To Sin With A Scoundrel (8 page)

“Not me. Unfortunately, I’m too old to get into any trouble.” Ariel sighed. “It’s Ciara I’m worried about. You, of all people,
ought to know how the newspapers love to blow a story into lurid proportions.”

“In my case, I’m afraid the
ondits
are not overly exaggerated,” murmured Lucas.

“Well, in her case, they are greatly distorted,” assured Ariel. “Sheffield’s family is planting scurrilous rumors about her
in the press. Having failed to have her indicted for murder at the inquest, they now hope to obtain custody of her young son—and
his considerable inheritance.”

Recalling her wary gaze, he felt a stab of sympathy for Lady Sheffield, one made all the sharper by his own devious strategy.
It seemed he was not the only person who wanted something from the widow.

“Ciara hasn’t a family or a gentleman to protect her from slander. Or prison. We—that is, our Circle—are very concerned for
her. And so, we have embarked on a campaign to find her a protector—oh, dear…” Ariel’s cheeks turned pink. “That did not come
out exactly right. What I meant was a suitor. Someone smart enough to see beneath the shroud of lies and recognize what a
warm and wonderful person Lady Ciara is.”

He could vouch for the warm part.

“Someone with enough stature and connections in Society to counter their malicious machinations. Someone with…” Ariel stood
on tiptoes and lowered her voice. “Someone with the bollocks to stand up to their bullying.”

“That’s a rather lengthy list of qualifications. It narrows the field considerably.”

“I’m afraid so.” Her chin came up. “It’s a difficult challenge, but not an impossible one. It is amazing what levers can be
moved if you put your brain in gear.”

“You sound very much like my uncle.” As he spoke, Lucas heard a little whisper echo inside his own head—it was the voice of
Reason, warning him to walk away. But as usual, a more primal force kept him rooted in place.

“A very intelligent man, to judge by his writings,” mused Ariel.

“Yes, he is.”

Ariel regarded him thoughtfully before clearing her throat. “The way I see it, each of us has a complicated problem…” She
took a moment to polish her spectacles on her sleeve. “But you know, sir, our little group of scholars prides itself on solving
complex conundrums.”

Lucas smiled. “I’m not a scholar, but it seems to me that there is a simple solution.”

“Hardly simple, Lord Hadley,” murmured Ariel. “However, it might just work.” She sipped her champagne. “In any case, it is
worth pursuing.”

Recalling Ciara’s sensuous body and lush mouth, Lucas offered her his arm. “Yes, definitely worth pursuing. Come, let us take
a comfortable seat by the fire and put our heads together…”

A
re you
mad?
” Ciara nearly choked on a bite of biscuit.

“Actually, I think Ariel’s actions were eminently reasonable,” said Charlotte. Encouraged by her sister’s vigorous nod, she
went on. “We all agreed that finding you a husband made a great deal of sense.”

“We also agreed that Lord Hadley was the last man on earth I would consider for the opening,” countered Ciara.

“From what I have heard, the gentleman would fill the void rather nicely,” murmured Kate.

“Katharine!”
chorused the elderly sisters in unison. However, their shock quickly dissolved into unladylike chortles.

“He is a very virile specimen, especially up close,” observed Ariel. “And quite amusing.”

“Then
you
marry him,” muttered Ciara.

“Now, my dear, no one is suggesting that you actually go through with the ceremony,” said Charlotte. “You heard Ariel—Hadley
has agreed to announce an engagement, and go through the motions of squiring you through the rest of the Season. During that
time, he will use his influence to pressure Sheffield’s family into stopping their slanderous talk. And once you are introduced
into Society, and forge friendships of your own, your late husband’s relatives will find it nigh on impossible to renew their
attacks.” She paused a fraction. “It is also agreed that at the end of that interlude, you are perfectly free to cry off.”

“A lady may do so with no harm to her own reputation,” pointed out Ariel.

“But doesn’t it reflect badly on a gentleman?” asked Kate, who was still struggling to understand all the complex rules of
Polite Society.

