A Scandalous Connection, page 22
“Marry your duke. There is no reason, I assure you, not to.” Was Thomas’s tone harder than usual? Difficult to tell, when he had stopped looking at her and was throwing on his hopeless cravat. It was crumpled, but he managed to achieve miracles with it in seconds. He looked debonair and aloof.
“None?” Raquel sounded hopelessly forlorn.
“None that must concern you.” Again, the abrasive tone. Raquel, restored to her status and rank as lady, felt ludicrously like weeping.
“I spent the night with you unchaperoned.”
“Easily remedied. You spent the night as Lady Caroline’s guest. I returned to London yesterday. My staff shall testify to that, though there is no reason for anyone to ever doubt it.”
The room suddenly seemed dark and cold to Raquel. She climbed off the bed and wandered close to the window. Close to the motionless Mr. Endicott. Their arms almost touched. When she looked out, she realized it was not dark. The snow was bright with sunshine. She caught a glimpse of someone walking toward the cottage. Fleetingly, she noticed the approaching woman was beautiful. And well-dressed, with heavenly little pearls at her hems. Lady Caroline Darris? Perhaps. Time was running out. Raquel shivered.
“Why did you offer for me?”
“Madness. I forgot how you value long titles.”
“I don’t. Not anymore. And I won’t marry Demian.” Defiantly, she stamped her unslippered foot. The floor was relentlessly hard. She scowled in a most unladylike manner.
“Ow!”
Warmth crept back into Thomas’s eyes.
“No?”
“No! And don’t try to talk me into it, my mind is quite made up.”
“Your father shall have an apoplexy.”
“He would have, anyway.”
“If you’d become my mistress, you mean?”
“Yes.” Raquel met his eyes at last. They were twinkling. She could hardly think why.
“Don’t look so glum. You can still be my mistress, if you wish.” Some of the laughter was back in Thomas’s voice. She peeped at him from under her long, curling lashes.
“You will be well served if I do!”
“Is that a promise, Lady Raquel?” Thomas’s arrogance seemed to be reemerging. The room brightened even as a rosy flush appeared on Raquel’s cheeks.
“As much of a promise as the one you made two minutes ago.”
Mr. Endicott searched his memory. “Ah, yes. It is, as I said, a long syllabus.” Raquel caught her breath, for he was indeed beautiful when his face was animated.
“When we are married, we shall begin our second lesson instantly.”
“We are not getting married.”
“Don’t argue with your teacher. Would you prefer banns or a special license?” Thomas took her in his arms and placed a kiss upon her tousled head. Sad to say, the lovely Lady Raquel Fortesque-Benton was looking like a dresser’s worst nightmare. He continued, for Raquel was staring at him blankly.
“You will note, I am not entirely autocratic. Here and there I permit a modicum of choice. Personally, I would go with the special license, but far be it for me to influence your decision.” Another kiss, this time on her brow.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Kissing? It is pleasant and imperative to my curriculum.”
“No. You know what I mean! It is not necessary to wed me. You said yourself—”
“Good God, don’t start quoting me! I say some hideously foolish things at times!”
“But marriage . . .”
“Yes, a severe but necessary step, I am afraid. I never impart my . . . uh, considerable wisdom to unversed maidens. A foolish quirk of mine, but there it is.”
“But you do not love me.”
“Do I not?”
“No!”
“How remiss of me not to mention it, but that is the first lesson, you know.”
“What is?”
“Mmm . . . a slow pupil, but we will progress.” Now he was playing with her hair, wreaking more havoc than ever. It was nothing compared with the havoc of her racing heart. He seemed likely to kiss her.
“Lesson one. Both partners must love each other. Utterly essential, not an issue. I have loved you since you first turned your back on me at the ball. Heaven knows why, but heaven works in strange ways. Now I love you because you are kind, you are caring, you are capable, you are a diamond beyond compare and . . . you are mine. You cannot deny that, Raquel, can you?”
“No, I cannot.” It was a tremulous whisper, but Thomas heard it. He lifted her chin and examined that beautiful, pink bow. It was begging for a kiss. He did not think he could be so heartless as to decline.
