Scandalous Brides

by Annette Blair

  Prudence tried once more. “Please, Nessa, listen to me. There are some gentlemen you simply must not encourage—most particularly if you do not intend to marry right away. Some are mere fortune hunters, but a few of them would be only too eager to ruin you. That Mr. Galloway, with whom you played whist, may be one. But by far the most dangerous must be—”

  The butler entered just then, as though to complete Prudence's sentence by announcing the very name she'd been about to utter. “Lord Foxhaven,” he intoned.

  ~ ~ ~

  JACK WAS IN EXCEPTIONALLY fine spirits today. Though Lady Creamcroft had rebuffed him at every turn last night, her sister had not. In fact, she had rather obviously enjoyed his attentiveness, granting him one more dance (though not a waltz) near the end of the evening. He felt certain that he would have her securely betrothed to him well within the month he had set as his goal. Perhaps even within the week.

  In this optimistic frame of mind, he presented himself at the Creamcroft Town house promptly at eleven o'clock, the earliest acceptable hour for callers. After Lady Haughton's success last night, he did not deceive himself into believing he would be her only suitor, but he intended to be the first.

  “I bid you good day, ladies,” he said jovially as soon as he was announced. Advancing into Lady Creamcroft's pristine drawing room, he bowed first over his hostess' hand, ignoring her chilly response, and then over Lady Haughton's.

  Deliberately, he brushed one gloved finger across her wrist, where it lay bare between glove and sleeve, as he lifted her hand to his lips. While he did not—quite—kiss her hand, he brought it a full inch closer to his lips than the prescribed custom. A slight widening of her eyes showed him that she noticed—and did not necessarily disapprove.

  Lady Creamcroft's throat-clearing indicated that she also had noticed, and quite definitely disapproved. “How nice to see you again so soon, my lord,” she said, her tone conveying exactly the opposite.

  “I could not bear to stay away.” Some devil of mischief prompted Jack to accompany his broad smile with a wink. He was rewarded by seeing Lady Creamcroft stiffen until he could almost see her quills. He wouldn't have believed such a young, pretty thing could be so starched up.

  “We are most flattered, are we not, Prudence?” responded Lady Haughton, as her sister was clearly incapable of speech at the moment. Lady Creamcroft gave a single, frigid nod.

  “Pray do not reduce to flattery words that are the simple truth, my lady.” Seating himself near his object, Jack turned the full force of his charm—which numerous ladies had led him to believe was considerable—upon her. “Lovely as you were last night, I find you even more so in the light of day, and free of distracting adornments.”

  “My adornments were excessive then, my lord?” she asked with a smile. Yes, she was definitely learning to flirt.

  “I said no such thing, of course. Did I not already pay tribute to the effect you achieved? Such loveliness as yours, however, shines the brighter with less to conceal it.”

  She pinkened slightly, clearly taking his meaning. “I… I see, my lord.” Her confusion told him that while she might enjoy pretending to sophistication, she had not yet achieved it—which was all to the good.

  Lady Creamcroft now found her tongue again, just as her sister appeared to have momentarily lost hers. “Lord Foxhaven,” she said severely, “I must ask you not to trifle with my sister. She is unused to the ways of Society—particularly the more… unrestrained ones.”

  “Trifle?” Jack placed one hand melodramatically upon his chest. “You wound me, Madam! I would not dream of trifling with Lady Haughton, I assure you. I give you my word that my intentions toward your sister are entirely honorable.”

  “Oh.” Lady Creamcroft blinked, clearly surprised, but only slightly mollified. “I… I am very glad to hear that, of course, my lord.”

  He inclined his head in a half-bow he hoped did not imply any mockery. After all, he could not claim that Lady Creamcroft's suspicions were unjustified, given what his life had been up to this point.

  Turning back to Lady Haughton, he found her watching him with an expression he could not decipher. A trace of alarm, certainly, but also something else—disappointment? But no, that made no sense.

  “I trust the thought of me as a serious suitor is not distasteful, my lady?”

  Her small smile did seem somewhat forced. “I am honored, of course, my lord, if a bit surprised. I had not thought you the serious sort, I must confess.”

