The Seduction of Scandal (Scandals and Seductions 5)

by Cathy Maxwell

  “And we shall keep him away,” the major assured everyone.

  “I met him,” Dame Janet’s roué of a husband announced. “Robbed me. Took all I had in my pocket. I was quite frightened.”

  “Why?” Lady Landsdowne wanted to know. “I’ve never met a highwayman. This could be exciting,” she said to her husband.

  “I’d rather keep my money in my pocket,” he responded.

  “Sir Felix is correct. He is frightful,” Mrs. Rhys-Morton assured her. “He robbed the squire. I’ve never seen my husband white-faced, but he was on that occasion.”

  “What does he look like?” Corinne’s mother asked.

  “That is the difficulty,” Sir Felix informed her. “He wears a mask. It’s a sack over his head with two holes cut out. You wouldn’t find it scary just to see it laying on that table there, but on his head, he is most horrifying.”

  “It’s his horse,” Squire Rhys-Morton deigned to answer, wiping his mouth with his napkin and setting it aside, a sign he’d finally finished his meal. “The animal is as black as night. Solid black and the biggest beast I’ve ever laid my eyes on. His nostrils are red from his snorting and his hooves are sharp and ready to take a man out. Some think they are ghosts—”

  “What swill,” Lord Bossley declared.

  “Ghosts of whom?” Corinne had to ask.

  “The Black Thorn,” Mrs. Rhys-Morton answered. “He was a reiver who plied his trade all through this area dressed just like this highwayman dresses. That is why the locals refer to him as the Thorn. They believe he has come back to life from the dead.”

  “Was the first Thorn captured?” Lady Landsdowne asked.

  “Not according to the legend,” Major Ashcroft answered.

  “Let us not forget,” Lord Bossley said, his voice overriding the others, “that our current Thorn is also a murderer. Ah, see, ladies, I thought that would change your romantic notions of him.”

  “Who did he murder?” Corinne wanted to know.

  “Please, my lord,” Lady Bossley said, “this is not a fit conversation for the dinner table.”

  “But we want to hear,” Lady Landsdowne said.

  Lord Bossley ignored his wife. “He is responsible for the murder of one Simon Porledge. A good man who often performed small errands for me and my steward.”

  “Why did he kill him?” the duke of Banfield asked.

  “We surmise that the Thorn wanted to rob poor Porledge, who was known to drink whatever coin he had. When the highwayman found Porledge did not have money, he exacted a revenge.”

  Shudders went around the table until Sir Felix chimed in, “He was gracious to me. Reminded me of robbers in my day. Gentlemen all.”

  “And on that note, perhaps the ladies should leave the men to their port,” Lord Bossley said, a hint of tension in his voice.

  “Yes, we must leave the men to their port,” Lady Bossley echoed and rose, a signal for the female guests to join her in the reception room for tea before the warmth of the fire.

  The men did not linger over drinks but quickly joined the women. Freddie was decidedly the worse for wear. He was now at the point of fixing brooding stares upon Corinne. She stayed close to her father, who was not one to stay up late.

  The duke thanked the earl for an entertaining evening, laughingly warned those leaving to “beware the Thorn,” and took up to his bed, Corinne and her mother accompanying him. Freddie had nodded off in a chair by the fire.

  Corinne was happy to escape. However, once she was in her room, she regretted it.

  For obvious reasons, her maid Sybil was no longer there. The bed was still mussed from the lovemaking. The sheets had not been changed, and no one had laid out Corinne’s bedclothes.

  Her parents were wrong if they thought she was going to make peace with being Freddie’s wife. She walked over to the window. Her room overlooked the back garden. She could hear coaches pulling away. She wished she could go with one of them. A highwayman didn’t frighten her half as much as Freddie did.

  And if there was a way out, she vowed she would take it. She looked up at the full moon, wishing she’d been someplace else. Anywhere else.

  A movement not far from the side of the house caught her attention.

  Major Ashcroft stepped out of the night’s shadows, dressed in a cape for travel. He signaled someone, and a moment later, a coach and pair, the torch lights lit for travel, pulled up in front of him. He returned inside.

  Funny that the major hadn’t mentioned he was traveling this evening. He didn’t strike Corinne as the sort who would take a coach back to his command. He must have been planning to go some distance.

  Curiosity bade her keep a vigil on the coach. The driver jumped down from the box. He was joined by an armed guard, but little else happened.

  All became quiet.

  Bored, Corinne turned back to her room. She wasn’t going to sleep in that bed. She didn’t even want to sleep in the room, but given the number of guests spending the night, she doubted if there was another one available.

  She pulled two chairs together. They might work for a bed, at least for the night. She’d see about changing rooms in the morning.

  Of course, what she really needed was a distraction. A book would be nice.

  A glance around the room told her there wasn’t one close at hand. However, Lord Bossley had a huge library. Certainly there was something she would enjoy on his shelves. She didn’t worry overmuch about Freddie, because there still should be enough people up and about. She would definitely be locking her door after she returned.

  Downstairs, Freddie was no longer asleep in the chair before the fire.

