A Scandalous Bargain

by Burke, Darcy

Beatrix waved her back down. “That isn’t necessary. I can go by myself.”

  “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should. I’ll accompany you. Stupid Society rules and all that.”

  Beatrix arched a brow at her. “Do you really think my father or my half brother is going to stand on stupid ceremony now that their bastard daughter and half sister has reappeared?”

  “Perhaps not, but you should still present yourself to your best ability.”

  Dammit, Selina wasn’t wrong. But Beatrix wanted to do this for herself. She needed to. Frankly, if it went poorly, she wasn’t sure she could handle Selina being there. Wait, was she actually considering it wouldn’t go well?

  Anxiety pulsed through her. She forced herself to relax, rolling her shoulders and taking a deep breath. “I appreciate you wanting to support me, but I think I need to go alone. If you accompanied me, my father may not let down his guard.”

  “And that’s what you want?”

  “I want my father back,” she said softly. The man who’d read her stories and watched her play with warmth and delight, who’d taught her to ride a pony when she was eight, and who’d listened to her strum a harp quite badly when she was nine.

  The man who’d sent her to a boarding school and never communicated with her again.

  All the old justifications came back: he was too grief-stricken to see Beatrix, he hadn’t just turned her out, so he obviously cared about her, he was educating her so that she’d make him proud.

  So why did it take you so long to seek him out?

  Because she meant to make him proud.

  Beatrix looked back to Selina. “I’ve changed my mind. You should come with me. You’re right that it’s the expected thing to do. However, I may ask if I can speak with him alone.”

  “Of course.” Selina stood, smiling. She took Beatrix’s hand and gave her fingers a squeeze. “I’ll be ready as quickly as possible. Did you order the coach?”

  “I’d forgotten we have one now.” It belonged to Harry and had been moved to the Cavendish Square mews. “I’ll do that posthaste.”

  Selina nodded before dashing from the room.

  A short while later, the coach conveyed them into Grosvenor Square. It was strange for Beatrix to arrive in this manner instead of creeping into Tom’s garden under cover of darkness.

  “I meant to ask you about last night,” Selina said. “You disappeared for a while. Was that when you were speaking with Lord Worth?”

  Beatrix knew she was referring to her time with Tom, not Worth, because she’d overheard her talking to Rafe. She considered telling Selina about Tom, but what would be the point? There was nothing between them. Her gaze drifted toward his house as the coach came to a stop in front of the Duke of Ramsgate’s residence. Was Tom inside? What was he doing?

  “Yes, that must have been the case,” Beatrix said, answering Selina’s question.

  The coachman helped Selina and Beatrix down from the coach. Selina glanced over at Beatrix. “You say Worth will be here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you trust that he arranged this appointment and we aren’t walking into some sort of trap?” It was Selina’s nature to be skeptical, which was to be expected after a lifetime of having no one but herself—and Beatrix—to rely upon. She didn’t trust anyone but Beatrix. Or hadn’t until she’d met Harry. And Beatrix supposed she’d probably begun to trust her brother again.

  “I do, actually.” Beatrix realized that made her sound naïve. “I have a good feeling about him.”

  “I’ll let you know if I feel differently,” Selina said with a wry smile.

  Despite her anxiety, Beatrix laughed softly. “Of course you will, and I expect nothing less.”

  They walked up the steps to the door. Beatrix cast another look at Tom’s house to her right, as if she could catch a glimpse of him.

  The door opened to reveal a stiff, heavy-lidded butler. “You are Miss Whitford?” His lips pressed into a judgmental line as he looked between Selina and Beatrix.

  “I am Lady Gresham,” Selina said with a chilly air. “This is Miss Whitford. We are here to see the duke.”

  “Yes.” The butler opened the door wider and wordlessly invited them inside. At least, Beatrix thought it was an invitation.

  The entry hall marble gleamed, and the gilt-framed paintings sparkled. A large bust sat atop a small table against the right wall. Large because the head was bigger than a normal human head, which made the sculpture look rather terrifying.

