How to Enjoy a Scandal

by Adrienne Basso

  She had helped him find his clothing and he donned but a few items: his shirt, breeches and boots. As they said good-bye, Gwendolyn placed a hand on Jason’s chest and stretched up, intending to kiss his cheek, but he turned his head and his lips met hers. His arms slid around her and the kiss changed from a simple farewell to the heated sensuality they could not seem to control.

  They sank to the floor and Jason rolled her face down on the carpet, then scooped her lower half onto her knees. He pressed her shoulders down, then his hands grasped her hips, holding her firmly while he entered her, then rocked back and forth inside her.

  She shivered as the heat raced through her veins, as the pleasure continued to build. Jason bent forward over her back, brushing aside her hair, kissing, biting, sucking at her neck. She could hear his heavy breathing, could see their reflection in the mirror.

  They drove themselves to a shattering completion, then slumped together as they waited for their hearts to slow, for their breathing to steady, for the blissful, peaceful aftermath to fade. Jason finally left when the dark horizon began to soften with the promise of the upcom-ing dawn, vowing to miss her dreadfully until they were once again together.

  They had made no specific plan for today, but as she soaked in her bath this morning remembering all the wicked details of their erotic episodes, Gwendolyn realized it illustrated not only the depth of her feelings for Jason, but her complete trust in him. And if she trusted him with her body, with her heart, she could certainly trust him with the truth about her uncle.

  “Lord Fairhurst is not receiving visitors this morning, Miss Ellingham,” the butler explained when he answered her knock.

  “I believe he shall make an exception in my case, Snowden,” Gwendolyn replied with a confident smile.

  “His orders were most specific.” The butler cleared his throat. “However, his lordship’s brother, Mr. Barrington, also left instructions to inform him immediately if you happened to call.”

  Gwendolyn struggled to hold back her surprise, wondering precisely how much the butler knew about Lord Fairhurst and his twin brother. She was sorely tempted to ask, but did not, knowing Snowden was too proper a servant to ever fully reveal his emotions or opinions.

  Declining the butler’s offer of refreshments, Gwendolyn paced the room impatiently as she waited for Jason.

  “I need to talk with you,” Gwendolyn announced the moment he entered the room.

  He smiled into her eyes. “I’m listening.”

  “This is serious.”

  To her relief, he nodded. Crossing to one of the cushioned chairs near the window, he sat and waved to the matching chair facing him. “Best to sit there. I doubt I can control myself if you sit beside me on the settee.”

  She did as he bid, eager to start, and finish, this conversation, but as she looked into his handsome, curious face, her nerve failed. For a long moment Gwendolyn stared across at him, considering how much to tell him, but then she caught the gleam of love shining from his eyes and her hesitation evaporated. Sinking her shoulders back against the cushions, she began to talk without reservation, telling all she knew about her uncle’s financial circumstances.

  Jason listened carefully, occasionally asking a question, once offering an observation.

  “Ah, so it was Emma who painted the portrait that hangs in the long gallery,” Jason said, when she was done.

  “You knew?”

  “I suspected, though to be honest I felt it too good to have been done by someone who lacked years of formal training.” He cocked his head to one side. “And I found it difficult to believe she would be a party to such a fraud.”

  Gwendolyn felt her mouth cur ve into a grim smile.

  “Emma was an innocent in the plot and is quite devastated at the outcome. Though it will bolster her spirits to hear your assessment of her talent. I shall tell her—”

  “My lord!” The drawing room door burst open, and one of the gardeners, wild-eyed and panicked, entered the room. “You need to come quickly. ’Tis Mr. Ardley.

  He’s hurt bad.”

  Neither Jason nor Gwendolyn bothered to inform the servant he was not addressing Lord Fairhurst. Instead, they both leapt to their feet and hurried outside.

  There was a circle of servants standing in front of the stables, a low buzz of conversation swarming around them. As Gwendolyn and Jason approached, the group parted to make room and Gwendolyn gasped loudly when she saw what they were huddled around.

