Simply Scandalous (28 page)

Juliet tried not to laugh and very nearly succeeded.
"I think perhaps you are ill, my lord," she said. "You
have not shouted at me yet or thrown anything at my
head, except this truly amazing flattery."

"But I never threw anything at your head," he
protested. "And, what's more, I never would. I-I
like your head."

She laughed. "You had a setter with a head like
mine, I daresay."

"What's all this?" Cary demanded suddenly, and
Juliet, remembering that he was hampered by his
injury, hurried down the steps to help him.

"I was just telling your sister I brought her some new
books from London," Swale lied.

"Did you?" asked Cary with a slight frown.

"What books, my lord?" asked Juliet curiously.

Swale snapped his fingers, and a servant brought
the package from his curricle.

"It was very good of you to think of me, my lord,"
Juliet said doubtfully as she helped Cary up the steps,
"but you need not have troubled yourself. We do
have books in Surrey, you know."

"The clerk at Hatchard's said they were very new
and smart," Swale said, shrugging. "You would not let
me do anything for you after the accident, but I did
want to do something. I'm sorry to say Mr. Shakespeare's output is not what it ought to be. Nothing
at all new from him this year or last year either.
Probably, he will never recover from the whole Hamlet
fiasco."

Recognizing that he was making a joke, and a joke
at his own expense, Juliet stared at him openmouthed.

"What room have you made up for Swale, Julie?"
Cary interrupted. "His lordship will want to make
himself presentable before he meets my aunt."

Juliet's eyes were big and round. "I have made up Hastings, but-oh, Cary! You don't mean-He's not
staying here?"

"He has to stay here," Cary told her grimly. "God
help us."

She gulped as she thought of the disabled bell; the
hideous furniture; the cold hearth; the general disorder;
and, above all, the RAT. "Perhaps another room-"

Cary's lip curled beneath his mustache. "Hastings
will do nicely, Julie. Billy will see to you, Swale," he
added, looking around. "Where is that infernal boy?"

Juliet felt her cheeks reddening. Cary knew as well
as anyone that Hastings was the worst room in the
house, even without the charming modifications she
had made to it. It had the most hideous, stiff Restoration furniture. Prisons boasted more comfortable
beds. Swale would think the Wayborns were povertystricken! "I could have Quebec made up," she whispered to her brother.

"No, indeed," Cary snorted. "Hastings will be quite
good enough for him. We ain't friends, Julie. We're
tied together until this bloody race is over."

`Just put me anywhere, Miss Wayborn," Swale said
cheerfully. "I'm not particular. And do please take the
books. I always fork over a little present when I make
an extended visit. And if you find I've caused any
damage, do please present me with a bill."

Cary looked at him with contempt and strode into
the house, leaving them to follow-or not.

"I will give them to my aunt, sir," Juliet said, accepting the little package. "And thank you. My lord,"
she remembered to add.

Inside the house, four curved walls formed a grand
circular entrance hall. A star-shaped pattern was laid
out on the floor in black and white marble. The walls
were painted pale blue, and they looked even paler
in the brilliant sunlight spilling from the glass dome far overhead. Matching staircases flanked the hall, one
curving east, the other curving west.

A footman appeared in the hall to help Cary up the
eastern stairs. Swale started up the staircase after
him, but Cary said rudely, "You're on the other side
of the house, Swale. I'm going to my room, Julie. Send
some tea up to me right away, will you? And make sure
you cut the crusts off the sandwiches; otherwise, I
won't eat them."

Swale frowned up at him. "Does he always order you
about like a servant?" he asked Juliet.

"Certainly he does," she replied, covering her nervousness as best she could, "but I never attend him.
Billy went to tell Sir Benedict you have arrived, my
lord. He'll be back directly to show you your room.
Please excuse me," she added, desperate to get away
and speak to the housekeeper.

"No, don't," he said immediately. "Don't go!"

She turned to look at him, wide-eyed.

