The Scandal in Kissing an Heir (10 page)

Chapter 10

T
hings did
not
go according to plan.

When Rebecca awoke the next morning, she finished her toilette and started working on her watercolors while she waited for breakfast to arrive. Now was not the time to pack; she would do so later in the day when her aunt and uncle napped and she was unlikely to be disturbed by either of them. But when her aunt arrived instead of Wendy, who usually brought her breakfast, Rebecca set down her paintbrush and gave the woman her full attention. Something wasn’t right.

“I’ve brought you some sustenance,” her aunt said haughtily. Either she believed she was doing Rebecca a huge favor by feeding her, or she believed that having to climb all the stairs to get there had been a great inconvenience. Both were likely the case.

“Thank you,” Rebecca said. She looked warily at Laura, who’d risen as soon as Lady Grifton had arrived. She’d bobbed the expected curtsy and now appeared to be very much on edge.

Setting the tray on the table, Lady Grifton turned her usual scornful glare on Rebecca. “Frankly, I don’t know why any man would want you with that black hair and dark complexion, but then again, I doubt His Grace has any interest in what’s fashionable as long as you’re willing to tend to his needs.” Lady Grifton laughed. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the way he looks at you—I’ve no doubt you’ll be spending a lot of time confined to your bedchamber once he takes you off our hands.”

Rebecca chose not to respond to her aunt’s inappropriate innuendo with the scathing retort that sat on the tip of her tongue, for she knew that Lady Grifton’s sole intent was to provoke her temper. Unwilling to give her the power to do so, Rebecca told her calmly, “I’m sure you’re right, Aunt, and I can assure you that I have no intention of shirking my wifely duties.” Though she’d every intention of fulfilling them with Daniel rather than with Grover. “However, I do think it would be wise of you to remember that once I say my vows, I will be Duchess of Grover, a position that far outranks your own.”

Fury drew her aunt’s lips into a tight line. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, you impertinent girl. You’re still in our care, and as long as that is the case, you will do as we say.” Her features softened into a smirk. “Your eagerness for your new title is fortunate, though, since His Grace has just suggested we forgo the formalities of a lengthy engagement and the crying of banns.”

A cold shiver ran down Rebecca’s spine, but she managed to feign a look of genuine interest. “What do you mean?”

“I suppose he’s quite keen for you to be his.” The nonchalance of Lady Grifton’s tone was far from comforting as she continued, “He has gone to London, intent on meeting with the archbishop and acquiring a special license.”

“Oh?” Rebecca silently thanked God for her ability to keep her voice steady. She would not appear weak in front of her aunt by allowing her despair to show.

“He has asked that we join him later today.” Lady Grifton’s gaze met Rebecca’s with cold menace. “We depart for London in an hour, so I suggest you start packing.”

“But what about the settlement?” Surely there had to be a way to delay this. If she left now, she’d lose all hope of marrying Daniel instead.

“We are to meet His Grace at Grover House for precisely that purpose. Once that is done, it’s off to the altar with you.” Her aunt sashayed across to the door, where her pudgy hand found the handle. “Do I detect a bit of trepidation?” She grinned mockingly as she opened the door. “Your acting skills aren’t what they used to be, Rebecca. I can see right through that stoic façade of yours.”

The door closed and Rebecca realized for the first time that her whole body was trembling. Lord help her, she’d never been so livid.

“I’m so sorry,” Laura said from the other corner of the room.

“They will not win,” Rebecca muttered, her mind already working on seeking a means of escape. “I’ll find a way to stop this, no matter what.”

“But if we’re to go to London today and His Grace is procuring a special license, then I’m sure he means to marry you tomorrow at the latest,” Laura said.

“You’re probably right.” Getting up, Rebecca started to pace about the room. If she could only delay the duke’s plans enough to find a solution. She considered her options, and as she did, an idea began to take shape. If she could pull it off, then this would be yet another impressive scheme. Her adventurous spirit soared, and she turned to Laura with a smile. “I believe I have a plan.”

S
eated on a lovely settee of light blue silk, Rebecca waited patiently for her intended to make his appearance. He’d been ensconced in his study for the past hour with her uncle and two lawyers, finalizing the financial aspects of the marriage—the settlement and the transfer of fifteen thousand pounds from Grover’s bank account to her uncle’s. From what Rebecca understood, the costs involved with the rehabilitation of Roselyn Castle would be charged directly to Grover. There was no doubt that her aunt and uncle had made a coup, though Rebecca was convinced that Grover was equally pleased with his end of the bargain, for there had been no end to the lascivious smiles he’d given her.

