Invitation to Scandal

by Bronwen Evans

  One did not encroach on another man’s property unless he’d either finished with said property or one was mad with desire. Currently, the only woman driving Rufus mad was a fair-haired gypsy called Rhe. A woman, who, it appeared, was a ghost.

  Lady Umbridge leveled hard blue eyes on him. “Of course your father shot himself the very next day. I do hope history doesn’t repeat itself. It would be rather a waste.” And her hand found his thigh.

  He reached under the table and removed her hand. “Do not fret. I’ll not be shooting myself tomorrow.” His steely gaze sent a clear message of his disinterest.

  Ignoring her flushed face, he turned his attention to the young man directly across the table from him. Baron de Winter had been staring at Lady Umbridge as if he wanted her to become the next course.

  That did not bother him. In fact, if Stephen could pawn Lady Umbridge off on this green-behind-the-ears pup all the better.

  His eyes narrowed and he took another sip of his red wine. He knew this lad. He looked very familiar. Where had they met before? He could not for the life of him place the baron. He almost never forgot a face or a name. In his line of work, it paid not to. Never mind. He’d corner him after dinner when the gentleman retired.

  He speculated on the empty place at the table beside Lord Hale. Turning to their hostess seated on his right, Lady Helen Hale, Christopher’s mother, he asked, “We appear to be missing someone. I hope they’re not indisposed.”

  “How astute of you to notice. Yes, Miss Kerrich, the baron’s sister. She is unwell, I have been told, although I am assured it’s nothing serious.” She focused her gaze on the baron and called, “Daniel, you do promise me your sister is not seriously ill. I am quite sure Christopher would send for the doctor if needed.”

  The baron’s face colored. “There is absolutely no need Lady Hale. Rheda is simply indisposed.”

  “Well, I shall visit her tomorrow and ensure for myself that all is well.”

  Rheda?

  Rufus almost choked on his mouthful. Was Rhe short for Rheda? He shook his head and took another sip of his wine, trying to halt his coughing. No, it could not be. But the proof was sitting across the table from him. Why had he not noticed it from the start? The baron’s hair was darker than Rhe—Rheda’s, but the features of his face and the deep green of his eyes gave her identity away.

  No wonder Rufus had been unable to find her. He’d been looking in all the wrong places. He cringed at the realization he’d almost seduced a lady. But it added to the puzzle. What on earth had she been doing with that barrel?

  Lady Umbridge spitefully added softly in his ear, “I suspect she’s too embarrassed to show her face at Lord Hale’s table in front of polite society. He supposedly proposed to her.”

  Rufus wasn’t at all surprised. Miss Kerrich was a beauty any man would desire. Lord Hale wasn’t the brightest pumpkin in the patch, and although handsome, his lack of intelligent conversation and his portly body did not endear him to the ladies. Even with his wealth, he was not inundated with marriage prospects. Keeping his question casual he asked, “But they never married?”

  Lady Umbridge smiled conspiratorially, warming to her story. “I believe Lord Hale was gentleman enough to say she had refused him. However, the gossip was he withdrew his proposal once the scandal became known.”

  Rufus’s eyebrow rose. “There was a scandal?”

  “Oh, yes. A young Arab prince, Sultan Hammed, was visiting here with his lordship. Miss Kerrich struck up quite a friendship with the prince and his sister. On the prince’s return home, he sent her two beautiful Arabian mares. She did not return them. Everyone assumed they were payment for services rendered.”

  His pulse quickened at the word scandal. Miss Kerrich might be more experienced than he’d first thought. She might even be open to his seduction. She certainly seemed enthusiastic when he’d kissed her.

  He sighed into his glass. He needed to be sure. She was the baron’s sister. He could hardly compromise her if she was indeed a virgin. He did not wish to end up leg shackled—especially to a woman so inappropriate. Restoring the Strathmore good name came first. And when he had achieved that, he wasn’t about to tarnish the image by marrying a woman who acted like a hellion and was surrounded by scandal.

