One for the Rogue (Studies in Scandal)

by Manda Collins

  “It’s a logical idea,” he agreed. “Especially if she intended to hide it. She’d want to know precisely what it looked like without needing to remove it from its hiding place each time she wanted to see it.”

  “I don’t understand why she would have buried it, though,” Ben said. “If Sir Everard’s tale was even true.”

  Cam did, though. “Collectors are all a little mad about their finds,” he explained. “And I’ve seen them do all sorts of things to stop other collectors, or worse thieves, from making off with their most prized discoveries. As schemes go, burying it in the cliffs where she found it wasn’t all that bad. After all, she’d already found it there. Why would someone search there again?”

  “But it’s quite common to search the same place again if it yielded something important earlier,” Gemma argued.

  “Yes, but she owned that particular bit of beach,” Cam said. “She would have no fear of someone else coming onto her property to dig there. At least, no one but you.”

  That made her eyes widen. “You don’t think she buried it there for me to find, surely?” Despite the negative way she’d asked the question, it was obvious that she found the notion tempting. It must weigh on her that she’d not been left a specific quest as her fellow heiresses had been.

  “You’ll have to figure out if your fossil was, in fact, this Beauchamp Lizard,” Sophia reminded them. “So you have to find the sketches. Then you’ll know more about her motives.”

  “Agreed,” Gemma said. “You don’t happen to recall seeing anything like that in your studio, do you?”

  “Alas, I do not,” Sophia responded. “I should think you’d have the most luck in the collection, or the workroom.”

  But Gemma shook her head. “I’ve inventoried everything in both rooms and there was nothing like that. I’m afraid there’s only one place where they can be. I feel foolish for not considering it earlier.”

  “The attics?” Sophia asked.

  Gemma gave a quick nod. “I think that’s our only option now.”

  “We’ll discuss our strategy over luncheon,” Ben said, rising to his feet.

  “We wrangled an invitation as soon as we saw Serena,” Sophia explained, linking arms with her sister. “It’s too cold to go back to the vicarage without sustenance.”

  “Why do I get the feeling you pressed for that invitation so that you wouldn’t miss any gossip,” Gemma said with skepticism in her tone.

  “You are free to draw whatever conclusion you wish,” her sister returned tartly. “I get luncheon either way.”

  Walking behind the sisters, Cam glanced at his brother.

  “How’s your jaw?” Ben asked. “I may have hit you harder than I originally intended.”

  “Nice of you to say that now that the damage is done,” Cam said, his hand going to the bruise.

  But if he wanted an apology, he would be doomed to disappointment.

  “I didn’t say you didn’t deserve it,” Ben said. Though he was a vicar, he was still an elder brother with all the arrogance that came with it.

  Cam didn’t argue. But he felt Ben’s gaze on him.

  “What?”

  They’d just reached the hallway in time to see Gemma and Sophia’s skirts disappearing around the corner.

  “Why do I get the sensation that I owe you another thrashing?”

  Thinking back to his earlier discussion with Gemma, Cam reflected that he was probably owed more than a few thrashings for what they’d agreed to embark upon. But at the end of it, he had every intention of making said thrashing unnecessary. His brother could hardly fault him for touching his own wife.

  He’d simply need to convince Gemma to take on the role.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he said to Ben, adopting his most innocent air.

  “You’re such a terrible liar,” Ben said, shaking his head in disgust. “I thought we taught you better.”

  “I must admit, it never fails to amuse when my brother the vicar reminds me that he is a better liar than I am,” Cam said.

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  To Cam’s surprise, Ben stopped in front of him and looked him in the eye. “Let’s speak frankly, shall we?”

  At Cam’s nod, he continued. “I want your word that if things go too far, you’ll marry her.”

  “Of course I will.” Cam was a bit offended that there was even a question of it.

  “Do not look so put out,” Ben said. “You’re the one who told me you never wished to marry.”

