Simply Scandalous (42 page)

He grinned at her, his hands moving lightly over the
keys. "Tonight, my love..."

"Oh, yes?"

His voice dipped lower and lower. "'Ere the sooty
winged bat hath flown night's yawn, there shall be done
a deed of dreadful note.' Points on for Shakepeare?"

Juliet grimaced at the mangled quotation. "One
point for trying, but two points off for mucking it up,
I'm afraid. But what are you planning to do?"

"Be-eth thou innocent of the knowledge, dearest
Chuck, till thou applaudeth the deed," he told her
solemnly, making her convulse with laughter.

"What is so funny?" Cary Wayborn suddenly demanded from the doorway.

His surly disapproval had nothing like the effect of
Benedict's cold contempt. Juliet stood up and faced
him defiantly. "You're drunk," she said coldly. "You've
been carousing in the village tavern, I suppose?"

"And the society there was infinitely better than the
society here," he replied rudely.

"Thank you, sir," his sister responded tartly. "You
had better go to bed before Benedict sees you."

"Indeed, my love," said Lady Elkins in a more
gentle tone. "You do look peaked."

"I will go to bed," Cary declared, sweeping his arm
up in a grand gesture worthy of Napoleon himself. "I
will conserve my strength. I will sleep the sleep of the
innocent, while he sleeps the sleep of the guilty." He
pointed at Swale, who stared doggedly at his music. "Good night, my lord," he added, executing a bow
with difficulty.

"Go to bed, Cary," Juliet snapped. "Go to bed
before you fall over."

"You defend him!" Cary cried, beginning to slur his
words. "That'sh rich. He'sh made you the talk of
London, my dear shister. They are placing bets on
whether or not Swale will swucceed in marrying you."

"What?"Juliet and Swale cried at once.

"Look at the innocence on his face," Cary sneered.
"One would almost believe he knew nothing whatever
about it. It was hish friend Devize that started the
pool."

"What are the odds?" Swale asked curiously, but
Juliet quelled him with a glance.

"You see, Julie! The fiend don't deny it!"

"I can't help what they are betting on in LondonI have been here," Swale pointed out. "I haven't bet
on anything."

"As though my sister would ever make such a degrading marriage merely for worldly advantage! " said
Cary. "That is what I told Budgie and Lord Dulwich
when I saw them in the thillage. I will swoot Shale
before I let him marry my sister."

"I'm sure he doesn't mean it, my lord," said Lady
Elkins.

Juliet suddenly felt quite depressed. Tomorrow,
the announcement of Swale's engagement to Serena
would appear in the London papers. That obstacle
would have to be removed before she could even
think of how she would make her brothers accept her
own engagement to Swale, but right now, it all seemed
impossible.

"Go to bed, Cary, please," she said wearily.

Satisfied that he had broken up their gaiety, Gary
went away.

"I swear, Julie, if he weren't your brother-" Swale
muttered.

"I know," she sighed. "Suddenly, I'm very tired.
Would you mind awfully if I went to bed now? Tomorrow is going to be rather a big day for us."

"Not yet," he said, seizing her hands. "In just a few
moments, you will hear your obnoxious brother give
an impression of a rooster laying an egg."

Cary's piercing scream brought Benedict from his
study. Aunt Elinor complained violently that her
heart had just burst, and Juliet let her head fall into
her hands in despair.

"Not so much a rooster laying an egg," Swale said
critically, "as a pig trying on a hat."

"What did you do?" Juliet asked sternly.

Cary himself answered, bursting through the doors
of the drawing room like an avenging angel, with
Benedict not far behind him. Cary was wild-eyed, he
was dressed in his nightshirt, and his hair was standing on end. "Newts! " he roared. "That blackguard has
put newts in my bed. Dozens of slimy, wriggling, nasty
newts! I will teach you, sir, to put newts in my bed."

`Juliet!" cried Benedict at once. "How could you do
such a thing to your brother?"

Cary blinked in surprise.

"Me?" Juliet was indignant.

