Simply Scandalous (15 page)

"Whether or not I hold my father in high esteem
is none of your business," he informed her. "If you
think the old fool is going to marry you, you are
sadly deceived."

She laughed shortly. "Is that why you're here,
Ginger? You needn't have troubled yourself. Any alliance between the Aucklands and the Wayborns
clearly is impossible."

He drew in a smoldering breath. "You persist in
your accusations against me?"

She did not answer for a moment. The crow she had
been forced to eat was sticking in her throat. "I
expect, if you say you are innocent-"

"I say nothing of the kind!" he responded antagonistically.

"Very well!" she said impatiently. "I am satisfied that if you had wanted my brother's arm broken,
you would have done it yourself. I don't doubt you are
a thorough villain-you have a filthy temper-but no
one could mistake you for a mastermind. I expect
acting through proxies would but little satisfy your lust
for violence. Indeed, I don't suppose it would ever
occur to you. Yours is a simple mind, I collect."

"Your compliments put me to the blush, madam,"
he said, grimacing.

"Well," she said, shrugging her shoulders, "you
need not come to dinner, you know. You are not
really wanted, and we have nothing in the house but
mutton."

"But your cousin has been gracious enough to
invite me, and seized by temporary madness, I have
accepted," he said. "What a splendid relative you
have in the Reverend Dr. Cary! First, he accuses me
of sabotage; then he tries to toadeat me!"

"Toadeat!" Her eyes blazed. "Why, you are a Barbary
ape! No, I tell a lie-"

"What? Another lie?" he taunted her.

"A Barbary ape would have more brains," she told
him. "Dr. Cary did not ask you to dinner out of any
deference to your rank, you know."

"What was it then? My polished manners? My stern
good looks?"

"You were stupid enough to tell Mrs. Gary you had
something particular you wished to say to me," she
very kindly explained. "They think you have come
here to press your suit."

"My valet does that," he said scornfully.

"Not very well by the looks of you," she retorted. "In
any case, you see how you will not be wanted for
dinner. They will think I have refused you, that's all."

"Ha!" he said, reddening. "You would like that, wouldn't you? You would like it spread about that
you declined an offer of marriage from the Marquess
of Swale!"

"You must take your lumps, Ginger," she told him
heartlessly. "If you are fool enough to come running
after a girl because you have something particular you
wish to say to her, well, hard cheese on you if people
are misled! As it is, I'd say you were getting away with
hardly any damage. Just imagine the spot you'd be in
if I told the Reverend Dr. Cary that, whilst we were admiring his rhododendrons, I entertained ... and
accepted ... Lord Swale's offer of marriage!"

He stared at her, openmouthed. "Of all the mean
tricks-! "

"I daresay," she went on amiably, "if you were at all
good-looking or gentleman-like, I might be tempted
to use you so shamefully, for what girl would not like
to be a Marchioness? But you, my dear Ginger, are a
pill that cannot be gilded. If you were to get down on
your knees and beg me to be your wife, I would not
scruple to laugh in your face!"

"Let us be clear about one thing, madam! I did not
come here to ask you to marry me."

"No," she said, smiling triumphantly. "You came
here to ask me not to marry your father! Well, I will
marry old Auckland if I wish to, and that is all I have
to say about it." She turned abruptly on her heel and
walked away, saying, "I will make your excuses to
Cousin Wilfred. Good-bye, Ginger! Go back to
London. There are many, many lovely things you can
break in the British Museum, you know."

Seething with unrequited rage, he walked rapidly
back to the Tudor Rose. Not even Mrs. Sprigge's
rabbit pies could soothe him. "Dust off the old dinner jacket, and look sharp about it!" he told Bowditch. "I
am invited to dine at the Vicarage tonight."

Bowditch beamed at his master. "I take it the conquest has been made, my lord?"

"What conquest?"

"I take it your lordship has succeeded in winning
Miss Wayborn's affection?"

"Oh, that conquest."

"It must be going well if Miss Wayborn has invited
your lordship to dine at the Vicarage," Bowditch pointed
out, unable to fathom his master's black mood.

"The bloody harpy cornered me in the shrubbery! "
Swale swore violently as he ruined the neckcloth he
was attempting to tie. "The shrubbery, Bowditch. You
may imagine what I felt. Then she threatened to tell
her cousin that I had asked her to marry me. She had
the temerity to suggest it was my own fault for saying
I had something particular I wished to say to her."

