Scandal at Vauxhall (Pleasure Garden Follies) (6 page)

“The honor is
all mine, My Lord.”

Nathaniel tucked
her arm into his as they strode to the reception desk, the footman behind them
with their trunks. And now began the arduous task of damage control. They both
needed a miracle to survive the next few days.

* * * *

The hotel’s
servants were quick in getting Nathaniel settled. His valet, Evans, managed to
get his things in order and even saw to it that he was not disturbed by tedious
troubles. Setting the quill down and blowing a quick breath on the drying ink,
he re-read his missive.

Bartholomew,
follow these instructions with haste and be sure you keep with the utmost
discretion.

It
has come to my attention that the Duke of Downsbury holds a particular interest
in acquiring the estate of His Lordship, the late Duke of Brimley. I would like
you to find out exactly what he is after, his debts, his and his duchess’s
coming and goings, and anything else that might be of use.

You
should also be aware that he may sell information to the daily of a recent
dalliance I have had.

Please
notify me most urgently should anything appear. A certain respectable lady’s
reputation is at risk. She has already been through far too much grief for me
to allow any further damage to press.

~N.S.

Excellent.
Now all he had to do was sit back and wait for society to unleash its wicked
forked tongues and wreak havoc. Nathaniel suspected he would not have to wait
long before his secretary replied.

“Evans! Come
quickly.”

His valet
attended, standing rigid, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Be sure this is
sent to my secretary of affairs, Bartholomew Winters, by express. It is
imperative that he receives this tonight.”

“Absolutely,
sir. I shall see to it right away.”

Upon
second thought…
He rose from the desk. “One more thing.
Evans, has there been any movement from Her Grace’s room?”

Evans smirked. “None,
sir. As far as I know, things have been quiet since her dinner was served in
her rooms.”

“Very well. Now,
be gone.”

Lost in deep
thought over their indiscretions, Nathaniel pondered what Downsbury stood to
gain from blackmailing them. He would have to be in a bad way financially to
risk any kind of exposure into his affairs.

Taking a swig of
his brandy, Nathaniel returned to the desk to pen another note, this time to
his estate. His staff could use the time to prepare the manor for the
arrival—hopefully—of a new mistress. However, his mother ran the house with
such fluidity that no stone was left unturned.

When he was
young, no child was put to bed without her love and affection, and everything
was left in a state in which his father would be pleased. The late Marquess of
Stoughton had provided a firm hand in assisting his mother. But for the most
part, the man had participated in most of the games he and his siblings played.

One day he
aspired to be just like his father. Have a slew of children running through the
estate, Isabel chasing after them and hosting parties and tea. There was not a
dream about his future that did not include her. Isabel inspired him daily to
be the very best he could. If it were not for his fond memories of her, he
might have not made it back to England in one piece. Yes, soon her grace would
be the matron of his family’s estate.

Nathaniel stood
staring aimlessly at the fireplace for what seemed hours, pouring over his
thoughts of what was in store for them, before deciding to check on her
ladyship.
How will my family react to her
becoming my wife?
Surely his sister wouldn’t mind in the least having
someone closer to her eighteen years to converse with, but his mother…his
mother would take to the vapors once she heard.

She
will simply have to make do with my decision.

* * * *

“Excuse me,
miss.”

The young lass
entered, with a shy blush sweeping across the bridge of her nose. “Your Grace.”

“Fetch me my
dressing gown, and you may leave for the evening. I have no intention of
entertaining this evening.”

“But, Your Grace—”

“No need to
worry, my dear. I’m not an invalid, nor a crone in need of assistance. Enjoy
your evening. I assure you, I will be in perfect health tomorrow. I promise.”

Without the bat
of an eyelash, the young maid retrieved her gown and held it out while Isabel
stepped from the cool bath water.

Since their
arrival in Bath, she had wondered how long it would be before Nathaniel joined
her. Yet the overbearing man had avoided her since escorting her to the elegant
suite. What could possibly be keeping him from visiting, tending to her needs?
From the moment he had laid her upon the park green and fondled her in the most
loving and sinful ways, she had burned for him.

Dampness pooled
between her thighs from thinking of those delicious moments. She ached to have
him buried deep within her, driving himself in until the only thing she could
see were heavenly constellations. Both would be coated in sweat and their
release, biding their time until need drove them into an all-consuming lust.

Damnation!
Of all the men to drive her to distraction. Only six months had passed since
her husband’s death. Their connection was a scandalous one, and no matter how
she tried to imagine things working out in the end, the situation would not resolve
amiably. Either she would be exiled from the
haute ton
, or Nathaniel would be cast out from the House of Lords.
Inevitably, their dalliance would have to stop, quickly and quietly.