  The sounds of the servants cleaning the dining room drifted toward her as she walked to the library. Her assumption that there would be more activity from the guests was proving incorrect.

  Cautious now, Corinne went to the library.

  Wood paneling and books deadened all sound in the spacious, well-appointed room. A welcoming fire was in the grate and several lamps had been lit. She went to the shelves, pulled down a book, and immediately put it back. It was in Greek. She moved along the shelves, taking another and finding it not to her liking either.

  At last she came upon a book about botanicals in Barbados. This might have been interesting. Over the last summer, she’d discovered a passion for gardening. She’d just opened the book when she heard a footstep in the hall.

  Fearing it could be Freddie, she started to close the book, when a piece of paper fell out. Picking it up and realizing it was a page from a record of some sort, she tucked the paper back in the book and shoved the volume back in its place on the shelf. Deciding discretion was wiser than bravado, she sought to hide her presence until she knew who was coming.

  Thick, heavy draperies framed the window, any child’s favorite hidey-hole, and Corinne took advantage of them now. She pulled back the one nearest the bookcase—and came face-to-face with the Reverend Norwich.

  Chapter Three

  “What are you doing here?” Corinne demanded in a furious whisper.

  “Avoiding you,” Mr. Norwich shot back. He came out from behind the drapes, obviously embarrassed at having been caught.

  Corinne didn’t have time for discussion. Whoever was out in the hall was coming closer. She took his place and let the draperies fall into place just as she heard Lord Bossley’s voice.

  “Will, what are you doing in the library?” he asked with mild surprise.

  “Looking for that book on the Reformation,” Reverend Norwich answered.

  “Good heavens, why?” Lord Bossley said. “Sounds deadly dull.”

  “I have a question in my mind about it.”

  Corinne was feeling a bit silly standing behind the draperies now that she knew it was Lord Bossley and not Freddie who had alarmed her. But then, what could she do? To step out would
be awkward . . . and a bit compromising, since the clergyman would appear to have been alone with her.

  Apparently he thought the same, since he didn’t give her up.

  “The things you think about,” Lord Bossley said to his foster son, sounding bemused. “Did you find the book?”

  “Um, no, I think I may have already borrowed it and have it at the rectory.”

  “Ah, the location of a good number of my books,” Lord Bossley pointed out.

  “I’ll bring them back, I will,” Mr. Norwich promised.

  “I await the day.”

  “Well, then,” the reverend said, his voice moving away from Corinne. “I’ll bid you good night?”

  “Good night,” Lord Bossley answered. “Take care riding home.”

  “You know Roman. I point him in the direction of his feed bucket and he goes.”

  “At a snail’s pace. How old is that horse?” Lord Bossley wondered. “He has to be ancient.”

  “Seventeen, and still the best mount I’ve ever had.”

  “He’s fortunate he has you. I would have shot him two years ago.”

  Corinne frowned. She was obsessively fond of animals, especially horses. She knew most didn’t like feeding anything that couldn’t earn its way, but she disliked the practice of tossing an animal aside as if it had no feelings or didn’t deserve a reward for faithful service.

  “He has good life in him,” Mr. Norwich said.

  “If you like riding swaybacked,” his lordship observed.

  “He could surprise you.” This time his voice seemed to come from the doorway.

  “I doubt it,” was the dry rejoinder.

  The reverend must have left then, because there was silence save for the movements of Lord Bossley at his desk. Corinne shifted her weight from one foot to the other, feeling very silly. A drawer was opened and closed. There was the scrape of metal. She longed to spy out the edge of the drape and see what was going on, but she didn’t dare.

  A moment later, she was happy she hadn’t when she heard the library door close and Major Ashcroft’s voice say, “A horse pulled up lame. We must change out the team if we are driving straight to London.”

  Lord Bossley swore softly. “I hate delays. Are the other teams set up along the road?”

  “Yes, my lord. All arrangements have been made.”

  “This package must be delivered to Lord Tarrington by tomorrow noon. I do not want it left out of your sight.”

  “It will be delivered to his lordship. You have my word upon it.”

  But apparently that wasn’t enough. “What about outriders?” Lord Bossley sounded anxious. Corinne wished she could see the package he wanted to have delivered.

  “They aren’t necessary. I will ride in the coach with one of my men. Two more will be up with the driver. I’m not worried about the Thorn, if that is what you are suggesting, my lord. My men are patrolling the road in this county and their presence is a better deterrent than any outriders. If the Thorn is still in the area and does manage to stop us, he will be shot. I’ll fire the bullet myself.”

  “I don’t want to lose this money to that bastard,” Lord Bossley responded. “He’s uncanny. He seems to know everything that is going on in the shire. And that old rake Felix can complain about being robbed, but what the Thorn wants is this shipment. For whatever reason, he has singled me out. Only one of these has made it through over the past six months. Williams is decidedly testy.”

  “I understand my mission, my lord. The Thorn is nothing more than an irritating black fly who has stumbled into what he knows not. I shall end him. It will be quick and ruthless. You have my word on that.”

  “I never forget a favor, Major.”

  “I merely serve, my lord . . . however, I pray you remember my service when your star rises.”