"Don't deny it, Miss," said her eldest brother, glaring at her. "I caught you red-handed in the hall with
the bucket in your hand! At the time, I assumed I'd
caught you before you had committed your crime. But
now I realize the truth-you were just finishing up."

"Oh," said Juliet. "It was only a harmless little prank. W-welcome home, Cary!" She laughed gaily.
"Nothing says welcome home like a merry prank."

Cary gritted his teeth. "I beg your pardon, Swale,"
he said curtly. "As for you-!" He shook his fist at his
sister. "I'll take your room since you have made mine
uninhabitable. How is that for a merry prank?"

He turned on his heel and strode off.

"I suggest we all go to bed," said Benedict. "You may
board with your aunt tonight, Miss Juliet, after you
have rid my house of newts. Shame on you!"

`Just a moment, Sir Benedict," Swale interrupted.
"Whatever happened to one's being innocent until
proven guilty? Miss Wayborn is entirely innocent. I put
the newts in Cary's bed."

"You cannot protect her by lying, my lord," said
Benedict. "I saw her with my own eyes."

"Cary put a dead rat under my pillow," said Swale.
"Naturally, I retaliated."

"No, he didn't," said Juliet, wincing. "Idid that."

"What?"

"I put the rat under your pillow," said Juliet miserably, unable to meet Swale's blazing green eyes. "You
said no newts, Benedict, but you never said a word
about rats."

"An unforgivable lapse, as it turns out," Benedict
murmured.

"I didn't know it was your pillow," Juliet went on,
turning to Swale. "Cary's letter said he was bringing
someone home. I thought he meant Stacy Calverstock.
I thought if I put him in Hastings and put a rat under
his pillow, he'd go away again the next morning."

"You have been very busy, I see," said Benedict severely.

"I thought it was Cary that put the rat under my
pillow," said Swale, frowning.

"I'm sure it was all a merry prank, my lord," said
Lady Elkins desperately. `Juliet has a very lively sense
of humor. Not everyone appreciates it, of course,
but here we laugh all day long."

"I am not laughing," said Benedict, rather unnecessarily Juliet thought. Rather obvious that he was not
laughing. `Juliet, you will rid my house of all newts and
all rats without any help from the servants. Then
you will go to bed. You will not ride your horse for two
weeks. Is that clear?"

"She'll grow horribly fat," said Juliet, but weakly.

"Billy will exercise her."

"Look here," said Swale. "I am responsible for the
newts. I saw that filthy rat, and all I could think of was
newts. "

"I thought you were on your way to put them in my
room," said Juliet. "I never dreamed you had already
put them in Cary's room."

"I suppose you had Billy put the rat under my
pillow," said Swale.

"Certainly not," said Juliet, deeply offended. "I did
it myself! I don't send servants to do my skullduggery
for me. I did buy the rat," she added a little sheepishly.

"Oh, I paid Billy for the newts," Swale admitted
freely. "Couldn't risk being seen down by the lake.
But I put them in your brother's bed myself. You see,
Sir Benedict, I'm not the kind of man who pays people
to do shady things on my behalf-and neither is Julie."

"Congratulations to you both," Benedict said dryly.
"Only consider my point of view. I don't actually consider my residence a suitable habitat for newts. Since
you and I do not agree on this, my lord, I must respectfully ask you to leave."

"But he only did the newts because of the rat,"
Juliet wailed. "You can't punish him for something I did! Besides, he has to stay. He has to remain with
Gary until the race."

"He can stay at the village inn," said Benedict
inexorably.

"They will say he left because of me,"Juliet objected. "You may as well turn Wayborn Hall into a
leper colony."

Lady Elkins added her lament. "I will never be invited to another card party as long as I live! "

Swale drew himself up to his full height. "If I give
you my word as a gentleman, Sir Benedict-no more
newts or rats-and if I remove all the offensive little
creatures from the house, will you allow me to stay?"

Benedict looked in exasperation at his female relations and silently threw up his hands.

"I'll help you with the newts, my lord," said Juliet,
following Swale from the room. "It is only fair, Benedict. He disposed of my rat."

