Lady Iona's Rebellion (19 page)

“I would dearly like to know the identity of this adventuress of his,” Mrs. Luxborough said.

Iona’s knees turned to water. She grabbed onto the nearest display and held her breath, waiting for her world to come tearing apart. Waiting for Miss Cuthbert to spout Iona’s name with venom.

“Who told you about her?” Mrs. Luxborough pressed.

“Mr. Harlow did just this morning at the Pump Room,” Miss Cuthbert preened.

“He did? How scandalous!”

“Well, he was not precisely speaking to me. I overheard him telling my cousin, Mr. Jason Poole. Men can be such gossips. And Jason teases
me
for talking too much!”

“You are ever a tease, Frances. Tell me, who is this mysterious young lady?”

No longer pretending to admire the bonnets, Iona leaned in closer to make sure she too heard Miss Cuthbert’s whispered answer.

“Sadly he didn’t give her name,” Miss Cuthbert admitted, much to Iona’s relief. “But he did say all of Bath will be shocked when her identity is revealed.”

Not
if
but
when
?

“This is more thrilling than a gothic novel! And we thought there would be no excitement to be found this summer.”

Iona stumbled toward the door. Her father could be frighteningly formidable when crossed. Unbending when dealing with a family embarrassment.

She had acted selfishly last night. Why hadn’t she simply accepted her upcoming marriage to her cousin? Why had she dragged Nathan into her troubles?

Daring to grasp more out of life and follow her passions was beginning to prove more dangerous than she ever realized.

And, even though Nathan had fought against her every step, she’d pulled him into this budding disaster with her. She opened the door prepared to rush out onto the busy Milsom Street when Miss Cuthbert sighed, “I cannot help but feel a little jealous of the poor mite.”

“Jealous?” Mrs. Luxborough breathed.

“Just imagine, being caught in the arms of the devilishly handsome Lord Nathan Wynter. La, the wicked way he smiles at a lady makes my knees go weak.”

Iona shuddered to think what her father might do to Nathan in a fit of temper once her name was attached to his and bandied about the tearooms in such a sordid manner.

Mrs. Luxborough tut-tutted. “Do not feel too envious of the gel, Frances. He will break her heart as surely as the sun rises in the morning. And he’ll leave her in ruin. She’ll be nothing but another victim much like that other unfortunate young innocent he destroyed all those years ago.”

Chap
ter Thirteen

“Come in, come in,” the Marquess of Portfry said. An uncharacteristic grin was set on his wide lips. He’d been trussed up like a king in a superfine high-collared coat with gold piping that hugged his round form.

Nathan stepped into his father’s study, wondering if he’d perhaps knocked his head on the way over and was dreaming. His father never smiled. At least not in his direction.

He couldn’t recall a single instance when his father had called him into his study for any reason other than to berate him.

“I heard what happened, boy,” his father said.

He’d heard
? Nathan froze where he stood. The only thing he could think of happening to him recently was his taking Iona to his bed. “Y-you h-heard?” he stammered.

Perhaps his father was smiling because he was about to dispatch his disappointment of a second son once and for all. Put a bullet in his gullet and send him directly into the depths of hell.

Wasn’t that what Nathan had been told time and again? That if he dared touch another innocent, his own father would gladly kill him?

The old codger certainly looked oddly cheerful this morning. There was a bright, healthy color in his round cheeks. He was seated behind an ancient mahogany desk that had come with the furnished Royal Crescent townhouse. His elbows were propped on the desk’s smooth top and his fingers were steepled in front of his long nose.

“Don’t stand there gaping, boy. Come.” The Marquess gestured toward an empty leather chair set up in front of the desk. “Sit.”

“Really, sir?” His father had never invited him to have a seat in his study.

At his father’s nod, Nathan sank into the nearest chair.

“She came by to visit me this morning,” the Marquess said. “And she told me everything.”

Nathan swallowed hard. “Everything, sir?”

He couldn’t imagine what mischief Iona could be up to. Why in blazes would she visit his father? And tell him
everything
?

Perhaps she’d changed her mind about their need to marry. But why go to his father instead of directly to him?

