Simply Scandalous (41 page)

Albert brought out the port, but Benedict made no
move to pour. Instead, he fixed a flaying eye on Swale
and said, "Farmer Quince tells me you have taken a
fancy to our cheese, my lord."

Swale first appeared confused, then relieved.
Clearly, he had been expecting quite a different question. "Oh yes, Sir Benedict. The cheese."

"You have asked him to sell you two hundred
cheeses, I believe? Two hundred, is that the correct
figure?"

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"Yes. Yes, two hundred is the exact number."

"At forty pence a cheese?"

"Oh, round figures, if you please," said Swale easily.
"A guinea a cheese."

"Naturally, we will draw up a contract," said Benedict. "In that way, both parties are protected."

"Farmer Quince requires no protection from me."

Benedict smiled coldly. "A contract makes explicit
the obligations of both parties."

"For heaven's sake," Swale said impatiently, "I give
him two hundred guineas, and he gives me two hundred cheeses."

"It does seem simple," Benedict agreed. "But what
size cheese? And when are they to be delivered? If they
cannot be delivered by such and such a date, is the
contract void? If, for example, Mr. Quince is unable
to provide more than, say, one hundred and seventeen cheeses by the date specific, is the contract void,
or should your lordship be obligated to purchase
the one hundred and seventeen cheeses? If so, should
the price of one guinea per cheese be reduced to, say,
one pound?"

Swale made a gesture of impatience. "Details,
details."

"A contract spells out the details of any agreement
for easy reference, my lord." Benedict lifted the decanter and poured a glass of port. "Take marriage, for
example."

Swale's eyes widened as he attempted to appear innocent. 'Were we ... were we talking of marriage, Sir
Benedict?"

"I am talking of marriage, my lord. Deceptively
simple, marriage, like the buying of cheese. A man
and a woman discover a deep admiration and regard
for one another. They pledge their feelings publicly;
then before God and man, they are joined in holy
matrimony. What could be simpler? And yet, the devil is in the details. Marriage is a legal contract
between two parties. I would be a poor landlord if I
allowed Mr. Quince to enter into a burdensome contract with you, my lord. After all, if he were to go to
the trouble and expense of making two hundred
cheeses and get nothing for it in the end, the poor
man would be ruined."

The baronet poured a second glass of port, and
Swale accepted it gratefully. All this talk of marriage
had made him thirsty. "All this talk of cheese is
making me thirsty," he said with a shaky laugh.

"In the same way," Benedict continued smoothly, "I
would be a poor guardian of my sister's happiness if
I allowed her to enter into a burdensome contract."

Swale frowned in concentration. "But ... I don't
wish to buy any cheese from your sister. My bargain
is with Mr. Quince."

"No, sir. Your bargain is with me," Benedict informed him. "But you have not touched your port, my
lord. Can it be that the stories are true?"

Swale started. "Stories?"

"Would you prefer Madeira?"

The time had come to seek wiser counsel. "No,
thank you, Sir Benedict," he said, almost jumping to
his feet. "In point of fact, what I need is the closet."

Ignominiously, the Marquess of Swale quit the field.

Juliet was waiting for him in the dark hallway outside her aunt's room. "Good God!" she whispered
fiercely. "You nearly frightened the life out of me."

"He suspects," said Swale, trying to gather up her
hand.

Impatiently, she snatched her hand away. "He certainly will suspect if he finds you here," she snapped.
"You must go back down and drink port with my
brother."

"No, I think I'd much better hide," he retorted. "I
can't drink the man's port and not tell him I'm in love
with his bally sister. I won't do it."

"Ginger-"

"I'm not bloody Macchiavelli, you know!"

"Steady on, my darling," she said quickly, soothingly,
realizing that her coconspirator had been pushed to
his limit.

"This, Julie, is worse than cold soup. A secret engagement! I never in my life heard of anything so
shabby. It would be better to elope. A good, honest
elopement is just what we need."

"Scotland? _l don't think," said Juliet hotly. She
could just imagine the contempt that would follow her
all her days if she eloped with Serena Calverstock's betrothed within days of the announcement in the Post.
Not to mention the sandwich boards in Hyde Park!
"I've had enough scandal, thank you. We must think
of our families. Benedict would never forgive me."