  Prone on the ground was a man, his coat torn, his breeches ripped at the knee. His face was swollen almost beyond recognition, his eyes shut tight, the eyelids puffy and discolored. Dried blood surrounded his lips and stained the front of his shirt. The bruises on his puffy cheek and jaw were already starting to turn a deep shade of purple.

  With a sickening lurch of her stomach, Gwendolyn realized she would not have known it was Mr. Ardley if the gardener had not just told them.

  “My God, what has happened?” Jason asked as he hun-kered down and checked the steward’s pulse.

  “We have no idea,” the gardener replied. “Ned was mucking out the stalls when he heard the horse’s hooves clopping on the stone outside the stable. He stuck his head outside just in time to see Mr. Ardley slide off the horse. Ned called for help and we all came running.”

  Jason turned to the young stable boy. “Did you see anyone else?”

  “No. Just Mr. Ardley. He was slouched for ward, his arms around the horse’s neck. Don’t know how he managed to stay upright for so long.”

  “How indeed.” Jason shuddered. “His pulse is steady, but weak. His leg looks broken in at least two places. His arm too.”

  “The shoulder?” Gwendolyn inquired, disturbed at the odd angle it presented.

  “Dislocated,” Jason diagnosed. “And at this point, the very least of his problems.”

  Lord Fairhurst joined them. “What is happening?

  Snowden informed me there has been some sort of accident.”

  “This is hardly accidental,” Jason responded grimly.

  Gwendolyn observed Lord Fairhurst flinching as he got his first look at Ardley. “Good Lord, who is it? Do we know him?”

  “’Tis Ardley.” Jason leaned forward and whispered in his brother’s ear.

  The curious group of onlookers, Gwendolyn among them, moved back a respectful distance, but remained in the yard. It was a testament to the horror and severity of the incident that no one seemed to take particular notice that there were now two Lord Fairhursts.

  Gwendolyn dropped back farther, standing beside the steward’s horse. One of the stable lads held the exhausted animal’s reins. Gwendolyn could see the streaks of blood on the horse’s flanks. With a sickening jolt she realized they had come from Mr. Ardley.

  “We need to put splints on his legs before we try to move him into the house,” Jasper decided. He turned and addressed the nearest servant. “Find me four long boards to use as splints along with clean bandages. Then send someone to fetch the doctor. Tell him he is needed here immediately.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The man bowed low and hurried off.

  Gwendolyn shook her head in amazement. There might be two men who looked like Lord Fairhurst, but it was very apparent who was the real viscount.

  The requested supplies quickly arrived, along with a pale-faced Snowden. He tried to disperse the crowd of staff, but succeeded only in getting them to move slightly farther away. Several pretended to attend to their duties, but all were within sight, and earshot.

  Gwendolyn noted it was Jason who now directed his brother, instructing him where to grip and hold the splints in place while he quickly tied them with the long strips of linen that had been provided. They worked together in an assured, controlled manner with an econ-omy of movement that bespoke a silent communication.

  As she watched Jason’s hands move methodically over Ardley’s limbs, Gwendolyn wondered where he had obtained such expertise, for he seemed very certain of his actions.

 
“Do you know what you are doing?” she asked him, moving closer.

  “Young hellions with an inclination to neck-breaking carriage races often crash,” he replied, never lifting his eyes from his tasks. “It can take hours to find a doctor when you are on a deserted countr y road. Consequently, I’ve seen, and set, far too many broken bones in my day.”

  Jason continued with his attentions to Ardley. He checked the splints on the broken limbs, turned him gently to one side, then with a quick, expert jerk he reset the dislocated shoulder. Ardley did not move or make a sound at what Gwendolyn perceived was a most painful procedure. Her worry increased.

  “Did he say anything?” Jasper asked. “Give any information or reason as to what or why this occurred?”

  “No,” Jason replied. “He has remained unconscious since he was found. Lord only knows how long he was on his horse. If this keeps up too long, I worry that he might never again wake up.”

  Jasper frowned. “Poor man, he’s been beaten within an inch of his life.”

