A Breath of Scandal: The Reckless Brides (28 page)

“You’ve had no prospects? None at all?”

“Nothing. I’ve even applied to the Revenue Service. But they’ve a glut of junior officers, as well.”

“God’s balls, Marcus. Has it really come to that?”

“It has. It’s come to such a point that you’re also to buy me a good hot meal as the cost of my advice.”

“Cheap at twice the price. Come, let us see what we can find in a decent beefsteak and claret. And I will give you a better offer. How would you like to make your fortune in the East India trade?”

Will fed his friend, arranged to meet him in London, and when he returned to Downpark’s luxuries the next morning, he was chastened and grateful, and only a little less gloomy than when he had left. He had only got his heart and his pride trod upon, while other men’s lives and livelihood were falling apart. He was only upset, while many others were approaching desperate.

Perhaps he should have written to his father, to see if the earl were willing or able to use his sway in the government to his benefit, but the idea still rankled. Will had always prided himself in keeping his career separate and independent from his family, and his father’s influence. But when he walked across the threshold and into the house, there was the man himself.

His father greeted him as if he had come from the next room, and not from a port miles away. “Ah, William, there you are. I was hoping to find you this morning.” As if he had always been at Downpark and not halfway around the world for the past ten years.

“Father.” Will took the hand his father so generously offered. “I had no idea you were here. How long have you been home? Why are you not in London?”

“Easter recess, my boy. Parliament cannot argue all the year round, thank God—they need to break from their ways at least once in a while. And I found that your brother James was looking for my advice and approval in the matter of a bride. Come in and sit with me.” He turned and led the way down the corridor. “I have some things I would discuss with you.”

Earl Sanderson was not a man who needed to raise his voice. He was an imposing man still in the prime of life, who, at the age of four and fifty had managed to remain as tall and handsome as he ever had been at five and twenty when he had married his countess. Even the gray that liberally salted his hair and dusted his temples made him look more distinguished, and contributed to his air of commanding authority—an air he had passed on to his sons. He had a strength of character and an inborn authority that brought people naturally to do his bidding. His son was no different.

“Certainly, sir.” Will followed his father into his book room, where his father took an armchair near the hearth, and bid his son to do the same. “Are James and Mama, and the others as well, not gone to London?”

“They left yesterday, but I would stay behind a day or so. How was Portsmouth? This retrenching regime for the navy will lead us to a bad end, I fear. How are the prospects there?”

“Dismal.”

“Hmm. I cannot like that.”

“I fear you will like my plans to try my hand at the East India trade even less.”

His father made a philosophic face. “Not necessarily. Are you concerned about engaging in mercantile trade?”

“Not especially.” Will had been a working officer for too long to quibble about the distinctions of who was a gentleman and who was not. A captain was a captain, no matter the ship.

“And have you quite made up your mind?”

“Not entirely. I had planned to go up to London Monday next to speak to a man at East India House about what may be arranged. But now, after Portsmouth, I don’t see how it can be avoided.”

“I see. But we will not dwell on what we can do nothing at the moment to change.” His father changed the topic. “I find your brother has at last set his sights on a rather famous local beauty, Miss Cassandra Preston.”

“Yes,” Will allowed cordially. But inwardly he groaned. This was not a topic he wanted to discuss with his father, and the less said on the subject of the Prestons from him, the better.

“Momentous decision, choosing a wife.” The earl settled himself more comfortably into his chair. “But I feel certain James has gone about it in the right way. He’s nothing if not thorough, that boy.”

Oh, yes, James and his pursuit of his famous local beauty had been entirely aboveboard and correct. No sneaking around in the dark or kissing by ruins for them. But, when Will thought about it in that way, perhaps James’s courtship had not been so
thorough
after all.

“Well, I had come to give my opinion of the young lady and her family, but I know them of old. Peter Preston was a highly respected mathematician and scholar. I have no reason not to give my consent.”

And so it was done, just as neatly and quickly as James had told him it would be. And Miss Cassandra Preston was to be his sister-in-law.