"My father would never forgive me either," he
agreed woefully. "He believes in the nobility setting
an example for the commoners, you know."

"And my poor aunt," Juliet added with a faint smile.
"Only imagine the pains in her legs if we eloped." She
touched the side of his face. "You must be strong, my
darling."

"Couldn't we tell Aunt Elinor, at least?" he begged
without much hope. "I shouldn't feel as much the
snake in the grass-the anguis in herby-if someone
in the household knew our secret."

"Are you mad?" Juliet scoffed, but in the next instant, she felt a flash of inspiration. "Aunt Elinor has
always been in favor of our marrying," she said
thoughtfully. "She is our only possible ally since both
my brothers detest you, and it will make her happier than words can express. Yes, I think we
should tell Aunt Elinor."

Swale followed her a little doubtfully into the room,
remembering how that lady always seemed to develop headache in his presence. Lady Elkins was
abed with a cold compress over her eyes, her back supported by a mountain of pillows. A lace cap covered
her hair, and a heavy shawl was wrapped around her
shoulders. She wore a voluminous robe of coppercolored silk, and on her feet were thick, black stockings. Only two or three candles lit the large room.

"Aunt Elinor?"Juliet called softly.

"Wicked, ungrateful girl," whined Lady Elkins pathetically. "I have been lying here in the most excruciating pain for a full twenty minutes, not that you
care two straws for that. Bring my vinaigrette. Nothe hartshorn."

Juliet sat on the edge of the bed and took her aunt's
hand gently in her own.

"You handle me so roughly," complained Lady
Elkins. "I am too weak even to lift my head."

"I have brought you something better than hartshorn, my dear aunt," Juliet whispered.

"Pray, do not scream at me, miss. Is that a young lady's
voice or a trumpet blast? Oh, how my head aches! I
expect Mrs. Oliphant's card party would have been too
much for me. Indeed, I should not have gone, Juliet,
even if you had been invited. When I think I might have
been the aunt of a marchioness-! You are far too
particular, my dear. What does it signify if the man has
a face out of a grotto? What does it matter that he is a
red-haired ape of a man? He has twenty thousand
a year! "

Swale could not hear this with universal pleasure.

"My dear aunt," Juliet said quickly, "would you be
very pleased to call him your nephew?"

"Certainly not," she bitterly replied. "The stupid
man has made himself so disagreeable to everyone
that I cannot blame you for refusing him. I wish he
would go away and leave us all in peace."

"I'm very sorry to hear you say that, Aunt, because
I am secretly engaged to him."

"Oh, don't tease me," moaned the widow. "You
wicked, wicked girl. My heart cannot bear the strain."

Juliet peeled the compress from her aunt's eyes.
"But it is quite true, Aunt Elinor. His lordship is here
with me now. His lordship very much wishes to be
your nephew."

Lady Elkins regarded Swale almost with horror, as
though fearing he might be a ghost.

"Hullo, Aunt Elinor," he greeted her. "Direct from
the grotto, as you see."

Lady Elkins spoke cautiously. "You're really going
to marry Juliet? You're not toying with me?"

"Our engagement is secret at the moment," said
Juliet, "for obvious reasons. But his lordship said we
must tell Lady Elkins. Lady Elkins will be our ally. We
must have Lady Elkins's approval and advice. Lady
Elkins is the only person in the world who can help us."

"Oh!" Lady Elkins cried, her bosom beginning to
heave. She was deeply flattered to be drawn into
such an important secret. "My approval? Of course
you have it, my dear children! Oh, you dear, sweet
boy!" she cried, throwing her arms wide to Swale. "I
am speechless with delight! Words cannot express my
happiness! I do not know what to say! Twenty thousand a year!"

"Do you feel well enough to come down, Aunt Elinor?"Juliet gently suggested. "It's so difficult with
Benedict glaring at us the whole time."

"I'll carry you downstairs if you like," Swale
offered.

Lady Elkins was indignant. "Young man, I am perfectly capable of walking downstairs! Certainly, I will
come down. Juliet, fetch me my good shawl-no,
no, the cashmere from India. And my silk slippers.
Juliet embroidered these for me, my lord. Is that not
exquisite workmanship? An E on each toe for Elinor
Elkins. Isn't that clever?"

