Every Scandalous Secret (27 page)

“You knew about this!” Rebecca called to her parents.

“It was not our announcement to make,” Lady Rosa said. “But I am very glad I did not have to keep quiet for too long!”

Leo laughed, then Susanna watched as he met the amused gazes of his friends, Peter Derby and Lord Parkhurst.

With a wry glance at Lord Parkhurst, Peter said, “We’ve been upstaged.” He was tall and slim, with sandy brown hair and a habit of using his hands as he talked. “All we did was propose.”

Lord Parkhurst, a far more serious man of business, with a boxer’s body that belied his noble lineage, seemed at ease as he put his arm around Rebecca. “Are you disappointed in me, darling?”

She playfully pushed at his chest. “I’ll have to let you know after I hear Susanna’s story.”

“We all have much to discuss,” Leo said meaningfully.

Susanna looked around at the four other participants in the wager that had changed the very course of their lives. It was almost over, but the outcome could still affect her marriage. “First, I need to speak with Rebecca and Elizabeth alone.”

“Should we allow it?” Peter drawled.

Leo sighed. “We have no choice.”

“Is this Leo talking,” Lord Parkhurst asked with exaggerated astonishment, “bowing to the wishes of a woman?”

“You aren’t married yet,” Leo responded.

Susanna found herself smiling before a thought made her hesitate. To Leo, she said, “I would understand if instead of waiting for me, you wanted to see some of your other friends tonight.”

Would he desert her now that he was back in London? She told herself that she had her own friends she wished to spend time with. She could not deny him the same.

He shrugged. “If your family will have me, I’ll remain until you’re ready to leave. We can gather the rest of your things another time.”

Susanna tried not to show her relief.

T
he three women retired to Susanna’s bedchamber, where she sat her sister and cousin on the bed and stared at them, hands on her hips.

“This is surely too much of a coincidence,” Susanna said in her best governess voice. “All three of us engaged or married to the three men who humiliated us with that foolish painting? How did this happen?”

Elizabeth grinned and shrugged. “I never imagined it
could
happen, but it did.”

“We’re only engaged,” Rebecca grumbled. “But you—married? To
Leo Wade
? Susanna, I would have thought . . . I would never have guessed . . . do you love him?”

“I do.” The truth came so easily to her now. She drew up her dressing-table chair to sit and face them. “He’s nothing like I imagined.”

“But . . . what do you possibly have in common?” Rebecca asked plaintively.

“What do you have in common with Lord Parkhurst? I do believe you called him staid and dull.”

“Well . . . that isn’t exactly true.”

Susanna rounded on Elizabeth. “And haven’t I heard you call Peter Derby an old family friend, more a brother than—”

“No! Don’t even say it!” Elizabeth said with a shudder. Then she gave a slow smile. “He definitely doesn’t treat me as a sister.”

Rebecca and Elizabeth shared gazes and grinned.

Susanna frowned. “And how have you been treated? Neither of you is married.”

They both looked so innocent that Susanna gasped. “Do not tell me—did you both
have
to become engaged?”

“Why would you think that?” Rebecca asked. “Unless . . . oh, Susanna, did that terrible Leo Wade do something he shouldn’t have?”

“The beginning of our marriage was less than . . . favorable.” She told them how she’d foolishly allowed herself to be compromised, how angry she’d been with Leo, but how very different he turned out to be.

“I love him,” Susanna reiterated, “but I don’t know if he can love me. Now that we’re back in London, he has his bad reputation to uphold. With so many temptations, perhaps being a husband won’t interest him anymore. Perhaps I . . . won’t interest him anymore,” she ended with a whisper.

“Don’t think that,” Elizabeth said, reaching to take her hand. “You are a wonderful woman, and he certainly didn’t have to marry you if he didn’t want to. His reputation couldn’t have been any worse, after all—oh, dear, I didn’t mean it quite that way.”

Susanna gave a thin smile. “No, it’s the truth. I have to overcome my silly doubts. So tell me about your adventures!”

Elizabeth talked about almost being forced to marry another man, and Peter stepping in as her pretend fiancé, when all the while he meant to become the real thing. Rebecca’s adventure was far more dangerous, concerning the necklace in the painting that turned out to be real, a rare diamond called the Scandalous Lady that had been stolen from Lord Parkhurst’s family years before. They’d been pursued by villains, and while Rebecca spoke, Susanna found herself gasping more than once in shock or worry.