  Yes, his campaign was progressing nicely, no doubt about it. “Then I must endeavor to alter your perception of me.”

  ~ ~ ~

  NESSA, HOWEVER, did not wish her perception altered. Honorable intentions? Lord Foxhaven had honorable intentions toward her? That could only mean he intended to make her an offer of marriage—not at all what she wanted from him! She had hoped he might help her to enjoy her new freedom, but now it appeared he wished to curtail it instead, just as Prudence did.

  The butler reentered the drawing room just then, to announce the arrival of Sir Hadley Leverton and his sister.

  Lord Foxhaven rose. “Before I take my leave, might I persuade you to come driving with me in the Park this afternoon, Lady Haughton?”

  Perhaps, Nessa thought hopefully, he had only said that “honorable” bit to appease Prudence. Her spirits recovering, she nodded. “Why, thank you, my lord. I should enjoy that.”

  Bowing first to her, then to the clearly suspicious Prudence, he took his leave, greeting the newcomers on his way out.

  Though she smiled and said all that was proper, Nessa scarcely attended to Sir Hadley's greeting, or to the introduction of his sister, Miss Amanda Leverton. She had danced twice with Sir Hadley last night, after Prudence had arranged an introduction. Nessa found him handsome enough, and he was not so many years older than herself, but his conversation was decidedly dull.

  “How very kind of you, Sir Hadley, to acquaint your sister with mine. She has so few friends in London, as yet, that every suitable acquaintance must be welcome.” Prudence gave Nessa a meaningful glance as she spoke, to reinforce that Sir Hadley and his sister met her exacting standards for approval.

  Sir Hadley bowed formally. “I assure you, Lady Creamcroft, that Amanda was most eager to make Lady Haughton's acquaintance after hearing all that I said in her praise. I myself come prepared again to admire, and to make myself agreeable.”

  Prudence smiled benignly.

  Nessa, however, felt as if she were being driven toward the altar like a hapless beast to the slaughter. But she would not go tamely. Not this time!

  “Sir Hadley tells me you are but recently come to Town, Lady Haughton.” Miss Leverton, an angular young woman with an unfortunately long nose, seated herself on Nessa's left. Her brother took the spot so recently vacated by Lord Foxhaven, on her other side. “I know how overwhelming it must be to one who has spent so little time in Society. I should like to offer my assistance in helping you to fit in. I'm really quite good at that, am I not, Sir Hadley?”

  “She is indeed,” agreed her brother. “I daresay Amanda was almost singlehandedly responsible for Miss Henderson's rise to popularity, and subsequent betrothal to Lord Durkle.”

  Miss Leverton nodded. “Mrs. Henderson was ever so grateful to me, for it was a far better match than she had expected for her daughter. Not that Miss Henderson is so very plain, you understand. She simply needed polish.”

  So this was why Prudence was encouraging this acquaintance! She must be hoping that the talented Miss Leverton might smooth away Nessa's own rough edges.

  “And you were able to provide that polish, I presume.” Nessa shot an accusatory glare at Prudence, who had the grace to look vaguely embarrassed.

  “She was indeed.” Sir Hadley was quick to praise his sister's accomplishment. “Nor is Miss Henderson—soon to be Lady Durkle—the only young lady Amanda has so benefited.”

  A shame the young lady could not similarly benefit herself, thought Nessa sourly. �
�Quite the philanthropist, I perceive.” She did not take great pains to disguise the sarcasm in her voice, but the Levertons appeared not to notice. That Prudence did was evidenced by a quick, cautionary shake of her head.

  Luckily for them all, other callers were announced at that juncture, allowing for a natural turn in the conversation.

  ~ ~ ~

  JACK RETURNED TO Foxhaven House well satisfied with the progress of his campaign to acquire Lady Haughton for the benefit of his reputation. She was by no means immune to his charm, of that he was certain. Perhaps a leisurely courtship would be possible after all. If a stick-in-the-mud like Sir Hadley Leverton was willing to introduce his sister to Lady Haughton, her respectability must still be intact, colorful wardrobe or no.

