Once Upon a Scandal (15 page)

Perhaps it was a sin, this newfound awareness of her physical desires. A niggling corner of her conscience said so, and no doubt a minister would agree. But she refused to feel guilty. Something that felt so wonderful could not be sinful. And even if it was a convenient excuse, one which had certainly led more than one woman down Mr. Shakespeare’s primrose path, she didn’t care. She was sitting on a rooftop in Surrey, a breeze threading her hair, wonderstruck by an undeniable fact. Benjamin Alden had wanted to kiss her. She’d dared before to pretend it, but her body understood now.

And the knowledge that she could make his eyes darken with desire, make his body harden, and turn his breath shallow was a powerful thing. She would never recover from the surprise of it. If she gained nothing else from this mad decision she’d made, she would always have that kiss.

Perhaps if she asked nicely, she’d have more than one.

• • •

“What did you do, Marworth?” Sophia asked idly as she approached a sideboard laden with an assortment of liqueurs.

“No more than you asked me to,” he bit out, retreating behind a settee. “It was a damned bad idea.”

“Such language,” she said, smiling as she surveyed the offerings. “You are rarely so impolite. If I didn’t suspect an underlying turmoil, I might even be offended.”

“I should never have kissed her. We are linked together because of this scheme and for no other reason.”

“Be honest with yourself,” she replied, turning towards him, arching a single brow. “You were nearly begging for the opportunity.”

“I’m a man, like any other. And Jane is beautiful.” How easily he made excuses. Both things were true, but he was beginning to realize neither scratched the surface of his motivations. Not that he would tell Sophia that. “As Lillianne,” he admitted, “she’s a marvel. You’ve done wonders.”

“Now you disappoint me. She was a marvel long before her latest incarnation. How you didn’t see it, I don’t know.”

“Of course I saw it.” A punishing tension was building at his temples. “My regrettable attraction has been brewing for some time.”

“Why regrettable?” she asked, breaking into another smile, one that grated.

“This is no fairy tale, Sophia. Jane and I will say our goodbyes when this is done. Her future will be secure, and I will go back to flirting with talkative wives and listening at keyholes.” It was an honest enough assessment of his talents. Spy indeed. Imposter was far more appropriate. No matter how hard he tried to honor Aiden’s memory, the better Alden son was dead in the ground. And here at Painshill, Benjamin could not escape that awful reminder. He could not allow any woman to make him forget the promise he’d made to himself.

“How is Jane’s future secure?” Sophia asked, interrupting his thoughts. “Certainly, she’ll be financially compensated, but what then? She can hardly return to her house on Curzon Street. She can hardly return to herself.”

“She will have a new life,” he replied, ignoring a now familiar guilt. “She can resettle where she wishes, safe from the attentions of bastards like Rempley.”

“Sir Aldus Rempley? What does he have to do with any of this?

“Suffice it to say he made her a disgraceful offer the day of her father’s funeral. And there’s a chance he’s involved in the information stolen just before Fitzsimmons’s death.”

“I had little enough love for Lord Fitzsimmons,” Sophia replied, pouring herself a glass of brandy. “His pride nearly cost my niece her reputation, and in the end, he practically abandoned Jane. But Rempley … Now there is a man I thoroughly dislike.”

“So do I, but at Whitehall, his reputation is impeccable. And I’ve yet to hear anything disparaging in Society.”

“That’s because there are some things women only speak of among themselves.”

His pulse quickened with suspicion. “Pretend I’m a woman, then.”

“Rempley was on the town when I made my debut. Quite handsome actually, with a full head of bright hair, no obvious physical flaws, and a sizable fortune. But he was a man to be avoided.” Sophia paused for a long moment, swirling the brandy in her glass. “Back then, you see, behavior was far less constrained. We were occasionally indiscreet, but we all knew which lines could not be crossed. We counted on the men to respect them. Rempley was not one to stop when he was asked.”

A predator then. As if Benjamin had needed another reason to despise him.

