Duke of Scandal

by Adele Ashworth

  She gazed up to his face for a moment, her brow pinched into a delicate frown. “Indeed, you do.”

  An uncomfortable moment reigned supreme. The tension in the air fairly crackled, threatening to match the tautness of every muscle in his body. He squeezed his hands into fists at his sides and then flexed them again. Olivia watched him, certainly concerned by his lack of charming conversation, and yet she could never know the difficulty it took for him to remain where he stood and not leave the scene without another thought or word to either of them. As shameful as it was to consider it, he had to take note of the fact that beneath all the deception he witnessed at this moment, he still hadn’t completely discounted the fact that Olivia could be part of it. She could lust after him, kiss him with perfection, and still deceive him. He’d learned that lesson years ago, strangely enough from her deceitful aunt Claudette. He had trouble believing the intimate time they’d just shared could be anything less than a real display of feeling on her part, but there remained a chance that the three of them were playing him for a fool—and underhandedly vying for his money.

  Still, if she truly were innocent at the hands of two very cruel people, she deserved justice, and there was no better person to give it to her than the brother of the man who set her up for ruin.

  He cleared his throat and nodded once, lifting his arm toward the woman who had betrayed him all those years ago.

  “Well. Dearest Aunt, now that you have arrived to grace us with your lovely company, it would be my utmost pleasure if you’d consent to dancing with me.”

  He could feel Olivia’s stunned gaze fall upon him, and because of his confusion over this incredible turn of events, he couldn’t even look at her. That, he decided, troubled him most of all.

  Claudette beamed at the suggestion and placed her well-manicured palm on his jacket sleeve. “It would be my pleasure, dearest nephew.” Leading him away, she added over her shoulder, “Perhaps you could use the time to freshen yourself, Olivia. You seem a bit palled. I’ll take it from here and keep your husband entertained for a while.”

  And then Claudette, ever in control, led him down the balcony path toward the French doors and into the ballroom, Olivia following closely behind, her gaze burning a hole in his back.

  Chapter 11

  The shock of seeing her again was beginning to wear off; a good thing, as he needed to remain focused to keep the pretense alive. Claudette hadn’t yet realized his identity, or at least he didn’t think she had. But there was no telling how long the ruse could last. True, he hadn’t seen her in a decade, though beyond the undeniable fact of her intelligence, she was cunning and manipulative by nature, expecting insincerity in others, and she prided herself on finding it. Now, as she clung to his arm, her blond hair piled high on her head and brushing against his chin, her perfume invaded his nostrils with the pungent scent of roses.

  Roses. Claudette always wore roses, and it would remain the scent he’d forever identify with her. The odor fairly nauseated him now, especially when coupled with the thick fog of smoke and stuffy heat that permeated the ballroom. The crowd had grown, slowing their progress toward the dance floor, but she would expect him to socialize with her, pretend with her. And with so much at stake, he decided he needed to be more than convincing. He needed to be Edmund tonight.

  “You smell wonderful,” he leaned over to whisper in her ear.

  She tipped her head up and gave him a knowing smile. “Darling, Edmund. Ever the flatterer.”

  “Only when it’s warranted,” he admitted with an ease and a natural grin that almost astonished him.

  She laughed. “Let’s dance, darling. We have much to discuss.”

  Her jovial attitude expressed a mood he knew she didn’t feel. It had been years, but he could still read her temperament like a book. She was livid at his appearance tonight, and jealous of Olivia, which he found both oddly amusing and suspicious. That she still carried on some sort of relationship with his brother was obvious, though the extent or limit of that relationship was anyone’s guess.

  Finally they reached the center of the ballroom floor, and without a word or hesitation, he turned and swept the woman who was once his lover, the woman who had caused such a scandal in his life all those years ago, into his arms. It took her no time to come to the point.

  With a false smile planted firmly on her painted mouth, she stared at him directly. “Why are you back in Paris? You can’t possibly be finished with the Govance heiress.”