Isabelle sat by
the fire, brushing her hair dry, running through her mind what to tell him. If
the determination burning in his eyes at the gardens gave any clue, Nathaniel was
a man used to getting his way. He would not simply accept that she was not
interested in pursuing this relationship of theirs any further. No, Nathaniel
would see to it that he did his duty, marry her to preserve his family’s good
name.

Good
grief, his family. What would they think of this mess?

A gentle knock
at the door startled her. Isabel set down her brush and craned her neck to get
a view of who would enter. However, from where she was seated, she could only
see the sitting room.

“Enter,” she
called out, pushing away from the vanity and walked toward the entrance to her
apartments. “Did you forget something, young lady? I am sure I gave you my
utmost assurance that I will be fine for the remainder of the evening.”

Isabel adjusted
the wrapping of her robe without so much as glancing up, stumbling into a wall
of muscle, sweetly-scented and familiar.

“And I am
positively convinced you should have someone with you, myself excluded, of
course,” Nathaniel drawled, making her stomach flutter with excitement and
nervousness. He lifted her chin with his fingers until their eyes met. His gaze
penetrated her soul, right down to her core, promising so much more than what
she had already tasted.

“But excluding
you would take all the fun out of this trip, My Lord.”

He smirked and
stepped back. “I trust you had an agreeable dinner?”

“I did indeed, My
Lord.”

Nathaniel walked
past her toward the fireplace and adjusted the logs to make room for more.
“That should keep you cozy until morning. In the meanwhile, your companions are
set to arrive later tonight, and I hope to enjoy breakfast with all of you. Now,
I suggest you get on to bed, and I will get back to securing our future, Your Ladyship.”

He deliberately
swatted her derriere. While she did not understand what he meant about securing
her future, she had to find a way to talk to him before he made any plans.
However, before she could even speak to him about quitting this nonsense, he
had left her apartment with but a shred of hope. She had to stop him before
they made even bigger fools out of themselves.

When her trip to
Bath concluded and she returned to London, she would have to contact Henry’s
solicitors to confirm if the Duke of Downsbury had any claim to her husband’s
estate. Though that would be difficult, as her husband’s barrister had a
notorious reputation for not wanting to deal with women.

Their last
discussion had been via post, to disclose her inheritance—albeit a minimal one,
but one that would permit her to continue living in her present residence with
pin money to last for several years.

Isabel had never
been one for grand expenditures, nor did she lavish in spending her husband’s
money. Henry had made most of his fortune in gambling and seizing debts.
Is it possible Henry owed Downsbury? Where
would I go if Downsbury is found in favor with the justice?

Isabel quivered,
knowing all too well she would be fortunate enough if she ended up in some
dowager’s house. Though, she had managed to save a small fortune of her pin
money so that she could purchase her own cottage—nothing too grand, nor would
she keep the full stock of staff.

Perhaps this was
the change she needed to move forward. Once she returned to London, she would
send out inquiries to see if there were any country homes for purchase and
permanently move out of London.

Nathaniel was
bound to be cross with her, but she needed to put distance between the two of
them if either wanted some semblance of peace.

Nathaniel
blinked furiously at the stream of sunlight concentrating on his face. His head
throbbed from the bottle of brandy he had indulged in. How else was he supposed
to keep clear from Isabel until the issue with Downsbury was resolved? All this
scandal was ruinous to everyone it touched.

He desired
nothing more than to drag her into his suite and make sweet, passionate love to
her, over and over until neither of them was conscious. The distance between
them killed him.

Nathaniel
fumbled with his sheet and promptly covered his head with the blasted thing.
Waking up alone in bed was bad enough, but when having numerous dreams of
Isabel over the course of the night left him as rigid as granite, there was
only but one way to resolve the issue.

Before he could
even take matters into his own palm, a harsh knock on the door came, followed
by footsteps into his bedchamber.

“My Lord,
forgive the intrusion. You need to see this right away!” the valet fumbled with
a rolled up paper in his hands.

Nathaniel sat up
with haste, the sheet falling away, exposing his nudity. He reached out to
accept the daily, unfolded it, and groaned at the headline.

Scandal
At Vauxhall.

He could not
help but read further.

Reliable
resources indicate that over the course of last weekend’s festivities, her grace,
Lady I., was found in quite the scandalous and compromising position at the
Pleasure Gardens with Lord S. It is speculated whether the affair had been
ongoing prior to his grace’s demise. To think his wife would go against all
decorum and be so bold. I daresay, ladies, you shall not want your daughters in
such company. Keep a close eye on your girls, and prohibit any interaction and
affiliation with either of them. Trouble and scandal follow them as second
nature, and the season is far from over. Be on your guard.

