One Taste of Scandal (16 page)

“A knight?”

“A baronet.”

“Ancient?”

“Thirty-eight.”

“Ancient,” Manfred said to his oatmeal.

“I suppose he is old enough to be your father. And he is a father, to a ten-year-old boy. His wife died in childbirth with her second child, seven or eight years ago.”

“He took a long time to remarry.”

“He does live in Yorkshire.”

Manfred smirked. “Are you going to accept him?”

“I think I must consider it very seriously, now that I have the earl’s approval.”

“What about your position?”

“Now that Uncle is paying for the boys’ schooling, it is less necessary that I work.”

“We don’t have to feed them, either.”

She made a face. “I’d rather feed them than pay for claret.”

“I’d hate to see you go, but it is best,” Manfred said.

“Thank you, Freddie. I cannot tell you how much I have valued your support recently. I will miss you too.”

“You are going then?” Manfred’s voice drained into a squawk. He coughed. “To Cousin Lillian’s?”

“I think I will go for Christmas,” she said. “Uncle says he will take the boys to his country seat for the holidays. You should go too.”

“Yorkshire for Christmas?” He swallowed wrong and coughed, the remains of his cold rattling his chest.

She patted him on the back. “The train shouldn’t be too bad. I might as well see the countryside at its harshest. Then it will seem very pleasant later.”

“You have a friend there too?”

“Yes, Constance.” She was surprised he remembered.

He shrugged. “You do send and receive letters to Yorkshire regularly.”

“Should I tell Uncle you will join him for Christmas?”

“No. I have commitments here.”

“Must you?” she whispered. “If I am to change my life, why do you not do the same?”

He glared. “You do not know everything, Magdalene.”

“I do not wish to meddle in your affairs, only to see you happy.”

“I am happy enough.” He spooned a large bite of oatmeal into his mouth and chewed vigorously, far more so than hot cereal required.

Steps shuffled across the threadbare runner outside the parlor door, and George walked in on stocking-clad feet, though he did have on clean clothes. He dropped into his usual seat, eyes half closed. Magdalene poured him a cup of tea and took the cover off the oatmeal bowl.

“Dry toast, please,” George said in a ragged approximation of his voice.

She pulled the rack toward him and put two slices on his plate. Manfred quirked the side of his mouth at her. She allowed herself to hope that things might get better for all three of them, and basked in a moment of nostalgia for the way things had been a year or two ago, with Nancy presiding over the teapot. Could they all find a measure of serenity again?

 

Judah did not walk to Trafalgar Square on Monday morning. Instead, he left early and went to Magdalene’s house by hansom. He arrived a few minutes before he assumed she normally departed, fighting the brisk November wind when he opened the carriage door and stepped down. After telling the driver to wait, he walked up the step and knocked smartly at the door. Under his gloves, his hands felt slimy with perspiration. His collar felt much too tight. Nonetheless, he felt the rightness of the question he was going to pose. A marriage proposal, yes, to Miss Magdalene Cross.

He had not queried his brother, or mentioned his plans to Gawain, or really, even, thought about it that hard. Still, she had been there in his dreams these past three nights. He imagined her filling his rented house with feminine geegaws. With all his money having gone to the ship, he had not done any collecting in India, so she would have a blank canvas on which to paint a proper English family home.

Not only that, he would be rescuing her from an unpleasant home. As an earl’s niece, she was a suitable choice for a marquess’s brother. It would have been better to marry money, but he did not really plan to live as a gentleman, even when he was in funds. They both liked their positions. He also knew she would be a good mother, thanks to her concern about her nephews. Yes, a cozy domesticity would soon repair his life from these long, lonely nights. He also knew she found him attractive and his nights would transform into sensual idyll.

Magdalene even knew his secrets, yet still treated him with respect. He could imagine the scene now, as he offered his hand to her in marriage. Her pale face would be transformed by a maidenly smile and blush, her fingers trembling as they met his. And then, a tender kiss that would turn into something warmer.

