Scandal at Vauxhall (Pleasure Garden Follies) (7 page)

“Do not think
for a moment about interfering in my investigation, Lord Thompson. If you so
much as stick your nose where it does not belong, I will beat that bloody smirk
from your face, and have you incarcerated and declared an accessory to the
threats. And for
a gent
in your position—after the
gossip column—that would be considered suspicious and damaging to what remains
of your reputation.”

Avonlea snorted
behind them. He knew all too well that Nathaniel of all people did not respond
to intimidations. Not even the Bow Street office would be able to hold him back
if he decided to set the record straight with this crooked little bastard.

Cowardly, Mr.
Williamson decided to leave and backed away. “This is not over, gentlemen!”

No,
it is not. Not by a long shot.

“My Lord,
forgive my impertinence, but that did not go very well at all,” Bartholomew
mumbled.

“I suppose it
did not,” Nathaniel quipped. “Gentlemen, why don’t we go indoors and discuss
this further? I could use a drink and a moment to sit down.”

The three men
walked in the front doors, and there stood his butler, completely unhinged. “Master
Thompson, the dowager countess is waiting for you in the parlor. She was
adamant that she would not leave until she saw you. She has not stopped barking
orders, nor has she ceased in expressing her displeasure with the décor. She
keeps going on about an engagement party.”

His man of
affairs and Avonlea chuckled loudly and offered to wait for him in the library.

“Do not fret,
old friend. I happen to like the décor, and I will see to setting her in her
place.” Nathaniel quipped with a smile.

Good
Lord, what could the woman want?
He had only been in town
for a few minutes, and he had already managed to chase off a Bow Street Runner and
now, he must do the same with his meddling mother. Such luck he had. And if he
knew her right, she had already read the daily.

Entering the
parlor, Nathaniel found his mother pacing to and fro, by the window. He slowly
crossed the hall and poured himself some port at the sideboard. “Would you care
for some, ma’am?”

“
Hurumph
! You know very well, Nathaniel, I will not drink
that. ’Twas what ruined your father, and I will not have the same thing happen
to you.”

“What are you
going on about now, Mother? Father drank in the evening when he played cards
with his chums.”

“Or when he was
with his mistress. You know, with each day that passes, I see more of him in
you. For instance,”—she tossed the paper at him and continued her rant—“is that
what really happened, or did she convince you to do worse?”

She had heard all
right—the most scandalous and butchered version of events.

“No, it did not
happen like this. And for the record, I love her. Were it not for her parents
passing her off to the Duke of Brimley, she would have been my wife the moment
I returned to London.” He wandered the room, ignoring the dowager still sitting
in his favorite chair, looking regal but possessed. “Yes, we had an
indiscretion, and it was completely my fault. Had I just waited until we were
married, none of this would have happened.”

“Married?” the
middle-aged woman croaked.

“Yes, Mother.
Married.”

“That trollop’s
husband has not even been dead cold in the ground for a year, and you are going
to marry her? I will not stand for it. Your sister’s reputation depends on you
doing the honorable thing now. Discard any notion of marrying
her
this instant. Find yourself a
respectable bride, or I will.”

“No.” Nathaniel
clenched his fists to keep himself from throwing a nearby object.

“No? You are
mad, Nathaniel!” the crone shrieked.

“I am not, and I
will not tolerate you throwing more insults my way. If you are quite done,
please see yourself out. Do not make any attempt to create more havoc than what
already exists, or you can be sure I will make you pay.”

“You would make
your only sister pay for your sins? You tread on dangerous ground, Nathaniel.
You may be the Marquess of Stoughton and can flaunt your power and prowess
around, but I assure you, this is not the last of this conversation.”

He dragged his
hands through his hair and held his breath for a few moments.
Just what is it with everyone today, wanting
to have the last word with me?
He crossed the room before glancing back. “I
trust you can see yourself out.”

Storming down
the hall, he entered the library, slamming the door behind him. He took a seat
across from both men by the fireplace and stared into the flames. “Well,
gentlemen, it would appear that we will have to take things into our own hands.
Though, I am surprised by your presence here, Avonlea. What is amiss?”

