Simply Scandalous Page 6

  "It is popularly believed," said the Duke dryly, "that you hired two men to break his arm."

  "I don't believe his arm is broken at all. I heard the man was put to bed suffering from nothing more than a touch of influenza. That is precisely what I said in my note."

  The Duke's frown was very stern. "What note?"

  "The note I sent 'round with the monkey that the bloody female threw at me."

  "You damned fool! " said his father, and a bit of nettlerash peeped through the powder and paint so carefully applied by his valet.

  "You don't expect me to keep his beastly money," said Swale, shocked. "By strict rules, I was the winner, but, really, after all ... I sent a note to Wayborn, wishing him a swift recovery from the influenza. Naturally, as soon as he is recovered, I intend to shoot him. I daresay he thought it a pretty fine joke, sneaking his sister past me, but I don't go in for that shabby sort of thing."

  "I have had speech of Mr. Norton, the surgeon," said the Duke in an icy voice, "and I am satisfied that Mr. Wayborn's arm is broken. There is also a head injury."

  "And I expect you believe that I hired the ruffians who injured him too," Swale said bitterly. "My own father! Why the devil would I do such a thing? I was looking forward to racing Cary Wayborn. I had as good a chance as any man in England of beating him."

  "You! " scoffed his parent. "You couldn't beat Cary Wayborn's baby sister, and you expect me to believe you entertained hopes of triumphing over the man himself?"

  "That's hard," Swale observed belligerently. "And anyway, the Wayborn doxy bloody well cheated. She bloody well came to a full stop in the middle of the bloody road. To keep from ramming her, I had to swerve around. Bloody devious! I ought to have known then I was racing a damned, interfering bloody female!"

  "Do you swear to me that you had nothing to do with the attack on Mr. Wayborn?"

  Swale was incensed. "Do I swear?"

  "Yes, sir," said his father. "Do you swear?"

  "You are asking me," said Swale. He paused to gain control of his temper. "Let me be clear, sir. You are asking your only son to swear to his innocence?"

  "That is what 'l am asking," the Duke said coldly.

  'Well, I do not swear," said Swale defiantly. "Believe what you will, sir, and be damned."

  "Very well," said the Duke, much relieved. "I believe you."

  "I should bloody well hope so," growled his son. "My own father asking me to swear like a common criminal. I like that! That pleases me like nothing else. I should rather be the son of a costermonger than of a father who entertains such doubts about me."

  The Duke held up his slim hand. "I never doubted you for a moment, Geoffrey. I am merely trying to prepare you for the harsh reality of life. From now on, everywhere you go, you will be questioned. Your ferocious temper is well-known. On the whole, I think it would be best if you were to leave London for a while."

  "Why should I leave London?" Swale growled. "Let the Wayborns leave. They have cast aspersions against me. By that I mean they have told bold-faced lies!"

  "But why would they lie?" asked his Grace.

  Swale exploded. "You said you believed me!"

  "Mr. Calverstock apparently heard the villains say `Compliments of Lord Swale' or some such thing. I don't think Mr. Calverstock is lying. His grandfather was the Fourth Earl of Ludham! "

  "`Compliments of Lord Swale!' As though I would!"

  "Your name must be cleared, Geoffrey. It is the Ambler name, after all. Someone has attacked Mr. Wayborn and has taken a deal of trouble to implicate us in this dishonorable business."

  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?"

  "She has two brothers," Alex responded, "a
nd between them, they now have two good arms. Sir Benedict's right arm was cut off, poor man."

  "Sir Benedict," Swale repeated, trying to place the name. 'What was he knighted for?"

  "Why, nothing," said Alex, amused. "He's a baronet. The Wayborns are Old County."

  "How is it you know so much about them?" Swale asked suspiciously. "Mr. Cary Wayborn and his chestnuts are famous, of course, but I never heard of any Sir Benedict."

  "My sister," Alex said apologetically. "Lady Cheviot thinks I should marry sooner rather than later. It will amuse you to know she had fastened her eye on Miss Wayborn this Season."

  Swale barked with laughter. 'What is it about this wretched female that so attracts a man's relatives yet so repels the man himself?"

  "I did not say she repelled me," Alex said reproachfully. "As a gentleman, I should refrain from crit icizing a lady, but, if anything, I thought her rather too mild for my taste."

  Swale stared at him. "Mild!" he said incredulously. "That hell-born termagant!"

  "She seemed to me a quiet young lady with a wellordered mind," Alex said, laughing. "Very grave and dignified. Bookish. I thought her well-suited to marry a bishop."

  Swale glared at him. "That damned race has made me the laughingstock of all London, and her cursed accusations have made me ... anathema!"

  "My dear Geoffrey," said Alex, "you do realize that the foolish girl has damaged herself more than she could ever damage you? Your troubles will soon pass. Hers never will."

  "That is her own doing," Swale said stubbornly.

  "Come, come!" said Alex, losing patience. "Not only would such a marriage exonerate you in the matter of her brother's injuries, but it would place the very female that humiliated you in your power. You could revenge yourself upon her quite freely, I imagine."

  "Revenge myself on her!" Swale cried, startled by the idea. "Beat her, I suppose!" he said, scowling. "That is what you think of me."

  "I beg your pardon," said Alex contritely. "If you will but check your temper, you'll see that there's a great deal of sense in what your father says."