Scandal's Child (3 page)

Jacko in turn looked at his sister whose pleading face was his undoing. He shook his head, shrugging. “What’s to do, Saville? Damn coil if you ask me.”

“I know what must be done,” Lady Tutwilliger insisted, thrusting up her bosom that tested her lilac satin gown to its limits. “And I am sure my old friend, Sybilla, Duchess of Culter, will share my feelings.”

A chill settled over Jules, effectively banishing the last lingering effects of the alcohol he’d consumed. “You know my step-grandmother?”

“
Know
her! We have been friends since our come-out together forty years ago. She has written me most glowingly of your half brother, the Marquis of Aubrey, and the new baby. Giles! Yes, that is your nephew’s name, is it not?”

Jules threw up his head arrogantly and returned Lady Tutwilliger’s stare. “Yes, that is my nephew’s name. You know my family well.”

“But of course,” Lady Tutwilliger graced him with a wide smile. “So well that I feel sure Sybilla will be delighted that you will be following your brother into the blissful state of matrimony. Such a much more pleasant expectation than the whispers of scandal.”

Jules feared nothing and no one, for he had faced his darkest hour and survived. He did not fear scandal for himself, but he would do nothing to mar Dominic’s happiness, nor cause pain to the duke and duchess. They had stood by him through much and were his only family.

“Willy, what are you about?” Lady Kathryn gasped, nearly falling off the bed in her eagerness to rush to her godmother’s side. “Stop this at once!” She cast pleading looks at her siblings, but Jacko glanced away sheepishly, probably glad to be spared an otherwise inescapable duel, and Mariah bowed her head, although Jules could see how she shook with sobs. Finally the lady turned to him. “My lord, please make them all understand!”

Jules met Lady Kathryn’s impassioned stare with an appraising one of his own.

She was tall for a woman and possessed a willowy figure that promised riper curves to come. Her golden hair curled in wild exuberance about her beautiful face, and her heavily lashed aquamarine eyes were wide. In their depths he saw fear. This child was as ingenuous as she appeared.

Jules gave her a brief, reassuring smile. “Lady Tutwilliger, I wish a few moments alone with Lady Kathryn.”

Kathryn looked stunned at the audacity of the request, but her godmother nodded readily. “I, of course, cannot allow you to be alone in this bedchamber. Hannah shall chaperon. Come along, Mariah. Jacko.”

Like a mother hen she guided her charges toward the door. Mariah appeared ready to disobey, then gave her sister a long hug before rushing from the room.

“You have five minutes,” Lady Tutwilliger declared before, head erect, turban plume waving, she swept out the door.

Jules glanced warily toward Hannah sitting so quietly before the fire.

“You may speak freely. She is asleep,” Kathryn stated dully.

And indeed a soft, tentative snore issued forth from that corner.

Jules could not help smiling. What a hornet’s nest he had tumbled into. He was a man who had seen and done much worse. On the journey here he had mused that his future lay before him. Apparently he had opened the wrong door and found it.

He stopped in stunned surprise, remembering Mrs. Forbes’s prophesy …
The wrong door shall be the right one for you
. Right or wrong the die was cast.

Taking two steps forward he stared straight into Kathryn Thistlewait’s pale, frightened face.

“My dear Lady Kathryn, will you do me the great honor of becoming my wife?”

“My lord, that’s a terrible idea! We are total strangers!” she argued.

“Lady Kathryn, in the
ton
, more often than not, strangers readily become betrothed,” he answered quietly.

Somehow she must make him see reason! She stared at him. His body was fluid and long. Even though she was not short, his height made him seem to tower above her, and she had to lean back to meet his gaze. The soft firelight revealed raven black hair falling straight across his brow, brushing the top of the patch covering his left eye. Beneath it a faint, white scar swept his high cheekbone to disappear at his temple. His nose was straight, as was his mouth, straight and firm with some strong emotion.

She set her face in equally firm lines and folded her arms across her breasts. “This entire incident is totally, utterly ridiculous! You and I know nothing untoward happened between us. We must simply make the rest of them all see reason.”

“Your godmother is suggesting the only course she can see that Society will accept. Even so there will be talk. She knows you must have an impeccable reputation to make any marriage, much less an advantageous one.” His mouth curved into a flicker of a rueful smile, and his gaze was so intensely brown as to appear black. “The
ton
is a censorious world.”