  Besides, his bride was already picked out. A demure, respectable woman, Lady Clare Browning, a friend of his sister. Clare’s father, the Marquis of Lee, needed money and he was prepared to overlook the scandal attached to the Strathmore name in order to get it.

  Clare was a woman who would not embroil the Strathmore name in further disgrace. Although there was no formal understanding between them, the marquis expected Rufus to offer for her.

  His gut clenched at the thought. As with most of his life, due to his father’s treason he was left to pay the price. A marriage to a mouse of a woman who couldn’t even look him in the eye. How he’d ever get her with child he shuddered to think. If he was free to choose a wife, regardless of consequences, she would not be his choice.

  Since when had he ever had the luxury of free will?

  At the end of dinner, while the men were enjoying their port and cigars, Rufus moved across to the baron. “Please pass on my sympathies to your sister, Lord de Winter. I had the pleasure of making her acquaintance.”

  He watched a frown play across the young man’s face. “Did you? She did not mention it.”

  “The meeting was not of significance. She merely pointed me in the direction of Hastingleigh.” A small lie but far better than the truth.

  “Was she out riding Desert Rose, one of her Arabian mares? I’m surprised she did not pester you into borrowing your fine stallion. Caesar’s a legend—Godolphin Arabian stock. She has dreams of breeding Anglo-Arabian horses for the cavalry.”

  Rufus’s mood darkened. Light flashed in his brain. Mares? So, it was Caesar she had been taken with. He thought she’d been afraid of his steed, but she’d been assessing his horse’s character. His pride stung. It wasn’t often he had to compete with his stallion for a lady’s attentions.

  “Breeding horses? She sounds a remarkable young woman.” Rufus did not have the heart to tell Daniel he had found her running around the countryside with illegal contraband, dressed as a gypsy. Nor that he had kissed her senseless, taken liberties with her person, and wanted more.

  Much more.

  Lord Hale joined the conversation. “She is quite right of course. They would make fine cavalry horses, and with the war, we need as many horses as we can get.” He turned to address Rufus. “Speaking of excellent horse flesh, by Jove, for such an expensive steed, you are remarkably unconcerned with his care. Why is he not in the stable? Ted has turned him loose in the back paddock.”

  Rufus knew his smile did not reach his eyes, and he felt his jaw tighten. “At this time of year I was concerned you may have had mares in your stable. If they were in heat it could cause quite a mess.”

  Lord Hale gave a jolly laugh. “I never keep the mares stabled over summer for that very reason. No, they are at the other end of my estate, well away from the stable and any stallions I may corral in the back paddock. The stable contains only two geldings, no threat to your prize stallion.”

  The muscles across Rufus’s shoulders tightened. Annoyance coursed through his body, quickly followed by anger. “Are you sure? I could have sworn someone told me the stables contained mares.” The head groomsman had told him so.

  Lord Hale frowned. “I hope not. Ted, my head groom, is too experienced to make that mistake, especially when I was due to have guests arriving.” Lord Hale paused for a moment. “Yes, I am sure Ted knew not to house any mares, because I’d informed him you were bringing Caesar.”

  Like the mechanism of his expensive pocket watch, Rufus’s mind silently ticked. What was going on? Ted had definitely told him there were mares in the stable.

  Still, Rufus gave him the benefit of the doubt. “Perhaps Ted thought Miss Kerrich’s carriage might be pulled by her mares.”

>   The baron laughed. “Yes, that is quite likely knowing my sister. She’d love any excuse to get her mares within close proximity to Caesar and let nature take its course. Her mares are in heat.”

  The cogs in his brain came to a grinding halt. He could not believe she would be that audacious. The conniving little. . . he could not think of words bad enough to do her justice. Sick? He would bet his life she wasn’t sick. She had planned this evening almost as well as Wellington planned his frontal assaults against Napoleon.

  He knew exactly where Miss Rheda Kerrich was, and it was not on her sickbed. He would wager his whole estate she was in the paddock with Caesar and her two mares. Stealing what rightly belonged to him—Caesar’s lineage.

  The room was suddenly too hot. Hell, he was not about to let some hoyden make a fool of him. Besides, if he could catch her thieving, he would have leverage. She would have to tell him about the barrel. And more ...

