by Allison Lane
Idiot!
It was obvious in retrospect. He must have followed her to see if the rumors were true. But clandestine surveillance was not his strength, so when he’d met Rockhurst, he had recruited the man. Under the guise of helping her, Rockhurst would assess how much damage she was causing so William could decide what to do with her. This was another instance of his priggishness overriding his sense. He had long decried the moral laxity so many men espoused.
She paced to the corner so she could blink back tears unobserved. If William had charged Rockhurst with spying on her, he would do so, regardless of where he stayed. It might be better to keep him close.
Then there was Laura. She had been so excited at the prospect of having an earl in the house. William’s description of a fair-minded man blessed with both wealth and compassion had stirred her imagination. She was determined to win an offer.
Catherine flinched. Whatever her own impressions, Laura deserved a chance to judge Rockhurst for herself. They all knew the harsh truth. Raising enough money to visit Bath was unlikely, so this would probably be her last opportunity to snare a respectable husband – especially if Rockhurst was right and the rumors were worse than she’d heard. But Laura could attract him only if he were here.
So she must ignore her misgivings and let him undertake the impossible task of redeeming her reputation. Stifling a sigh at the necessity of baring her stupidity, she returned to face him. If only he were not so well set up.
“Try if you must,” she said, shaking her head. “Not that I believe it is possible. Jasper has been avenging insults for years, but he has such a glib tongue that no one of consequence believes him capable of evil. And to be honest, I am his first victim from the upper classes.”
“He preys on servants and the like?” He gestured toward the couch.
He could not sit until she had done so, she realized, chagrined at her lack of hospitality. “Would you care for wine?” she asked as she took her seat.
“No. How did you insult him? Even grave bodily injury hardly justifies this sort of spite.”
“For you and most other men, perhaps, but Jasper’s sensibilities are unusually tender.” She clasped her hands, searching for words that would not cause worse trouble. “He cares for only two things — pleasure and himself. His father is the area’s most influential man, so he grew up believing that he was better than the rest of us. If he wants something, he takes it. If the victims object, they pay. He allows no disrespect.”
“I’ve met others like that, though usually with higher titles.”
“That is in London. Jasper prefers to remain here, where he has little competition for power and glory.” She paused, berating herself for allowing passion into her voice. Rockhurst already had a low opinion of her. Sounding like one of the Furies would not improve it.
She forced her hands to lie quietly in her lap. “He has always been quick to take offense and avenges even the slightest insult, no matter how inadvertent. His reprisals appear accidental, and no one can prove otherwise. Spirited young lords injure inferiors every day, merely by being their arrogant selves. In my case, I cannot even prove he started the rumors.”
“You sound bitter, though I can hardly blame you. What insult triggered his attack on you,” he repeated.
“He decided that he wanted me in his bed,” she said bluntly, hurling the words out before she lost her nerve. She had never revealed the cause, fearing William’s reaction. “I had ignored his innuendo and tried to avoid him, but he cornered me in the orchard one day and pressed his attentions.” She shuddered at the memory of groping hands and slobbering lips. “When he refused to accept my rejection, I lost my temper and struck him.”
“Where?”
She paused, searching for the right words.
“You applied a judicious knee where it would do the most good, I suppose,” he said, flinching.
She nodded. “It was stupid, for it worsened the insult. I knew he would retaliate, but I couldn’t help myself. Even worse, I threatened to reveal his reprisals unless he left me alone.”
“You actually threatened a man who takes offense at any insult?”
She sighed. “Not the most intelligent thing I’ve ever done, but I was desperate to escape. If William had not appeared in the distance just then, Jasper would have overpowered me. As it was, he vowed that I would be sorry, so I wasn’t surprised when he decided to ruin my reputation. You saw for yourself how he does it. His behavior is proprietary when he has an audience from the lower classes, implying that I am in league with him.”
“What does that accomplish?”
“If they suspect my integrity, they will stop sharing information with me, which will prevent the upper classes from learning his vices. I have no recourse, for he is adept at manipulating impressions. If I rebuke him or deny his implications, I seem guilty and secretive. If I ignore him, I seem guilty and complicit. At first he used only suggestive words, but now he is pushing harder. I don’t know what his purpose was in Exeter, but he staged that scene for your benefit. I’m sure it appeared intimate, but he was inflicting so much pain on my neck that I could not move.”
His mouth thinned. “Why did you not protest the first rumor? Surely you could have raised doubts then. You are not the only person who knows his true character.”
“No, but I do not visit town very often, so the story was firmly planted before I heard about it. And he has protected himself well. The gossips never question his statements. In their eyes, he walks on water. Those who understand him are from the lower classes, but no one would accept their word over his.”
“You are not from the lower classes.”
“That no longer matters. I should have considered the consequences that day. Once he realized that I saw past his genial façade, he had to destroy my credibility. It is the only way to retain the respect he craves.”
