The Road to Scandal is Paved with Wicked Intentions (The May Flowers Book 6)

by Merry Farmer

  “Right,” he said, taking a step back. “If you need me, I’ll be down in the pub. Some friends have just arrived, and we’re going to talk business.” He sent her a significant look, making Phoebe wonder if they truly would be discussing business or if they were there to drink and chatter about whatever wildly inappropriate topics men discussed at a pub.

  “Thank you, Mr. Long,” Phoebe said as he turned to go.

  “My pleasure, my lady,” he said in a fine accent before rounding the corner. The sound of him whistling a bawdy tune as he headed for the stairs echoed in the hall.

  Phoebe fought the urge to laugh, but she couldn’t stop herself from blushing.

  “Really,” her mother scoffed behind her. “If that’s what we have to put up with to enjoy this flat, I’m not sure it’s worth the price.”

  “Mr. Long has been extremely generous with us, Mama,” Phoebe said, turning back to the mountain of work that needed to be done. “And he’s renting this flat to us at a greatly reduced rate.” How much of a reduced rate she had yet to determine. Whatever it was, she certainly wouldn’t discuss it with her mother.

  Her mother sniffed and sat dramatically on the sofa. “You should have married Lord Cosgrove,” she said. “Then we wouldn’t have had to stoop to this level.”

  Phoebe couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes and exchanging a look with Natalia. “I would never marry Lord Cosgrove, Mama. We are in exactly the sort of situation we need to be in.”

  Though how she would manage that situation when the rent came due was another story.

  Giving the flat to Phoebe and her mother was a stroke of genius, as far as Danny was concerned. He kept a smile on his face and a spring in his step as he headed downstairs and crossed the street to enter The Watchman. Not only was he doing a good deed by helping someone who had been cruelly shunted aside by the very people who should have stepped up to help her, he now had a beautiful, intelligent, and formidable woman living in the same building as him. A woman who had kissed like she wanted to. A woman he would be daft if he didn’t make some sort of play for.

  But there were a thousand other things pressing for Danny’s attention. He wanted Phoebe and he intended to have her, but all in good time.

  The regular Saturday evening crowd was already beginning to fill the pub as he strode in. Several of the regulars and friends of his called to him and waved in greeting as he crossed through the front room. He waved back and called out greetings to a few of them, but it was the table in the back corner that had his full attention.

  “Reese,” he shouted, deliberately louder than he should have been as he greeted his friends. “Freddy. Rupert. How is life treating you on this fine summer day?”

  The three men—all of them noblemen of considerable rank, and all of them men Danny would have given his life for—stood to shake his hand and thump him on the back in greeting. They were among the few nobs he actually liked, mostly because they were young and cut from a different cloth than the pricks that had sired them.

  “Danny. You’re looking well as usual,” Reese said, then gestured to a fourth man with them, a man Danny didn’t know. “I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Mr. John Dandie.”

  Danny put on his friendliest smile and extended a hand to the unknown man. He was tall and blond with a mien that suggested intelligence and competence. And he didn’t have a “Lord” attached to his title. “Mr. Dandie,” he said boisterously. “Any friend of this lot is a friend of mine.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Dandie said. “Particularly since I hear you are in the running for a certain parliamentary building contract.”

  Danny’s brow shot up. He glanced to his friends. “Don’t tell me that you lot brought me business instead of fun this evening.”

  They all took seats around the table. Reese grinned knowingly. “John has a proposal that I think you’ll be interested in.”

  “Since it sounds like you are most likely to be granted the parliamentary contract,” Freddy added.

  A stirring of hope filled Danny’s chest, and he glanced to Rupert. “Is that so?”

  Rupert held up his hands. “I may be on the committee to make the decision, but I have no information that I’m able to share.” He paused, then said, “But I do think you should hear Mr. Dandie out.”

  Danny turned to the newcomer with an expectant look. “What do you propose, sir?”

  “Well.” Dandie inched his chair closer to the table, glancing around to see if they would be overheard before continuing. “I have been given to understand that you are sympathetic to certain, shall we say, unusual causes.”