"You don't dare leave me alone in this place," he
pointed out. "I'm sure to break something." With a
sweep of his arm, he indicated the tall Wedgwood vases
in various niches along the curved, pale blue walls.

"Oh, break anything you like," she cried, darting
toward the hall. "They're quite fake, you know."

He stepped in front of her. "Fake vases? Can't put
flowers in them or anything?" He stood with his arms
behind his back, his face open and friendly, but he
seemed determined not to let her leave. "How curious."

"No, of course they're real vases," said Juliet impatiently. "I meant they're not real Greek vases. They're
just plain, ordinary Wedgwood. If you break one,
I'm sure the factory still has the mold. We could
always replace it. They're reproductions, I meant.
Not fakes."

"Ah."

He looked at her so sharply that her resentment was
aroused. "I expect there are no reproductions at
Auckland Palace," she said. "I expect that Wayborn is
quite a cottage compared to Auckland Palace. Is there
really a drawing room with walls paneled in amber?"

"I daresay there is," he said, wrinkling his brow. "I
know there is one in turquoise and one in malachite.
Or is it lapis lazuli?"

She laughed. "Don't you know?"

"Auckland is so far north I go there but once or
twice a year. You are fortunate, Miss Wayborn, to
have two such charming places so near to London."

"Yes, I have Tanglewood and Wayborn," she replied,
giving up all hope of escaping. "You are interested in
purchasing a small estate near London, as I recall."

"Am I? Oh yes," he stammered, turning red.

"Need it be small?" she asked curiously. "That is,
Lord Skeldings might be persuaded to part with Silvercombe. It is very bad for the neighborhood that
he lives now almost entirely in Bath. The house is
so big it is rarely let for more than a month or two
out of the year, and really, it is not modern. The
plumbing is quite dreadful. But it is the only place
in the neighborhood that might be available. Lord
Redfylde has taken it through the end of the year,
but I daresay he will give it up after Lady Redfylde
is safely delivered."

"I came to Surrey-" he began, then corrected
himself. "One of the reasons I came to Surrey was to
have speech of Lord Redfylde. Try as I may, I could
not find him in London."

"Unfortunately, his lordship is not at Silvercombe
now," she told him. "He spends but little time there,
though his wife is ill and she carries his child. I do not
know when he means to return. It is said that business takes him to London, but you say he is not in London.
I wonder where he could be."

"Never mind-he will return eventually," said Swale
quickly, guessing that the man had a mistress somewhere.

"You mean to ask him about his wager," she guessed.

"Certainly."

She looked at him with approval. "I told Benedict to
ask him, but he refused. He said it wouldn't be proper."

Swale smiled. "There is some difference, I think, in
my case. I may safely ask his lordship why he would
hazard ten thousand pounds on me. Sir Benedict
would look a damn fool asking Redfylde why he had
wagered against his brother."

"I suppose you are right," she said reluctantly.

"Of course I am right," he told her as Billy appeared at last.

"Your room is not quite ready," Juliet said quickly.
"Billy will show you to Sir Benedict's dressing room. I
will-shall I send his man to attend you?" she asked
doubtfully, eyeing his disheveled clothes and wild hair.

"Thank you, no," he answered. "Bowditch will have
arrived by now."

Juliet was startled. "Bowditch! Have you taken him
back? But what about Fifi?"

He was obliged to tell her of Fifi's perfidy. "She has
betrayed my poor Bowditch just as she betrayed Mr.
Wayborn's groom. So you see, my dear Miss Wayborn, she really was a shocking strumpet." He chuckled. "It must be rather tiresome to always be wrong.
First, you misjudge me, then poor Bowditch."

"If you think," Juliet said, her eyes flashing, "that
your Bowditch will ever set foot in this house, you very
much mistake the matter! I will send Pickering to you."

His eyes flashed like emeralds. "Do it," he answered, considerably annoyed, "and I'll bloody
well throw him at your head!"

