A Hint of Scandal (26 page)

Pushing herself up onto her pillows, she brushed her long dark hair off her shoulders. The duke’s words of last night came back to her. The words he had spoken before the kiss.

She admitted that he had been correct about her feeling the beginnings of a friendship developing between them during his recovery at the cottage. But that was before that horrible morning her father and uncle had confronted
them. That was before they had been forced to marry. How would the friendship have grown if it had been allowed to blossom of its own accord? She would never know, she realized with sadness.

Across the room, on the little table by the chaise that overlooked the formal garden, Bella saw that the maid had left a tray with toast and chocolate. Rising and stretching, she moved to sit on the chaise. After pouring the chocolate into a delicate porcelain cup, she pensively contemplated the view from the high arching window.

Trying to push away the memory of how the duke’s lips felt upon hers, Bella reflected on the scathing words the duke’s sister had said to her last night. With a bit of a wrench in her heart, Bella knew the Lady Edgeton was right: The circumstance of her marriage to the duke was beneath the Westlake name.

During her brief stay at Autley she had toured the gallery, which was in actuality more of a museum of English history. There had been a direct succession of Westlakes unbroken since the year 1224. She had been astonished and impressed to learn the first Alexander Westlake had been created a duke in 1485. The family was aligned, in one way or another, with most of the other noble families of Great Britain.

She recalled the paintings and other artifacts depicting the glorious accomplishments of past Westlakes. Great soldiers and scholars and respected political minds were scattered throughout the Westlake family tree.

Putting the cup down, Bella began to pluck distractedly at the fine lawn of her negligee. In truth, as painful as it was to face, the duke had certainly gotten the bad end of the bargain when he married her.

To his credit, he had been willing to make the best of this bad bargain. A frown creased her brow when she recalled the argument they had had in his library at Autley. He had said then, and in no uncertain terms, that there would be no annulment. But upon his arrival in London, he had agreed to discuss it after Louisa’s wedding. She wondered what had changed his mind on the subject. Probably after thinking over the idea of an annulment, he had concluded that it was the only way out of this misalliance.

And now, this kiss.

Her fingers stole up to her lips. She felt so different. Could it be possible that one kiss could change her whole view of her situation?

She felt she did not know herself any longer. Before the duke had landed at her doorstep, she had had supreme confidence in the decisions she had made regarding her future. She had been planning for three years to marry Robert Fortiscue. Planning to have children with him, she remembered with astonishment at her own blindness.

Never once had she thought of kissing him; never once had she contemplated the intimacy that would be required to create those children.

How completely different it was with the duke, she owned, with the beginnings of a blush coming to her ivory cheeks. It was now very clear to her that ever since he had come out of his fever, she had been fighting to suppress her overwhelming awareness of him as a man.

She realized it was not just his physical attributes, though considerable, that attracted her to him. It was his intelligence and sense of humor as well. She also liked the way he treated her family. She admired his military experience and thought him the most gentlemanly man of her acquaintance.

It was so lowering to know that the sense of duty and honor that she admired so much was the very reason she cringed with mortification every time she thought of their wedding.

So what to do now?
she wondered dejectedly, just as she heard a knock at her door. Looking over, she saw the door open, and a moment later her cousin’s blond head poked in.

“Oh, good, you are up,” Triss said, crossing the room to flop down at the foot of the chaise.

Bella thought she looked charming, and deceptively innocent in her blue morning gown.

“I know you told me last night that we are to do nothing about Robert, but I wondered if you told the duke what happened. And if so, what did he say?”

“Yes, we were discussing what had occurred at Almack’s
when you came in,” she said vaguely, picking up her teacup again.

“And?” Triss asked.

“The duke thinks it does not signify,” Bella replied with a little shrug.

“How like him. So lofty and dismissive of lesser mortals.” Triss sighed and picked up a piece of toast from the tray.

Bella frowned at her cousin’s words. “Is that how you see Westlake?” she asked over her teacup.