  In an instant, Danny was intrigued. “I am.”

  Dandie glanced around again. “I represent a certain organization here in London.” He paused, but gave no further details. “As you may know, it is difficult for certain men to find safe housing in protected areas. Not for anything untoward or illegal, mind you,” he was quick to add. “But discrimination in this time of housing shortage is a real problem for some of my friends.”

  The pieces clicked together. Reese and Freddy seemed particularly interested in the conversation. They were “certain men” of the sort Danny was beginning to think John Dandie was speaking of. Their sort certainly did have difficulty finding safe places to live, as he’d discovered through his real estate dealings of the past.

  “I understand your meaning,” Danny said. His mind jumped ahead to what Dandie might be asking him. And frankly, he relished the idea of thumbing his nose at the right and proper channels of society by getting involved with a project of the sort he thought Dandie might be talking about.

  “This Earl’s Court development,” Dandie went on, lowering his voice. “If parliament does grant you this contract, you could be in a position to help a lot of men whom society would otherwise turn its back on.”

  “I take your meaning,” Danny said. “You want me to build a community within a community for friends of yours.”

  “Yes,” Dandie said, seemingly relieved that he didn’t have to explain further.

  “What an intriguing idea.” Danny leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. “People would hate it.” His smile grew.

  “If they ever became aware of it,” Dandie said. “Nothing needs to be said aloud and no promises need to be made, but if friends I know who are desperately in need of a place to live got wind that there was, shall we say, a garden square where they knew they would be welcome….”

  Danny liked the idea. He’d seen far too many people of all sorts kicked around and treated terribly by the moralizing middle-class. And the upper classes did nothing to help them. Class, situation, status, he abhorred all of it. John Dandie was offering him a chance to be part of a much-needed solution to an ages old social problem.

  But before he could give the man an answer, the pub door slammed open, and none other than Lord bloody Cosgrove marched in.

  “I should have known it was you,” the man growled, stomping straight through the center of the pub to where Danny sat with his friends near the back. “You lying blackguard.”

  “Lord Cosgrove. We meet again.” Danny stood, smiling at the fun he was about to have. “Welcome to The Watchman. Pull up a chair and I’ll have Nora bring you a pint.” He waved to one of the barmaids.

  The entire pub was instantly on the alert. The regulars turned to stare at Lord Cosgrove, wondering what the man was doing there and likely waiting for Danny to run circles around him.

  “How dare you put yourself forward for the Earl’s Court development contract,” Lord Cosgrove said, standing with his chest puffed out like an indignant peacock.

  “What business is it of yours how I conduct my affairs?” Danny asked with a laugh designed to make the man feel snubbed.

  Lord Cosgrove balled his hands into fists at his sides, practically quivering with rage. “You only approached Parliament after hearing me say that I was on the verge of winning that contract the other day,” he said.

  “Is tha
t what you think?” Danny glanced around at his friends and customers, as though they were part of a stage show and the audience was encouraged to react to the drama.

  “It’s what I know.” Lord Cosgrove narrowed his eyes. “I saw the way you dared to look at Lady Phoebe the other day. It was disgusting, sir, and I will not stand for the mistreatment of a woman such as her.”

  Danny laughed. “Then you would do well to leave her alone yourself, since she made it clear she wants nothing to do with you.”

  Lord Cosgrove bristled. “Lady Phoebe needs some convincing is all. She will see the value in marrying me.”

  “I highly doubt that.” Danny turned away. He didn’t want to waste his time with Cosgrove anymore.

  “You will withdraw your name from consideration for the Earl’s Court development.” Lord Cosgrove said as though it were a foregone conclusion.

  “I will do no such thing,” Danny laughed.

  Cosgrove started to protest, but he was interrupted as the pub’s door banged open once again and Lady Darlington charged in, followed by Phoebe and her friend, Mrs. Townsend.

  “I will not stand for this, sir. Not for another moment,” Lady Darlington roared. “That man, Mr. Umbridge cannot—”

  She stopped short at the sight of Lord Cosgrove. Phoebe nearly barreled right into her back. Her face lost all of its color at the sight of Cosgrove. Worse still, Cosgrove’s expression darkened as he stared at her.