Just after Christmas, a wedding. They could start the new year together. He would build a family of his own, a true family. His wife, children of his own blood. No fashionable Society shenanigans with bed-jumping, gambling, or other dissipation. Just a nice English family.

The Crosses’ maid-of-all-work opened the door when he knocked, looking very confused when she recognized him.

“I thought we’d take a hansom instead of walking,” he explained.

She peered outside. “Well, it ain’t raining, but it’s cold enough.”

“Exactly.” He pointed at his muffler.

“Ye came from India, didn’t you? Must be hurtin’ yer bones.”

“Indeed.”

Behind the maid, he saw Magdalene coming down the stairs, caught a flash of slim leg above her half boots as her skirt swirled. He waved at her.

“You had an early start this morning.”

“I thought you deserved a treat after such long days Friday and Saturday.” He couldn’t take his eyes off her, though she hardly seemed to notice him as she covered her beautiful hair with her bonnet and her splendid form with the ill-fitting coat. He would cover her in silk and fur when his ship came in, and throw out the cheap clothing she’d been forced to wear. George Cross had a lot to answer for, dressing his beautiful sister this way.

He supposed all of Magdalene’s hardships had preserved her for him. If she’d had money, she’d probably have been snapped up during her first Season, rather than looking forward to what was probably her fourth.

He would save her from all that, and the censure involved with being a Scandalous Cross, tucking her into the warmth of the home she would make for them.

“You are smiling like a saint,” she observed.

“A saint?”

“It’s a peaceful, heavenly kind of smile. I do not think I’ve ever seen you with that expression.”

“Certainly not while frowning over frosting.”

She laughed, the sound reminding him anew of holy bells. “I was not pleased with the idea of the mechanical frosters at first, but now I think they will be an excellent addition.”

“Mr. Noble promised the first of them for midmonth.” He cleared his throat. How had business crept into this conversation? He had better things to discuss. “You look lovely this morning, Magdalene.”

She didn’t look at him. “It’s still Miss Cross outside the Fancy, Captain Shield.”

“Right, yes, of course,” he said quickly. She had been Magdalene in all his dreams.

“We should go so we are not late.”

“I have a hansom waiting outside.”

“Oh? Is the weather very bad?” She walked into the parlor and peered out the front window.

He followed. “No, I wanted a little time so I could ask you a question.”

“What was that?”

“Could we sit for a minute?”

She turned back, her dark eyebrows raised quizzically. He sat on the settee and patted the seat next to him. She tilted her head in censure, given the inappropriate nature of the gesture, and took the armchair next to him.

“What is it? I hope you are not going to ask me to serve at a party again. Or has Betsy given her notice?”

“Heaven forbid. No, neither of those things.”

“That is good, because I have something to discuss with you as well.”

He swallowed. “Do you want to go first?”

“No, Captain Shield.” She folded her hands in her lap. “I am all attention.”

His heart was beating faster than it ever did before a skirmish with the mountain tribes of India. He would rather lead a company into battle with nothing but a rusty bayonet than say what he had come to say. But of course she would accept and that gave him strength.

“Miss Cross, Magdalene . . . I know I should have spoken to your brother first, but under the circumstances, I would like to ask if you would do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

He reached for her hands but her gloves remained clasped, one over the other, on her lap.

“Captain,” she exclaimed, blinking rapidly. “This is a surprise for a Monday morning.”

His mouth had filled with saliva. He swallowed, wishing she had accepted his touch. She did not behave as he had imagined. “A happy one, I hope. I will speak to the earl if you think it proper.”

“No, no.” She shook her head. “That would not do at all.”

What was her meaning? “We are so compatible,” he told her. “You understand the joys of hard work, and you know how to live on very little. Your life will be easier with me. I keep two servants. I think I can afford another next year, a maid for you, or even a nursemaid.”

