Every Scandalous Secret (12 page)
“But you especially,” she countered. “Are you not content with a peaceful countryside, alone with your thoughts? Or perhaps having no one to talk to makes you nervous.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lord and Lady Bramfield exchange an unreadable look.
“I like to swim,” Leo answered, “and throw myself down on the bank to dry off in the sun. Then I enjoy being alone with my thoughts.”
There was a murmur among the young ladies as they twittered and blushed. Though Susanna tensed, she found she didn’t fear that he’d reveal what they’d done by the river. He’d gradually revealed to her more honor than she’d guessed he possessed. But he liked to tease, and she could respond in kind.
“Alone with your thoughts? Then that is a rare moment for you, Mr. Wade,” she continued amicably. “But it must not satisfy you, for as you say, you prefer the excitement of London. From what I hear, you are a man who is usually in the company of others. I wonder if you truly can be content with a simpler life, where you’d have to find something that would satisfy your intellect. Like Mr. Tyler.”
Mr. Tyler reddened even as he gave her a nod.
Leo leaned his forearms on the table. “We cannot all be like Mr. Tyler. If every gentleman were alike, you ladies would be bored.”
She leaned toward him as well. “I hope you find comfort in that sentiment, Mr. Wade.”
“Well!” Caroline said brightly. “What a lively conversation. I do hope such spirit will carry on to the competition I have planned.”
Susanna’s eyes still sparked with Leo’s, and she had to force herself to look at her friend. It was then she noticed more than one appraising glance her way and realized she had stepped over an invisible boundary. She’d done something unexpected, perhaps even given the other guests something to talk about. She hated being talked about. But she’d done nothing inappropriate.
“Lady Caroline, do not keep us in suspense,” Lord Keane drawled, even as he eyed Leo and Susanna. “What can be more entertaining than this?”
A chill passed through her. She had not meant to entertain the likes of Lord Keane. Had she calculated incorrectly? Leo was still watching her, without the smug smile he might have offered for the benefit of the men, leaving her feeling confused.
“An archery competition!” Caroline exclaimed. “Even as we were eating, the servants were setting up targets in the park. Yes, it is an entertainment,” she added slyly, “but one of the best available when one visits the country.”
If Susanna expected Mr. Tyler to demur, she found herself surprised.
“I enjoy archery,” he said, smiling.
The glimpse of that crooked tooth once again tugged at her. He was such a nice man. Of course he liked the sporting country pursuits. After all, he rode well, didn’t he?
“And I enjoy a good competition,” Leo said, waiting until Lady Bramfield rose to come to his feet.
T
he afternoon sun hung hazily in the humid air. Leo felt that he couldn’t take a deep enough breath in the unusual early-summer heat. Even the grass seemed wilted, and the trees bowed as if their branches were too heavy to support. After choosing his bow, he removed his coat, knowing he scandalized the London-bred young ladies. He usually enjoyed this ability of his, but today he felt . . . distracted.
He liked Susanna’s verbal challenge, the way she’d spoken her mind before all the guests. There weren’t many souls brave enough to risk either condemnation or intense regard from the
ton
—except himself, of course. She’d generated the latter and hadn’t batted an eye.
But something she’d said had pricked him. How had she known that lately he’d been bored?
Satisfy his intellect indeed, he thought. Was that it, what he’d begun to miss?
For his usual haunts had seemed somehow stale of late, his club full of men drinking and gambling to excess. Much as he was good at both, his opponents had begun to seem . . . aged by the behavior, the men with red, veined noses and paunches growing larger as the years passed. Boxing matches had lately bored him, and racing his carriage in the park had begun to seem pointless. What did such competition matter?
And each new crop of debutantes seemed younger and sillier—when he’d always liked them best young and silly.
He’d been bored in the country, too. When he visited his family, he could only attempt to defeat his brother in rowing competitions so many times. And then his brother would retreat to consult his secretary about his estate business, leaving Leo idle and restless. He didn’t care about business and thought his money best spent hiring competent people to look after that sort of thing.
He found himself watching Tyler, who tested his own bow and gathered a handful of arrows. The man’s interest was botany—Leo couldn’t see the appeal.
