Invitation to Scandal

by Bronwen Evans

  Rheda hung her head. Not once had Helen indicated she had heard or knew of the gossip surrounding Rheda’s friendship with Prince Hammed. It pained her to think Lady Hale might think ill of her.

  As if reading her mind ... “I know you, Rheda, and I never once believed the spiteful things that were said.” Helen shook her head. “Just as most of the stories surrounding Rufus and his family are grossly exaggerated. For example, his reputation as a rake—he’s a healthy man and of course would indulge in the odd liaison. Any woman on her wedding day will thank him for his expertise. I suspect sharing a bed with Rufus would leave one quite breathless.”

  Rheda gave a quiet sigh. Helen had adored her husband and he her. Rheda, however, had seen what a marriage without love, or rather one-sided love, could do. She’d watched her mother’s spirit die a little every day as her husband treated her as chattel. Something he owned and could do as he wished with, regardless of his wife’s feelings.

  Rheda’s unease put a hitch in her throat. Admittedly her body reacted to the handsome rake, and that annoyed her. She inwardly justified her attraction to him—she was flesh and blood after all, and his beauty beckoned like a succulent feast. The liberated part of her persona screamed at her—experience that which you crave to taste—passion. He’d be perfect. He’d no doubt introduce her to the delights of her body better than any man she would ever meet. Therein lay the problem.

  Her heart beat faster, harder, with longing each time he was near. She was terrified of giving her heart and losing herself in a man who did not value her.

  Lady Hale took her hand as they entered the house and began climbing the stairs to her drawing room. “He has a good heart. He has protected his mother and younger sister from the worst of the gossip. He refuses to hide from the scandal surrounding his father, but he declines to believe it. He has many powerful friends who have stood by him. Hardly the sign of a man with a suspect character.”

  Rheda felt trapped. She could hardly tell the woman who’d stood by her that Rufus demonstrated very little honor where she was concerned. He’d been trying to seduce her since they met, even after he’d ascertained she was in fact a lady. She pulled her hand free and gave Helen a hug. “I’m sure he’d make some woman a fine husband. Just not me.”

  “Don’t be too hasty.” Lady Hale waited for the servant to deliver the tea and leave the room. “Rufus is deeper than the face he shows Society. For instance, I know why he is really here in Kent.”

  Rheda almost dropped her cup. With shaking hands she lowered it to the saucer. She’d been correct—obtaining property was not his main objective. “He is not here to buy property then?”

  “Goodness, no. He is trying to clear his father’s name. He has been working to achieve that goal ever since his father’s death.”

  Rheda frowned. “I don’t understand. His father died almost twelve years ago. What does he hope to find?”

  Helen lowered her voice. “I’m sworn to secrecy so I cannot tell you too much. All I can say is Lady Strathmore, his mother, has high hopes that her son will shortly prove her husband’s innocence.”

  Rheda frowned. What was Rufus up to? Her mind whirled with possibilities. What on earth did Dark Shadow have to do with Rufus’s goal of clearing his father’s name? She knew nothing of what occurred all those years ago. Lady Hale must be mistaken. Or mayhap Rufus was?

  Her stomach tightened and nausea hit, making her palms sweaty. With so much at stake there was no way Rufus would give up his hunt for the smuggler, and that put the de Winter name at risk. Clearing his family’s name could well tarnish hers. She didn’t want Daniel to suffer the same fate as Rufus. If Rufus became thwarted in his goal, he might be angry enough to lash out at her family. Expose her smuggling and, worse, have her arrested. Even with the heat from the fire in the hearth, her blood ran cold. Rufus, if disappointed in his quest, might take his anger out on her. He could see her transported for crimes against the Crown.

  She knew it was time to confess all to Daniel. It wasn’t fair to keep her brother in the dark about the risk Rufus posed. Daniel’s dream was to take his rightful place in Society, and Rufus had the power to destroy that. She hadn’t sacrificed the past eight years to stand idly by and let that happen.