  “I reckon it was the highwaymen again,” one of the stable lads whispered in fear. “The same ones that attacked your carriage, my lord.”

  Jasper’s expression held a flash of surprise, and Gwendolyn realized that he was unaware of the carriage attack. “’Tis to soon to tell,” the viscount replied. “But we will not let such a brutal attack go unpunished. I intend to personally lead the investigation into this matter.”

  “It would be helpful to talk with anyone who saw Ardley before he left last yesterday,” Jason suggested. “He told me he was going to the Haslet farm in the next county to inspect some livestock. Perhaps he deviated from his route on the way there or the way back.”

  “I’ll start questioning the servants myself,” Jasper declared. “And we need to send someone out to that farm to determine if Ardley ever arrived.”

  The words swirled around in Gwendolyn’s head; the implication hit and her breath caught in her throat.

  “I need to return home at once,” she cried, turning on her heel, rushing toward the stable to get her mount.

  “Wait! Gwendolyn, what’s wrong?” Jason asked as he followed after her.

  She stopped, turned, hesitated for a heartbeat. “It’s my uncle. I believe he accompanied Mr. Ardley on his journey. And when I left the house earlier, he had not yet returned.”

  * * *

  Jason refused to allow Gwendolyn to leave without him. She chafed at the notion of having to wait, but he insisted. After a brief word with his brother and a quick stop in his room to retrieve his pistol, the pair set off.

  Nothing appeared amiss as they entered the courtyard of the Ellingham residence. There were a few servants outside, going about their daily chores in the usual manner. Inside the house, Jason and Gwendolyn found her female relations relaxing in the morning room; Aunt Mildred with her embroider y, Emma with her sketch pad and Dorothea reading a magazine.

  “No, your uncle has not yet returned from his journey,” Aunt Mildred said, in answer to Gwendolyn’s tense question. “I do wish he would hurry back. There are things we need to attend to today.” She turned her attention to her male guest with a hostess’s smile. “May I offer you some refreshment, Lord Fairhurst?”

  Jason used his charming, noncommittal smile and looked to Gwendolyn, intending to follow her lead. Now was hardly the time to divulge his true identity, yet he doubted she had the strength to continue with the masquerade.

  “This is not Lord Fairhurst, Aunt Mildred,” Gwendolyn replied in a distracted tone.

  The older woman glanced away and blinked. “Honestly, Gwendolyn, what sort of jest are you trying to play?

  I might be concerned about your uncle, but my slight distress has not addled my wits nor affected my eyesight.

  I know Lord Fairhurst when I see him.”

  Gwendolyn’s lips thinned. “This is Mr. Barrington, Lord Fairhurst’s twin brother. He arrived in Willoughby yesterday.”

  Aunt Mildred shifted in her chair, fixing her gaze on him. “Are you certain this is not Lord Fairhurst?”

  Gwendolyn huffed and rolled her eyes.

  “It is a great honor to make your acquaintance, Mrs.

  Ellingham.” Intent on rescuing Gwendolyn from further explanations, Jason stepped forward, bowing low. “’Tis said the resemblance between myself and the viscount is extraordinar y, but I like to think that I am the more handsome of the pair. Do you concur, madame?”

  Aunt Mildred giggled, then blushed. Head tilting, she considered him closely. “If pressed, I believe I would have to give you a slight advantage, sir.”

  “Intelligence as well as beauty.” Jason lifted his left eyebrow. “Now I understand how Gwendolyn possess both in abundance. ’Tis clearly a family trait.”

  Aunt Mildred’s chin wobbled as she nodded, her mouth curved in a silly smile. “May I be so bold as to ask if there is a Mrs. Barrington, sir?”

  “Alas, not as yet.” Jason grinned wickedly. “But I do have aspirations to soon achieve wedded bliss.” He turned and stared pointedly at Gwendolyn, who was anxiously gazing out the window toward the front drive, oblivious to the conversation.

