“When I marry, as you know I must—she will lose all authority.” Markham looked up. “If she stays, she will be miserable.”
“So, you contrived to give her my estate to manage?”
Markham stopped breathing, and then he nodded. “You are,” he pointed out sheepishly, “in want of a marchioness…and…and I truly believe the two of you would suit. She’s a good sort once you get to know her.”
Well. The pup wasn’t trying to rid himself of the problem of a dependent sister. He was trying to secure her a utile future.
A utile future stewarding the Bromton estate.
Bromton had devastated the hopes of Lady Clarissa and her brother, who’d believed Bromton would fulfill the late marquess’s wish and make Clarissa marchioness. He’d cheated in order to transfer the estates to Markham, and he’d prepared for life as an outcast. Could he, instead, bet the whole on a woman? And not just any woman but a woman whose character had been called into question?
His signet ring flashed in the candlelight, an ominous reminder of infidelity’s cost. He snuffed out his unease. The prospect of retaining his position and power left him nearly panting with hope.
“I assume,” he smiled without mirth, “Lady Katherine will agree to your scheme.”
“God, no!” Markham exclaimed. “She’d be horrified if she knew I’d won her a groom. The last time I interfered ended in disaster.”
Wonderful. “So how, exactly, do you expect me to win her hand?”
“To start, I…I thought you could return with me to Southford.”
“…and sweep your unwilling sister right off her spinster feet?”
“Something like that.” Markham had grace enough to blush. “However, if you succeed, I swear you will never find another woman equally loyal.”
Loyal—the word ricocheted through his mind, as if spoken in a language he did not understand. He inhaled, filling his lungs. Oddly enough, the hellhounds’ howl had stopped. He’d spent months severed from his very essence while his former pride mocked at every turn; he could have wept with gratitude for the silence.
What stronger enticement could he imagine?
He slipped the miniature into his waistcoat pocket without asking Markham if it was his to keep. A shiver spiraled up his spine—fate’s blessing or a warning? Either way, he hadn’t a better option. Blood, honor, integrity…he was about to bet the highest of stakes on the most unmarriageable woman in the land.
“I do not appreciate being manipulated,” he said.
“But you will agree?” Markham asked.
“I’ll attempt to relieve you of your spinster sister—”
“Thank you,” Markham interrupted.
“On one condition. Should the anticipated nuptials fail to happen, you will take possession of Bromton.”
Markham frowned. “Why?”
“Because,” he pinned Markham with a pointed gaze, “I honor my debts.”
“Very well.” Markham nodded curtly. “But it does not signify. You will succeed.”
Would he?
I will.
He was not the heartless marquess’s son by blood, but he’d been relentlessly drilled to assume the marquess’s spirit. What he wanted, he took. And what he took became his own. And of his own, he was master.
How much of a challenge could a simple spinster be?
…
“Percival William Henry Stanley.” Katherine’s voice frayed with exasperation. She loved her brother, but his stubborn persistence? That, she could do without.
Crumpling his missive offered little solace. She abandoned her morning project’s still-damp ink and wandered past her sister Julia to lean on the window sash.
The library, which spanned the back of Southford Manor, had always been her refuge. Leather-bound treasures decorated ivory-painted shelves, and floor-to-ceiling windows framed a soothing aspect—Southford’s stately beech trees lined its wandering drive in perfect symmetry.
Atop a distant hill, she could just make out the faint outline of her mother’s Grecian folly, and just beyond the invisible ha-ha, sheep grazed in blissful, bucolic oblivion.
Of course, they were blissful. They were not wholly subject to interfering little brothers.
Her breath made a cloud on the window.
Why couldn’t Markham understand? She did not want his help. She was content to live by a line she’d read: Independence I will ever secure by contracting my wants, though I were to live on a barren heath.
