Ripe for Scandal (28 page)

“You know what Souttar is,” Gareth said with a shrug, striving to keep his answer simple. “He’d been inconvenienced as it
was, taking care of the matter himself to spare me would be entirely beyond him. And pointless. I exist to serve him, not
the other way round.”

“You’re still alive only to serve my sister,” Vaughn said from behind him. “And for no other reason. Souttar be damned.”

“Agreed.” Gareth met his oldest friend’s gaze and saw nothing there to engender hope. “But at the moment, I need your help
to do so. Yours and The League’s.”

Vaughn frowned but didn’t reply. He slid into the seat
beside Devere. He hadn’t bothered to take off his greatcoat, but he did pull off his gloves and stuff them into one of its
pockets.

“Help you? With what?” Devere looked leery, as though he were being offered a meat pie of questionable origin.

“To keep Beau safe, for one,” Gareth replied.

A derisive snort from Beau’s brother was all the reply that he got. Devere shot Vaughn a disbelieving look and shook his head.

“What does Beau need protecting from?” Devere said.

“Besides you,” Vaughn added.

Gareth ignored the jibe. “Granby. She needs protecting from George Granby. Because her family didn’t take care of the bastard
the last time round.”

Vaughn shot to his feet, and Devere yanked him back down by his coat. He landed hard enough that the chair squealed in protest.
Vaughn shoved Devere’s hand off of him.

“What is he talking about, Vaughn?” Devere said, pitching his voice low. “Who the hell is George Granby?”

“The only person Beau needs protecting from is Sandison here. Granby is no one. A ghost.”

“A ghost who pitched your sister off a cliff and nearly drowned her not two days ago.”

Beau’s brother flinched, and Gareth pressed his advantage. “I know you don’t believe me, but I really wasn’t the one who abducted
Beau. It was some creature of Granby’s. Beau saw them together when Granby attacked her.”

“Was it really?” Vaughn said, his voice shaking with anger. “What do you want, Sandison? I’ve no time—and no inclination—for
your tales.”

“From you? I want you to fetch Beau home. Do whatever it takes to convince her. Hate me, disbelieve me, distrust me, just
keep her safe.”

“Gladly,” Vaughn said, rising and pulling on his gloves. “But don’t expect me to return her.”

“That will be up to her,” Gareth said. “Won’t it?”

“Not if my family has anything to say about it. And the duke can be very persuasive when he wants to be.”

Gareth nodded. If a full estrangement was what was necessary to keep Beau safe, so be it. There were no grounds for a divorce,
and he could worry about winning her back once Granby had been dealt with. Assuming he could get near her.

“What did you need The League’s help with?” Vaughn asked as he turned to go. “Or were you implying that my family isn’t capable
of keeping Beau safe without their assistance?”

Gareth shook his head. “It needn’t concern you. Just keep your sister safe.”

“Done.” Lord Leonidas looked down his nose at him, and Gareth swallowed down the sudden urge to simply pound the stiffness
out of him. Somewhere behind that icy façade was the man whom he’d known and called a friend for more than twenty years.

With one last disdainful look, Vaughn turned and left.

Devere let his breath out in a dramatic gust. “And what do you need the rest of us for?”

“Tracking down Granby and getting Jamie—the boy, my neph-
son
,” he added at Devere’s blank look, “back from him.”

The lie still didn’t come easy, didn’t feel natural. The
word
son
didn’t fall off his tongue with any grace at all. Damn Souttar for putting him in this position.

Devere sucked in one cheek and nodded thoughtfully. “Your
nephew
, eh? Still covering for Souttar no matter the cost? You’re a damn fool, and I’m guessing there’s a story there I’m better
off being ignorant of.”

Gareth nodded, cursing himself for making such a clumsy slip of the tongue. “There is, and it’s best left alone.”

“So, even if this Granby person did want revenge, why would he take your bastard?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Gareth said. “And what I’m hoping The League can help me find out. If I don’t get Jamie back,
I’m fairly certain Beau won’t be coming back to me. Ever. It’s a haphazard family, but it’s mine. And it’s all I’ve got.”

CHAPTER 40

G
et your hand off my bridle, Boaz,” Beau said, leaving the threat of recriminations open and vague. He knew better than to
stand in her way.

Her footman-cum-groom adjusted his grip on Gunpowder’s bridle. “I can’t let you go, my lady.”

“Because Mr. Sandison ordered you to keep me here?”

Boaz frowned. “I don’t work for your husband, but your father would have my hide if I let you ride out like this. And he’d
be right to do so.”

Gunpowder minced nervously, and Beau forced herself to relax the reins. “Then come with me to Dover where we can catch the
mail or hire a carriage of our own.”

His grip slackened. “You’ll not ride off while I’m saddling Cloud?”

“Not if you’re quick,” Beau said. “And wake John. He can pony our mounts back to the Hall.”

A few minutes later, Boaz and a sleepy John were both mounted beside her. Beau nodded to them, and Gunpowder shot out of the
yard.

The first hint of dawn was just coloring the sky as they left the drive and turned their horses west toward Dover. They passed
several boys taking their flocks out and sprang past a slow-moving dray loaded down with barrels.

When they reached Dover, Beau handed Gunpowder’s reins to John and her portmanteau to Boaz. She fished in her pocket for her
purse.

“Wait here,” she said. “I think we’ve beaten the first packet from France, so there should be seats of some kind left.”

After a short conversation with the clerk, Beau managed to secure the last two seats on the mail coach. She waved Boaz over.
“They’re on the roof, but it’s all that’s available.”