  “What rubbish!” Emma exclaimed, her nose crinkling in astonishment. “You have only just met my sister.”

  “It’s true, Miss Emma,” Jason agreed pleasantly. “One look was all that I needed to know my heart.”

  Emma’s head whirled in his direction. Her pause lasted for no more than a breath. “How can you possibly know my name? I have only met Lord Fairhurst, not his twin brother.”

  Caught! Jason’s smile widened. Though she might be a female, Emma was neither slow-witted nor silly. “Gwendolyn has told me so much about you all, I feel I already know you.”

  “Odd she never mentioned you,” Dorothea said dryly, shooting him a saber-sharp glare.

  “There wasn’t time,” Gwendolyn said wearily. “I met Mr. Barrington yesterday, while visiting Moorehead Manor.”

  She moved away from the window and came to stand beside him. Jason’s heart tightened at her worried expression, but there was nothing to do at this point except wait for her uncle to return. Hopefully, unharmed.

  “It was a whirlwind romance,” Jason explained.

  “Aren’t they the very best kind?” Aunt Mildred giggled ner vously, her eyes bright with speculation. “Tell me, Gwendolyn, by any happy chance do you share Mr. Barrington’s feelings?”

  A clearly distracted Gwendolyn turned toward her aunt. “What?”

  Jason wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. “You aunt wishes to know if you hold me in deep regard.”

  “Oh, yes, of course. We are madly in love.”

  “Oh, gracious!” Aunt Mildred squealed with delight, too intent upon her pleasure at this most unexpected news to notice that her niece was hardly acting like a woman smitten. In fact, she had spoken with almost no emotion or interest in her voice. Jason admitted he might have felt slighted if he did not know of the grave worry on Gwendolyn’s mind.

  Dorothea continued eyeing him with great suspicion; Emma looked equally doubtful. He noticed the three sisters share a number of meaningful looks and prayed this unspoken communication would have a favorable result. Quickly it became clear he need not have worried. Dorothea and Emma loyally took their cues from Gwendolyn.

  If she said they had recently met and fallen instantly in love, her sisters would support it. For the time being.

  “Oh, I do wish your uncle were home,” Aunt Mildred chattered. “I know he would be most pleased to meet Mr.

  Barrington. Perhaps even have a private meeting together . . .”

  Her voice trailed off and she beamed with delight.

  “When is Uncle Fletcher due to return?” Gwendolyn asked.

  “Four hours ago,” Emma answered. “He is very late.”

  Emma sidled up to them and Jason heard her whisper to Gwendolyn. “What in the blue blazes is going on?”

  Gwendolyn shook her head. Jason shrugged his sh
oulders, placing his features under strict control. He would wait for his brother to arrive and learn what he had discovered before questioning the Ellingham sisters.

  They spent the next twenty minutes trying to make small talk, deflecting all the avid, curious questions that Emma and Dorothea tossed their way. Then his brother was announced.

  Jason was instantly glad they had already revealed he was his brother’s twin, for even armed with the knowledge, all three of the Ellingham women were near to speechless as they viewed the brothers side by side.

  Jason took advantage of the momentary diversion to question Gwendolyn’s aunt. “What can you tell us of Mr.

  Ellingham’s journey, madame?”

  Though surprised, Aunt Mildred answered readily enough. “Not much. He left on business late yesterday afternoon, due to return early this morning.” She looked from Jasper to Jason. “The resemblance truly is remarkable. If it were not for the different color coats you are wearing, I would never be able to tell you apart.”

  “A common occurrence,” Jasper responded with a tol-erant grin. “I suppose my brother has already claimed to be the better-looking twin?”

  Aunt Mildred laughed. “He has indeed, my lord. You best be careful with him around.”

  Emma boldly stepped forward. She had been staring at them both ver y closely, appraising, assessing, and Jason could tell she was not as easily convinced as her aunt as to which Lord Fairhurst she had known these past few weeks. “I wonder, my lord, if there was a reason other than purely social, for your call this morning?”

  “I fear I bring distressing news,” Jasper gravely replied.