Triss glanced up from her toast with a look of mild surprise. “Of course. How can he help it? He has been all the kick since coming home from the war. Everyone gossips about him and tries to duplicate how he ties his neckcloth. And with every eligible miss, and a good many of their mamas, chasing after him, how could he not be arrogant? In a most attractive way, of course.”

Bella contemplated her cousin’s words. Triss’s opinion of the duke did not quite agree with her own. Oh, he was definitely imposing and supremely confident. She had even seen his arrogance on occasion. But she recalled the time he had told her of his brother’s death. He had revealed a depth of feeling that she somehow sensed was not often shared with others.

She also had to admit that his treatment of her had been above kind, under the circumstances. Who would have blamed him if he had shown resentment toward her because of this unwanted marriage? But he had been nothing but amenable, to the point of indulgence, toward her from the moment they had married.

No, she did not completely agree with Triss’s assessment of the duke.

“We are quite dull,” Triss opined while stretching her arms over her head and yawning. “Let us have a walk in the park and plan our revenge on that weasel-face, Robert Fortiscue.” Bella could not help but laugh at her incorrigible cousin. “All right, let me have a bath and I will be with you in less than an hour,” she said. Rising from the chaise, Bella moved to the bellpull to summon her maid.

Still lounging on the chaise, Triss looked at Bella with curious eyes. “Bella, lately you seem to be different somehow,” she said.

“Well, goose, my life has undergone a few changes in the last couple of months,” Bella said in dry understatement.

“I
know
that,” Triss replied. “I mean, you are prettier, and until last night I think you were beginning to enjoy the Season. I can’t put my finger on it exactly, but you are different.”

Bella said nothing. She was thankful when the maid entered, for the memory of being in the duke’s arms was causing a blush to rise again to her cheeks.

It was a fine warm day, and Bella was glad to be out-of-doors—and appreciative of her cousin’s chatter, for it diverted her from troubling thoughts of the duke.

They strolled along with their sunshades shielding them from the sun, while Bella admired the beds overflowing with beautiful fragrant flowers. She was pleased that they had come out before the fashionable hour, for they had the park almost to themselves. Glancing to a tree at the sound of a baby bird’s call to its mother, Bella decided she liked this side of London after all.

“I believe I shall make a list,” Triss stated, swinging her sunshade to and fro.

“A list of what?” Bella asked as they strolled along.

“Of eligible gentlemen, silly,” Triss replied.

“Oh, of course. What other kind of list is there?” Bella responded with mock seriousness.

“I have very high hopes for Lady Louisa’s wedding,” Triss continued, ignoring Bella’s levity. “Everyone of any importance shall be there. And as weddings are so romantic, mayhap my own romance shall be spurred on by the atmosphere.”

“You really are a nudgeon,” Bella said with a shake of her head and a little laugh.

They ambled on, and Bella felt better for the exercise. A few more people had entered the park, and Bella enjoyed watching the growing parade of fashionables taking the air.

“Is that not Margaret Westlake over there, by the very large tree?” Triss asked a few moments later.

Bella looked in the direction Triss indicated.

“Why, yes, and there is Henry, too.”

“Do you recognize the gentleman with them?” Triss asked, still looking in the distance to where Margaret stood under the tree.

“I do not believe so. Let us go and greet them. I have not seen Henry since coming to London.”

The two ladies changed their direction and walked across the grass. As Margaret looked over toward them, Bella saw her start with surprise.

“Good afternoon, Mrs. Westlake. Good day, Henry. I believe you have previously met my cousin, Lady Beatrice Tichley?” Bella smiled at the little group, closing her sunshade.

Margaret stared at Bella with a slightly open mouth.

Bella tried not to stare at the lady’s attire. Margaret wore a very bright yellow walking gown with a spencer of yellowish green. The whole ensemble had a profusion of braids, gathers, and bows.

“Er… why, yes, I have had the pleasure. Ah… may I present Mr. Fitzdowning? The Duchess of Westlake,” she said in a breathless voice.

