A Scandalous Charade (Scandalous Series, BOOK 2), page 21
He started down one of the paths, toward a bench he and Caroline had used from time to time to hide from their governess as children. Today there was someone sitting on the bench, and for a split second he thought it was Juliet. But as he crept closer, his heart stopped for an entirely different reason.
With her pretty face pointed to the sky and her strawberry blond hair shimmering radiantly in the sunlight was the one woman Luke tried not to ever think about—Lydia.
His sister-in-law, the Countess of Masten.
She’d been only sixteen when he’d seduced her at a country house party hosted by Caroline’s late in-laws. Luke cringed at the memory. At the time, she’d captivated him by her beauty and perceived innocence. But Lydia was far from the innocent she had appeared, and he had immediately regretted the entire experience. Then the worst had happened. The late Lord Staveley had stumbled upon them in a most compromising situation, but there wasn’t anything anyone could have said or done that would have made him marry the little tart.
It wasn’t until later that he realized that his morally upstanding brother had married the girl in his place. Most of the time, Luke tried not to think about that, as it was one of the few things in life he ever felt guilty over. Though he and Robert couldn’t be more different, his brother did deserve better than Lydia.
For years, Robert had kept Lydia isolated at his estate in Cheshire. Image meant more than anything to Robert, and he wasn’t about to have his scandalous wife running about London. For once Luke had been pleased that Robert was wholly rigid and unforgiving, in that he never had to worry about facing Lydia again.
But here she sat at Gosling Park.
Unfortunately, Lydia was even lovelier than she had been at sixteen. He sighed and folded his arms across his chest, watching the young siren bask in the sun. He was confused completely by her appearance in Dorset.
“Watch yourself,” he finally drawled smoothly. “You don’t want to get freckles. Most unbecoming of a countess.”
Lydia opened her eyes and spun around. She stared at him in a disbelief that echoed his own. The girl was still gorgeous and he could easily remember his naïve desire to have her. She must have sensed his thoughts, because her face suddenly flushed red and she took a deep intake of air.
Luke laughed with an easy charm. “It’s been a long time, Lydia.”
“Mr. Beckford!” she finally managed to choke out. “What the devil are you doing here?”
He could ask her that same question. There was no doubt from the look in her eyes that she was just as unhappy to see him as he was to see her. Luke raised his brow. “What a warm reception from my dear sister-in-law.” Then he patted his coat pocket. “King Robert has summoned me, and like the good subject I am, I’ve answered his call.”
A look of confusion crossed Lydia’s face and she just sat there gaping at him. With a grin Luke offered her his arm, which she regarded with the warmth of an approaching asp. Again, Luke laughed. “I promise not to bite, Lydia—unless, of course, you ask me to.”
She refused his arm and scowled at him. “At the risk of being rude, Mr. Beckford, I think I’ll remain here. Following you got me into a spot of trouble last time. Besides, I don’t think my husband would approve.”
He was surprised that Lydia cared at all about what Robert thought. Curiosity was now killing him, so Luke sank down onto the bench beside her and smiled. “Oh, Robert never approves of anything, love. So, tell me however did you break out of Blackstone? Chisel and hammer? Or something more dastardly? Really, I’m dying to find out.”
Abruptly, she stood up and backed away from him. “Forgive me, but I have things to attend to. Good day, Mr. Beckford.”
Quickly, she started down the garden path toward the manor house, but Luke was not about to be dismissed so easily and he quickly snared her waist in his hands. “Not so fast, Lady Masten.”
Lydia turned in his arms and looked up at him in what he was sure was feigned surprise. “Unhand me this instant, you cad!”
After five years, Luke had nearly forgotten what a good little actress she was—pretending to be pure and innocent, when she was anything but. How big a fool did she think he still was? With a smirk on his face, he released her. “We’re not yet finished, Lydia—you and I.”
She glared at him. Bright blue eyes had turned a stormy gray. “We were finished when you abandoned me to your brother’s wrath.”
