Only Scandal Will Do (13 page)

“And just what do you know about it?”

“I saw you.”

“What!” Her mouth dropped open, heat racing through her body. “You did not!”

“I most certainly did.”

“You couldn’t have been there, Jack. You were here, unconscious when he tried to force me–”

Dalbury’s hand on her wrist brought her up short.

“What are you talking about?” Jack asked, his words terse. His face was ashen. “I saw you and the marquess kissing in the garden last night. I said nothing then because I hoped you might consider him reason enough to stay here in London. Now Dalbury tells me he offered you marriage and you turned him down. That is why he is here, to offer for you again.” Jack switched his attention from the marquess to fix her with a frigid blue gaze. “Do you mean to say he accosted you that night in March?”

Stricken, she could only stare at her brother. At last she answered, “Yes, Jack,” very low. Her lips trembled and she cursed that weakness inwardly. She swung around on Dalbury, tensed and seething. “Is this why you came here? To tell him what happened? To try to trap me into a marriage I do not want? Well you are mistaken, my lord. I don’t care who knows what you did. I will not marry you no matter what. What say you to that?”

Dalbury stared down at her and said simply, “I love you.”

She shivered at his words. Her hand flew to her mouth and a gasp escaped at his wicked lie. She lashed out. A handprint appeared on his face. Then she turned and fled the room before he could say anything else.

“Kat! Kat, come back here.”

She could hear Jack calling her, but paid him no heed. Lifting her skirts, she raced up the stairs and into her room, slammed the door and locked it. With her back pressed against the wood, she sobbed aloud, kicking the oak panel with her heel in frustration as her life spiraled out of control. This was the nightmare she’d feared for the past three weeks.

Footsteps sounded outside the door. “Kat. Let me in, please.”

“Go away, Jack.”

“We have to talk. And I don’t want to have to shout through this door.”

“I have nothing to say to you or to him. Ever.”

“Katarina. Listen to me.” Her brother forced his voice into a calm, soothing tone. Much good it would do him. “You have to tell me what happened. I know what you told me before, but... Damn it, what you said just now, what you almost said. He was in that room with you, wasn’t he?”

The back of her head thudded against the door as she stared at the ceiling and huffed out a sigh, attempting to temper her anger. “I am not discussing this with you, Jack. I am leaving for Virginia as planned. Whatever he told you, whatever you think happened, I do not care. I am going home, do you hear? I cannot marry that man!”

“You may not have a choice, Kat. I must act in your best interests and there is no guarantee Amiable Dawson will take you if it gets out you have been ruined. Hell, you were compromised just from what I saw last night in the garden. And if what you said is true...” He trailed off, as though he could not bring himself to continue the thought.

“Jack,” she sobbed again, laying her hand flat against the door. A poor substitute for the comfort of his shoulder. “Jack, please.”

“He’s trying to do the right thing, Kat. You should be grateful.” His tone held more than a little reproach.

“Grateful!” She twisted the key and flung the door open.

Jack jumped back with a startled, frightened look.

“Grateful to the wretch who ruined me? If he had believed me, or helped me, or been a true gentleman that night, then perhaps I would feel differently.” She scowled until her face ached with the strain. She stalked toward Jack, who retreated to the opposite side of the corridor. “But all he wanted was to slake his lust with me. And you want to help tie me to him for life in my own best interest? Then God save me from you, too!” She turned on her heel and stormed into her room, slamming the door in his face.

His footsteps retreated. She threw herself down in the chair, head in her hands. Jack would undoubtedly side with Dalbury. For honor. Well, honor be damned. Where was their honor on that cold night in March? Memories she tried to deny, tried to forget, assailed her now. Her body pressed against the marquess, his mouth on hers, her tongue in...

She had to get away. If she could get on board the
Constanza
and barricade herself in the cabin, the ship would sail regardless of what either her brother or the marquess did. But she must go now. Before they thought to restrain her. She hoped Peter had already taken her trunks to the dock, but if not she must go as she was.

She rose, fashioning a plan as she donned cloak and hat. Money. Her reticule held a goodly sum she was taking with her. That was providential, for she assumed Jack would now send no more to her.

Stopping in the middle of the room, she shook with fury at her brother’s betrayal. She would not soon forget or forgive this treachery. That could be left for later. Think. What else did she need?

Clothing. She had the gown she stood in and her traveling clothes. Dare she take the time to change? Should she take them with her? But how? And everything else was in those blasted trunks. Instinct said not to risk it. She would simply have to make do.

Cautiously, she opened the door and listened to the household. Nothing. She eased her way toward the staircase, hesitant to move boldly in case someone approached. The house was eerily quiet for this time of day. As she made it to the bottom of the stairs, the murmur of voices came to her from the receiving room.

Damn Jack! He was still in there with Dalbury. Undoubtedly laying plans for her wedding. Well, they could come to the colonies if they wanted to hear her vows. But they’d be weeks too late, pray God.

On swift, silent feet, Kat glided across the rose medallion of the Aubusson carpet in the hallway. She opened the front door carefully and eased it closed behind her, shuddering at the click of the lock. She should be able to find a hackney in the next street over that would take her to the docks.

Once out of sight of the house, she slowed her pace so as to not draw attention, and when she entered a carriage for hire in Martin’s Square, no one looked twice. The driver gave a toss of the reins, and soon was lost in the press of vehicles that roamed the crowded streets of London.

Chapter 11

Duncan stood before the window, staring into the bright sunshine at a small garden without seeing it. Turning when he heard the door close, he steeled himself for the confrontation with the now stern-faced young man. He set his face in what he hoped were neutral features, much as he would when facing an adversary in a duel. Pray God it did not come to that. “Did Lady Katarina tell you what happened that night, Lord Manning?” Strike first as an offensive measure.