“Life has been
dreadfully boring abroad, not to mention a certain widow keeps following me
around. I have no desire to get wrapped up with money-grubbing widows. If I
wanted a fancy lady who would cost me a pretty penny, I would much rather find
the most extravagant courtesan to spend my money on and still leave with my
cock attached.”

Ah!
There is that randy sense of humor that I knew of back in Oxford.
“You
don’t say. Well now that you are back, you should check out Madame Martine’s
establishment. I hear they are quite reputable, and if I am not mistaken, you
will probably see an old chap or two from school. All hiding from the doting
mothers at the season’s balls.”

“No doubt.”

“So, what is
first on the agenda?” Avonlea asked, his fingers tapping the arm of his chair.

“Finding out how
much the duke owes, and whatever else we can find out. Bartholomew, I would
like you to dig into the family’s history, and the comings and goings of him
and his wife. There could be more trouble at the home front. Something we could
use against him. Avonlea and I will visit White’s and Barnaby’s this evening. I
would not mind finding out just how much in trouble the cad is in.”

He grinned.
Maybe even torment the bastard a bit….

Nathaniel walked
into White’s expecting a full house, but found only every other table filled.
None of the men were recognizable, until one called out to him from a side
room.

“Lord Thompson!
We were just discussing you,” Lord
Ashbrooke
announced. “Come and have a drink with us, so you may settle a slight
disagreement.”

Nathaniel winced
yet accepted the man’s invitation, coming to the instantaneous realization that
other members from the House of Lords would be present and would no doubt
question the column in the post.

Of
all the times for them to call me over.
He filled with
trepidation, but the quicker he finished with them, the faster he could inquire
into the books and bets previously made against Brimley and Downsbury. He did
not doubt the bets were vastly amusing, though he remained troubled by what he
might find in there about his dowager duchess.

He entered the
private area with skepticism and sat next to
Ashbrooke
.
“So what kind of clash of opinions are you gents having this evening?”

The Earl of
Sheffield coughed hoarsely, pausing to take a swig of his port. “If you would
be kind enough to declare what the daily has posted is nothing more than an
idle rumor, then you are free to carry about your evening.”

“Gentlemen,
while I do not feel the need to justify everything I do, what I will say is
what the daily posted is not entirely true. But it is not false either. Yes, I
was with her grace that afternoon. Nevertheless, I fail to understand how it is
anyone’s business.”

“Do you mean to
say the two of you were caught alone, in a compromising situation? Or was this
a planned outing blown out of proportion by a jealous suitor or female
competition?”

Nathaniel shook
his head in disbelief. “The outing was planned, and I hardly see what business
that is of Parliament’s.”

Ashbrooke
slammed his fist down. “There you have it, men! The dowager duchess did not
wait a full year. Fifty guineas say, before the year is out, she will be a
mistress.”

What
in damnation…
“Just hold on a moment there,
Ashbrooke
.” Nathaniel vibrated and strained against the
natural instinct to lunge at the Earl and beat him senseless. He had expected
this behavior and nothing more, yet the mention of Isabel reducing herself to
someone’s mistress boiled his blood.

He gripped the
table and rose. “I’ll not sit here and be a party to such nonsense. Her grace
will serve as no one’s mistress, and she deserves far more respect than you are
granting her. If there is more talk of anyone expressing an interest in
pursuing her, consider this a warning. I will call out anyone who dares touch
what is mine. Her Grace will be my marchioness. Mine. Am I understood?”

“Settle down,
Thompson. I speak on behalf of everyone here when I say that no one will pursue
her. Nevertheless, she is marred by her husband’s scandal. He owed a great deal
to the Duke of Downsbury, especially the deed to his country estate.

“The greater
issue is that Brimley is rumored to have fathered the child that the Duchess of
Downsbury now carries. The books are betting how long before Downsbury sends
his wife into the country and puts the child up in an orphanage. Others say it
is only a matter of time before she is shipped off to the continent.”