He was not going to accept that blame. He hadn’t made Robert propose. In fact, now that he thought about it, Robert may have been her target all along. Robert was the Earl of Masten, after all. Robert was as rich as Croesus. Robert could make her a countess. But Robert wasn’t one to dally with little tarts posing as innocent misses. No, that had been Luke. He raised an eyebrow and met her scathing gaze. “That hasn’t been such a bad deal, has it? I mean the fool did marry you. You’re now the Countess of Masten, not a position you could’ve aspired to without my help.”
“That kind of help I can do without, thank you,” she nearly spat at him.
An actress to the last, was she? Lydia really could give the chits in Drury Lane a run for their money. “So spirited, Lydia.” Luke stepped back to take in her form. “And you’ve filled out so nicely in all the right places.”
With pursed lips, she turned her back on him and stormed furiously back toward the house.
What game was she playing now? Why would Robert have her here? To keep an eye on her, probably. Had she gotten into even more trouble in Cheshire? He’d have to find out. But he wasn’t about to let her treat him with such disregard, so he called after her, “You should be nice to me, unless you want Robert to learn all your dirty little secrets.”
She didn’t even slow her gait as she sped toward the castle.
After a few moments alone in his mother’s garden, Luke strolled down the path that led to Gosling’s massive entrance. He didn’t even have to knock. Dunsley, the old family butler, greeted him with his usual dour expression and a curt nod. “Mr. Beckford.”
Well, he didn’t care if the man liked him or not. He wasn’t here to make friends—he was here to find Juliet and convince her to take him back. Luke handed his beaver hat to the old man. “Dunsley, please inform his lordship’s guest that I would like a word with her.”
The old man blinked at him. “Guest, sir?”
“Yes, guest. Lady Juliet St. Claire.”
With a bewildered look, Dunsley shook his head, “‘Tis only Lord and Lady Masten in residence. The earl has gone out to tenant cottages today and the countess has just retired to her rooms.”
Luke frowned at the old man. He was certain that Caroline meant for him to come here. That Juliet was here. Don’t be dense. Go. To. Gosling. Park. Was it possible that no one knew she was here? That seemed absurd, but he was here. And she had to be.
In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have been such a bastard when he’d stumbled upon Lydia and just asked her. But seeing her had surprised him to no end. However, he didn’t really need any help. He grew up here. He knew Gosling better than anyone. And he’d find her.
***
But he hadn’t found her.
He’d looked everywhere. Both towers. The dower house. The abandoned rectory. She wasn’t here, and now it was late in the day. Perhaps she was in Lulworth, or one of the tenant cottages—though truthfully he couldn’t see here there. But Caroline did send him here. There must be something he was missing. He’d have to wait and talk to Robert, whenever he returned.
Exhausted, Luke finally retired to the green salon that overlooked the garden. Even in the waning light, it still looked like it had when his mother ruled over the place, and it was so comforting to feel her presence. He needed that feeling—he just hadn’t realized it until now.
He poured himself some of whiskey from the sideboard and helped himself to one of Robert’s horse breeding periodicals—not that he was interested in such things, but there weren’t any other choices for reading material. His brother was notoriously boring.
Luke stretched out across the green and gold brocade settee and read an article about Romeo, one of the latest Ascot winners. Which of course brought his mind back to Juliet.
Suddenly, the door to the salon slammed shut. The jarring sound caused Luke to nearly jump out of his skin, sloshing some of the whiskey from his glass onto his embroidered waistcoat. He looked up in surprise to see his brother Robert, the intimidating Earl of Masten, standing before him. “Damn it, Robert. There’s no need to come blazing in here like a pack of elephants.”
“Herd,” Robert remarked with a growl.
“Heard what?”
“No, a herd. Wolves travel in packs, elephants in herds.”
Luke rolled his eyes and rested his head against the back of the settee. His brother was always so tedious. “Blister it, Robert. You know what I meant.”
Robert simply glared back at him. It was the first time Luke realized how much like their father Robert truly looked. He was tall, with golden brown hair, and angry brown eyes. Brown eyes—he could go forever without thinking about brown eyes.