She was not, of course, truly independent, but, at Southford, she was safe, at least, from further humiliation. If Markham had his way, despite all she’d relinquished, and everything she’d denied, she’d be no more protected than she’d been the night Brummell had turned his cold glare in her direction and sold her future for the price of a halfhearted chuckle.
Groaning, she pressed her face against cool glass.
“What has Markham done now?” Julia asked.
“It’s not what he’s done but what he plans to do.” Katherine turned and waved the crumpled missive. “He expects to return to Southford Friday, next.”
Julia rested on her elbows, thudding one foot against her chair. “Isn’t that good news?”
“Percy,” Katherine replied darkly, “is not coming alone.”
“Markham hates when you call him Percy… And what is so terrible about a visitor? No one ever visits.”
What is so terrible about a visitor, indeed. Katherine’s scandal had finally begun to fade. However, a stranger would rouse old speculations, resurrecting the past and putting an end to her hard-won peace.
On the other hand, how could she expect Julia to understand? Julia had been a child at the time of Katherine’s so-called scandals.
“Percy brought a friend to Southford once before,” Katherine explained. “That friend had wormed his way into our dear brother’s good graces just to get an up-close look at his infamous sister.”
The insufferable fop had sought her out as if she were a curiosity, salivating at the chance to pen her name into his roster of conquests. A penny, sir, to see the unmarriageable maiden. A half crown if you want a go.
“I don’t remember any visitors,” Julia said.
“Well, it’s been…” Three—no, four—no. Goodness, had she been out of Society five years? She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It’s been a while.”
“Katherine, you’ve smeared ink on your cheek.”
“Have I?” She opened her hand. Dark stains bled over her fingers and now, apparently, her face. Her cheeks once again grew hot. Her last batch of iron gall ink had lacked proper thickness, hadn’t it? And yet, she’d stubbornly carried on with the task of copying Royal Primer pages.
Perhaps she had not changed at all. Perhaps she was still the same willful, foolish, impulsive—
Julia appeared by her side, cloth in hand. She removed Markham’s letter from Katherine’s fingers and dabbed at the ink on Katherine’s cheek.
“Are you truly so infamous?” she asked.
Julia’s tone suggested her eighteen years had not been sufficient time for her to appreciate the difference between famous, as in widely celebrated, and infamous, as in universally condemned.
“Yes,” Katherine replied.
Julia’s gaze remained skeptical as she returned the rag and crumpled missive to the desk. “Surely other ladies have recovered from a broken betrothal.”
“Two broken betrothals, Julia.”
Though, on a fine point, the first had not been broken. That one had merely left her shattered.
“Besides,” she set aside the pain, “it’s not that simple. I recovered.” Mostly. “My reputation has not.”
“You truly cannot return to London just because some ghastly friend of the prince called you the most unmarriageable woman in the kingdom?”
“Not the kingdom,” Katherine clarified, “just England.”
Julia smiled, granting Katherine a glimpse of the woman Julia would become. With her unstained hand
, Katherine picked up Julia’s long braid and then smoothed the brown coil over her sister’s shoulder.
Not yet, she prayed.
Next year, Julia would be presented. But Julia was too free with her trust. Too open in her manner. And far too willfully certain that every day would be an improvement on the last.
In short, too much like she had been.
“Were it just for the unfortunate betrothals,” she continued, “I may have been able to quietly rusticate and then return to Society in a few years. However—and please let this be a lesson—with just one quip, Beau Brummell destroyed any hope of restoring my reputation.”
“I do not believe it,” Julia replied staunchly. “You cannot be ruined by a quip.”
“If said quip amplifies speculation already surrounding something scandalous, like a broken betrothal,”—or, say, two—“I am afraid you can be ruined by a quip.”
Julia caught her lip between her teeth.
Katherine knew that look. She knew that look only led to—
“What if,” Julia’s eyes grew wide, “this visitor changes everything—just like the princes in the fairy stories you used to tell?”
“I am long-past wishing for change.” Katherine raised her brows. “And long-past believing in fairy story princes.”