  “A gentleman awaits you in the library,” his butler informed him as Jack cheerfully divested himself of hat and cloak.

  “Lord Peter Northrup?” He'd heard some new on dit, no doubt, that he felt Jack should know about.

  “No, milord, a Mr. Woolsey. He arrived a quarter of an hour ago and insisted on staying. He says his business is urgent.”

  Jack raised an eyebrow, intrigued. The name tickled at his memory, but he could not place it. “Thank you, Crump, er, Culp.”

  When he entered the library, a tall, thin man rose to greet him. Jack thought he looked vaguely familiar, but did not fully recognize him until he spoke.

  “I give you good day, Lord Foxhaven,” he said, bowing. “I have been sent with a message from the War Office.”

  “Good to see you again, Woolsey,” Jack greeted the senior clerk, one known for his self-importance. “How goes the peace process?”

  Mr. Woolsey produced a grimace that might possibly have been a smile, along with a sealed letter. “It progresses on various fronts. This message will no doubt tell you whatever it is you have need to know.”

  Jack glanced at the envelope and his eyebrows rose at the sight of the Duke of Wellington's seal. “No doubt it will. I presume I may send any response to Whitehall?”

  Mr. Woolsey sniffed. “You'll not wish to keep his Grace waiting. I am willing to remain while you compose it, my lord.”

  “This instant?” Jack was incredulous. “Surely it can't be as urgent as all that, now we're at peace. I'm a busy man now, you know, with estates to consider.” He no longer had to jump at Wellington's command—or anyone else's. The knowledge gave him a perverse delight.

  Unwilling respect colored Mr. Woolsey's response, pleasing him further. “Of… of course, my lord. You may send your response to Whitehall.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Woolsey. I'll be in touch.”

  Jack waited until the man was gone to break the seal on the Duke's letter. Its contents were brief and to the point.

  Recently appointed to the post of ambassador to Louis XVIII's court, Wellington had reason to believe certain factions intended his removal, not only from Paris but from life. Given that climate, he wished to surround himself with a few people he could trust. In particular, he felt that Major Ashecroft's experience as an unorthodox but clever strategist, combined with his other distinctive abilities, would be of great benefit in exposing any plots before they came to fruition. He was therefore “invited” to join his former commander at the royal court in Paris.

  Jack perused the letter again, thoughtfully. He had no doubt that there were many in France who would count it quite a coup to dispose of the great Duke of Wellington who had so embarrassed Napoleon's forces. He was surely in far greater danger than he implied in writing, for Wellington was no coward.

  Jack had made quite a name for himself over the course of his military career, he knew, for his ability to extract information, supplies, and other, more personal favors, from sources of all ranks and nationalities. Wellington plainly thought those particular abilities could be put to good use in Paris just now. Just as plainly, the Iron Duke had not yet heard of Jack's succession to his title.

  A post in Paris, working again under Wellington—the only man other than his grandfather whose respect had ever mattered to him. The idea appealed to Jack, on various levels. But it would be the death of any chance of fulfilling his grandfather's dying wish. Once back amid the licentious atmosphere there, he had no doubt that he would give way to temptation in short order, making his previous excesses seem tame by comparison. His character—and reputation—would be fixed, as the most debauched Lord Foxhaven England had ever known.

  Unless…

  Unless he married first, and brought his bride along. Surely Lady Haughton would be proof against the temptations of Paris. With a respectable wife, he might strike a blow for England and still keep his resolution to honor his grandfather's wishes. It was the only way.

  So a leisurely courtship was out after all. This very afternoon he would attempt to obtain Lady Haughton's promise. And the moment he had her secure—by this evening, no doubt—he would send his response to the Iron Duke.

  ~ ~ ~

  LADY HAUGHTON did not keep him waiting above two minutes, which Jack took as an excellent sign. That she apologized for such a brief delay augured even better.

  “I left my muff upstairs,” she explained as she joined him and Lady Creamcroft downstairs, “and Prudence reminded me that I'd be chilly without it—at least in an open carriage. Is yours?”

