Simply Scandalous Page 16

  "Your ladyship was not always so adverse to rubbing shoulders with the Wayborns," said Alex a little sharply. "Mr. Cary Wayborn's attentions had grown very marked in these last few weeks, and I had often seen you riding with Miss Wayborn in the Park."

  "My dear Mr. Devize," murmured the lady, her dark lashes sweeping her cheek. "I did not see you there. Yes, I am a little acquainted with the Wayborns, but, you know, that was before ..." Her beautiful violet eyes glinted. "But where is your dear Mamma, Mr. Devize? Where is Lady Cheviot? I long to see your charming sister."

  "They did not trouble to come," said Maria, linking her arm with Serena's. "Most of the ladies and half the gentlemen have stayed away tonight. I consider it very insolent, their taking the Wayborns' part against the Aucklands'!"

  "Oh, my dear Lady Maria," cried Serena. "I could not-I would not abandon you in your darkest hour. It is most unfair! What your poor brother must be feeling! "

  "Most unfair," Lord Redfylde echoed.

  "I am sure it is all a dreadful mistake," Serena went on blithely. "There is no possible way that Lord Swale would employ such hole-and-corner tactics."

  "You're very kind," murmured Lady Maria.

  Alex's eyes narrowed. Like many gentlemen of rank and fortune, he had enjoyed a brief flirtation with Lady Serena, and he had never quite forgiven her for ending the affair before he was ready. 'Was it not your cousin Stacy Calverstock who accused Lord Swale?"

  Lord Redfylde made a choking sound. "Calverstock is an ass!"

  Serena lightly touched his arm. "My poor cousin!" she murmured. "He is bewitched by Miss Wayborn, I think. He'll do anything to please her. He says even now that he will not give her up. I fear he will do something quite foolish."

  Lord Redfylde patted her hand reassuringly. "He will give her up indeed, my dear. I will see to that. There is no possible way I will allow him to connect my family to such an immodest young lady."

  Alex was shocked. "Lady Serena does not mean to suggest that Mr. Calverstock accused Lord Swale merely to please Miss Wayborn?"

  "No, indeed," Serena replied. "Eustace and Mr. Cary Wayborn have been friends since boyhood. He feels it is his duty to support his friend and his friend's sister."

  "If the gentlemen both say Mr. Wayborn's attackers mentioned Lord Swale by name," said Alex, "I think we must take them at their

  "Why," demanded Maria, "when it is so obviously a lie?"

  "Let us say they did mention his name," said Lord Redfylde irritably. "What does it signify? They are villains. They will say anything. Lord Swale is a Peer of the Realm, like myself. Surely, that places him above reproach."

  "Precisely," said Maria. "It is absurd that my brother should be condemned by a few words from the uncivilized curs who attacked Mr. Wayborn. If indeed he was attacked."

  Serena scanned the ballroom restlessly. "Indeed," she said. "Anyone who knows my Lord Swale would never credit it for a moment. Why should he wish Mr. Wayborn any harm?"

  "I believe the inference is that Lord Swale wanted to win his race by default," said Redfylde.

  "Where is the sport in that?" scoffed Maria. "There is no possible way my brother would deny himself the pleasure of defeating Mr. Wayborn's chestnuts."

  "A great deal of money is hazarded on these events," Alex said, watching Lord Redfylde closely. "Someone else may have wanted to deny your brother that pleasure, Lady Maria."

  Redfylde stiffened perceptibly. "What do you mean by that remark, sir?"

  "I believe it is more than a coincidence that Mr. Wayborn was attacked on the eve of the race," Alex replied. "I believe the attack was carefully planned to prevent him from ever reaching the Black Lantern on the morning of the race."

  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 safel
y 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 mea
n, 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."

  "It was all perfectly innocent."

  "All the more reason the girl deserves the protection of your name," Alex said inexorably. "If she were guilty, no one would blame you for deserting her. But an innocent girl-!"

  "Well, I didn't kick," said Swale grumpily. "The minute I saw Captain Cary's face, I knew I was caught. It's not as though I could rely on my father to extricate me. He's potty about this girl's nose. He'd have taken her part against me and made her family a generous settlement, I don't doubt."

  "And it would serve you right, old man. One simply doesn't go about the place kissing girls like Juliet Wayborn! " Alex scolded him. "We live in liberal times, but the Wayborns are Old County, I'm afraid, like the Devizes. We don't put up with you lecherous Hanoverian aristocrats trifling with our women. You should be more careful, Geoffrey. You're fortunate that Sir Benedict let the foolish girl have her own way. I wouldn't have done it myself, had I been in his place."

  "Oh, Sir Benedict despises me," said Swale. "He was pleased to let her have her way. He don't want to be connected to me in anyway, shape, or form."

  "Whatever possessed you to kiss her-and at the local inn, of all places?"

  "I had to kiss her," Swale explained. "The sound of her voice was annoying me. I couldn't very well punch her in the nose, could I? Especially not that noseit's bloody perfect. Anyway, it was only a kiss."