A Scandalous Vow (Scandalous Series Book 7)

by Ava Stone

  “You are exasperating.” Heavens, it was hot in here all of a sudden.

  “And you are tempting me beyond all reason in that dress.” A genuine smile spread across his face. “Now what was it you meant about a not so friendly kiss, Caroline? I am finding it quite difficult to focus on anything else.”

  Well, she had opened that door. So she mustered up her courage a bit. What was the most shocking thing she could say? Something to level the field between them as he always said something so shocking she couldn’t think straight. “I’ve decided that you’re right, Marc.”

  “About what exactly?”

  She tipped back her head to meet his gaze straight on. “Well, it is hardly fair that I’ve seen you without a stitch, but you haven’t seen me.”

  Apparently, that was shocking enough. Marc’s blue eyes rounded in complete surprise. And that was quite a heady experience as she’d never seen that exact expression on his face before. Caroline quite enjoyed it.

  “I think we should rectify that, for the good of our friendship, of course. Things should be fair, don’t you agree?”

  He coughed slightly as though to compose himself and then his eyes narrowed on her. “Are you playing some sort of game?”

  Game? Blast it! She wasn’t any good at this at all. He’d always said such scandalous things to her. She’d thought that was how she should respond. But, apparently, she’d been wrong if the frown on his face was any indication. She didn’t want to look at that frown, so her gaze dropped to his cravat. “If you’re not interested—”

  “For the love of God, Caroline, I’m interested.” He tipped her chin back up with his hand. “I think I’ve been more than clear about that for quite some time, but…Well, do you want to leave right now? I can be ten minutes behind you.”

  Thank heavens she hadn’t made a complete fool out of herself. Caroline took a steadying sigh. “Well, I can’t leave yet, Marc. I’m in the middle of something right now.”

  He nodded most eagerly. “Yes, in the middle of driving me to distraction.”

  No, in the middle of dealing with Lord Peasemore, but she wasn’t at liberty to discuss that situation openly.

  “Do you think you can say something like that and then expect me to behave like a proper gentleman the rest of the night?” He shook his head as though the idea was absurd.

  Caroline hadn’t thought of it like that. And she supposed Juliet and Felicity could handle Peasemore on their own, at least for now. “But we haven’t even had our waltz,” she teased.

  “My dear, I will waltz with you across your bedchamber to your heart’s content. With clothes or without. Entirely your choice.”

  Heavens! Was she really about to do this? Yes, she definitely was. Caroline nodded quickly. “Ten minutes behind me?” That would give her enough time to get things settled and prepare herself to receive him in her set of rooms.

  “I’ll come in through the servant’s entrance,” he whispered, but then he frowned abruptly. “But look angry with me now. Like we’ve quarreled about something. That should keep anyone from speculating about our sudden absences.”

  Look angry with him? She had years of practice of doing that. Caroline stepped away from Marc and scowled as though he’d just been offensive, which should be easy enough for anyone to believe. “And I will thank you to keep your distance, my lord,” she said loudly enough for those around them to hear. Then she tossed her head back regally and started directly for the exit.

  She was good. Better than some trained actresses. Marc watched her go, the swish of her scarlet skirts, and he didn’t even try to hide the groan that escaped him. Damn it all, he had no idea what had come over her, what would entice her to make such an offer this evening, but he wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass him by. If he did, he might never get the chance again.

  But now people were looking at him, so he schooled his features to an expression of sheer boredom and sighed as he pulled out his pocket watch. Nine minutes and counting. They were sure to be the longest nine minutes and twenty-seven seconds of his life.

  Luke made a direct path for Marc, his brow furrowed in concern. “What did you do now?” his friend asked.

  “I’m not even sure.” Marc released a beleaguered sigh.

  “Well, you clearly did something.”

  Luke’s reaction was perfect. No one would think a thing about his exit now, and not even her own family would suspect that he was on his way to Caroline’s bedchamber. “On my honor, Beckford, I complimented her dress.” Marc shook his head in feigned annoyance. “One day I think perhaps there’s something between us… and then the next…” He sighed again. “I’m not sure if the two of us will ever be of the same mind. Excuse me, will you?”

