Invitation to Scandal

by Bronwen Evans

  There was only a slight hesitation before he stroked her hair and said, “I suggest you tell me everything, Rhe. There are not many things a man like me cannot fix.”

  So, like a sinner in a confessional, Rheda told him everything. She confessed that she was Dark Shadow, about Rufus’s hunt for the smuggler to catch a spy, and about her fall from grace last night in Rufus’s bed because he’d thought the scandal with Prince Hammed was true. And finally about how much she loved Rufus and how she had to set him free so he could restore the Strathmore name. “Now he wants to do the honorable thing and marry me, and I can’t let that happen. It will ruin him. Imagine me in London, pretending to be a lady.”

  Christopher had gone as still as one of the statues decorating his extensive gardens. His arms had tightened around her until she could barely breathe. So she was not sure how he’d taken her confession of sharing Rufus’s bed. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

  They sat in silence for what seemed like hours but must have been only moments.

  “You never did tell me why Prince Hammed gave you your Arab horses. I suppose it doesn’t really matter now.”

  She pressed Christopher’s hand against her cheek. “I shall never forget that you believed in me when everyone shunned me.” She took a deep breath. “He gave me the horses as a gift for saving his sister’s life. She almost drowned while swimming, but I happened along and managed to save her.”

  Christopher laughed and pulled her to her feet. “I never doubted you then, and I don’t doubt all you have told me now. If you really don’t wish to marry Lord Strathmore, although I would be remiss if I didn’t point out what a catch the man is, then I would still be honored to make you my wife.” And he bent and placed a chaste kiss on her knuckles.

  Rheda frowned. Why would a man of Christopher’s breeding and wealth wish to marry a woman who was no longer pure, could be pregnant with another man’s child, had no dowry, and confessed to love another?

  She shook her head vigorously. This was wrong. Her idea was despicable. She was caught, and dishonor would be the outcome either way. Rufus’s family would suffer if he married her. And Christopher would be lumbered with a wife who loved another. There had to be another way.

  “I can’t let you sacrifice yourself for me, either. I seem to be sadly lacking in honor today. I think the best thing would be for me to simply slip away. If I disappear, eventually the scandal will die down, and Daniel could go on to marry well and succeed in his dreams for his barony. He’s is still young, and marriage can wait a few years.”

  “But what of me, Rhe? What will I do without you?”

  She finally looked at him. His face was solemn and his pale blue eyes seemed so sad. She couldn’t help cupping his cheek. “Christopher, you underestimate your charm. You are a wealthy earl and could have your pick of young debutantes. You don’t want me.”

  He gave her a wan smile. “I know what I am, Rheda. The bumbling idiot, that’s what you all call me.”

  Rheda felt heat flush her cheeks. She did think of him as a bit of a buffoon. “You are the gentlest and kindest and most honorable man I know—”

  He became very animated and pulled her close to whisper in her ear. “Then marry me. Can you imagine me being happy with a young debutante? You know I am a man of simple pleasures. I don’t like London. We may not have a burning passion for each other, but we have a strong friendship and mutual admiration.” He placed a gentle kiss on her lips. “I wouldn’t want you to change in any way when you become my wife. I’d take you as you are. That’s the Rhe I know and love.”

  Her eyes welled with tears, so overcome with his heartfelt words. She stepped back out of his embrace. Perhaps he was right. Perhaps friendship and mutual admiration would be enough. At least Christopher was not ashamed of who and what she was. He’d take the good with the bad. Unlike Rufus who expected a paragon of virtue as a wife.

  Rufus—why did she have to love a man who would never love her? A man who wanted a perfection that did not exist. Could she marry and share Christopher’s bed while her heart belonged to another. Her head pounded from lack of sleep, and the confusion that assaulted her body made her nauseous and weepy.

  “Thank you, Christopher, for your honorable offer. I will seriously consider it, but I need to talk with Daniel first.”

  “I am sure Daniel would welcome the match.”