“What are you doing here, Luke?” Robert demanded.
This wasn’t the time to ask about Juliet. With the way his brother was looking at him, Luke could tell he was close to being tossed out on his ear. And he couldn’t let that happen. Not yet. So, with an exasperated sigh, Luke retrieved a letter from his pocket and hurled it toward his brother who was now pacing determinedly. “Answering your summons, brother.”
Robert snatched up the letter, but didn’t bother to look down at it. “I didn’t summon you here. I told you to take care of that business with the Ridgemont pendant.”
Luke threw his head back and laughed. “Yes, thank you for your faith in me, as always.” Then he stood and dropped his glass, and the remaining amount of whiskey left in it, on the mahogany table in front of him. “I didn’t know that you’d reconciled with Lydia. Hell, Rob, I didn’t know you were on speaking terms with your fair wife.”
Robert stopped mid-pace to refocus his glare on Luke. “My relationship with my wife is none of your concern, Lucas.”
Luke shrugged, retrieved his whiskey, and motioned with a mock toast toward his brother. “Really, Rob, Lydia was much warmer with her welcome to me earlier, you know.” Not much, but some.
But that was apparently the exact wrong thing to say, because before Luke knew what had even happened, Robert had him in a choke hold. “Stay away from my wife!” he hissed. “Do you hear me, you lecherous bastard?”
Somehow Luke was able to pry his brother’s fingers from around his throat then doubled over while he gasped for breath. “Blast you, Robert!” He heaved heavily and slowly took in air. “What the devil has gotten into you?” Truly, he’d never known his brother to be physically violent.
Robert was now breathing heavily, “All I asked was that you give back the bloody pendant, Lucas. I didn’t request that you pay me a visit.”
Luke had had enough. No, he wasn’t the upstanding prig that Robert was. He was flawed with many faults, but he wasn’t a thief. And it made his blood boil that his brother thought he was. “For God’s sake, I don’t have any damned sapphire pendant.”
“Emerald,” Robert growled in response.
“Oh, well—” Luke threw his arms up in the air sardonically— “that makes all the difference, doesn’t it? Since I go around lifting all the emerald pendants I can get my hands on.” It was a good thing Robert didn’t know about the two sapphire hair pins that were currently in Luke’s coat pocket, or he’d never believe that.
The two of them stood there, just sizing the other one up. Then finally Robert sank into a sage and cream colored chintz chair and shook his head. “So, then tell me this—why would Lady Ridgemont accuse you, Luke?”
Revenge. Power. To simply be a bitch. Instead he shrugged his answer, and settled for the unemotional truth. “Louisa is put out that I’ve broken things off with her.” Then he fell back on the settee and rested his elbows on his knees. “She’s got some Bow Street blighter dogging my every step and now she’s got you beckoning me all the way to Dorset.”
“I did not beckon you to Dorset.”
True, but he couldn’t let his brother make him leave. With a sheepish grin, Luke stared across the room at Robert. “Perhaps not, but do you mind if I stay for a while? I’m trying to keep as far away from Louisa as possible at the moment.”
Robert heaved a sigh and glared at Luke. “You know, none of this would be necessary if you could just keep that prick of yours where it belongs.”
That was an understatement, and Luke threw back his head and laughed. “Leave it to you, Robert, to cut to the chase. But what do you say, old man? I need a place to stay for a while.”
“You’re not a young blade anymore, Luke. It’s way past time you settled down. Go back to London, end things with Lady Ridgemont, and grow the devil up.”
“Spoken like the older brother I know and love. But please, Rob, just a few days.”
“Why don’t you hide out at Staveley’s?”
With a roguish grin, Luke shrugged. “Actually, Caroline is put out with me at the moment.”
Robert frowned as if the decision pained him. Then he finally nodded. “Fine. But just a few days. And I want you to stay far away from Lydia.”
“I wouldn’t dream of bothering her.” Truly, he wouldn’t.
