Never Love a Scoundrel (32 page)

Defeat crushed the happiness Jason had felt just a short time ago. Had that really been tonight? In that moment he saw only Lydia before him, and felt as if he were hanging in limbo. “Is what she says true? Did you accept my proposal because you didn’t want to go home?”

Lydia glanced around. “Can we talk about this later? People are listening.”

Anger and hurt propelled him toward her. “I don’t give a damn if the Archbishop of Canterbury is here. This is between you and me.” He turned back toward the drawing room. “Everyone,
out
. The party is over.”

North appeared at his side. “My lord,” he said softly, but urgently, “why don’t you allow me to escort Miss Stroud and the others out? The party isn’t ruined.”

The hell it wasn’t. Everyone was staring at him with a mixture of disgust, fear, and pity. Tonight’s events would appear in every gossip column from here to Edinburgh. He was disgraced.
Again
. But he didn’t have to stand there and suffer it. He wanted them all gone.
Now
. “Why isn’t anyone moving?” he demanded.

People began to gravitate toward the foyer, North, Scot, and another footman ushering them along. Jason turned back toward Lydia, who’d moved away from the doorway so people could file through it. Her lips were pressed together and the pink had faded from her cheeks leaving her quite pale.

Margaret’s nauseating voice sounded beside him. “Marrying my great-niece won’t save you.” Her mouth lifted in a delighted smirk but then her eyes lit as Ethan moved past the departing guests and stepped into the drawing room. “Look everyone, Mr. Locke has arrived. And just as we’ve all been cast out.” She pretended to pout, then curved her lips into a slick smile. “I daresay Locke would make a better husband than his brother. No tainted blood from the mother, you know.”

Ethan hastened to Jason’s side. “Let her go,” he murmured.

Looking incredibly pleased with herself, Margaret sauntered by them toward Lydia. She took Lydia’s arm almost gently. “Come, dear, it’s time to go. I know it seems things are a mess right now, but no one will expect you to actually marry Lockwood. This proposal nonsense will be dismissed as the ravings of a madman.”

Lydia’s eyes were dark with regret.

Ethan tightened his grip. “Let her go too. You can fix this later.”

Jason threw his brother’s hand off his arm and glared at him. “You can leave with them.” With a final searing glance at Lydia, Jason stalked to his office and slammed the door. He went straight to the sideboard, but instead of pouring a drink, he swept the glasses and bottles to the floor.

His gaze landed on his half-cleared desk and he envisioned Lydia bent over it, as she was just a short time ago. Then he shoved everything atop it onto the floor.

The door opened, but Jason assumed it was one of his meddling retainers and didn’t turn to see who it was. “Not now.”

“Yes, now.” The door clicked shut.

Ethan.

How had Jason come to recognize his voice already? He threw him a furious glower. “I told you to leave.”

“I’m not very good at following directives.” His gaze took in the mess on the floor. “How in the hell are we supposed to have a drink now?”

“We aren’t.”

“Ah, well, I’m sure one of your men will bring some more. It’s not as if everyone couldn’t hear that you’d broken what sounded like an entire cabinet of wine.” Ethan picked his way over the broken glass and spilled liquor and assumed a position leaning against a bookcase. “Tell me why you threw everyone out.”

Jason stared at Ethan. Maybe he’d overestimated the man’s intelligence after all. “I should think it would be obvious.”

“No. Some courtesans showed up at your first normal party.” He shrugged. “Like you said, it was a mistake. You bundle the nude one up and send them all on their way. Everyone has a chuckle and then they eat dinner. Yes, there would be gossip, and yes, it wouldn’t be the party you’d hoped for, but really, Jason, what the bloody hell was your intent anyway?”

What
had
been his intent? He’d embarked on this silly foray into Society for the purposes of keeping up with his brother. Only, he didn’t need to do that anymore.

Then Lydia had asked him to host this party. She’d told him it would be good for him—and for her. And since he didn’t give a damn about where he fit into Society . . . He’d done it for her.

