How to Handle a Scandal (11 page)

“Good. I like India better.”

The thought of bringing this obnoxious boy with him to India was far from appealing. “Well, your aunt may have other ideas when we find her. She’ll probably want you to stay with her.”

The boy smirked and began to kick the table legs.

The rest of the day passed in similar fashion, and Tommy was nearly at his wits’ end by the time he decided to pay a visit to his brother. “He has children,” he told Rex as they made their way to Halifax House, “and toys.”

“I don’t play with toys,” Rex said tartly. “I’m thirteen.”

“Nevertheless,” Tommy said in a steely voice, “we’ll go see him.”

Will and Anna were at home, for which Tommy was extremely thankful. Anna had hardly heard more than the barest outline of the boy’s story when she offered, as Tommy had been urgently hoping she might, for Rex to stay at Halifax House.

“He’d be around Heck and Victoria here with us, even if they’re younger,” Anna said. “Gilden House really isn’t an environment for children. If only Marcus wasn’t away at the Thorntons’ studying with their tutor, he might be a friend to Rex, since they’re about the same age. But just now, it’s nothing but adults.”

“Exactly,” Tommy said with what he knew was a shameful amount of relief. But it was better this way.

* * *

Truehart Manor was quieter with only Thomasina and Susie left—a fortunate circumstance, considering Lord Quimble’s threat—but as the days went by, Eliza realized this was a good thing, because she was finding herself far more tired than usual. Since she was used to pushing herself, she didn’t at first think much of it. However, when she arose for the third day in a row and had to race for her chamber pot to cast up her accounts, she knew she couldn’t hide from the truth any longer.

Her always-regular courses were late. Food sickened her. She was exhausted.

She knew the signs because she’d looked for them so fruitlessly in the years she was married.

She was going to have a baby.

She should have been in a panic. She, an unmarried woman, was expecting a child. If her state were discovered, the scandal would be tremendous, never mind what Tommy would say if he found out. She ought to be ashamed, but she wasn’t. All she could feel was wonder and gratitude.

The baby was an answer to the secret prayers she had not even allowed herself to say.

Already she was dreaming of taking her baby for walks and sitting in a garden together in the sunshine, her tiny son or daughter laughing and babbling. The thoughts made her so happy—though not so unrealistic that she didn’t acknowledge that her situation was something of a disaster.

Her baby would have no father—or at least, not a father who acknowledged him or her—because she wasn’t going to tell Tommy. He was leaving for India in a month or two, and from everything she knew, women rarely looked as though they were increasing until well after that. All she needed to do was keep the baby secret until sometime after his departure. When he found out at some future date that she’d had a baby, he’d be thousands of miles away and, considering what he thought of her, very likely to think it was the child of some other man. She certainly couldn’t imagine him returning to England simply to force her to marry him.

Anyway, it had been abundantly clear that disastrous night that sharing a child between them would be an undertaking fraught with anger and resentment, and she would never subject her child to such a life. She was at fault for what had happened, and it was only right that Tommy should not be affected by any consequences. Never mind that she didn’t
want
him to be affected; this was
her
baby, and she already loved her little one so much.

Telling her family and friends about the baby without lying or mentioning a father was going to be a challenge, but surely she could come up with something, and she still had time to decide what. She was hardly the first unmarried gentlewoman to find herself expecting a child. She was wealthy and resourceful, and she and her baby would find a way to be happy.

She made dreamy plans to go away for a few months somewhere nice to have the baby, perhaps in a little house by the sea, and ignored the reasonable voice that said this wasn’t going to be as easy as she wished. All that mattered was that she was going to be a mother.

Over the next days, she went around with a secret smile, keeping up with her long lists of duties while secretly dreaming of the future. But fatigue dogged her, and when she overslept a week later, she was surprised that no one had come to wake her—until she remembered that Meg was taking Thomasina and Susie to the Royal Menagerie. The two girls had progressed to the point of being ready for Francesca’s school, and when Meg had insisted they should have some treats before they went, Eliza could only agree.

