A Taste for Scandal (24 page)

He lowered her hand, but didn’t release it. Instead, he intertwined their fingers and tugged her closer. “Jane,” he said, then paused to take a deep breath.

When he didn’t say more after a few seconds, she couldn’t hold silent anymore. “Yes?” Her voice was oddly breathy to her ears and she swallowed. In that moment, with her hand wrapped in his and bare inches separating them, she wanted more. Whatever more was, she didn’t want to name, but if she had to go on like this, like she was about to come out of her skin, she didn’t think she could take it.

He reached his free hand up and brushed the errant hair from her cheeks, the supple leather of his glove like the kiss of a butterfly. “Jane, please say that I can see you again.”

She had never wanted anything more in her life. She couldn’t even remember why she had been so opposed to the idea in the first place. Everybody deserved a bit of adventure in their lives, right? She licked her lips and gave a tiny nod.

He exhaled swiftly and squeezed her hand. “Tonight? Please say I can see you tonight.”

Her heart leapt at the desire she saw in his gaze. Honestly, he looked as though he wanted to pick her up and carry her away right then and there. A strange, delicious heat curled through her belly, warming her from the inside out. She dropped her head and looked to their joined hands.

How could she say yes? It would be the very pinnacle of foolishness to do so. She had not worked half her life just to ruin it all with some sort of meaningless affair. She took a much-needed deep breath and raised her gaze. Looking into the crystal blue depths of his eyes, so earnest and hopeful, a different question crowded her mind.

How could she say no?

Chapter Nineteen

As Richard finally made his way home hours later, he couldn’t seem to help but hum the waltz playing in his head. He
did
manage to keep from dancing as he traversed the streets of London, but only just.

She said yes!

He stifled the laugh threatening to break free and instead grinned like a fool to a passing costermonger. The old woman flushed right to the roots of her graying hair; he could only imagine what people thought of him.

They had danced, and dined, and talked like lovers in the early morning sunshine by the lake. All too soon their outing had concluded, as governesses and small children had begun to trickle by. The only true disappointment was that she had insisted they wait until next week to meet again. Apparently, Jane’s brother and cousin were planning a small excursion to Gravesend next Saturday and Sunday to visit with one of Webb’s naval friends. That meant that from the close of the shop on Saturday until Sunday night, she had no one to answer to but herself.

He could hardly wait.

As he reached Granville House, the door opened with the innate timing the family had learned to expect over the years. One of these days, the butler would be otherwise occupied when Richard arrived, and he would walk straight into the door. Wouldn’t that be a sight for the neighbors? He chuckled at the thought.

Full of love for his fellow man, Richard doffed his hat and tossed it playfully into Finnington’s waiting hands. “A most excellent day, wouldn’t you agree, my good man?”

“Indeed, my lord.” The butler didn’t bat an eye. Good egg, that one. The world would be an orderly place indeed, if butlers ruled.

The unmistakable sound of skilled fingers on the keys of the pianoforte filtered down from above as he handed his coat over to Finnington. “Ah, I see the Effingtons are here.”

“Yes, my lord. Also, Lord Granville has asked that you join him in his study at your earliest convenience.”

Richard raised an eyebrow, but merely thanked the man before heading for the stairs to see what his father wanted with him. The door to the study was open, and Richard paused in the doorway and shook his head. “It’s Sunday, you know. Even God rested on Sunday, though I’m not sure he had quite as many commitments as you.”

Father looked up from the smattering of papers he was studying, strain clear in the tense lines around his eyes. “Yes, but on the seventh day his work was done, whereas mine is never ending.” He sat back in his chair, rolling his neck from side to side before extending a hand to the pair of Windsor chairs situated across from the ancient oak desk. “Come, sit.”

Richard pushed away from the doorjamb and entered the inner sanctum of his father’s study. The drapes had been pushed completely aside, allowing as much daylight as possible into the room, but the wood-paneled walls still made the space seem rather dark and oppressive. Not a place Richard looked forward to spending any amount of time.

