Simply Scandalous (9 page)

Swale frowned in concentration. "Depend upon it,
I will! I will discover who has done this to me, and, by
God, I'll make him pay!"

The Duke smiled thinly. In matters of raw courage
and brute strength, his heir undoubtedly was one of
the best, but the Wayborn Affair, his Grace was certain,
would require cunning and intelligence to unravel. To
that end, he had already put the entire affair before
his man of business and the Bow Street Runners.
"Very well, Geoffrey," he said quite disingenuously. "I leave it to you. In the meantime, you are under a
cloud. What do you propose to do about it?"

Swale snorted. "Do? I shall do nothing. Why should
I do anything? I have been falsely accused. When
the facts are known, all London shall be begging my
forgiveness. But I shan't forgive them! Why should l?"

The Duke was less sanguine. "Let us be reasonable, Geoffrey. You will be living under a cloud until
the culprit is found, and it may be years. Indeed,
you may never be cleared entirely."

"A fortnight at the most," Swale protested. "I tell
you, sir, I am on the case."

"Even if you were to beard the villain in his lair," said
the Duke impatiently, "it is highly unlikely he'd admit
to his foul misdeeds! It is highly unlikely that he
should have been so obliging as to leave us enough
evidence of his guilt as will convince our friends! "

"My friends require no evidence," Lord Swale declared. "I am sorry to hear that yours do. Do you
think that Devize has asked me for evidence?"

"I daresay there always will be men willing to give
their daughters to Lord Swale," said the Duke exactly
as if his son had not spoken, "but I should not care
to connect my family with any of them, I assure you!"

"Never mind that!" said Swale. "That is the silver
lining to this black cloud of mine. I have no wish to
marry any of their hen-witted daughters, let me tell you."

"You will be allowed back into Society after some
time has passed, of course," his father said. "But,
amongst the best families ..." He shook his head. "You
will always be anathema."

Swale was not certain what anathema was, but clearly
his father thought it very serious. "What do I care for
all that?" he said, attempting the cavalier approach.
"If they do not believe me, they may go to the devil."

"There is one family whose assistance in this matter
would be most beneficial."

"You refer to the Devizes," Swale said wisely. "As I have
already indicated, Mr. Devize's confidence in me remains unshaken. We may depend upon him at least."

"Yes, the name Devize is not contemptible," the
Duke said absently. "But I was thinking of quite another family. A family whose influence in this matter
would be of the highest order. If they were to embrace
you, the rest of Society should follow its lead."

Swale cudgeled his brains. "Not the Royal Family!"
he exclaimed after a moment. "But, sir, you despise
the Royal Family."

"I refer, of course, to the Wayborn family," said
the Duke patiently.

"The Wayborns! " said Swale, abandoning the cavalier approach. "Have you run mad? It is the Wayborns
who have accused me!"

"Precisely. And if the Wayborns were to indicate by
some public action that they no longer believe you
guilty, would that not go a long way toward lifting the
clouds?"

"The clouds would undoubtedly lift," said Swale
with a short, bitter laugh. "The sun would shine, and
the birds would sing. But it ain't going to happen!"

"If we could convince them-"

"If I was to go to them with my tail between my legs
and swear to my innocence, you mean?" Swale scoffed.
"Abandon all hope of that, dear Father."

"Then there is the question of Miss Wayborn."

"I think the question of Miss Wayborn is better
left to her Maker!"

"You don't like her," his father guessed. "Too spirited, I suppose."

"Spirited! I should describe my own excellent sister as spirited, sir. The Wayborn is a man-eating tigress,
an amazon. Indeed, that's what they're calling herthe Amazon."

"I'm sorry you don't like her, Geoffrey. I like her
very well. Though, I must say, I had not thought her
capable of this."

Swale stared at him. "Do you mean to say you're acquainted with the Wayborns?"

"I am acquainted with Miss Wayborn. I danced
with her at Almack's only last week. I found her quite
charming."

"Charming!" Swale's guffaw was instantly replaced
by a scowl. "I say! What the devil were you doing at
Almack's? The place is nothing but a marriage mart.
I avoid it like the plague. Good God, you're not
thinking of making a fool of yourself with some young
chit? At your age, it's positively indecent! What does
my sister say?"

"It doesn't signify in the least what Maria says,"
said his Grace, considerably nettled by the unflattering reference to his age. "I've no intention of
making a fool of myself, as you so kindly put it. Your
own excellent mother provided me with an heir. I
have no need of a wife."

Swale's green eyes narrowed. "Don't say you were
browsing on my behalf!"

"You'll be glad to know that my efforts have borne
fruit. I had already narrowed the field to three when
this business of the curricle race burst in upon my reflections. Miss Coralie Price-"

Swale shuddered. "No bosom, sir. And no brain
either. I absolutely insist on one or the other. I don't
ask for both-I know it ain't possible."

"Lady Serena Calverstock. I knew her father, the
Earl of Ludham, when he was alive."

"She, at least, has some beauty," Swale said grudgingly. "I suppose I could marry good old Serena,
though she is older than I."

The Duke looked at him gravely. "She has violet
eyes, Geoffrey."

"Does she?"

"What if your son should inherit his father's hair
and his mother's eyes? Violet eyes, Geoffrey, and red
hair. Hardly a desirable combination. Why, the child
would be a freak! The idea is to improve the Auckland
countenance through careful breeding."

"Is it?"

"In case you hadn't noticed, what our bloodline
really needs is a truly fine nose. The Calverstock nose
turns up at the end."

'What do I care if her nose turns up?" Swale wanted
to know. "She's far and away the prettiest woman in
London."

"If you had a creditable nose, which you don't, or
unexceptional hair, which you don't, I shouldn't
mind in the least if you married her," replied his
father. "But, unfortunately, you have the nose of a
prize-fighter, and only half of it at that."