And then Tyler looked at Susanna, who shielded herself with a parasol as she watched the beginning of the competition. Leo bristled at the man’s regard. She looked cool and composed, even regal. But the faint dewiness on the narrow swathe of skin visible below her neck made him think of vigorous sex in the heat, with that auburn hair spread gloriously around her.
He turned away before his trousers became too uncomfortable. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d battled arousal as much as he had recently. The challenge of the wager and besting Susanna had interested him as nothing had in a long time.
She’d even agreed to try her own hand at archery, and he wondered if she’d be good at it. If she put her mind to it, she would. Unlike his normal conquests, she was that sort of woman, one who had talent and drive, and the ability to use both.
Leo had always had things to master, too, though they would not impress a woman like Susanna. And they no longer seemed to impress him.
But he was good at archery. If a competitive skill could earn him money and a victory, he attempted to master it.
But there was little left in life to master, and that left him searching for . . . something.
He glanced at Miss Randolph, who waved at him when she saw him looking. He waved back. Perhaps this restless feeling was how men knew it was time to marry.
The thought startled him, for although he’d told Susanna what sort of woman appealed to him, he had meant in the far-off future. But perhaps the future had snuck up on him when he hadn’t realized it.
Miss Randolph certainly wanted him—and her parents actually liked him. He needed to look more into her family before his reputation caught up and made the decision more difficult. But money could smooth that over.
Miss Randolph wasn’t the only choice, he thought, letting his gaze wander lazily over the other eligible women. And then the archery competition began, and he focused on the challenge.
Susanna did not know what to make of Leo’s quiet concentration. He’d seemed introspective—and she’d never seen that side of him. What had he been thinking behind that faint frown?
Winning, of course. She admired his drive to master whatever he attempted—even the wrong things. She conceded that perhaps he wasn’t a man to float through life, buffeted by currents taking him where they might. He seemed to choose his path even if it was not one she could admire. That was one thing she’d learned about him that surprised her.
But that made him even more of a curiosity to her—why hadn’t he chosen more productive pursuits to focus on, especially since he’d betrayed hints of a hidden intelligence?
She watched the other ladies practically swoon over the sight of him in fluttering white shirtsleeves. His waistcoat hugged his torso, showing his flat stomach and lean hips. She had to fight to keep her small sketchbook in her pocket.
Mr. Tyler had excellent form as well, she thought, when he took his own turn. And his arrow hit the center of the target, unlike Leo’s. She considered the difference in her reaction to the two men. Mr. Tyler did not make her heart race, or her knees tremble. She was in control, with a quiet feeling of warm friendship because of their shared interests and an outlook on life that she could respect. This was what she wanted to experience for the rest of her life.
And then she looked at Leo, who rested his shoulder against a tree as he talked to Miss Randolph. She found herself wanting to warn him that he was leading the girl on again, that she’d only try her plan to entrap him another time.
She didn’t need to protect him, Susanna reminded herself. She didn’t need to feel all tangled up inside, as if she were a mix of pigments that muddied into a confused brown instead of a vivid, confident color.
When all the men had taken a turn, the ladies stepped forward. To Susanna’s surprise, Mrs. Norton had quite the keen eye. When Susanna took her own turn, she was dismayed to find herself trembling as she sighted down the arrow. She was used to fading into the wallpaper, being unseen, living her own life. She was suddenly very conscious of the bold choices she’d been making, her obsession with Leo, the risks she was taking to find happiness.
It would be worth it, she told herself, even as she felt Leo’s amused regard. She let loose her arrow, and breathed a sigh of relief that she at least hit the target.
“Well done, Miss Leland,” Leo called.
She nodded her thanks, wishing it had been Mr. Tyler who’d thought to compliment her. She looked at the scientist, and he was smiling and nodding at her, and the tension in her stomach eased as she smiled back.
Mr. Tyler was standing with the other men, who were congratulating his marksmanship. Susanna moved behind them to the refreshment table, looking for something to drink. To her surprise, she heard the men quite clearly.
“Tyler,” Leo said, “I am impressed with your archery skills.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wade. It was a boyhood diversion I enjoyed, a gentleman’s competition of skill.”
“Well, you easily ignored my attempts to distract you.”
The gentlemen all chuckled. Susanna wondered what she’d missed.
“You read me too well,” Mr. Tyler said agreeably. “Mentioning the specimens Mr. Darwin sent back from his trip around the world was almost a low blow. Cambridge is lucky to have them.”