Her mouth set firmly and he had the sense he was digging his own grave, but he couldn’t stop speaking. “We are such good friends, you and I, and we both have felt the want of a warm, family home. I wish it for us both, a cozy domesticity.”

She remained still, not gracefully bending toward him as he’d hoped. “I had thought you unready to wed, with the confusion of your parentage.”

“I am tired of being alone in this world,” he stated. “I have been ruled by my fears, but if my parentage is unknowable then I must move on. I am sorry I cannot truly offer a marquess as my father, but you and I, we live on Society’s outskirts. I hope you think, as I do, that remaining on the outskirts is best, regardless of our income. We can forge something new for ourselves.”

“I do not wish to,” she said, unsmiling. “I like Society. I like pretty dresses and dancing and the opera. Flirtations and card games now and then.”

“You do?” He could not understand the appeal of such pastimes.

“Yes, I do. Economizing is not a pleasure.”

He pulled at his muffler. “But your home, it is not safe. I can provide better, possibly much better, in time.”

“I do not mean to stay here.” She shivered, too cold when he was too warm. “That is what I meant to tell you. I am going to leave Redcake’s at the end of the year, and go to Harrogate. I believe I have a husband waiting for me there. A family connection. A baronet.”

“You want a title.” His heat turned to ice. He sat back in the settee, tucking his hands into his greatcoat pockets.

“I want the lifestyle I would have had if my brother and parents had been more circumspect,” she said. “My birthright.”

“I see.”

“Also, you come from womanizing stock. I do not want a marriage like my brother’s. I do not want to be an embarrassed wife.”

He could not deny it. “And this baronet, he is the sort for you?”

“He was married before. His wife died. By all reports it was a good marriage.”

“He is older?”

She hesitated. “Yes. I shall become a stepmama to one boy.”

“Is the Society in Yorkshire good?” he asked, hearing the sarcastic tone in his voice.

“My cousin is there, and a dear friend. It is a spa town, not the desolate moors.”

He was going down quickly, but he rallied one last attack. “Men in my regiment, they are known for being steady and reliable, and never giving up. I expect to have money soon, and I have connections. I could try Society, for your sake.”

“You never lived in London. You do not fit into Society. You are a good man, Captain, a very good man, and I so appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I have made other plans for my life.” She paused for a moment. “To be honest, I am aware your family does not approve of mine, especially my cousin, Lady Bricker. I do not wish to be forced to take sides against my own family.”

Each phrase tore a fresh wound through him. Could he deny the tension between their families? No. He cleared his throat, gathered himself up. He saw no point in abasing himself. The lady had made up her mind. “I had best get to Redcake’s. Will you be joining me?”

“I have no intention of leaving until just after Christmas. I have not even told George of my plans.”

He bit the inside of his lip until he tasted the rich pang of blood. “I take it the earl knows?”

“He approves, yes.”

“Then I wish you happy.” He opened the parlor door and held it out for her.

She swept in front of him, graceful in her sad coat and sensible shoes, but far more genteel than he could ever hope to be.

His charge had failed. He would not win the battle today.

She turned back to him, just before opening the front door. “I am sorry, Captain, and I do wish you well. It is just that I have different ideas for myself.”

“I did not know,” he said. “I want you safe above everything. Again, I wish you happy.”

M
agdalene had found it hard to breathe for the past thirty hours, ever since she had rejected the captain’s marriage proposal. When the Marchioness of Hatbrook passed through the door of the Fancy on Tuesday, Magdalene’s lungs seemed to stop working entirely. Her stays felt three sizes too small. Would Captain Shield have told his sister-in-law what happened? Her face flamed hot with embarrassment, but she forced herself to return to the lacework icing she was creating.

“Alys!” Betsy cried, and ran to give the marchioness a hug.

Magdalene watched, dumbfounded, as Lady Hatbrook hugged Betsy’s round form. She might have thought they had not seen each other in years, rather than a matter of a few weeks.