  “This way,” the butler said, leading them through the entry hall to another hall in which the staircase was the focal point. The lower half of the stairs was split in two. The butler led them to the right side, which met the left side on a wide landing before continuing up in a single staircase.

  On the first floor, he turned to the right and showed them into a large drawing room decorated with several elegant seating areas and enough paintings and sculptures to make it look like a museum. “His Grace will be with you soon.”

  The butler turned and departed. Beatrix strolled around the room while Selina stood in the center. The windows looked over Grosvenor Square below.

  “Good afternoon, Beatrix.” Jamie strolled into the drawing room, his gaze settling on Selina while his brow furrowed.

  “Good afternoon, Jamie,” Beatrix said, moving to stand with Selina. “Allow me to present Lady Gresham.”

  “Ah yes, your…sister.”

  “After her father abandoned her, she needed someone to care for her,” Selina said coolly.

  Jamie inclined his head. “She’s lucky to have found you.”

  “Where is the duke?” Selina asked, looking expectantly toward the door Jamie had just used.

  “He’ll be along momentarily. He was, ah, he would have preferred more notice before this interview.” Jamie faced Selina. “He wasn’t expecting anyone other than Beatrix.”

  Selina pursed her lips. “Surely he would understand that Beatrix requires a chaperone, even to visit her father. Especially so, since no one is aware the duke is her sire.”

  Beatrix wanted to cheer Selina’s staunch support and utterly aloof demeanor. “Jamie, I asked Selina to accompany me.”

  “Would you mind if she waited downstairs for you? Father would prefer to conduct this meeting privately.”

  Selina opened her mouth, certainly to protest, but Beatrix touched her arm. She’d planned to see him alone anyway. “That’s fine.” She leaned close to Selina. “It will be all right.”

  “Of course it will, but your father is rude.” Selina spoke in a lower tone, but not so quietly that Jamie couldn’t hear what she said.

  “The butler will show you down,” Jamie said.

  Turning to Beatrix, Selina looked her in the eye. “This is a demonstration of power. Don’t let him maneuver you. You’re smarter than that.” Her features softened. “I’ll be right downstairs if you need me.”

  Pivoting, Selina started toward the door, pausing as she came abreast of Jamie. “Beatrix trusts you. I hope her faith is not ill-placed.” There was an edge to her tone that carried a threat—at least Beatrix recognized it as such. She wondered if Jamie did too. Probably not. He likely saw her as just a harmless a woman. He had no idea of the damage she could inflict.

  Selina continued on until she disappeared from the room.

  Beatrix was surprised to realize that Selina’s presence had provided a calming effect. Without her, Beatrix felt suddenly bare, her apprehension rising.

  “I take it he was angry that Selina accompanied me?” she asked.

  “Father has certain expectations, and he loathes surprises.”

  Wonderful. He must have been ecstatic to learn Beatrix was here at all. “I can only imagine what he thinks of my presence,” she murmured.

  Jamie grimaced, his hazel eyes clouding. “He wasn’t pleased.”

  The duke strode into the drawing room. Even though Beatrix had seen him the night before, this was different, because he looked right at
her, something he hadn’t done at the ball.

  After briefly perusing her, he went to sit in a dark blue chair with a high, rounded back and padded arms. He did not invite his children to join him.

  Jamie looked to Beatrix and inclined his head toward the seating area the duke had chosen. Situated near a large statue of what looked to be Apollo, there was a settee, a chaise, and another chair. Beatrix sat on the very edge of the settee, poised to flee if necessary. Jamie took the other chair.

  “Good afternoon,” she said tentatively. “Father.”

  His lips pursed, then frowned as he regarded her with his flat brown eyes. “I have not given you leave to call me that.”

  Beatrix couldn’t help but feel defensive. “I always called you that.” Too late, she realized she should censor herself. It was evident he didn’t want her here. This was not going at all as she’d hoped. “Don’t you remember?” she asked softly.

  “That was a very long time ago. How old are you now? You must be approaching thirty.” He said the number distastefully, as if her age were a mark against her.

