Simply Scandalous (21 page)

Benedict shrugged. "He could do no less-he was
responsible for your injuries. That he would come
here against my expressed wishes and make love to
you is intolerable."

"Make love to me! "Juliet cried. "I think perhaps my
ears deceive me. Did you say that Ginger came here
to make love to me?"

Benedict frowned. "Did he not ask you to marry
him?"

"Certainly not! You have been listening too much
to Horatio and Cousin Wilfred."

"Do you know he came here with a special license?"

"That wasn't his," she told him. "It really was Bowditch
with designs upon Fifi. Lord Swale only came into
Herts looking for a small, comfortable place within
easy distance of London. I expect his inquiries about
Tanglewood led him to the Vicarage, and to me."

"He told you he was looking for a house in the
country?"

"Yes."

"Then he is a liar!" said Benedict grimly. "I knew he
was an ill-tempered brute when he broke Mr. Calverstock's nose-that is why I refused to consent to the
marriage-but I didn't think him a liar."

Juliet was bewildered. "Stacy asked for your consent,
and you refused him because his nose was broken?
This is intolerable. How dare he go behind my back
and ask you when I refused him!"

"Not Mr. Calverstock," Benedict told her. "Swale.
More accurately, Swale's father."

Juliet gasped. "The Duke of Auckland wants to
marry me? Oh no!"

Benedict chuckled softly. "His Grace was convinced
that a marriage between our two families would quiet
any scandal arising from Cary's injury and the curricle
race, but he did not mean to sacrifice himself, my
dear. The match his Grace proposed was between his
son and my sister."

"Ginger and me?" Juliet turned pale. "But that is impossible. He's fixed on Serena Calverstock. He
told me so himself."

Benedict frowned slightly. "I've seen no notice in
the papers. I expect that is wishful thinking on his
part. Undoubtedly, if you married the scapegrace, Society would conclude his innocence. That is the chief
appeal of the marriage. I daresay his Grace made certain concessions that would make it still more attractive to his son."

"Then you truly believe he came here to ask me to
marry him? He did tell Mrs. Cary he had something
particular he wished to say to me,"Juliet said thoughtfully. "But I never dreamed ... Oh, Benedict, I made
fun of him."

"He came here after I told him I'd never consent
to the marriage," said Benedict. "I call that underhanded and ungentlemanlike, thoroughly in keeping
with what I know of Swale."

"Oh, poor Ginger," she murmured. "I was really
horrid to him. I wouldn't even milord him. What he
must think of me."

"What must he think of you! Juliet, you astonish me."

"But he came all this way to ask me to marry him,"
she protested, "and I laughed in his face. I threw
yarn at him, and I set his dinner on fire too, poor man.
If I'd known his father had sent him here to solicit my
hand, I should never have been so cruel. Especially
when he didn't really want to ask me to marry him
and was probably frightened to death I'd accept!"

"Good God," Benedict murmured. "Would you
have accepted him?"

"Of course not," said Juliet. "No. But I ought to have
listened to him politely, thanked him for the honor, and
refused him with civility at least. Especially him. I've
wronged him so much. If he is in disgrace, it's my fault.
I publicly accused him. If I hadn't done that-"

"If you hadn't, Mr. Calverstock undoubtedly would
have."

"Yes, but I did do it. It's no use dodging blame. You
were absolutely right," she continued in bitter selfdeprecation. "It was stupid and rash. I can never show
my face in Society again, and I've damaged the reputation of a man who did not deserve it. I'm so sorry,
Benedict."

Benedict climbed to his feet. "Don't dwell on it, my
dear. Swale's reputation was pretty corroded at the
start. I expect I must go down to the Tudor Rose and
tell his lordship you do not wish to force him to marry
you, after all."

Juliet was startled. "Has he not gone back to
London?" Her eyes widened in alarm. "His grayswere his horses very badly injured? Oh, God! How selfish of me not to inquire before! "

"I'll ask him when I see him, if you like. Did you
truly not know he was here?" Benedict frowned. "Dr.
Cary tells me he called only this morning, anxious to
be of assistance to you."

"Did he? No one told me."

