Simply Scandalous (23 page)

Redfylde's lip curled in disdain. "Are you Mr. Wayborn's champion, sir?"

Alex bowed to him. "When Mr. Wayborn's attackers implicated my friend in their crime, they made an
implacable enemy of me. My friend's name is blackened, and while Mr. Wayborn is going to recover, it
was a very near thing. Whoever is responsible for
this outrage, my lord, will be found out. I am determined he will be found out."

Lord Redfylde smirked. "I wish you luck in your endeavors, Mr. Devize. Will you take up the cudgels for
poor Miss Wayborn as well? Do you mean to assist her
back into Society?" He laughed briefly.

"I don't doubt she has gone back to Surrey," said
Maria, shrugging her shoulders, "and has no idea of
ever moving in society again."

"I pray not," said Lord Redfylde with a shudder. "If
she has, I wish Sir Benedict would not call on me at Silvercombe. I certainly do not wish for my Lady
Redfylde to be nuisanced by Miss Wayborn."

Alex regarded him with loathing. If, as he suspected, Lord Redfylde was behind the attack on Gary
Wayborn, his lordship's disdain for the family seemed
singularly ill-bred.

"Don't worry on that score, my lord," Lady Serena
assured her brother-in-law. "Poor Captain Cary was
taxed with the duty of escorting his cousin into Hertfordshire, not Surrey. It seems unfair to burden the
lady's cousins, but we cannot blame Sir Benedict for
not wanting her in Surrey. I pity Captain Cary."

"Captain Cary!" exclaimed Maria. "That handsome
young man is Miss Wayborn's cousin?"

"I only hope," said Lord Redfylde, "that her unladylike escapade will not cost him his chances for a
knighthood. It was due to my influence, you know,
that he received his commission in the Navy."

"I had no idea she was such a hoyden," said Serena
with unwholesome relish. "I am sure no one was as
shocked as the poor Captain to discover her true
character, but he feels an obligation to her that she
is certain to exploit to her own advantage."

"It would seem Miss Wayborn has bewitched the
Captain, as well as poor Mr. Calverstock," said Maria.
She drew Serena away and whispered to her as they
took a turn together around the room. "I am loath
to concede anything to Miss Wayborn, but if Captain
Cary marries her, at least my brother and your cousin
will be safe."

"Your brother!" Lady Serena was clearly startled.
"What do you mean, Lady Maria? Do you mean to say
that Miss Wayborn has pretensions of becoming ...
becoming your sister?" She clucked her tongue. "She
must be a clever puss indeed to have three gentlemen
languishing in her toils."

"I don't care who the poisonous wretch marries as
long as it is not my brother! " Maria's dark eyes flashed
dangerously. "I married for love, and I am determined my brother will also."

Serena sighed wistfully. "Are you very much in love,
ma'am? Your husband, I collect, was a military gentleman. I hope you were not too long parted by the war."

"Four years," Maria said rather proudly. "Four long
years I waited for my Henry to come back to me. I
would have married him before he went away, but neither he nor my father would consent to it. I should
be free, they both said. What nonsense!"

"How dreadful it must have been for you, my dear
Maria."

"But how happy I was to hear of his advancement,"
the Duke's daughter replied, gazing fondly across
the room to where her husband stood. He was a
quiet man of thirty-five with a plain, grave face, but
she clearly adored him. "And how happy I was when
he returned to me. He is truly the best of husbands."

"You are very fortunate indeed," said Lady Serena.
"This dreadful war has separated some lovers for
eternity."

Lady Maria was startled. "You, Serena?"

Serena smiled sadly but apparently could not express herself on such a painful subject.

Maria bit back the hundred questions that leaped
into her mind. Her lover must have died, she thought,
giving the other woman's arm a sympathetic squeeze.
"I'm so sorry, my dear," she said softly. Then she
thought suddenly, Why should not my brother be the one to
console her? "We must distract you from your sorrows,
if we can. We shall take a small, intimate party to Vauxhall Gardens next week, and you shall be part of it."

Serena demurred. She would be far too busy
preparing for her sister's removal to Surrey to even think of her own amusement. And after that, she
would be in Surrey with her sister. She had no more
thought of returning to London until Constance was
safely delivered of the child.