Nathaniel
pinched the bridge of his nose, sucking in a long, deep breath.
How am I ever going to explain this to
Isabel, let alone to my associates?
Not that his associates would care. In
fact, he would not be surprised if they applauded him for his indiscretion
making the front page.

However, the
article was another matter entirely. He had hoped to make her his wife before
the year was out, but at the rate the gossips ran in London, he would have to
procure a special license before the end of the week.

First, he would
source out where the information came from and have a letter of apology
published in lieu of the damaging post. And then attempt to provide damage
control upon his next visit to the House of Lords. He would need to have an
explanation regarding the situation. Yet to ascertain how exactly they would
react, Nathaniel could not be sure. And to be frank, he could not care less on
what they had to say on the matter.

“Evans, get my
things together and have my coach readied. We leave within the hour.”
Bartholomew better have started the investigation.
Things are about to get even busier for the poor man.

“But, My Lord—”

“There are no
buts, Evans. It is imperative that we be on our way. I must speak with her
grace immediately.”

Nathaniel
stalked toward the washstand without haste and inhaled deeply.
I will succeed, and we will overcome this.
Why did they not teach in school how to
deal with delivering ill-timed and embarrassing news?
’Twas a good thing
her friends had arrived earlier this morning. He could not bear the thought of
leaving her alone until these shenanigans were put to a stop.

* * * *

Isabel, already
dressed and waiting in the morning room of her apartments, reminisced over the
last few days. Cecily and Robert would join her soon, but she had enough time
to enjoy her first morning tea at her leisure.

In another day
or so, she would return to London and begin the stressful, yet mandatory, steps
to procure her safety and secure her future. In the end, her title meant
nothing to her. She had married the duke at the hands of her parents. And while
her papa had been a baron living as a wealthy merchant and spared no expense in
pushing her into the elevated circles, nothing about the extravagance had won
her over.

What
is the point of being happy with pretty baubles and residing in an enormous
estate without a husband or children?
The only difference
was that now she could choose to live alone, against the odds and the world, it
seemed.

Nevertheless,
the thought of Nathaniel’s touch and how he made her feel alive washed over her
and settled deep within her soul. There was no point in denying the magic he
held over her. Wanted. Sensual. A woman. Since that ill-fated night at Lord and
Lady Broxton’s ball, the way he held her hand, escorting to the ballroom, he
had opened the floodgates that once kept her memories locked away.

Perhaps in
another lifetime, she had told herself nightly. He had vowed they would be
together again, renewing their love for each other. And in that other lifetime,
she would cherish him and be the woman he wanted.

About to pour a
cup of tea, Isabel heard heavy footsteps entering her chambers. “What in God’s
name is going on here? Whoever it is, your manners are—” Isabel spun on her heels
and found Nathaniel standing only a few feet away.

“I apologize for
the early call, Your Grace, but this simply could not wait.” His stance was
rigid, his jaw set, and his lips formed a thin line.
The man looks positively grim.

He passed her
the daily, and she read the headline.
Good
Lord! And so it begins. Who? How? Why? Downsbury!

“I will be
heading into London for damage control. I think it would be best if Your Grace
continued your stay in Bath. I will write to you as soon as things have been
resolved.”

Her eyes welled
up with tears, and her hands shook. The room suddenly did not feel large enough
for both of them. “Nathaniel, you cannot mean to handle this situation
yourself? You are ruined as it stands. This…The House of Lords will have your
access declined!”

They were
surrounded by madness. Downsbury’s determination to tarnish their reputation,
all in the name of getting money—or whatever he was owed—would cost them
everything. Her husband’s gambling had been a wretched waste of time, bringing
nothing but heartache and grief into their lives.

More footsteps
entered, alerting them that they were no longer alone.

He tipped her
chin up. “I promise, Isabel, I will fix this.”

Before she could
respond, he kissed her hard, passionately, and with the promise of his return. He
stormed out the door, not glancing back. The voices of Cecily and Robert Turner
pulled her back into reality.

“Isabel?”

“Your Grace.”

“What in the
world is with the chaos outside? Is the
marquess
really leaving?

“He is.” Without
disclosing much more, she handed her friend the daily, observing her pale at
reading the headline.

“Is it true? Oh,
wait, please do not answer that. This is rather all too shocking and exciting
all at once.”

“Would you be
quiet, Cecily, and give me that.” Even Robert winced. “Cecily, how could you
say such a thing? Can you not tell how grievous this situation is?” His
quizzical gaze returned to Isabel. “Your Grace, how may I be of service? While
I am new as a solicitor and have not had the opportunity to develop meaningful
contacts, my employer might be able to assist in some damage control, or at least
offer some advice on how to proceed.”

