Another young idiot joined the conversation. “Where have you been, man? Until this latest news about the Pirate Lord, Lady Juliet’s escapade was the tale of the season. The girl is damaged goods. Ran off with a bounder a couple of years ago who abandoned her after having his way with her. The family’s kept it quiet until now, but somebody got wind of it, and now everybody’s talking about it.”
Once again, guilt sliced through him. To think that he’d risked her reputation so horribly with his foolish actions! He’d never stop regretting it.
“I heard that it was a highwayman she ran off with,” the first young fool put in.
What the devil?
Another joined the conversation. “I heard it was an escaped murderer. And that she helped him escape.”
“You’ve all got it wrong,” a tall addlepate put in. “She met him in a tavern in Stratford. That’s where the Swanlea Spinsters live, you know, outside of Stratford.” He lowered his voice to a confidential murmur. “Anyway, she danced in her chemise on one of the tables, and that’s what brought it all about.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,” Sebastian snapped, unable to take another word of this. “Does she
look
like the sort to dance half naked on a table top? Has everyone in London completely lost their senses?”
“Appearances can be deceiving.” The nearest man nudged him and winked. His companions exchanged knowledgeable looks.
“Not that deceiving,” he snapped. “I’d wager a fortune that the young woman is as proper as any other lady in this room.”
“We all thought so, too, but we were wrong,” the man went on. “No, she’s secretly a wanton little miss just begging for a man between her legs. I daresay the only men who’ll dance with her now, other than chuckleheaded Havering, are the ones looking for a mistress.”
Blithering idiots! Sebastian saw so many colors of red, he thought he might explode. He wanted to tear out what lay between their legs. He wanted to strangle every one of them.
But if ever there was a time for control, it was now. Because this was his one chance to learn who’d been spreading the tales about her.
By some miracle, he choked down his rage. “Surely you can see how silly these tales are. They don’t even match. Highwaymen? Young ladies in taverns? Escaped murderers, for God’s sake? Someone is making it all up.”
“Now see here,” the one with the tale of the murderer protested, “it’s not so unlikely. That family of hers has quite the history. Knighton made his money in smuggled goods. And his brother-in-law, that Brennan fellow, is the son of a highwayman. The girl’s probably been exposed to the criminal element from the day her oldest sister got married. And there’s some question about her father, the earl, as well.”
He’d never considered any of this in his machinations two years ago. He’d thought only of his own circumstances, not how damning her personal history was. By kidnapping her, he’d cast fuel onto a fire primed to burn. Oh God, he was such a fool.
The man who’d first spoken shook his head stubbornly. “Well, I don’t know about these other fellows’ tales, but mine is the truth. I heard it from Langston who heard it directly from Montfort. And Montfort said his own source
was very reliable. It must be, for Montfort is too much the gentleman to say anything against a young lady unless he’s sure of his information.”
Every muscle in Sebastian’s body turned to stone. He should have suspected Montfort sooner. It was just the sort of thing that sly bastard would do.
“Well, that explains everything,” Sebastian retorted. “Montfort offered marriage to the lady, and she turned him down. So now he’s striking back at her any way he can.”
“How the devil do you know that, sir?” said one of the other men in a hostile tone. “I never heard of any offer, and who
are
you, anyway?”
“I’m Templemore. From Shropshire.”
The man’s eyes went wide, and his friends exchanged glances. One of them asked, “You’re old Templemore’s heir, Sebastian Blakely?”
Sebastian nodded tersely.
“The one who designs the pistols?” asked another man.
“The very one. I shoot them, too.” He leveled a hard stare on the lot of them. “And I’d like nothing better than to practice upon gentlemen who spread malicious lies about innocent young ladies without knowing the entire story.”
That shut the wagging tongues of most of them, but there was one brave soul who spoke up. “What do you know about it? You come in here from out of nowhere, make these claims, slur Montfort, then threaten us and—”
“You’re quite right. My quarrel is not with you ‘gentlemen.’ It’s with Montfort. Do any of you know where I might find him?”
They looked uneasy, but one of them finally offered, “I saw him headed toward the library with Knighton a few moments ago. It seems you’re not the only one to take issue with his tales.”