She could no longer be surprised that Leo might know about scientific specimens at Cambridge University. She remembered that his brother had attended—had Leo? When she next saw her father, she would have to ask if he remembered the Wade brothers.
“At least you naturalists now have confirmation that the platypus wasn’t a fraud,” Leo continued.
“Do not put me among those cynics, Mr. Wade,” Mr. Tyler quickly said. “To believe someone could sew a duck’s beak onto the pelt of a beaver—balderdash.”
“I’m certain that Miss Leland will be relieved that you weren’t taken in. I saw that she admired your talent at archery.”
Susanna tensed, but Mr. Tyler only awkwardly cleared his throat. For what purpose did Leo bring up her name?
“Though we’ll have to differ about the true gentlemen’s competition,” Leo added. “I always thought it was fencing.”
To her surprise, Mr. Tyler answered in a confident voice.
“I, too, enjoy that ancient art. Perhaps you would honor me with a match?”
The fork Susanna had picked up tumbled from her fingers onto the table.
“Tyler, it would give me great pleasure to cross swords with you.”
Were they—were they going to fight . . . over her? She felt flattered and dismayed and far too excited.
Would she be able to watch?
T
he heat proved too much, so Susanna took her students back to the gallery late that afternoon, where their assignment was to choose a portrait and paint a watercolor of it, particularly emphasizing matching paint colors. She wandered from lady to lady, giving her thoughts on which colors to mix to create the right result. The room seemed to hum with their quiet voices, and Susanna tried to dwell on her usual feeling of contentment where sharing her art was concerned.
But thoughts of Leo and Mr. Tyler kept intruding.
“Susanna?”
She gave a little start at Caroline’s call, then approached her. Caroline was working at the far end of the gallery, away from the other young ladies.
Susanna studied her Bristol board, seeing that she’d roughly sketched in the hounds and horses from the fox hunting painting. “You’ve chosen a difficult subject,” Susanna said. “But I admire how you’ve—”
“While I have you alone,” Caroline interrupted in a low voice, “it’s not the painting I wish to discuss.”
Susanna’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”
“Your . . . discussion with Mr. Wade at luncheon was most illuminating.” Caroline bit her lip, as if she was holding back a smile.
Susanna sighed. “You can tease me—I will not be offended.”
Caroline chuckled, even as she continued to study her painting. “When you practically told him of his intellectual failings, I could have fallen out of my chair!”
“I did not say it quite so boldly . . .” Now it was Susanna’s turn to bite her lip. “I hadn’t meant to offend, only to inspire reflection.”
“On Mr. Wade’s part?” Caroline asked. “I do not imagine many women have ever demanded such a thing of him.”
“And he has been the poorer for it.”
Caroline laughed again, causing both Miss Norton and Lady May to glance at them with curiosity.
“Oh, dear, I must control myself,” Caroline murmured. “I simply never knew how amusing you are! Or should I say I was so preoccupied with Rebecca that I never took the time. I apologize for that failing.”
Blinking in surprise, Susanna said, “You have no need to apologize to me. You are a wonderful friend to Rebecca, and I’m incredibly grateful to you.”
Caroline smiled and glanced over her shoulder. “Then forgive my boldness for asking an even more personal question. Are you interested in Mr. Wade as a suitor?”
Susanna spoke firmly. “Most certainly not.”
“Other guests have noticed his preference for your company.”
“Is there . . . much talk?”
“Only the usual. We are all confined together in one house for many days. You know how gossip spreads.”
Susanna sat down heavily on the sofa closest to Caroline’s chair. After everything her family had gone through from her grandfather’s scandals through her parents’ near divorce, the last thing she wanted was to bring her parents censure. They had only recently mended their own disagreements, growing deeper in love than they’d ever been before. She had hoped her search for a husband would keep them from being disappointed in her, keep them from worrying.
“I know Mr. Wade has an . . . interesting reputation,” Caroline continued, “but I have seen him behave compassionately. I cannot help but think him kind because of it.”
“Kind? How so?” Susanna asked, trying not to sound too intrigued.
“Toward his sister, at least.”
Susanna remembered the conversation about siblings she’d shared with Leo and knew that he was fond of Miss Wade. But he’d mentioned pranks rather than any kind deeds.