She rang for a breakfast tray, which arrived bearing toast and tea. But though she normally enjoyed her morning tea, the mere sight of it that day made her queasy. She forced herself to nibble a bit of toast and had managed half a slice when there was a knock at the bedchamber door. To her surprise, Anna came in.

“You’re not dressed,” Anna said, clearly dismayed.

Eliza covered a yawn. “Good morning to you, too. I’m just getting up. What on earth are you doing here so early?”

“It’s not that early. And you’ll have to hurry, or we’ll be late for the Bridewell luncheon.”

She’d forgotten the Bridewell luncheon. Caught up in her enforced busyness, and not wanting to see or hear about Tommy, she’d been avoiding Will and Anna, along with any social engagements. She’d accepted the invitation to the Bridewells’ yearly event weeks before. Was forgetting things part of increasing as well?

“Actually, I don’t know if I, er…” she began.

“The Bridewells are expecting all of us, as usual. And Will and I haven’t seen you in what seems like ages.”

“I’ve just been terribly busy.”

“Knowing you, I’m sure you have. But you have to make time for fun.” Anna smiled with extra cheer. “Tommy will be there.”

Wonderful.

“Um…” It would be rude to bow out at the last minute, but the thought of tables of food sickened her, and she was definitely not ready to see Tommy. But before she could come up with a tiny white lie (and she meant it to be very tiny, since she hated fibbing to Anna), a look of concern came over Anna’s face.

“Are you ill?” She drew closer and peered at Eliza. “You do look a bit pale. Are you feverish?” She pressed her hand to Eliza’s forehead. “You don’t
feel
hot.”

“I’m fine.” Eliza forced a smile.

But Anna ignored her and examined her face, as though she might diagnose something merely from the state of Eliza’s skin. “Is it some kind of female trouble?”

Eliza almost succumbed to a nervous laugh, but kept herself in check. She wasn’t yet ready to say anything about the baby. “Really, it’s nothing.”

“Perhaps we ought to call Dr. Henley, just be to certain.”

Eliza nearly squeaked. A doctor would certainly have ideas about what was wrong with her. “Truly, I was only being lazy. But now that you’re here, I feel just the thing.” There was nothing for it; she would have to go. “If you’ll give me a minute, I’ll get dressed.”

Anna, looking relieved and a bit smug, left Eliza to dress, admonishing her not to take too long, though she needn’t have worried on that score. Eliza knew Will was waiting in the carriage, and the less time she kept him, the better, because she didn’t want to have to answer questions from him as well. But she wouldn’t be able to keep this kind of thing up much longer, she thought as she slipped into a brown silk gown.

The Bridewell luncheon was a sort of unofficial gathering for those who lingered in Town into September, and while Eliza always made time for this chance to see friends who would soon leave for their country homes, it was invariably a long repast full of great quantities of food, which, given her current state, was not an appealing prospect.

Nor was the prospect of seeing Tommy appealing, considering their last meeting and the fact that she was secretly carrying his baby. At least the luncheon would be crowded, and since he hated her, he’d be unlikely to want to spend more than the briefest moments in her company.

Ten minutes later she was settling onto a seat in the Grandville coach with a cheerful look pasted on her face.

“What’s the theme food this year?” she asked. The annual luncheon featured a different food every year. It had been exotic vegetables of the world last year, and Eliza was crossing her fingers for fruits this year.

“Game meats,” Will said, rubbing his hands. Eliza nearly moaned.

“Wonderful,” she said, forcing a jolly note into her voice.

“Isn’t it?” he said. “I was out for a ride this morning with Louie, and I’m famished.”

* * *

Tommy was in the Bridewells’ drawing room with the hordes of other luncheon guests when his brother, Anna, and Lizzie arrived. He’d known she would be there—it was why he’d agreed to come. Tommy hadn’t seen her since their midnight encounter, nor had he received any note from her, so surely there hadn’t been any consequences from their encounter.

