Read Invitation to Scandal Online
Authors: Bronwen Evans
Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General
Invitation to Scandal (10 page)
“With the money you will make off just two of Caesar’s progeny, you could buy more than a dozen mares.”
Rheda shut her eyes. He watched her struggling with her dilemma. She opened them, and he saw his victory within their swirling depths.
She gave a strained smile. “But what good is a dozen or so mares with no stallion to service them?” She chewed her bottom lip; the sight sent more jolts of lust to his groin. “I will agree to your payment solution if I can have Caesar back to service the mares I buy from the first offspring.”
His expression sobered. She was clever, very clever. So clever he wondered if he was doing the right thing. “You’re agreeing to my offer?”
She shrugged her slender shoulders. “What choice do I have? To save my dreams of owning a horse stud I have to make a pact with the devil. So be it. I’m a realist, Lord Strathmore. I’ll get what I want, but I warn you, my lord, I’m sure you’ll be left wanting.”
He smiled at her sharp tongue. “I always get what I want, and right now, I’d like a kiss to seal the deal, Rheda.”
He said her name softly, his tone almost a caress. His proposal was dangerous, but to call his bluff, to decline his offer, would mean untold suffering for all those she loved.
If she was discovered smuggling, Daniel’s chance of a good marriage and restoring the de Winter name to prominence would be destroyed. Also without the horse stud, what would happen to the villagers of Deal once Dark Shadow was no more? What would happen to those who had nothing? Those she kept clothed and fed?
It did not signify that her reputation would be ruined. She felt honor bound to continue the financial help the villagers now relied upon. The pounding pain in her head struck her anew. She had no choice but to fall in with his plan. But she’d not make it easy for him.
“There is one more thing—Rufus.” She gave in and used his name, wanting him relaxed for her next request.
He sighed. “What now? Is there more? Do you want me to tell Caesar to be gentle?”
She rolled her eyes. “You must promise me Daniel is never to know about our arrangement. It would destroy him. I may not care about my reputation, but he does. I’m the only family he’s got.”
He remained silent.
She pressed her point. “My brother shouldn’t suffer for my behavior. So, before you get heady with victory, my lord, what do you propose to do about my brother?”
That wiped the smile off his face.
He tapped his fingers to his chin, and his eyebrows drew together as he thought. He sighed. “I shall simply have to look as though I am courting you. I’m sure your brother would welcome such a suitable match given your reputation.” She gasped, horrified. “It would not be any hardship to pretend to be captivated by your beauty,” he added, his voice a husky entreaty.
“Daniel will no doubt read more into your proposition than you’d like. When you leave, he’s unlikely to take your ‘use’ of me quietly. He’s a marked swordsman, by the way.”
“He’s a mere boy, hardly a threat. You’re right, though. I wouldn’t want to cause your brother any further shame.” He looked at the ground and tugged his cuffs. Finally, he turned back to her. “I shall ensure that I give you a very public reason to refuse my offer and to douse any expectations. The sin will be mine. Satisfied?” If he could clear his father’s name, he’d not have to worry about a maligned courtship.
She heard him talk but didn’t hear his words. Her gaze focused on his lips. He had a beautiful mouth, she thought. The very idea of kissing him sent her nerves fizzing.
“Now shall we seal our deal? With a kiss, sweetheart?” His smile full of teasing couldn’t shock her out of her dreamy state. “I need practice in my courting skills.” Caught in his hypnotizing stare, she stood as still as the night while he bent slightly to bring his mouth into delicate contact with hers. It was a mere brushing of flesh against flesh, barely that, and yet she felt the sensation like a burning brand. Abruptly she shivered.
When he lifted his gaze, she could see satisfaction in his warm brown eyes.
With a casual finger, he stroked down her back and over the crease where her trousers molded her bottom. She felt his finger all the way through her clothes.
“While I much prefer my women naked, you do look enticing in trousers. Remind me to make you wear them another time so that I may have the pleasure of stripping them off you while I kiss down your long slender legs. You have the legs of a gazelle if I remember correctly.” His voice was husky, a low caress.
Alarm rose within her; he was so sure of himself. So sure she’d succumb to his skills as a lover, and that was definitely not part of their deal.
She couldn’t hide the tremble in her voice. “Have we finished here tonight, my lord?”