'Very," Swale affirmed, not in the least distressed that
his future wife possessed one very silly aunt. It was
pleasant to meet someone in this house who did not
regard him with the flaying eye. He offered her his arm.

Juliet ran down before them and was engaged in
opening the piano and setting out the music when Sir
Benedict found her. "Is Swale in here?"

Juliet cheekily stooped to check underneath the
piano before answering, "I don't see him."

"Where's he gotten to?" Benedict looked at his
sister suspiciously. "Are you wearing rouge?"

"Certainly not. Only old ladies and opera dancers
wear rouge."

While not entirely convinced, Benedict did not
pursue the matter. "Look here, Juliet. I must speak to
you. I can remain silent no longer. Cary tells me you
have received an offer of marriage? Is this true?"

Juliet was startled. Cary could not possibly be aware
of her arrangement with Swale since it had only been
decided just before dinner. Benedict must be referring to Horatio's offer. "I have received an offer of
marriage," she told Benedict. "But I have decided I
cannot accept."

"Thank God," said Benedict. "I could not stand by
and let you marry a man you do not love."

"I have no intention of marrying a man I do not
love," Juliet replied rather crossly.

"I was afraid that your recent trials might have
made you vulnerable," said Benedict. "It is hard, I
know, to be snubbed by your friends, but that hardship would seem as nothing to the abject misery of
a loveless marriage. Have you told your suitor you will
not have him?"

Juliet sighed. "He begged me to take some time to
consider his offer, or I should have given him my
answer immediately. I daresay he is assured of a very
different answer than he will receive, but I cannot
help that."

"You have greatly relieved my mind."

"If I ever do come to you and tell you that I am engaged to be married," Juliet said slowly, "you will
know it is because I am in love and for no other
reason.

"Yes, yes, of course," said Benedict, smiling at her.
"You have no idea of the weight that has been lifted
from my heart. Yes, I daresay his arrogance has led
him to believe you will have him, Juliet. When do you
give him your answer?"

"Tomorrow."

"Good," said Benedict. "There is nothing to be
gained from drawing this thing out." He went on
almost sheepishly, "I don't suppose I could persuade
you to retire very early this evening? With Cary gone
and my aunt indisposed, I can scarcely leave you
alone with Swale, and you know how insupportable
I find his society. I had much rather be going over my
accounts in my study."

Juliet was spared the embarrassment of answering by the arrival of her aunt. Bundled in a shawl, Lady
Elkins arrived, clinging to the arm of Lord Swale
like a burr.

"Look who I found," Swale said proudly.

"My dear aunt, you should be in bed," said Benedict. "You are unwell."

"Nonsense," she replied. "All I needed was a little
rest. I'm fit as a fiddle now. His lordship has promised
me an evening of music. Music is just what I need to
carry away all the pains in my limbs. An evening of
cards would be insupportable, of course, but music
is always delightful."

"There, Benedict,"Juliet whispered to her brother
as Swale settled Lady Elkins into a comfortable chair
with a footrest. "Now you may go to your accounts any
time you like." She looked back at him innocently as
he studied her with narrowed eyes.

"Are you quite sure you're not wearing rouge?"

"Quite sure."

Lady Elkins took her knitting onto her lap, while
Juliet slipped a shawl over her own bare shoulders and
stood next to the piano, turning the pages for Swale
as he began to play. His lordship concentrated on the
piece, and Benedict was forced to admit the man
was a gifted musician. The baronet quietly withdrew
before the second movement, wishing them all a
pleasant evening.

Juliet collapsed on the piano seat next to Swale, who
blew out his breath as if he had been holding it for
an hour. "He doesn't suspect anything," she assured
him quickly. "He was afraid I was going to marry Horatio. He was very relieved when I told him I wasn't."

"That would be a burdensome contract," said Swale,
considerably cheered. "He don't like Horatio either?
That shows some good sense."

"Of course it does. And I swore to him if I ever did
marry, it would be for love." She leaned across him
and smoothed the pages of the score. "Better go on
playing now, Ginger. If he doesn't hear music, he may
think your hands are straying."