Ripe for Scandal (31 page)

Beau nodded grimly. “Though claiming paternity isn’t the same as admitting to the marriage. She’ll have to prove that first.
If theirs was a typical irregular marriage, it will come down to testimony from their servants, neighbors, and clergy.”

“Is there any chance at all of keeping it quiet?”

“Do you mean is there any chance of your father, Souttar’s new wife, and the
ton
not finding out?” She shook her head, lower lip caught between her teeth. “No. She’ll be entitled to a third of his property,
just as though he’d died, and I imagine she’ll have to sue in an English court to get it, which will cause additional problems
and possibly drag the case out for years. Even if Souttar just wanted to give it to her, your father would have to be told
in order for him to do so.”

“So Souttar’s best hope is that the marriage can’t be proven, but even so, the scandal will be enormous. Once the suit is
brought, and his name is attached, it will be in every paper in the British Isles.”

“Do you think he even knows?” Beau said. Pity his brother didn’t deserve was writ plainly on her face. Or maybe it was pity
for Lady Olivia. Lord knew someone ought to be thinking of her in all of this.

“He must have an inkling by now,” Gareth said. “The
sword of Damocles is dangling over his head and has been for months. Can you imagine his panic?”

“I’d rather not,” Beau said with a shiver, lifting his arm and pulling it around her. “It’s a disaster for everyone involved.
All I want is to get Jamie back. Whatever else happens is secondary and beyond our control.”

CHAPTER 44

G
ranby cursed as the street twisted again, winding through the sooty streets of Edinburgh. Somewhere in the muddle of stone
buildings was his goal. At first, it had been hard to pick up the trail in Yorkshire, but once he had—thanks to a coachman
with no love for their northern neighbors—the man who’d delivered the child hadn’t been that hard to trace. A Scottish man
traveling with a child and no woman with them—well, that was unusual enough to be memorable to many. Add in the fact that
the man’s accent was so thick as to be unintelligible and you had a very memorable man indeed.

Granby had gleaned enough of a description to trace his way back along the route of the mail coaches that he’d taken all the
way to Edinburgh. Along the way, he’d discovered the man was a lawyer. One Mr. Budel. Further inquires had uncovered offices
in Bell’s Wynd.

All that was left to do was find the child’s mother, or at the very least obtain proof of her marriage to Gareth Sandison.
If she was preparing a libel for divorce, all
the better. The news would be catastrophic, and it would travel the length of the country on mercurial wings. If she wasn’t,
she’d have to be pressured into doing so, and his possession of her son ought to be more than persuasive.

A trio of dogs ran yapping through the street, a boy in ragged breeches and coat chasing after them, a brace of rats hanging
over one shoulder. A heavy dray shuddered to a stop, the driver cursing and waving his fist at the boy. Granby shrank back
against the wall to avoid the mud-caked wheels. The door to Budel, Dunlop, and Piget opened, and a silver-haired gentleman
stepped out.

Granby looked more closely as the man walked quickly past him. Not Gareth Sandison. His brother, Lord Souttar. A sick feeling
crawled up his spine. He crossed the street and went quickly through the door that Sandison’s brother had just exited.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“I’m looking for Mr. Budel,” Granby said.

A squat man, well past his prime, stuck his head into the room. “Yes?”

“Mr. Giles,” Granby said, extending his hand, the false name coming easily. “I’m working on behalf of Lord Souttar. I was
delayed, and I think I missed our appointment. I need to see the file for his case.”

“I can assure you it’s all in order, sir. The marriage is thoroughly documented and attested to, and in light of his second
marriage, my client will have no trouble obtaining her divorce. You may see it all when we go before the commissionaires.”

“So the lady will be seeking to prove her marriage to Lord Souttar?”

“She will.”

Granby ground his teeth as rage flushed through him. All this for nothing. Nothing. Without another word, he spun on his heel
and marched out.

When returned to the inn where he’d left Nowlin, it was to find the man hurriedly packing. “Going somewhere?”

“There are men looking for you, sir.”

“What men?”

“I don’t know. I just know I heard a man asking after you by name. He gave a description as well: a one-eyed Englishman, possibly
traveling with a child. It was the child they were most interested in. Offered a reward for any information leading to the
boy’s discovery.”

“And what were they told?”

“Nothing. Only the innkeeper’s wife was present in the taproom, and she hasn’t seen you.”

“Well, she has now. I wondered about the startled look she gave me.”

“Then let’s get out of here, sir.” His voice had taken on a high-pitched whine. “Before she brings them down on us.”

“A wise suggestion.” Granby tossed his things willy-nilly into his trunk. “Take this down and have the carriage put to. I’ll
slip out the back and meet you in the yard.”