“Katherine,” Julia pleaded, “what if Markham’s friend is dashed good-looking?”
“Good heavens, Jul—”
“Shhh.” Julia put her fingers over Katherine’s lips. “What if the two of you fall madly in love, and he asks you to marry him? If you married, wouldn’t you prove the prince’s friend wrong?”
Katherine removed Julia’s hand from her mouth. “Impossible,” she said, her chest contracting. She’d been in love once. Madly. He’d died. And if the debacle with Viscount Cartwright that had followed her first love hadn’t been enough to prove she did not deserve a second chance, what would?
As for third chances, well, no one believed in those.
“Why is marriage impossible?” Julia argued. “If you were to marry, people would have to change their minds about you. The gossip would end! And if the gossip ended, you would be able to be with me in London when I make my curtsy to the queen.”
Ah. Katherine smiled halfheartedly. The conversation usually did come back to Julia. “We’ve discussed this before. I cannot be there.”
Julia folded her arms. “You could be there if you were respectably married.”
Katherine groaned. “Your logic is solid, but—”
“Oh.” Julia’s expression softened. “Your heart is still broken, isn’t it?”
“What? No. I do not have a…” She stopped. “My heart is fine.” She took a deep breath. “Even if I believed a man existed who was honorable enough to sully his reputation in a valiant attempt to clear mine…”
…And confident enough to tread where he suspects he is not the first.
…And kind enough to forgive her secrets.
She pursed her lips. Such a man did not exist.
“You were saying?” Julia prompted with a far too innocent expression.
Katherine changed tactics. “Julia, what do you think would happen if I were to show the slightest interest in this mysterious visitor?”
Julia raised her brows. “Marriage?”
“No.” She placed her hands on her hips. “Markham.”
“Markham again?”
Katherine cut Julia a look. “Like you, Markham believes all my problems will disappear with a wedding. And so, if I show the slightest interest, Markham will demand his friend’s intentions.”
“And then marriage,” Julia said.
“And then his friend will laugh.”
Julia’s brow knit. “Why would he laugh?”
“Because.” Her cheeks stained. “Just like the last visitor Markham brought home, he will be dumfounded that anyone, let alone a fellow peer, would believe he’d stoop low enough to contemplate marriage to a lady as tarnished as I am.”
Julia’s frown deepened. “Surely, you exaggerate.”
“Do you think so? Allow me to quote.” She altered her voice. “Scandal is more than gossip. Scandal is cause to question a lady’s judgment—her very worth.” A wobble snagged on the last phrase. It still hurt. Especially since she’d given Markham’s friend no encouragement.
“Markham would be insulted!” Julia exclaimed, indignant. “And then—a duel!”
“Don’t be silly,” Katherine scolded. “Markham knows better. No one risks anything—let alone their life—for a possibly ruined spinster.” Katherine steadied her breath. “But he would be offended, and a public break in friendship would likely follow—a break which would fuel speculation. Speculation that would further blacken my reputation. You would be sent to relatives, and I would have to move away.”
“Truly?” Julia breathed.
“It is not only possible,” Katherine replied, “but Markham and I considered the option last time.”
Julia’s eyes widened in horror. “We must force Markham’s friend to leave before any of that can happen,” she said. “But how?”
“A quandary, to be sure.”
Julia cocked her head and frowned. “A quandary?”
“We must work on your vocabulary, dear.”
Julia waved her hand in dismissal. “We were discussing Markham’s friend. Besides, Ian says I speak very well.”
Katherine’s protective senses snapped to attention. “Did you say Ian? Are you referring to Mr. Linton’s oldest son?”
Julia waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “We spoke while you were finishing Sunday reading lessons for the tenants’ children. He came to collect his brother—you know little Tommy, the quick one?”
“Yes.” Katherine pressed a knuckle against her lips. “Yes, I do.”
All thoughts of her own peril fled; only Julia remained.
