Earl of Scandal (London Lords) (13 page)

“That’s probably so,” Caroline agreed. “I daresay I wouldn’t wish a rake like you on any woman, certainly not one I liked. And I do like Miss Cassell. She and her sister seem a cut above the rest of Derlingham society. Not only are they obviously well-educated and intelligent, but they have an appealing genuineness and warmth about them. If you proposed to Merissa and she accepted, you could be certain she was marrying you for yourself rather than your money or title.”

Christian reflected that this was true. Merissa was incapable of playing the coy games so many women affected in order to snare a rich husband. It didn’t matter, he thought unhappily as he retrieved his brandy. He and Merissa Cassell came from far too different circumstances to ever get on. Besides, he meant what he’d said. He’d inevitably end up disappointing her, and he could not face the thought of that.

He sat down in one of the brocade armchairs and met his hostess’ gaze. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I know I should not have... ah... been alone with Merissa. But what’s done is done. I did take pains not to sully either her virginity or her reputation. As for her feelings, I’m sorry if I’ve hurt her. But obviously, she is better off without me. You know you can’t argue with that.”

“Unless you truly care for her.” Caroline cocked her head and regarded him with a searching expression. “Even rakes can reform if they fail in love.”

Christian laughed. “Love? There’s no such thing.”

Caroline smiled smugly. “Of course there is. Someday you will be smitten. And then you can suffer and weep as the lady of your dreams treads upon your heart.”

“It’ll never happen.” Christian shook his head emphatically. He had his pride after all. He wasn’t about to grovel before any woman.

Devon cleared his throat. “We still haven’t reached a solution regarding Miss Cassell.” His hazel eyes met Christian’s. “If you have taken liberties with her, you should at least write her a note of apology.”

“Yes,” Caroline agreed. “That’s the least you can do.”

Christian nodded glumly. He owed Merissa that.

~ ~ ~

“Merissa, wake up! A messenger has just brought a letter!”

Merissa dragged herself to a sitting position and moaned. What was Elizabeth going on about? A letter?

Expectation suddenly swept through her. A letter? From Christian? Breathlessly, she fumbled for her spectacles on the nightstand. Why would Christian write her? Unless...

Her mood plummeted. A letter. Cold and impersonal and formal. He was writing to say good-bye. It been a pleasure seducing you, Miss Cassell, but I’ve urgent business to attend to in London and must be away. As the bitter words sounded in her head, she pressed her lips tightly together to quell a sob.

Elizabeth entered the room, eyes wide and alarmed as she held out a letter. “Merissa, you must open it. I’m afraid to.”

Puzzled, Merissa got out of bed, and reached for the packet. It was clearly posted from London. “London? But who...”

“Charles.” Elizabeth’s voice quavered and her whole face seemed to crumple. “I know it’s from Charles.”

“But maybe it’s good news,” Merissa said. “Maybe he’s found a position there and is writing us to let us know he’s all right.”

“Perhaps,” Elizabeth said dubiously.

The look on her face sent a chill through Merissa. Why was her sister so distraught?

With shaking fingers she broke the wafer. She felt the blood drain from her face and an icy chill settle in her stomach as she scanned Charles’ messy, near illegible writing. Desperate circumstances... utterly done up.... debtor’s prison... need your help...

“Merissa, please! What does he say?”

Merissa felt her heart start to pound. She couldn’t let Elizabeth read this. Never.

She folded the parchment over. “He... he’s in trouble. He needs money.”

Elizabeth gasped. “I knew it. I had this feeling when I saw the messenger. Oh, we have to go to Papa with this. He has to know.”

“No!’ Merissa all but shouted. “We can’t tell Papa. We can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because... because he’s overwhelmed with guilt over Charles leaving already. Because there’s nothing he can do. He doesn’t have the kind of money that Charles needs.”

Elizabeth’s mouth worked. “How much?” she whispered.

“It doesn’t matter.” Merissa sat down on the bed. Charles was in debt for an astounding twenty thousand pounds. A fortune. Likely more than her father had earned in his whole life. Of course, Charles knew they didn’t have that kind of money. All he was asking for was twenty or so pounds so he could pay off the interest and keep from “going down the hatches,” as he put it.