“Susanna,” Rebecca said after a quiet moment, “you should know that Roger Eastfield was killed because he used the diamond in the portrait.”

Susanna gasped. “Killed? Roger is . . . dead?”

“I know he was a friend to you,” Elizabeth said with sympathy. “I’m so sorry.”

She and Roger had shared a love of art until his betrayal over that painting . . .

As if Roger’s name had struck a chord, Elizabeth gave a start, and said, “About the painting. It’s gone.”

Susanna gaped at her. “Gone? Someone bought it?”

“No one knows,” Rebecca said with a shrug. “It simply disappeared from the club.”

“So our wager?” Susanna asked.

The three women shared an uncertain glance.

“Have either of you told the truth to your fiancés?” Susanna demanded.

“Of course not!” Rebecca said. “We were waiting for you so we could make a determination together. But we wanted to win the painting, and now the painting is gone. It seems our part of the wager is over.”

“We can let the men hash out the money,” Elizabeth added.

“Regardless, the deadline is past, so it seems we won,” Susanna said. “Do we all agree that we can tell them the truth now? It seems like it’s time to go on with our new lives.”

Elizabeth’s eyes watered. “Oh dear. I never imagined not seeing each of you every single day.”

“Come now,” Susanna said gruffly. “We were not glued to each other’s sides. We spent time apart.”

“But we always knew we’d be together,” Rebecca said. “Now, we’ll just have to make sure we see each other several times a week. And soon there’ll be children, and walks in the park, and birthday parties.”

“No more waiting for the perfect husband,” Elizabeth murmured, smiling through her tears.

“I think you were the only one waiting for that,” Rebecca countered. “I had decided not to marry at all, that I wanted adventure. Well, Julian certainly gave me that.”

“It puts me at ease to know you’re both happy,” Susanna said with a peaceful sigh.

“And in love,” Rebecca added. “Take heart, Susanna. I saw Mr. Wade’s expression when he looked at you. I think he returns your love.”

A great weight of responsibility was now gone, and Susanna knew she no longer had to worry about Rebecca and Elizabeth.

It was time for Susanna to face reality. She had to see if Leo could be honest with her, when he’d spent so much of his life hiding ugly truths.

Chapter 24

T
hey could easily have had a suite of rooms at Simon’s town house, but Leo was secretly relieved that Susanna wanted to share just a bedroom and dressing room with him. Part of him had wondered if being with her sister and cousin might somehow affect their marriage, but she’d been calm and smiling in the carriage back to his brother’s home. They were able to surprise his sister with the wedding news, and Georgie had actually cried with happiness, to his embarrassment.

But now they were alone in their room, and Susanna had seemed distracted. Leo waited, knowing she’d eventually tell him what was wrong. He began undressing, and was down to his shirtsleeves when at last she stepped in front of him.

“Leo, I have some things I need to say to you.”

He wondered what Rebecca and Elizabeth had said to her.

“We’re married now, and I want to be totally happy—but I’m not.” Her voice softened. “I love you, Leo.”

That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear after the way she’d begun, but it brought him immense satisfaction and relief. “Susanna, sweetheart—”

“Let me finish. I love you, but that doesn’t mean I’ll accept any way you decide to treat me. I want all of you, even the truths you’ve kept hidden, the things you think might hurt me. Can you be faithful to me, Leo? Can you forget I’m not the sort of wife you wanted?”

He took her shoulders. “Of course you’re not the wife I wanted.”

He felt her stiffen.

“I wanted someone who only cared about my looks or money or standing in Society. You—you see too much, you know me too deeply. I can’t hide myself from you.”

Her posture softened, loosened, and she gazed at him with sweet longing in her eyes.

“Sweetheart, this is a more intimate relationship than I’ve ever had. I never thought I could be this happy.”

“Oh, Leo!”

She fell into his arms, and then they were kissing passionately, stripping off each other’s clothes, the lamplight revealing the creamy curves of her body at last. Every inch of skin he’d touched now shown with just as much beauty in his eyes. When he would have taken her to bed, she held up a finger, then rummaged in her open trunk and pulled out a long scarf.

“I can’t believe I never thought to look for the scarf from the painting!” he exclaimed, disgusted with himself.

“You wouldn’t have found it. It was in London all along.” She draped it about her and fell back on the bed, arms stretched over her head, back arched. She was the painting come to life even though she’d hid her identity well.