“I think the match will be a blessing for both our families,” his father was saying. He couldn’t have looked more pleased. Nathan released the breath he’d been holding. Even if he didn’t understand Iona’s motives, he couldn’t find it in himself to feel upset over them. “Of course your marriage will show those society biddies that you’ve reformed your wicked ways. You have, haven’t you?”

Nathan nodded.

“Good. Good. Did you know her first husband was nearly as rich as Croesus? What a coup it will be for our family to take control of such vast holdings.”

Her first husband
? Nathan suddenly felt ill. Iona hadn’t visited the Marquess. She hadn’t demanded that Nathan needed to marry her.

He should have known better. He should have remembered that in the midst of his very busy morning, there had been one other offer made.

“Jane,” he said.

“She naturally wanted to speak to me about your financial stability. I say, there’s a solid head on her shoulders. Not many women would make sure she wasn’t landing a fortune hunter.”

It was true. Mrs. Jane Sharpes had proposed they join forces. She’d said she needed a hand with managing her husband’s vast estate’s holdings as well as a friendly companion to keep her bed warm at night.

“She has only spoken to me about the possibility of marriage this morning. No formal decisions have been made yet, sir,” Nathan warned.

“But in due time you will do the right thing,” his father said, sending him a hard look. “Shall we adjourn into the parlor and have a drink to celebrate?”

“Of-of course, sir.” Nathan launched from his chair and offered his father a hand. After hauling the old fellow to his feet, they walked side by side to the adjoining room.

His father was offering Nathan the chance to be welcomed back into the ranks of his family. It was a most enticing reason to accept Jane’s marriage proposal. He couldn’t help but be sorely tempted and deeply affected by his father’s budding approval. But deep down he knew he had to ultimately refuse. He’d gone and done what everyone had expected of him. He’d ruined an innocent. Worse, ruined an innocent he dearly loved.

So instead of sharing in his father’s happiness, his thoughts were turning to Iona.

He could still feel the lingering heat of her silky skin clinging to his body. And, when he closed his eyes, he could hear her soft moans of pleasure as he helped her find her completion. Though he’d had no right to take her to his bed last night, he couldn’t deny that it had happened.

Her future, her happiness was now his responsibility. He simply needed to figure out how to convince her to let him do the right thing and marry her.

Perhaps his father would be just as pleased with Iona as he appeared to be with the prospect of welcoming Jane into the family.

After waving off Nathan’s supporting hands, the Marquess lowered himself into a leather armchair as if it were his throne and then propped his gout-plagued leg up onto a needlepoint-covered stool. A few barked commands later, the servants were running to fetch the drinks and the Marquess was forging into a story about how he’d purchased Holme Crossing, the property adjacent to their ancestral lands. And, amazingly, smiled—he smiled at his second son.

For the first time in a long time, Nathan felt truly welcome in his father’s presence. And comfortable.

And then Edward sauntered into the room.

* * * * *

“With all due respect, sir, if left to his own devices Edward will bankrupt the estate,” Nathan had found himself arguing not long thereafter. The pleasant moment he had shared with his father had swiftly ended soon after Edward’s appearance.

Now, several hours later and in the heat of the day, Nathan rode with Talbot and a couple of Talbot’s friends across the Avon and up the hill to Prior Park. There he reined in his filly, Jezebel, and parted company with the gentlemen. He slowed Jezebel’s pace and steered her toward the shade of a leafy bower. His friends rode on ahead toward a gaggle of ladies who were strolling through a roofed Palladian bridge.

He immediately recognized Iona amongst the group. Several strands of her long blonde hair had escaped the confines of her wide-brimmed bonnet and waved in the summer breeze with a hoyden’s freedom down the back of her willow green walking dress. She stood next to a pedimented pavilion on one end of the bridge, apart from the other ladies. She looked terribly small and alone as she tossed breadcrumbs into the mirrored lake the ornate bridge traversed. Two white trumpeter swans were chasing each other, vying for her undivided attentions.

Nathan understood their frustrations. Instead of riding up to greet her, he sought the solace of the gentle wilderness. Unfortunately no amount of calm could keep the echoes of his father’s words from assaulting him.

“What trickery are you serving me this time, boy?” his father had demanded before banging his fist against a delicate rosewood table and splintering its center leg with a loud crack.

