Only Scandal Will Do Page 10

  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.

  Manning bounded from his chair. “Let me see if I can persuade her to at least see you. I just pray you have a silver tongue in your head–and that she will give you an audience.” He quit the room at a run.

  Duncan turned to the window, clasped his hands sternly behind his back, closed his eyes and waited. After what seemed at least a decade, he heard Manning calling, “Dalbury!”

  He popped out of the receiving room, galvanized by the earl’s strident tone. “Where is Lady Katarina?”

  “Gone to the docks.” Manning’s face was splotched with hectic color, whether from fury or fear he could not hazard a guess. “Her ship sails on the evening tide.”

  “Come on.” Duncan headed for the door and the earl hurried after him, worry and indignation warring on his face. They climbed into the marquess’s carriage and set off.

  “Don’t worry, Manning. It’s hours until she sails. We will reach her in time.”

  “In time for me to beat some sense into her.”

  Duncan smiled. “I thought I was the only man allowed to do that now.”

  “She hasn’t accepted you yet, Dalbury, and likely never will.”

  “We shall see.” He grinned. “I can be very persuasive.”

  Manning shook his head, holding it in his hands. “I think I am going to be ill.”

  Duncan chuckled. “And we aren’t even at sea yet!”

  Chapter 12

  Kat awoke to the slightly rolling sway of a ship at sea. Stretching out in the single berth of her cabin, she smiled at the thought of her escape. She was on her way to Virginia and Amiable. Hopefully to Amiable. Time enough to brood, though, once they were out on the ocean. Although then she would likely be too sick to brood.

  She looked down at her makeshift night rail and frowned. Her chemise must do double duty until she got to Virginia, unless she took to sleeping naked, an idea so scandalous she blushed. Kat rose and donned her apple-green dress of yesterday, the only garment she would have throughout the voyage. She would be rather bedraggled six weeks hence when they docked in Virginia. Where Peter and her trunks had ended up she did not know, but certainly not aboard the Constanza. The first mate had informed her of this last evening before they sailed. Perhaps Mrs. Jameson could loan her some clothing. She would ask her chaperone if she saw her at breakfast; if not, she would pay the family a call afterward.

  When she’d come aboard just after noon, the first mate had shown her to her cabin. She had spun him a tale of a dreadful suitor, a naive brother, and a true love in America. The sailor agreed to deny he ever saw her, should anyone ask. In exchange for his silence, half her coins now resided in the man’s pocket. But the ruse had worked. It was morning, she was at sea, and Jack and the malevolent marquess were miles away in London. A gleeful smile crept over her lips.

  She must go up on deck and find where breakfast was being served; she might as well eat while she could. Smoothing her rumpled clothing in an attempt to look presentable, she sighed anew. Such a pity she hadn’t been able to bring Margery, but she would get used to doing things for herself. Would Amiable be able to afford servants? She shrugged. Domestic help was of small concern if she could only be safe from the marquess.

  On deck, she peered around for a crewmember who could direct her. Another passenger–his suit of golden brown silk and his refined bearing bespoke him a gentleman–sat on a barrel, gazing out at the water. She approached him hesitantly, not wishing to disturb his reverie. Her stomach, however, had begun to make demands. She had foregone dinner to remain in the cabin lest someone see her before they left the dock.

  She came to stand behind him, wondering how to best address him without startling him. Overtop the railing, buildings loomed. They were not in the open water, but moved slowly along the different docks within the city of London.

  “Excuse me, sir, but do you know why we have not left the city waterway, yet? I was given to believe that we sailed on last evening’s tide. Has there been a change in plan?” Kat began to worry she would have to spend the entire day hidden in her cabin.

  The man rose, uncommonly tall and slender, the morning sun glinting off his golden brown hair. He turned toward her and her worry transformed into shocked dismay.

  “What the devil are you doing here?”

  The Marquess of Dalbury took a step toward her and her stomach turned over, though not from the motion of the ship. She turned to flee but the marquess snared her wrist, holding her captive before him.

  “I was waiting for you, Lady Katarina,” came his smooth reply. He gathered her arm in his, completely disregarding her outrage. “I have been up since dawn anticipating when you would awaken.” He smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he squinted against the light. “There has indeed been a change in plan. This ship is no longer sailing to America. As soon as it docks, however, I will be most happy to escort you back to your brother’s house.”

