest?”

  “That includes the interest,” Ardley sputtered.

  “Says who?” Hunter challenged.

  Fletcher stiffened his back. “Really, sir, you are being most unreasonable. If you would—”

  “Shut up. I’m not talking to you.”

  Fletcher swallowed his remaining rant, then dipped his chin and stared down at the reins clutched limply in his riding gloves. He immediately regretted his outburst, for it had drawn Hunter’s attention to him.

  “We have paid you the agreed upon sum, including interest,” Ardley insisted. “Our business is concluded.”

  Hunter’s expression sharpened, his slate-gray eyes narrowing. “Not the way I see it. There is a penalty for late penalties, and the added inconvenience of having one of my men injured and another imprisoned in the manor cellar.”

  “We released your man,” Ardley defended.

  �
��And the injur y can hardly be blamed upon us,”

  Fletcher added. “Your men attacked the wrong carriage.”

  Hunter let out a grunt, then dismounted his horse slowly. Fletcher expelled the breath he had been holding on a sigh of relief. The moneylender was not a tall man. He was fair, willowy, of indeterminate appearance and dress. Hardly a serious foe.

  “You have both cost me far more than you are worth,”

  Hunter stated calmly. “And I become a most difficult man when I am angered.”

  There was a distinct undertone of menace in his voice.

  Fletcher gulped, knowing with a sickening dread that he and Ardley had seriously underestimated their foe.

  “Name your price, Hunter,” Ardley said, the panic clearly heard by ever yone. “We will pay whatever you demand to end this once and for all.”

  There was silence. Fletcher could see Ardley twitching nervously. Yet nothing happened. Hunter remained silent and still, as though he had not heard the offer. Fletcher could feel himself beginning to quake in his boots.

  “You will never collect any more money if we are dead,” Ardley finally said.

  “There are two of you. I only need one breathing man to settle the debt. That makes one of you very expend-286

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  able.” Hunter’s eyes narrowed into lethal slits and he balanced forward on the balls of his feet, in a clearly threatening gesture. “In my experience, this type of persuasion is most effective. Miraculously, the survivor always produces the necessary funds very quickly.”

  For a moment it seemed as if Ardley’s face might crumble, but his composure held. “Let my friend go. I was the one who contracted the loan with you.”

  “Then you should be the one to settle the debt.” Casually, Hunter bent forward to withdraw a knife from its sheath in his boot cuff.

  “But I shared in the use of the money,” Fletcher blurted out, helplessly trying to protect his friend. “We carry the burden of debt equally.”

  Hunter paused to stare at their stricken faces, then threw back his head and laughed. “Maybe I will keep you both alive. For the moment. But this cannot go unpunished. You need to be taught a lesson. One that you will remember, one that others who do business with me will hear about and consider.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “No one dares to cross me.”

  “We did not try to cross you,” Fletcher said, desperately trying to hold on to some measure of calm, when he felt such a strong need to yell and scream and vent his growing frustration.

  Hunter motioned to his men. They obediently dismounted and advanced. The one moving toward Fletcher was built far differently from his boss. He was a large brute of a fellow, with a misshapen nose that had been broken several times, thick, muscled arms, and large meaty hands.

  Fletcher tried to force the bile that filled his mouth back down his throat. Like so much of his life these past few years, this meeting had been a bad idea, a foolish plan, not well thought out and certainly not well executed. Now they would suffer the consequences.

  The brute’s boots made a sharp noise as he drew closer and the gnawing anxiety in Fletcher’s belly shifted to outright panic. With one strong motion the man reached up and yanked him off his horse. Fletcher stumbled, trying valiantly to stay on his feet. He noted that Ardley had also been roughly taken off his mount, though he appeared to have no difficulty in standing.

  The ruffian raised his arm, pulling it back. Realizing what was coming, Fletcher ducked, but not in time. The blow landed square on his jaw, knocking him to the ground. The pain exploded behind his eyes, white hot and fierce. A second blow followed and as the blackness engulfed him, Fletcher felt a twinge of genuine regret for all the mistakes he had made, all the wrongs he had done.

  But foremost of his regrets, was the realization that he had been unable to fulfill the sincere promise he had made to Gwendolyn.

  Everything was very far from being set to rights.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Gwendolyn crossed to the opposite side of her bedchamber, trying to decide if she could manage the buttons down the back of her gown on her own. It was past time for bed, but she had dismissed Lucy hours ago and did not wish to call for the maid, thinking she had probably already gone to sleep. Besides, Gwendolyn preferred her solitude. The tu-multuous events of the afternoon still resounded in her head. She crossed the room, and stood near her small writing desk. The note from Jason lay partially hidden beneath an inkpot. She reached for it, intending to rip it to shreds and toss it in the unlit fireplace, but the sight of his bold, strong handwriting stirred something in her heart.

