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

by Merry Farmer

  “He was fitting the door for a new lock, Lady Darlington,” Natalia said, bouncing Dennis in her arms.

  “Yes, a lock which he no doubt holds the key for and will creep into our flat in the dead of night to murder us in our beds,” Phoebe’s mother said with almost theatrical levels of drama.

  “Umbridge doesn’t even like swatting flies,” Danny laughed, his humor returning. “But I’ll tell him to have a care, if you’d like.”

  “Very good.” Phoebe’s mother squared her shoulders and tried to look like the marchioness she once was. “Now, come along, Phoebe. We have decorating to do.”

  “Yes, Mama,” Phoebe sighed and started out of the pub with her mother.

  “Hang on a minute.” Danny jumped after her. “I need Lady Darlington’s help with something.”

  “It’s Lady Phoebe,” Phoebe’s mother sighed in irritation. “And you cannot have her.”

  Phoebe glanced between Danny and her mother. “I really do owe it to Mr. Long to help out with whatever concern he has, Mama, seeing as he’s giving us the flat at a greatly reduced rate.”

  “I’ll help you decorate, Lady Darlington,” Natalia said with a broad smile.

  Phoebe’s mother sighed as though the weight of the world were on her shoulders. “Very well, then.”

  The two of them left the pub, Phoebe’s mother muttering and Natalia giggling. Phoebe watched until they were gone, then turned to Danny.

  “What can I do for you?” Her gut quivered in expectation. Then again, surely Danny wouldn’t spell out the illicit terms of their rental agreement in the middle of an increasingly crowded pub with a table full of noblemen who knew them both mere feet away.

  She was right. Danny motioned for Phoebe to join him with the others at the table. He even pulled out a chair so she could be seated.

  “How do we beat him?” he asked.

  Phoebe blinked a few times, baffled at the turn of events. She wasn’t sure she entirely grasped the situation until Lord Howsden said, “He’ll play dirty. It’s likely he’ll seek out the names of the men serving on the land development committee.”

  “He’ll find a way to woo them,” Lord Harrington agreed, nodding to Lord Howsden. Not for the first time, Phoebe was struck by the sweetness between the two men.

  Before she could think more of it, Danny went on with, “If Cosgrove thinks he can charm the land committee, then we need to charm them first.”

  Phoebe raised her eyebrows at him. “I’m not sure that’s entirely above board.”

  “Of course it isn’t above board,” Danny said with a teasing grin. “Nothing is ever truly above board in business.”

  “You can say that again,” the man Phoebe didn’t know said with a half-laugh.

  “So we have to find a way to beat him at his game,” Danny went on. “You lot know nobs far better than I do. What sort of thing would sway the opinion of a bunch of peers parceling out development deals?” He glanced around the table at the men, then stared square at Phoebe.

  Phoebe’s mouth dropped open, and she blinked rapidly for a moment as she thought. “I suppose gentlemen in Parliament would want to see that the man they are granting the contract to speaks their same language.”

  “Very true,” Lord Howsden said. The others nodded and hummed in agreement.

  “Cosgrove is right about the peerage not breaking ranks if they can possibly avoid it,” Lord Harrington agreed.

  “So, what?” Danny shrugged. “How do I convince a bunch of toffs that I’m as much of a toff as they are?”

  “You could try speaking in a more refined way,” Lord Marlowe said, looking sheepish as he made the suggestion.

  “You dress well enough, but you could always try to outmatch those members of Parliament with the latest fashions,” the man Phoebe didn’t know said.

  Lord Marlowe grunted and shook his head. “I’m not sure that would be a good idea. Class is defined by dress, and the quickest way to offend the nobility is for someone to dress above their station.”

  “Stations are for trains,” Danny growled, sitting back in his chair and crossing his arms. “Have we made no progress at all as a society? Is rank and birth still more important than ability and cleverness?”

  “Yes,” All three of the gentlemen at the table answered in unison.

  The man Phoebe didn’t know merely winced and glanced warily at the others. The simple reaction told Phoebe he wasn’t a member of the aristocracy.