  “What about your mother?”

  Christopher smiled, and his eyes lit up. “Mother adores you. She need not know the circumstances behind your acceptance. If I am happy, Mother will be happy. And if you marry me, I’d be the happiest man alive.”

  Impulsively, she reached up and kissed his lips. To her surprise he stiffened and pulled back. If she’d kissed Rufus, he’d have pulled her hard into his embrace and kissed her until she had no breath and could barely stand. They would both have been caught up in a wild passion that neither could deny.

  She backed away, immediately feeling ashamed of her boldness. “My apologies. I am too impulsive sometimes.”

  He pulled her roughly back into his arms and kissed her. “Never apologize to me. You took me by surprise that is all.” He let her go and turned her toward Tumsbury Cliffs. “Go. Find your brother. I shall go and prepare to deal with Rufus and his men. I may be a bumbling idiot, but I think I know how to handle Revenue men. We shall ensure your smuggling activities do not see the light of day.”

  Her mind was whirling as she made her way back to the manor. Was she doing the right thing? Christopher had seemed so earnest, but she’d always sworn she’d never marry a man who did not love her. Was Christopher’s admiration enough?

  She was too tired to think. One minute she wanted to do the right thing and set Rufus free, the next she wanted to grab his offer of marriage and every other part of him, and damn the consequences. Having any small piece of him in her life would be better than never seeing him at all.

  But would it? He despised her and had all but admitted he would lock her away. He would continue his life as if nothing had changed. The thought of him with other women ... women sharing his bed, a mistress sharing his life, while she was punished and shut away, hurt so much she almost collapsed on the ground.

  Think, Rheda. What is the best outcome for all concerned? For her brother? Daniel wouldn’t care who she married as long as she did. However, she hoped he’d prefer Christopher as it would keep her near to him.

  Rufus would probably drop to his knees and thank God if she chose Christopher. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to cry.

  What of Christopher? He seemed very sincere.

  What do you want, Rheda? popped into her befuddled brain. She was too tired and too hot to understand why the thought of giving up Rufus seemed the worst course of action when she’d sworn never to marry a man who did not love her.

  With a sigh she rubbed her aching temples. What she really wanted right now was to cool down. She turned toward the cliff tops. A swim. She needed a brisk dip to clear her mind. Then she’d find Daniel.

  Rufus moved toward the cliff, wanting to clear his mind and body of the scent, taste, and memory of Rheda. She needed a chance to sleep. Besides she was well guarded and would be waiting for him on his return. He’d left the manor and headed to the coast. He did not know what he hoped to find, but surely the smugglers would have left some imprint, some clue to where the boat had landed.

  He had just made it back up to the cliff tops from one of the smaller coves when his eye caught a splash of blue. He ducked behind some bushes and waited to see who was about.

  “What the bloody devil ... ?” He cursed under his breath. It was Rheda. Without any escorts. Where were his men?

  A crafty smile broke over his lips. She thought she’d given everyone the slip. He would follow her and see who she met. With any luck she’d lead him directly to Daniel. He refused to admit that the tension invading his frame was fear. Fear she was meeting someone a lot worse than Daniel—a spy. A man whose relationship would see her
pretty neck stretched on the gallows.

  Could he live with the knowledge he’d sent her there? He almost dropped to his knees with the pain that lanced his chest. He couldn’t bear the thought of Rheda being hurt. He wanted to protect her. His name could do that. He had to marry her.

  Rheda did not appear to be in a hurry. He made sure to keep a distance between them so she would not see him. He trailed her to the cliff tops. Then she suddenly seemed to vanish into thin air.

  His heart leaped into his throat, and a cold chill skittered down his back. Had his frigid demeanor pushed her too far? Had she thrown herself off the cliffs? He raced to the cliff’s rim just in time to see her winding her way down a hidden path to what looked like a small cove below.

  He’d found her secret swimming hole.