"'Ere now!" Billy objected instantly. "There's no call
for your lordship to be using such language in front
of Miss Julie! We don't go in for that sort of thing at
the Hall."

Juliet braced for an explosion of resentment from
Swale, but he merely smiled. "You're quite right,
Master Billy. My apologies, Miss Wayborn. Unforgivably rude." He gave Juliet a short bow and the impertinent Billy a pat on the head. "Send me all the
Pickerings you like, my dear Miss Wayborn. Bowditch
can sleep in the stable."

"Well!" Juliet said to herself when he had disappeared with Billy. She did not know what to make of
Swale's sudden reappearance in her life. She had assumed when she had first seen him, that he must be
staying with his sister at Silvercombe and that he had
only come to pay his respects. He would certainly have
an added reason for wanting to stay at Silvercombe,
since it was Serena's residence. But he was to stay at
Wayborn Hall. She couldn't think of the events in
Hertfordshire without profound embarrassment, and
she supposed he must feel the same. After all, they
might be engaged now or even married. And yet he
had not seemed embarrassed. He seemed to be trying
to make himself agreeable. He seemed ... happy.

`Julie!" Cary shouted from somewhere above her.
"Where is my tea?"

Something must be done about the rat in Hastings
immediately, she decided, hurrying off to find Sir
Benedict's personal manservant. "I've two rather desperate cases for you, Pick," she apologized. "Lord
Swale don't care how he looks, and Master Cary has
grown a rat-I mean, a beard!" she corrected herself
hastily before rushing off to find Mrs. Spinner.

Sir Benedict's dressing room was a large compartment that smelled handsomely of cedar. Billy filled the
basin with water, and Swale stripped to the waist to wash.
Billy picked Swale's coat and shirt up from the floor,
then obligingly poured icy cold water over his head with
a suddenness that quite took Swale's breath away.

"I am gratified, Master Billy. You have reminded me
of my school days."
----- - - - -- - - -- - - -

Billy began vigorously toweling the lord's shoulders,
but Swale preferred to do this himself. "Don't worry,"
he told the disappointed boy. "There's a big tip in it
for you if you don't mind earning it."

Billy's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "How's that?"

Swale finished drying off and hung the towel
around his neck. "All I want is a little information."

"Like what?" Billy wanted to know.

Swale shrugged. "Like ... for example ... who's
going to marry the daughter of the house?"

Billy's eyes started from his head. "What, milord?"

"Come now!" Swale said amiably. "The servants at
Auckland Palace had a pool going on my sister.
Robert, the second footman, made out with a hundred pounds, I understand, when his candidate won
the fair Lady Maria Ambler."

"A hundred pounds, milord! " Billy cried, adding an
appreciative whistle.

"The man she married was a bit of a dark horse,"
Swale explained. "So tell me, who's your money on,
Master Billy?"

Young Billy stuck his finger in his ear and performed a thorough and pleasurable search of its contours before answering. "Well, there's no pool or
nothing, milord-Mrs. Spinner don't hold with
servants gambling and all. But there's no law against speculating, now is there? Mrs. Spinner speculates
herself."

Swale, while having no idea who Mrs. Spinner was,
asked solicitously, "And who does the good Mrs. Spinner favor?"

"Mr. Calverstock," said Billy with a shrug. He leaned
against Sir Benedict's dressing table and folded his
arms, beginning to enjoy the man-to-man chat. "But
he's only a younger son, and anyway, Miss Julie
couldn't like his wet mouth. He's always licking his
lips. See?"

Billy was a gifted mimic. Swale made a note to himself never to lick his lips in Miss Wayborn's presence.
"Mrs. Spinner is bound to be disappointed," he said.
"Who do you favor, Billy?"

"Captain Cary's coming on nicely," said young Billy,
after a moment spent exploring his other ear. "He
made his fortune in the war, and he's dead handsome
into the bargain."

"And what about me?" Swale demanded.