  And then he started for the exit. He was less than ten minutes behind Caroline, but there was no reason to stand around the Clayworth’s ballroom now. Besides, it wouldn’t do for him to take his carriage anyway. Best to walk from Hertford Street to Curzon, keeping to the shadows. He’d be less conspicuous that way.

  “Ah, Haversham,” Brendan Reese, the Earl of Clayworth stepped in Marc’s path. “I hadn’t realized you were here this evening.”

  Marc actually liked Clayworth, despite the man’s decency. But he wasn’t going to allow the earl to delay him even for a moment. After all, Marc had waited—rather impatiently—for entirely too long to make love to Caroline, and Clayworth was in his immediate path. “Yes, but I’m afraid I’m not in a social mood, after all,” he said curtly. “Please pass on my felicitations to your wife.” And then he navigated around the earl and started immediately from ballroom.

  Marc made his way down the corridor, around a myriad of other guests, but he didn’t stop to speak to any of them. He breezed out the front door and down the stoop, hoping no one noticed the particular spring in his step, until…

  Damn it all. Of all the obnoxious, irritating gnats in the world. Bloody Blackaby, on the opposite side of the street, tipped his cap in Marc’s direction. That damned, idiotic Runner.

  Sticking to the shadows all the way to Staveley House wasn’t going to work with that blasted detective on his tail. He’d have to hail a hack, give the Runner the slip and double back. With any luck, he’d be exactly ten minutes behind Caroline. If he was even a minute longer than that, he was going to strangle Blackaby with his own hands.

  Chapter 12

  Caroline might very well have lost her mind, but she couldn’t be bothered to contemplate that. She had too many other thoughts. Should she change into her nightrail before Marc arrived? Or should she let him unbutton her out of her dress as he’d suggested? She thought she might prefer the latter, especially after he’d put that thought in her mind.

  Her coach stopped in front of Staveley House and she bounded up the steps and directly into her home. She grinned like a fool at Simmons as he shut the door behind her. “Please make certain the servants’ entrance is unlocked, Simmons.”

  “Unlocked, milady?” Her borrowed butler frowned at her.

  But she didn’t need to explain herself to him or anyone else. “Yes, please,” she said, and started for the staircase.

  Caroline breezed past Emma’s room, but stopped in the corridor when she spotted Nelson, her son’s beagle, sitting at attention in front of Rachel’s door. That was odd. The dog had been moping in Adam’s room ever since they’d arrived in London without him.

  “Nelson,” she whispered to the dog. “Go somewhere else.”

  He barked in defiance.

  Oh! For heaven’s sake! He was going to wake Rachel. The rotten dog! What in the world was wrong with him? “Nelson!” she hissed.

  Nelson began whimpering and pawing at Rachel’s door. It would have to be Rachel’s door. Emma slept like the dead, but Rachel did not.

  Fine. He wanted to sleep with Rachel tonight. He might wake her up if Caroline let him into her room, but he was sure to wake her, whining, barking, and pawing at her door if she didn’t let him in. So Caroline turned the hand
le and let the incessant beast into her daughter’s room, praying he’d stop making noise once he got what he wanted.

  But, of course, he did the complete opposite of that. Nelson burst into Rachel’s chambers and barked up a veritable storm. Damn that dog! Caroline followed him into the room, trying to wrangle him before he could wake her daughter, but he was a slippery little bastard.

  Nelson jumped onto Rachel’s bed, barking even louder, hopping around in a circle. And Caroline was certain her heart was going to stop when she realized her daughter was not abed.

  “Rachel!” she called, but nothing met her ears except for Nelson’s whining.

  Was that what the dog had been trying to tell her? That Rachel was gone?

  Oh good God! Where in the world was her daughter? With the moonlight streaming in through the window, it was quite clear she was nowhere in her room.

  Caroline’s heart pounded like a hammer as she raced from her daughter’s chambers, back down the steps. “Simmons!” she called. “Simmons!”