  Had she made a grave misjudgment turning away from him today? Was she being too harsh and unforgiving? Was she risking her greatest chance for happiness because of her stubborn pride? Or was Jason truly a dishonest, deceptive man?

  Dimly she heard the hall clock mournfully sound the hour. It was late; hopefully the rest of the household was asleep. But Gwendolyn doubted she would get any rest tonight.

  Occupied with her thoughts on the opposite side of the room, she did not hear the bedchamber door open.

  But she had a sudden awareness that she was no longer alone.

  “Good evening, Gwendolyn.”

  The sound of his voice gave her gooseflesh. With a sharp sigh, she turned slowly to face him, her heart thumping painfully. “How did you get in here?”

  “Emma took pity on me. She snuck me in through the kitchen and made sure the hall was clear before leading me to your room.”

  Realizing her palms were damp, Gwendolyn dried them on the skirt of her gown. She was not ready for this, not ready to face her feelings, not ready to face him.

  “Leave at once, or I shall scream. Very loudly.”

  A disarming smile lit his handsome features. “Nothing would please me more. Your screams will bring your family and the servants running and when I am found in your bedchamber, you shall be well and truly compromised.

  “The fact that I am not Lord Fairhurst will be viewed with great relief when it is revealed, for I shall naturally offer to do the right thing. Your aunt will be overjoyed, your uncle will agree to my proposal and you will be forced to marry me.”

  A rushing noise roared between her ears. “So that is your plan?”

  He shrugged. “I am a desperate man, Gwendolyn.

  “You are disgraceful!”

  He ran his finger slowly over the coverlet on her bed.

  The movement was slow and sensual. “True, I have no shame, no pride when it comes to you. I will accept you as my wife by whatever means I can. I realize this is not the optimum way to begin a life of wedded bliss. I much prefer it to be your choice.”

  A hot flush spread over Gwendolyn’s cheeks. Deep breaths, she admonished herself. She continued until she was composed enough to confront him. “I have already made my position quite clear on the matter. I will not marry you.”

  “I understand your need to punish me, but dearest, by doing so you are also punishing yourself.” He took several steps closer. “Won’t you reconsider?”

  Gwendolyn’s ears warmed with embarrassment. Perhaps the need to strike back at him was a part of her refusal, but it went far deeper. “What you did was no small matter, sir.”

  “True. Yet I had my reasons, as I tried to explain earlier. And I did attempt to tell you the truth, but you refused to listen.”

  “I know that, but as I told you before it makes no difference. There were numerous chances to reveal the truth. Good heavens, we spent an entire night and a fair portion of the morning together. Alone. You could have told me who you really were then.”

  He shot her a chiding look. “With you in my arms, in my bed, I had far more important matters clouding my mind.”

  She stared back at him, feeling deeply the hurt that was shining from her eyes. “Ever since that night I have been desperately fighting my emotions, trying to understand them so I could cast them away. And that morning!

  My God, I thought you we
re deranged, to be speaking of marriage when you already had a wife.”

  “Gwendolyn.” His hand came up to cup her cheek. “I never meant to make it so difficult. To hurt you. If I could change just one thing that I have done in my life, right just one of the many wrongs I have committed, it would be not telling you the truth that night.”

  His sincerity touched her bruised heart as astonishment took all the words from her mind. “I don’t know what to say, what to do,” she finally whispered.

  Jason languidly moved closer. “I need to know that you have forgiven me, Gwendolyn. That we can get beyond this and move forward with our lives.”

  Jason’s gaze never left hers. Gwendolyn’s mind protested vehemently, but her heart, oh, how her heart begged her to reconsider. It seemed that even against her wishes her heart wanted him, needed him.

  Everything hung on this moment. If she could well and truly forgive him then they had a real chance for a future life together. But if she could not . . .

  “How can I ever trust you?” she muttered.

  “It will take time, but I can prove to you that I deserve your trust. And your love.” His voice went soft. “Please, for both our sakes, let me try.”

  For a long moment she thought hard on his words.

  He made it sound so simple, so easy. Was that all it truly would take? All she need do was open her heart and forgive him?

  Gwendolyn leaned toward him, closing the remaining space between them, feeling all the thoughts and warn-ings and doubts warring within her mind. Rising to the tips of her toes, she kissed him on the cheek.

  Jason had his arms around her before she could move away from him. “I need much more than a maidenly kiss from you, Gwendolyn,” he said, and then he brought his mouth down hard on hers.

  It is amazing how a body’s desire can betray you, Gwendolyn thought as she melted against him, her arms twining around his neck. Desire surged through her, hot and hard and completely over whelming. She found herself remembering the feel of him inside her body, the intense emotions and connection she had experienced when they had made love.

  And now, something within him was reaching out to her. She could feel it as substantially as the sun on her face, or the wind in her hair. Jason could be hers. If she dared to truly risk her heart.