But just then, there was a timid knocking at the door.
Twenty
Miss Amy Mayhew regarded her surroundings with interest. The house was bare of almost all furniture, but clean. A small fire burned in the grate, but there hardly looked to be the wood to feed it. Behind her, a beautiful young woman busied herself above the boiling pot, stirring all the while so that steam rose into her face. She did not seem to mind, but poured water into the only cup that seemed to be available and stirred in cocoa from a very old jar. Her husband—Amy surmised him to be so, for the woman scolded at him for neglecting to clean the mug, and for not ushering her in immediately when she had stood in the doorway—seemed to find something spectacularly amusing, for a grin kept creeping onto his delightfully handsome face. Not godlike, like the duke’s, of course, but rakish. She liked them, though they seemed rather odd, especially the woman. For some reason, she was dressed only in underclothes. She did not seem in the least conscious of this fact.
Truth to tell, Raquel had forgotten. In a whirl of unutterable bliss, she handed Amy her drink and smiled. “I am so sorry. We appear to be out of all refreshments.”
“Not so!” Thomas pointed to the laden basket.
“Goodness, I am a scatter-wit today! Lady Caroline, we must thank you most sincerely for this. I was famished, and the pies were excellent.”
“Were they? I do not believe I sampled them. I was the recipient of some horrible gruel.” Thomas glared at Raquel, who smothered a giggle. It had been years, she thought, since she had been so unladylike as to giggle.
The lady in the damp silver ball gown shook her dark head. “I am glad the pies were good, but they were not from me. Lady Caroline is still up at the castle. I am—”
But Thomas, who suddenly had a very good notion of who she was, hushed her.
“Miss Amy Mayhew? I believe I have heard of you.”
The lady looked confused. “That is impossible, sir. No one knows me hereabouts!”
“Lady Caroline does. I spoke to her about you up at the castle. She seems to feel, you see, that her brother—”
“Oh, pray do not speak of him!” Amy surprised herself by trembling. Thomas fetched in the smoke-charred chair and bade her sit.
He wondered what Demian had done to cast the lady into such an agitation of nerves. She seemed, otherwise, quite sensible.
The lady with the glorious golden hair smiled.
“Drink your cocoa, Miss Mayhew, the sweetness shall revive you and you shall tell us what you are doing wading through all this snow. Not even I have been intrepid enough to try it, though Thomas nearly caught his death in doing so last night.”
“It was foolish.” Tears lent a sheen to Miss Mayhew’s warm, direct eyes. She brushed them away with embarrassment. “I am not usually such a watering pot. You must excuse me.”
“Oh, think nothing of it! I daresay I am worse!” Lady Raquel answered sunnily. Whoever she was, she liked Miss Mayhew. Despite the fact that her entrance was rather inopportune—for she was certain Thomas had meant to kiss her at last—the lady was charming, friendly and obviously in distress. It behooved Raquel to help. Impulsively, she set her arms about the dark-haired lady.
“Oh, what a beautiful dress! And look at me! I should not be seen dead in these borrowed plumes. They are Lady Caro’s shift and petticoats! What you must think! Thomas, see if my organdy has dried.”
Thomas stifled a grin at Raquel’s imperiousness. It was good to see her in spirits again. He quirked a lofty brow in her direction so that she blushed, then bowed mildly and did as he was bade. The dress was creased, but dry, so Raquel stepped into it and made a face. “Yours is much better, though I fancy it is damp, too.”
“Yes, though I will take my chances! Your husband might not like me in my petticoats.”
Raquel glanced at Thomas. He looked most unhelpful. Quite amused, in fact, so she tried to explain herself. “He is not my—”
“Hush, dear. We do not want to shock Miss Mayhew.”
Amy looked puzzled. Then light dawned. “Oh!” She blushed crimson.
“You have never met us here, Miss Mayhew. We are merely a figment of your imagination. And the next time we meet, which we undoubtedly will, we shall certainly be man and wife.”