The Irishman set his own bag atop the trunk and hefted them both. Granby spun about, mulling over the information. They wanted
the boy back, did they? He might not be able to ruin Beau’s marriage, but he could still take away something she wanted and
leave her supremely unhappy. He just had to make sure that she could never find the boy.

He sauntered down the back staircase, slipping past a
harassed-looking maid in a checkered gown and mobcap, and emerged into the busy yard feeling better than he had in days. His
postchaise had already been brought out, and the last of the four horses necessary to pull it was being hitched.

Granby climbed in and waited for Nowlin to join him. The Irishman swung the door shut behind him and threw himself into the
rear-facing seat.

“Another thought occurs to me, Nowlin. Just what did you do with the boy?”

“Dumped him, sir. Just like you said to.”

“And if we wanted to find him again?”

“Then you’d be searching all over England. I dropped him off near a gypsy encampment. Gypsy traders are always willing to
take a stout boy on, or so I’ve been told. They could be anywhere by now.”

CHAPTER 45

G
ot word from The Three Crowns,” Leo said with a martial gleam in his eyes. “A one-eyed Englishman was seen leaving there in
the company of an Irishman. No sign of a child though.”

Beau leapt out of her chair and ran to hug him, her skirts nearly tripping her in her haste. “They could have stashed him
away. Do we know which direction they went? Is the carriage being readied? Where is Devere?”

“Slow down,” her brother said, hands gripping her shoulders. “Devere is already on the road. As soon as Sandison pays your
shot, we’ll follow.”

Gareth burst into the room in a whirlwind, hair untidy, a feral smile lighting up his face. Beau felt her heart turn over.
This was the man she’d fallen in love with.

“Let’s go, love,” he said, taking her by the hand and hurrying her along. “He’s on the move, and we’ve got him in our sights.
We just have to be patient a little longer.”

“I’m not feeling patient at this point,” Beau said as they pelted down the stairs.

Her brother gave a bark of laughter, causing the inn’s cat to bolt from her place at the bottom of the stairs. “If we have
to resort to torture, we’ll give you first rights.”

Beau took Gareth and Leo both by the lapels of their coats, holding them tightly, bound together. “Promise me. Promise me
we’ll do whatever it takes.”

Gareth covered her hand with his own and squeezed. “You know we will, brat. We’re none of us good at losing. Your beastly
brother least of all. Now up with you.”

Beau let her husband boost her into the carriage. He and Leo stood with their heads together, one pale, the other dark, conferring
in low, urgent tones. Just as though no estrangement had ever taken place. That was as it should be. If nothing else came
out of this, at least one good thing had occurred.

“What?” Gareth said upon entering the coach.

“It’s nothing.” Beau swiped a hand over a misty eye and smiled back at him. How could she put it into words? Horror and pain
on one side of the scale, friendship and happiness on the other. They didn’t balance out, and one didn’t make up for the other,
but the warm glow inside her when she saw them together again was undeniable.

“Liar.”

“I never lie.”

Gareth raised an eyebrow in mocking disbelief. Beau reached out to cup his cheek, smoothing her thumb over the wayward brow.

“Ask Leo if you don’t believe me.”

Gareth caught her hand and kissed the palm, lips warm even through the leather of her glove. He tugged the glove off, using
his teeth to loosen each finger. “The
last thing I want to do is talk to your brother at the moment.”

Desire mingled with guilt. Guilt over Jamie warred with the guilt of disappointing Gareth. She’d sworn to make him happy,
and all she’d really managed was to cause him strife and trouble.

“Refusing the small pleasures in life won’t bring Jamie back a moment sooner,” Gareth said, hands already fumbling with the
fall of his breeches. He took her mouth, hard, tongue dueling with hers. “Touch me.” His hand guided hers to his cock.

Her hand closed around his shaft, and his breath hissed out of him. “I’ve been a bad wife,” she said softly. A bad wife who
hadn’t lived up to her pledge, if only in her own eyes.

“No, you’ve been an understandably distracted one.”

Beau held back a smile. He was, perhaps, being more generous than she deserved. She loosened her grip slightly and swirled
her palm over the still-swelling head. With a slither of linen and silk, she slid to the floor of the coach.

Gareth held his breath as Beau swung herself out of his lap and onto the floor. Her mouth, hot and wet, slicked over the head
of his cock. Gareth gripped the seat, wanting to thrust his hands into the head of curls spilling over his lap. Heat engulfed
him, spread through his veins, and sapped his will. Her lips followed the tight circle of her hand, the stroke now slick.
She sucked, and his vision fluttered.