  Perhaps it was time to turn the tables. Perhaps she should embrace Rufus’s seduction. Let him believe she has fallen under his spell. That way she could keep him close and try to learn just what the handsome viscount was really doing in Deal.

  From the sparks igniting within her, she knew she should be careful. She was far too excited by the prospect of allowing Rufus’s seduction.

  Knowing something of the man, she should be scared. Petrified. Frightened out of her wits.

  She flashed Helen a congenial smile. “Perhaps I have been a tad hasty. To appease you, I shall reserve judgment on Rufus.” Helen clapped her hands in delight. “Wonderful. I promise I won’t interfere.” Rheda rolled her eyes. “Well, not much. It might also give Christopher the jolt he needs. It is high time my son found himself a bride. However, you, my dear, are more suited to Rufus.” She sipped her tea before adding, “I can’t wait to see their faces when they see you dressed for the ball. I’m certain you’ll have the two of them fighting over you.”

  Rheda was certain she wouldn’t. Christopher had never shown anything other than misguided duty in her. He had proposed on her father’s death, largely because of pressure from his mother. He had honorably offered his hand in marriage as a way for him to help her out of the financial mire her father had left them in. Yet, he’d never once flirted with her, or tried to kiss her. She obviously did not ignite his passions. That was one of the reasons they were such good friends. If Christopher thought of her at all, it was as a younger sister, just as she thought of him as an older brother. They were both far too sensible to do anything to destroy their mutual friendship.

  No. There would only be one man interested in her at the ball, and then only because he thought she could advance his cause. What exactly that cause was she was determined to find out. To that end she said cheerfully, “Then I’ll need a dress to die for.”

  Helen simply chuckled. “For once I feel sorry for Rufus. I do believe you’ll take him on a merry dance. I almost envy you.”

  “How so?”

  She gave a wicked smile. “I still remember what it was like when you let a handsome man catch you.”

  A pleasant tingle raced down Rheda’s spine. She sat up straighter in her chair. As long as the only catching Rufus did was for pleasure. She gritted her teeth and silently vowed he would not catch Dark Shadow.

  Chapter 14

  It was close to midnight when Rufus decided to pay an unannounced and secret visit to Tumsbury Cliff Manor. The baron could not afford a full complement of staff, and that, in all likelihood, would allow him to poke around the estate and outbuildings at his leisure. If he could only find illegal contraband, he’d have the proof he needed to arrest Daniel.

  Part of him welcomed the chance to be caught snooping. He could do with a good fight to burn off his frustration—frustration at their limited progress in uncovering a simple smuggling network, and frustration at knowing the most beautiful woman he’d met in a long time was sleeping in the house he was about to visit. He’d love to instigate a personal search of her room, of her bed, of her person. He gave a silent curse.

  He tethered Caesar a mile from the house—with mares in heat he couldn’t afford to let Caesar come any closer—and began the walk to the manor pondering what he was going to do about Rheda. Stephen had suggested he talk with her about his mission. Explain to her why it was so important they find Dark Shadow. But he’d trusted a woman once before, and it had cost him his mission and his friend’s life.

  No. Until he found evidence of Rheda’s innocence he could not afford to trust her.

  He sidled into the stable and came to an abrupt halt, freezing in the shadows. From somewhere within came the sounds of whimpering. He stood frozen against the wall. W
ho was up at this hour and why? He continued forward until he reached the first empty stall and stopped at the sight of a shape—a small shape. It couldn’t be the baron. One of Meg’s boys perhaps? The eldest helped with the horses. But surely they would be tucked up in bed by now.

  He crept farther into the dimly lit stable, and as his eyes grew accustomed to the lack of light he recognized the shape—Rheda. She was leaning against the stable wall, her head buried within her arms—sobbing. He tried to stop his heart from lurching in his chest; he was helpless when it came to women’s tears.

  “What’s happened?” he asked with barely concealed panic.

  At the sound of his voice she swung round. “Rufus! Oh, Rufus!” She flew at him, grabbed his hand, and dragged him toward the stall at the rear of the building. “It’s White Lily—please—you have to help me.”

