Ripe for Scandal (10 page)

“I said get inside.” Leo’s words were clipped, enunciated with awful precision. “If you choose to make me drag you there,
so be it. But one way or another, you’ll do as I say, Boudicea.”

“Fine,” she spat out, bracing herself.

When she didn’t move, she could see the realization dawn on her brother’s face that she meant
fine, drag me
, not
fine, I’ll do as you say
. One side of her mouth quirked up. She couldn’t help it. It was fine if he dragged her, but she’d be damned if she gave up
and let Leo order her about. And she wouldn’t stand by and let him punish his friend for something that she’d done.

Leo closed the gap between them and caught her by the wrist. Two steps, her heels leaving furrows in the damp earth of the
yard, and they came to a halt as Sandison placed himself between them and the inn.

Tousled, bloody, his coat ripped and muddy—he still looked like a hero. Her hero.

“Let go of her,” Sandison said in a tone that seemed
designed to provoke her brother into retaliation, just as her smile had been. Leo’s grip tightened. Beau bumped against him,
jostling him, forcing him to look at her and not at his friend.

Leo glared down at her. Beau searched his face. No tenderness. No forgiveness. She put her free hand on his chest. She had
to make him understand. “Please, Leo. Just listen to me for a moment. One moment—” The clatter of hooves and the jingle of
harness cut her off.

Beau stood frozen in place as her family’s second best coach rolled into the yard, Sampson on the box, her footman Boaz beside
him. Glennalmond leapt out before it came to a full stop. Leo shook his head, his expression hardening, and tossed her to
their elder brother. Glennalmond caught her and held her tight, one massive arm locked about her waist.

“Take her to Dyrham,” Leo said, not even looking at her. “If you drive all night, you should get there by morning. I’ll follow
when I’m done here.”

Gareth checked his teeth with his tongue and spat. The coppery tang of blood remained. At least his nose didn’t appear to
be broken. Not yet, anyway.

The Vaughn family’s servants stared down from the box of the coach, expressions as grim and unrelenting as their masters’.
Beau’s personal footman was fingering the blunderbuss in his hands as though he’d love to be given permission to use it.

Glennalmond was gesticulating widely with his one free hand, pointing repeatedly at Gareth. Leo was arguing back, his voice
low enough that Gareth couldn’t quite
make out the words. He didn’t need to. They were clearly arguing over which one of them got to kill him. Did being the eldest
trump being the best friend of the villain?

Gareth choked down an utterly inappropriate laugh. This was one argument that Leo wasn’t going to lose, and that was for the
best. He’d be tempted to defend himself against Glennalmond, and he deserved what was coming.

If Beau had been his sister, he’d have wanted to kill him too. Leo turned, said something to Beau inside the coach, and then
Glennalmond climbed in and slammed the door shut behind him. Leo nodded at the coachman and the carriage slowly turned about,
circling him, the armed footman glaring at him under his powdered wig the entire time.

The scene was unfolding with all the absurdity of a staged farce. The thwarted lovers. The avenging brothers. The ever-present
witnessing chorus of servants. The entire benighted cast was present and playing their roles to the hilt. Except perhaps for
Beau, who clearly had no intention of being the quaking
ingénue
. If his world weren’t caving in around his ears, it would have been damn funny.

Leo stood, still as a monolith, and watched until his siblings disappeared around a bend in the road. Once they were gone,
he turned slowly back to face Gareth.

The silence stretched. Excuses swarmed Gareth’s head. He opened his mouth and then shut it with an audible snap of teeth.
What was there to say? No excuse was good enough. Even the truth wouldn’t wipe the look of betrayal from Leo’s face. And the
whole truth—a true confession of his motives—would make things far, far worse.

“If you were anyone else,” Leo said, “I’d kill you where you stand, Beau’s reputation be damned.”

Gareth nodded, not quite sure where that left them. Leo’s expression was bleak. There would be no forgiveness, whatever the
outcome.

“I’ve no doubt you can explain how it’s all Beau’s fault,” Leo said with a hint of bitterness. “I’m sure this escapade happened
by her express design—when did anything not?—but no matter what you have to say, it will merely be an
excuse
. She’s my sister, Sandison. My baby sister. And I left her in your care.”

“And I failed you both, but I swear to you, I didn’t abduct her.”

Leo shut his eyes for a moment, shaking his head. “When the girl is willing, or God forbid, actually complicit, it’s usually
called an elopement. I’ll grant you that much. No, don’t say another word. You can save your explanations for my parents.
I don’t think I can stomach to hear them.”