Christ.
There has to be more to this story than what
Ashbrooke
is saying.
“Is there anything else I should know
about Downsbury’s troubles, gentlemen?”

“Well, other
than your mother confiding in my wife that you and Lady Eloise Morton will be
married by year’s end? I should tell you, several hundred pounds have already
been placed in favor of the match. She is quite fetching, too, do you not
think?”

Nathaniel
pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course my mother would feed such nonsense
to the wolves… No offense,
Ashbrooke
.”

The Earl raised
his hands and chuckled heartily. “I’ll be the first to admit my wife is
dedicated to the pursuit of gossip. More often than not, finding herself in
more trouble than necessary.”

“Gents, this has
been a most enlightening discussion, but I must be going. I have other
engagements requiring my immediate attention.”

Nathaniel walked
away annoyed, yet amused, at how easily he came across the information he
required. Though some of the bets made were not in the least bit pleasant, he
enjoyed that the men could at least discuss them with some civility. However, none
of the talk did anything to reduce his anger. He could not shake the disgust of
the men betting on Isabel becoming someone’s mistress. If one thing was
certain, the only mistress she would be was over Stoughton Manor and his
children.

* * * *

Isabel cocked
her head to the side, observing the exasperated expression on her butler’s
face. She had only been home for an hour when callers began showing up. With
each visitor, he politely turned away the lords and ladies calling. They had
all read the gossip columns, and she could only imagine the bets running around
in White’s about who would bed her next.

Henry
must be turning in his grave
. Not only had she
succeeded in further disgracing his family name, but she had managed to embroil
and embarrass another prominent household in the process.

“What is it this
time, Edmonds?”

“I have come to
give you an accounting of the visitors thus far—that is, if you are ready, Your
Grace?”

She chuckled.
“Do not just stand there, go on.”

“Lord and Lady Broxton
arrived inquiring about your health. Mr. and Miss Turner also stopped by, as
did Lords Avery,
Banham
, and Stokes. Oh, yes, a Lady
Eloise Morton also came around. She was quite put out when I made it clear she
would not be received.” Edmonds bowed. “Is there anything I can get you, Your
Grace?”

“That will be
all, Edmonds.”

He bowed and
quickly left her in peace.

Good
grief.
Overnight, her life had turned into a tragedy. Bad
decisions, lustful temptations, and the uncanny habit of landing herself in a
world of trouble seemed to be her calling in life. Not only was she doomed to
be kicked out of her estate, she would not be entirely surprised if she acquired
offers to become a mistress to some of the peerage. She sighed.
Why did the name Eloise sounded so familiar?
Ah! Yes, that damned woman the dowager countess desires her son to marry.

Her housekeeper
barreled into the room, huffing and puffing, vibrating with what seemed to be
excitement. The floor boards shook, and her silver brush rattled on its
mirrored tray. “Your Grace, he is here!” She wrung her hands and stood on her
toes, excitement plastered all over her face.

“Who is here?”

“The
marquess
. Who else would come? He is looking even more
dapper than usual, too.”

“I will be right
down. Please make sure Edmonds sees to his comfort until I have made myself
right.” Her heart fluttered. But the fact that her hair was still disheveled
from removing her hat, and the fatigue of stress had irritated her usually clear
complexion annoyed her so. She changed into comfortable satin slippers, pinched
her cheeks until they were rosy, tucked away a few loose strands of hair, and
prepared herself.

The last few
days had been awkward and lonely, not being able to speak with him. During
these emotional times, she wondered just how sincere and committed he was to
her cause. Alone, in a time where most people would have thrived on company,
the solitude provided her with a much-needed pause from life. Yet, she had
missed Nathaniel terribly.

Once upon a
time, she had worshipped the ground he walked on, envied his ability to
experience freedom away from this pretentious society. And while serving the
war office was no pleasant adventure, he had still managed to see the world and
experience it very differently. While he never married, she suspected he had thwarted
life-threatening situations and did what he must for his country, no matter how
insidious the actions may be perceived by a lady.