He came up on his knees beside her, let his fingers trace her curves, from the tips of her trembling breasts, to the curling hair at the juncture of her thighs.

“No wonder he wanted to paint you,” Leo said in a husky voice.

She laughed softly, catching his hand and holding it briefly to her cheek. “He certainly didn’t know how I looked beneath my clothing, Leo, but he made me feel beautiful enough to take the risk. I always thought of the painting as removed from me, the image improved by his talent.”

“Susanna, you were so wrong. He was only painting what he saw—a beautiful woman coming into her own, seeing herself as a sensual creature for the first time.”

Her smile faded as she stared up at him, and suddenly he thought she might be waiting for something from him. It seemed . . . pivotal, this moment in their marriage, and he felt uncertain. He retreated to the lightness that was so easy for him.

He let his fingers trail over her upper thigh, then stopped when he saw the small mole she’d been hiding from him. He chuckled. “This has been eluding me.”

She blinked at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“I noticed this on the painting from the beginning.”

She sat up suddenly, letting the scarf cover her. “And you were trying to see it, to seduce it from me.”

“I told you my intentions all along.” He smiled at her. “We’ve both been trying to win the challenge, but now you’ll have to concede defeat.”

A terrible dread settled over Susanna, much as she fought it. Her mistrust was always there, and now it struggled into prominence as if swimming up from the depths of a pond. She’d told him she loved him, and he hadn’t answered the same. She’d been a challenge to him all along, but she had no more passion to continue the game.

“Susanna?” He was frowning down at her.

“I let myself believe that you could change . . . just like I let myself believe I could trust Roger. He shared my sensibilities more than any other man had. He sympathized with my regret that I could never be a serious artist.”

“But you can now, with your father’s book.”

She made a sound of dismissal. “You couldn’t even tell your family about it.”

“Susanna—”

“Never mind. I’m used to betrayal. Roger betrayed me over that painting just for money. What I thought was private between us, he put on display for all of London to see, taking a great chance that I’d be discovered and ruined.” She closed her eyes and brought her knees up to her chest to cover her nudity, her vulnerability. “He’s dead now—did you know that?”

He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“All for money. The same reason I once thought you married me—money from the wager, money from my dowry.”

“You know I regret how our marriage began. I never meant to hurt you.”

“You never mean to hurt anyone,” she said softly. “I don’t know if you can change.”

He looked as if she’d slapped him, but the truth had to be said. They stared at each other, and in that moment, she wondered if her foolish behavior might very well drive him back into the arms of his London friends, bringing about everything she feared.

“I can’t talk right now.” She stood up and donned her nightgown. “I’ll cry and embarrass myself and prove how little strength I really have. I need time to reconcile myself to the truth of our marriage. Everything will be fine.” Her mouth trembled too much for her to continue speaking. She lay down next to him and turned her back, only then allowing her tears to fall.

Angry and indignant, Leo slammed to his feet. He was still dressed. There was no reason he couldn’t leave, because he certainly wouldn’t sleep now, after all the things they’d said to each other. He could go to his favorite gaming hell, where the bets were steeper, the clientele dangerous, the excitement greater.

And then he realized what he was thinking, and was ashamed of himself. Here she was worried he couldn’t change, and when things got difficult, his first instinct had been to return to his old haunts. How could he blame her for doubting him? He was doubting himself.

But he didn’t need his old world, where the glitter was tarnished, the clientele reckless, the air stale with desperation. Those people had nothing to live for but the roll of the dice. He had so much more than that.

Quietly, he removed his clothing and lay down next to Susanna. He could tell she was tense, but when he settled down, he heard her faint sigh. He lay still while his mind raced.

L
eo awoke without Susanna. Before his marriage, he’d always slept alone, made it a policy never to sleep in a woman’s bed.

But now the bed felt empty without Susanna beside him. He closed his eyes, reliving her pain. He hadn’t known what to say, how to convince her. He knew he should have told her he loved her, too, but she was so upset, she might believe he only mouthed the words to pacify her. He’d never said them before, never used them in a seduction, but she wouldn’t know that.

He sat up, feeling like deadweight. No matter how much he wanted to change, to face down what he’d become, he was still a man who thoughtlessly hurt women. Her pain last night had etched itself on his very heart, as if he could bleed.

Since discovering he wasn’t a true Wade, he’d been buffeted by emotions he’d tried to suppress, telling himself that eventually he’d come to peace with it.