“So we will reveal his attacks on others, forcing people to question his integrity.” Rockhurst was frowning.
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. These rumors are the only reprisal that he would deny. If we accuse him of destroying a tenant’s crops, he will don an expression of great sorrow and agree that it was a most unfortunate business. He and his friends had consumed far too much wine that night and should never have attempted a cross-country ride.”
“I see. He passes it off as high spirits, makes a token payment for the damage, and everyone believes him a fine fellow who has his dependents’ best interests at heart. No one can prove his motive.”
“Exactly. The victims know, for he always vows revenge at the time of the insult. But there are no witnesses to that threat, so no one can prove it. Since they are from the lower classes – Jasper is enthusiastic about keeping people in their place, which is one reason he pursues even the slightest insult – few people even hear of the incidents. I know about them only because I continue visiting members of Harold’s parish.”
“Seabrook mentioned that the current vicar prefers hunting.”
She nodded, but declined to share her views of a church run by doddering fools and younger sons who wanted nothing but the income from their livings.
“Doesn’t Rankin care that his actions affect others besides his victim? In your case, it is hurting your entire family.”
“Why should he? It increases my punishment, for he puts all blame on my shoulders. It is my fault that William’s courtship is faring badly. It is my fault that few people call and that our invitation to this year’s harvest ball was canceled. If I had not turned him down, none of us would suffer.”
“He should be stopped.”
“I agree, but there is nothing you or anyone else can do. Jasper has no regrets and no remorse. He believes he is upholding the social order. Disrespect for their betters can push the lower classes into unrest and open rebellion. We wouldn’t want England to go the way of France, now, would we?” Again she paused to restore her composure. “Personally, I think he is unbalanced, but nothing can be do
ne. Trying to change him will only cause worse damage.”
“His father?”
“Ignores him. Lord Rankin did his duty by producing an heir. That left him free to pursue his own pleasures, which do not include devoting time to his family. I doubt he even noticed when his wife died. He was in London at the time and did not return for the burial.” She thrust aside her disgust over the cold life at Rankin Park. Jasper had come by his selfishness honestly. “Face facts, Lord Rockhurst, there isn’t a threat you could make that would force Jasper to confess. And most of the gossips would dismiss such a confession, for they would know it was coerced. William doesn’t recognize or understand evil, so he believes a little pressure in the right quarter might help, but nothing will rectify this situation.”
She rose. Continuing this discussion could only lead to tears. Despair already threatened to overwhelm her.
Turning him over to Mrs. Moulding, she informed Laura that he had arrived, then headed for the nursery. Sarah must learn that the man who had frightened her in town was now a welcome guest in the house.
This was not one of her better days.
CHAPTER FOUR
Blake had wanted to scowl since Mrs. Parrish had all but thrown him out of the drawing room, but he wasn’t able to indulge himself until he finally got rid of the overly enthusiastic housekeeper. Where had his sense gone?
I will redeem your reputation.
Twice he had uttered that vow – not to try, but to succeed.
Fool!
He had always been careful never to promise what he couldn’t deliver. The integrity of his word lay at the core of his honor as a gentleman. Now he had sworn to accomplish the impossible.
Manipulating public opinion was not one of his skills. He was a straightforward man who faced problems head-on and preferred the unvarnished truth. That was how he had rescued his inheritance from ruin and recognized Dornbras as evil when Max had not. And it showed him just how futile his efforts would be this time. Jasper Rankin was a master of manipulation and deceit. Defeating him would require a great deal of luck and skills he neither possessed nor admired.
But he had to try, he admitted, peering out the window. A small formal garden gave way to lawn, then to a lake with a Roman folly perched on its shore. He had given his word. Failure would damage his reputation less than reneging would.
At least he now understood why Catherine had refused to tell William the full truth. She knew her brother well.
William had been well liked at Eton, but his classmates knew better than to provoke him. He had a wicked temper when anyone threatened someone he valued, and he didn’t always think clearly when his blood was up.
Terror had flashed in Catherine’s eyes when she’d recounted the confrontation in the orchard. He would have overpowered me... She was not a hysterical woman prone to dramatic charges. Nor was she the sort to imagine danger where none existed. Thus she must already have been under attack when her brother appeared. If the attack had continued, Jasper would have ravished her.
So she had remained silent. William would have challenged Jasper – might still do so if he discovered the truth. A duel, or even the offer of one, would make the situation worse as Jasper twisted it to his own purpose. The gossips would assume that Seabrook had caught the pair en flagrante but was bent on defending the indefensible, blood being thicker than water. Thus a challenge would make her look even guiltier.
Beyond that, Seabrook was no marksman, unless he had developed a sudden interest in pistols since leaving school. He had always refrained when his classmates competed, claiming that a pistol’s recoil aggravated an old break in his hand.
On the other hand, the lack of challenge could also play into Jasper’s hand by proving that Catherine had remained silent. Would he twist her reticence against her? If people assumed that William knew about Catherine’s lovers, they would see his equanimity as proof that the stories were true.
