Simply Scandalous (22 page)

In the elegant reception room of her London town
house, Lady Maria Fitzwilliam extended her hand to
Mr. Alexander Devize.

"Good evening, my lady. My mother and my sister
have asked me to convey their regrets."

Lady Maria inclined her head. She was a snubnosed, red-haired young woman of twenty-eight. If she
was considered attractive, it was chiefly due to a pair
of mischievous, laughing dark eyes, but when she
was angry, the nostrils of her snub nose tended to flare
and her expressive eyes grew very cold. The nostrils
flared now as Alex bent over her hand.

"Indeed?" she said in a rather hard voice. "What
excuse did they give? Headache? A sick relative? Believe me, I have heard every possible excuse in existence tonight!" With an angry snap, she opened her
painted ivory fan. "Though I did expect more from
my Lady Devize and my Lady Cheviot! "

Alex's face reddened with embarrassment as he
looked around the elegant ball room. By ordinary
standards, the ball was well-attended, but the very best
Ton were conspicuous by their absence. This was the Fitzwilliams' first ball as a married couple, and the
Duke's daughter was livid. It ought to have been a runaway success. But the only ladies in attendance were
the wives of the officers of her husband's former
regiment, many of whom she had invited merely as
a courtesy to her husband. And she very much suspected that many of these ladies had attended only
as a courtesy to their husbands and that they would
have preferred to stay away.

Having never supposed that the spurious accusations leveled against her brother by people she had
never heard of would ever affect her own family's consequence, Maria was seriously vexed. Who were the
Wayborns? Old County, she was told, which she took
to mean little country nobodies. Her husband could
never explain to her how a mere baronetcy-and a
Surrey baronetcy, at that!-could trump all the wealth
and influence of the Duchy of Auckland.

"Well?" she demanded of Mr. Devize. "They asked
you to make their excuses. Make them!"

"It's little Harry Cheviot, I'm afraid," the baron's
son was obliged to say. "My nephew is quite ill, and
his Mamma and Grandmamma have stayed at home
to nurse him."

"Are you quite certain he did not fall out of a tree?"
Maria inquired coldly. "Quite a few children appear
to have fallen out of trees today."

The lady's husband, Colonel Fitzwilliam, coughed
lightly. "My dear, it's not Mr. Devize's fault."

"My brother," Maria said in a low, stifled voice, "does
not cheat! It is my opinion that Mr. Wayborn was set
upon by footpads and only concocted this bizarre story
because he knew he would lose the race by default!"

"Mr. Wayborn did lose by default," Alex reminded
her. "Miss Wayborn conceded."

"Oh, the despicable sister." Perhaps it was unreason able, but Lady Maria held Miss Wayborn entirely
responsible for her brother's disgrace and the poor
turnout at her ball. "Miss Whip, they call her! I do not
know the young woman, Mr. Devize. I was away on my
honeymoon when she came out, though I understand this is her second season. No surprise she was
unable to find a husband in her first season," Maria
added spitefully, quite forgetting that she herself had
enjoyed nearly ten Seasons as a spinster before finally
leading Colonel Henry Fitzwilliam to the altar. "Are
you at all acquainted with Miss Wayborn, Mr. Devize?"

"I know her a little," he admitted.

"I hear such things as make me shudder," said
Maria. "She crops her head like a boy, smokes cigars,
wears trousers, and takes snuff!"

"I have never observed the lady engaged in any of
those activities," said Alex, and Maria heard the slight
stress he placed on the word `lady.'

"And the lady's family?"

"The Surrey branch of the Wayborn clan. That is
all I can tell your ladyship."

"There is an Earl Wayborn," said Colonel Fitzwilliam. "His lordship's seat is at Westlands, not far
from my own boyhood home of Matlock."

"I expect his Surrey relations trade freely upon
Earl Wayborn's good name," Maria said scornfully.
"Let us hope Miss Wayborn does not drag them all
under. Miss Wayborn herself is quite sunk. All good
society must be closed to her now."

"She is to be pitied," the Colonel murmured.

"Pitied?" Maria frowned. "Rather, she is to be ostracized. She is to be punished for her impropriety,
her insolence, her impudence ... her willful disregard
of civility and the deference due my brother's rank!"

Alex was taken aback. "You are aware, are you not, that your father has been at some pains to arrange a
marriage between your brother and Miss Wayborn?"