Still, he needed to be certain.

He went over to join his brother’s party, asking first after Rex, and hoping the boy had settled in after two days in his brother’s household. Anna said that Heck seemed to have taken to him, which sounded good.

“I’ve dispatched someone to look for the aunt,” Tommy said, “but it will be a few days at least before there is any news.” With luck, the issue of Rex would be resolved before Tommy left Town at the end of the week to visit the estate he’d just bought in Kent, which was now officially his.

“Who’s Rex?” Lizzie asked.

“He’s the son of a friend from India,” Tommy said. “I’m looking after him, in a way.” Then Tommy asked if he might borrow Lizzie for a moment.

“Surely I don’t need to be checked out like a book from a lending library,” she said. Though she was making a joke, her voice was carefully neutral, which was just as well. The last thing either of them needed was to make Will or Anna think something suspicious was going on.

He steered her toward a portion of the large room where no one else had wandered, probably because it was at the farthest distance from the hearth and the room was chilly.

“Well?” he said.

She was wearing a silky brownish gown, which looked nice enough on her, though it wasn’t doing her usually glowing complexion any favors. Her hair was carelessly arranged, as though she’d simply twisted it into a knot and jabbed pins in it randomly, and he wondered with a spike of something he didn’t want to examine whether she’d been out late the night before and had little time for her toilette that morning. Looking into her eyes, he suddenly recalled the vulnerability that had been there that night they’d…

Stop thinking about that night
, he told himself firmly. But it wasn’t the first time he’d recalled it. How could he not, when along with being a disaster, it had been so incredibly erotic?

Her chin lifted. “I’m not a child to be corrected, Tommy.”

“You know what this is about. I want to know whether my life is about to change.”

“It’s not,” she said, and there was no mistaking the sureness of her reply.

Thank God
. He’d dodged a bullet. Hell, they both had, and the grateful knowledge made him feel almost charitable toward her.

“Good news, then.” He luxuriated for several moments in the relief. He hadn’t realized what a weight the possible dramatic change in his fortunes had been, hanging over him like a dark cloud of doom. He was in no position to marry, even if he’d wanted to marry Lizzie, which he certainly didn’t.

But practical considerations had hounded him, and he’d kept imagining a hazy future with her, and then he would think of all the marriages he knew that were disasters. Really, except for his brother, Tommy didn’t know anyone happily married, and he was a keen enough observer of the obvious to know when a gamble wasn’t worth taking.

Lizzie didn’t look as relieved as he felt, but then, she’d known for however long—a week or two, he supposed—that she wasn’t increasing. He should have insisted she tell him either way as soon as she was certain, but he’d only insisted that she contact him if there were consequences, and so she had not. Perhaps she only just knew, though he didn’t in the least want to consider the physical details of any of this business.

“If I might,” he said, “as an almost-relative, offer advice about any future such risky undertakings—”

“Don’t,” she said. “My affairs are my own, just as yours are your own. All we need do is be civil to each other, and I think we can manage that.”

He nodded.

Luncheon was announced at that moment, and he allowed himself to express a little of his sudden lightheartedness.

“Are you ready for the marathon of conversation and food that is the Bridewell luncheon?”

A grim look came over her face that seemed out of proportion to his comment.

“Gad,” was her only reply, and they went into the dining room.

Once seated at the Bridewells’ long luncheon table, Tommy found himself next to Mrs. Parfitt, a mannish, vigorous lady of fifty with whom Tommy’s stepmother, Judith, had once traveled in Egypt. He remembered Mrs. Parfitt as a great lover of dogs.

Lizzie was across the table and several seats away, next to Mr. Hawke-Jones, a distinguished-looking older gentleman, who’d looked extremely pleased to be sitting next to Lizzie.