“Oh! So that is the way of it!” Amy sounded a little wistful. “It is wonderful to see true love go so smoothly. I shall not breathe a word of the matter.”
“Very kind of you. Now, tell us your story. We are agog.”
“It is not mine to tell. I needed to get away and like a scatter-wit I simply dashed off, thinking to get to the nearest inn, which I believe is some six miles back. In my haste, I hurried off without even my reticule, so my situation is now thoroughly hopeless. I shall have to go back, I suppose.” Amy did not appear pleased at the prospect.
“Miss Mayhew, I did not have much conversation with Lady Caroline, but that which I did have led me to believe you were in good hands. Demian, though I would not puff of his consequence to tell him so, is truly the best of good people. It is not he, surely, who has put you in such a pelter?”
“I would rather not answer that.” Amy sounded stiff, but Raquel could see the sparkle of silver tears threatening to drown her elfin face. She clasped one of Amy’s hands.
“Come! Even I, who have the greatest reason to be in dread of the duke, cannot think ill of him. Are you sure you are not mistaken in his use of you? For though you are circumspectly quiet, your very silence speaks volumes.”
“I am sorry for that. His Grace is undoubtedly charming.”
“But you are not charmed?”
Amy blushed. “Oh, I was! It is foolish to deny it. He is . . . oh, he is everything a young lady dreams of.”
Raquel shook her head and pointed saucily to Thomas. “Nonsense. He is everything a young lady dreams of.”
“Spare my blushes, my lady!” But he did not look like he was blushing, only smirking, slightly, so that Raquel was inclined to throw one of Lady Caroline’s peaches at him.
“He did not . . . oh, don’t say he . . .”
“No, he was all that was gentlemanly. At least . . .” Amy hesitated and blushed.
“Yes?” Both listeners were captivated. They prompted Amy together, eager to hear the cause of her embarrassment. Her eyes, cast down in a tangle of lashes, revealed little, but her hands, playing convulsively with the ribbons of her gown, said much for her agitation.
“I believe I might possibly have encouraged him . . .”
Thomas laughed. “You are a beauty, Miss Mayhew. Demi is no saint. I still do not see the problem.”
“I did not know who he was. I thought he was a glorified servant. Genteel, but impoverished.”
“Well, two out of three is not a calamity!”
“It is to me. I am not a lady; we move in different circles, he and I.”
“Not insurmountable. There are many countesses—even princesses—about these days that could claim the same.”
“Possibly. You may not realize, however, that His Grace is betrothed to be married. Lady Caroline mentioned it only last night. Not common knowledge, but a fact, nonetheless.”
“Oh, is that all? I wouldn’t worry your head too much about that fact!”
“Sir, I may have had my head turned, I may even have acted . . . wantonly. I regret that, but I would never knowingly hurt another. Think of the lady for one moment. She didn’t ask the duke to behave so unpardonably! I, had I but known, would not have countenanced his outrageous behavior whatever my private inclination. And, there! Now you know all, though I had meant to be silent. I trust you will be discreet with this confidence as I shall be with yours.”
Mr. Endicott nodded.
“Perhaps the duke knew the lady’s affections were not engaged?”
“How could he know that?”
Now it was Raquel’s turn to blush. “Not hard, Miss Mayhew, for the lady has a shrewish disposition, treated the matter like an unflattering business proposition, behaved as cold as ice, froze his blood, and threatened to have lovers within wedlock.”
“Impossible! I am told the lady is beautiful beyond compare.”
Now it was Thomas’s turn to join in the singular discussion. “She is, but shrewish, with a tongue like a whip—”
“Only when necessary.”
Amy looked bemused. “You speak as if you know her.”
“Not as intimately as I shall, but yes, I know her.” Mr. Endicott’s laughing eyes never left Raquel’s face.
“You mean . . . oh, no! I must surely be dreaming! You cannot be . . .”
“The Lady Raquel Fortesque-Benton. I am, Miss Mayhew, and delighted to make your acquaintance. You seem nice.”
“So do you, but—”
“Hush! Is that the door?”
It was. Thomas looked resigned.
“It is the duke. I know his knock. What do you want us to do?”