God’s balls. His brother was going to marry her sister. He was going to be reminded of Preston for the rest of his life. If family resemblance ran strong, he might have nieces or nephews that looked like her—children who would look up at him with her clear, uncompromising eyes. God help him.

Will allowed himself only to nod in agreement, but his father was a wily old campaigner, and was not to be so easily outmaneuvered.

“I will admit to some early concern.” His father leaned back in his chair with a smile. “I was concerned when reports came to me that you might have set yourself up in competition with your brother over Miss Preston, but I should have known that you would find yourself much more intrigued by the spitfire audacity of young Miss Antigone.”

Damn his eyes. Will swallowed hard over the fist stuck in his throat. “Intrigued?” That was as tame and respectable a description as ever might be tried.

“Intrigued by Miss Antigone Preston,” his father enunciated clearly. “Our neighbor from West Sussex. I’m sure you will recall her. Lovely girl. Out-and-out rider, I’m told, with a hell of a great mare. Perhaps now you might take off your coat. Gaines? Ah, thank you, man.” He took up the glass of brandy proffered by the butler, and waited as Gaines relieved Will of the burden of his sea coat.

The earl took a long, ruminative drink, and sat quietly considering his second son over the top of his glass. “Funny,” he began. “I never thought of you as impetuous. I can’t imagine you could act in such a manner aboard ship or you would never have gotten so far in your career.”

“No,” Will answered hesitantly, unsure where the conversation was going. But his father was right. At sea, he conducted himself with the sternest self-discipline. “No, I’ve never—”

“Been in love before,” his father finished amiably. “No, I don’t imagine you’ve had the time.”

And there it was, so baldly stated he could not evade it. It had to be something, this strange combination of anger, amusement, and frustration thumping through his veins at the merest thought of her. But was it love?

His father smiled again at Will’s shocked silence. “With the current legislation on the Corn Laws having come to a highly predictable and no doubt equally violent conclusion,” Earl Sanderson offered companionably to his son, “I have been rather too involved in the business of Lords and not involved enough in the business of the Jellicoes. But I have come to change that. And to see to my sons, who may or may not be making a hash of it.”

“How did you know?” It was damnable that anyone else in his family might know, or even guess, at what Will thought to have been his private business.

“My dear boy, it is my business to know what goes on in my household. And out of it,” his father answered benignly, taking no offense at William’s hot tone. “I think you might be surprised by all the things that I know. Especially about you.”

Will had the distinct feeling he was about to get one of the worst dressing-downs he had ever experienced in his life. He shifted uncomfortably in the chair, waiting with resignation for his father’s displeasure.

“At my time of life, I have a great many friends, who go a great many places and do a great many things,” his father continued in his usual even tone. “And they like to tell me these things. For example, one friend might tell me ‘your boy was noted for conspicuous bravery in the action off Brest,’ or ‘your second led a boarding party very successfully in close action.’ And another might tell me he recently saw you tooling down the London Road in company with a lovely girl. ‘Made a handsome pair,’ he told me. And so you do if I remember the girl correctly.”

Earl Sanderson considered his second son for another moment before he continued.

“Or, more to the point, I have friends who tell me my son has been making assignations in the middle of the night in Petersfield Close, and carrying on in the Jolly Drover. Oh, don’t look so surprised,” he said wryly at Will’s flushed countenance. “He is
my
coachman, and he is very discreet. And so have you been for the most part. I doubt anyone besides Broad Ham and myself, and possibly your sister, Claire, understands the true nature of your involvement.”

There was almost nothing Will could say that would not embarrass them both at this point.

The earl paused for a moment to take another sip of his brandy. “If I may say so, your desire for discretion speaks very highly of the strength of your character, and of your attachment to her. I should very much like to tell you that your character, your sense of honor, and your conduct have always, in every instance, made me very proud to be your father. You have become a man of your word, and you match your word with deed and action.”

Will was stunned by the magnitude of all that this unexpected speech encompassed. He felt entirely exposed, as if his private thoughts as well as his private actions had been laid bare, not only to his father, but also, for the first time, to himself.