“Please, call me Rufus.”
She ignored him. Already her heart raced with a mix of trepidation and excitement. She did not wish to become more familiar with this man—except on her terms. What her terms were, she hadn’t quite decided.
Guilt raced through him. What was he doing? He’d never been this cold-blooded, this—dishonorable. Could he live with himself if he ruined her reputation irrevocably when she might not be guilty of anything but sharing a smuggled brandy barrel? For one moment a curl of doubt formed deep in his gut. But then he remembered Marguerite’s face as she slid the knife into his side. He remembered the pain of his wound and the agony of Andrew’s death.
He looked at the beauty before him and felt only loathing. She could be in league with an outlaw and mayhap traitor.
Yet, he could not lie to himself. Part of his desire to keep Rheda under his control was that he wanted her. He wanted her too much. He needed to remember to keep his mind firmly on the mission. He gave her one final concession.
“I will endeavor to be so convincing that Daniel and the rest of Kent’s local inhabitants will believe my pursuit of you is honorable.” So convincing, in fact, that the minx standing before him would give him the information he needed and end up in his bed.
She extended her hand. “We shall shake on it then.”
He took the small delicate bones within his and lifted her hand to his lips. The touch of skin-to-skin sent another jolt of desire pulsing through him. She watched him, and Rufus was satisfied when he felt her pulse speed up.
“I never shake hands with a woman.” So saying he turned her hand and kissed her open palm, very pleased at the shiver of response she could not hide.
She snatched her hand away as if seared by a hot coal. She began walking backward out of his reach. He desperately wanted to stop her but knew if he touched her again, his sharp hunger for her might cloak him in dishonor. He would not follow in his father’s footsteps and further tarnish the Strathmore name. Instead, he needed her off her guard, uncomfortable, and unaware of his intent to do whatever it took to pry her mouth open and reveal the truth. From the tales surrounding Rheda, her reference to Lord Hale as Christopher, and her response to his touch, he hoped she was more experienced in pleasures of the flesh than an unwed sister of a baron should be. For then her seduction would not see him galloping down a road to dishonor.
Guilty until proven innocent could be a costly stance to take. If she was innocent, her seduction would have consequences he didn’t wish to face.
The tension of the moment was broken by a whinny and horses’ hooves. Rufus looked to the tree line, and his jaw clamped shut. Jamieson had returned for her.
Rheda eyed her escape, needing no further encouragement. She turned and ran to safety.
Rufus raised his voice. “I shall call tomorrow morning. Have the mares ready.”
He watched until he could see them no more, then he slowly turned toward the house. Stephen appeared from the shadows as Rufus entered the orchard.
“I am assuming you have a new plan. Did you get what you required from Miss Kerrich?”
Rufus inwardly admitted he had not. His body still throbbed with want, but instead he said, “Yes. She has agreed to a pretend courtship while I am in Kent.”
“I say, Rufus—”
“A ruse only, Stephen.” At least until he could ascertain the secrets she protected—was she innocent?
“And how exactly will that help us? I know how it might help you, but I am hoping the fact she’s the baron’s sister has not escaped your mind,” Stephen added flatly. “Matrimony lies down that path. A fate worse than ... well, you don’t have to sacrifice everything for God and country.”
Rufus did not speak again until they had reached the terrace. “I am going to keep my eye on Miss Kerrich. I shall get her to introduce me to everyone in the area, particularly the villagers of Deal, who we already know think she’s a saint or else they would not have kept her identity a secret. I will wear her down, charm her, until she lets something slip or one of her accomplices does.”
“Having met Miss Kerrich, I’d wager that could take a long time,” Stephen replied mildly.
Rufus straightened his cravat. “Yes, well, I hope it won’t take too long. Too much time in her company, and I am more likely to beat the knowledge out of her whether she knows anything or not. That woman is annoying.”
“Then I suggest we find an alternative source of information. There must be others in the village that could be persuaded to talk. Greed can sometimes prove a better incentive than even your charms.”
“I have already tried that and failed,” Rufus said stiffly. “I have seen her with a barrel of French brandy. She knows something. And no slip of a woman will deny me.”