Upon Maria's expressing every regret at losing her
dear friend to that unworthy county, Serena promptly
invited her ladyship to visit her at Silvercombe, and
this offer was promptly accepted.

The next morning, Lady Maria rose late and breakfasted with her husband. With a feeling of dread,
she picked up the society page of the morning paper.
Due to the scandal, her ball had not been a success,
a fact that she imagined the loathsome members of
the press would lose no time in broadcasting.

She nibbled halfheartedly on a muffin as she
scanned the vitriolic columns, and her husband was
thrown into panic when she suddenly began to choke.
Leaping to his feet, he pounded her on the back
until she begged for mercy. A cup of tea seemed to
restore her, but her face was redder than he liked.

"Read this!" she cried, pushing the paper into
his hands.

Colonel Fitzwilliam did not ordinarily read the
society columns. As a man of sense, they embarrassed
him. But dutifully, he read the offensive paragraph.

"Apparently eager for a Rematch with the notorious
Miss Whip, Lord S-recently pursued that lady into
the country, and it must be reported that she was
quite Overtaken by his lordship's Swift Maneuvers!
These two fierce competitors were seen racing North in
but a Single Curricle drawn by his lordship's famous
grays. Is it to be supposed that Miss Whip has relinquished the reins of her chariot to Lord S-? Or can it be that his lordship is content to be Miss Whip's
GROOM? Only Time will tell. "

Colonel Fitzwilliam was pale with disgust. "Good
God!"

"It is my brother they mean," cried Maria, tears of
vexation welling up in her eyes. "My brother and that
Wayborn chit! They mean to say they have eloped!"

"That cannot be true," Fitzwilliam assured her.
"Geoffrey would never be so undutiful as that."

"To be sure, my brother would not. But I don't
trust the notorious Miss Whip a jot! I will not rest," said
Maria, "until I have removed her talons from his flesh.
She is staying with her cousins in Hertfordshire. I believe I will pay the insolent strumpet a visit."

"Absolutely not," cried her husband. "I am persuaded there is not a shred of truth in this vile publication, but your going into Hertfordshire to quiz
Miss Wayborn will be seen as proof of it."

Maria did not like it, but she was forced to forego
the pleasure of telling Miss Wayborn to her face what
she thought of her. The rest of the week was a trial for
her, and by the end of it, she believed that Lady
Serena Calverstock was her only true friend. Serena
alone refrained from teasing her about the latest
gossip. Serena alone entered into her fears for her
brother's happiness. More than ever, Maria was convinced that Serena was the only woman in the world
who she could bear to see joined to her brother, and,
in due course, take her mother's place as Duchess of
Auckland.

The following week, Swale returned to London. As
he was now banned from the clubs in St. James's
street, he took up residence in Auckland House. The Duke was not best pleased with him. The initial interview took place in his son's bedroom several hours
before Swale had any idea of getting up.

"I told you to make her an offer, not elope with
her!" his parent began, flinging newsprint at the
figure in the bed. "You have bungled the matter
hopelessly, my boy. If anything, the scandal is worse.
But never mind all that. Where is your bride? In a few
years, no one will remember that you eloped."

Great was the father's disappointment when Swale
could produce no bride.

"What do you mean she wouldn't have you?" he demanded. "She is quite lost now to all good society
unless she makes a good marriage. We must appeal to
her guardian. Sir Benedict is a reasonable man-"

His son snorted. "He is not at all reasonable when
it comes to his sister, let me tell you! She hurt her leg,
Father, and I was not even permitted to see her. All
my letters and gifts were turned away. She wants
nothing to do with me."

"Then I shall go to Earl Wayborn himself," declared
the Duke of Auckland.

"Earl who?"

"His lordship may only be a distant relation, but he
must take an interest in the fortunes of his young
relatives," his father informed him. "He is the head of
the family. He will make Miss Wayborn marry you."

"Force her, you mean?" Swale thought of Juliet
being dragged to the altar of St. George's, pale-faced
and tear-stained, and then submitting joylessly to
him in the marriage bed. He flung back the covers
and jumped out of bed. "I wish you wouldn't, sir," he
said violently. "Do you want it said that the only way
your son could ever get a wife is by brute force?"