Devil take it, Knighton would only make matters worse. “Where’s the library?”
They pointed him in the right direction, and he hastened toward it. As he skirted the ballroom, he watched Juliet more closely, cringing to see the forced smiles she bestowed on her partner. When the dance ended and Havering led her off the floor, Sebastian noticed how women clustered together to whisper when she passed. How the young gentlemen felt free to look her over with a detestable impudence that had him swearing under his breath.
His hands clenched into fists. By thunder, he’d brought her to this with his blindness. But he’d never expected his carefully controlled actions to run so completely amok. He’d never meant to hurt her, to ruin her life with such utter finality.
He gritted his teeth. It hardly mattered what he’d meant. This was the result. And he’d even made light of her worries to her face! How cruel could a man be? Well, no more. If he did nothing else, he’d take care of this ridiculous gossip. Though he knew he could never squelch it entirely, he could certainly reduce its effects.
Dancing in her chemise in a tavern, for God’s sake! He’d have Montfort dancing on the point of his sword for this, he would.
He found the library easily, since the sound of raised voices floated halfway down the hall from it. Hesitating outside, he wondered if he should wait until Knighton had said his piece. Then he noticed the door that opened into the adjoining room. Ducking inside, he was pleased to discover that the door connecting the two rooms had been left open.
Prepared to jump in if he had to, he inched nearer the open doorway.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Montfort’s usual Eton clip sounded dulled by drink. “Why should I bother to gossip about your sister-in-law?”
“You know why!” Knighton bellowed. “Because she spurned you!”
Sebastian stifled a groan. The man was about as tactful as a cannon.
“I wouldn’t trouble myself over any chit stupid enough to refuse my offer of marriage,” Montfort said with a faint slur. “And I certainly have no reason to seek revenge. I can have any woman I want.”
“Perhaps so, but I
know
you started these rumors.”
“How d’you know that?”
“I had a letter from Daniel Brennan, my brother-in-law.”
“Ah, the good Mr. Brennan.” There came the sound of a glass clinking. “And what did your highwayman’s bastard of a brother-in-law say about me?”
Montfort might be a bit foxed, but he was baiting Knighton most effectively. Still, Sebastian held back, wanting to hear Knighton’s proof.
“Daniel says you saw Helena in London two years ago when she was supposed to be in Warwickshire, and you accosted her at a ball over the matter. She kept quiet about it, not wanting to cause trouble for you—”
“What drivel!” Montfort exclaimed with a laugh. “She kept quiet about it, because she didn’t want any of you to know she’d let the cat out of the bag.”
“What cat? You mean this nonsense you’ve been spreading about Juliet running off with a man?”
More clinking glass. “Really, Knighton, you should give up the pretense. I know the truth. After Juliet refused my suit, I hired a man to learn precisely where your two sisters-in-law were when they claimed to be home in Warwickshire. Learned all about Juliet’s little trip down to Sussex with some fellow named Morgan. So don’t try to lie. I know darling Juliet isn’t as pure as she seems.”
Sebastian barely restrained himself from leaping into the next room to throttle Montfort. The one that truly deserved throttling was himself. What had he been thinking? Montfort was a shark, but many more like him swam in society. If Sebastian had taken a moment to think about
anyone but himself, he’d have realized how precarious a situation he was placing her in when he kidnapped her.
“So you
are
the one spreading the rumors,” Knighton bit out.
“Not rumors. Truth. I’m merely providing a service to society. I’d hate to see anyone make assumptions about your sister-in-law when I know what she really is.”
“You blackguard!” Knighton growled. “I’ll see you at dawn for this—”
“I don’t think so. If you fight me, that’ll confirm the rumors, and she’ll be even worse off. Besides, even if you manage to kill me, which is highly uncertain, you’d have to flee England, abandon your business to managers, and leave your family to fend without you. Or take them off to an uncertain existence on the Continent. And that’s only if you win. You might not win. Then I should dearly love to comfort your poor, grieving sister-in-law.”
Sebastian’s blood ran cold at the thought.
“You blackhearted devil, I will ruin you!” Knighton cried. “I’ll see that your name is dragged through the mud—”
“You’re welcome to try. But mine is an old and venerable family, sir, while yours is rife with scandal. If you drag my name through the mud, I’ll emerge unscathed. I doubt I can say the same for you.”