“That was not a criticism, my friend.” Stephen rushed to assure. “You did an excellent job finding the smuggler’s location here in Deal. Because of you, we are one step closer to unearthing our traitor.” The younger man hesitated. “But the Earl of Ashford will hang you out to dry if you get caught defiling an innocent. The Foreign Secretary will disown all knowledge of you, and the Strathmore name will be thoroughly tarnished for good.”
They had reached the doors back into the dining room. Rufus hesitated before entering. “I am certain the woman knows who Dark Shadow is,” he said grimly. “Lord Ashford wants the traitor caught. He won’t care who I defile as long as it remains private. And I have no intention of letting a suspected smuggler stop me, regardless of whether she’s a highborn lady or not.”
The words fell easily but sat heavy on his shoulders.
This is not who you are,
a voice whispered inside his head.
This is not who you are,
a voice whispered inside his head.
He had a score to settle with his elusive enemy. Treason only headed the list of crimes. More personally galling was his father’s rumored betrayal to the French and his subsequent suspicious death. He hoped the spy was the key to the truth. The spy might have heard the truth about his father. Did he work for the French? Did he betray the French aristocrats to the Revolutionary council? Rufus did not believe it. Why would his father have done so? They certainly didn’t need the money.
Rufus would prove his late father’s innocence to the world with his dying breath if that’s what it took.
The dining room was empty. The men must have rejoined the ladies. They silently made their way to the drawing room.
Tomorrow could not come fast enough for Rufus. He had a smuggler to catch. Even so, he could not stop the thrill coursing through him at the thought of spending time in Miss Kerrich’s company.
He wondered what their meeting tomorrow would bring. If she was involved in treachery, her beauty would not save her.
Nothing would save her.
Chapter 9
U
pon rejoining the ladies, Rufus noted Rheda’s brother, the baron, had already left.
How annoying.
However, he was relieved to see Mildred and her dreadful mother Mrs. Rathborne had also departed.
pon rejoining the ladies, Rufus noted Rheda’s brother, the baron, had already left.
How annoying.
However, he was relieved to see Mildred and her dreadful mother Mrs. Rathborne had also departed.
Still, he would have liked to ply the baron with questions about his estate. How was he able to remain solvent? Lord de Winter’s answers would be most illuminating and perhaps would help ease his conscience. If Rheda was blameless of the crimes he suspected her of, and was in fact an innocent, there would be only one honorable course open to him if he was caught seducing her—marriage. That he prayed would not occur. He could not imagine Miss Kerrich sitting demurely at his family estate raising children and seeing to his household.
He smiled as an image of her dressed in male attire, speeding over his hills on a stallion, flittered into his mind. No she was no sedate young woman. Not suitable material for his future wife. But mistress ...
He twirled his father’s ring on his finger. His body hungered for her. Smuggling he could overlook, treason never. However, if she wasn’t party to treason, then perhaps he would make her his mistress. If the stories of her affair with the Turkish prince were true, she would be experienced enough to satisfy him. Her fiery spirit bode well for her appetite in bed—wild and wanton, he’d guess.
He accepted a glass of brandy from Christopher and sank into a comfortable chair across from him.
“Miss Kerrich is very beautiful, is she not?”
Did Christopher know he’d met with her this evening? Was he in on her plan? No. Christopher did not have the gumption for it.
“I have only met her briefly the other day, but yes, she is.” He raised a class in a silent toast. “You have not thought of making a match with her, given her brother’s financial situation ?”
“I’m hardly a catch, Rufus. I have proposed but to no avail.”
Christopher’s response stunned him and made him analyze his original deduction of Christopher’s and Rheda’s relationship.
Rufus blanched. “She refused you?” Why would a woman refuse an offer from a man like Christopher? It did not make sense. Given, he was nothing much to look at, but he was titled, extremely wealthy, and above all else—kind. A woman in Rheda’s financial predicament would normally have grabbed such an offer with two hands.
Christopher laughed. “Several times actually, although I have not asked in the past year. The first time I proposed was just after her father died. She was left at seventeen with massive debts and Daniel to raise. He was only eleven.”
Rufus’s mind somersaulted, debts—massive. “Perhaps she was scared of too much change so quickly.”
“Rheda scared? Unlike me, nothing frightens that woman. Her excuse was she had to keep Tumsbury Cliff safe for Daniel. I told her I would ensure it thrived, but she does not trust men easily. Given her father’s moral bankruptcy, I am not surprised.”