  As they drew nearer Rufus could hear the mare’s snorts of distress.

  Rheda’s tears continued to flow although her sobs had quieted. The sticky trails of tears on her cheeks testified to her anguish.

  “Daniel is still not home, and Jamieson and Penny have been called into Seaton. Penny daughter’s gone into labor.” She gestured to White Lily who lay groaning on her side, legs thrashing, stomach heaving, froth covering her nose and mouth. “I can’t get her to stand up. She’s been lying down and standing up all day, but now she simply lies there panting and groaning. She’s been fretting since early afternoon.” Rheda’s hands clenched and unclenched. “Caesar’s mating hasn’t hurt her—has he? He seemed so large ...”

  He shook his head grimly and began to take off his heavy overcoat. “She’s got colic.”

  “Is the condition dangerous?”

  “It can be.” Trying not to show his anxiety, he ripped off his jacket and began rolling up his sleeves. “How long has she been down?”

  “This time? Not long.” She started to cry again. “I tried to get her up, but I’m not strong enough.”

  He bent down and stroked the mare’s nose. “Easy girl, we’ll make you feel better, but you have to get up for me.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to make her stand up. She could die if we don’t get her back up and walking to ease the blockage in her gut.”

  “Will we have enough strength between us?”

  “We don’t need strength—I hope.” He crouched next to White Lily’s head. “You might want to stand clear. She may kick out.” Then he took a deep breath and prayed this would work. If it didn’t he was not sure he’d have the strength to pull the mare to her feet, even with rope. Besides, that method often hurt the horse even more. “Have you any cod liver oil in the house?”

  “I’ll go see. I’m sure we do.” Rheda turned, and, lifting her skirts, she raced toward the house. He could hear her hurried footsteps on the cobblestones.

  Quickly he bent to his task. He covered White Lily’s nose with his hand and forced her mouth closed so she could not breathe. Immediately her legs started thrashing and she made to get to her feet. After an almighty struggle she stood, although she was still in palpable discomfort.

  “Come on, we need to get you walking, young lady.” And talking softly he encouraged the trembling mare out into the yard.

  Rheda’s squeal of delight made both the horse and Rufus jump. “You got her up.” She slipped around him to walk on the other side of her mare, and she held up a container. “Cod liver oil.”

  Rufus nodded. “We are going to have to do this quickly because the minute I stop walking her, White Lily will try to lie down again. But we have to tip as much of the oil down her throat as possible.”

  Rheda nodded.

  “I’ll count to three. On three you pour the oil. One—two—.”

  Rufus pulled White Lily to a halt and opened her mouth. “Three!” as Rheda poured the oil.

  The mare reared up at the taste but she stayed on her feet. The moment the oil had been administered, Rufus immediately had her walking around the yard again.

  Rheda walked with them, patting the mare and whispering to her. “Why did this happen?”

  “When did you last ride her?” he asked.

  “The night we took her to Hastingleigh. She’s been stabled since then.”

  “And before that? How long has it been since she was in a field, eating grass?”

  “At least a week. Since she came into heat.”

  Rufus eyed Rheda over the horse’s back. “The mare obviously has a tendency toward colic. She needs to be ridden every day. Every alternate day leave her in the field with no grain or hay. Let her eat grass. Too much grain will cause this condition. Less grain, more grass, and regular exercise should keep her colic at bay.”

  Rheda raised anguish-filled eyes to him. “It’s my fault she’s in such pain, isn’t it?”

  Rufus shook his head. “No.”

  She gave a sob and covered her face with her hands. “I thought I could do this. I thought I could run my own horse stud. But look what I’ve done to White Lily. She’s in so much pain.”

  “If any woman can run her own horse stud it’s you.” Where had that affirmation come from? It made it sound as though he actually admired her. “She must have been showing symptoms for most of the day. Why did you not ask for help earlier? If I had been here I would have recognized the symptoms and it needn’t have progressed this far.”

  Expression leeched from her face, as if shutters had come down. “I find most men expect something in return for their help. I’m surprised you helped me without setting conditions.”