  He wished he knew who the “Govance heiress” was, and where she lived. But Claudette’s question did tell him that Edmund had been sent from the city to do her bidding, and probably to woo another unsuspecting female of her fortune. No surprise in that, really.

  “Olivia found me,” he replied lightly. “I couldn’t very well say I wasn’t done with our… endeavor, shall we say.”

  She expelled a short puff of air that lifted the wisps of hair on her forehead. “So what did you tell her? She had to have been furious with you.”

  He smiled wryly. “I told her very little, actually.”

  “What exactly did you say?”

  She kept a rigid smile on her face even as she cut him with her biting tone. The one thing he remembered about Claudette was that she always, invariably, needed to be in control. That she acted so irritated by his evasiveness, not to mention his totally unexpected return without her knowledge, meant it was tearing her up inside. He could feel her anger by the way she dug her painted nails into his well-protected shoulder and gripped his hand to the point of pain.

  He chuckled as if she’d said something deviously amusing, for the benefit of those dancing around them, hoping to God he’d be able to make this explanation believable. “I told her exactly that being the foolish man I am, I gambled away most of the money and was terrified of returning to her. I told her that such a weakness was part of my upbringing, and that I still adore her. And then I asked her to forgive me.”

  Claudette snorted most unbecomingly, and for the first time her face crinkled in distaste. Amazingly, after all this time, he still thought of her as a beautiful woman, only now he wasn’t the least bit attracted to her charms.

  “Did she believe you?”

  He winked at her, then murmured, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

  She continued to gaze up at his face, her eyes narrowed in challenging suspicion.

  “Is she still in love with you?” she asked, her voice controlled even as a trace of unsureness seeped through the question just barely heard above the din.

  Sam felt his heart thumping hard in his chest. He wanted to lash out at her, to tell her with great enjoyment that Olivia, her dearest niece, couldn’t possibly be in love with her so-called husband and kiss him the way she just did. Oddly enough, it was that sudden realization that made him feel remarkably calm inside, elated even, and with that he offered her a genuine grin.

  “I believe so, Madame Comtesse. But then, isn’t that what you want?”

  For a few seconds, as he circled her around the parquet floor with expert ease in time to the waltz, she didn’t answer, though Sam knew her mind churned with ideas and worries. She looked older, the fine lines on her face more pronounced, even glaring under bright light. Still, her cosmetic application suited her and did manage to hide some of the telling signs of age. But then maybe he was jaded in his critical eye. To the oblivious onlooker, she’d no doubt appear the beautiful, buxom blond woman with the face of an angel. Just as he’d seen her the day she first walked into his life.

  “I didn’t like the fact that you returned without telling me, darling,” she cooed at last, her words slicing into his thoughts.

  He frowned, stroking her back with his fingertips. “Of course. I’m deeply sorry about that.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  The famous Claudette whine. He certainly hadn’t missed that in all these years. Inhaling a long, full breath, he replied, “Because Olivia hasn’t left my side since our return, and I cou
ldn’t very well tell her I was going to visit you. That would have certainly raised her suspicions.”

  She sighed, slowing her footsteps as the music selection played so expertly by the orchestra came to a close. “So what, pray tell, were you doing outside on the balcony with my lovely niece just now, Edmund? You seemed to be involved in a fairly… intimate conversation.” She very slowly took the arm he offered to lead her toward a buffet table. “It almost seemed as if something’s changed between the two of you.”

  That’s the understatement of the century. “Oh, I don’t think so. We’d danced and she felt warm so I escorted her outside for some air. Why do you ask?” It felt good to put her on the defense for once.

  She squeezed his arm, eyeing him through half-closed lashes as she accepted a full champagne glass from him. “I’m jealous, darling.”

  He chuckled, noting how the tension eased from his rigid spine. Jealous, indeed. Only if it interferes with your calculated plans. He leaned over and whispered for her benefit alone, “Cunning witch.”