Christopher sat gazing into the fire, deep in thought. “I proposed again when she turned one and twenty. Daniel was fifteen by then and I thought quite capable of running the estate with an overseer. But again she declined.”
“Her reason?”
Christopher turned to look at him, resignation in his eyes. “She did not wish to ever marry and become any man’s property. Again, given her father’s example, I can’t say I blame her. The man was the worst sort of reprobate; brought whores into her home. It is little wonder Rheda has little faith in the male species.”
Rufus experienced a flicker of unease. He felt for Rheda. Her father had lived his life not caring what Society thought of him, while his father cared too much. He did not know which was worse for a child to bear. Honor before all else or no honor at all.
Christopher continued, misery evident in his tone. “Mother cannot understand why I have not been pressing my suit for the last few years.”
“You sell yourself short, old boy. You’d make a fine husband for Miss Kerrich. She would be lucky to have you.”
Christopher’s eyes became serious. “I don’t have your looks or silver tongue, but I shall get Daniel’s permission to marry her. Daniel is young and idealistic. He wants the family back into Society’s good graces. He has decided to elevate the good name of de Winter. A marriage to the Earl of Hale would be most advantageous. I’m simply biding my time until the right moment.”
Poor sod, he was smitten. Yet, Christopher was right. She was a surreal beauty. A beauty men would fight for, yet Rufus’s instincts told him Rheda was not for Christopher. Christopher could never handle such a passionate woman. She needed a firm hand. A hand that Rufus could provide. He shook his head. No, if she wasn’t for Christopher then she certainly wasn’t for him, a tarnished Strathmore. Rheda was most likely mixed up in smuggling and perhaps worse, espionage. The Strathmore name was stained, a mark he had worked his life to atone for.
Along with capturing the traitor for his king and country, there was only one way to redeem himself in Society’s eyes. He must marry a lady of impeccable character and breeding. A woman whose reputation was, above all, spotless.
From what he had discovered of Miss Kerrich’s reputation, it was covered in spots.
Feigning nonchalance, Rufus added, “I am surprised it has taken you this long, though. I would have thought with their financial situation, your offer would have been a godsend.”
Christopher’s manner changed immediately, and he eyed Rufus suspiciously. “I helped out where I could. I wanted to marry her, not put them in the poorhouse. With a little help the estate began to turn a profit.”
“How magnanimous of you. You could have married her a lot sooner if you had applied the right pressure. Without your support she would have had to come to you for help.”
Rufus could see the anger building in the man seated across from him. “I’m a gentleman. I didn’t want to take advantage of a young girl’s troubles.”
Rufus almost smiled at that ridiculous statement. He’d never known Christopher to keep a mistress. He’d never been a rake of any sort—freedom? Christopher was trying to hide something. Why was he protecting her?
Christopher rose to stand next to the fire and looked Rufus up and down. “You seemed to have developed an interest in Miss Kerrich.” Christopher’s gaze hardened. “I would hate to think that after years of standing by you, our families could fall out over a woman. My father stood by your mother upon your father’s death. Without our support your family would never have survived the scandal. My father made sure your father’s death was recorded as an accident.”
Rufus’s head snapped up. “Ensured? Are you saying it wasn’t an accident?”
Christopher coughed into his hand. “I am sorry, that was uncalled for. Yes, I was here when your father died, although I wasn’t on the hunt with them that morning. I had crawled into bed just before sunrise and wasn’t in any condition to hunt. I am not really sure what happened.” He shrugged. “It was a long time ago.”
Twelve long years actually, but it seemed like only yesterday to Rufus. His father, the man he had looked up to all his life had died. The rumor was Lord Strathmore shot himself after being caught selling the escape routes of the French aristocracy to the Revolutionary Council.
Lord Hale, Christopher’s father, ensured the shooting was recorded as an accident, and no charges were ever laid against his father, but the damage was done. Without the ability to defend himself, his father’s name had been dragged through the mud. The Strathmore family became social persona non grata.
Something in Christopher’s tone made Rufus think Christopher was lying. What was he hiding? “Then why bring it up?” Rufus asked lightly.