“How is the baby? Are you feeling well?” Betsy asked.

“I am excellent. No more trouble in the morning.” Lady Hatbrook made a face. “I do need to acquire a new wardrobe, however.”

“Oh, I am happy for you,” Betsy squealed. “I would not know yet, though, to look at you.”

Lady Hatbrook saw Magdalene and gave her a nod. She returned it, her heart pounding.

“You are in Town for dress fittings, then?” Betsy prodded.

“Yes, Hatbrook’s sister is being presented at court next month. I took the opportunity to have fittings for myself.”

“You never cared for clothes.”

Her hand went to the drapery at the front of her skirt. “No, but I do care for comfort, and I certainly don’t want to refit my existing wardrobe. I am not such a fan of sewing.”

“Don’t you have a maid of your own now? I remember when you had to share with your sisters.”

“Yes, but Matilda has been very ill. Her confinement is only a few weeks away and I have insisted all attention be on her.”

“I see.” Betsy nodded wisely. “You might as well take advantage of the shops here.”

“And the modistes. But I did want to stop in and see how Redcake’s was faring. Is it as busy as last year?”

“Yes,” Betsy declared.

“You are recovered from your chill? Captain Shield said you had been ill last week.”

Magdalene still wasn’t sure about that. Betsy had no sign of a red nose or cough when she returned.

“I am very well, thank you.”

“Good. There is no time for illness in this operation.”

Magdalene hoped she had heard a threat in that sentence. The door opened and the apprentice baker bustled in with a tray of fruitcake, hot from the oven.

“Who is that?” Lady Hatbrook asked.

“Tom Mumford left to go on stage. This lad has taken over.”

“Who else is helping?”

“Irene.”

Lady Hatbrook looked inquiringly at the boy. “Very well. Why don’t you fetch us a pot of tea and a few scones, Betsy, and we’ll go over orders.”

“Love to.” Betsy watched imperiously as the lad deposited his cakes on a cooling rack and checked the oven in the alcove, then departed the room in his wake.

Magdalene tensed. She set down her icing bag.

“Captain Shield tells me you have resigned,” Lady Hatbrook said, when the door closed behind them both.

So he had told her something. But everything? “Not until after Christmas.”

“I see. I suppose you could not have expected to remain long.” Her voice was disinterested.

“I wanted to marry,” Magdalene said tentatively. “I think I shall, early next year.”

“Will you be out of mourning by then?”

“As soon as the time has passed,” Magdalene said, wondering if that would present a problem to the baronet.

“I hope in future the captain hires girls who plan a longer employment,” Lady Hatbrook mused. She wandered around the room, looking at the cakes in various stages of completion. “I cannot fault his hiring for talent, though. You do have skill.”

She stared at her icing bag, knowing now that the captain had not exposed her. “Thank you, my lady.”

Betsy soon returned, pushing through the door with a tray laden with a large pot, four teacups, and a tier of scones and sandwiches.

“You do understand a lady in my condition,” Lady Hatbrook said happily, pulling a stool up to the table.

Magdalene noticed that even though there were enough cups, none were poured for her or Irene, when she returned from the storeroom with containers of spices and dried fruit.

She and Irene began cutting up the fruit, but she couldn’t help listening to the conversation.

“How is the captain as a manager?” Lady Hatbrook asked. “By this, I mean, how is he in comparison to the last manager we had? He has been here just a bit over three months.”

“You let the last one go at three months,” Betsy said, handing Lady Hatbrook a plate.

“Quite. Your opinion?”

Betsy’s eyes met Magdalene’s over her teacup. Magdalene looked hurriedly back at the fruit.

“He’s a bit free with the ladies. Not like the other one. No hands on the girls, if you understand. But he is quite a flirt.”

Magdalene’s mouth dropped open. That was not true! Betsy had all but thrown herself at the man. She couldn’t help interjecting. “I’d like to know what you consider flirting, Miss Betsy Popham.”