  She laughed. “You’ve no idea.”

  Sam stared her squarely in the eye. “Oh, but I know you very well, don’t I, dearest Aunt?”

  Claudette blinked quickly several times, hesitating as her smile faded, then quickly swallowed the contents of her champagne flute before reaching for another. Sam stood his ground, waiting, unfazed, though wishing he could be more direct with her without raising her leeriness.

  At last she stepped closer to him, turning him with a palm to his elbow so they faced away from the crowd and toward the open windows. “I heard you were sleeping with her, in her apartments,” she murmured. Then through a sigh of exasperation, she added, “I thought we had an agreement, Edmund.”

  He could only begin to imagine what that agreement might be, but more important, it now became apparent that he and Olivia were being watched by someone reporting to her. That rattled him a bit even if he wasn’t all that surprised.

  “Edmund?”

  He shrugged, then admitted, “I am sleeping in her guest room for now.” For now. He couldn’t help but smile at the scintillating idea of changing that circumstance. “I don’t think she’s up to a more intimate companionship.”

  She seemed to physically relax beside him. Then, with the first genuine tone of distress, she asserted, “You simply cannot consummate your relationship with her, Edmund. We’ve talked about the consequences before, and I think they’re even more vital now that you’ve returned. Olivia will want you to bed her, but you must be firm in your resolve. Are we still in agreement over this issue?”

  Sam felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut, knocking the wind from him with the force of a thousand horses.

  His brother had never bedded Olivia. Or at least Claudette believed he hadn’t. Was Edmund that stupid? Or that smart? It would make sense to keep the option of annulment open, for both of them, should they present their marriage license as legitimate, and in that regard Edmund had done Olivia a tremendous favor. If one could call it that. It could also be that his love for Claudette kept him faithful to her, though Sam doubted that idea simply out of past experience. Or maybe his brother just wanted to avoid the risk of getting Olivia with child, a possibility that seemed far more likely. As far as Claudette was concerned, perhaps she didn’t want them to consummate their faux marriage because of her familial care for her niece, or she was against it for personal reasons, and in Sam’s mind, the latter made more sense. The most surprising part for him was that Edmund didn’t want to sleep with the woman who truly believed they were married. She would have given herself to him gladly; if not for pleasure, then for duty. It had to be Edmund who had retreated from the intimacy. Edmund and Claudette were in this together. Always, Edmund and Claudette.

  Still, once again he couldn’t rid himself entirely of the nagging notion that Olivia was involved in the deception and the three of them were playing him for money and ultimate ruin. There remained the chance that Olivia had told her aunt who he was before tonight’s event. His caution regarding his brother and Claudette had always led him to consider the worst of possibilities. And it bothered him tremendously that he didn’t yet know Olivia well enough to trust her. She had kissed him passionately, but could she act that well? He simply didn’t know.

  Jesus. What the hell do I believe?

  His incredulity regarding the million and one implications of this development must have shown in his expression.

  “I see that I’ve shocked you,” Claudette said with a crooked, unflattering lift of her lips. “I’d hoped to. I realize you never wanted to make love to her before, but seeing you outside… well…” She grabbed her pink satin skirts and shook them out. “I suppose I just let my imagination run away with me.”

  Sam felt fairly certain she didn’t see them kissing and hadn’t heard a word they shared, or her reaction would have been far more hysterical.

  “You know I don’t want her,” he said quietly, finding it difficult not to choke on the words, “but pretenses must be kept.”

  “Of course they must.” Her eyes brightened and she finished off the contents of her second flute in three large swallows. “My goodness, but you look like you need some champagne as well, darling,” she said fondly with a gentle pat to his cheek. Then she leaned up on her tiptoes and whispered in his ear, “I’m staying in the second floor guest room, at the corner of the east wing. I’ll see you there later.” And then without waiting for his reply, she backed away from him.