“You know the terrible first Season Miss Wade had, do you not?”
“How could I forget? I was there when she sprawled onto the floor when she was presented to Queen Victoria.”
Caroline winced. “I remember the hush, then the awful whispers, and the look on the poor girl’s face . . .”
Susanna sighed. “If only that were all. Didn’t she trip a duke’s son? And spill her drink on . . .”
As if sharing a simultaneous memory, they both turned to stare at Lady May, who was biting her lip as she studied her painting.
“Does Lady May remember?” Susanna whispered. “I do believe she complained for months afterward.”
“If she does, she doesn’t associate it with Mr. Wade. It was several years ago, after all.”
“What kindness did Mr. Wade display in all of this?” Susanna couldn’t help her curiosity.
“I do believe that after Miss Wade tripped the ducal heir—whichever one it was, for I forget—Mr. Wade made it a point, when all the other men were laughing about it—to defend his sister’s honor and remind them all how young she was. Or so my brother told me. Mr. Wade didn’t have to speak up; he could have laughed with all the others.”
Susanna knew he had a fondness for his siblings, and she felt pleased that he had no qualms about showing it in public. She had always enjoyed a good relationship with her own brother, and was glad that whatever trials Miss Wade had suffered, at least she had the support of her brother.
Caroline leaned toward her and lowered her voice. “Though there is no talk of what I’m about to say, I cannot help feeling that perhaps you prefer Mr. Tyler.”
Susanna nodded. “Yes, we are quite well matched in interests and temperament.”
“Are you?” Caroline pressed, watching her.
“How can you be surprised?” Susanna asked, her tension returning. “His love of botany and the country life?”
“Yes, I know, but . . .” Caroline trailed off, then shook her head.
“You cannot believe I favor Mr. Wade.”
“Perhaps not
consciously . . .”
Susanna felt flushed and flustered all at the same time. “There is no doubt that his ability to live on the edge of Society’s good regards might appeal to some, Miss Randolph in particular,” she added, lowering her voice.
“I have noticed her adoration.” Caroline glanced at the other young lady.
“Oh, believe me, Mr. Wade has noticed it, too.”
“And how do you know that?” Caroline asked, eyeing her with curiosity.
“Because—” Susanna broke off, knowing she could not in good conscience mention the kiss she’d seen in the conservatory. “Forgive me, but I cannot betray a confidence.”
Caroline didn’t press for an answer, for which Susanna was grateful.
I
n the end, finding the men’s fencing match proved far easier than Susanna had imagined. After an evening of cards among the ladies and gentlemen—in which Leo was by far the biggest winner—she waited to be the last lady to retire. But instead of heading to her rooms, she hurried around the corner to a small parlor and, blowing out her candle, stepped into the darkness within. Perched on the edge of a sofa, it was easy enough to overhear the men laughing and drinking. That seemed to go on forever though she couldn’t judge the time in the dark. Every time her head would bob drowsily, a roar of laughter would awaken her. Was this what they did every night? How did they get up early and start the day? Perhaps a house party wasn’t all that relaxing for men.
One by one, she heard the older gentlemen take their leave, and confirmed it with a quick peek. Surely now the younger men would fence. When she heard the scrape of furniture being moved across wood floors, she tried not to get too excited, for after all, it might just be—
“My father keeps blades in his study,” Lord Swanley called with gusto. “Come take your pick!”
Her mouth fell open. They were actually going to fence. Had Leo talked the rest of them into it?
Susanna dared to peek out into the corridor and saw the men, many now in shirtsleeves, trooping down the main corridor, laughing and jostling each other. Without giving it careful thought—for if she thought it through, she’d never be brave enough—she hurried to the drawing room and peered inside. It was empty, with all of the furniture and rolled carpets pushed against the walls.
Where could she hide?
As she considered and discarded several chairs and tables, she heard the rising sound of male voices. Feeling a shot of wild fear and thrilling excitement, she ran to the nearest sofa beneath the windows. Pushing it until she made a space for herself, she ducked behind it.
Just in time, too, for she next heard the sound of steel meeting steel.
“Not yet, gentlemen,” Leo drawled.
Mr. Frobisher gave a nervous laugh. Was he actually going to fence, too?