Blake dropped into the chair nearest the fire, frowning as he gazed into the flames. Speculating on who might think what and why served no purpose. He was no good at it and would doubtless get it all wrong anyway. It was more important to plan his next move.
He should not have let her send him away. He needed details of the other cases she’d mentioned and more information about the Rankins, both father and son. Her explanation of Jasper’s motives didn’t make sense, so there must be more behind this than she was saying.
An angry, unbalanced man might strike back harder than the situation warranted, but not to this extent – unless he was terrified. But what could Jasper fear from Catherine? She was the first to admit that baring his other revenges would do no good. Even crying rape would harm her far more than him. A widow could hardly claim compromise to force him into marriage.
He needed to find out when the first rumors had appeared. If it had been immediately, then perhaps Jasper’s initial purpose had been to stave off a duel by proving that a challenge was unnecessary because Catherine had no virtue to defend.
He shook his head. Catherine would not know the timing – she’d admitted that the rumors had been established before she’d heard them – but there were other questions he should have asked. Would have, if he’d not still been reeling over her identity. His mind had wandered too often to the stunning combination of black hair and blue eyes, to the way her skirts swirled as she stalked about the room.
Again he cursed himself for a fool. Distractions would make the task even worse. Only by concentrating on business would he have any chance of success.
When the flames reminded him of how her eyes sparked in anger, he jumped up. Pulling out his writing case, he began a list of everyone he knew who had connections near Exeter. He needed information about the Rankins beyond what Catherine might know, but he had met neither of them himself. The viscount had not attended London social affairs, visited Brighton, or occupied his seat in Parliament since Blake had been in town. Jasper had attended neither Eton nor Oxford. According to Catherine, he rarely left the area.
Two hours later, Blake sealed the last letter and summoned his valet. It was time to dress for dinner.
He had come to one decision while writing. He could not question Catherine during meals lest he trigger William’s temper by revealing facts the man did not know.
* * * *
Cursing his valet for making him late, Blake rushed downstairs. Between tardiness and his outburst in town, Catherine would think him completely rag-mannered. Yet he hated to argue with Harris. He owed the valet for accepting a host of menial chores while Max corrected problems at his understaffed estate. And he hated to damage any man’s pride. Harris had been with him for fifteen years, even remaining during the lean years following his father’s death. So when the man had refused to allow him out of the room until his cravat was properly tied, Blake bit his tongue and said nothing. Harris’s credit in the servants’ hall would be diminished if his master displayed inferior dress.
But his tardiness didn’t matter. Catherine was not yet down.
“Rockhurst!” exclaimed Seabrook, clasping Blake’s hand and thumping him heartily on the shoulder. “We are so grateful that you agreed to help us.”
“Seabrook.” The effusive welcome was alarming. Even his rash vow to salvage Catherine’s reputation should not elicit this much warmth. He hadn’t felt this uneasy since last Season.
The feeling intensified when he glanced around the old-fashioned drawing room. A lady stood by the fireplace. She had to be all of twenty and was dressed to the nines in a gown more suited to a ball than a family dinner. As she caught his eye, she fluttered her fan and smiled.
Matchmaker!
His heart sank. Seabrook’s sisters were not young girls. The baron might wish to prove Catherine’s innocence, but his real motive was to find a suitor for this sister.
He cursed his blindness. Given Seabrook’s age and that of Mrs. Parrish, he should have suspected that any other sisters were ripe for marriage. Between a limited dowry and the
recent rumors, this one would be hard-pressed to attract an offer. Which made her dangerous.
More curses filled his mind.
This cast grave doubts on Seabrook’s other claims. The man probably believed the rumors but claimed Catherine was innocent to improve this sister’s chances. If his honor remained intact, he would be content with introducing them.
Don’t make assumptions, he reminded himself. Desperation could tempt even good men to dishonor. Installing an eligible gentleman in the house would provide opportunities to force the issue.
Had Catherine condoned this plot? He had believed her innocent after today’s meeting, but now he had to reconsider. He had judged her in part on her kinship to William, but he had not seen the baron in years. Men could change, and many did. And their siblings did not always reflect the same character. He need look no further than Dornbras, who was evil to the core, though his numerous siblings were stodgy paragons of virtue.
Was Catherine lying? Perhaps she had terminated their meeting so abruptly because her control was slipping. She had yet to arrive in the drawing room – odd for a woman whose future supposedly rested on his ability to divert gossip.
He stifled his rising fury. Dishonor did not invalidate his vow, so he must remain here long enough to discover the truth. But he must keep his wits about him if he hoped to emerge intact. He could trust no one.
“Forgive me for being out when you arrived,” continued Seabrook. “I trust your room is comfortable?”
Blake nodded.
“I don’t believe you’ve met my sister, Laura.” He smiled, pulling Blake closer to the girl.
“My lord.” She fluttered her lashes.