  “You could host a ball,” she said quietly, not entirely comfortable with speaking out at a table filled with men. Class wasn’t the only determining factor in leadership. Women were looked down on as much as men like Danny. Which inspired a wave of sympathy for Danny’s plight that Phoebe hadn’t expected.

  “A ball,” Danny said, his smile returning. “That might just do the trick.” He stroked his chin, leaning back farther in his chair. “Ply them all with food and drink. Show them a good time. Offer a few parting gifts as they say their goodbyes for the evening.”

  “You cannot bribe members of Parliament,” Phoebe said, astonished that Danny would even think as much.

  The others seemed entirely nonplussed. “You might be on to something there,” Lord Harrington said.

  “I wouldn’t put it past Cosgrove to try something similar,” Lord Marlowe said with a shrug.

  Danny swayed suddenly forward, thumping his hands on the table. “It’s settled, then. We’ll throw a ball to woo parliamentary nobs into rewarding me the contract. Then you and I can discuss your plans for a safe settlement, Mr. Dandie,” he said to the man Phoebe didn’t know.

  “I look forward to it,” Mr. Dandie said, rising. “Now if you will excuse me, gentlemen. I have a business to run. My partner, Mr. Wirth, and I are interviewing candidates for an open office manager position today.”

  The other gentlemen stood to shake Mr. Dandie’s hand and wish him goodbye. Whatever business they’d come for seemed to be concluded, and the rest of them said their goodbyes and gathered their things to leave as well.

  Phoebe smiled and nodded to the men, then turned to leave herself.

  “Wait one moment,” Danny whispered to her, catching the fabric of her sleeve and tugging her toward the bar at the back of the increasingly noisy common room. “We have one other thing to discuss.”

  Butterflies filled Phoebe’s stomach anew as she followed Danny around the bar to what appeared to be an office at the back of the pub. The small room contained a desk piled with ledgers, shelves lined with more ledgers and what looked to be samples of mugs, plates, and cutlery, as well as other thing that might be used for service in a pub. She could barely catch her breath as Danny shut the door, sealing the two of them alone in the room.

  “I’d like you to do something for me,” Danny said, a spark of cunning in his eyes as he turned to face her.

  Phoebe gulped and pressed a hand to her stomach. This was it. This was the moment when she had to decide just how far she’d go to put a roof over her and her mother’s heads. “What would you like me to do?” she asked, her voice cracking.

  The corner of Danny’s mouth twitched as he stepped closer to her. His presence was overpowering to the point where Phoebe knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she wouldn’t be able to resist whatever he had in mind.

  “I want you,” he began slowly, “to plan this ball for me.” He stopped only a few feet in front of her.

  Phoebe held her breath, then blinked. “You want me to plan a ball for you?” She dropped her hand to her side.

  “I don’t know the first thing about nob balls,” he said, then burst into a sudden grin. “Though I suspect Reese and Freddy do.” He chuckled.

  Phoebe had no idea what he was talking about. “You want me to plan a ball,” she repeated.

  “Yes.” Danny inched closer to her. “You’ve been to fancy balls before, right?”

  “I have.”

  “So you know what they involve. You’ll know how to impress the upper classes. And you’l
l know where I could host the right sort of event.”

  “I—” Phoebe continued to feel off-balance. The conversation wasn’t at all what she thought it would be.

  “We’ll consider this your rental payment,” Danny went on.

  That surprised Phoebe even more. “This is what you want as rental payment?” she asked, baffled.

  Danny’s mouth pulled into a wicked grin. “What did you think I was going to ask you for?”

  Heat flooded Phoebe’s face and her eyes fluttered down. He knew exactly what she’d been thinking. Knowing that made her feel as exposed as if he’d torn her blouse wide open.

  “Hey,” he said softly, stepping close enough to rest a hand under her chin and tilt her head up to him. “Didn’t I say you shouldn’t do that anymore?”

  “Do what?” Her voice shook.