But he felt . . . removed from his own brother and sister, as if he wasn’t one of them anymore. He’d had the solace of his marriage to Susanna, but now he worried he’d harmed that permanently.

She obviously didn’t trust that he could love her; she had insecurities about herself, but he thought they’d gotten past them. He’d been wrong.

He wasn’t the same man she’d married—he knew the truth about himself now. He was the son of a good man, born of love, not duty. His parents’ misery had nothing to do with him, and he didn’t have to let it rule his life.

How could he prove to Susanna that he
had
changed, that he really loved her, enough that she’d believe?

As he dressed, he discovered the note she’d left, saying that she was going to visit her sister for the day. He balled it up, taking out his frustration. She was going to talk to Rebecca instead of her own husband. They couldn’t ignore each other and this rift between them. Susanna needed some kind of sign from him, more than words she might not trust.

And then the answer hit him square between the eyes.

He finished dressing and ran down the stairs to the entrance hall. He started to pen a note for Julian and Peter, canceling their breakfast at the club, but they arrived before he’d finished it.

“I can’t go with you,” Leo said. “I have to locate the British Archaeological Association.”

Peter stared at him. “What are you talking about?”

“Susanna doesn’t believe that I’ve changed, that I can love her. I have to prove it to her.”

“At the archaeology association?” Julian said dubiously, folding his arms across his broad chest.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Wouldn’t flowers, or something romantic, work better?”

“That won’t impress her. It’s not what she cares about. I have to go.”

S
usanna sat alone in her favorite parlor at Madingley House, looking out the window. She’d spent much of the day alone, her thoughts awhirl, her guilt at her own behavior warring with her knowledge that she
deserved
Leo’s love.

“An invitation came for you,” Rebecca said as she entered the room. “Hand delivered.”

Susanna frowned. “I imagine there are people who still don’t know I married . . .”

“You’re married?” Rebecca shot back. “You spent the day here—how was I to know?”

Susanna glared at her sister even as she snatched the invitation. When she opened it, she read through it quickly, felt a hitch in breathing, and read it again in growing surprise.

“What is it?” Rebecca demanded. “Your expression . . .”

Susanna covered her mouth before a giggle could escape, as the first tears slipped down her cheeks. She held out the invitation.

Rebecca read it, frowning. “I don’t understand. This can’t be
your
Leo Wade.”

Susanna nodded, wiping her cheeks with both hands. “It is—oh, it truly is.”

“But . . . he’s presenting a paper to the British Archaeological Association? On what, for goodness’ sake?”

“Roman antiquities, a study he began as a child and put away for far too many years.” Susanna hugged herself with giddiness.

“He’s going to lecture . . . ?” Rebecca stared at her with consternation.

“It’s not for two months. Plenty of time to sort the remains at Woodhill Manor.”

“Oh. So . . . this is a good thing.”

“It’s a very good thing.” Susanna threw her arms wide. “It means he loves me! Oh, Rebecca, this mess was partly my fault. I could never trust that someone like Leo could love someone like me. I thought we had nothing in common. With one doubt, I let all my insecurities back in, the very ones I’d struggled so hard to overcome. I was the quintessential bluestocking, getting my revenge for being compromised, but maybe I was forcing him to reject me because I thought it was bound to happen. Rebecca, he took everything I sent his way without blinking. He—he really loves me.”

“Then what are you telling me for?” Rebecca asked, wearing a broad grin. “Go!”

L
eo buried himself in Simon’s library while he awaited Susanna’s verdict. There were books on antiquities from all around the world, Greece, Italy, Egypt. It was as if, now that he’d admitted a fascination, he couldn’t read fast enough. He’d almost filled a notebook with thoughts and analyses, and begun to keep a list of things he needed to do, starting with visiting the collection at the British Museum. He was filled with new purpose, a new goal, and it was as if the aimlessness of his life was in the unfocused past, something he had to go through but no longer needed.

Yet nothing distracted him from thoughts of Susanna. Every so often, he’d come upon an interesting fact, and think that he wanted to tell her, but she wasn’t here. He consoled himself with believing that when he was finished, she would sit in an assembly room and listen to his conclusions.

He hoped to God she didn’t expect him to wait the whole two months before she forgave him.

He worked late into the night, barely noticing when the servants lit lamps or brought food. When the door opened, he didn’t look up until he heard Susanna’s voice.

“Leo?”