Eliza
, he thought. Distrustful and angry as he’d been with her, he’d made no effort to acknowledge that she preferred this name. It actually
was
hard to remember to call her that, because she’d been Lizzie in his mind for years, even if he’d tried never to think of her. But she was older now, and it made sense that she’d want a more sophisticated name. And maybe, he allowed grudgingly, she
had
changed a little for the better. He had to admit to being impressed at the relatively reasonable way she’d handled the conversation with him about what had been a very awkward subject.

“Finally came home to England, did you?” Mrs. Parfitt said to Tommy in the sort of loud, firm tone one used when summoning dogs from across a windswept moor. Apparently age had not diminished her memorable assertiveness. “Looking for a wife, I’ll wager. Unless you’ve taken one of those Indian ladies to wife?”

“I am not married, ma’am,” he said pleasantly.

“So you are seeking a wife in England,” she announced in that dog-calling voice. Tommy felt the eyes of everyone at their end of the table swing toward him.

“Indeed I am not,” he replied. “I have come on business and to visit family.”

She nodded. “Yes, the knighthood. But you’ll be wanting a wife,” she insisted in her loud voice. “You’re of that age, and you’re the man of the moment. Best strike while the iron’s hot and find a pretty gel.”

He was saved from the necessity of a reply by the arrival of a footman offering a dish of venison, which Tommy declined. He and Louie had had a late evening the night before (and though Louie had been up in time for a ride with Will, Tommy noticed that his cousin had managed to avoid the luncheon). Tommy had barely managed to choke down a cup of strong coffee that morning and get dressed in time to leave for the Bridewells’. His stomach had not yet awoken to the point of desiring venison.

Nor did he wish for the sliced boar that came around next, though he took a little of the grouse to be sociable. But he drew the line at a dish of mysterious-looking meat in murky brown sauce that was billed as “mountain hare” but which he suspected might be badger. Why anyone should wish to pass badger off as hare, Tommy couldn’t have said, save that Lord Bridewell was known to have an impish sense of humor.

Lizzie—no,
Eliza
, he must make the effort—laughed at something Hawke-Jones said, and Tommy couldn’t help but recall how much he used to love her laugh. It was throaty, and when she really got going, it came out as a cascade of husky notes that was pretty much the essence of uncontrolled delight.

Ridiculously, he felt annoyed that he wasn’t the one making her laugh.

Why should he care? He had no intentions toward her, and especially not now that they weren’t going to be forced into marriage. He hardly knew her anymore.

Except, that wasn’t exactly true. Some things about a person didn’t change. The sense of humor, for one thing, and now that he could relax about the whole thing a little, he had to admit that she’d been extremely fun at Madame Persaud’s—which had been, of course, why he’d kissed her. She’d been so irresistibly playful and unbelievably sensual…

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as memories of that night worked a predictable effect on him. Her innocent-seeming eagerness had been almost unbearably erotic, as though what they were doing was new to her. But how could it be, since she’d already been married? Still, it had been one of the most satisfying sexual encounters he’d ever had—until he’d realized who his partner was.

A bony elbow in his ribs dragged his attention back to Mrs. Parfitt. “What about Miss Ablewhite over there?”

Poor, oblivious Miss Ablewhite, hearing her name being bandied about from several seats away, glanced up with a startled look.

“She’d make you a very nice wife.”

Tommy sent an apologetic smile in Miss Ablewhite’s direction. The young lady looked to be all of fifteen, and she blanched shyly as she stared at him with a sort of awe. The pointy elbow dug again into his ribs; apparently Mrs. Parfitt required a reply.

“Miss Ablewhite is all that is lovely,” he said with a brotherly smile in the girl’s direction, “but she need hardly be looking to an old man such as myself for a husband.”

Mrs. Parfitt cackled.

Anna smiled at him across the table. “Tommy, you ought to tell about riding an elephant,” she said. “You’re surely the only one present who’s done so.”