If he was in love with the girl, damn his eyes, he hadn’t the faintest idea what to do about it. At the moment, he could manage to say only, “Thank you, sir.”

“This country does well enough,” his father mused, “but it would do a damn sight better if it were run less on influence and more on merit. Influence most assuredly got you your midshipman’s berth, but I have always known you had more than enough merit to earn your own way. And you certainly have. Because I always thought you were the type of man to prefer it that way. You were as a boy. You most often saw assistance as interference.” He looked solemnly at his son. “Have I been wrong?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s my boy. You’re your own man.” His father nodded approvingly. “So what do you propose to do about your Miss Preston?”

“Miss Antigone Preston.” Will wanted to make very sure there was no confusing or misunderstanding between the two young women.

“Yes, dear boy, yes, Miss Antigone.” The earl smiled into his brandy. “I may be growing to be an old man, but not so old as to confuse the two Miss Prestons. They are both assuredly gems, but while one of them has been polished to a high sheen, the other has been left a diamond in the rough. I understand she dealt splendidly with that ass Stubbs-Haye?”

“A riveting right cross.”

“Splendid.” His father tipped his smile up to the ceiling to savor it. “Just so. A sharp little diamond in the rough.”

Will felt himself smile, too, but his father’s levity could not solve his dilemma. What did he propose? Was there even anything that could be done? “Unfortunately, Father, I fear my feelings in the matter are of no account. She is engaged to be married.”

“Oh.” His father turned the corners of his mouth down, nonplussed. “I had not realized. I had thought you both rather single-minded in your pursuit of one another.”

So had Will. The loss of her still burned deep, raw and aching. “Apparently not.”

“And who, if I may ask, is your rival for the lady’s hand?”

“Lord Aldridge.” The name left just as bad a taste in his mouth, as it had in Preston’s.

His father grew still. “Evelyn Aldridge?”

“Of Thornhill Hall? Is there another?”

“No, thank God.” The Earl Sanderson put down his drink, and rose to pace toward the bookshelves.

“You don’t like him.”

“No,” his father agreed, and moved to the fireplace to lean his arm against the mantelpiece. “Never have.”

In all the years that Will had known his father as an adult, and corresponded with him at sea, he had never heard or seen his father indulge in something so personal or unprofessional as
dislike
. If the Earl Sanderson went so far as to dislike Aldridge, Will knew he had to have a damn good reason. “What do you know of him?”

His father’s look was all high brows and heavenward eyes. “Enough to know that he is not a man who should marry. And certainly enough to think it a tragedy that he should marry that poor young girl. Is it a certain thing, then?”

“I have no reason to think otherwise. Mrs. Preston said as much when she was here for tea with Mama, some days ago.”

The earl passed a weary hand over his eyes. “A pity, though her mother cannot know what she is doing.”

The feeling of haunting, scalded regret propelled Will to his feet. “And what is she doing?”

“Throwing that girl away on a man who will never appreciate her.”

“Father, enough riddles and polite couching of unpleasantries. What do you know?”

His father looked him in the eye. “He has an unhealthy appetite for boys.”

Will had lived in the world, and lived in the navy for far too long to be shocked or dismayed by the existence of different sexual appetites. But his father was implying something more. “Boys? Not men?”

“Boys. As young as possible, from what I understand. It’s all very unsavory.” He crossed the room to take up his glass again, and take a long, fortifying drink. “There had been instances in the past—old scandals that seem long forgotten by most. Aldridge has managed to keep his nose clean for many years now, at least here in the country, where censure and disapproval were once at its height. Or rather, he has not created any problems that I am aware of. He controls himself evidently, until he is London, and the trade in such easily exploited children is much more readily available.”

The anger that rose inside him was like bloodlust—blind and deaf to reason. “She can’t know. Her mother can’t know.” Even as he said it, he could not convince himself. There had been something in her manner that day. Something guilty and uncomfortable. Something of the wild animal caught in a cage that knows full well entrapment will kill them. Something resigned. “How is that possible?”