  He tugged at his cuffs. Stephen, watching from across the room, understood the signal and casually strolled toward them.

  “It is uncommonly warm this evening, Lord Strathmore. Could I interest you in a stroll in the garden? I have news from your mother that I should deliver as promised.”

  Rufus smiled at the group of men. “If you will excuse us, gentlemen.” The two men bowed and took their leave.

  Together they walked down the terrace and into the garden. As soon as they were out of view, Rufus turned and strode purposefully through the rose garden, down the walled orchard, toward the back paddock.

  “Are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Stephen asked, trying to keep up.

  “Remember the gypsy I thought could lead us to Dark Shadow? It turns out she is not a gypsy at all. She is Miss Rheda Kerrich, the baron’s sister.”

  “So you have opportuned a lady. How distasteful.” Stephen laughed. “Don’t look at me with that thunderous expression. Seduction is now out of the question. We will simply have to look elsewhere for a way to gain the information we require.”

  Rufus could barely speak his anger was so intense. “Let’s not be so hasty. I’ve done some investigating in the few days I have been here. The baron’s father left the estate bankrupt. Yet, since the age of only seventeen, on her own, she has managed to hold off the creditors. How is that do you think?”

  “You think she’s involved in smuggling? Highly unlikely. Besides, Dark Shadow’s organization is one of the most feared in all of Kent. A woman? Surely not.”

  “Beneath every powerful man, there usually lies a woman.” Rufus doubled his pace. “She could be his mistress.”

  “Slow down. Where are we rushing off to, and what has prickled your skin tonight?”

  “I believe, having seen something of Miss Kerrich’s character, that she’s capable of almost anything. She is not some young ballroom chit.” Rufus still remembered the feel of her womanly curves in his arms. He’d dreamed last night. Reliving her response to his kisses. Her wild abandonment in his dreams—and the fact she was closer to thirty than twenty—indicated she was not a normal simpering virginal miss. “The minx has Caesar in the corral so she can secretly mate her Arabian mares with him. She has planned it all.”

  Stephen laughed appreciatively. “Brilliant. You would be unlikely to look for Caesar until morning. What are you so upset about? I am sure Caesar will enjoy the task.”

  Rufus swung around to face his friend. “For one thing she could get herself killed. Have you ever seen horses mating? If Caesar does not impress the mares, he will have the stuffing kicked out of him. Alternatively, if he takes a real shine to the mares and they deny him, God help anyone who tries to get in his way. Mating horses is not a job for the inexperienced or a woman. You need huge reserves of strength to maintain control.”

  “You are simply peeved because she fooled you. I have never known a woman who wanted your horse more than you. This evening is getting interesting. I am looking forward to meeting Miss Kerrich.”

  Caesar was being the perfect gentleman. The mares, however, were being perfect teases.

  White Lily, after much fanfare, had finally consented to Caesar’s ministrations. Caesar was not new to his task, and Jamieson did not even have to hold him steady. Desert Rose, however, was a different story. The first time the mare was mounted, she tried to twist sideways, almost tearing Rheda’s arms from their sockets. But she managed to hold her still, and the second mounting ended successfully, with Caesar giving one final victorious grunt.

  She walked Desert Rose around the corral as she wiped the sweat from her eyes. “How long do we rest him before we give White Lily another try?” she called to Jamieson.

  Jamieson scratched his head. “I’m not sure White Lily’s ready. She does not seem particularly impressed by Caesar.”

  Rheda handed Desert Rose to Jamieson, approached the panting stallion, and rubbed his nose. “He’s gorgeous, aren’t you, boy? Who wouldn’t be impressed by those strong shoulders and lean, powerful legs?”

  “Most women are thoroughly impressed with my physique, thank you for your praise,” an enraged male voice heralded from the shadows. “Caesar, here.”

  On hearing his master’s deep, commanding, baritone voice, the stallion quickly trotted across the corral to his side.

  She could sense Rufus at the edge of the field. The humid, still air, suddenly swirling with his presence. His raw virility set her pulse thudding, even from a distance.