Be not afraid of the bitterness of reproach, or the bluntness of incivility. If anything should appear harsh, be assured it proceeds from real regard.—
Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women

Benjamin had not joined them last night for dinner, nor had he been in evidence thus far today. According to Sophia, he was locked away in his study, preparing for their journey to London in the morning. And if Jane worried he was purposefully avoiding her, in truth, the entire household was busy. Under Banning’s supervision, several housemaids were repacking Lillianne’s enormous wardrobe, pairing hats, gloves, and shoes with each ensemble. Meanwhile, Oakley was packing her own personal items and saying her goodbyes to Arthur. For as long as this took, she would serve as Lillianne’s lady’s maid in London, with the excuse that Madame Fauchon’s had fallen ill on the journey across the Channel.

Really, there was little left for Jane to do. She was as ready as she would ever be. But she was restless. And given the alternative—that of worrying holes in her skirts with nervous energy—she decided to explore the grounds surrounding Painshill Park. It was perhaps the last chance she’d have to do so, and the afternoon was a beautiful one, a southerly wind slipping through the trees.

And so she walked. Along pathways lined with carefully cultivated blooms. Past a ruined abbey and a temple dedicated to Bacchus, if the statue inside was anything to go by. There was also a gothic tower, artistically crumbling to give it an air of authenticity, and some sort of Turkish-style pavilion. According to Banning, Benjamin’s father had overseen the design of the park, inspired by his travels during a grand tour of Europe and beyond. Glimpsing a white structure through a copse of yew and birch trees, she followed the path towards it, only to find herself at the edge of Painshill’s lake, at the base of a footbridge. The manor house looked down from a hill in the distance.

Up close, the lake was larger than she’d realized—perhaps two hundred feet at its widest point, although the bridge before her spanned a narrow inlet. Set amidst flowering shrubs and fringed by cedar trees, it was beautiful, with sunlight dancing on its surface. Which somehow did not seem fair, given what had happened here. By rights, it should be a dark and frightening place, with a perpetual thundercloud fixed overhead.

She crossed onto the bridge. It was a pretty thing, with arched supports below and pillars linking open fretwork panels, but two people could not walk along it side by side. As her footsteps echoed on the wooden beams, a family of geese swam past, and she paused, peering over the railing to watch their progress. How clear the lake was, almost crystalline. Her own reflection stared back at her, soft around the edges, the sky all around.

She was almost tempted to linger here, drinking in the quiet. Certainly, there was little enough of it ahead of her, when she, as an imposter, would rejoin the Society into which she’d been born. But even the rushes in the water and the gulls above could not mask what had once been a scene of immense pain.

Two small boys had been drawn here on a hot summer’s day. And how frightened they must have been as their boat sank beneath them, and they struggled to keep their heads above the water. She felt sick at the thought of it, at the anguish Benjamin must have endured. Even now, one could see glimpses of it during unguarded moments, in the set of his jaw, and in the faint creases at the corners of his eyes. If she could, she would spare him the burden of it. She would take it upon her shoulders.

Which was a sure sign she’d come to care for him far more than was prudent. Because any future she might imagine between them was nothing short of fantasy. If she was not careful, he would steal her heart, along with her senses.

But then again, maybe her future was here and now. After all, she no longer had a reputation to protect or even a position in Society to maintain. What else was temptation, if not the chance at a memory to warm the soul when one was old and grey?

Turning away from the water, she hurried across the remainder of the bridge, relieved when her slippers were once more on solid ground. With just a few more steps, her view of the large, limestone manor house was unobscured. Long wings on either side met in a curved center bay, framed by an expansive portico with Doric columns and circular steps that led down to the lawn. Her eyes swept to the tall casement window of Benjamin’s study. It lay just to the right of the portico, and if she’d looked just a moment later, she’d have missed it. A figure stepping back into the shadows, vanishing behind a swiftly drawn curtain.

How very curious.

There was every chance, of course, that it had been Maybanks closing the drapes against the afternoon sun. But she didn’t think so. Had Benjamin been watching her steady approach from the lake? Had he been embarrassed to be caught spying? Before she could second-guess herself, she decided to find out.