Rebecca squirmed on the inside just thinking about it, but on the outside she managed to remain calm as her mind busied itself with her plans of escape.

“And it’s teeming with servants,” Rebecca’s aunt said. Since arriving at the duke’s residency she’d been prattling on about how good His Grace had been to rent a splendid town house for them to live in during their stay in London.

The door opened and Grover stepped into the parlor, followed closely by Rebecca’s uncle. The duke smiled at Rebecca, eyes gleaming with unabashed greed. “Everything has been settled and we can finally focus on the wedding.”

“What splendid news.” Rebecca was pleased with how happy she sounded. She met his gaze. “Perhaps we could have a moment alone together, Your Grace? With everything that’s been happening, we’ve hardly had a chance to talk to each other.”

“Of course, my dear.” His voice was silky as he turned to Rebecca’s aunt and uncle. “If you’ll please excuse us.”

“But we—” Rebecca’s aunt began, suspicion flickering in the gray depths of her eyes as she glared at Rebecca. Clearly she didn’t trust her and was unwilling to accommodate her request.

“The door will remain ajar,” Grover said, cutting her off. He then swept his hand toward the exit. “If you please.”

“Very well,” Rebecca’s aunt conceded as she straightened her back and stood up. “If that is what you wish, I see no reason to object.”

Rebecca waited for them to leave before turning her attention on her fiancé. “Will you come and sit with me?” she asked, patting the empty seat beside her.

Grover beamed. “With great pleasure.” The emphasis he placed on the word
pleasure
would have given anyone with less resolve cause to reconsider, but Rebecca was determined to do what she must, more so now than ever before. Time was running out.

Placing her hand over Grover’s, she turned to him with a pleading gaze. “Your Grace, I understand your eagerness for haste in regards to our marriage, but I was rather hoping that I might convince you to offer me a boon.”

A frown appeared upon his brow, but then he lowered his gaze to the rise and fall of her bosom and all signs of concern were immediately erased. Raising her hand to his lips, he pressed a moist kiss against each knuckle while Rebecca did her best to remain still. She could not allow her distaste for the man to show. “I suppose it is the least I can do for you,” he murmured, “considering what you will be offering me later.”

She shuddered to think of it and sincerely hoped that it would never come to that.

“I was hoping that you would consider hosting an engagement ball, Your Grace.”

Grover leaned back, his frown returning. “I see no need for that, my lady, though you are more than welcome to host as many balls and soirees as you desire once you are duchess.”

“That is most generous of you, but don’t you think it would be wise to quench any suspicions that the
ton
may have regarding our marriage? Would it not be best to assure them that I am marrying you because I wish to and because the union is beneficial to us both?”

“My dear, I may be old, but I am not a fool. We both know that you would likely have preferred a young buck if given a choice.”

“Perhaps,” she conceded, “but I also appreciate the value of experience . . . and to be perfectly honest, money. I believe that Your Grace has both in ample supply.” Lowering her lashes, she delivered a shy smile.

“Unquestionably,” Grover replied. He licked his lips, leaned closer to her and said, “If it weren’t for your aunt and uncle, I’d be happy to give you a little demonstration right now. Even more reason to hasten things along if you ask me.”

Rebecca forced back the urge to leap from her seat and run screaming out of the room. “Your Grace,” she said, her face feeling hot. “You really mustn’t say such things. It’s highly inappropriate.”

Grover chuckled. He ran his leathery index finger along the length of her arm. “What a pleasure it is to see that I can so easily affect you,” he said, mistaking her mortification with something else entirely. “You’re so pretty when you’re all flushed and excited.”

Yuck!

“Well, your words are quite . . . ahem . . . suggestive. However,” she said, determined to move on quickly before he attempted to kiss her or, God forbid, worse, “I do believe that showing a mutual desire to marry will be to our advantage—especially if we are to marry by special license. Once the
ton
sees that we have come to an understanding with each other, they will have no reason to spread rumors.”

“You think that I care if they say that I married a fortune hunter? I’m a duke, for heaven’s sake. They can say what they please.”

This was not going as well as she’d hoped. “I care, Your Grace. I’m young and not nearly as good at dealing with such things. I’m afraid that if you marry me like this and without giving the
ton
a chance to at least see me beforehand, they’ll make the worst assumptions about me. Please try to understand that I am relying on you to help me.” She squeezed his hand a little. “All I want is for us to be happy.”