"If Miss Wayborn does not know what is in her best
interest, then so be it," snapped the Duke, but Swale knew him well enough to know he was deeply
distressed. "What sort of marriage does she expect
to make now? Oh, she's quite celebrated at the
moment among the young rattles and rakes about
town. But what happens to her next year when her
notoriety wears thin?"

"What rattles?" Swale demanded. "What rakes?"

His father waved a dismissive hand. "Does it matter?
No respectable woman will receive her. The Patronesses of Almack's are all set against her, I can tell
you. Indeed, they are so suspicious of the poor girl that
my perfectly innocent attempts to defend her have
only served to increase their suspicion. Sally Jersey had
the temerity to imply that Miss Wayborn is-is my
mistress! "

Swale turned white. He looked positively ill.

"Geoffrey, are you hung over?" the Duke demanded
angrily.

"Everything we do seems to make things worse for
her," Swale muttered. "And really, she is ... she's not
a bad girl. Oh, damn it! She's a magnificent little creature! I admit it."

"Well, if she won't marry you, there's nothing we
can do," his father cried in exasperation. "The ungrateful little wasp. My influence is not unlimited, you
know. I cannot merely wave my hand and make her
respectable. If your mother were here-" He snapped
his fingers. "Maria! Of course! Why did I not think of
her before? Maria will take her up, and all will be well.
You'll show her your hidden depths, Geoffrey, and
then, she will marry you."

"I'll show her my what?"

"Your depths. You've got them, haven't you?"

`With knobs on," he said, rubbing his head. "But-"

The Duke put one hand on his son's shoulder. "Good," he said. "I'm counting on you, Geoffrey. I
want that nose. You've seen the nose?"

"I have," Swale admitted, "and it is something to
behold."

"I told you," said the Duke, looking very pleased.
"Not too short, not too long, not too thin, not too fat.
Perfectly straight."

"It looks pretty nice when she wrinkles it up at me
too," Swale said, "and the gray eyes."

"They will not clash with your red hair," said the
Duke smugly.

"On the contrary, Father, those particular eyes
clash with everything."

"Well, then, what are you waiting for?"

Swale did not have the heart to tell his father that
he hadn't a duckling's chance in a maelstrom of
marrying Miss Wayborn. She was slated to marry a
man with no hidden depths at all, and a dead bore
besides. When his father had gone, Swale picked up
the pages of the Morning Post, but he could find no
announcement of a forthcoming marriage between
Miss Juliet Wayborn and Captain Horatio Cary.

One would think the Wayborns would have put the
notice in as soon as possible. Curious, he thought.
Frowning, he tossed the paper aside.

Alexander Devize ran him to earth the next day at
Auckland House and got the whole story from him.
"Do you mean to say the Wayborn had you in her
clutches and then she ... let you go?"Alex was halfamused, half-incredulous. "Full reprieve in fact?"

"Threw me back as if I were a bloody minnow!"
Swale flung himself into his favorite chair and reached
for the Madeira. In a reflective mood, the reprieved
man was glad of his friend's company. "When the effects of the whisky wore off, she had no wish to marry
me, thank God."

"Yes," said Devize agreeably. "It is always pleasant to
hear that a handsome, spirited girl does not wish to
become one's wife. At least, when the effects of the
whisky have worn off."

Swale's face turned red. "You know what I mean,
dammit! She could have had me with a word. The
bloody Vicar sent us out into the shrubbery right off,
then the bloody boots walked in on us at the inn
when I was kissing her, and Bowditch-!" He paused
to pour a river of Madeira down his throat. "Bowditch
was waving the special license about the place like a
bloody flag."

"I see," Alex said gravely.

"Even Sir Benedict, when he was apprised of all
facts, thought it might be his duty to bring about
the marriage, and that man certainly despises me."

"Indeed," said Alex. "You were seen mauling his
sister in the local tavern. What did you expect?"

"I can see his side of things," said Swale. "We were
alone in that beastly cottage for ages. The whisky on
her breath could not be denied. But, really, she was
in such pain! I would have done as much for a dog
with a hurt leg. I meant well."

Alex frowned. "If she were my sister, the announcement would be in the Post already, I promise
you."