The earl’s expression remained stony. “She did not give particulars, except to say you ruined her. Do you deny this happened, Dalbury?”

Duncan took a breath. “Not in the least.”

“By God, sir! I shall meet you–”

“Lord Manning! I beg you to hear me out before issuing your challenge. Though I deserve nothing less, and will be glad to oblige you, first listen to what occurred that night. I make no excuses, but I would have you know I did not act willfully to compromise your sister.”

Lord Manning resumed his place on the sofa, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

Duncan sat in Katarina’s chair, savoring the faint smell of jasmine that lingered in the place. With regret, he turned his attention to the tale and with little embellishment related to Katarina’s brother the events that led up to his bidding on his sister. Manning’s face paled, but he made no sound as Duncan recounted their spirited exchange.

“She fought me, gave me this memento.” He gestured to the still rough scars on his cheek. “Then hit me over the head and escaped. I would never have treated her thus, but I thought her just another one of...” He ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, I did not mean for any of this to happen. If your coach had not been waylaid and I had not gone to Madam Vestry’s, this courtship would have been much easier to conduct.”

The earl regarded him with a dubious frown. “You would have offered for Kat even if you were not bound by honor?”

Duncan nodded, unabashed. “Not only is she beautiful, Manning, but she is a spirited girl. I find that refreshing after so many simpering misses who have no thought past their next ball gown. I daresay Lady Katarina is more interested in the next hunt she will attend rather than the next ball.”

Manning laughed, grudgingly. “She grew up with me and my pastimes in the wilds of Virginia. She could use a bit of polish, perhaps.”

“She is perfect as she is.”

The earl whistled, leaned back in his seat and grinned. “You
are
smitten, Dalbury. Kat perfect? You might as well say the moon is constant.” He raised his eyebrows, appraising him. “So what you declared to her was truth?”

Duncan glanced away, caught without a satisfactory answer. “I don’t quite know why those words slipped out, whether I was trying to convince her or myself. I am not well schooled in the ways of ordinary courtship.” He massaged his temple in an attempt to ward off the headache he knew would come. “The scandals last year dropped me from everyone’s most eligible list.”

“What scandals?”

“It started, of course, with the Earl of Ferrers. In January of 1760, Ferrers shot his steward, who later died of his wounds. The death was ruled murder, the earl stood trial, and despite a plea of insanity, was convicted and condemned to hang.”

“And was he insane?”

Duncan drew in a deep breath. “There is other insanity in his family, yes. But the earl denied his own madness after the conviction, stating he used the defense at his family’s insistence. Unfortunately, there is a family connection with the Shirleys, though only by marriage. That was enough, however, for several disreputable men to take it into their heads to slander my sister with insinuations of insanity.” Duncan pinned the earl with his stare. “It was my duty to challenge them, make them retract their statements.”

“And did they?”

“The four who lived did. The two I killed were assumed to be liars.”

Manning’s eyes widened, but he said nothing.

After a moment Duncan shrugged and said, “And the final straw, my liaison with Madame Vestry, who had quietly been my mistress for two years, was suddenly and inexplicably made very public. Rumors also surfaced that I owned part interest in her establishment. I dropped her immediately but the scandals ran rampant through the
ton
last season, to the point that I set out for Italy and sent my sister Juliet north to stay with our father’s family.”

“Why have you told me this? Trying to make yourself unappealing as an in-law?” Manning’s position and tone were relaxed, but Duncan sensed the younger man’s underlying pique.

“Not exactly. But I wanted you to know that if your sister agrees to marry me, she will not be marrying into a family with a blameless name.”

The earl waved dismissively. “What Ferrers did, that you were a better duelist than several dishonorable men, and your personal appetites do not concern me.” Manning leaned forward, the anxious brother surfacing. “What does concern me are your feelings toward my sister. She is adamant in her dislike of you.” He peered at Duncan. “And it seems with good cause. I know you mean to act with honor in this matter, but if that is the only reason for your offer, I fear I must decline and renew my challenge. I will not doom my sister to marriage with a man who does not respect her, just for the sake of honor. I’ll send her to Virginia first.”

Uncomfortable under the earl’s scrutiny, he shifted in his chair. “I can truthfully say that what I feel for your sister is…is...” Damn. He could not lay such a declaration baldly before the earl. Sitting upright, trying not to squirm, he tried again. “My feelings for her are...”

He jumped up from the velvet seat as though it had gone up in flames. “By God, Manning! All I can say is, the thought of her sailing to Virginia to marry Dawson fills me with a rage I have scarcely ever known before.” He clenched his fist at the thought. He stared directly into Manning’s face and spoke plainly. “I want her for my wife, Manning. Whatever it takes.”

The earl sat back in his chair, a doubtful look on his face. “Easier said than done, to get her to agree to marry you, Dalbury,” he admitted. “She will be unwilling at best, belligerent at worst.”

“Does she not understand the risk she runs if word gets out? Having experienced such things first hand, I assure you the
ton
is anything but forgiving. Not only would she be shunned, but you will be tarred with the same brush as well.”

At Manning’s quizzical look, Duncan lost patience. “For God’s sake, she was sold to me from the auction block of a whorehouse! In everyone’s eyes, that makes her a whore. Do you think either of you would be received into a single respectable home if they knew?”

Relief flooded him when Manning’s face drained to a pasty white and he gripped the woodwork arm of the sofa. At last, perhaps, the man understood what was at stake here. He gave the earl a moment to adjust to this new perspective then asked, “Will you ask her to speak with me now? Perhaps if we could spend some time together she would come to see that I am not the rogue she believes me to be. If I could court her properly...if she would give me even a month to prove myself to her, perhaps I could change her opinion of me.” Though appalled at the pleading tone in his voice, he could not stop himself.