  He’d found her. Casting about in desperation for a quick escape, she realized fleeing was useless. Once Rufus reentered the house, everyone would know she had been here. Due to the story of how she came by them, her horses were infamous.

  She’d have to brazen it out. Pretend this was nothing out of the ordinary, and act as if she had every right to have her horses in this field.

  Even so, panic rose up swiftly, instinct readying her to flee as two men advanced into the paddock. They were dressed all in black, the look threatening in the moonlight. Her heart accelerated as she recognized the taller, broader physique, but even then she could not hold her tongue.

  Irritation dribbled down her back like sweat. Dropping her voice to a lower octave and crossing her fingers behind her back, she responded, “There’s nothing interesting going on here, my lords. Simply mating some of Lord Hale’s horses.”

  His forceful gaze swept over Jamieson and her, trying to ascertain their identities. A shiver of fear sliced her insides. Damn the moon. She prayed it was dark enough, and her disguise good enough, that he would not know who she was. Perhaps he would think her one of Lord Hale’s stable boys.

  She ground her teeth in resignation. What was the worst that could happen? He was too late; the deed had been done, with one horse anyway.

  Eyes sharp as flint slashed in her direction, and she took a step back.

  Ignoring her, Lord Strathmore bent to study his horse. “Have you been having an enjoyable evening, Caesar? I hope you have not let the Strathmore name down and you have performed appropriately.”

  In a voice she hoped mirrored a young boy’s she said, “Actually we were debating if he had enough stamina to service the second filly.” Perhaps Lord Strathmore would think her being here, with his stallion, was a genuine mistake if she continued as if she’d done nothing wrong.

  “I think you will find Strathmore males are perfectly capable of pleasuring more than one female in one night.”

  A chuckle escaped from his companion while Jamieson gave a discreet cough.

  Rheda, thankful for what little darkness the moon provided, simply blushed, his insinuation not lost on her.

  Lord Strathmore approached until he towered over her, menace oozing from every pore. Rheda thought the effect was somewhat spoiled because he looked thoroughly enticing with his white ruffled shirt accentuating the black of his jacket. “We shall have to discuss how you are going to repay me for Caesar’s services—Miss Kerrich—Miss Rheda Kerrich—Rhe.”

  Chapter 7

  Rheda closed her eyes, k
nowing in the marrow of her bones that Lord Strathmore was the sort of man who would not stop until he got what he wanted, and now he had leverage.

  “Bloody hell,” she muttered. He’d not been fooled for a minute. She dropped her head in defeat. Not only had he found out who she was, he had caught her in the act, stealing from him, stealing his stallion’s seed.

  “Yes, you can say that again, bloody hell. Although such language from the mouth of a lady.” Lord Strathmore turned and glared at Jamieson. His voice, sounding more dark and dangerous, said, “At least you were not stupid enough to try this on your own.”

  “How on earth did you know what I was up to?”

  “Your brother and Lord Hale.”

  Her mouth gaped. She looked up at Lord Strathmore and then across to Jamieson. The ground seemed to pitch and roll as if she had drunk to much brandy. “My brother knows?”

  “Not exactly. I guessed who you were and what you were up to from their comments this evening. It was not hard to put it all together.”

  Her hands unclenched as she felt the ground revert to level, relief sweeping over her. Daniel must never know. He had threatened to sell her mares once before when she had been caught riding White Lily half undressed in the sea. The swim had not been Daniel’s concern; his concern was the fact she’d been indecent. Unclothed for all to see.

  But she was swimming at their secret cove. The cove could not be reached except by the private path down through the cliffs. The path was well hidden on de Winter land, camouflaged as a steep cliff face; the beach below was impossible to see. It had always been her and Daniel’s private place.

  She had swum there almost every day of her life, thousands of times. Only this time Daniel decided to join her, without telling her, and he’d brought a visitor. Luckily, it was only Lord Hale, and he seemed more amused than embarrassed by her nakedness. Lord Hale always indulged her “quaintness,” as he called it.