  Her quiet answer hit him like a physical blow. Was she right? Would he have used her distress to force her to confess? In a heartbeat. So why hadn’t he? In the silence that followed, he held her defiant stare, afraid to face the reasons why he’d let this opportunity to force her confession slip by.

  “I’m not like most men. One day you’ll learn you can trust me. You can’t live your life trusting in no one. Everyone needs help at some point.”

  But this beautiful cynic didn’t believe him, though her faint smile seemed to express gratitude for his help. Her words came slowly. Carefully. “I am in your debt, Rufus. Thank you. White Lily’s one half of my entire breeding stock. If I lose her—”

  “Your dreams crumble?”

  She nodded. “But what’s worse, she is in such agony I can hardly bear it. How am I going to manage when something does go wrong and I lose an animal? It will happen at some stage, won’t it—won’t it?”

  “You’ll manage. You’re tough.”

  “Like you?”

  Rufus gave a hollow laugh. “I’m not tough. If I was, I’d not care what people said about my father.” If I was, he added silently, I’d not have sacrificed so much of my life running after the truth. If his father was guilty, it would mean the man he’d called his sire was a stranger to him.

  They continued to walk White Lily in silence. Around and around the yard.

  He could feel Rheda’s eyes on him, searching his face. Finally she broke the silence. “Were you at Hastingleigh when your father died?”

  An arrow, dipped in guilt, hit him squarely in his chest. “No. I should have been.”

  Her eyes widened. “Do you think you could have prevented his death, or prevented his supposed treason?”

  He eyed her sharply. “Supposed? You don’t believe the rumors?”

  She stroked White Lily’s mane. “No, I don’t. Christopher vigorously defends your father. He swears the late Lord Strathmore would never have sold out the French aristocracy.”

  The tight band encircling his chest eased slightly. “My father was a good man. He had many friends among the French nobility, and he would never have done anything to cause them harm.” He paused and drew a breath. “The idea that he would sell their escape routes to the Revolutionary Council is ludicrous. We certainly didn’t need the money. That was the first thing I noticed, when, on his death, I reviewed the account ledgers. Even if I’d never earned anything off our assets
ever again, there was enough money to last several lifetimes.”

  “Then how did the rumor start?”

  He pulled on White Lily’s halter as she tried to momentarily slow down. “I have no idea. Lord Ashford found a document in my father’s pocket. I still firmly believe it was planted there.”

  “I don’t understand. Who would want to implicate your father?”

  He raised an eyebrow. “The real traitor, for one. I have only recently learned that was the reason Lord Ashford was at Hastingleigh on that fateful day. He’d had a tip-off. Of course he wasn’t the Foreign Secretary then. He was with British Intelligence.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and her lip slipped between her teeth as she pondered his words. “Is that why you are here in Kent? To hunt for your father’s killer. It happened so long ago. What do you hope to find now?”

  He smiled. Rheda lifted her chin, standing like a marble Aphrodite, glimmering in the moonlight, impervious to the dangers lurking around her, daring him to answer. He tenderly reached across the mare and tucked an errant strand of curl behind her ear, his voice oddly gruff. “I am looking for the truth, Rhe. Will you help me find it?”

  Would she? Could she? The terrifying thing was how much she wanted to do so. The obnoxious, belligerent rake was easy to resist. But this side of Rufus, the generous, tender side, frightened her.

  She could never repay his kindness from tonight. He could have ruthlessly forced the truth from her—he knew how much her horses meant to her. But he was behaving honorably, and at no small inconvenience to himself, he was helping her.

  Even worse, his vulnerability when he’d talked about his father made her want to cradle him to her bosom, as she did with Connor after a bad dream.

  Now he was talking to her as if she were his equal. He wasn’t demanding, bullying, or seducing her. He was simply asking for her help.

  They continued around the yard in silence. She couldn’t stop stealing breathless little glances at him, tall and virile in his rolled-up sleeves and open-collared shirt. His face was a mask of concern for her mare, making her wish for just a moment that his soft whispers and gentle caresses were not only for White Lily.