“Oh, pish!” Ariel waved off the question. “Hadley doesn’t give a fig about that. He says one scandal more won’t do his name
any harm. Indeed, he assured me that half the fun of this arrangement would be thinking of some truly outrageous exploit to
give you a reason to break off the engagement. And he was quick to point out that such a strategy would only generate more
sympathy for you among the
ton
.” She paused for a dainty nibble of her strawberry tart. “You know, I am aware of his reputation as a mindless rake, but
I am beginning to believe that he is far more clever than most people think.”

“Speak for yourself,” snapped Ciara, unwillingly recalling the sensuous slide of the earl’s mouth over her flesh. She put
down her teacup, hoping to hide the tremor of her hand. “Let me get this straight. One of London’s most celebrated wastrels
is willing to play the noble knight—at considerable sacrifice to his own pleasures. And all I have to do in return is translate
his uncle’s manuscript?”

Ariel nodded.

“I don’t believe it,” said Ciara darkly.

“Frankly, I don’t really see the harm of Hadley’s proposal, my dear,” mused Charlotte. “After all, you will likely enjoy the
task of studying the ancient text, especially if it is a long-lost work of medicine.”

“There
must
be an ulterior motive. Lord Hadley did not strike me as altruistic by nature.” Recalling her shameful response to his kisses,
Ciara bit her lip. The earl, with his undeniable aura of animal magnetism, was… dangerous.

But given the alternative, what choice did she really have?

Yet another headline in the morning newspaper had stirred dire forebodings. It could only have been planted by her late husband’s
family. Even more alarming was the missive she had received from her man of affairs earlier in the day. Sheffield’s relatives—led
by his sister, Lady Battersham—seemed intent on stirring up new trouble with the estate. Ciara had no doubt that having failed
to have her arrested, they were now redoubling their efforts to get custody of her son and his inheritance.

Her hands went suddenly cold. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Peregrine. She would do anything—
anything
—to keep him safe.

“Perhaps you are judging Lord Hadley too harshly,” said Ariel softly. “His affection for his uncle seemed genuine.”

“Despite his rakish reputation, he’s titled and rich. And that, in the end, is what influences Society—rank and money,” pointed
out Charlotte. She was no longer smiling. “Hadley has both and will use them to your advantage.”

“My dear,” murmured Ariel after an uncomfortable silence. “It is an unfortunate truth that the wheels of justice do not always
roll in a straight path. A word here, a favor there—there are many little things that can alter its course.”

Charlotte was quick to add her assent. “Believe me, I have seen enough of the world to know. Sheffield’s family will use every
rotten little trick they can to harm you. Much as you might wish not to stoop to their level, you, too, must fight dirty to
defend yourself. As a lone female, you are already at a disadvantage.”

Ciara knew in her heart that they were right. Still, she felt her cheeks flush. “I cannot believe you all are encouraging
me to do this.”

“As scientists, we must look at a problem objectively and apply logic to seeking the solution,” said Ariel. “Even if the answer
conflicts with our own personal feelings or assumptions.”

“That’s all very well in theory. But in practice…” Ciara let her voice trail off, knowing she was running out of arguments.

“So, what do you say?” demanded Kate.

Dangerous
. Once again, the word leapt to mind.

But she would risk anything, even a date with the Devil, to keep her son safe from the clutches of her late husband’s family.

“Very well, I’ll do it,” she muttered. “You’ve all been very persuasive. Let us hope this little experiment does not blow
up in my face.”

“It has all the ingredients for a very entertaining Season.” Kate’s grin suddenly faded. “Oh, hell. We are going to miss all
the fun!”

Charlotte looked crestfallen, as well. “Good heavens, I had forgotten all about our trip! What a pity that we agreed to attend
the symposium in St. Andrews.”

Ciara recalled with a start that Charlotte and Kate were scheduled to leave for Scotland the day after the morrow. “Traitors!”
she exclaimed. “You convince me to take a leap of faith and then are leaving me in the lurch?”