  That he didn’t know it was another strike to her long-held dream. “Just twenty-six.”

  “And here you are having a Season. You’re much too old for that, but then you can’t possibly understand how these things work.”

  “I do, actually. Which is why when asked, I say I’m twenty-two. I have no trouble passing for that.” She raised her chin, daring him to disagree.

  “So you lie.”

  “I’ve had to be less than truthful about a great many things in order to get to this point. Do you tell anyone about me?” The look of horror in his eyes was all the answer she needed. “Then you lie too.”

  Jamie sat forward. “Father, you can’t deny Beatrix is your child.”

  “Of course I can, and I will.”

  It was what Beatrix had expected—she’d never truly thought he’d publicly claim her—but hearing the words, and spoken with such vehemence, was crushing.

  “One has only to look at her eyes and mine to see that we are related,” Jamie said, taking the sting from Beatrix’s devastation. At least someone was on her side.

  The duke set his elbows on the arms of the chair and steepled his hands. Looking over the tops of his fingers at them, his frown deepened. “That she is my offspring changes nothing. I do not plan to claim her. Were you expecting that, Beatrix?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “I’d hoped we could have some sort of…relationship. I miss having a family.” She stopped short of saying, I miss my father.

  “And how would that look?” He raised a sardonic brow. “If we had a…relationship, people would assume you were my mistress or my daughter. You are definitely not the former and you won’t be the latter. I have two daughters already.”

  Legitimate daughters.

  “I don’t wish to cause you pain, girl, which is why I sent you to that school. That you left early and went gallivanting about England with Miss Blackwell was your unfortunate decision.”

  Beatrix’s stomach lurched. Of course he would know Selina’s name from the school, but how would he know what they’d done after leaving?

  Jamie gripped one of the arms on his chair. “You can’t mean to just ignore her?”

  “Why not? Does she look like she’s suffering? Her supposed sister—another lie—is about to marry the son of an earl and her supposed brother—yet another lie—is apparently one of the wealthiest men in London all of a sudden.” His eyes narrowed, and the suspicion and haughtiness came off him in waves. He didn’t have to ask how Rafe had earned his money or where he came from. It was clear he thought less of Selina’s brother simply because he’d come out of nowhere.

  So because Beatrix didn’t appear to need anything from him, her father would give her nothing. Perhaps she should have shown up here ten years ago when she’d had just two gowns to her name, neither of which fit properly.

  “I had hoped that I would make you proud,” Beatrix said quietly, shaking inside as she fought to display a collected exterior.

  “Father, why not acknowledge her?” Jamie asked earnestly. “Many men do it, and it’s not as if Mother is here.”

  The duke—Beatrix wasn’t sure she could think of the man as her father anymore—turned his frosty stare on his son. “You’ve been fooled by this young woman. She is not what you think. She is a swindler and has spent the last decade leading a life of fraud.” The duke transferred his gaze to Beatrix.

  The room around her froze in horrifying detail before dissolving into a blur. She wanted to wilt beneath the harsh judgment of his words, but she sat even straighter.

  “Shall I detail everything for Jamie?” the duke asked blithely. “I’m certain he would be particularly interested in your thievery.”

  Beatrix’s insides turned to mush. At school, Beatrix had twice been caught stealing. The first time, she’d been young and relatively new to the school. Mrs. Goodwin had been kind and understanding when Beatrix had explained that she hadn’t realized what she’d done. Miss Everly, on the other hand, had threatened to tell the duke. Mrs. Goodwin had assured Beatrix that wouldn’t happen, provided she didn’t steal again.

  Only she had stolen again, and Selina had covered for her, just as she’d done that first Christmas. But then Selina had left the school and taken her protection with her. Consequently, Beatrix had been caught once more. That time, much to Miss Everly’s glee, Mrs. Goodwin said she had to inform the duke and that if Beatrix was caught stealing again, she’d be expelled.

  Since the duke had never reacted to the incident, Beatrix had wondered if Mrs. Goodwin had decided not to tell him after all. Regardless, Miss Everly had harassed Beatrix to such a horrible degree that Beatrix had begged Selina to return and fetch her. A year after leaving, Selina had done just that.