Twenty pounds was still a goodly sum. And she knew very well that even if they could scrape together the money, it would be futile to send it to Charles. It would only pay the interest on the sum he owed and stave off the inevitable for a short while. In a few months, or less, he would be in dire straits once more.

She clutched the letter in her hands, thinking furiously. She had to think of a means to settle Charles’ debt completely, so he could return to Whytcliff and be safe. But who had that sort of money? How could she possibly...

An image flashed into her mind. Of Lady Diana standing naked before Christian, offering herself. If Merissa had not interrupted them and they had coupled, would Christian have paid Diana?

Probably not. Lady Diana was obviously already rich. But men did pay women for that sort of thing. Merissa had heard it whispered about. Even in Derlingham there was a woman who was said to sell sexual favors for money. Francine Hammond, of all people, had told Merissa about the woman, tittering all the while. It was a few years ago, before Merissa grew tired of Francine’s insipidity and began to avoid her.

At the time, Merissa had thought the idea very odd. But now, having experienced carnal pleasure herself, it did not seem so incomprehensible that someone would set a price upon such ecstasy.

She stood abruptly, afraid Elizabeth would notice her flaming face. “I’m thinking,” she said. “If you could leave me alone for a time, perhaps I can contrive a plan.”

Elizabeth nodded and sniffed loudly. “I knew something was wrong. I knew it. When I saw the messenger at the door, my heart seemed to fall to the ground. Oh, dear Charles, we have to help him! I don’t care what he’s done! I don’t care that people say he’s shamed us! I love him and miss him so!”

Elizabeth began to cry, and Merissa went and gathered her into her arms. It seemed strange to be comforting her older sister. Elizabeth had always been the one who cared for her. But Elizabeth wasn’t really capable of dealing with the situation they faced. Her soul was too tender and pure to comprehend the harsh realities of life. Although Merissa was five years younger, she knew that she was much more aware of people’s true natures than Elizabeth would ever be.

This time it was up to her to be strong, Merissa thought as she held her weeping sister. She had to find a way out of this disaster. For all of them.

Nine

There was a brisk edge to the air as Merissa turned the team up the drive to Darton Park. She shivered beneath her wrap and considered that spring was so often like this—warm and promising one day, cold and unforgiving the next. But not all the chill inside her came from the air. Some of it was from the pure terror pulsing through her veins. How could she do this? How could she dare?

She gripped the reins more tightly in her gloved fingers and fought for composure. There was no other way. This was the only solution she could think of. The only hope of saving Charles.

As she neared the huge house, the multitude of mullioned windows glinted in the gray light. Such wealth, such luxury. It seemed wicked for anyone to live like this when there were poor unfortunates in the world. But the Northrups weren’t heartless monsters, Merissa reminded herself. They were warm, gracious people. She’d heard they gave generously to charity, took good care of the cotters who worked their lands, and treated their servants with consideration and respect.

It was other members of the titled classes who had earned the reputation for idleness, waste, and depravity. Men like Christian Faraday.

Merissa sighed. She had come here to attempt to take advantage of Christian’s poor character. To use his weakness to save her brother. But would he agree to her proposition? That was the question.

She doubted he would refuse out of moral compunction, but less sure he might not reject her out of simple disinterest. He’d already had his pleasure of her. Why should he be tempted to pay for what tattered remnants of her virtue remained?

She swallowed hard as a footman came to hold the reins so she could alight. Here she was, on the verge of throwing her pride to the winds and offering herself up for Christian Faraday’s casual amusement. It was a terrifying endeavor, and yet, if she succeeded, it would be worth it. Charles would come back to Whytcliff, and life would return to normal. Her father would stop agonizing over the past and perhaps come to enjoy life again. Elizabeth could marry Richard and live happily ever after. And Charles—well, Charles would have to find some steady sort of living. Perhaps go back to Cambridge and pursue his studies responsibly this time.