But he wasn’t going to tell Ethan that. If his brother could guard secrets, so could Jason. “It doesn’t matter. I meant what I said. I don’t care about any of them. The party was a ridiculous idea.”

Ethan shook his head. “It wasn’t. It’s just too bad you had to invite that bitch. But then I suppose you have to put up with her if you’re marrying her great-niece.”

Jason wasn’t sure that was going to happen after what he’d just done. In fact, if he were to place a wager, he’d say the odds were against him. “I doubt it will come to that.”

“Marrying her or tolerating the bitch? I hope you don’t mind, but I do believe that’s how I’m going to refer to your great-aunt-in-law.”

Jason wasn’t in the mood for Ethan’s humor. He wanted to be alone. With a drink. He looked at the shards of glass littering the floor and the whisky pooling around them. That was a problem.

“Jason?” Ethan snapped his fingers. “You’re really in a state.” He frowned. “Is this how you were after our fight?” he asked softly, his voice filled with remorse.

Jason looked at him then, the mere mention of that day rousing his anger once more. “No, it was much worse, but then you didn’t stay to find out. I’ve learned to manage my rage since then. You ought to be thankful because if I hadn’t, you’d resemble that lot.” He gestured to the debris.

Ethan slowly nodded. “I suppose shattered glass and ruined whisky are better than broken ribs.” He patted his chest.

Jason considered having another go at his brother’s nose. “You deserved those broken ribs.”

“I did.” His voice dipped. “But you didn’t deserve what happened to your face. Or your reputation. If I could go back to that day and change it all, I would.”

Jason wasn’t feeling brotherly or sympathetic. “Why, because then you wouldn’t be in your current mess?”

Ethan’s eyes narrowed. “There’s no need to be a jackass. I can’t change what happened seven years ago, but I can help you now.”

What a bloody hypocrite. “And I’m just supposed to let you do that when you’ll scarcely allow me to do the same?”

Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. “Maybe it’s because I owe you more than you owe me. Now, what are you going to do to fix this cocked-up party?”

“Not a damn thing. It’s over.”

“I mean,” he said, raising his infernal eyebrow, “what are you going to do to set things right with Lydia? There was a moment in which everyone present was deciding whether you were a reformed reprobate or a genuine scoundrel—and you announced your engagement to a young woman who clearly gives a shit what Society thinks.”

The uneasiness he’d felt earlier in the drawing room after revealing their engagement grew into full-blown apprehension—and regret—as he realized what he’d done. Jason sat on the edge of his desk. “She’s not ruined—at least not by that. No one would fault her for not marrying me. In fact, she’ll weather the entire debacle just fine if she does what her aunt suggested and says there was no engagement at all, that I’m simply a blathering lunatic.” He slammed his fist on the desk, furious with Margaret’s meddling. “Dammit, I was trying to show Lydia that I wanted her, not Cora.”

Ethan dropped his arms, his expression grim. “I understand, but your timing was atrocious.”

Jason stared at the detritus on the floor. He’d lost control again. Maybe not as badly as seven years ago, but his performance in the drawing room wasn’t going to change any opinions about him.

Except for one.

He’d devastated the one person who’d wanted to see him succeed, who’d put her faith in him. And that made him feel like a failure more than anything else he’d ever done. What’s more, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it right.

Then, just as he’d feared, just as he’d guarded against all these years, his heart cracked into pieces as jagged and varied as the glass cluttering his floor.

LYDIA WOULD
have hid in her bedchamber all of the following day, but Aunt Margaret had demanded her presence at the midday meal. Lydia was already seated when her aunt bustled into the room wearing a pinched expression.

“There you are at last! You’re such a coward—you can’t bury your face beneath your pillows. You’re more popular than ever, which is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it?” The question could have been phrased many ways, but Aunt Margaret delivered it with a healthy dose of venom.