“Every morning he’s smiling, and asking how I’m doing, telling me to come to him if there’s anything I need.”

“That is because you greet him at the back door every morning,” Magdalene said coldly. “Some might call that inappropriate as you should be at your post at that hour.”

“What about you? Coming in the door with him every morning, all huddled up under his umbrella like you’re courtin’,” Betsy shot back, losing her pretend gentility.

“Girls,” Lady Hatbrook scolded. “Irene, your thoughts?”

“He’s handsome,” the cakie said. “Any girl without a fellow would be a fool not to make eyes at him.”

“Who would you say is his favorite?”

Irene’s eyes darted from Betsy, to Magdalene, to Lady Hatbrook. “I think he’s nice to everyone. Mr. Hales does the rounds of the departments in the morning, and Captain Shield does the same in the afternoon.”

“They treat the girls with equal respect?”

“The captain is much friendlier,” Irene allowed. “But I’ve never seen him paying special favors.”

“But nothing to discourage their fancies either?”

“Well, no,” Irene said. “My goodness, it would take a lot for that. His eyes? Those broad shoulders? You know, my lady, being married to his brother. The Shield gentlemen, if you don’t mind me saying, are best of breed.”

Magdalene saw the marchioness’s lips quirk.

“How good of you to compare them to livestock,” said Lady Hatbrook, buttering a scone. “Is he too handsome to be let loose around unmarried ladies, do you think?”

“It is possible,” Betsy said, imitating her accent again.

“How dare you?” Magdalene said, unable to control herself. “You’d cost a good man his position because he is handsome?”

“That’s enough, Magdalene,” Lady Hatbrook said. “I will not have a raised voice.”

“I apologize, my lady. It is just that I feel the injustice of Miss Popham’s statement very keenly.”

“I am aware of that,” Lady Hatbrook said. “However, there are other factors to consider. I am very glad to hear there has been no molestation of the girls. It has happened before and I promised myself to be vigilant.”

“Soldiers have rough manners,” Betsy said, with a smirk in Magdalene’s direction.

Magdalene had little to lose, mentally packed for Yorkshire as she was. “Captain Shield is a gentleman, and an officer, no common soldier. He is the epitome of English manhood and that is why you have been making eyes at him.”

“Magdalene!” Irene gasped.

“It is because he is not interested in you, Betsy, not at all, not in the slightest bit, that you are so sour,” she continued.

Lady Hatbrook stood. “That is quite enough. You have curdled my tea, girls, and I was looking forward to that scone.”

“I am sorry,” Magdalene said. “I know Miss Popham is your friend, but Captain Shield is mine.”

“A strong statement.” Lady Hatbrook put one hand on her back.

She felt her lips tremble. “He bought me a coat and a bonnet, when mine were ruined. And he has done more, much more. He’s as good a person as you could possibly imagine. You are married to his brother. Please don’t let Miss Popham cost him his position. He likes it here.”

“You are overset,” Lady Hatbrook said. “I believe I should have had this conversation with each of you separately. But, Miss Cross, your loyalty speaks volumes.” She stood slowly and left the room.

Had she listened? Magdalene, Betsy, and Irene stared at the door as it swung closed, then Betsy turned with fire in her eyes.

“How dare you,” she hissed. “I’ll have your position for this.”

“I already gave my notice to the captain,” Magdalene retorted. “I’m leaving just after Christmas.”

Betsy’s mouth dropped open. “After all the training I’ve given you?”

“I do not think you will be here much longer, either,” Magdalene said. “You seem most eager to marry.”

Betsy’s plump face went purple. The door banged open and the apprentice slid in, a small tray in his hands. Irene dropped her knife and flew to the tray.

“Where are the rest of the cakes?”

The apprentice shrugged. “They burned, miss. I can’t say as how it ’appened.”