  “Lady Phoebe,” he said, tilting his head up as though offended. “You lied to me.”

  Chapter 7

  The moment Phoebe clapped eyes on Lord Cosgrove, her stomach sank. She knew she would have to account for telling the man to call on her at Mrs. Jones’s boarding house after Friday, but she hadn’t realized that reckoning would come so soon.

  She thought fast, saying, “‘Lie’ is a very strong word, my lord.” Her voice came out wispy, in spite of her determination to be bold.

  “Imagine my shock when I arrived at that second-rate boarding house, only to be told you and Lady Darlington had vacated,” Lord Cosgrove said, glowering as he moved closer to her, proving her suspicion about his reason for being upset to be right. “What is the meaning of this subterfuge?”

  “The meaning is that she doesn’t want to see you, just like I told you.” Danny stepped into the argument, moving to stand slightly in front of Phoebe, as though he would block Lord Cosgrove from interfering with her.

  That action prompted Phoebe’s mother to push herself forward to face Danny. “What right do you have to involve yourself in my daughter’s disagreement with her suitor, sir?” she demanded.

  Phoebe was tempted to hide her face in her hands. “Mama, Mr. Long is a friend.”

  “Oh, a friend, is he?” Lord Cosgrove bristled like an indignant turkey.

  “He is renting Lady Darlington and Phoebe a flat in the building across the street,” Natalia said, joining the fray with a spark of excitement in her eyes as little Dennis began to fuss and wail.

  Phoebe rather felt like fussing and wailing herself. “It’s true,” she sighed, rubbing her forehead and wishing the entire situation would go away. Particularly as Lord Howsden, Lord Marlowe, Lord Harrington, and a man Phoebe didn’t recognize seemed to be losing their battle not to chuckle at the entire confrontation from the table where they sat in the corner. “Mrs. Jones demanded that Mama and I leave her establishment.”

  “Which was your fault,” Natalia added with a glare for Lord Cosgrove, “because you called without permission when callers were forbidden.”

  “He’s a viscount,” Phoebe’s mother argued indignantly. “The rules of a third-rate boarding house do not apply to him.”

  “Mama.” Phoebe pursed her lips and gave her mother a sideways look.

  “Whether the rules of a fourth-rate boarding house apply to a viscount or not,” Danny boomed, mirth dancing in his eyes as he degraded Mrs. Jones’s establishment even further, “Lady Darlington and her mother are now tenants of mine.”

  Phoebe’s mother snorted and shook her head. “No, no, I am Lady Darlington. My daughter is Lady Phoebe.”

  “And I’m the bloody Queen of Siam,” Danny said, mouth pulling into a grin.

  The gentlemen at the table hid their laughter behind their hands, their shoulders shaking. Phoebe was inclined to be furious with them for making sport of her plight, but the fact that they were so amused gave her the paradoxical feeling that the situation couldn’t be too serious.

  “This is outrageous,” Lord Cosgrove blustered on, sideburns quivering as he snapped straight in indignation. “For such fine ladies to be reduced to this?” He sneered at Danny.

  “Actually, their new flat is quite large and comfortable,” Natalia interjected, grinning as broadly as the gentlemen at the table. “I wouldn’t mind if Dr. Townsend and I lived there ourselves.”

  “If you’re truly in the market for a flat, I’ve got several vacant units I could show you,” Danny said in what Phoebe felt was a deliberately off-hand way, ignoring Lord Cosgrove completely.

  Lord Cosgrove would not be ignored, though. “I will not stand to be made fun of like this,” he said, appearing to assume that Danny’s offer was meant as a slight to him. “It is a disgrace that a pub owner,” he spoke the words with venom, “could be so audacious as to think he has the right to challenge a peer over a land deal that is far, far above his station.”

  Lord Marlowe cleared his throat. “My lord, Mr. Long is more than just a pub owner.”

  Lord Cosgrove ignored him. “He is a villain who is seeking to rise above his station,” he said, tilting his nose up into the air. “And if he does not cease his arrogant activities, I shall have the authorities brought to this establishment to make him stop.”