  “Perhaps I’ve changed my mind,” Cam said in a grudging tone. He hadn’t had any intention of telling his brother that his revelations of the reasons for their father’s infidelity had shifted something inside of him. Whatever impediment he’d harbored that stopped him from considering happy ever after for himself was gone.

  That took Ben aback, he was perversely happy to see.

  “Have you indeed?”

  “I just said so, didn’t I?”

  Ben examined his face for a moment before, apparently, satisfied by what he saw there, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Don’t be so pleased yet,” Cam said. “I haven’t convinced Gemma to go along with it.”

  But this didn’t worry his brother in the least, it would seem.

  Grinning, he grabbed Cam in a one-armed hug. “You’re a Lisle boy, Cam,” he said with all the arrogance that statement entailed. “I have every confidence in your powers of persuasion.”

  That made one of them, Cam thought wryly.

  For now, it would have to be enough.

  Chapter 18

  Luncheon was a jolly affair, and Gemma found herself unexpectedly pleased at the fact that for once, she wasn’t the only heiress at the table without a gentleman of her own there with her.

  She also, much to her chagrin, was more concerned about how her friends felt about Cam. It wasn’t that she needed them to approve of him. They’d met him when he was here in the summer and seemed to like him well enough. But they’d not seen him as a potential match for her then. And however false she might tell herself their betrothal was, her earlier conversation with Cam—and his insistence that if there was a child she’d agree to marry him—had her considering how he would fit into her world. And, far more than her parents, her fellow heiresses were important to her.

  The thought of her parents gave her a pang of guilt over what Aunt Dahlia would make over all of this. Her insistence before she left Little Seaford that Gemma owed it to the female scholars who had come before her to use this opportunity to make her mark had been forgotten in the wake of what had happened since Sir Everard’s murder.

  But now, the memory of her beloved aunt’s warning gave her pause. No longer hungry, she pushed her plate back and took a sip of wine.

  To her discomfort, it was Cam, seated beside her, who noticed her change in mood. “Not hungry?” he asked, in a quiet voice only she could hear.

  “Just tired,” he said with a smile she knew seemed false. She’d never been very good at hiding her emotions.

  He slipped a hand beneath the table and took hers. “If you’ve changed your mind about … um … tonight,” he said, “I won’t hold it against you. It’s been a hectic week. Perhaps we should take it a bit more slowly.”

  The relief she felt was profound and it must have shown in her expression because he squeezed her hand, then let it go.

  “That would be for the best,” she said. “I don’t want it to seem like I don’t know my own mind. Because I do, but…”

  “You needn’t apologize, Gemma,” he said with a rueful smile. “I’m not an ogre.”

  The rest of the meal passed without any further chance for private conversation, and to Gemma’s surprise, when the meal was concluded, rather than staying so that he might search the attics with her, Cam excused himself.

  “I noticed that my gelding is having a bit of trouble with his right foreleg,” he said easily, “so I need to see what your stablem
aster recommends.”

  To Gemma’s further surprise—though on reflection it shouldn’t have surprised her at all—Kerr and Maitland, and even Ben, who was not known to be particularly horse mad, were at his side in seconds, offering up their own suggestions.

  “Send word if you find something useful in the attics,” Cam said with a nod. To Gemma’s disappointment, his farewell was only verbal and if she wasn’t mistaken, he had made it a point not to meet her eyes.

  Was he really so upset that she’d rescinded her invitation to her bedchamber for that evening that he’d run away?

  She stood staring at the door that had just closed behind them, dumbfounded.

  “Is there a problem?” Ivy asked, stepping up beside her.

  “Tea,” said Daphne from her other side.

  “We just had luncheon,” Gemma said, laughing despite her mood.

  “It will be dessert,” Sophia said, taking her by the hand and leading her toward the library where they’d always done their best thinking.

  * * *

  Maitland had examined the foreleg of Cam’s bay gelding, Romulus, for no more than a minute before he looked up at him in disappointment.

  “There’s nothing wrong with his foreleg at all, is there?”