  “Well, I’m sure your lovely wife is missing you by now, Edmund, and I must mingle.” She smoothed the back of her hair. “We’ll have a lovely chat another time. I’d adore hearing more about your recent travels.” With a lift of her skirts, she turned on her heels and left him.

  Sam stared at her departing back until she disappeared into the crowd. Then, in sudden desperation, he went looking for a whiskey.

  Chapter 12

  Olivia had never felt so utterly confused in all of her life. This had been a night to remember, and for so many reasons beyond sharing an absolutely divine kiss with someone she should never have even dreamt of kissing. To desire him as a man, in his own right, was simply wrong, probably in a thousand ways she had yet to consider. He held an undeniable, ruthless, and perfectly delicious spell over her that she couldn’t seem to overcome no matter how hard she tried, though it didn’t help to admit to herself that thus far she’d hardly been trying to avoid his advances, be they physical or not. How in heaven’s name could she have these.. .feelings for the brother of her husband? Why, oh why, did he keep pursuing her as if there were no consequences to his actions? Being together as they were tonight went far beyond friendly companionship, though she realized with some rationale that he wasn’t completely at fault for the indiscretion. She’d responded to him as no lady should, at least outside the privacy of the marital bedchamber. But above it all, more than every consideration, they both had to realize they had absolutely no future together romantically. Their attraction to each other needed to end, and end now. She just wasn’t so sure how to do it.

  She’d tried not to watch as he danced with her aunt, and she’d scolded herself more than once for being utterly unable to control herself to that end, following them with her eyes while she stood talking to two of Nivan’s patrons in front of a buffet table. They looked agreeable in each other’s arms, but she did note a certain hardness in Sam’s posture and expression that he hadn’t exhibited with her. True, Claudette’s interruption on the balcony had startled them both, but he’d more than shocked her when he asked her aunt to dance, particularly after the intimate moment they’d only just shared. She hadn’t expected him to leave her so abruptly after she’d mentioned Claudette’s obvious appreciation of her husband’s charms. But then maybe that was why Sam seemed interested in her. Olivia only wished she hadn’t felt that same tinge of jealousy settle in the pit of her stomach when she saw them together. She shouldn’t feel jealousy of any kind where Sam was concerned, and tha
t irked her most of all, she decided. But apparently, and of course most importantly, the ruse still worked. Claudette didn’t appear to suspect he wasn’t Edmund, as Olivia had feared from the beginning.

  Now they rode together in silence back to Nivan, Sam sitting across from her, eyes closed, though she knew he wasn’t sleeping. He hadn’t said as much as two words to her since they’d left the party. She hadn’t wanted to leave, and they hadn’t originally planned to, but he insisted, telling her only that it was imperative that she not see her aunt again this evening. He refused to tell her why, or what he and Claudette had discussed during their few minutes together, and it irritated her that he remained silent even now that they were alone. She wanted answers and she was starting to tire of waiting for him to speak.

  “Why were you so anxious for us to leave the ball, Sam?” she asked as their hired coach exited the lane on the Brillon estate and turned toward town.

  He only grunted, keeping his eyes closed. “We’ll talk about it back at Nivan.”

  Exhaling a fast breath, she prodded, “Did you learn something you’re keeping from me? What did you discuss with my aunt?”

  “Olivia, be a little patient.”

  His tone had an edge to it that she didn’t think she’d heard from him before. His evasiveness and decision to make her wait made her mad though. They’d planned on staying the night at the estate, and yet no sooner had he finished the waltz with her aunt, he found her, a double whiskey in his hand, and practically forced her out the door, swallowing the remains of his drink in a few large gulps. That surprised her, too, for he seemed more disturbed than the event should have made him. Truth be told, she was positively dying to know what Claudette had said to him to get him so upset—or what she’d done.

  “Are you feeling light-headed from the drink?” she asked softly.

  He smirked. “I didn’t have enough.”