Irene threw up her hands in theatrical despair. “I needed those for a birthday cake! Now I’ll have to beg something from Mr. Melville.” She stormed out of the room.

Magdalene turned back to her lacework, ignoring Betsy. Though she did have to wonder why her comment upset the girl.

 

Upstairs, Judah saw his door open, and instead of his secretary, his sister-in-law popped her head in. He stood immediately. Did his family have to be in Town today, on the day after his greatest humiliation? He had not the heart to play the gallant brother just now.

“Alys.” He forced a smile. “I did not know you were coming by today.”

She lifted her arms, then lowered them again. He noted she had shed her outerwear already and wondered if she’d come right to his office.

“This is a very short visit, given Matilda’s condition. I did want to see my friends, though.”

No, she had been wandering the building. “Do you find everyone well?”

“I was a bit perturbed by a conversation I had in the Fancy, just now.”

And there it was.
Bloody hell.
Judah gestured her to an armchair by the fire and took a chair opposite. “I expect it is tense down there. Betsy was out ill for two days, and Magdalene worked twelve hours or more extra as a result. Even I helped out.”

“They are at each other’s throats,” Alys said succinctly.

He felt terribly guilty, knowing Magdalene had been working in an unsettled frame of mind, thanks to her plans. “I am sorry to hear that. Should I intervene? The scene was calm yesterday.”

“I am afraid it was the subject of you that had them perturbed.”

What had Magdalene said? “Really?”

“You must understand that management needs to set a certain tone, Judah. You cannot play favorites, or encourage any of the girls.”

“Is that what you were told?”

“It is obvious Magdalene is considered the favorite, and Betsy wants to be. The fact that you bought Magdalene a coat and bonnet, and apparently spend a great deal of time with her, will not benefit you among a group of young, unmarried women. You cannot be seen to have favorites,” she chided.

“Magdalene has given her notice,” Judah said, surprised by the path this conversation was taking. “I have tried to curtail Betsy’s interest in me, pointing out that I’m not her direct supervisor and that she does not belong in my office.”

“Of course she doesn’t,” Alys agreed. “But Magdalene?”

“That is a different situation. She is like me, of gentle birth but limited funds. We are friendly with her family.”

“We are not,” Alys said. “Her cousin is Lady Bricker.”

“I am friendly with her family, then,” Judah said, “though not Lady Bricker of course, as she lives in Yorkshire now.”

“I believe you should leave the hiring of lower staff to the supervisors of those departments,” Alys said.

“I agree. But you left the Fancy without a supervisor.”

Alys frowned. “When Magdalene Cross leaves her position, I strongly suggest no one replace her as your friend.”

“It is unlikely I would make the same mistake again,” he replied.

“No. It is hard for an unmarried man to work here, I believe. One is perpetually looking for a wife among the girls. Do you know, Betsy’s father had his eye on me at one time? Mr. Hales too, quite possibly.”

“I can imagine that. Ewan Hales may be courting Betsy now, though I had thought him situated elsewhere. I don’t know about her father.”

“You would do well to marry, Judah, if you wish to keep your position long term. You did tell me you liked it here. Marriage will make it easier. We do hate to think of you here, alone in London. Do you go out in Society much?”

“Hatbrook took me to one party. I am invited to a dinner at Earl Gerrick’s at the end of this week, but you probably will not want to hear that.”

“Anyone special for you?”

He sighed. “I had not planned to marry any time soon, Alys, but I did find myself proposing marriage only this week. The nights are long in London in the autumn.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I wish you very happy. Who is the lady?”

Judah shook his head. “She did not say yes.”

“No? Why ever not?” Her expression was half angered, half confused.

“The lady is Magdalene Cross,” Judah said, his voice constricting in his throat. “I learned she has a better offer.”

“Better than you? To hear her speak, you are a knight of old.”

“Really?” He found this curious.

“She defended you to Betsy Popham quite stoutly when Betsy inferred that unmarried women were not safe around you.”