Silk and Scandal (5 page)

Once ensconced within the club, he should’ve known he would be thwarted in his quest. Instead of discussing the current crop of eligible beauties, his cronies focused their attentions instead on a certain bandit at large in the area. The criminal, it seemed, preyed on Lords of the Realm, the untouchable members of the Ton.

The Raven Rogue apparently had begun his career as a highwayman in the English countryside, but during the Season, reappeared in town, jumping from dark alleyways rather than rushing out from wooded copses.

Having seen the worst of the docks of Hong Kong, Nicholas lost interest in the gossip. Bandits and highwaymen? Damnation! What a lackluster group of milksops to waste time even discussing such a trivial thing.

Leaving the now dark rooms, Nicholas strode down the hallway and entered his study. The male lair of countless ancestors was an appealing blend of darkness and light. French doors led to a marbled terrace and roses bloomed in a profusion of riotous colors just beyond. Thick rugs, in hues of burgundy and green, cushioned furnishings that were massive but delicately carved pieces of mahogany. Studded leather offered a combination of comfort and practicality and added an earthy scent that mingled subtly with cigar smoke and roses.

Nicholas smiled faintly at the cheery fire left by his man. In anticipation of Nicholas’s return and knowing his employer’s habits, perhaps Rawlins knew that tonight, at last, his master might seek his own bed rather than the sweet, welcoming thighs of some beauteous widow or courtesan.

Even a certified rake such as he required sleep on occasion, but Nicholas wasn’t entirely certain rest would come easily. His prey had somehow managed to put his mind in a quandary that wouldn’t be satisfied until he had her safely wedded and bedded. Not necessarily in that order.

Removing his coat and cravat, he tossed both haphazardly over the back of the sofa and poured a dram of brandy from the heavy crystal decanter on his desk. Tossing it off with quick precision, he poured another and took it to one of the two large wing-backed chairs in front of the fireplace.

Pensively he stared into the red-orange glow, listened to the sizzle and pop of wood, and sipped. Sprawled thus, lost in planning his courtship, he started briefly at the sound of the door to the terrace closing softly.

He smiled. “Oh, it’s you, my dear.” He lifted his crystal snifter in cordial invitation. “Care to join me?”

An Li moved gingerly, quietly, into the room, and once more Nicholas was moved by her fragile delicacy. She shook her head, sending her long, luxurious hair into a sinuous dance. It was inky black, like his own, and fell in a river of light to well past her hips. Glorious stuff, that hair. Almost as glorious as her gentle heart.

Wearing a vibrant robe of gold and scarlet silk, she moved silently on bare feet to sink onto the floor just inches from his legs. An Li’s eyes, wide and black, with the prominent slant of the Orient, gazed calmly up at him as she draped an arm over his thigh and smiled sleepily. The gesture of familiarity was normal between them, as they were the best of companions.

“How was your evening, my lord?”

He laughed and held her small, pointed chin with his fingers. “My lord? Have I not told you that I cannot bear formality between us?”

She simply gazed at him before nodding. Then she asked her question again.

“Intriguing, I suppose,” he finally answered. Stroking her hair, Nicholas gazed into the fire. “Successful as well.”

“You find a lady to marriage with you?”

“Without a doubt. Eliza Grayson is a lovely young woman of good family. She has dark red hair and blue eyes. She is quite beautiful.”

An Li smiled and wrinkled her nose. “Wish I to have red hair.”

“Stop. You’re as beautiful as any woman I’ve ever seen and you possess the sweetest heart.”

“No, I am whore. No more than that. Not never.”

Sometimes An Li broke his heart.

He reached down and stroked her silky hair. “Shh, darling, none of that,” he said, wishing he had the words to ease her.

Nicholas had met her in Hong Kong where An Li was the slave of a wealthy merchant named Wang Xi Chang. As a baby, she’d been sold by her family to the Chinese despot who turned her into an object of sexual pleasure when no more than ten years old. By age seventeen, she’d seen the worst of humanity.