"I got it from you, sir," Swale reminded him. "Along
with my hair."

"That is no excuse," said the Duke. "Over the centuries, the Ambler family has accumulated land and
wealth and titles. Now, it is our turn to enrich future
generations of Amblers."

"We're going to accumulate a nose?"

The Duke nodded. "The moment I saw this nose,
Geoffrey, I knew we had to have it. It had the most
astonishing effect on me."

"Did it make you sneeze, Father?"

"I am perfectly serious, sir," the Duke said coldly. "The Ambler profile is profoundly weakened by this
snub nose of ours. Yours, at least, has a high, sturdy
bridge-Maria's is positively a pug! I want my grandson to have a nose worthy of our position in Society."

"I can't say I've spent much time looking at ladies'
noses," Swale said, trying not to snicker, "but let me
venture to guess. Miss Cheeveley? Or is it to be Laura
Ogilvie? Now there is a nose!"

"I should think it highly doubtful," said the Duke
with a touch of asperity, "that either Mrs. Cheevely or
Lord Ogilvie would encourage an alliance between
their daughters and one who stands accused of such
ungentlemanlike conduct."

"Well, it don't signify," said Swale stubbornly, "for I
don't wish to marry them, I can tell you. What clings to
a man like a limpet ought to be a limpet, not a female."

"Bravo, Geoffrey," the Duke said without applause.
"I put it to you plainly. If you do not marry the young
lady I have chosen, I will."

Swale thought it a good joke. He hooted with irreverent laughter. "You marry? Why, you're fifty if
you're a day! What about the nose? How's it to end
up on your grandson's face if you marry her? But perhaps you mean to do away with me and make my little
half-brother your heir."

His father continued as though there had been no
interruption. "I am confident that when the young
lady discovers you are not guilty of this crime, you will
suit very well. She is courageous and loyal. She will
stand by you come hell or high water, as the expression goes.

Swale snorted in derision. "I don't want a wife to
stand by me. I want her to lie down for a few moments
and then go away. I never met a female yet whose company I could bear above five minutes," he declared.

"Don't think I don't know what you do in those five
minutes!" snapped his Grace. "In my day-!" He
paused to gain control of his temper. "I need hardly
remind you that it is your duty to marry."

"Not, surely, at the tender age of twenty-five, your
Grace! Why, there are bachelors twice my age whose
duty it is to marry," Swale pointed out. "It doesn't do,
you know, to run a fox to earth before it's had a fair
run of the country."

"You are not a fox, sir," his parent informed him
acidly. "You are my son, and you are in a devilish
scrape, though you pretend not to know it. Geoffrey,
I had rather you were fifty thousand pounds in debt
than this! Do you think I care to hear the Ambler
name maligned, or my only son labeled a coward? A
despicable, cheating coward?"

"It is most unfair," Swale agreed. "And if you think,"
he added magnanimously, "that my marriage will put
an end to the scandal ... " He shrugged as one does
who has resigned himself to his fate. "Then I expect
there is nothing for it. I always meant to do my duty and
carry on the Ambler name and all that sort of thing."

"That is gratifying," said his parent, "considering you
cost me twenty thousand a year!"

Swale smiled. "I'll need more than that if I'm to
maintain a nose, I mean, a wife. I trust you to be fair,
sir. Indeed, I leave all the arrangements to you. Solicit her hand-or nose-and I agree to meet her in
due time at St. George's altar like the good son I am."

The Duke's eyes were veiled, and for the first time,
he seemed apologetic. "I'm afraid I would be unequal
to the task of soliciting her hand, dear boy. It was all I
could do to claim two dances with her at Almack's."

Much later in his rooms at the Albany, Swale related
every detail of the interview with his father to his
friend Alexander Devize. When he had reached this
point in his narrative, he paused to allow the significance of the Duke's clue to sink in. "I leave you to imagine my reaction, Alex. It is the Wayborn he means, you
see! Hers is the nose he wants on his grandson's face!"

Unlike his friend, Alex was neither stunned nor indignant. "Indeed," he said calmly. "I always said your
father was a sensible old bird. And the nose in question is quite remarkable."

Swale was almost purple in the face with rage, and
he did not hear his friend. "Of all the creatures in
London, my father would have me throw myself away
on that transvestite freak! Something about her being
ruined and how no respectable man will marry her
now, as if that is my fault! Naturally, no decent man
will marry her. Frankly, the thought of the Wayborn
bearing the offspring of a Christian man chills me to
the bone! I should rather ... I should much rather
marry the Calverstock!"

"My dear Swale, you cannot mean it!" said Alex,
laughing. "Serena is beautiful, but she is heartless
man, heartless. If she marries you, 'twill be for your
rank and your fortune. You deserve better than that."

"At least she is female," said Swale, "which is more
than the Wayborn can say."

Alex frowned. "They are saying worse things about
her in the clubs, you know."

"She deserves to have worse said about her," said
Swale furiously. "Damned unnatural is what she is.
What does she mean by grinding to a halt like that?"

"They are saying she gave birth on the road to
Southend and still had time to beat you."

Swale stared at him. "They are saying what? No, don't repeat it. No gentleman would say such a thing.
It's too sick-making."

"Quite," said Alex. "It is Lord Dulwich saying it, and
not a gentleman, as you say. Dulwich is such a notorious duelist that even Stacy Calverstock will not call
him out, though anyone can see he dearly wants to."

"Calverstock," Swale scoffed, "is an ass. If he were
not the friend of Cary Wayborn, no one would regard
him at all."

"Two younger sons," Devize said dismissively. "They
console one another."

"Oh, the Wayborn has two brothers, does she?"
Swale said. "Why does Wayborn the Elder not put a
stop to this wild behavior?"