  “Get that sad, defeated look. It doesn’t suit you.” He moved closer still, so close she could feel the heat of his body.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, trying to look down again on instinct. Her motion met the resistance of his hand, which kept her chin up.

  “Don’t be sorry,” he said. “Ever.”

  He leaned into her, slanting his mouth over hers and stealing the breath from her lungs with a kiss. Phoebe couldn’t believe she’d let herself be lured into a kiss yet again, but this one was as astounding as the last. She gave into it without a fight, letting him devour her mouth and tease her lips and tongue with his own. It felt so good that her eyes fluttered shut and she let out a sound of surrender before she could stop herself.

  As soon as the sound was made, Danny pulled abruptly back, sucking in a breath. “If you start with that, I’m not going to be able to stop,” he said in a rough voice. He took another step back and cleared his throat, then boomed. “No time for indulgence. We have a ball to plan.”

  Chapter 8

  There was nothing Danny loved more than a good challenge. Beating Cosgrove at his game was one of the most exciting challenges that had come his way in years. Partially because it involved more than just land deals, it involved Phoebe. Cosgrove wanted her, but Phoebe wanted nothing to do with him. That gave Danny the chance not only to step up and be her champion—a role that he rather liked the more he thought about it—it meant he could thwart Cosgrove on two fronts at the same time. And men like Cosgrove deserved to be taken down a peg or seven.

  But there was an additional level of challenge to the Earl’s Court deal that interested Danny—the one presented by Mr. John Dandie. Danny was sympathetic to the plight of any group of people that was ignored or denigrated by the ruling classes. While he didn’t have a lick of interest in other men the way Dandie implied his friends did, Danny loved the idea of flying in the face of society’s norms by giving those men a place to live. He didn’t believe a word of the nastiness the papers printed about them or their depravity. Men like that weren’t the cause of the moral degeneracy that the papers said threatened the city, men like Cosgrove were. So if he could help out one group and thumb his nose at another, he was all for it.

  Which was how he found himself knocking on the open doorway of a discreet office tucked into a neglected corner of The City on Monday morning.

  “Hello?” he bellowed, even though the front room of the office was only half as big as the common room of his pub. “Is this where Mr. John Dandie works?”

  The two men at the desk on one side of the office glanced up from what they were doing. The man seated at the desk was young and slender, with blue eyes, a pale complexion, and a keen eye for fashion. The man standing over him, looking as though he were pointing out the way the open ledgers on the desk were organized, was tall with dark hair and eyes and a decidedly serious look. Based on what Dandie had said at the pub the other day, Danny assumed the seated man was the newly hired office manager and the standing one was the partner, David Wirth.

  “Mr. Long.” Dandie himself strode out of the back office, all smiles and welcoming. “What a pleasant surprise to see you here this morning.”

  Dandie crossed the room, offering Danny a hand. Danny shook it boisterously. “So this is your office, eh?”

  “This is it,” Dandie replied with a broad smile. “We’re rather proud of what we’ve built. This is my partner, Mr. David Wirth.”

  “I’ve heard all about you,” Danny said, crossing the room to shake Wirth’s hand, pleasantly surprised by how firm the man’s handshake was.

  “And this is our new office manager, Mr. Lionel Mercer,” Dandie went on, moving to the desk and gesturing to the fashionable young man.

  Mercer stood and reached over the desk, surprising Danny with yet another strong handshake. “It’s a pleasure,” Mercer said, a flash of appreciation in his eyes.

  Danny laughed in spite of himself. He’d never been so overtly sized up by a man before, especially not one who didn’t seem at all fussed about letting on what his tastes were. “Looks like those interviews you had to rush off to the other day bore fruit, eh, Dandie?” He turned back to Dandie.

  “They did.” Dandie nodded. “Mr. Mercer had the finest credentials and the most glowing recommendations of any candidate we spoke to.”

  “And the most intriguing connections,” Wirth added with a sideways look to the young man.

  “You flatter me,” Mercer said modestly, but in a way that conveyed absolute certainty in himself.