"Do you wish to see him?"

"Oh no," his sister replied, looking rather flustered. "If he did call, it was only from a sense of
obligation, I'm sure. I daresay he has no wish ever to
see me again. It would be terribly awkward if we were
to see each other again. But do please inquire after
his horses, Benedict. Cattle, he calls them."

Juliet looked down at her hands in embarrassment. "And will you please tell him that I'm excessively sorry? I may have said some very foolish things
when we were in the cottage ... I never meant to
cause him so much trouble. It must have been the
whisky. "

Benedict sighed and, with an air of weary detachment, resumed his seat. "Whisky?"

"Does this mean our Miss Julie is going to be a
Duchess?"Jackey Lime inquired excitedly as he polished Lord Swale's boots in the private parlor of the
Tudor Rose.

"She will be a Marchioness," Swale told the boy.
"She won't be a Duchess until my father shuffles off
the mortal coil, and between us, the old fool plans to
live forever."

"A Marchioness." Jackey appeared doubtful. "Is
that good, milord?"

Swale smiled at the boy. It was remarkable, really,
how calm he was in the face of impending doom. "It's
very, very good, Jackey," he assured the boy.

,,Will she have jewels and carriages?" Jackey
demanded.

"She will have all the jewels and carriages she can
eat," Swale promised.

Mrs. Sprigge came in and glared at Swale. "Sir
Benedict Wayborn is here to see your lordship," she
said. "He don't look happy," she added with a malicious gleam in her eye.

The man himself appeared in the doorway, pallid
with anger.

"This is a respectable establishment," Mrs. Sprigge
said, lingering. "That Miss Julie should be insulted in
my parlor is intolerable, sir! You mustn't blame Mr.
Sprigge, Sir Benedict. How was he to know the lordship would be so naughty? You're a wicked, wicked
lordship," she scolded Swale, "and I don't mind
telling you there's no place at the Tudor Rose for a
rake's progress!"

This was not the first time it had been suggested to Swale that he leave the inn, but he did not take it seriously since no shortage of rabbit pie had developed.
He ignored Mrs. Sprigge and addressed himself to
Juliet's brother. "Is she well, sir? Is Miss Wayborn quite
well? Those damned Carys won't let me near her!
They won't tell me a thing. Should I send to London
for my family's surgeon? Mr. Norton would come at
a moment's notice."

"Will you leave us, please, Mrs. Sprigge?" said Benedict. For a moment after she had left, taking Jackey
Lime with her, he seemed busy fiddling with his stick,
polishing its silver head obsessively with his thumb.
In reality, he did not trust himself to speak. He seated
himself and said quietly, "There are surgeons enough
in Hertfordshire, my lord."

"Dammit, man!" Swale exploded. "Is she all right?"

"My sister need not concern you, my lord," Benedict informed him coldly.

"Not concern me? Sir Benedict, I was driving. I
accept full responsibility for the accident. Naturally,
Miss Wayborn's injuries concern me. They concern
me very much."

"First, my brother's arm, and now, my sister's leg,"
Benedict remarked in exasperation. "Are we never to
be rid of you, sir? You destroy all in your path. You
cling like ivy. You persist like the plague. I heartily wish
you to the devil."

"If we're to be brothers, you mustn't wish me to the
devil, Sir Benedict."

Benedict lifted a brow. "Brothers, my lord? Why
should we be brothers?"

"Come now," said Swale, shrugging his shoulders like
a pugilist preparing to enter the ring, "I know perfectly
well I'm caught like a rat in a trap. If I'm to marry your
sister-"

"You must allow me to tell you that you will never
marry my sister," said Benedict.

Swale was taken aback by this calm statement. "But
haven't I ruined her or something?" he demanded.
"Your sister, of course, is quite innocent, but the
Carys seem to think I've compromised her. Dammit,
man! Is her leg broke? Is she crippled?"

"My sister will make a full recovery, as I hope, my
brother will." Benedict looked at him coldly. "I am
Juliet's guardian. I value her happiness above the
opinion of the world. I won't be bullied by this shabby
trick into giving my sister to you, my lord, particularly
since the marriage is disagreeable to her."