Christopher placed his glass of brandy carefully on the mantelpiece. “It was a reflex reaction. I have always considered Rheda mine. I’ve never had any competition, especially from a notorious rake like you. She has never been out of Deal and as such I have been able to wait for her with no other fitting suitors in sight. Your interest in her bothers me.”
The smile no longer reached Christopher’s eyes. Still, Rufus could not bring himself to give him everything he wanted. “What red-blooded male wouldn’t be interested? I’ve a mind to court her myself.” He could tell from Christopher’s stance exactly how he felt about his statement... Well, he couldn’t help that. It laid the groundwork for what was to come—the pretend courtship. Besides, Christopher was hiding something about his father’s death, of that he was certain. The key to manipulating a man was to have something he wanted. Miss Kerrich’s affections were worth cultivating simply for that, if not the smuggling. It seemed everywhere he turned, Miss Kerrich held the key to his past and his future.
He uncrossed his legs and swallowed. Using Miss Kerrich’s affections was not without some risk. He hardened at the thought of her soft curves and silken skin. His body burned for her touch. To feel her long, graceful legs gripping his hips ...
Rufus drained the remaining brandy from his glass. He knew what he had to do. Miss Kerrich was the lynchpin to succeeding in his quest. Not only might she help lead him to Dark Shadow, but she was the key to getting Christopher to reveal secrets of the past. Secrets that might help clear his father’s name.
Partnering with Miss Kerrich was not for the fainthearted. She held the power to ensnare a man’s heart. Rufus smiled into his empty glass remembering Marguerite’s betrayal. As he made to retire for the evening he mused there was nothing fainthearted about Viscount Strathmore, which Miss Kerrich would learn to her detriment.
The candle flickered and spluttered, almost at the end of its wick. It didn’t matter. The curtains weren’t drawn and dawn was fast approaching. Christopher, still fully dressed, stretched his arms above his head and yawned. Even he had to sleep sometime, and after the excitement he’d had that night, this morning he would indulge himself and sleep well into the afternoon.
He flexed his shoulders and once more picked up his quill. The secrets hidden in the night gave him plenty to write about. His journal used to record the sins confessed and his desires yet to be fulfilled.
His desires. He had plenty.
He’d followed Rufus, and he’d seen Rufus with Rheda in the field. The little minx was up to mischief again. It looked as though she’d decided to borrow Rufus’s fine stallion without his permission. Why wouldn’t she? Caesar was a magnificent beast.
One more sin the lady had to atone for. She’d sinned plenty over her short life. He’d recorded it all in his trusty journal. Recorded everything. He knew all her secrets, including the biggest secret of all. The one she didn’t want the world to know.
His journals recorded each and every indiscretion involving the people in this town, including his own. He’d been writing his journals all his life, and many would quake in fear if they knew what he had written here. They were his most treasured possession. Leverage to use when the time was right.
He smiled. Let the world continue to overlook him, just as Rheda had done. She thought him a fool, and that would be her mistake.
He’d smiled and reassured her that he did not believe the rumors of her and Prince Hammed, when in fact he’d stepped back to wait and see if she grew round with child before he set his plan into action. He clenched his fist in anger. He didn’t have to be the first, but by God he would be her last lover.
He knew he had to act soon. Rheda was a slut, and now that Rufus was here, she might take up with his friend as she had with the prince. Rufus was as magnificent as his stallion. Handsome beyond compare. Once Rufus left, Christopher did not want to have to wait months again to ensure she was childless before forcing her to be his bride. His mother was asking too many questions.
He’d been foolish to think that once her father died, Rheda would need his help to survive. Her damned smuggling operation had made it easy for her to decline his proposal.
He slammed his fist on the desk—decline him. An earl.
He clenched his teeth and gave a throaty laugh. Her smuggling would be her downfall. She would marry him or he’d see her and her brother transported to the colonies.
Soon she would not be able to overlook him. Soon he would have her right where he needed her.
Time was marching on. He was not getting any younger. His fortieth year was fast approaching, and his mother was demanding he marry.
He needed an heir. And he wanted Rheda to be the mother of his child. No other woman would do.
He closed his journal and stroked his hand lovingly over the leather. He didn’t care that she was a whore. Whores could be kept in their place. This book provided him with the power to own her soul and soon—very soon—he intended to use it.
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