Though hiring
her own solicitor would be perfect, the last thing she desired to do was create
a larger problem for Nathaniel to fix. Instead, Isabel sat on the dais,
defeated.

“Your offer is
too kind, Robert, but I must regretfully decline. The Marquess of Stoughton has
offered to investigate. I think it would be best to allow him to continue in
his efforts.” She heaved a sigh, knowing her next statement would take even more
willpower. “I think the best thing I can do is stay here for a few days and
then return to London. I completely understand if you remove yourselves from my
company during this time of speculation.”

“Absolutely
not!” Cecily cried and childishly stomped her foot. “After what we have all
been through, I will not leave you like this.”

Robert’s offer
had been generous, but if too many people outside of the scandal involved
themselves, the likelihood grew for the situation to get further out of
control. Robert desperately needed to get Cecily as far away as possible. “Think
about it, Robert. If you let her stay here, this could potentially ruin any
chance for her to marry well. Then what will you do? Support a sister who is a
spinster as a result from being associated with the likes of me?”

The sadness in
his eyes was her acknowledgement that he understood and agreed. There was no
use in ruining two innocent lives over this foolish behavior by the duke.

“Cecily, her
grace is correct. If we stay here, what do you think will become of your
season? We simply cannot afford any scandals.” He returned his attention to Isabel.
“Your Grace, I’d like to request a private audience with you.”

“Robert,
whatever you wish to say, you may do so now. The longer you tarry, the more
people will speculate.”

“As you wish.” He
cast a wary glance to his sister then began. “We have known each other a long
time now, and while I do not have much to offer, if you came back to London
with me, I would make a decent husband. I earn an honest living, and while I do
not live extravagantly, I think I could make you happy.”

Isabel’s heart
broke, knowing that she had to reject his offer. She would only give up her
independence for one person, and right now, that person was knee deep in this scandal.

“Robert, please.
Not another word. I will not have you waste your life on a mistake I have made
on a whim. Besides, you deserve someone who is sincere and loving and
respectable. I have no doubt you will find that lady one of these days.”

“Very well, Your
Grace, I will leave you for now, but my offer will stand. I will stop by the
townhouse in a couple of days to check in. We will discuss this more once you
have had a moment to recover from your travels.”

He bowed then
led Cecily out of the room. Isabel’s stomach flipped with unease, and she wished
for her company to stay along with her. But sometimes the proper thing to do
was to let things go. And she would have to do just that when she left London
permanently. The coming days would be challenging, and once she set foot in
London, life would become even more difficult.

* * * *

Nathaniel rode
hard, not stopping once. By the time he reached his estate, his man of affairs
was already there, deep in discussion with an unfamiliar gent and his old
university friend Lord Avonlea.
Why would
he be here?

“So nice of you
to join us, My Lord. This will be Marcus Williamson, a runner from Bow Street,
and Lord Avonlea you already know.”

“To what do I
owe this visit?” Nathaniel reached out to shake the Mr. Williamson’s hand.

“A pleasure to
meet you, my lord. It would seem we have a bit of a problem. There are rumors
of the unsavory kind that the Duke of Downsbury is heavily in gambling debt.
There are also whispers that there is a bounty on him, should he not pay by
week’s end.

“Then, in the
middle of my investigation, your man here found me and wanted me to look into a
potential extortion case. Lo and behold, it is about the same gent I am working
for. I will not lie. I find the accusations of extortion entirely false, yet
given the dire straits in which the duke finds himself, we are going to have to
find a way to resolve this quickly. Preferably before we find a body floating
along the Thames.”

Nathaniel’s felt
his lips twitch at the image.
Hmm…so now
Bow Street is involved. And yet, not one word is mentioned about the gossip
rags.

Surprisingly,
Avonlea spoke up, and not so unexpectedly, out of turn. “Or my thought is this—protect
the Duchess of Brimley and let the cad fight his own battles. If the duke perishes,
then it is of his own negligence and irresponsibility.”

Avonlea did
raise a good point, but he could not publicly agree without sounding
unsympathetic. Well, not until this debacle was resolved. If Bow Street runners
were already investigating death threats against the duke, then maybe there was
an alternative way to rein him in and leave Isabel out of this.

“Mr. Williamson,
I dare say, the gambling
hells
are usually the first
place where gossip of who owes who becomes public knowledge. Just how much in
debt is the duke?”

“My Lord, you
know very well that I am not in the position to divulge that information so
freely. I can, however, be persuaded…”

Brilliant.
On top of a sticky situation, he was dealing with a crooked runner. “I mean no
offense, Mr. Williamson, but I think I can use my own resources to get the
information. I imagine Downsbury is already paying handsomely, not including
your existing wages with the office.”