“None, sir. I assure you.” A few months earlier he had approached his father with these same concerns over Edward’s dealings with the estate and had run up against deaf ears. This time, with Miss Darly added to the list of troubles, he had hoped he’d be able to convince his father to listen.

“Do not listen to him, Father,” Edward had said. A vicious edge had infected his naturally smooth voice. “I can explain away his outrageous charges against me. But he cannot explain away what he has done.”

Nathan cursed as he remembered the hatred darkening Edward’s face during that harrowing moment. Jezebel’s ears twitched with alarm. The young filly danced sideways, anxious to break out into a hard run. Nathan bent down and patted the mare’s neck, cooing soft, meaningless sounds that seemed to soothe her.

If only his own concerns could be so easily chased away.

Edward, with his deceptively angelic face and quick tongue, always seemed able to sway their father’s opinions.

The heir and flawless scion of the Portfry name, who soaked up his parents’ affection like a sponge, chose to stand directly in front of Nathan. With his back to his own brother, Edward dealt a killing blow.

“All of Bath is awash with concern this morning, Father,” he said. “Despite the concern and charity you heaped upon him that first time, his actions once again soar beyond the pale. Scandalous whispers claim that he has spent the past week leading a young lady of considerable standing down the steep path to ruin. And not just any lady but an innocent whose reputation up until now has been beyond reproach.”

Beyond reproach.

Iona was known by all and sundry as the good daughter, the obedient one. She sipped her tea with the elegance of a queen and comported herself with an unemotional ease that elevated her cultured ennui into a kind of art form.

It was that beautiful reputation of hers—her exquisite perfection—Nathan had hoped to exploit. To use her to wash the stain of
bad seed
forever from his life.

If she could love him, chinks and all, then perhaps her affection could change his parents’ poor opinion of him. Perhaps they too could learn to love…

But now that was probably an impossibility. Now everyone would be looking for her—this unfortunate paragon he supposedly seduced—and all because someone had been spreading rumors.

After his meeting with his father had ended in failure, he had gone straight to the apartments at Saw Close in order to confront Talbot. He’d mercilessly shaken the poor man until Talbot had turned blue in the face. Which accomplished nothing.

Coughing and rubbing his neck, Talbot had vowed on his grandfather’s tomb that he hadn’t revealed to anyone, save Nathan, how he’d seen through Lady Iona’s shocking masquerade.

But if Talbot had seen through Iona’s disguise last night, there was no telling how many more gentlemen visiting Goldsmith’s had seen through it as well.

Which meant Iona’s reputation was teetering on a very sharp edge. And not just because she’d played the part of rogue last night—that alone could be overlooked as a playful farce. What had Nathan worried was that his name was quickly becoming associated with her antics. And such an association could only harm both of them.

No doubt, any association she might have with him, even an innocent conversation taking place under the watchful eyes of polite society, would be met with raised brows and speculations.

An overwhelming sense of loss washed over him as he wandered into the depths of Prior Park’s forest. The chance to repair the shattered relationship with his father and mother had likely slipped away forever with the dawning of this latest rumor.

Hell, his father hadn’t even paused to question whether it was true.

“What? What? You’ve ruined another young lady?” he had shouted, his voice echoing throughout the townhouse. “What madness is this?” He heaved a deep breath that did nothing to drain the puce color flushing his cheeks. “My own flesh and blood has soiled yet another of England’s precious flowers? What madness is this?” he repeated through a tightening wheeze.

Nathan had rushed forward to help his father when the old codger had started to choke on a fit of thick coughs.

Edward held his ground, his cool gaze fixed on the Marquess and his awful struggles for breath. “I believe my brother is trying to deflect blame by concocting this tale about my careless involvement with an actress,” he said in an emotionless voice that sent a chill sailing straight through Nathan.

“Never again—” the Marquess had started to say before another fit of sharp coughs hit him. Nathan pounded on his father’s broad back several times to help clear his chest.

“Leave me,” the Marquess whispered once he’d regained the barest strength necessary for speech. He swallowed hard. “Do not come back unless sent for. If I learn these rumors are indeed true, boy, I will take up a horsewhip against you.”