  The butler appeared in the corridor, looking quite shaken. “Yes, Lady Staveley?”

  “Rachel is not in her chambers,” Caroline began, barely understanding herself, she sounded so panicked.

  “She’s gone?” Simmons’ frown deepened.

  “She’s not in her chambers,” Caroline repeated.

  Simmons nodded. “All right. I’ll gather Nelly, milady. Not to worry, I’m sure we’ll find her.” And then he raced down the corridor to wake Rachel’s maid.

  Perhaps Nelly would know something. Perhaps…

  Caroline’s knees nearly buckled beneath her and she couldn’t keep from shaking. Oh, dear God! What could have possible happened to her daughter? That open window. The stolen journal. What if someone returned and Rachel stumbled upon them?

  Caroline grasped the railing to keep from falling to the floor. Where could her poor little girl be? Who was she with? What were they doing to her? A million horrible images flashed in her mind, and she didn’t even realize she was sobbing until Simmons reappeared before her and offered her his hand.

  “Come, milady,” he said kindly. “Come sit in the parlor. I’ll bring in some tea to help steady your nerves.”

  She took a staggering breath as she accepted the butler’s assistance. “Luke,” she breathed out. “Lucas Beckford, my brother. He’s at the Clayworths. Please send for him, and…”

  “If I may, madam,” Simmons began calmly, directing her into her white parlor. “I do believe sending for Lord Haversham might be a better choice in this regard.”

  Marc! Oh, heavens! Marc was on his way here right now. “He sh-sh-should be here any moment, actually.” She was so upset she didn’t even sound like herself.

  Simmons nodded as he helped her to a spot on the settee. “The servants’ entrance is unlocked,” he said as he led her to the settee. “Will you be all right while I fetch the tea?”

  Caroline wasn’t certain if she was ever going to be all right. She thought she might die herself after David, but Rachel…If something happened to Rachel, she would never survive it.

  “Or I can stay right here with you, milady,” the butler said, looking more than concerned.

  Caroline shook her head. “No. I’ll be fine, Simmons.”

  “Very well,” he said as he turned to quit the room.

  Eleven minutes and thirty-two seconds. Marc was a minute and thirty-two seconds off thanks to that damned Runner. Sometime before he died, he’d see that Blackaby paid for that. Of course, a minute and thirty-two seconds wasn’t the end of the world. He could have been much later, all things considered; but he had waited for this night for what felt like a lifetime. And he didn’t want to be even a second late, let alone a minute and thirty-two seconds. He paid the hack, and made a direct path for the mews and then back around to the servants’ entrance of Staveley House.

  As soon as Marc stepped over the threshold, he knew something was wrong. For one thing, the kitchen was fully lit, and for another, Caroline’s cook stood over the stove as though it was the middle of the day instead of the middle of the night.

  The woman looked at him as though he was a specter and then she let out an ear-piercing wail. Damn it all! The woman did have a set of lungs. And she could wake the bloody dead.

  “I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, trying to calm her over her scream.

  And at that moment Simmons, blessed Simmons, rushed into the kitchens. He took one look at Marc and gestured toward the corridor behind him. “Mrs. Bradley,” the butler said in a calming voice. “Please do get ahold of yourself. Lord Haversham is here to help her ladyship.”

  Help? That wasn’t really the word Marc would use. Entertain her, perhaps. Seduce her, most definitely. Love her…well, he’d been doing that for years. But honestly any of those were more apt than help, for God’s sakes.

  “Oh!” The cook placed her hand over her heart as though to calm herself. “Frightened me almost to death.”

  And everyone else on Curzon Street, most likely. What an excitable servant. And why the devil was she even awake at this hour?

  “Milord,” Simmons began, “Lady Staveley is in the white parlor. Do please hurry. She’s waiting for you.”

  Damn it all. Something was definitely wrong, then. Marc brushed past the excitable cook and toward his former butler. “What is it, Simmons?” he asked as he neared the man.

  “It’s Miss Benton, sir. She seems to have gone missing.”