Kat knew that, had always known it. Growing up a Thistlewait—the child of the lord who had jilted a duke’s daughter to run off with his gamekeeper’s daughter—insured her early realization of what rumor could do to a life. She was a child of scandal, and only Lady Tutwilliger’s power in the
ton
, plus the fact that the Thistlewaits were connected to half the upper one hundred, made them acceptable. Kat wasn’t afraid of censure or scandal; she had already survived it.

Thrusting up her chin, she said as much to the Comte de Saville. “I am not afraid of gossip. I have faced it before.”

“Your courage does you credit,
ma petite
. Have you also faced your brother defending your honor?” His voice was tight with frustration. “He will have to call out his friend Allendale to stop the spread of this tale. If he survives that encounter there will be others who will insult you. Your brother will feel honor bound to defend you in the only means possible.”

She stepped back, clasping her hand to her suddenly hot throat that had swelled with tears. “Jacko can’t duel! He’d be killed,” she whispered, realizing just how serious her predicament was. How could her plan to keep Jacko from running off to the continent have ended so disastrously? Instinct demanded she turn and run from this stranger who seemed as determined as Willy upon this absurd course. She whirled about in frustration and pressed her closed fists into her cheeks, seeking desperate inspiration.

“We must not put Jacko in the position of defending you.” He continued calmly and, for the first time, a softness sweetened his face. “Lady Kathryn, you do not want this any more than I, but we must agree to avoid an ugly scandal. I realize I am not much of a prize.” So saying he flicked one long thin finger over his cheek. “But I am reasonably fixed and an honorable man. I will make you an unexceptional husband.”

Kat experienced a jolt of surprise that he should deride himself. She did not think his face unattractive—mysterious, perhaps. Or utterly detached, as if he could pull totally within himself and let nothing or no one reach him. That was not the husband for her. Kat wanted love and laughter, those vague reminiscences of her youth.

“I’m afraid I have no estate in England, but I do have relatives who will always welcome us.” He shrugged. “Château Saville is rumored to have been beautiful once. I am on my way to France now to oversee its renovation. Perhaps—”

“But that is of all things wonderful!” Kat interrupted, her mind leaping ahead to the possibilities. “That is the answer to all our problems.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady. What is the answer?” he returned quietly, although his right brow was raised in rather a haughty fashion.

“Going to France! Yes, it is perfect!” Kat declared, pacing back and forth in her excitement. “We shall let Willy and the
ton
think we are engaged. You and I, with Jacko and Hannah, of course, will travel to your château. We will stay a fortnight or so. Then we will find that we do not suit. I shall cry off. Jacko, Hannah, and I shall leave, traveling slowly through the continent, thereby satisfying Jacko’s wanderlust. By then Mariah should be happily settled. For you know,” she continued confidingly, “this should be her fourth Season. Papa was so ill the year of her come-out she refused to go. Then he died and we were in mourning so we missed a year. Last Season we were presented together, but she refused the duke, so this year she really must…”

Kat stopped for breath and looked up to discover the comte’s dazed countenance. “I am sorry. You must think me the veriest peagoose. But, truly, I believe this plan might serve both our needs.”

He shook his head and moved one step closer. He gave her a real smile, one that turned his mysterious, detached features into something else indeed! He suddenly reminded Kat of every dashing hero in the novels she and Mariah routinely checked out of Hookum’s Lending Library.

He took her hand, raised it slowly to his lips, and at his touch breathless excitement fluttered in strange parts of Kat’s anatomy.

“Lady Kathryn, I do not think you a peagoose. And I am perfectly willing to hear what your godmother makes of this plan.”

“
Plan!
What plan?” Lady Tutwilliger asked from the doorway. She sailed into the room, Jacko and Mariah following in her wake. Even Hannah opened her eyes and sat up, glancing around in renewed attention.

“Willy, I have come up with the perfect solution!” Kathryn exclaimed.

Jules retired to the fireplace to lean one shoulder against the mantel and observe the Thistlewaits in action.

His betrothed, amazingly he already thought of her in that context, outlined her plan of accompanying him to France. But she did fail to mention her intention to cry off. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow her to do that, but he didn’t have the heart to tell her just now, immediately after her masterful stratagem. In the end, somehow, he would make her understand this marriage would suit them both. He wasn’t quite sure why he had agreed—to keep the scandalmongers from Dominic and his family, who had suffered enough. Yes, he recognized that reason. But there was something more. Jules had truly loved very few people in his life. And certainly after his accident there had been little room in his thoughts for such a soft emotion. But these last months at Culter Towers with his only “family” had exposed yearnings he didn’t think he’d possessed.