"My dear aunt," said Benedict. "May l escortyou to
your apartment?"

In Gary's room, Juliet poured a little water into a
basin with steep sides, and she and Swale began collecting the various members of the Triturus family that
had taken up residence in the vicinity of the bed.

"It's not going well, is it?" Juliet said worriedly.

"Temporary setback," he assured her.

Grimacing, she held up a wriggling aquatic salamander by its hind leg and threw it in the basin.
"But what if it doesn't work?" she persisted. "What if
my famous plan fails to free us of our present entanglement? Did you mean what you said about eloping with me?"

"Of course," he said instantly. "I've a hunting box
in Scotland, so establishing residency is no difficulty."

'We wouldn't be able to come back to England until I'm twenty-one," she warned. "Benedict is perfectly
capable of having the marriage annulled."

"Has the man ever smiled?"

"I don't really think Cary would shoot you, but. . .

"Then you don't know him as well as I do," said
Swale. "Don't worry about that though. I'll let him go
first. With his shaky hand, he'll miss me, and I shall
fire into the air."

"You're rather a big target, my love," said Juliet.
"Would you take me to Canada? Your cousin still has
a house on the St. Lawrence River, doesn't he?"

Swale nodded. "Whatever you want, Julie," he said
cheerfully. "We'll paddle around in a canoe for a
while until the dust settles, and then we'll come back
to England."

Juliet rubbed her temples. "It would be better for
your father's sake if we were closer. Could Ireland possibly be as bad as they say?" She sighed. "I'm so tired
I can't think."

"Go on to your aunt then. I'll manage these little
buggers."

"No, don't," she murmured distractedly when he
reached for her. "I'm all newty."

"Don't care."

"In my day," Lady Elkins greeted her niece as the
latter finally came to bed, "one caught a good husband by not putting rats under his pillow. How times
have changed!"

"I know," said Juliet, changing into her nightgown
under the cover of darkness. "I can't think why he puts
up with me, actually. Since the moment we met, I have
done him nothing but wrong. I've publicly accused
him of underhanded perfidy. I threw yarn at him. Then I made him go after my worthless French trollop of a maid. When I hurt my leg, he came to the
Vicarage every day to inquire after my health, and I
wouldn't even see him. Then he comes here."

She slid into the bed beside her aunt.

"I put him in Hastings. Pickering scalped him. I fed
him cheese for dinner. I put a rat under his pillow.
When I found out he was engaged to Serena, I told
him to hire men with sandwich boards to announce
the match to the whole world by strutting around
Hyde Park! And tonight, I nearly got him thrown out
of the house. Tomorrow will be even worse. Tomorrow the announcement appears in the paper, and we
will see how Serena likes it."

"Well, for heaven's sake, keep it up," said her aunt,
who was nearly asleep. "He seems to like it."

"In fact," Juliet whispered, slipping out of bed, "I'd
better go apologize in advance for tomorrow."

"Yes, do," murmured Lady Elkins, rolling over. "He
seems to like that too."

While not without considerable advantages, being
a rake certainly was a stressful business, Swale decided. The part where lovely maidens slipped into
one's bed smelling like the Garden of Eden was all
well and good, but in the cold light of day, one felt
rather guilty.

Marriage, one hoped, would be different. For one
thing, the lovely maiden would not disappear in the
morning like a wraith, and for another, one would not
have to face the lovely maiden's brothers in the breakfast room.

Swale cautiously looked into the room before entering, rejoicing to observe no brothers grazing
among the chafing dishes on the sideboard. The
room was full of food and devoid of humanity, exactly
what he wished for. Thinking himself safe, he picked
up a plate, murmuring happily to himself, "Delenda
est Cathago."

Why the immortal words of Cato the Elder should
have such a remarkable effect on his Juliet he did not
know, but for him, they were now forever associated with
the most exquisite of all carnal delights. "Delenda est Cathago," he told the muffins on the sideboard. They
seemed to quiver at his approach, reminding him of
Juliet.