“See that you don’t or you’ll answer to me. And in the meantime, I expect you to send at note to Mr. Cooper, the Bow Street blighter you mentioned earlier. I won’t harbor a fugitive.”
“You’re the best, Robert. I always say so.”
With a shake of his head, Robert strode purposefully from the room, leaving Luke to stare after him. Something odd was going on here.
***
Luke had known Robert all his life. He had watched his older brother perform his duties without complaint and live up to the standards society expected of him. And over the years Luke had come to believe certain things about Robert. One was that his upstanding brother always did the right thing. And another was that watching a patch of grass grow was more exciting than boring old Robert. From the earliest of ages Luke had decided to not follow in his older brother’s high moral footsteps—life was to be enjoyed, not endured.
However, tonight as he sat in the dining hall at Gosling Park, Luke discovered something else about his brother, something he’d never realized before—Robert was a giant fool. How was it that he’d known his brother for more than thirty years and he was just now seeing that Robert was such a dim-witted dolt?
It was nauseating to watch his brother continually cast Lydia mooncalf gazes across the table. And it was equally disturbing to listen to the earl and countess laugh together like a pair of giddy, smitten fools. What the devil was going on here?
Luke narrowed his eyes on his sister-in-law. It was obvious that she was the answer to all of his questions. Somehow this deceitful, little witch had cast some sort of spell on Robert. That was the only explanation that made any sense—because the man sitting at the head of this table was a complete stranger to Luke. Though he looked like Robert, there was no way that man was his brother. Not by a long shot.
Twenty-One
Fancy meeting you here
She had been traveling for days in a coach with Peter and Penny Harris, Jonathan Kistler, and Mrs. Norris, and Juliet was anxious to make it to Gosling Park. After they’d left the coaching inn the day before, they’d been followed for quite a while by a couple of rough looking men on horseback. The children had been certain the fellows were highway men, but Juliet felt in the pit of her stomach they were looking for her. Though in the end, the men turned back and nothing else of interest had occurred on the journey, other than they had to make numerous stops due to poor Peter’s weak stomach. However, she didn’t think she could rest easily until they safely arrived at their destination.
Mrs. Norris had continued to offer the children wrapped lemon candies, which they were thrilled to get. The old nurse wasn’t terribly bright, in Juliet’s opinion, but she was rather sweet. Kistler, on the other hand, was grating on many levels. The irritable valet complained nearly non-stop and looked down his nose at everyone. Juliet had to force herself from putting the man in his place, but a quiet governess would never do such a thing, and keeping her identity a secret was of the utmost importance. She wouldn’t risk Edmund’s future for anything.
Finally, they entered through the large retaining wall and Juliet released an anxious breath. They were almost there. Thank Heavens! Moments later, the coach came to an abrupt stop and everyone piled out. Juliet was left nearly speechless as she stared at a castle that seemed to reach to the sky.
“Gor!” Peter whispered in awe at her side.
“Do ye think we’re gonna live ‘ere?” Penny responded.
Juliet cleared her throat and tapped Penny on the shoulder.
The girl looked a bit chagrined and tried her sentence again. “Do ye think we’re gonna live here?”
Since only Kistler had ever stepped foot in Gosling Park, all eyes turned to him. With an elitist look down his nose at the group, the valet marched around the corner and into a small door at the base of the castle with everyone else on his heels. Immediately, they were assaulted by the most scrumptious smells. Biscuits. Ham. And some sort of tart, perhaps cherry? They were in the kitchens—two massive rooms with a cook and two scullery maids already preparing dinner.
Juliet had never been in a kitchen before, but if they all smelled this delightful, she’d make it a habit to visit more often. No one had eaten particularly well on the road, and the scents from this room made even Kistler’s prissy stomach grumble. But before anyone could snatch even the tiniest of morsels, an elderly man dressed in livery stood at the main door. He had silver hair and kindly blue eyes that twinkled as he smiled at the children. “Master Peter and Miss Penelope, I presume.”