“Finnington said you wished to see me?”

“Indeed.” Father rose and walked to the small cabinet housing his private selection of liquor. “Whiskey?”

Richard raised his eyebrows—it was barely past noon. Still, he nodded and waited while the marquis poured two glasses of his finest vintage.

“Your mother tells me there seems to be a change in you of late.”

“Oh?” Richard said, accepting the glass from his father. He didn’t know where this was going, but the statement put him on his guard, especially given the tightness of his father’s voice. Richard swirled the liquid in the snifter, eyeing his father warily.

“She has it in her mind that you may have taken a fancy to a certain young lady this Season. I wonder if it is true.”

“I fancy many young ladies
every
Season.”

“So there is no certain one that has taken your interest?”

Richard considered the question. He certainly wasn’t going to lie to his father, but he didn’t particularly want the man to be privy to Richard’s little . . . attraction to Jane. “My interest in this year’s debutantes is as it has always been: polite indifference.”

“That is precisely what I told your mother last night. She seemed adamant that someone had caught your eye, and that you had been acting differently these past few weeks. She swore that you were a man in love.”

Richard snorted. Love? Certainly not. Still, something odd slid through his chest at the thought. He pushed it away—such a thought was absurd. He didn’t
love
his little baker; he was merely enjoying a passing infatuation. “I love Mother dearly, but she does tend to see what she wants to see.”

“What she wants to see is you and Miss Effington making a match of it this Season. She has noted that you have spent much time by the young lady’s side these last few weeks.”

“Charity is an undemanding companion—nothing more, nothing less. I assure you, I am most certainly not a man in love.”

“Hmm, yes,” his father said, nodding as he rolled the glass thoughtfully between his palms. “It does beg the question, however.”

Why did Richard suddenly feel as though he were being baited? “And what question is that?” He took a swig of his whiskey, eyeing his father over the rim.

“Who was the girl I saw you dancing with in the park this morning?”

Richard promptly spit the whiskey all over his father’s desk. The marquis jerked backward in surprise. “Confound it,” he exclaimed, grabbing up the whiskey-dotted papers and waving them in the air.

“Apologies,” Richard said, snatching up the remaining papers and doing his best to dry them. “You surprised me.”

“Clearly,” Father responded, his tone as dry as tinder. He set the pages back down on the desk and retook his seat. “Though I doubt you were half as surprised as I this morning. Perhaps you’d wish to explain what the hell is going on.”

Richard stiffened in his chair. His father rarely, if ever, used such an officious tone with him. Richard was a grown man, certainly too old to be explaining his behavior to his parent like a wayward child. Besides, the marquis had never taken issue with his behavior before, not really. “Did you follow me?”

“Of course not. You forget that not all of us stay abed until noon. Hyde Park is the best I can do for a decent ride in this blasted city, and few people are in the park that time of the morning. Imagine my surprise to see my own son, dancing as though he hadn’t a care in the world with a certain raven-haired beauty.”

Well, blast, damn, bollocks and beer, how on earth had he fallen into such rotten luck? “She is indeed a beautiful woman.”

“Damn it, Richard, what is wrong with you? I certainly do hope you love her, because pulling a stunt like that could ruin a lady and land your neck squarely in the parson’s noose.”

“You can’t think I would have done such a thing with a lady of the
ton
, can you? Really, Father, I know well enough to avoid that sort of trap like the plague.”

“So she is your mistress, then? For God’s sake, Richard, show a little discretion. Your behavior reflects on the whole family.”

“She is not my mistress. She is merely a”—he fluttered his fingers in the air, trying to think of the right word—“pleasant distraction.” The words tasted bitter in his mouth as soon as he spoke them. Jane wasn’t some sort of distraction; she was so much more than he’d until that moment realized.