“It’s more than eighteen hours to London. You’ll freeze, my lady.”

“Nonsense, Boaz. My habit is kerseymere, and I’m wearing my fur-lined redingote. I’ll be every bit as warm as you or the driver.”

Her footman shook his head and boosted her up onto the roof of the mail coach. He tossed up her bag and climbed up behind
her. Boaz sat down beside her, brow puckered with consternation, clearly uncomfortable with the arrangements.

“It’s not fitting, my lady.”

Beau didn’t answer.

“What if you fall and break your neck?”

“You’ll have the satisfaction of telling everyone you warned me.”

The coachman bellowed a warning, and they rolled into motion. Beau held tightly to the small railing that
encircled the seats. Boaz hunched down beside her, glowering.

By the time they arrived in London, she was frozen, exhausted, starving, and her temper was more than a little frayed. Boaz
swung her down and steadied her as she fought to get the blood flowing in her legs again.

They transferred to a hackney, and Beau suffered a moment of indecision when asked for their destination. Her parents were
home in Scotland. She hadn’t the slightest idea where Gareth’s rooms were, or if he even still had them. Which left her with
only her brother’s house in Chapel Street.

She gave the driver the direction and scrambled into the dilapidated carriage. It creaked and bounced the entire way, but
it got her there all the same. While Boaz paid the driver, Beau ran up the steps and knocked.

The familiar face of her brother’s long-time butler greeted her when the door opened. “Sampson! It’s so very good to see you.”
She stepped inside and began pulling off her gloves. “Is my brother or Lady Leonidas home?”

“Of course, my lady. Come into the drawing room and warm up while I inform her ladyship that you’ve arrived.”

There was a cheerful fire in the hearth, and Beau stood as close as she could without catching her skirt on fire. She stepped
back with a curse when the scent of singed wool caught her attention. She brushed a hand over her skirt, checking for scorch
marks. She was still looking when her sister-in-law came running in.

“Beau?” Viola rushed forward to embrace her. “You’re cold as ice. Are you hungry? Of course you are. How on earth did you
get here?” Viola rattled off one question
after another, giving Beau no time to answer any of them. Viola’s mastiff pranced excitedly around them, nearly knocking Beau
over.

“Yes, hello, Pen,” Beau said, fending off the dog with both hands.

Leo came in right behind them. Unlike his wife, Leo didn’t say a word. And unlike the dog, he didn’t appear to be happy to
see her. He just stared at her, arms crossed, an angry frown marring his face.

“Have you seen Gareth?” Beau said, playing with the mastiff’s ears now that it had calmed down.

“Yes,” Leo said flatly.

“And you still don’t believe him. Don’t believe me.” Beau circled the room, trying to work off the urge to hit him. Pen whined
in confusion, and Viola called her over.

“Leo, I’ve been called a lot of unpleasant things in my life, but
liar
isn’t amongst them. Why would I start now? And about this?”

When her brother didn’t respond, Beau growled in frustration and flung up her hands. “Do you want the ugly, unadulterated
truth? I seduced Gareth, not the other way round. I did it. Me. And I did it knowingly.”

Leo drew a sharp breath, and a muscle jumped in his jaw. Behind her, her sister-in-law mumbled something that sounded like
I told you so
.

“Gareth would have brought me safely home, and I knew it. I also knew I was ruined. So I made a choice. A conscious, deliberate,
selfish choice.” She punctuated each word with another jab to his chest. “I chose my reputation over Gareth’s. I sacrificed
him in order to save myself. You said last year that maybe you should have
left me to Granby. You as good as warned me not to get myself into another scrape.”

Leo looked green. The frown was gone, replaced by a wide, horrified gaze. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Wasn’t it?” Beau said, refusing to let him off the hook. “Well, I did find myself in another scrape, so I got myself out.
It was me. All of it. If anyone was the victim, it was Gareth. And he’s been paying the price for rescuing me ever since.”

“Perhaps,” Leo said. “But there’s also a chance he’s not the hero you make him out to be. That you’re the victim, whether
it was you who did the seducing or not.”

Beau raised a brow in disbelief. “You’re not making sense, Leo.”

“If Sandison already had a wife, then his marrying you would be unforgivable.”

Beau caught her lips between her teeth and shook her head. “Don’t be absurd.”

“We got a letter asserting just that,” Viola said, breaking into the conversation. “It said he was already married. That the
boy his brother brought was his legitimate son.”

“Souttar said the boy’s mother was dead.” Beau felt suddenly sick. She shook the sensation off. “That her family had dumped
the boy on them afterward.”

“She may well be dead, now,” Leo said grimly. “If so, the question is when did she die? Before or after he married you?”

“No,” Beau ground out. “The question is whether or not your mysterious correspondent is lying. And if it’s who I think it
is, then this is just another attempt to cause trouble.”

“Granby?” Leo said.

“I assume Gareth already tried to tell you this?”

Leo nodded. “He did. It sounded as far-fetched then as it does now.”

“More far-fetched than your best friend having a secret wife and purposefully ruining your sister? Quit being an ass, brother.
Granby showed up at Morton Hall with Mr. Nowlin—my most recent abductor, the one you don’t believe exists—in tow. They tried
to take me again, but I fell over the cliff fighting them off. They
did
take Jamie, however.”

“And you want the boy back?” Leo said.

Beau nodded. She couldn’t help it. He was hers now, every bit as much as Gareth. She didn’t think that she could face life
at Morton Hall without him.