As they decided who would fight whom, their words were more ribald and masculine than they ever used in the presence of a lady. She did have a brother and male cousins, of course, so it wasn’t as if she were shocked.
But she didn’t hear Mr. Tyler being crude. It wasn’t until Leo said, “Tyler?” that she heard his voice at all.
“Any blade will do,” Mr. Tyler said simply.
“A man should choose his weapon,” Leo said to many chuckles. “It must feel as if it were made for you, as if it’s an extension of your arm.”
She swallowed. Sometimes she felt that way about her brush. It was a part of her when she touched it to canvas, as if it did her bidding.
“That sounds quite . . . dedicated,” Mr. Tyler said. “Then I’ll choose this one. I see the safety tip is already buttoned on.”
Susanna couldn’t wait anymore. On her knees behind the sofa—and she’d done her best to make certain the draperies were also hanging nearby—she slowly leaned forward until she could see the scene. Several more candles had been lit, and every man was in shirtsleeves now. The competitors were Mr. Evans, Lord Keane, Mr. Tyler, Lord Swanley, Mr. Frobisher, and Leo. An even number of men for three matches.
But the room wasn’t large enough to accommodate them all, so four of them hung back, lounging across sofas or leaning against walls, as the first two met. Leo and Mr. Tyler faced each other. Leo had already removed his waistcoat, but Mr. Tyler kept his on, properly buttoned up. They studied each other for a moment, and Susanna felt a strange feeling come over her. They looked . . . intent, focused. It was not Leo’s usual expression, and if Mr. Tyler wore such when he was in his laboratory, she still hadn’t seen it.
Could it be about . . . her?
No, no, she was making too much of this. Leo had practically boasted that he was a superior swordsman, and Mr. Tyler, fresh from his archery victory, was surely only humoring him.
She was belittling herself again, believing that no one could possibly desire her as a woman. She’d sworn to stop that, to portray confidence in herself.
She felt the most confident with a sketchbook in her hands. She pulled the small one from her pocket, along with the pencil, and clutched it tight, even as the first clash of steel made her shudder.
Quickly looking out, she saw Leo and Mr. Tyler, crossed swords held before them, eyeing each other, Leo grinning, Mr. Tyler serious.
And then Leo started to move, lightning slashes that Mr. Tyler parried, falling back step by step as he did so. Susanna gasped, and heard several of the men murmur their approval. Leo was quite skilled at something besides cards.
Next Mr. Tyler took the offensive, more deliberate with the placement of his blade, until he slashed low. Leo jumped with grace, and Mr. Tyler’s sword swung wildly beneath, throwing him off balance. Leo waited without pressing his advantage.
Mr. Tyler straightened. “Well done, sir.”
Leo attacked again. For several minutes, Susanna forgot to breathe, watching his skill and grace. And then in a momentary pause, he stripped off his shirt, and she was treated to an awe-inspiring display of his torso in motion. His muscles moved with health and vitality, unlike the ones she was used to looking at, the blood pounding through them, highlighting the miracle of life.
This vision of Leo, shining with the low candlelight, full of taut, deliberate purpose, was even more overwhelming. She was caught up in the spell of how he made her feel, and she barely realized she’d begun to draw him. Faster and faster she sketched, glancing up occasionally, but letting the emotions burst forth from her pencil and spill all over the page.
Only vaguely did she hear the applause and realize that Leo had been declared the winner. The victory didn’t matter to her when compared to the beauty of the scene. She continued to work as the other gentlemen took their turns against different opponents. Leo gave simple instructions, even as she’d been giving art instructions to the women. The irony escaped her, all concentration riveted to her sketchbook.
His body was coming to life on the page, sword extended, left arm behind him, hair damp with perspiration. She couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop, could only be grateful that several candles burned on the table nearest to her, providing just enough light.
She didn’t notice the growing silence, or that her pencil provided a faint scratch along the paper. Her knees ached from having her legs folded beneath her, her back was bowed over her lap uncomfortably, but she didn’t care.
And then a shadow came between her and the candles. She looked up and found Leo standing above her, one hand on his hip, the other holding his sword with the tip pricking the floor, perspiration sliding down his damp chest.
“I was waiting for everyone to go,” Leo said softly. “I saw you quite a while back and knew there was only one reason you could be here.”