Lydia scowled at her, seeing no reason to pretend she felt anything but loathing for the woman who’d been her guardian. “You know I didn’t.” She’d wanted to be liked and accepted, not pitied as the fiancée of a madman or derided as the fiancée of a blackguard.

Aunt Margaret took her chair at the table, and the footman began to serve their luncheon. “Well, as I said last night, you’ve certainly decided to shackle yourself to the wrong fellow.”

Upon leaving Lockwood House, Aunt Margaret had spent the entire coach ride home raving about her success and Lydia’s foolishness. Lydia had done her best to ignore her, which hadn’t been too difficult with Jason’s outrageous behavior haunting her memory.

Lydia wondered if she could ignore her again today and intended to find out.

However, that didn’t stop Aunt Margaret from continuing to rant. “Fortunately you have me to save you from the mess you made. No one expects you to marry Lockwood, especially not now.”

Because his actions last night had “proved” he was at least a scoundrel and perhaps a little bit mad. Lydia had spent half the night trying to decide if she ought to marry him or not. She had fallen in love with him, but if he meant to continue his ribald lifestyle after they were wed, she couldn’t endure it.

She couldn’t make a final decision until after she explained that her father recalling her home was irrelevant to her accepting his marriage proposal. And he had to explain . . . well, quite a lot. She understood why he’d become so angry—Aunt Margaret had done everything in her power to provoke him—but he’d bungled things horribly. What did he expect her to do now? Meekly follow him to the altar with all of London ridiculing her? Maybe he didn’t care about his reputation, but she did. A life on the fringe would be no life at all. Even Audrey would have to discontinue their friendship.

“Though you failed to help ruin his party, I’ll offer you another chance to remain in London.” Aunt Margaret eyed her skeptically. “If you throw Lockwood over, I’ll convince your father to let you stay here.”

Another devil’s bargain. “So if I cry off, you won’t care that I don’t want to help you gossip any longer?”

Aunt Margaret twisted her lips in a manner that demonstrated more disgust than disappointment. “If it means the complete ruination of that crazy scoundrel, yes.”

Then, because Lydia could think of no reason to censor herself, she simply let go of the emotions she’d held inside for so long. “How could you do that to him? His life was ruined seven years ago—and you played no small part in that by continually badgering his mother. You’ve done the same to him at every opportunity over the past weeks. What did he ever do to you? Not his father, not his mother,
him
. You’re carrying on a feud that doesn’t need to exist. I can only imagine you’re doing it for the simple pleasure of watching others be humiliated.” She recalled the conversation she’d had with Jason in the billiards room at Lockwood House about people needing to watch others in pain and decided her aunt was simply. . . sick.

Margaret set her fork beside her plate. “When you’ve been brought as low as I was, you want to see those responsible share in your suffering. And that includes those they hold most dear. Revenge isn’t pretty, Lydia, but it is very, very satisfying.” She stood up from the table. “So what will you do, break Lockwood’s heart or run away to obscurity?”

Hopefully there was a third choice where she and Jason resolved things and married. How Lydia would love to see Aunt Margaret’s face if that happened. In the meantime, she’d put her off. “I don’t know.”

Aunt Margaret pursed her lips, and as if she could read Lydia’s mind, said, “Don’t be stupid and think to marry him anyway. Mark my words, he’s as mad as his mother. Outbursts like the one he had last night preceded her mental collapse. It’s only a matter of time before he follows suit.” The relish in her tone was palpable.

Jason had been provoked—by Aunt Margaret. Lydia had to wonder if her aunt had also provoked Lady Lockwood’s outbursts. She claimed not to know what had pushed Lady Lockwood over the edge at that dinner party, but Lydia was suddenly certain it had been Aunt Margaret’s taunts and innuendos.

Aunt Margaret exhaled and then clucked her tongue. “You likely find me heartless, but really Lydia, having a heart will only cause you sorrow.” She turned and departed.

The footman swept up the dishes, and Lydia, her mind overrun with thoughts, meandered from the table to the adjoining drawing room. She went to the windows and looked at the small terrace and garden behind the house.