Business brought him to Chang’s palace. The trading of jade artifacts and silks had made the obese and obscene man quite wealthy. Nicholas disliked him on sight. Later, he’d been escorted to his room and had almost drifted off to sleep when An Li entered. Barely a woman, she’d been sent to service him.

Old scars of abuse marred her lovely back and her liquid onyx eyes were the saddest he’d ever seen. Almost childlike in manner, An Li touched something deep within him and his chivalrous nature rose strong and determined. That night he’d tucked her, untouched, into his bed and had sought out a comfortable chair in which to sleep.

The next morning, he left Chang’s palace with the promise of silks, jades, and one small slave girl.

She was a slave no longer.

An Li was fragile and had endured so much. The degradation she’d suffered was such that Nicholas treated her as a pampered, beloved sister. Despite her past, she retained her sweet nature though on occasion she struggled with a lack of self-worth. She believed herself unclean, though Nicholas strove constantly to disavow that notion.

“Talk something else please?” she said at last. “Tell me of beautiful party, pretty dresses.”

Nicholas smiled and told her the fairytale of ballrooms and chandeliers. He told her of the ladies he’d seen and how they’d danced with suitors, of the lush gardens and beautiful gowns.

“These people sound so fine.” An Li sighed. “Like fancy story. I should like... but no. Not good for An Li to be among English. They do not like my eyes or my skin.”

“For a certainty, that is their loss. Many people in many countries exhibit prejudice. England is perhaps worst of them all.”

She smiled. “This true. An Li is good friend. This their lose.”

“Loss.”

“Aye. Their loss.”

Nicholas’s smile faded as he looked at her. “Are you positive you wouldn’t like to visit one of my country estates? I know how you love the outdoors. You are so isolated in London.”

“You would be too lonely and so would I. I have been too much think. You must marry. This I understand, but what wife think of An Li? Will she send me back to China?”

Despite knowing with certainty that Lady Eliza was loyal to her bones, he knew very little about her other than that she was lovely. It shook him to his toes to imagine her a heartless, judgmental woman. Recalling her vulnerability in the garden, however, heartened him. The woman had feelings. But how deep did they run?

“I would never marry a woman who could not accept our friendship,” he said quietly. “Rest easy.” Now that he’d set his sights upon Lady Eliza, Nicholas realized there was much yet to learn but tomorrow was soon enough to begin inquiries.

Before long, Nicholas replaced his empty glass upon a nearby table and glanced down to see that An Li had fallen asleep. He smiled. From the moment he’d met her they’d been friends and he’d cared for her as he would any sweet child. Never once had he behaved inappropriately with her, feeling only the need to protect. Keeping her safe and away from those who would hurt her was a priority for him. Careful not to awaken An Li, he touched her hair. “What am I to do with you?” he whispered into the darkness. Tomorrow would be soon enough to consider sending her to one of his country estates and tomorrow would be soon enough to put together a plan toward getting further acquainted with a certain infuriating, impulsive lady.

* * * * * * *

When Eliza entered her parents’ sitting room, Millicent Grayson lay prostrate across a silvery-green brocaded chaise, clutching a cool cloth to her eyes. “Megrims again, Mother? Shall I fetch you something? A fresh compress, perhaps? A brandy?”

Millicent smiled and gave a trilling little laugh. “Goodness me, love, the megrims seldom bring me low these days, but when they do I am quite prepared to deal with them.

“They are not so bad as they once were.” She frowned a bit, then flashed a quick, naughty grin. “A brandy might not be amiss. Medicinal purposes, you ken.”

Eliza chuckled at her mother’s bawdy behavior and poured a dram from a decanter that rested on a small table near the fireplace. She knew very well her mother was prone to tipple on occasion. That and a penchant for gambling with friends were her only vices.

During the years since Lottie’s death, Millicent had become quite lonely due to the solitary behavior of her husband, who mourned in silence behind the locked doors of his study. Lack of interest in his family had, perhaps, caused his wife to find what pleasures she could elsewhere, and Eliza found she could not berate her mother.