Having Julia assist while she taught the children was supposed to instill a sense of responsibility, not place her in danger. How had she missed seeing Julia sneak away? She, of all people, should have been alert for young men who tarried after Sunday sermons.
Perhaps she wasn’t a fit influence, after all.
“Why are you frowning?” Julia smoothed her skirts. “It’s not as if I exposed my ankles to the village boys.”
“If Markham heard you talk so gaily about exposing your ankles, you’d be packed off to those distant relatives before you could say turban.”
Julia shivered. “I would not go.”
“Well then, you had better not mention your conversations with Ian Linton, either.” Katherine narrowed her eyes. “Julia, I expect the truth. Has Mr. Linton tried to become familiar in any way?”
“Pish!” Julia’s stiffened with genuine shock.
“Be careful,” she said, letting out the breath she’d unconsciously held. “Young men read more into a lady’s actions than they listen to a lady’s words.”
“I had a few conversations with the boy.” Julia sniffed. “It is not as if I met him behind the posting stable.”
“What,” Katherine emphasized the t, “do you know about meeting boys behind the posting stable?”
Julia grinned. “Not a thing. But you, apparently, are better informed.” She grabbed her book and ducked out of Katherine’s reach.
Katherine glanced heavenward. “I wasn’t going to indulge a fit of temper, Julia, even if you can be trying.”
“Yes, well, I’m trying to help. Weren’t we discussing a quandary?”
Gracious. “It’s time for you to go upstairs to your lessons.”
“Latin,” Julia spat. “The language is dead. Your quandary is far more interesting.” She glanced down at her book. Renewed excitement swam in her gaze. “I have an idea.”
Katherine shook her head. “Please, no.”
“This one, you’ll like,” Julia insisted. “If Markham’s friend’s intentions are foul—and he really is coming just to catch a glimpse of the most unmarriageable lady in England—well then, gi
ve him exactly what he wants.”
A prickling sensation skittered over Katherine’s arms. “What do you mean?”
“Put on a show that will send him running.” Julia’s eyes twinkled. “Turn yourself into the most shrewish, abhorrent spinster he’s ever seen.”
Visions of mobcaps, shrill recitations of propriety and a horrified look on the face of a foppish young gentleman stole into her mind.
“Oh, you must do it! No one could accuse you of being an unfit companion then.” Julia clapped. “Besides, just imagine how diverting it would be!”
It did sound diverting. And imaginative, impetuous, risky, and wrong.
“Let’s practice,” Julia said.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Pretend I am Markham’s friend.”
“No.”
“Not a day goes by without you telling me to practice.”
“The pianoforte, Julia. There is a difference.”
“I don’t see a difference. If one wants to improve one’s confidence and performance, one must practice.” Julia ended her sentence with an emphatic nod. “Isn’t that what you preach?”
“So, you can listen,” Katherine said drily, “on occasion.”
“I listen all the time. Now, pretend.” Julia bowed over Katherine’s hand. “Markham never told me he had an enchanting sister.”
“My goodness, Julia!”
Julia smiled brightly. “Ian says I would make a wonderful actress.”
“Well, you certainly startled me.” Katherine resolved to have a serious talk with Ian Linton. “Now. Upstairs to your lessons.” She turned Julia’s shoulders and began marching her sister toward the door.
Julia’s enthusiasm had force. A force, experience told, best resisted.
“I’ll go. Quietly. Or, in Latin, cedere,” Julia said. “If you’ll promise to consider my plan.” Julia swiveled and her voice fell to a horrified whisper. “I cannot go live with relatives I hardly know.”
Katherine blinked away a sudden sting. “I won’t let that happen.”
She hadn’t entirely fabricated the threat. She had always worried that she would tarnish Julia by association, but she’d lived quietly enough to avoid any resurrection of scandal…until now.
“So, you will consider my plan?” Julia asked.
Scandal in Spades Page 2