He obliged her. Most of his end of the table listened, and laughter greeted the part of his story at which the elephant stepped on the picnic lunch that had been the whole purpose of the outing. How foreign India would seem to these people—the way the heat of the day spread the scents of cardamom and curry through the streets, the chatter issuing from a zenana, where the Indian wives and mistresses of Englishmen lived with their slave girls and eunuchs. He missed everything from the talk of Hindoo gods to the riotously colored flowers. He missed how different it was.

Not that he begrudged the
ton
the predictable, contented way its members spent their time managing their estates and gathering at house parties. He just didn’t want to be one of them. Or at least, not for decades.

Though Anna and Will had refrained from pressing him in any way, he knew they were hoping he might be tempted to return to England for good. But he couldn’t do it. Just last night, he’d met with the Minister for Foreign Affairs to discuss Tommy’s perspective on various political situations in the regions surrounding Hyderabad, and he’d have a great deal to address when he returned to India.

A footman came around with a “surprise treat” reputed to be salted bear meat imported from America, and Tommy repressed a shudder.

He could see his brother, at the very farthest end of the table, piling some of the bear onto his plate while talking to a government minister. Fatherhood seemed to have given Will an even larger appetite than he’d had before, though Tommy couldn’t see where he was putting all the food he ate, because he was still in excellent form. Running after his children, as he so often did, probably kept him trim.

It was funny how different two brothers could be. Will, as viscount, had an enormous number of people who depended on him, a situation that Tommy felt certain would have suffocated him. But his brother always seemed like a man who couldn’t believe his good fortune. Good thing, then, that Will was the eldest.

He ought to see about doing something nice for Will and Anna, as a thank-you for hosting Rex. Tommy devoutly hoped the boy wasn’t being too much trouble.

“I see you haven’t had any of the meat dishes, Sir Tommy,” Mrs. Parfitt announced. “Did you turn against meat in India, as is customary there?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Eliza stifling a laugh at his expense.

He smiled at Mrs. Parfitt. There was something clarifying about her that he liked, even though she was bandying his unmarried status about as though it were a topic for general discussion. Though tempted to agree that he’d given up meat and thereby save himself in case the next course was something like roasted rat, he knew doing so would only lead to future dinners at people’s houses consisting of far more vegetables than he’d want. He loved meat. He just didn’t want any at that moment, and certainly not salted bear.

“No, ma’am,” he said. “And many in India do eat meat.”

The pointy elbow returned, revisiting a spot on his ribs that was growing tender from the repeated abuse. “How about Miss Vale, then, for a wife?” She jerked her chin at a plumpish, startled woman of perhaps twenty-five whom Tommy didn’t know. “She looks a likely contender, and she has a fine rump.”

“Mrs. Parfitt, please,” Anna said with gentle firmness as Miss Vale blinked furiously. “Let us remember that some observations are too personal.”

The lady merely nodded at this, as though accustomed to commentary about her commentary. Which was doubtless the case, given how free and loud she was with her opinions.

“Oh look,” Mrs. Parfitt said. “Lady Truehart is only having the turnips and carrots. What’s going on with the young people of today? Don’t they need to feed their blood with good meat?”

Eliza blanched at these words, turning so pale that she looked a bit green. “I, er, think it’s good for us all to eat lightly of meat at least once a week. This is, unfortunately, my light day.”

Tommy thought her voice sounded strained.

Mrs. Parfitt sniffed. “When I was a girl, I ate meat three times a day and was the better for it. No wonder you’re so pale and slim.” She peered at Eliza. “You might be a widow, but you’re still a mere child. You need guiding.” She turned to Anna. “Do you offer her your wisdom, Lady Grandville, as the wife of her uncle?”

Anna looked startled at this question, but before she could frame an answer, Eliza said, “Ices!” in a breathless voice. “I hear there are to be ices. The last of the season, don’t you suppose?”