“A distraction.” Father said the word with distaste, the disappointment in his tone settling like a stone in Richard’s gut. “And what, exactly, do you need a distraction from? For years I have allowed you to do exactly as you pleased, because I wished for you to enjoy this time in your life. I wanted you to have the opportunity to find a wife and start a family without the weight of your future role as marquis weighing you down. But clearly all I have done is enabled you to live your life with a complete disregard for your future. And by the way, you may not have a care for how society views you, but you have one sister currently in the marriage mart, and two more who will be by next year. I will not have scandal attached to the good name of this family.”

Richard blew out a harsh breath, raking a hand through his hair. “I am well aware of my sisters’ situations.”

“Then why in God’s name were you cavorting with a light-skirts in the light of day in Hyde Park?”

“Have you never been carried away with a beautiful woman? Have you never done something ill-advised in the heat of the moment?” His fists clenched at his side with the need to defend Jane against his father’s derogatory term. It would only make matters worse if the marquis thought he was engaging in such foolish behavior with a decent woman.

Father pressed his lips together and blew out a long breath through flared nostrils. “All I am asking is that you have a care for your family’s reputation—not to mention your mother’s feelings. She has high hopes for you and Miss Effington. The thought of you making a match with not only a highly suitable lady, but also one whom she so thoroughly adores has her thrilled beyond measure. And, quite frankly, it would please me greatly as well. You settling down with such a delightful girl would be a huge burden off my mind. Hell, you settling down with
any
lady with even a halfway decent family and passable comportment would be a huge burden off my mind.”

Did his father really think of him as a burden? They had always gotten along together so well, Richard never imagined he was truly causing him worry. It didn’t sit well with him at all. “Why has this become such a bone of contention this Season? Has becoming a grandparent stirred thoughts of your mortality?”

Father nodded his head once. “Perhaps that is part of it. But it certainly isn’t all of it. Do you realize that as of my recent birthday, I am now officially older than my father was when he died, and his father before him?”

Richard shook his head. What a delightfully morbid conversation. It did at least afford a bit of insight as to where all of this hurry-up-and-marry talk was coming from.

“And truth be told, for the first time, I
feel
older. I want to see you—and by extension, the estate—settled. Sooner rather than later.”

The comment gave Richard pause, and he tilted his head as he regarded the marquis. “Father, are you unwell?”

The marquis sighed and shook his head. “No, I am not unwell. Merely aging.”

Relief loosened Richard’s clenched jaw. He offered a placating smile. “As are we all. Now, do please stop fretting about like an old woman and have a little faith in me. I solemnly promise to carry out my duties to the best of my ability, in the not-too-distant future.”

“You are my one and only heir, Richard. Even if I didn’t want to, I have to have faith in you. In the meantime, no more waltzes in the park, understood?”

Richard stood and saluted. “Your wish is my command.”

His father cracked his first smile since Richard walked in the door. “If only that were so.”

As Richard took his leave, his thoughts went fully to Jane. It felt as though he had let her down somehow by not standing up for her to his father. She was a beautiful, capable, sweet, and intelligent woman who had more than enough reason to distrust men like him. And yet . . . she trusted him enough to open both her heart and her mind to him.

His heart warmed at the thought.

She trusted him, and he didn’t wish to abuse that trust. From now on, for however long their mutual enjoyment of each other lasted, he vowed to treat her with the utmost respect.

The tinkle of feminine laughter echoed down the corridor, followed by the sound of one of Charity’s compositions. His normal pleasure at her presence was tempered by the knowledge that his mother was expecting something between them now, as opposed to merely hoping. He must tread carefully from now on if he wished to avoid any hurt feelings.

He couldn’t help but wonder if it was already too late.

“What on earth are you doing?”

Jane startled at the sound of her brother’s voice. Heaven only knew how long she’d been standing there, spatula in hand as she stared off in the distance, imagining all the things that could be in her near future. Heat rose up her cheeks at being caught with such scandalous thoughts in her head. She shot a look of nonchalance up at Weston where he stood at the top of the stairs. “Just taking a bit of a break. It’s been a long day.” Made longer by the fact that her rendezvous with Richard was only mere days away.

Concern clouded his eyes as he descended the stairs. “Are you certain? You look red as a tomato. I’d hate for you to be getting sick.”