"What shabby trick?" Swale's face was red, and
his green eyes narrowed dangerously. "I used no
trick. All of my dealings with your sister have been
honest, which is a sight more than she can say about
her dealings with me! Did she say the marriage was
disagreeable to her? Not half as disagreeable as it is
to me, let me tell you!"

"Do you deny that you came to Hertfordshire to
make my sister marry you?"

"I do deny it," said Swale hotly. "I never had the least
intention of marrying your sister."

"No, indeed," Benedict murmured. "Milord is here
looking for a house within easy distance to London!"

Confronted with the lie, Swale blushed a dark red.
"As a matter of fact," he said with dignity, "I do want
a house within easy distance of London. Doesn't
everyone?"

"It seems to be quite the thing indeed," said Sir Benedict with a very grave expression. "My Lord Redfylde is
also seeking a house within a few miles of London."

"Redfylde!" Swale's eyes narrowed to slits.

"Yes, my lord," said Benedict. "Redfylde."

"Is he in Hertfordshire?" Swale demanded. "Lead me to him. I have a crow to pluck with my Lord
Redfylde! "

"And yet," Benedict observed, "rather than stay in
London and pluck it, you chose to pursue my sister
into Hertfordshire. Is that not a trifle curious?"

"I told you," Swale said coldly, "I was interested in
purchasing a country estate within

"Easy distance of London," Benedict finished. "Very
well, my lord. My sister's being in this very place, in
her cousins' house, must have been a very shocking
coincidence for you."

"Well," said Swale, wilting beneath Benedict's fierce
gaze, "I had an idea she was here. I had an idea of
seeing her. I had an idea that things must have been
very rough on her after the race."

"And you came here to smooth out the rough?"
Benedict snorted unpleasantly. "Well done, my lord.
She is now much better off."

"I didn't mean to make things worse, you know,"
Swale said. "I've ... I've no animosity toward her. She
owned her mistake, and she has apologized to me.
Well, perhaps I exaggerate when I say she apologized. But, at any rate, if she wants me to marry her,
I will. Reluctantly."

"That is handsome of you, my lord," said Benedict, "but, alas, you must seek some other young
woman upon whom to practice your amazing condescension. My sister seems to prefer the ignominy
of being known forever as the Young Lady Who."

"Your sister, if you don't mind my saying so, is an
ass," said Swale. "And if you were any sort of guardian,
you would make her marry me. She has been alone
with me here in this very room. That infernal boy saw
us together. You know we were seen driving through
the village together. We were quite alone at that
bloody farm, and when that ass Captain Cary walked in, she was in my arms. Well, dammit! Who's going
to marry her now?"

"Since it is definitely not to be Lord Swale," Benedict replied, "the question does not overly concern
me. But, in case it concerns you, my lord, you should
know that Captain Cary has asked my permission to
marry Miss Wayborn. So you needn't worry she will
die an old maid."

"She's going to marry him?" Swale scowled. "The
man is a pompous ass and a dead bore."

"That will be my sister's decision," Benedict replied.

"That is a great relief to me," Swale said after a
moment. "Yes, she should marry him, and quickly
too, before he changes his mind. He'll make her a
famous husband. They will suit very well indeed-they
have matching coats with shiny brass buttons already."

"I'm excessively glad your lordship approves."

"Let me be the first to toast the happy couple. I suppose he is with her now, holding her little hand and
reciting Shakespeare's poetry in the original Danish.
I daresay he wouldn't know what to do if a snake got
inside her clothes!"

"I have nothing more to say to you, my lord." Benedict seemed about to leave, but he hesitated. "My
sister, however, asked if I would inquire after your
horses."

"My grays?" Swale appeared distracted. "She asked
after them, did she? You may tell her that Jupiter has
quite a nasty scratch, and Mercury has a big knee."

"Will they recover? It would grieve my sister if they
had to be put down."

"Put down? Oh, no. The curricle was smashed, of
course-"

"Miss Wayborn did not inquire after your curricle,
my lord," Sir Benedict informed him curtly, then
coldly took his leave.