And her? Why, she would take her sister’s place and look after father. She could never marry. No decent man would have her after this. She’d never been certain she wanted to be married anyway. The idea of being at some man’s beck and call did not appeal to her. Richard might love Elizabeth dearly, but once they were wed, he would expect her to defer to him in all things. That might be acceptable for Elizabeth, but Merissa knew she’d never be able to endure such an arrangement.

She sighed as she climbed the steps to the mansion. It was bad enough that she would have to appear coy and vapid to carry off her current endeavor successfully—to flatter Christian’s ego and appear agreeable and meek so he would desire her. She might be able to manage it for one night, considering what was at stake, but she could not continue such a charade indefinitely.

She reached for the brass knocker. Before she could even use it, the cadaverous butler opened the door. “Miss Cassell,” he said in his cool elegant tones as he let her in and took her wrap. “How delightful to see you again. Come into the sitting room, and I’ll tell Madam that you have come calling.”

“No! I mean, please don’t. You see...” Her voice diminished to a breathy whisper. “I’ve...  I’ve actually come to see Chri... Lord Bedlington.

The butler’s brows rose. “Indeed. I’ll endeavor to fetch him. However, it might take awhile. I suspect he is... rather indisposed at the moment.”

He left the room, leaving Merissa to lurid speculation about what Christian had done to render himself “indisposed” at one o’clock in the afternoon. She could imagine Christian and Lady Diana together, Christian doing to that painted strumpet the very things he had done to her.

Jealousy rose hot and angry inside her. She jerked around, prepared to abandon her plan and flee back to Whytcliff. Then she took a deep breath. No, she could not think of her own feelings in this circumstance. She had to remember her purpose. All the people she loved whose futures hung in the balance.

She walked to one of the exquisitely made chairs grouped by the fireplace and sat down. Her fingers clutched nervously at the flowered muslin of her gown. She’d considered wearing the pink silk that had so inspired Christian’s interest the night before but decided it would be too brazen. Her second best gown would have to do, although it was high-necked and prim by comparison. But, then, Christian already had a fair idea of what womanly charms she had hidden beneath her clothing. A very fair idea.

Heat rose to her face and she began to fidget. Could she be certain that she wasn’t doing this at least partly for herself? So she might wallow in the mindless bliss Christian’s skilled mouth and fingers had already offered? One night of heaven before she began her lifetime of penance?

Oh, she was disgraceful. No matter how she pretended she was making a supreme sacrifice, the truth was, part of her would enjoy her debauchery.

She jumped up as someone cleared their throat. “Lord Bedlington will be down shortly,” the butler announced. “He did ask me to inquire if you’d received his note.”

“Note? What note?” Merissa furrowed her brow. “I passed a groom on the road here, and I thought I recognized him as one of the Northrup servants. But I was in a hurry and did not stop to speak to him.”

The butler nodded. “I see. I’ll tell the earl as much.”

~ ~ ~

“Miss Cassell never received your letter, sir,” Ginter said. “Nor did she give indication why she is here. If I had to conjecture on her mood, I would say that she was nervous. Quite unsettled about something.”

Christian jerked the hot towel off his face and motioned away the valet who was preparing to shave him. “Nervous? You’re certain you don’t mean angry? You’re certain she doesn’t look as if she means to bite my head off?”

“No, sir. That would not be my interpretation of her mood at all.”

Christian leaned back in the armchair and indicated that the servant should continue his ministrations. A groan escaped his lips. By God, he wasn’t really up to this. He knew how he felt about her. His body still throbbed with the memory of the intimacy they’d shared. His body wanted more, much more, and it was not happy about the unexpected denial.

The note he’d finally written last night was a mistake. It was just well she had not received it. He needed to speak to her in person, to explain that he was actually doing her a favor by refusing to continue their acquaintance. That he was being uncharacteristically noble about the whole thing.

He didn’t expect her to like it. But breaking things off now was the proper course of action. His conscience, long unused though it might be, had made that quite clear.

Unfortunate she wasn’t angry. Regrettable she hadn’t come here with her blue eyes flashing and her delicate face flushed with fury. He wished she would slap him and put him down properly. Tell him that he was a cad and a knave and that she never wanted to see him again. That’s what he deserved, and it would make it so much easier for him to remain strong in his resolve.