  “It was a ruse,” Cam said sheepishly. “I’m sorry to deny you the torn ligament you were hoping for.”

  “Woman trouble,” said Kerr with a nod. “I surmised as much. Especially given that tête-a-tête between the two of you at the luncheon table.”

  “What have you done?” Ben asked his brother in exasperation.

  “Now, vicar, now’s not the time for recriminations,” said Maitland, clapping Ben on the shoulder. “It’s obvious to anyone with eyes that the fellow is in love.”

  Cam felt color rise in his face. To his relief, Kerr spoke before he had to. “Don’t put him on the spot. What this calls for is a pint.”

  “Too cold to walk,” Maitland said with a shiver.

  “Then isn’t it convenient we’re in a stable with more than a few carriages in it?” the marquess asked drolly.

  “Come on,” he told Cam and the others. “The sooner we get to the village, the sooner we can warm up and solve all of young Lord Cameron’s romantic troubles in the process.”

  * * *

  Having removed her slippers and tucked her feet beneath her in her favorite library chair, a cup of tea warming her hands, Gemma felt some of the tension that had threatened to overwhelm her earlier dissipate.

  “It’s good to be together again like this,” she said aloud as she took in the sight of her sister and Ivy and Daphne similarly disposed in chairs of their own.

  “Do you wish to talk about what it is that’s bothering you?” asked Ivy gently. “I promise you whatever you say will not go farther than this room.”

  Before she could stop herself, Gemma looked at Sophia.

  Her sister shook her head. “I know you think that I tell Ben everything, but if you tell me something in confidence, I keep it. I give you my word. You are my oldest friend, Gemma. As well as my sister.”

  Gemma felt a pang of shame at even questioning Sophia’s loyalty. But that was an indication of just how much this business with Sir Everard and Cam and the Lizard had overset her. “Of course,” she said. “I just don’t know what to think. Of myself as much as anyone else.”

  “Has Lord Cameron done something to make you doubt yourself?” Ivy asked gently.

  “Not as such,” Gemma said with a sigh. “Not intentionally, I mean.”

  “How then?” Daphne asked.

  “I just never considered before—not seriously at any rate—the idea that I would ever marry,” Gemma said. “Indeed, I promised Aunt Dahlia that I wouldn’t. So that I wouldn’t squander the opportunity that being selected to come here has given me.”

  Three sets of eyes stared at her.

  “Do you think that we’ve squandered our opportunities?” Sophia asked, aghast. “That by marrying we’ve thrown away what Lady Celeste gave us? Does Aunt Dahlia think that of me?”

  “Of course I don’t think that,” Gemma said, frustrated that she’d worded her concern so badly. “Of course, you’ve all chosen husbands who will support you in your studies. But even you must admit that gentlemen like that are a rarity.”

  “Has Lord Cameron done something that makes you think he wouldn’t be as supportive as our husbands?” Ivy asked.

  “No, nothing like that,” Gemma said with a shake of her head. “If anything, he’s been as eager as I am to find the stolen fossil.”

  “Then what is it?” Sophia asked, gently. “Has he pressed you for more than you’re willing to give him?”

  It took a moment for her to get her sister’s meaning but when she did, Gemma shook her head. “No! Not at all. If anything I’ve been more … that is to say…”

  “Of course you have,” Daphne said with a nod that seemed almost proud. “You’re a healthy woman of childbearing years with an interest in a handsome man.”

  Gemma hid her laugh behind a cough. “Yes, well, it’s nothing about Cam’s behavior that worries me. It’s more my own fear of disappointing Aunt Dahlia, and I suppose myself, that is of concern.”

  “You can’t make such an important decision as who to love,” Sophia said, “or even whether or not to marry, based on anyone’s opinion but your own.”

  “But this is Aunt Dahlia, Soph,” Gemma protested. “She is the one who took me to see my first collection of fossils. Who saw to it that our governesses had more than a passing knowledge of geology. Without her guidance I would never have considered it possible I could study fossils, much less make it my primary focus in life.”