Grover sighed. “I can see how troubled you are by all of this, so if having a ball to stop the gossips’ tongues from wagging will ease your concerns and allow you to focus your energy on me instead, then I suppose I can accommodate your wish.”

“You are most kind, Your Grace.”

“Don’t thank me yet. You have two days in which to make the necessary arrangements, after which I want to see you in church. Is that understood?”

“Perfectly. I will get to work on the invitations without further delay.”

Grover’s lips drew up to show a set of yellow, uneven teeth. “And I will do my best to keep my longing for you at bay.”

Fearing any further contact with the man, Rebecca slipped out from beneath his heated gaze, stepped toward the door and dropped into a deep curtsy. “You flatter me, Your Grace, and I thank you for it. But if there is to be a ball this Friday, then I have much to attend to.” She offered him her most benign smile and began to heap on the compliments; the benefits of flattery were not to be dismissed. “To be frank, I wasn’t very pleased when my aunt and uncle decided to choose my husband on my behalf, but I have since come to realize that they were wise in doing so. You have shown yourself to be magnanimous, and I have every confidence that you will make a most excellent husband.” Pausing for emphasis, she then added, “It will be an honor to be the mother of your children.”

Later that night, after writing over a hundred invitations that would be mailed out in the morning, Rebecca considered her conversation with Grover. The lies she’d told him didn’t sit well with her, yet she didn’t regret what she was about to do. In spite of what she’d said, Grover was just as selfish and lowly in character as her aunt and uncle. He’d practically bought her, for heaven’s sake, and his disgusting insinuations regarding what he required her for were abhorrent.

Closing her eyes, she thought of Daniel and dearly hoped that he found her note and would still be willing to help. With their last conversation in mind, she believed that he would, for he’d seemed sincere in his promise, and the kiss they’d shared . . . well, that had been quite something. Warming at the memory of it and hopeful that he would come and save her, Rebecca finally drifted off to sleep.

Chapter 11

H
aving asked a footman for a glass of brandy in favor of the champagne that everyone else was drinking, Daniel looked out over the crowd of people who had thronged together at Grover House and decided that he was positively sick of attending balls. Every inhabitant of Mayfair, it seemed, was in attendance, no doubt curious about the woman who would soon become Duchess of Grover.

The footman returned with the brandy, and Daniel took a long sip. Having arrived late, he’d yet to catch a glimpse of Rebecca, who was probably somewhere deep within the crush. If only he’d asked her to run away with him as soon as she’d agreed to do so, they could have been married by now, but he’d wanted to give her time to prepare, certain that there were things she wished to take with her. How was he to know that Grover would make a change of plans? At least Rebecca had left a note, though he’d almost missed it in the darkness, wedged as it had been between the window and its ledge. And then Laura had arrived at the small apartment he rented on Hill Street. Without crossing the threshold, she’d handed him an invitation for this evening, along with yet another note detailing Rebecca’s plan in the hope that he would still be willing to help. Of course he was, not just because he needed a wife but because he’d begun to realize that he was completely mad for this lively woman who’d decided to take her future into her own hands.

“We meet again, Neville.”

There was no need for Daniel to turn his head to recognize that voice. Starkly. “What a coincidence.”

“No such thing,” Starkly said. “I say, is that a brandy?”

Daniel didn’t bother answering that question with words but took another sip.

“I’d kill for one of those instead of all this bubbly stuff that everyone else is so fond of.” Stopping a passing footman, Starkly made his request. He then turned his attention back to Daniel. “So . . . come to wallow in a bit of self-pity, have you?”

“You must be in your cups, Starkly. You’re making no sense.”

“Ha! As if Grover isn’t about to marry
Lady Nuit,
otherwise known as the lovely Lady Rebecca that you were chasing after at the Kingsborough Ball. At least I can find comfort in knowing I wasn’t the only one who lost her to that weathered old toad.”

“As if you ever stood a chance,” Daniel muttered.

“No, I suppose not,” Starkly said, his voice taking on a bitterness that Daniel had never heard from him before. “It’s difficult to compete with any man who’s as rich as Croesus.

“Especially,” Starkly continued, “when he promises to depart this earth at any given moment and leave everything to her.”

“She’s not mercenary, if that’s what you’re implying,” Daniel said, not bothering to glance in Starkly’s direction.