  The duke continued, “Shall I tell him all about your activities at Mrs. Goodwin’s?”

  Jamie had moved his attention to Beatrix. His eyes, so kind and welcoming before, were now shadowed with distrust. “Is that all true? You’re a fraud?”

  Yes, she’d been a swindler, a fraud, and a thief. She’d pretended as though she belonged in this world, but today, her father had reminded her in the most absolute way that she did not.

  “As a young woman alone, I’ve done what I must to survive.” She stared at him unflinchingly. “Just because I look as though I am not suffering does not mean I have not suffered.”

  The duke cleared his throat. It was as if Beatrix hadn’t even spoken. “Worth, you will forget you met this young woman and what you know of her. Be on your way now.”

  Beatrix could see that he was torn, just as she knew the duke would stop at nothing to ensure Beatrix was ignored. If he knew how she’d spent the last decade, then he knew Selina had been part of that, just as he knew they’d lied about being sisters. He couldn’t endanger Selina, not when she was finally happy.

  Now she understood why the duke hadn’t wanted Selina there. She was the leverage he needed.

  Beatrix kept herself from dissolving into defeat. She stared unblinking at Jamie, sad that they would never have a sibling relationship. “You should go. I can see this was a terrible idea.”

  Jamie slowly stood. He looked over at his father and back to Beatrix before leaving without saying a word.

  “It seems I’ve made the situation quite plain to you,” the duke said.

  “If I try to claim we share any kind of relationship, you will publicize both my background and that of my sister.”

  “Lady Gresham, yes. She is not your sister.”

  “She is more my sister than you are my father. Blood means nothing, as you’ve just demonstrated.” She stood, her legs surprisingly sturdy beneath her despite the roiling of her insides. “I do want one thing from you. My mother had a demi-parure of emerald jewels she promised would one day be mine.”

  “You want me to give you a valuable set of jewelry?” He chuckled. “Abs
olutely not.”

  She ground her teeth together. “They belong to me.”

  “If they did, you would have them.” He rose, tugging his waistcoat down over his paunch. “You do look rather like your mother. I was fond of her.”

  Fond? “You said you loved her. Many times.”

  He shrugged. “That was a long time ago. As I said, I was fond of her, and of you by extension, I suppose.”

  Beatrix stared at him. “Then she died and your…affinity just evaporated?”

  “Precisely.” He yawned. “You should be glad I sent you to school, but then you left before you were finished, so perhaps you were not. I am not inclined to reward those who aren’t grateful and who don’t apply themselves to finish what they start.”

  “So if I’d stayed at school and gone on to be a dutiful governess, you would give me my mother’s jewels?”

  “Perhaps.”

  She didn’t believe him, not that it mattered. After Selina’s disastrous experience as a governess that had resulted in her being raped by her employer, nothing could have made Beatrix take such a position.

  “You’re a heartless blackguard,” she whispered. “I’m glad my mother didn’t live to see you treat me like this.”

  He looked down his nose at her. “If your mother had lived, everything would have been different. The moment you think this life is fair is the moment you lose, my dear. Don’t be defeated. You’ve survived this long, and you should be proud of what you’ve been able to accomplish. Just as you should be careful not to ruin your fortune. And if you do, well, your mother was an excellent courtesan. I’ve no doubt you could do quite well for yourself in that endeavor.”

  Beatrix stared at him, incredulous at his audacity and crudeness. Before she could formulate a response, he’d stalked from the room. It occurred to her that she could steal from him. There were a great many things in this room that she could easily pocket.

  Only he would know she took them. Just as he would know if she stole her mother’s jewels.

  Nevertheless, she was considering it. How could she not? He was pompous, horrible, rotten, and so many other things. The demi-parure was hers. It was all she would have of her mother. She should have told him that. He’d given her nothing, and she’d never imagined that when the coach had arrived in Bath to take her to Mrs. Goodwin’s that she wouldn’t return home again.