  Kat gave a tremendous pull and squeezed her arm out of his. She whirled and pounded down the dark-planked deck in search of someone who could protect her from this wretched man. She found no one. Frantic, she tried to locate the helmsman, but found her way barricaded with barrels and boxes. She turned to find the marquess several feet behind her, leaning against the side of the wheelhouse. He still wore that damnable self-satisfied smile on his face.

  “You do not trust my word on this, my lady? Shall we find your brother to confirm it?”

  “Jack!” The pit of her stomach plummeted. Her brother had betrayed her, the despicable turncoat.

  “Of course, I insisted Lord Manning act as chaperone to us last night, since we are not married...yet.” He smiled mischievously.

  “As I made abundantly clear the last two times we met, my lord, I will see you in hell before I marry you.” She darted a look around the ship again, hoping for rescue, but not a soul stirred in the warm morning light. Damn! Had he put the whole crew ashore?

  His smile broadened, if that was physically possible. “Actually, Lady Katarina, you have in the past likened me to your hope of heaven.”

  She gave him a withering glance. Did the fool think to stand here and bandy words with her when she would just as soon push him over the rail?

  As if reading her thoughts, he said quickly, “I can swim, Lady Katarina, so trying to throw me overboard will only delay our departure and ruin my suit.”

  “I will ruin something else if I get the chance, my lord,” she muttered. Unable to bear facing him any longer, Kat lowered her eyes. “Where is my brother? If he is indeed on board.”

  “Oh, he is here, have no fear of that. He is probably below having breakfast. Shall we join him?” Dalbury had the temerity to offer her his arm, which she pointedly ignored and brushed past him, heading back the way they had come.

  “How did you manage to stop the ship’s sailing? Did you bribe the captain? Or is the owner a friend of yours?”

  “Indeed, Lady Katarina, the captain was quite impervious to bribery.”

  “So what did you do?”

  “I bought the ship.”

  Katarina stopped to stare at him in open-mouthed amazement. She glanced from side to side at the empty deck. “Did you forget to hire a crew?”

  He laughed and took the opportunity to snare her arm and lead her toward the gangway. “The Constanza is a Dutch fluyt, mainly a cargo vessel, though th
is one has been refitted to accommodate passengers. One of its many attributes is that it can be crewed by as few as twelve men.” His smile widened. “Fewer under foot, you see.” His eyes twinkled in amusement. “As you might have guessed, I usually get what I want.”

  The amusement died, replaced by a more sober countenance. “I do, however, sorely regret the means by which I tried to do so the evening we met. But I am not at all sorry to be in the position to offer my hand and heart to you.”

  She slowed to a stop at the entrance to the gangway.

  “Lady Katarina,” he entreated her, “if we had met at my aunt’s masquerade ball instead of at Madame Vestry’s, would you reject my suit so out of hand? Am I myself distasteful to you or is it the circumstances of our first meeting alone that makes you look on me with disfavor?”

  Kat turned to him and opened her mouth for a glib retort, only to have the words die. The touchingly real torment in his soft brown eyes held her spellbound. Did he actually feel something for her? The thought both captivated and horrified her.

  Struggling to reply to him, Kat tried to focus on something other than his hopeful face. “I hardly know what I would have done in those circumstances, will never know in fact. I cannot know you, Lord Dalbury, except by your deeds and they can hardly recommend you to me.”

  Unaccountably driven to soften her words, she continued, “Since that night you have been...civil to me, but had you acted thus in March we would not be where we are now. I refuse to be forced into marriage with you, my lord. Whatever you and my brother have concocted, it will be to no avail. Neither you nor he can compel me to say my vows to you.” Despite this declaration, she had to turn away, as the devastation in his eyes sent a sharp pang to her heart.

  She squared her shoulders and walked past him, toward the galley. Dalbury’s footsteps sounded behind her, and she closed her eyes almost in pain. Why did he have to be so damned engaging?

  Because he was a practiced rake with a bag of tricks and the skill to make any woman lower her defenses. Just like she’d lowered hers that night in March. She felt a bloom of heat at the memory of how completely he’d fooled her into thinking he believed her story. Everything he said, every soulful look he gave was calculated to snare her. If she even thought of softening, of agreeing to marry the marquess, the conceited ass would win and she would be trapped forever with a faithless rake.