Starkly chuckled. “No, I suppose not.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm. He patted Daniel on the shoulder. “Never mind, though. There are plenty of other ladies present this evening. I’ll see if one of them might be willing to take a walk with me in the garden.”

Once he’d gone, Daniel pulled out his fob watch. Twenty minutes to ten. He still had a bit of time to spare but decided to stay put. The last thing he needed right now was to get stuck in that crowd. Downing the remainder of his drink, he stepped back out into the hallway instead and began heading toward the back of the house.

“Well, well, well,” a smooth voice said. “What a pleasure it is to find you here.”

Stopping in his tracks, Daniel peered into the murky darkness of an alcove to find Lady Vernon seductively reclining on a window seat. She was one of the more notorious widows, known for her sexual appetites, which were so ravenous that even Daniel had found her exhausting at times. There was something predatory about her this evening that quickly put him on edge. He could not afford this sort of distraction right now and certainly didn’t wish for Rebecca to find him in her company.

“Thank you, my lady, but I have a pressing matter to attend to. If you’ll excuse me.”

“Surely it can wait five minutes,” she said, stopping him again with her words. “After all, it’s not as if it will take much longer than that for us to do what I have in mind.”

“In case you are not aware, we are in the Duke of Grover’s home.” He had to get away from her, and the faster the better.

Lady Vernon chuckled. “As if such an inconvenience has stopped either of us before.” Rising, she sauntered toward him, her hips swaying gently beneath the folds of her gown. “May I remind you of the pleasure we once shared behind a Chinese screen at the Thakerry Ball? Or how about at the opera when we—”

“That’s quite enough,” Daniel told her as he glanced around. “Someone might hear you.”

When he looked back at her, he saw that she’d stepped closer. She leaned toward him, so close that their lips almost touched. Daniel tried to step away, but the lady latched onto his arm. “Have you abandoned your rakish tendencies completely then?” she asked. “I confess that I did hear a rumor, but I failed to believe it.” One of her hands came up to caress his cheek.

“Don’t,” he ground out.

“Are you sure I can’t entice you? We used to have such fun together, if you recall.”

Do I ever?

Now was not the time to contemplate his past liaisons. He had to get rid of her before Rebecca found him in her company. “Meet me outside in the garden in half an hour and I’ll show you that I have not forgotten how to please you.”

In a swift move that Daniel had not anticipated, Lady Vernon’s lips met his, hard and demanding. He’d never felt anything but lust for the woman, but even that was no longer the case. Instead, she left him cold and with a feeling of disgust not only for her but for himself as well. There was only one lady who could stir his blood these days, and to his horror, he found her glaring back at him as Lady Vernon sashayed away. “I can explain,” he whispered when Rebecca was close enough to hear.

“Later.” The clipped word was like a bucket of ice water dumped on his head. The last time he’d seen Rebecca, he’d kissed her. It had been magnificent, and now this. He longed to tell her that Lady Vernon meant nothing to him and that
she
had kissed him, not the other way around. But Rebecca was right—they had to hurry if they were to accomplish their goal. An explanation would have to wait until later.

Side by side, they continued toward the servants’ stairs, where they found Laura waiting. “The staff is busy this evening, so as long as you move quickly, I doubt that any of them will raise an eyebrow,” Laura said as she handed Rebecca a brown woolen cloak and then held out a satchel for Daniel to carry. “I’ve packed a few necessities—clothes in particular—along with your watercolors and the other items we discussed. As agreed, I will remain behind in case further distraction will be required. That is of course unless your ladyship has changed her mind and would rather I accompany you.” Laura’s expression was stern. Had she perhaps noticed her mistress’s displeasure with Daniel? He suspected that she must have, and he found himself holding his breath while he waited for Rebecca to answer. She was hesitating, a clear indication that her trust in him had just been diminished. By how much, he dared not even guess.

“No,” Rebecca finally said as she wrapped the cloak around her shoulders and pulled the hood over her head. “We cannot change the plan. It’s far too risky.”

“Very well then.” Laura met Daniel’s gaze with flint in her eyes. “Just promise me that you’ll take good care of her.”

“I’ll guard her with my life,” he told her.

Laura didn’t smile but nodded quickly before hurrying away. Daniel pulled open the stairwell door and ushered Rebecca inside, where they almost collided with a footman who was carrying a tray of canapés up from the kitchen. “Watch where you’re going,” he said, recovering from a near stumble. With his attention riveted upon the tray and its contents, he paid no heed to who the people were who had almost made him fall and just continued past them, muttering an oath. Daniel breathed a sigh of relief.