  His blood heated, and his body reacted to the thought of a naked Rheda swimming in the sea. Her body glistening wet, her nipples hard from the cold sea water. His groin throbbed with the desire to see this goddess in all her natural beauty once more.

  He did not even hesitate to follow her. What harm could there be? His mood brightened at the thought of being able to catch her vulnerable and naked.

  He found a ledge a short way down the winding path and settled in to enjoy the view. He felt like a voyeur, yet something drove him to remain hidden. A woman had fooled him in the past, and he wanted to see if she was playing him false. His honor meant he would overlook her smuggling, but treason—never. Not with his father named as a traitor. He could not afford to have his name linked to another suspected spy. He’d never prayed so hard. Not treason. Please, not treason.

  He sat with his back against the cliff, his long legs out in front, one foot crossed over the other, feeling the tension tightening his shoulders. There was no way she was going to escape him. This path was the only access from the cove. When he’d looked his fill, he would join her on the sand and ... He drew a deep breath and tried to calm his roaring libido.

  Every nerve ending hummed as he soaked in the wild natural beauty before him. The sand was pristine, the color of dried hay in midsummer, a polished gold. The sea as smooth as glass, the color reflecting the light blue of the sky, with sparkling, sun-induced diamonds dancing across the sleek surface.

  But what truly drew his gaze with ardent fascination was the fair-haired nymph standing like a pagan goddess at the water’s edge.

  Ripples of tiny waves were lapping at the bare feet poking from beneath her light muslin gown, while her slippers dangled from the fingers of her tiny hand. Rheda’s opulent tresses fell in ringlets down her back, her head lifted as if in worship to the sun.

  She looked so—young. So innocent in her freedom. He could almost believe she was not party to treachery. That she was not the renowned smuggler aiding England’s enemies.

  If he lived to be a hundred, Rufus knew he would never fully come to know this woman. It left him wary. Her energy, drive, and audacity knew no boundaries. She’d managed to set up one of the most successful smuggling operations in Southern England, aiding not only her but the women of the village, while avoiding selling herself in marriage. She’d remained her own person, bound to no one and proud of it. She didn’t care that she’d given up her position in Society. She could have taken London by storm, making an excellent match for herself and aiding Daniel, but freedom meant more to her.

  He understood that desire more than anyone. The freedom to be oneself. How could he fault her for achieving the one thing he’d dreamed of most of his adult life?

  For one short moment jealousy ate at his soul. He envied her the simplicity of her life. He couldn’t afford such luxury. He had a mother and a sister to protect. If not for them he would have been free to pursue his desires, even pursue a woman like Rheda ...

  He almost let out a startled gasp. Like Rheda—he’d never once in his life thought of a woman as being perfect for him. Something had changed. Women had simply been vessels for enjoyment, satiation, and pleasure. He always knew eventually he’d marry in order to produce an heir. He’d marry for duty and to protect his family name. Never once had he let himself have false hope that a marriage would be more. Hope of finding that one special woman—a woman who made his soul sing and his heart soar.

  He thought back three months ago to Anthony and Melissa’s wedding day. The couple appeared radiant as they stood at the altar, engrossed in each other. As Rufus watched the service, he’d never seen a man so content and a woman so loved.

  Rufus hadn’t understood the feeling churning in his gut as they’d said their vows. He hadn’t realized that it was envy streaking through every fiber of his being, followed by intense regret that he’d never find such bliss with Clare. He’d marry for his family, and the unfairness of that had almost been more than he could bear.

  Rheda bent to run her fingers through the waves. A fierce need ripped through him as he watched her. She was his. He’d been her first lover, and a possessive hunger to be her last sank deep into his heart, branding him deep in his soul.

  He admired her inner strength. To save a bankrupt estate, singlehandedly, from the age of seventeen was a feat most men could not achieve.

  A warm pride flowed through his bloodstream at the thought he’d been the first man to unleash her passions. Yet the scene she’d set for him in the bathing tub was worthy of an experienced courtesan. His fists clenched thinking of how he’d lost control and with no thought to the consequences to his family, he’d taken what his body craved.