There was a long, tense silence. “So you mean to ruin her, a woman who never did anything more than refuse your offer of marriage.”
“She won’t refuse it for long. Not when no one else will have her.”
“If you think I’d ever let her marry you after this—”
“You say that now.” There was a pause and more tinkling of glass. “But you may decide otherwise after seeing how society treats her and the rest of you.”
Sebastian stood there stunned. All this, only to force Juliet to marry him? Had Montfort lost his blasted mind?
“This isn’t over yet,” Knighton growled. “You won’t get away with this. I’ll find a way to stop you, depend on it.”
Montfort merely chuckled in response. As Knighton apparently left, slamming the outer door to the library behind him, Montfort called out, “Good luck trying to stop
me
, you bastard!”
Smoothing his features into a semblance of nonchalance, Sebastian strolled through the adjoining door into the library. “One overhears such interesting things at these affairs,” he commented, taking grim pleasure from the way Montfort cursed and dropped the bottle he was holding. With a thud, it fell onto the desk he sat behind.
Then Montfort saw who’d entered and relaxed. “Well, I’ll be damned, if it isn’t Templemore.” He poured wine out of the half-empty bottle into a glass, then held up the bottle. “Want a drink, old fellow? Feathering probably has another glass around here somewhere…” He rose to amble about the room in search of one.
“Thank you, but no,” Sebastian said to halt his stumbling. What he truly wanted was to cram the bottle down Montfort’s throat until the fair-haired demon’s effeminate features turned purple.
But before he showed his hand, he must determine Montfort’s purpose and how far the man would go. It was always wise to know one’s enemy.
Montfort swigged some wine. “Good Lord, man, how long has it been since we saw each other? A year? Two?”
“Two at least. The last time I was in London.”
Leaning unsteadily against a bookcase, Montfort took out a quizzing glass and looked Sebastian over. “I thought you were moldering out at that country estate of yours.”
“I needed a change.” Sebastian propped one hip against the edge of the desk and crossed his arms. “I came to Feathering’s hoping for excitement. So your little contretemps with Knighton amused me enormously.”
A smug smile spread over Montfort’s face. “You heard all that, did you?” He lifted his glass as if toasting himself. “I daresay Knighton’ll think twice before tangling with me again.”
“No doubt. Though I’m surprised you’re going to so much trouble for a woman, and a respectable one at that, from what I hear. Spreading rumors and such—she must be quite the beauty if you’d risk Knighton’s wrath to gain her in marriage.”
Montfort dropped the quizzing glass. “She is, but it’s not really that.” He drained his glass, then set it down hard on a shelf. “It’s the principle of the thing, y’see. I’ve never offered marriage to anyone before. Figured I had a few more years to get leg-shackled. But then I met her and decided she’d do splendidly. Sweet and young and malleable.” He shook his head. “Or so I thought. I was sure she’d be easy to mold to my tastes, which, as you know, are…sophisticated.” He winked at Sebastian.
Only with difficulty did Sebastian suppress a shudder. “Is that what they call it these days when a man likes to use a crop on unwilling bed companions?” Even at fourteen, Montfort’s tastes had shocked the denizens of Llanbrooke. While in Shropshire, he’d never bothered to hide them as he had in London. But then, he’d held the “provincials” in complete contempt.
“So you’re still the prig you were in our youth.” Montfort shrugged. “Must say I’m surprised. Given your father’s wild streak, I’d have expected you to develop some sophisticated tastes of your own by now.”
“Alas, I’m still as temperate in my tastes as ever. I dislike props in lovemaking.”
“But props truly add to the excitement, y’know, and temperate is so dull.” He waved the bottle in the air. “While you’re in town this time, I’ll have to introduce you to London’s more exotic pleasures.”
Sebastian gritted his teeth. “I’ll consider it. But you were telling me about this woman who refused to marry you. Knighton seems determined to keep her from you.”
Montfort’s blond brows lowered in a petulant frown. “Foolish bastard. But he’ll change his tune when nobody else of consequence is willing to marry her.” An indolent smile touched his lips. “I actually find her youthful indiscretion an inducement to marriage.”