  “Dearest,” Sophia said with a sympathetic smile, “you must understand that however much you might wish to please Aunt Dahlia, she would never wish you to give up something you truly wanted just to please her. And, though I love and respect her, I think it’s unfair that she put such a burden on you.”

  It was a relief to hear what she’d even feared to think to herself said aloud.

  “I don’t want to disappoint her,” she said softly. “And though I do think I’ve grown very fond of Cam, how do I know if choosing to marry him will not do precisely what she thinks and keep me from making a place for myself in geology?”

  “Have you tried asking him whether he would support your work?” Ivy asked thoughtfully. “Because it seems to me that some frank discussion between the two of you might set your mind to rest. Or at the very least let you know whether to continue with the betrothal.”

  “That would seem to be a sensible thing to do, wouldn’t it?” Gemma asked wryly.

  “Whatever you decide,” Sophia said, “you must do it for you. Not for Aunt Dahlia. Not for me and Ben. Not for Lady Celeste. This is your life. If nothing else, Lady Celeste’s bequest gave us each the independence needed to make decisions for ourselves.”

  Gemma nodded. “Thank you,” she said with a smile. “All of you.”

  Suddenly she felt much less anxiety about all of it. She still had work to do, and a difficult conversation to have with Cam, but at least she knew now that her decision was her own.

  * * *

  The tavern in Little Seaford was not particularly busy at this hour of the day, and the Lisle brothers, accompanied by Kerr and Maitland, were soon seated in the taproom with tankards of ale before them while the icy wind whistled against the windows.

  “So, young Cam,” said Maitland after a generous swig of ale, “tell Uncle Maitland all about it.”

  Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Cam reminded himself that he’d asked them for their help. Even so, he thought, seeing Kerr and Ben exchange gleeful looks, it was at a cost.

  “I want to know,” he said, deciding to just come right out with it, “how to go about reassuring Gemma that marrying me won’t mean she has to give up her ambitions as a geologist.”

  Maitland frowned. “I should imagine you just tell her,” the duke said with a shrug. />
  Cam sighed. “I thought perhaps, since the duchess seems to have kept up with her mathematics since your marriage that you might have some suggestions. Or perhaps you would, Kerr. I believe Lady Kerr is a classicist?”

  Before Kerr could respond, Maitland guffawed. “If you think Daphne’s maths work is anywhere in my purview, old man, then you know very little of marriage. Or Daphne.”

  When Cam turned to Kerr, the marquess gave him a sheepish grin. “Our wives have minds of their own, and we knew that when we married them. I don’t know about Maitland, but it was understood that Ivy would continue to pursue her work.”

  Maitland nodded.

  Benedick, who had been silent so far, added, “Sophia was afraid that her painting would affect my ability to move up in the church hierarchy. It took some persuading to prove to her that I cared more for her than becoming a bishop. But I did manage it.”

  Cam took a swallow of ale.

  “If you don’t mind my saying so,” Kerr said with a twist of his lips, “perhaps it’s not just marriage that’s what frightens Gemma, but marriage to another fossil-hunter. The three of us are not in competition with our wives.”

  That was something that hadn’t occurred to Cam. Which was foolish since it was what had caused their very first disagreement. He, a fellow geologist, had rejected her geology paper for his journal.

  “Can it really be that simple?” he asked with a shake of his head. “She’s just afraid I’ll try to eclipse her?”

  “You must admit,” Ben said, “it’s not easy for ladies in any area that’s dominated by men to make a name for themselves. Perhaps she’s afraid that marrying you will bring her under suspicion from the rest of the collecting world who might suggest she was trying to climb up the ladder by marrying someone on a higher rung, so to speak.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” Cam said, angry at the idea anyone would think such a thing.

  “It’s how the world works,” Kerr said. “Like it or not, marriages are made every day for more mercenary reasons than professional acclaim.”

  “I suppose so,” he admitted, thinking of Sir Everard’s, and even Paley’s, speculation about the Beauchamp fortune and how much Gemma was worth.