Bella could not help noticing that Margaret was casting nervous glances at the gentleman. Henry, after making a hasty bow, wandered off, kicking divots into the grass.

Turning to the gentleman, Bella saw he was of a medium build, thickening around the middle. His features were blunt, though not unattractive. Bella thought his beaver hat had seen better days. Something about him seemed familiar. As he bowed to her, she wondered where they could have met. She had not been very much in Society since coming to London, so there were few choices for an encounter.

Introducing Triss to the man, Bella wondered at the significant glance she caught flashing between Mr. Fitzdowning and Margaret.

“Your servant, your grace, Lady Beatrice,” he intoned stiffly as he bowed to Bella and Triss.

“Henry and I were taking some exercise when we saw our dear friend, Mr. Fitzdowning. He knew my poor late husband very well. We were just catching up on the news
from Tilbourne,” Margaret spoke, ending her little speech on a note of tittering laughter.

“You are from Tilbourne then, sir?” Bella questioned politely.

Mr. Fitzdowning cast another quick glance to Margaret, and Bella would have sworn that she saw anger in his expression.

“Yes, your grace, in town on some business matters. What a surprise to come across Mrs. Westlake and Master Henry,” he offered.

“Has not the weather been very kind of late?” Margaret said, smiling broadly at them all.

Bella caught Triss from the corner of her eye giving Margaret a quizzical look.

“Lovely,” Bella agreed.

“Oh, my, it must be getting very late,” Margaret continued, her eyes going wide with surprise. “You must forgive me for rushing off in this fashion. The dowager duchess is expecting Henry and me for tea. We must not be late. Come, Henry,” she called her son over, and grabbed his hand.

Mother and son were already moving away when Mr. Fitzdowning also recalled a previous appointment. With another bow, he turned and walked away in the opposite direction from Margaret and Henry.

Bella and Triss stood under the tree and looked at each other with perplexed expressions. After a moment they turned and headed back toward the carriage.

“Margaret Westlake is an odd fish,” Triss stated.

“Indeed,” Bella agreed with a frown. “I have the notion that I have seen that fellow before.”

“Do you? Where?”

Bella shook her head, for she could not yet place him.

After a few more yards, Bella stopped in her tracks and grabbed Triss’s arm.

“I remember now,” Bella said, looking down at Triss with excited eyes. “When the duke had taken me driving in Hyde Park, we came across Margaret speaking to Mr. Fitzdowning. He was on horseback and trotted off before Margaret could make the introductions,” she explained.

“So? What is there in that to get you in such a pet?” Triss asked as they resumed walking.

“Westlake specifically told me to inform him if I saw the man again,” she told her cousin.

“Good heavens, why?” Triss asked as she hurried her steps to keep up with Bella.

“I haven’t a clue,” she said as they moved swiftly to the carriage. “But I am going to find out.”

W
estlake walked into his club, handed his hat and cane to the majordomo, and looked around the richly appointed room.

Though it was late in the evening, the club was crowded, and it took him some moments to find what he was looking for. At the far end, ensconced in a wide alcove, the Duke of Severly was lounging in a leather chair. At the table with Severly were a number of other peers. Westlake moved toward the table, nodding to a few gentlemen on the way.

Severly looked up from the cards in his hand and was pleased to see his oldest and closest friend. But after taking in his friend’s very composed expression, Severly folded, though he had a good hand, and left the game. Those who knew Westlake well recognized this expression as an indication that trouble was brewing.

The two men moved to a pair of club chairs strategically placed by the fireplace to afford some privacy.

“What has got your jaw set so firmly, Alex?” Severly queried.

“Actually, I would like you to help keep me from killing someone,” the duke said, turning his cool gray eyes to his oldest friend.

“Again?” Severly asked, raising his brow.

Severly was fondly recalling a particular incident from their days at Eton. Only the two of them knew the exact
details of what had happened on a certain night they had sneaked away from their rooms. If the headmaster had been able to uncover the full facts, there was no doubt that they both would have been sent down for their youthful prank. To this day, that wild night was legend among the men who had attended Eton at that time.