Smiling, Eliza delivered the drink and settled herself at the foot of the chaise where Millicent reclined. Though deeply disturbed by the evening’s events, Eliza struggled to keep her expression clear. She must tell her mother about Edward and the scene he’d caused. But the Duke? Well, he would remain her secret for now. She simply could not have her marriage-minded mama planning a wedding. Eliza fought down a shudder.

Millicent took her hand and smiled. “So tell me, my darling, how was the affair? Splendid, I expect.”

“Perfectly. Though I wish you had been able to attend with me, Mother. You should get out more.”

“Balderdash! Balls and routes are for the young, and you, my dear, should be seen, great beauty that you are. I suppose you danced every dance with the handsomest young men of the Ton?”

The Duke’s face floated through her memory. In truth, she’d danced with only one sinfully handsome man, but her mother needn’t know that. She shook her head. “Not necessarily, Mother. You know, of course, how I feel about marriage. Despite your meddling, I will not submit.”

“Stubborn chit, but well, I still adore you.” Millicent sighed theatrically and Eliza could not help the surge of love that shook her. She dreaded the telling of the horrific confrontation with Stanhope, but knew it necessary. Her smile faded as she took a fortifying breath.

“Edward came to the ball, Mother.”

Millicent gasped and clutched at her daughter’s hand, all color draining from her face. “Never say it!”

“I must. Please try not to let it upset you, but it is true. He attacked me verbally in the nastiest manner and was carted from the place. Nevertheless, the damage was done. Gossip will be rife tomorrow, so I felt I must warn you. Papa, too.”

“Will we ever be rid of that odious man? My poor Charlotte. Could I but take your father’s pistol and shoot him in the heart. Alas, he has no heart and he has broken mine. Yours and your father’s as well.”

“I know, Mama.” Eliza wiped the tears from her mother’s plump cheeks. “Perhaps one day, someone will do us the great honor of ridding the world of Edward. Sadly, we must wait for retribution.”

Millicent rose and set aside her brandy and compress. Drawing a deep sigh, she pulled herself up to her full stature, which was petite at best. “I must visit with your papa, Eliza. He should be informed of this at once.” Moving to the closed door leading to the bedchamber, she turned, her hand at the doorknob, and smiled sadly. “I am pleased that you went out, my dear, but utterly saddened that Edward managed to ruin the evening for you.”

“It does not matter, Mama. There will be other parties.”

Watching her mother leave, she doused the lights and went to seek her own bed. Once inside, she leaned against the door and sighed, noting her night rail spread upon the bed and the covers drawn down. Pandora stood watching intently.

“Did ye tell er, m’lady?”

Seating herself at an antique dressing table, Eliza began to pull the pins from her hair. “Reading dreadful gossip in The Times does not go well with one’s breakfast, I fear. I had to tell her. There was no choice.”

“Well, at least the gossip shall not be all bad,” Pandora said with a wink. “Word should also be about regarding your dance with the famous Duke Weston. It will be noted, of course, that he danced with no one else.”

Eliza stuck her nose in the air as her maid drew a large brush through her hair. “I shall never let you come with me again. Your eyes are far too keen.”

For lack of a proper chaperone, Pandora accompanied her mistress to her entertainments. To Eliza’s chagrin, Pandy often escaped from the servant’s domain to peer out at the guests and blatantly spy upon her. “Mmm. That they are, m’lady. Keen enough to notice the bonny Duke watching you all night.”

Eliza gasped. “Never say it! Women are mere playthings to a man like Nicholas Delaford.”

“Ah but I could think of worse things.”

Eliza laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Incorrigible. Enough about the dratted man and tell me what gossip you gleaned tonight.”

With swift efficiency, Pandora put away the elegant evening gown and drew the night rail over Eliza’s head. “Lord Bailsworthy attacked the family governess and she, no more than one and twenty. Got her with child and cast her out, he did.” Pandy sniffed, affronted. “Miss Kathleen is with her da and mum, but cannot stay there as they have no notion that she is with child. Surely, they will toss her out when it becomes known. And that fine lord kicked her out without a reference or a farthing, the bloody bastard!”