  “Authorities?” Danny crossed his arms, looking as though he were barely able to contain his humor. “Like Lord Clerkenwell?”

  “If necessary,” Lord Cosgrove sniffed.

  Danny shrugged. “Good. I’ll have his usual table prepared for him before he gets here.”

  Lord Cosgrove lost some of his swagger, his shoulders dropping. He hissed in annoyance. “What has become of the world when any street urchin thinks they can challenge establishment and breeding?”

  “You think establishment and breeding makes a man competent in business and land development?” Danny asked, one eyebrow raised.

  “Yes,” Lord Cosgrove said, gaping as though it were obvious. “It is a well-known fact that the lower classes are mentally deficient, that their brains are malformed, and that they are incapable of even the meanest tasks without supervision and instruction.”

  Phoebe expected Danny to laugh the comment off, as he’d laughed the rest of Lord Cosgrove’s nonsense off. Instead, all teasing vanished from his expression, leaving him the very picture of dangerous determination.

  “You think that where I was born and who my parents are is a determining factor in whether I am as much of a man as you are?” he asked in a threatening voice, stepping closer to Lord Cosgrove.

  Lord Cosgrove pulled back, seeming to shrink before Phoebe’s eyes. “Well, yes,” he admitted.

  Danny continued to close the space between them. “You think that because I speak in a certain way that I am incapable of thinking circles around you or acting propitiously to advance my business concerns?” His accent shifted to one as fine as any gentleman would use.

  Phoebe raised a hand to her stomach to still the butterflies there. Her heart raced at the way Danny arched an eyebrow at Lord Cosgrove, demanding an answer.

  All Lord Cosgrove could manage was, “The contract should go to me.”

  Lord Marlowe stood at the table. “The contract will go to whichever firm offers the best proposal and makes the most convincing case in parliamentary hearings.”

  “Ah!” Lord Cosgrove jumped back, pointing to Lord Marlowe as though his statement won him the argument. “You see? The contract will go to the best candidate. And we all know what that means when it comes to Parliament.
”

  Phoebe thought the argument was nonsense, but Danny’s face fell into a frown.

  “This isn’t over yet, Cosgrove,” he said in a growl that sent shivers down Phoebe’s spine. “I advise you to leave my pub immediately.”

  “I shall, sir.” Lord Cosgrove tilted his chin up and marched past Danny. Before he reached the door, he turned to Phoebe. “Will you accompany me, Lady Phoebe? I am quite certain I can find better accommodations for you than anything this bounder has offered.”

  “I am quite satisfied with the flat Mr. Long is renting to us,” Phoebe said, pressing her hand to her stomach harder as the butterflies switched to some more sinister kind of fluttering.

  “Phoebe,” her mother hissed. “Lord Cosgrove is making an offer you cannot refuse.”

  “And yet, I do refuse it, Mama,” Phoebe said with a long-suffering sigh. “Please do not ask me again, Lord Cosgrove.” She met Lord Cosgrove’s eyes with what she hoped was a firm stare.

  “I can see I will need to sweeten the pot a bit,” Lord Cosgrove said with a sniff. He glanced past Phoebe to Danny. “But rest assured, I know how to convince Parliament to grant the development contract to the correct party.” He looked to Phoebe again. “You will see all I have to offer you in time.”

  Phoebe opened her mouth to protest, but Lord Cosgrove turned abruptly and marched out to the street.

  “Well. Isn’t this a fine kettle of fish?” Phoebe’s mother snapped. “Turning down the best proposal you’re ever likely to get out of sheer stubbornness.” She clucked her tongue and turned to Danny with a glare. “And you, sir. Attempting to rise above your betters. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Shame is a wasted emotion, my lady,” Danny said with a shrug. “I never had much use for it.”

  “I can see that,” Phoebe’s mother said tightly. “And your manager, Mr. Umbridge, apparently sees that too. You will tell the man that he is not to barge into our flat whenever he feels the need. He is a loathsome oaf who cannot keep his smiles to himself.”