“Oh!” Amy could hardly think. He might have followed her footprints down, or else he might simply be wishing to visit his affianced. Either way, she was in no case to face him again.
“Oh, I couldn’t, I . . .” She was trembling.
“Come, Miss Mayhew! Demian may be many things but he is not an ogre! Nevertheless, if you wish, we shall retire together to the bedchamber. I fancy Lady Raquel has something to say to him, at all events.” So saying, he held open the bedchamber door and gestured her to follow. Just as well he did, for His Grace was not a patient man.
He pushed open the door and beheld Raquel, in crumpled organdy and flowing hair.
“Good Lord! You look . . .” He had been about to say “human” but bit his tongue in time. Lady Raquel smiled.
“I do look like a dishrag, don’t I? Come in, Your Grace. There is precious little warmth left in our fire. I hope you mean to rescue us.”
“Us? Oh, you mean Thomas? Where is he, anyway?”
“He has tactfully left us to our own devices. Your Grace, I have something to say . . .”
“No, wait! It is I who must say something, though if you wish to cut my heart out, I shall not blame you in the least.”
“This sounds serious. Care for a peach?” Raquel held out one of Lady Caroline’s offerings.
“No. I don’t know where to begin, really.”
“At the beginning?”
“Hard to say where that is. Lady Raquel, when I offered for your hand, you begged me to wait. You wished me to speak to your father before announcing anything or posting the banns.”
“Yes?”
“In that intervening time, something has made me wish to withdraw that offer. If you can find it in you to release me from my bond, I would be most grateful.”
“And if I cannot?”
“I shall endeavor to live with the fact, but I cannot guarantee you a happy life. For myself, I believe it will be bleak.”
“I am not such an antidote, Your Grace!” Her ladyship’s eyes twinkled. Demian thought it from indignation, but in truth, Raquel could hardly stifle her laughter. She hoped Amy could hear everything from within.
Demian played with the folds of his cravat. “Indeed, no! You should get rid of your dresser. She does you no justice. Much better to have rumpled skirts and flowing locks.”
“Indeed? Then I must release you from the betrothal at once, my lord, for you clearly have no sense of decorum or taste. Rumpled skirts indeed! ”
His Grace looked so comically relieved, Raquel actually did chuckle.
“You are not sorry to lose my fortune?”
“No. I am richer by ten thousand pounds and a whole heart.” Demian grinned lightheartedly. His hand was already on the handle of the sentry door.
“Tell Thomas I shall send a chaise down within the hour. I am so sorry, Lady Fortesque-Benton. I must leave you.”
“Why such a hurry? Most unseemly, Demian.” Mr. Endicott appeared seemingly from nowhere.
“I am sorry, Thomas. I have to go. There is a lady—”
“Ah, a lady.” Thomas grinned and folded his arms across his broad chest.
“That is my shirt!”
“Indeed. It is a pity you are such a paltry fellow, Demian, for I can hardly get the buttons up; I must look like a pirate.”
“You always look like a pirate. But come, I am in haste.”
“Ah, yes. The lady. Is she worth such exertion? Have a drink of burgundy. Caroline, dear soul, tucked that in with the muffins. Naturally, she forgot a new gown for her ladyship, but then, one must have priorities.” He slung his arm casually about Lady Raquel, leaving Demian in no doubt about his new circumstances.
The duke grinned. “Lord, Caro was in the right of it! She guessed there was something havey cavey going on down here. I wouldn’t put it past her to have forgotten the gown on purpose. Just so long as I don’t have to draw swords with you?”
“Close run thing, Demian. But no, her ladyship is still entirely virtuous thanks to that miserable promise you elicited from me!”
“Excellent. I would drink to your health, but I have a young lady to pursue.”
“Where to?”
“To London. There to find an Aunt Ermentrude and beg her a thousand times for the felicity of her niece’s hand. It shouldn’t be difficult. From what I hear, if I travel in the ducal chaise she will swoon with ecstasy.”
“And the young lady?”
“Has much to forgive. I shall have to grovel. She is worth it.”