Maria was appalled. "My brother marry Miss Wayborn?" she cried. "I don't think!"

"You needn't worry anything will come of his
Grace's efforts," Alex assured her. "Sir Benedict Wayborn, the lady's brother, strangled the idea at birth.
Apparently, he does not desire my Lord Swale as a
brother. He would not confide his sister's happiness
into your brother's keeping."

Maria's cheeks reddened with the Ambler nettlerash. "How dare he say such a thing!" she cried,
trembling with rage. "My father honors him too
much, and this is his answer? Insupportable! Insufferable conceit!"

Alex chuckled. "Swale was also enraged. You will
laugh, my lady, when I tell you the revenge your
brother is plotting against that family."

"Well?" said Maria, her nostrils flaring.

"Geoffrey means to find Miss Wayborn wherever her
family has hidden her and make her fall in love with
him. Then he'll spurn her, breaking her heart." Alex's
eyes danced at the absurdity of his red-haired friend
in the role of Casanova, but Maria recoiled in alarm.

Colonel Fitzwilliam frowned. "That is very bad of
Geoffrey. Miss Wayborn must be wretched enough
without he makes her a figure of fun."

"But-where is my brother?" Maria demanded. "I
haven't seen Geoffrey since the damnable race. I expected him to attend my ball, you know. He does not
even send his regrets."

"Perhaps," Alex said, "he has fallen from a tree."

"I had rather he were dead at the bottom of the
Thames than anywhere near Miss Wayborn," Maria
declared stoutly.

"My dear, you do not mean it," Fitzwilliam
murmured.

Maria seemed about to defy her husband and say
that, Yes, she did mean it, but she was forestalled by the
unexpected arrival of Lord Redfylde and his sister-inlaw, Lady Serena Calverstock. There was a stir among
the little gathering of ladies and gentlemen as the
raven-haired beauty with shining violet eyes entered the
room escorted by the tall, fair-haired Marquess.

Lord Redfylde bowed over his hostess's hand and
apologized for the absence of his wife, who was awaiting the birth of their third child. Lady Maria civilly offered her wishes that the child would be a boy this time.
Redfylde needed an heir, and his wife seemed to breed
only daughters, and these with the greatest of difficulty.
Redfylde then presented his sister-in-law.

Lady Serena greeted Maria with a degree of familiarity that the Duke's daughter might have found
objectionable at another time, but on this occasion,
she was so pleased Lord Redfylde had not snubbed
her that she accepted Serena's effusive compliments
on her ballroom decorations almost with pleasure.

The two ladies knew one another slightly, and they
had shared a number of London Seasons but had
never been friends. Maria had been clever enough to
realize that all her own vivacity and wit would be as
nothing compared to Serena's exquisite beauty and
taste, so she had always avoided the lady celebrated
with the sobriquet of La Serenissima.

Serena was dressed very simply in a white pleated
dress with a spray of spotted orchids on one shoulder
and diamond pins sprinkled in her jet black hair.
Maria felt overdressed and stuffy in her own gown of
garnet velvet, as dumpy and out of date as any poor
lieutenant's wife. Whatever they felt, the two ladies
studied each other's gowns, correctly identified the modistes who had made them, and with brilliant
smiles, pronounced their creations universally charming. Maria then politely inquired after the health of
Serena's sister, Lady Redfylde.

"Dear Constance," murmured Serena. "She is not
at all well. Mr. Norton has advised a remove from
London-and in the midst of the Season. So inconvenient! My Lord Redfylde has been very busy this
week seeking a comfortable house within easy distance of London."

"It is most inconvenient at the top of the Season,"
Redfylde added, "but it cannot be helped."

Serena spoke in a lowered tone to Maria. "Please
do not be offended if we don't stay long, my lady.
Indeed, I was determined to stay at home with my
sister all evening, but Redfylde insisted we come. My
lord feels very keenly any slight upon the honor of a
fellow nobleman, and he hopes that these dreadful
rumors about your brother may be crushed at once.
If it were not for her condition, do please know that
Lady Redfylde would be here herself."

-thank you, my dear," said Maria with real gratitude.
"We are discovering now who our real friends are."

"Did you not attend the race, my lord?" Alex asked,
turning to the Marquess of Redfylde. He cast into his
memory, but he could not recall seeing Lord Redfylde's proudly sculpted face and ash-blond hair either
at the Black Lantern Inn or at the finish line in
Southend. Surely, that was a curious lapse in a man who
had hazarded ten thousand pounds on the outcome!