Below stairs, everything was in upheaval. If Daniel hadn’t known better, he would have suspected that a war was going on, with servants forming troops and carrying out orders issued to them by a very pompous-looking man and a woman who came close to Lady Grifton in austerity. These were undoubtedly the first and second in command, otherwise known as the butler and the housekeeper.

Looking about in search of the exit, Daniel gave Rebecca’s hand a hard tug. The last thing he needed now was to be questioned by either of these two people. But of course, that was too much to ask for, and when he turned back around, he found the butler staring down his nose at him. “I believe you must have gone astray,” he said. “This is the kitchen.”

“I am well aware of that,” Daniel replied with an edge of arrogance to match. “Perhaps you’d care to tell us how to get out of here.”

“May I suggest going back the way you came? The ball is, after all, upstairs.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow. Did the man think him an idiot, or was he just particularly fond of stating the obvious? Time to make his excuses. “Right you are. However, I am hoping to leave here in the company of this lady.” He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned toward the butler. “She has just now agreed to become my mistress, you see, and since her reputation is of the more questionable variety, I thought it best if we tried to leave without causing a stir. However, if you think it would be better for me to drag her through the ballroom instead, then—”

“Down that corridor and to your left,” the butler said, looking slightly flustered.

With no intention of lingering for another second, Daniel pulled Rebecca after him at a brisk pace, arriving quickly in the street behind Grover House, where a groomsman awaited with a phaeton.

“Wouldn’t a landau have been better suited?” Rebecca asked a short while later as they drove past Regent’s Park and out of London.

Daniel whipped the reins, urging the horses into a gallop. “This is faster.” His pride stopped him from admitting that it was also the only carriage he owned. “It’s a Roberts, just so you know.”

“I’m guessing that’s a good thing?”

“It’s a very good thing in this case, since they manufacture the best carriages in England. I’m surprised you don’t know them—they’re based in Moxley.”

“A town that I’ve seen very little of,” she said, reminding him of everything she’d had to endure under the guardianship of her aunt and uncle. If an opportunity for him to right his wrongs had ever presented itself, then this was it.

“No matter. The point is that I’ve raced many opponents in this vehicle without losing once. I’ve every confidence that we’ll make it to Scotland without impediment from either the Griftons or from Grover.”

Their conversation died and Daniel gave his attention to the horses. He could tell that Rebecca was piqued with him, for there was a tenseness about her posture, forcing him to wonder if she might be regretting her decision to run away with him. That notion made it even more important that he clarify the situation she’d witnessed between himself and Lady Vernon, but now was not the time for such a serious discussion, no matter how much he hated the uncomfortable silence that had descended upon them.

It was midnight before Daniel dared to stop for a break, but he’d exhausted the horses by pushing them past the twenty-mile limit and had no choice but to change them. “Do you think they’ll catch up with us?” Rebecca asked as he handed her down from the carriage at one of the many posting inns along the North Road.

“I doubt it.” There was no question as to who
they
referred to. If the duke was in pursuit, the Griftons would be with him. “It would have taken at least ten minutes before your absence became known, and even then the duke would not have been able to leave his guests immediately without causing a stir. The phaeton’s also faster than whatever vehicle he chooses—a landau, I suspect—affording us at least a good half hour’s advantage.”

Rebecca nodded and said no more while a groom exchanged the horses for fresh ones. “Would you like me to add some more oil to your lanterns?” he asked Daniel.

“Please do,” Daniel told him. Pulling out a couple of coins, he paid the man and handed Rebecca back up.

“Do you plan to continue straight through the night?” Rebecca asked an hour later. As annoyed as she was with what Daniel had done, the silence between them bothered her. She wasn’t used to being quiet for such long stretches of time, least of all when she wasn’t alone, but seeing him kiss that woman had brought to life a jealousy that irked her in every conceivable way. She didn’t want to be jealous, because that would mean that she’d started to have deeper feelings for this man—feelings that bordered on the possessive. She had to try and tamp them down, because the last thing she needed was to fall in love with a man who in spite of his promises and good intentions was very much the rake he’d always been. What a fool she’d been. When he’d told her how much he appreciated her for being different, she’d allowed herself to believe that there could be something more between them—that he had begun developing a tendre for her just as she had for him. But the woman he’d been kissing was everything Rebecca was not—blonde, with a pale complexion. She probably had blue eyes as well, though Rebecca had not had a chance to notice.