  “Missing?” Marc echoed, hoping he’d heard the servant incorrectly.

  At Simmons’ nod, Marc bolted from the kitchens and navigated his way to Caroline’s parlor. The usually brave lady was shaking on her settee and looked more devastated than he’d ever seen her.

  “What happened?” he breathed out.

  Her gaze flashed up to his and then she started sobbing. “Rachel’s gone, Marc.”

  He rushed to her side and took her hands in his. “Oh, my darling,” he soothed. “I’ll find her. I swear it.”

  She lifted her tear stained face up to his, and the sight nearly broke his heart. “I think someone took her.”

  That wouldn’t have been Marc’s first guess. Generally when a girl Rachel Benton’s age disappeared, she left on her own accord. “Who would take her?”

  She shrugged and her shoulders sagged forward. “Someone broke into the study some days ago and…they took David’s journal. And now I think they came back. And if Rachel stumbled upon whoever it was…”

  He didn’t think it was exactly the best time to mention that he already knew about the break-in or the theft. “Why do you think they came back?”

  Caroline shrugged. “What else could it be?”

  Well, Galloway wasn’t in the business of abducting sixteen-year-old girls, not generally. Marc supposed it wasn’t out of the question that the spymaster could be responsible, but had something like that transpired, Simmons would have taken care of the situation. Odds were, the girl wouldn’t have gone silently, had that been the case. No, Caroline’s thief theory didn’t hold much water. “You don’t think it’s more likely she’s run off to meet some young man?”

  As though that thought hadn’t occurred to her at all, Caroline blinked up at him. “Oh, good heavens! Today she went to the museum with Lord Ambelcotte. She said it was to see his sisters, but what if she was lying to me and…”

  Marc shook his head again. “Not Ambelcotte. He was at Clayworth’s just now. Don’t you remember seeing him?”

  “I don’t know what I remember.” She scrubbed a hand down her face.

  Simmons cleared his throat from the threshold. “Nelly says Miss Benton’s nightrail was shoved under the counterpane, and a dark frock and cloak are missing.”

  So Rachel Benton left of her own accord. “Had someone come in, Caroline, they wouldn’t have made her change clothes, not without giving her time to alert Simmons or someone else to her plight.”

  Caroline swallowed. “So she’s run off?” Her voice cracked as sh
e said the words. “Oh my God. Why would she…”

  Marc took her hands in his and held them. He hated seeing her in so much pain. “Besides Ambelcotte, is there anyone else she’s mentioned? Even in passing?” Marc would turn Mayfair upside down and shake it until he found the girl, and once he had her in his grasp, she would never forget the experience.

  “She’s never done…”And then Caroline’s pained gazed flashed up to meet Marc’s.

  “What is it, love?”

  She shook her head. “Last year Rachel and Commander Greywood’s daughter snuck off to Covent Garden on their own.”

  “Covent Garden?” Marc echoed.

  “All these young girls are enthralled with that Covent Guard or whatever they’re calling him.”

  “The fellow with the daggers?”

  Caroline nodded. “They wanted to catch a glimpse of him, but they went during the day. I can’t imagine she’d be so foolish as to go there in the middle of the night.”

  Well, she’d foolishly gone somewhere in the middle of the night. And the Covent Guard did most of his guarding at night. It was a place to start. “I’ll scour Covent Garden.”

  He pushed off the settee, but Caroline reached for his hand. “I’m coming with you.”

  Not a chance. Marc had no idea what sort of condition Rachel would be in once he found her, if he found her at all. But the likelihood was high that Caroline wouldn’t want to see her daughter in whatever state that was. “Sweetheart, stay here in case she returns on her own. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Chapter 13

  Over two hours. Marc had been searching blasted Covent Garden for over two hours. He’d been propositioned by more than a dozen lightskirts, none of whom had seen anyone resembling Rachel’s description. He’d nearly had his pocket picked by a dirty street urchin who couldn’t be more than ten years old. And more than a few someones had cast up their accounts all across Floral Street.