Incredibly, Lord Redfylde begged to know which
race, as Ascot had not yet taken place. When told
Mr. Devize was referring to the infamous curricle
race from London to Southend, he coolly replied,
"I haven't time for such nonsense, Mr. Devize. I have
been looking for a country house. Redfylde, for all its beauties, is too far from London to be of any use
to us on this occasion."

"My Lord Redfylde has just taken Silvercombe in
Surrey," Serena told the company. "I wish he had
not! We will be rubbing shoulders with the Wayborns, for Sir Benedict of Wayborn Hall is to be our
nearest neighbor."

"Your ladyship was not always so adverse to rubbing
shoulders with the Wayborns," said Alex a little
sharply. "Mr. Cary Wayborn's attentions had grown
very marked in these last few weeks, and I had often
seen you riding with Miss Wayborn in the Park."

"My dear Mr. Devize," murmured the lady, her
dark lashes sweeping her cheek. "I did not see you
there. Yes, I am a little acquainted with the Wayborns, but, you know, that was before ..." Her beautiful violet eyes glinted. "But where is your dear
Mamma, Mr. Devize? Where is Lady Cheviot? I long
to see your charming sister."

"They did not trouble to come," said Maria, linking
her arm with Serena's. "Most of the ladies and half the
gentlemen have stayed away tonight. I consider it
very insolent, their taking the Wayborns' part against
the Aucklands'!"

"Oh, my dear Lady Maria," cried Serena. "I could
not-I would not abandon you in your darkest hour.
It is most unfair! What your poor brother must be
feeling! "

"Most unfair," Lord Redfylde echoed.

"I am sure it is all a dreadful mistake," Serena went
on blithely. "There is no possible way that Lord Swale
would employ such hole-and-corner tactics."

"You're very kind," murmured Lady Maria.

Alex's eyes narrowed. Like many gentlemen of rank
and fortune, he had enjoyed a brief flirtation with
Lady Serena, and he had never quite forgiven her for ending the affair before he was ready. 'Was it not your
cousin Stacy Calverstock who accused Lord Swale?"

Lord Redfylde made a choking sound. "Calverstock is an ass!"

Serena lightly touched his arm. "My poor cousin!"
she murmured. "He is bewitched by Miss Wayborn,
I think. He'll do anything to please her. He says even
now that he will not give her up. I fear he will do something quite foolish."

Lord Redfylde patted her hand reassuringly. "He
will give her up indeed, my dear. I will see to that.
There is no possible way I will allow him to connect
my family to such an immodest young lady."

Alex was shocked. "Lady Serena does not mean to
suggest that Mr. Calverstock accused Lord Swale
merely to please Miss Wayborn?"

"No, indeed," Serena replied. "Eustace and Mr.
Cary Wayborn have been friends since boyhood. He
feels it is his duty to support his friend and his friend's
sister."

"If the gentlemen both say Mr. Wayborn's attackers mentioned Lord Swale by name," said Alex, "I
think we must take them at their

"Why," demanded Maria, "when it is so obviously
a lie?"

"Let us say they did mention his name," said Lord
Redfylde irritably. "What does it signify? They are
villains. They will say anything. Lord Swale is a Peer
of the Realm, like myself. Surely, that places him
above reproach."

"Precisely," said Maria. "It is absurd that my brother
should be condemned by a few words from the uncivilized curs who attacked Mr. Wayborn. If indeed he
was attacked."

Serena scanned the ballroom restlessly. "Indeed,"
she said. "Anyone who knows my Lord Swale would never credit it for a moment. Why should he wish Mr.
Wayborn any harm?"

"I believe the inference is that Lord Swale wanted
to win his race by default," said Redfylde.

"Where is the sport in that?" scoffed Maria. "There
is no possible way my brother would deny himself the
pleasure of defeating Mr. Wayborn's chestnuts."

"A great deal of money is hazarded on these events,"
Alex said, watching Lord Redfylde closely. "Someone else may have wanted to deny your brother that
pleasure, Lady Maria."

Redfylde stiffened perceptibly. "What do you mean
by that remark, sir?"

"I believe it is more than a coincidence that Mr. Wayborn was attacked on the eve of the race," Alex
replied. "I believe the attack was carefully planned to
prevent him from ever reaching the Black Lantern on
the morning of the race."