Mrs. Parfitt was happy to give her opinion on ices as well. (They were a waste of money and in no way as nourishing as a good syllabub, but when she was a guest, she ate what she was served with pleasure whether she liked it or not.) Getting Mrs. Parfitt to expound on her opinions, Tommy realized as he saw Eliza’s expression relax, had been her intention; she seemed eager to move the topic away from her eating habits and her pale appearance.

The observation gave him a stirring of unease.

“Lady Truehart!” Mrs. Parfitt said, as if coming to a sudden understanding. She turned to Anna. “Don’t you think, Lady Grandville, that Lady Truehart would make the perfect wife for Sir Tommy? They can both eat vegetables together.”

“Er…” Anna began.

Mrs. Parfitt’s brow wrinkled as though she were reaching for some memory, and Tommy knew with a feeling of inevitability what was coming.

“Wasn’t there something about an engagement between them a while ago?”

“Oh look, Mrs. Parfitt,” Anna said with brilliant timing for which Tommy was grateful, “syllabub!”

By the end of lunch, he had decided that he needed to speak to Eliza again as soon as possible and in more detail, because her increasing pallor during lunch had begun to make him anxious.

What if she was mistaken about the possibility of a baby after all? What if she didn’t quite understand how to determine whether she was increasing? If she’d had her courses, that ought to be definitive, but he’d heard there could be false or confusing signs as to whether a woman was expecting. Indian women were far more open about bodies than English ladies, and he knew a bit more about such things than when he’d landed in India. Apparently, women could have irregular courses, or, astonishingly, not even realize they were pregnant until the baby was arriving.

He really didn’t want to think about any of this.

Still, it had only been a month or so since that fateful night, and he himself couldn’t see how a woman could know for certain if she was to have a baby until an enormous belly was present. Though he did know that ladies who were increasing were likely to be pale and queasy.

But what if
she
didn’t know all the right signs? As an unmarried woman, she might feel she couldn’t consult a doctor who, while he ought to be trustworthy with such information, was nonetheless human and a risk for gossip. And she might hesitate to ask a friend for guidance—particularly Anna, who would likely ferret out the truth. Of one thing he was certain: neither he nor Eliza could want Anna and Will to know any portion of what had happened.

He caught up with her as the guests were milling about in the drawing room after lunch, most of them, save Eliza and Tommy, moving very slowly with the weight of too much heavy food.

“Eliza, we have to talk,” he said in a low voice.

She looked startled. “Why? We’ve already talked.”

“I think there may be more to discuss.”

“No, really,” she said, but he ignored her and pulled her into the empty corridor.

“I just want to be absolutely certain there won’t be any consequences from that night,” he said.

* * *

Eliza’s stomach flipped over. She’d told herself that she hadn’t lied to him before lunch when he’d asked whether his life was about to change, because it wasn’t. He didn’t want a baby and she did. Since that was the case, she saw no need for him even to know. Why was he asking again?

“I told you there wouldn’t be.”

“Yes,” he said, “but then it occurred to me that perhaps you might be mistaken. That the, er, signs might not be easy to interpret, unless there was something definite to indicate otherwise.”

She flushed. He meant her courses. He wanted to know if she’d had her courses. She would have to lie.

“Um,” she said.

“Eliza,” he said sternly, “I need to be absolutely certain you’re not increasing.” He paused, as though something had just occurred to him, and his eyes narrowed. “And if there
was
some outcome of our joining, I have a right to know. Besides, it’s not as if you could keep such a thing a secret.”

“But I could!” she blurted out before she could stop herself. “I could keep it a secret.”

His jaw hardened instantly. “So you
are
increasing. You lied to me.” The lethal rasp in his voice reminded her that dispatching dangerous pirates was all in a day’s work for him. “I should have known.”

She tugged at the arm he held, but he didn’t release her.

“Very well, yes! I lied by omission,” she said, aware of the need to keep her voice low, with people just inside the drawing room. “But only because I mean to take care of everything so you
won’t
be affected. It’s my fault this happened. I have a plan—I mean to go away to have the baby.”