  “I shall. And now, you’d best be on the road if the ruse to make you and your men appear to be my departing guests is to be successful.”

  “The lads are changing the horses now,” the major answered.

  “Then go on with you. Godspeed, and don’t fail me.”

  “I will not, my lord.”

  There was the sound of the officer leaving the room. A moment later, the butler came by to inform the earl that the last party of guests was leaving. “I’ll be right there,” Lord Bossley answered. “Hold them for me.”

  He took a moment more and then left the room, shutting the library door behind him.

  Corinne didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath until she released it. She stepped out from behind the draperies, her mind active with possibilities. Eavesdropping was wickedly rude but, in this case, enticing. Something was afoot. A grand mystery.

  She thought she’d heard of Lord Tarrington before. She might even have met him. What was so important to deliver to him that Lord Bossley would go to such lengths?

  Preoccupied with the puzzle of Lord Bossley’s actions, she moved to the door and was startled when Freddie opened it. He grinned, as if he’d been looking for her.

  “How nice to finally have a moment alone, my lady. I believe we need a little chat about how cold you were toward me over dinner. And how I shall not tolerate it again.” He took a step into the room.

  Corinne stood her ground. “Stop right there,” she ordered, her voice low.

  “Here?” Freddie asked, a teasing light in his eyes and a madcap smile on his face. He took another step toward her. “Or here?”

  He was so close that she could smell the sourness of his breath.

  She forced herself to look up at him. She was a tall woman and almost looked him in the eye. “There are many who believe you are handsome,” she said. “But in this moment, I find you the most disgusting, ugliest man of my acquaintance.”

  If her insult offended him, he hid it behind that insane smile. “I shall look forward to teaching you manners when you become my wife.”

  Corinne could scream in outrage over the title. “Why do you want me so much, especially knowing I have grown to detest you?”

  Freddie shrugged. “I don’t know. Perhaps it’s the challenge. But I do want you, Corinne. To have what no one else has been able to claim. Everyone is already envious because you will be mine . . .” He leaned forward.

  Realizing he meant to kiss her, she placed a hand against his chest. “We are not married yet,” she reminded him.

  “Why wait?” he mumbled and opened his mouth, his hands coming to her waist, where he grabbed her dress to hold her in place.

  The only kisses Corinne had ever experienced had been pecks on the cheek from brothers and sisters, cousins, maiden aunts, and, occasionally, her parents. The closest she had allowed any gentleman, including Freddie, had been her gloved hand—and if he thought she was about to let his wide-open maw anyplace close to her body, he was wrong.

  She jerked her head away. He laughed, moved closer. She had to escape. Her hand found the side table behind her and began searching for something she could hit him with. Then again, she knew he was prepared for her to pull away. What if she moved closer—

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Reverend Norwich’s voice said from the doorway.

  The man was a godsend. His arrival gave her the time she needed to duck under Freddie’s arm and escape. She brushed past the clergyman and walked out into the hall.

  “Damn you, Will,” she heard Freddie swear. She stopped, curious as to the reverend’s response.

  “I didn’t know you would be wooing in the library,” Reverend Norwich commented, unapologetic.

  “Still, it must put the frost on it for you, having lusted for her for so long and now knowing she will be mine.”

  “I didn’t notice you were making headway,” Mr. Norwich replied. Corinne doubled her fist and gave a glad little punch in the air that the foster brother had stood up for himself.

>   Freddie was a bully, and she did not like bullies.

  Worse, she didn’t like men who laid in wait for her. At Glenhoward, Freddie acted like the son of some medieval warlord who freely took any wench he pleased.

  Corinne could go to her parents with her complaints again—but to what purpose? They were intent on handing her over to him on a silver platter.

  How she wished she hadn’t been there. . . .

  The moment she had the thought, an idea struck her that was so daring, so outrageous that she almost refused it.

  But it wouldn’t go away.

  What if she wasn’t here? What if she disappeared? At least until after the wedding. It could not take place without her.

  Where would she go?

  Her sister Belinda might be of help. She could take her in. Or not.

  Belinda’s marriage wasn’t a happy one. She might be sympathetic to Corinne’s plight. At one time the sisters had been close, but over the past few years, they had drifted apart, and Belinda would certainly not like Corinne involving her in such a scandal, because a scandal it would be.

  One didn’t run away from any marriage, let alone a wedding to which everyone of importance had been invited.

  Or did one?

  Corinne thought of the scandals she knew about just over the past year. There had been a lady who had left her husband for her horse master. Another wife had gone off to the Continent with some rake. She couldn’t recall hearing of any young woman of her age and rank running from marriage, but truly wasn’t she just applying common sense? She hated embarrassing her family, but why wait until she was married to run away? Wouldn’t that be an even bigger scandal?

  Before she could change her mind, Corinne slipped into the dining room and found her way to the butler’s pantry. There had to be a servant’s door here leading to the outside and the side of the house where she’d seen Major Ashcroft’s coach.

  Corinne didn’t have time to pack belongings, and she didn’t want to do so. If she reasoned her plan out too much, she’d change her mind. There were too many pitfalls, too many questions—and yet the excitement suddenly flowing through her veins told her she was making the right decision.