  Five years ago Marguerite had bedazzled him, too. His own vanity coupled with her beauty and apparent desire fooled him into believing she loved him. Yet all the while Marguerite was working for the French. He’d been such an easy target, so desperate to learn anything of his father. So eager to have someone love him despite knowing of his father’s sin.

  Rufus closed his eyes on the haunting memories. His gullibility had cost the life of his friend and partner. He vividly recalled Andrew lying dead at his feet, while all he’d been able to do was sink to his knees, gripping the dagger stuck in his own side. Marguerite’s final insult had been to blow him a kiss as she galloped off.

  Three years’ work destroyed because he could not see past a sweet face, soft words, and pretty lies.

  The hackles on his nape flexed. Never again would he let a woman trifle with him.

  Use him. Humiliate him. Betray him.

  Never.

  He would not become bedazzled by Rheda. Damn the minx. He did not want to have this burning heat and desperate need inside of him.

  He stood and took a steadying breath. He stepped down onto the sand. He would not lose. Not again.

  As he made his way across the sand he heard a sound that froze him in his tracks. Her shoulders were hunched and her body shook. Rheda was quietly sobbing.

  He stood motionless ... a woman’s tears.

  Rheda sank to her knees and began sobbing in earnest. Loud wrenching sobs that caused his chest to contract.

  “Don’t cry.” He spoke before he could stop himself.

  She looked up through wet eyelashes and tried to stifle a sob.

  He knelt down next to her and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Everything will be all right. I give you my word. Daniel will come to no harm if he is as innocent as you say.”

  Chapter 20

  She closed her eyes wearily. “Everything is such a mess. I only needed until the end of summer and I could have finished with Dark Shadow for good. No one would have been the wiser. Now ...”

  “There is no need for anyone to know about Dark Shadow. All I want is the spy.”

  She swallowed hard. “What if you don’t find the spy?”

  “I’ll find him.” His voice held a savage edge. “I’ll not stop looking until I do.”

  “You’ll need Dark Shadow’s help until he’s caught. Won’t you?”

  He sat on the sand beside her, his arms resting on his bent knees. He was silent, staring out over the water for what seemed like ages. Would he answer her?r />
  “I never wanted to work for the government.”

  “Then why do you?”

  “As you are learning, life is full of consequences.”

  “What did you wish to do with your life?”

  He gave a wry smile. “We have something in common. Remember? I told you. I wanted to breed the finest racehorses in all of England.”

  She ran her fingers through the sand. “I’d loved to have done that, too, but they won’t let women enter horses in the General Stud Book at Weatherby’s. So breeding cavalry horses was my only choice. What stopped you?”

  He ran his hand through his hair. “My father’s death.”

  She stared long and hard at Rufus. “Finding this traitor is personal to you, isn’t it?”

  A muscle in his jaw clenched. “The spy could be my salvation.”

  “I don’t understand. How?”

  “I’m hoping the spy can reveal the truth about something that occurred many years ago, or at least tell me who would know.”

  She sat up and declared in wonder, “You want to prove your father innocent.”

  His head lowered and he sighed. “Yes. But it’s also about me. I need to atone for my failure. I should have been with him on the day he died.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “The late Lord Hale, and indeed Lady Hale, always spoke so highly of your father. They did not believe he was guilty of aiding the French. Is that not enough?”

  He ground his teeth, as if striving for control. “I just need to know the truth. Was the father I worshipped a traitor? Was my upbringing a complete lie? It’s the not knowing that kills me.”

  She saw the despair in his eyes. She laid her hand over his heart. “You know the answer to that. Deep inside, you know.”

  His gaze flew to hers. He sucked in an audible breath. “God, you’re right.” He thumped the sand. “I know he was innocent, and I owe it to him to expose the perpetrators of such a lie.”

  “I can’t imagine spending so many years of my life chasing a truth I already know to be true. It seems such a waste—”