In his world there were very few love matches like Dominic and Juliana. He couldn’t hope for one, so this arrangement with Kathryn Thistlewait would suit was well as any. He could, after all, have a semblance of happiness and family for himself. Besides, he admitted, he was rather fascinated by this unusual young woman with the undeniable streak of daring.

To Jules’s surprise, Lady Tutwilliger didn’t immediately begin a tirade at the idea of their journey to France. Instead she eyed her charge sternly. “It might well be just the thing. A family wedding at the Saville ancestral estate, only recently restored to its owner.” She considered briefly, her lilac plume nodding in rhythm with one tapping finger. “Charming.”

“Not be at Kat’s wedding!” Mariah wailed, rushing to her sister’s side to embrace her.

“No, Mariah, do not be upset,” Kathryn soothed. “It will be all right, never fear.”

Lady Tutwilliger fixed Jules with a cool stare. “Well, Comte, we have yet to hear from you regarding this plan.”

“I am at the disposal of my betrothed’s wishes,” he uttered, bowing and meeting Kathryn’s truly remarkable eyes. Fear no longer lurked there, instead there was a glimmer of determination and, yes, excitement. He was just beginning to understand this willowy beauty had the heart of an adventurer.

Suddenly he needed to know one fact. “I ask only one question. Does our arranged marriage keep Lady Kathryn from going where her heart dictates?”

Every eye in the room turned to Kathryn. She didn’t seem to notice. She returned his gaze steadily, her beautiful eyes clear and wide. “My heart is my own, Monsieur le Comte,” she answered quietly.

Oddly, Jules’s heart gave one strong thud and he had to take a deep breath before it began, again, to beat normally.

“Then, my dear, we are for France.”

Gwynneth Tutwilliger settled more deeply into the blue velvet pillows of her traveling coach, extremely relieved it was so well sprung. She was utterly and completely exhausted. The Thistlewait children were a handful, but they were as dear to her as if they were her own. Actually, she thought of them as hers, for their own mother, Bettina, had died when the twins were only five, and she had more or less had the rearing of them. When no one else would, she had stood by Francis Thistlewait. But, after all, they had been friends since the cradle. How could she have done any less? She didn’t regret a moment. They were scamps, but she adored them and was determined to see them all happily settled.

Another deep sob broke from Mariah that Lady Tutwilliger could ignore no longer.

“What
are
you sniffling about?”

Mariah looked up, her lashes drenched with tears. “We must go back to the inn. You cannot sacrifice Kat on the altar of respectability. Her romantic nature will never survive a loveless marriage.”

Impressed with Mariah’s persistent desire to aid her sister, Lady Tutwilliger folded her arms across her ample bosom and gave her an encouraging smile. “What do you suggest, Miss?”

“I shall take Jacko and Kat and retire to the country.” She sniffed. “Eventually the scandal will die down. Jacko is such an Adonis, he will, in time, make a brilliant match. Kat will find true love, just as she’s always wanted.” Another sniff escaped and Mariah dabbed at her eyes with a scrap of lace. “And I … I will devote myself to good works!”

“Oh, ho!” laughed the indulgent godmother. “And what about Mr. Vanderworth?”

Mariah paled, staring back at her with the amazing Thistlewait eyes, brightened by strong emotion. “My duty and love for my family is greater than any … any slight … regard I might have for Mr. Vanderworth.” Mariah thrust up her softly rounded chin. “I demand we return to the inn, Willy.”

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You’ll all be the death of me! That minx you call sister has no intention of going through with this marriage. But she won’t pull a fast one on me. I shall send a missive straight away to dear Sybilla. That can be a formidable family, when united. The comte will do the proper and Kat will have no say in it.”

Mariah stared at her in horror. “Willy, how can you be so cruel? Kat intends to marry for love like Mama and Papa.”

Too good-hearted to bear any more of Mariah’s sobs, Lady Tutwilliger leaned over and patted her hands. “Buck up, my dear. Did you get a good look at the comte? Never saw a man more cut out to be a girl’s romantic hero. Kat will be head over heels in love with the handsome rogue in no time or my name isn’t Gwynneth Euterpe Frogmorton Tutwilliger!”