In the end, she had
come to terms with and accepted the cards they were dealt. She went on to marry
a philanderer, who wound up beaten at his own game. And Nathaniel now pursued
her once again, much to her chagrin.

“To what do I
owe this pleasure, My Lord?” she said, walking downstairs.
I wonder what news he brings. The debt is probably larger than what I
originally expected.
“I honestly did not think you would return, as I have
not received any word from you in well over a week.” She studied Nathaniel as
he stood guard by the window, rigid and watching the driveway.

He turned to
face her, leaning against the sill. “I have come to take you for a drive so that
we can discuss my findings and come to an understanding about a few things.”

“Honestly,
Nathaniel, I am tired. I have only just arrived, and I am in no mood to argue
nor contemplate a fantasy future with you, let alone go for a drive. Can we
talk about such things here?”

His face
reddened. “Like hell!” He spun on his heels and strode toward her, closing the
space between them in seconds. He reached for her wrist, pulling her toward him.

Isabel winced in
pain and pounded his chest. “Nathaniel, you brute. That hurt.”

“Now, as I was
saying, come along. My driver is waiting for us.”

“Good grief!
Have you gone mad, Nathaniel? I am exhausted. Quite frankly, had I known you
would be so bull-headed, I would have had Edmonds decline your entrance, too!”

He stared at her
blankly before tossing her over his shoulder like she was a common tavern
wench. Too appalled to even scream, Isabel folded against him. It wasn’t as if
she could run from him. He would only find her and repeat his barbaric actions.

Uneasiness
surged every nerve ending from head to toe. He walked past Edmonds and the
housekeeper, who both only smiled.
They
better not have had a hand in this.
And out the door they went, garnering
the attention of the footmen and the drivers of other carriages passing.
Just what exactly did the
marquess
discover that requires such privacy?

* * * *

Nathaniel closed
the carriage and rapped on the window for the driver to move.
Why the hell does she feel so unsafe with me?
Doesn’t she think I can keep her safe?

For the life of
him, he could not understand what caused this sudden shift in the dowager
duchess’s behavior. She grumbled the entire time, and even called him a barbarian.
He shifted so his knee brushed against her skirt, close enough that he could
feel the heat from her on this rainy and dreary morning.

“What has you on
edge, darling? Have I ever given you any reason to think I would harm you?”

She frowned. “No,
but we should not be doing this, Nathaniel. Haven’t you had enough of this
scandal?”

“And what
exactly are we doing, love? We are only going for a ride through Hyde Park.
There is nothing scandalous about that…well, other than the way I carried you out
of your house.”
And the next time I do
that, I will be tossing you into our marriage bed.

“No, but there
is a matter of those unsavory rumors…about the two of us. Have you even managed
to stop into the House of Lords to explain your behavior?”

Nathaniel
groaned. He owed an explanation to no one. Not to Parliament, his mother,
Avonlea, or the
haute ton
. He burned
to have her again, but he would only take her to his bed once they were married
and out of public scrutiny. In the end, they would only have to answer to the
good Lord for their sins, though they had less to answer for than her late
husband.

“My dear, when I
said I would see you soon, I certainly meant it. I did not wish to inflict any
unnecessary stress until I had all my information straight. Would you like to
hear what I have learned?”

She immediately
faced him and paled.
The poor, dear woman
is probably horrified enough that her husband’s sordid affairs are common
knowledge
.

She nodded.
“Well? Don’t keep me waiting, Nathaniel.”

“It would appear
that while your husband was engaged in pleasurable activities with Downsbury’s
wife, he, too, was being duped. It is rumored that she also strung along Lord
Wycliffe. The chaps at White’s and several other establishments have heard
through their wives that she has also been out of sight.

“The last time
anyone has seen her was at a ball a few weeks back when one of the ladies
commented on her weight gain. When asked when the child was due, she left the
ball at once, in a rage. It is unsure if she is truly with child. And even
then, whose child is she carrying?”

She gasped,
though the twinkle in her eye denoted amusement.