Bowditch recoiled. "My lord! Do you mean to say
you are engaged to Miss Wayborn?"

"Don't be an ass, Bowditch!"

"No, my lord."

"I, engaged to the female plague? No, she declined
to spring her trap on me."

"That is very fortunate, my lord."

"We are to understand," said Swale angrily, "that my
person does not attract her sufficiently. My person,
you understand, is repugnant to Miss Wayborn."

"I see, sir."

"Not even my rank is sufficient to tempt her, you
collect. I am a pill that cannot be gilded. I am an
orangutan. Incidently, you do not press my suits to
Miss Wayborn's satisfaction. You must do better,
Bowditch."

Bowditch, who had never pressed his lordship's suits
to anyone's satisfaction, started in surprise. "My lord?"

"I won't have her sniping at me," said Swale. "I
can't help my face, which she does not like, but I
won't have her sniping at my clothes. They are expensive clothes, are they not? With a little care,
Bowditch, I am convinced they might be made to
look expensive."

"Does your lordship mean to dine with Miss Wayborn after all?"

"The Vicar invited me, and I accepted," Swale said
piously. "It would be churlish of me to break the
engagement."

"I expect she has refused him," said Dr. Cary with
a sigh. "If his lordship does not mean to dine with us,
I expect she has refused him. Do you suppose we
might ask her, my dear?"

His wife, who was busily sorting shards of porcelain
at his desk, was giving him but half her attention. "Ask
who what, my dear?" she said absently.

"Ask Juliet if she has refused the Marquess," said the
Reverend.

Mrs. Cary gasped. "You can't ask a young woman
whether or not she has refused an offer of marriage,
Dr. Cary. That is rather a personal matter."

"I don't wish to ask her," he replied. "But if she has refused him-if there is no possibility of the marriageI should like to be compensated for the damages. Or we
might throw Cynthia in his way. She's very pretty. She
might tempt him. His Grace of Auckland has many livings in his gift, you know. There might be a bishopric
for me yet, Mrs. Cary! I wish I were her father-I would
make her marry him."

This caught Mrs. Cary's attention. "But you are
Cynthia's father, my dear."

"Hm-m? Yes, I know I am Cynthia's father," he
snapped. "I wish I were Juliet's. Then I could make her
marry Lord Swale. What does she mean refusing an
offer that she is a good fifty thousand pounds shy of
deserving?"

"Well, if she does not wish to marry him, my dear,
it is only right that she should refuse him," Mrs. Cary
said sensibly. "Even the most bashful girl must see it
is her duty to be disobliging on such an occasion. I
daresay it can be mended," she added hopefully.

"Mended!" cried Dr. Cary, forgetting in his upheaval the fractured shepherdess his wife was sweeping into a box. "But what it would have meant to our
Cynthia! That is what occupies my mind. Why, if her
cousin were Marchioness of Swale, that would throw
open the doors of the very best society there is."

"And some of the very worst," she told him wisely.
"Pray, do not trouble yourself about it, my dear. Put
it out of your mind."

"I fear that one day, Juliet will come to regret her
stupidity," Dr. Cary said forebodingly. "One does not
lightly spurn a nobleman of his lordship's rank and
fortune. And such a disagreeable man he is, too. Full
of bile, I think. He will make her miserable for refusing him. She would have done better to accept him,
no matter how much she dislikes him."

"Better he make her miserable for refusing him
than for accepting him," said Mrs. Cary. "It is possible
for even the most agreeable suitor to prove himself a
disagreeable husband, but if a man does not trouble
to make himself agreeable before the marriage, he
can scarcely be expected to make himself agreeable after. "

Dr. Cary was forced to admit the wisdom of this
assessment, though it pained him to relinquish the
Marquess from his imagination. "Why could he not
be well-favored and agreeable as a Marquess ought to
be?" he moaned.

Down in the garden, Juliet and Cynthia were discussing this very thing.

"Well, Cynthia!" said Juliet. "I did not exaggerate
when I described Lord Swale as a stableboy with
nettlerash."

"His hair really is quite horribly red," Cynthia murmured. "I thought he was going to hit Papa."