  Danny could tell in an instant that the man was a wealth of adventure just waiting to be tapped, but he turned to Dandie, intent on discussing business. “So, what can you tell me about this proposed property development you’d like me to undertake once I win the Earl’s Court deal?” he asked as though the deal were a foregone conclusion.

  Dandie shrugged. “Mostly what we discussed before. I envision a square—much like the ones that are already being planned and executed in that part of the city—which contains terraced apartments which will be rented to members of a certain organization we belong to.” He nodded to the other two men.

  Danny’s mind tickled with curiosity to know what organization they were talking about, although he suspected it was one he wouldn’t be allowed access to for a variety of reasons.

  “Are you certain you’ll be able to win the contract?” Wirth asked before Danny could pry for details.

  Danny figured he was trying to protect his own by deflecting Danny’s interest. He let the topic go, shrugged, and said, “I’m as certain as I am of anything. Though getting around Cosgrove’s bid for the contract could prove more of a hurdle than I want it to be.”

  “Are you certain Cosgrove’s bid for the contract is strong enough that Parliament would consider it?” Dandie asked.

  Mercer stepped around the edge of the desk. “Is this Lord Richard Cosgrove?” he asked with keen interest that surprised Danny.

  “It is.” Danny faced him. “Do you know the man?”

  “Not personally,” Mercer said with a shrug. “I am particular friends with a few gentlemen who have spoken freely about him on occasion, though.”

  Danny’s eyebrows inched up. “What have they said when they spoke freely? Is he a true threat for the Earl’s Court contract?”

  Wirth and Dandie seemed as interested in the question as Danny was. All three of them glanced to Mercer.

  Mercer tilted his head to the side slightly, as though he enjoyed being the center of their attention and the one whom they all looked to for knowledge. “He has been putting a great deal of effort into land development,” he said. “Or, at least, charging his solicitor, Mr. Grey, with putting effort into it. It seems his hereditary estates are in dire need of updating. The income they provide is more on paper than in reality. He needs the Earl’s Court development and the income it would provide to shore up his home defenses, as it were.”

  Danny gaped at the man. “How do you know all that?” he asked, grinning at the man’s cleverness.

  Mercer answered the question with a coquettish smile. “As I said, I have quite a few friends who are mutual acquaintances
of Lord Cosgrove.”

  “And half of the rest of England,” Dandie added in a low voice. “Those are the credentials that earned him the job.”

  “Gossip,” Danny laughed. “They gave you the job because you know all the gossip.”

  “I prefer to call it sensitive information of an important character,” Mercer said with a coy grin.

  Danny crossed his arms and stared at Mercer in challenge. “All right, then. If you’ve got all the dirt on all the nobs, tell me this. I’m planning a ball to sway those parliamentary toffs whose job it is to decide who gets the contract. Well, Lady Phoebe is planning it for me, really. How can we—”

  “Lady Phoebe?” Mercer blinked as though the mention of Phoebe’s name had sparked something in his mind. “That wouldn’t be Lady Phoebe Darlington, would it?”

  Danny’s amusement at Mercer’s seeming omniscience turned to a wary need to protect Phoebe from whatever threat strangers knowing her business might present. “That’s her,” he said carefully.

  “And you say she is working with you to plan a ball with the intent of undercutting Lord Cosgrove’s bid on the development contract?” Mercer asked on.

  Danny writhed inwardly at the man’s astuteness. “Yes. And she’s under my protection.” He probably didn’t need to add the last bit, but he felt better staking his claim all the same.

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Mercer said, surprising Danny yet again.

  “You are?” Wirth asked, as baffled by the whole exchange as Danny was. Dandie looked impressed with Mercer’s knowledge as well.

  Mercer paced around to the front of the desk, tapping his lips with one finger as though lost in thought. He came to rest with his backside against the front of the desk. “Lord Cosgrove was friends with Lady Phoebe Darlington’s father, if that sort of character can be said to have friends.”

  “I looked into him,” Danny said. “The man was a waste of time and space, if you ask me.”