Sandison swallowed down the urge to defend himself, to defend Beau. “Are your parents in London?”

“I imagine they’ll be joining Beau at Dyrham as soon as Glennalmond’s note reaches them. I’d advise you to do the same. Two
days, Sandison. In two days, you’d best be at Dyrham, or I’ll hunt you down and shoot you on sight.”

CHAPTER 11

W
hat do you mean ‘
her brothers have taken her home’
?”

Padrig Nowlin flinched as Granby shot to his feet and his chair toppled back onto the floor with a reverberating crack.

“Just that, sir. She was snatched away from me at gunpoint, and before I could get her back, her brothers arrived.”

Granby paced across the room, one hand fiddling with the patch that covered his left eye. Lady Boudicea had done that to him.
With her bare hands. Padrig forced himself to ignore the shiver that went down his spine. If she was capable of such an action,
what might her brothers do?

“I came as quickly as I could, sir,” Padrig said, fully aware that nothing he could have said or done was going to mollify
his employer.

“Snatch a girl and bring her to me. How hard is that?” Granby glared out of his one eye, his mouth quirked into a dismissive
moue of disgust. “Lock her in the carriage and
don’t let her out until you reach Scotland. Nothing could have been simpler.”

Padrig choked down the obvious retort. If it was so simple, how had she got away from Granby when he’d tried it? “I know,
sir.”

“But your
knowing
didn’t get the job done,” Granby said, deep frown lines marring both cheeks. “And you very much wanted to get the job done,
Nowlin. Maeve has already discovered a taste for the life of a harlot.”

Padrig’s hands curled into fists.

“Well,” Granby continued, smoothing his coat, “she likes the clothes and the money and the frills and furbelows that accompany
her newfound place in the world. In a few weeks, who knows, she may have passed out of my keeping entirely.”

“Breaking our bargain,” Padrig growled.

“And whose fault would that be? Not mine. I promised to return the little slut when you brought me what I wanted. If that’s
become impossible, I’ll do with her as I like. And so will my friends. There’s always Bridget and little Sorcha to take her
place when she moves on.”

“I’ll kill you first.”

Granby laughed, and Padrig felt a quick flush of shame. If he were any kind of man at all…

“If you were going to kill me,” Granby said, “you’d have done it when you woke up and discovered you’d lost everything to
me, or when you found Maeve had bought you a six-month reprieve.” He straightened his neckcloth, not even bothering to pretend
to be concerned for his safety. “All you’re going to do now is hie yourself back to England and attempt to correct your mistake.”

CHAPTER 12

W
hy won’t anyone listen?” Beau paced across her brother’s library, flexing her hands, nearly overcome with the urge to smash
something. She veered toward the fireplace. The Meissen shepherdess on the mantel was perfect for her purposes.

The sound of her father clearing his throat brought her up short, and she spun about to face him. “Boudicea, sit down,” he
said, his tone brooking no disobedience.

Beau threw herself into the window seat, staring resolutely out at the lawn. Her elder brother had fled the moment that her
parents had arrived. Her sister-in-law was playing least in sight, and her parents were driving her mad. Her mother was planning
a wedding, while her father was planning a funeral. It had got so bad that the two of them had stopped speaking to each other.
Beau couldn’t remember her parents ever disagreeing about anything to this extent.

“I don’t want to hear any more of your stories, my dear. As I’ve already told you, I’ll make up my mind about
what’s to be done when I’ve spoken to Mr. Sandison.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. Beau turned her head to find him
studying her with a resigned look on his face.

“Perhaps your mother’s right,” he continued, “and a quick marriage under the aegis of your family would be best. But I want
you to think—truly think—about whether you really want to tie yourself to such a man. He’s a rake, my dear. And everyone knows
it. He’s been playing fast and loose with Lady Cook these past few months, and the pair of them have been none too sly about
it. Think about that. He’s been debauching another man’s wife while seducing you. Is that really the kind of man you want
to marry?”

Beau let her breath out in a long sigh. Though her father’s facts were faulty, the sentiment wasn’t. Sandison had been having
an affair with Lady Cook, and before that it had been Mrs. Langley, and before her, some blond girl from the opera house—one
could hardly have missed the way they flaunted themselves about Rotten Row. Beau might only have been on the marriage mart
for a few years, but she could tally at least a score of Gareth’s conquests, and no doubt she’d missed just as many.

He never stayed loyal to any of them very long. Like a stallion with his harem of mares. Would she be any different? Perhaps
she was mad to believe so, but she did. Once given, Sandison’s loyalty was steadfast.