"Why do gentlemen persist in marrying attractive
red-haired ladies?" Juliet wondered. "Do they think
they will bear only attractive red-haired daughters?
Don't they know they are just as likely to give birth to
ugly red-haired sons?"

"I would not call him ugly exactly," said Cynthia. "He
is too terrible to be merely ugly."

"You would not call him ugly-not to his face, perhaps," said Juliet, laughing. "For he has the most
vile, loathsome temper of anyone I have ever met!"

"But ... Cynthia bit her lip. "You do not think he
is behind the attack on Cousin Cary?"

Juliet sighed. "No, I expect I must give all that up.
He is incapable of guile. His face bursts into flame at
the slightest provocation. I am inclined to think him
a mean-spirited bully, but quite innocent of hurting
my brother. He actually thought those paltry grays had
a chance against Cary's chestnuts! But then, he hasn't
very much sense."

"Oh, Juliet! " Cynthia admonished her. "Do you
not see you have falsely accused an innocent man?
Small wonder he is angry."

Cynthia was right. Juliet's cheeks burned, but she said crossly, "Rely on it-he has done something for
which he deserves a cruel setdown."

"Well, perhaps," Cynthia said unhappily.

"I expect I should not have said `if,"' Juliet admitted more gracefully. "`If I have wronged you, I am
sorry.' I should not have said that. That is what made
him throw the basket. Now there," she said suddenly
in quite a different tone. "There is a man who looksand behaves-like a marquess."

Cynthia looked up and saw her eldest brother walking toward them from the house. "Horatio?" she said
in some surprise.

Juliet pinched her arm. "Yes, you goose! Don't you
know your brother is the most handsome man in
London?"

Cynthia laughed. "To me, he is simply Horatio.
Do you not think his mustache rather too absurd?
Whoever heard of a seafaring man with a mustache
and whiskers?"

"I think they become him very well," said Juliet, smiling at the Captain. "Now, a mustache on Ginger-that
would be too absurd!"

"You must not call his lordship Ginger!" cried
Cynthia.

"Indeed, you must not, Juliet," Horatio, who had
heard this remark, said sternly. "It implies an intimacy
that, I trust, does not exist!"

Juliet blushed. "No, indeed, Cousin," she murmured. "I assure you it implies only my contempt for
the man."

"When I heard he had taken rooms at the Tudor
Rose, I was appalled," said Horatio. "Now I discover he
has been here, imposing himself on my pretty cousin."

Juliet, accustomed to his gallantry, did not blush at the compliment but laughed. "Rather his lordship has
imposed upon your father's shepherdesses!"

"Was that not your doing, Juliet?" inquired Horatio with a frown, for he had heard from his father the
tale of the playful basket tossing.

Juliet hurriedly explained. "I could not allow your
father to form any ill ideas about his Grace of Auckland, who really is an honorable old gentleman."

"Then ... Lord Swale has not proposed to you?"
Horatio seemed relieved.

"Heavens, no!" said Juliet, laughing.

"I expect the offer of a coronet would be difficult for
any young lady to refuse," Horatio said thoughtfully.

"Despite my youth," Juliet replied teasingly, "I believe I could withstand the temptation. He really is the
most disagreeable man. He shouted at me until my
ears rang; he flattered me with the sobriquet of
`harpy'; he told me how delighted he would be to
break my neck and how he wished I were a man;
then he topped it off by snatching my basket from my
hands and pitching it across the room! I wish he had
proposed to me. Then you would see how quickly I
could send him away with a flea in his ear! Not," she
could not help adding, "that he didn't arrive with a
flea in his ear."

"What has he come for?" Horatio wondered. "That
he would dare show his face-"

'Juliet is convinced he did no harm to Cousin Cary,"
Cynthia broke in. "You must not think him such a villain as that, though he does have a frightful temper."

Horatio smiled grimly. "And he came here to swear
his innocence, did he? I say, that's a bit oily, isn't it?"

"His lordship has many faults," said Juliet, "but
being oily isn't one of them. He resolutely refused to swear to me he was innocent, which I thought rather
well of him."

"Indeed?" said Horatio. "Then he has convinced
you he is innocent."

"He did convince me," Juliet admitted. "What's
more, he thinks he knows who did do it."