Charlotte looked a little guilty. “You have Ariel for moral support. And Alessandra, who is far more comfortable in Society
than we are.”

“Right,” chimed in Kate. “You’ll do just fine without us.”

She glowered at her friends. “I wish I was as certain about that as you are.”

Lucas paused for a moment in the doorway, watching as his uncle turned the page of his laboratory journal and continued transcribing
his notes. Perhaps it was merely a quirk of light, but his guardian looked a little frail and faded against the mullioned
windows.

The scratch of the pen covered his approach. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that Henry looked up.

“Lucas! How nice to see you, my boy.” He gestured to the sideboard. “Pour yourself a brandy and have a seat by the fire. That
is, if you are not pressed for time.”

Lucas took up two glasses. “Will you join me?”

“Perhaps a spot of sherry. The doctors want me to swear off spirits altogether. But life is deucedly boring without an occasional
indulgence.”

“That I wouldn’t know,” said Lucas dryly.

The remark elicited a chuckle. “There is something to be said for moderation.”

“Yes—to hell with it.” As Lucas had hoped, his uncle laughed louder. He handed over the sherry and clinked glasses.

“Have we something to celebrate?”

He could tell that Henry was trying to keep the note of anticipation from his voice. Which only made Lucas feel more determined
not to disappoint him.

“Not yet,” he replied. “But I have reason to believe we may be coming close.” Shifting a stack of botany books, he perched
a hip on the corner of the desk. “Lady Sheffield is like one of your wild English roses—tough, twisting vines and prickly
thorns discourage any contact.”

“A lady who keeps you at arm’s length?” Henry waggled a brow. “That probably hasn’t happened since you were a skinny schoolboy
with spots on your face.”

Lucas shifted uncomfortably. Had he been such a skirt-chasing hellion even then? The answer was oddly depressing. Perhaps
the specter of old age—his thirtieth birthday was not far off—was weighing more heavily on him than he realized.

“With all due modesty, I don’t think it’s just me she doesn’t like. The widow seems to be wary of men in general.”

“With good reason,” mused his uncle. “From what I have heard, Sheffield was a drunkard and a violent brute.”

His own inquiries had left Lucas with the same impression. The lady’s parents, a wealthy baronet and his ambitious wife, had
been willing to barter a handsome dowry for a lofty title. Leaving their daughter to pay the real price.

“Is she pretty?” asked Henry.

“Very,” he replied slowly.

Henry’s mouth curled in a wistful smile of longing. “Brains and beauty. A rare combination indeed.”

Lucas was suddenly struck by an unsettling realization. In all the years that he had lived with his uncle, he had never asked
him why he had never married.

Moving back to the sideboard, he refilled his glass. “Were you never tempted to take a wife?”

“Ah, work is a hard enough mistress.” His uncle laughed, but the sound was strangely hollow.

Lucas looked away, the brandy burning the back of his throat. What a selfish sot he had been for never being curious about
his guardian’s life. Henry had always been there to listen, to share every little triumph and disaster. He had never thought
to return the favor.

Youth was naturally self-centered, supposed Lucas. But platitudes didn’t dull the edge of his regret. “No doubt science is
satisfying—up to a point,” he said softly. “But surely you looked up from your books once in a while.”

Henry didn’t answer for some moments. “There was a young lady once. A long time ago.” He stared down at his sherry. “We met
at a lecture… the professor from Oxford was a prosy bore, and as I sat squirming in my chair I caught her eye, and we both
made a face. Afterward, I took her to Guenter’s, where we discovered that we shared a taste for strawberry ices and botany.”

“Did you not pursue the relationship?” asked Lucas softly.

“With a passion.” Henry crooked a tiny smile. “Though you probably can’t imagine me interested in aught but ink and vellum.”
He sighed. “Her name was Elizabeth. Elizabeth Sprague. Her father taught philosophy at Merton College.”