• • •

Caught in the act, peering at her from behind the curtain like a randy schoolboy. He turned from the window in disgust, wishing he had simply waved and looked away. As if that were such an easy proposition. His cravat suddenly felt too tight, and he pulled it off with a vicious tug. He was alone in a darkened room, after all. No one was here to witness the lapse.

He had been avoiding her, of course, and would continue to do so, keeping their interactions as limited as possible. It had proved a successful technique in the past whenever he’d been tempted to explore anything beyond a sexual attraction to a woman. Emotional entanglements were to be avoided at all costs. He could no longer allow this untenable preoccupation to continue.

But when he’d caught a glimpse of her from his study, he’d been unable to resist the pleasure of watching her unawares. She’d chosen an old gown, one better suited to a walk than anything in Lillianne’s wardrobe. Not that it had done anything to diminish her beauty. If anything, it had enhanced it, the skirts sweeping about her long legs as she came up the hill, outlining their shape and the smooth movement of her hips.

What was it about her? He’d known women who were prettier. Certainly, he’d known many who were far more sophisticated. One kiss did not make her any less of an innocent, after all. And her starchy demeanor had put off many a man in Society. What fools they all were, himself the biggest of all, not to have seen it. She wore a mask just as he did, hiding a passionate nature, an unconscious sensuality, and a body to tempt the saints. Potent lures, made all the more dangerous because she was fiercely loyal and brave and honest. Hardly for the likes of him.

He returned to his desk, settling into the tufted leather chair that had once been his father’s. Was it his imagination that the scent clung to it still? Bay leaf and spice and cigar smoke. Once so familiar and comforting, instead of rank with anger and regret. A reminder that his focus must be unchanged and that wants were not needs, no matter how acute the temptation.

If only this could get underway so it could be done. His eyes fell to the files on his desk. Had he planned for every contingency? They would leave separately in the morning, Jane and Oakley taking the longer journey by linking up with the Dover road and traveling into London from the east. Meanwhile, he and the countess would approach the city from the southwest, traveling directly to Grillion’s. They would be the first on hand to greet Lillianne Fauchon, having noted her impending arrival in the social papers.

No longer would she be under his roof or under his direct protection. And it was safer that way, because of the distance it would put between them. Maybe then he wouldn’t spend another night like the one that had just passed, when he’d lain awake, stiff with desire, wondering if she, too, was remembering their kiss.

He put his hands to his temples, rubbing them to the point of pain in order to distract his thoughts. Obviously, he’d gone too long without a visit to his mistress, Claudette. She’d sent several notes over the last few weeks, begging him to call, wondering what she’d done wrong. The fault lay with him, because he’d been worried for the first time that he would call out the wrong name in the throes of passion. And wouldn’t that shred his reputation to pieces. Not to mention the embarrassment it would cause Claudette.

A soft knock sounded at the door, probably one of the footmen because it was nearly time for afternoon tea. He bore an invitation, no doubt, from the countess and Jane to join them. Benjamin would refuse politely. One must begin as one meant to go on. Or, in his case, begin again. “You may come in,” he called out.

The door creaked open, and he knew in that instant it was not a footman. The scent of lemon verbena was unmistakable. He shot to his feet and braced his hands on the desk.

“I saw you in the window,” Jane said as she entered the room. The color in her cheeks was probably due to the walk she’d just finished, rather than any embarrassment she might have about the awkward new tenor of their relationship.

“I saw you as well,” he replied, gesturing towards the curtains. “That bridge is sturdy, but the lake is deeper than it looks. And the geese can be rather fearsome. I wanted to make sure you returned to the house safely.”

“Fearsome geese, you say?” An impish smile implied she didn’t quite believe his excuse. “I’m afraid they need elbows to be truly intimidating.”

“Elbows?” Had he missed something?

“If you’ve ever seen Lady Tremayne in line at a midnight supper, you’ll understand what I mean.”

“Point scored,” he acknowledged, resisting the urge to grin. “Perhaps they’re less frightening than I led on. So you were touring the grounds? Were you on the abbey path?”

“I must have been. At least, I saw an abbey along the way. Your property is remarkable.”