  “It is indeed.” Endeavoring to hide his amusement, he indicated his high perch phaeton through the drawing room window. For a moment he thought Lady Haughton would clap her hands, but she merely clasped them tightly together instead.

  “How famous! I've never ridden in such a conveyance in my life. Shall we go?”

  A chuckle escaped him despite his efforts, so childlike was her delight. “Very well, my lady. Lady Creamcroft, your servant.” He bowed to the wooden-faced Prudence and escorted her lively young sister from the house.

  Jack assisted Lady Haughton up the short ladder into the phaeton. “I fear your sister does not entirely approve of me,” he commented, once they were out of earshot.

  “Oh, pray do not mind Prudence.” She settled herself into the seat, then looked over the edge as if to judge the distance to the ground. “She truly believes she is looking out for my best interests.” The face she turned back to him showed no trace of alarm at the height of the carriage.

  Jack smiled his approval. More worldly ladies than she had exhibited substantial nervousness at being suspended nearly six feet above the street. “You are fortunate to have someone to watch over you so carefully.” He whipped up the horses.

  “Yes, I suppose so,” she replied with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. Her face brightened again as the pair of bays broke into a brisk trot. “Are these carriages as dangerous as Prudence says?”

  “Only in the hands of an inept driver,” Jack assured her, though she seemed to need no such reassurance. The smile she sent his way in response nearly took his breath away. He realized again how very lovely she was. “A diamond of the first water,” Peter had said. By Jove, the man was right.

  It was no more than three blocks from Upper Brook Street to the Grosvenor gate of Hyde Park. Only moments later they turned in to join the throng already assembled along the paths to enjoy the fine October day. Jack had already decided that this would be the proper moment to launch the next stage of his campaign—achieving a first-name acquaintanceship.

  “That deep shade of green particularly becomes you, Lady Haughton… or may I call you Agnes?”

  To his surprise, she laughed at him. “Not if you wish me to answer, my lord.” Her eyes danced merrily, so she could not be offended. “I've always detested that name. Family and friends call me Nessa,” she explained. “You may do so as well.”

  Only as the feeling subsided did Jack realize how dismayed he'd been for a moment, thinking she had rebuffed him. Now he grinned in relief. “And you may call me Jack. I, too, prefer a nickname to my given one.”

  She inclined her head playfully. “Very well then, Jack. The name suits you, I think.”

  “And Ness
a, you. I confess I'd had difficulty thinking of you as an 'Agnes.'“

  “I'm relieved to hear it!” she replied, and they laughed together, drawing stares from two nearby carriages and a few pedestrians.

  As he had with so many of the gambles he'd taken throughout his career, Jack decided to hazard everything upon a single throw.

  “Lady Haughton—Nessa. I enjoy your company as much as that of any woman I've ever known. In fact, I believe we deal remarkably well together. It is my wish that we might always do so.”

  Her eyes widened to astonished pools of liquid brown, but she did not pretend to misunderstand him. “I had hoped, when you implied such an intention this morning, that 'twas merely to mollify Prudence, but I see now it was not so. I must apologize, Jack, if I have in any way led you to believe I expected such a declaration.”

  Jack felt the first stirrings of misgiving, though he took her continued use of his name as a hopeful sign. “This is entirely my own inclination, I assure you, Nessa.” He transferred the reins to one hand so that he could take hers with the other. “I wish you to become my wife. Will you?”

  Gently but firmly, she extricated her hand from his clasp. “I'm most honored, of course, but I fear my answer must be no. I have no intention of marrying again, ever, no matter how much I might like a man.”

  As stunned as though she had dumped cold water upon his head, Jack nearly let the reins go slack, before the sidling of his spirited horses recalled him. Bringing them quickly under control, he turned back to this most startling woman. “You are certain?”

  She nodded. “I am absolutely resolved, and have been so for some time. I'm sorry, Jack.”

  SEVEN

  NESSA WATCHED the rapid play of emotions across Jack's face with some concern. Was it possible that he actually cared enough for her to be wounded by her refusal? It seemed highly unlikely. More reasonable was the theory that he needed her wealth, though Prudence had implied he was quite well set-up financially.