Every Scandalous Secret (6 page)

“On the whole, it’s favorable. And I’m usually invited to the best parties.”

“But not all, Mr. Wade. Why is that?”

“Perhaps because I’m a second son?”

“Or perhaps your reputation precedes you.”

He shrugged. “It never concerns me one way or the other. I am exceedingly fond of my life.”

“You forgot one other attribute for your perfect wife—youth.”

He arched a brow at her.

“Only a very young woman, fresh from the schoolroom, without any experience of life, would fit your requirements.”

“I am not interested in a lady too young,” he said, shaking his head.

“But you flirt with every young lady here!”

“Flirting serves many purposes, only one of which leads to a wife.”

“And the rest lead to mistresses?” she asked, intrigued.

“Flirting is barely necessary for that.” He grinned at her. “But flirting gives a debutante some excitement, when all she usually knows is her mother’s firm hand. Don’t we all need a little taste of danger, the chance to take a risk, even if it is only flirting with a wicked gentleman?”

Taking a risk—it was as if he could read her mind. “So you would never harm an innocent young lady?”

“Not deliberately, no. Does that appease you, Susanna? Perhaps ease my way into your good graces?”

“Perhaps,” was all she offered.

They walked in silence the rest of the way down the hill, along a faint path through tall grass. It wasn’t until they reached the bottom and swung left to follow it around that she saw the crumbling piles of tall stone that were too orderly to be random, still held upright by ancient mortar. She heard many of the guests gasp with delight.

To her surprise, Mr. Wade’s arm stiffened beneath her hand. She glanced up at him, but he only smiled at her before returning his focus to Lord Bramfield. Her gaze lingered on Mr. Wade for a moment in curiosity, for something seemed . . . different about him.

“You all know we are not far from the town of St. Albans,” Lord Bramfield began, rocking back on his heels as he regarded them all. “The Romans called it Veralumium. They left behind many towns like it when they fled Britain. Just last year, the St. Albans and Hertfordshire Architectural and Archaeological Society was founded to promote interest in local history and research.”

“Is someone overseeing how they define ‘interest’?” Mr. Wade asked.

Susanna stared up at him. She wasn’t alone in her surprise, as several of the women whispered to each other, and Lord Keane rolled his eyes.

Lord Bramfield studied Mr. Wade, seeming to take no offense. “Your meaning, Mr. Wade?”

“I’ve heard that many wish to repair and update old buildings, and there’s a debate about how much interference should be allowed before it alters the work of past craftsmen.”

Lord Bramfield slowly smiled. “You’re correct, Mr. Wade. The Society was formed to ensure adequate discussion before any work is done. We must protect the treasures of our past. I am glad to see you are interested.”

Mr. Wade shrugged. “Not interested, exactly. I merely overheard a conversation at my club.”

Lord Bramfield briefly frowned before turning back to his curious audience. Whether they were curious about relics—or Mr. Wade—Susanna didn’t quite know.

“The scientists studying in St. Albans,” Lord Bramfield continued, “tell me that our Roman wall here might have been part of an outpost leading toward Veralumium from Londinium. If you come closer, you can see the small remains of a mosaic floor.”

Part of the wall had a flattened section, and letters were carved into it. As people rushed forward to look at the mosaic, Susanna held back, trying to make out the Latin words, which used all capital letters and no punctuation, and had also suffered the ravages of time.

She turned to Mr. Wade for help, only to find him staring off into the distance. “Mr. Wade, have you suddenly lost interest? Romans were here before our natives barely had their own writings.”

He glanced at her, wearing his charming smile. “The present matters the most, living life, enjoying oneself.”

“Now you sound very focused on yourself.”

“Trust me,” Mr. Wade said, “I know how to focus on a lady.”

Now that no one was watching him, his glance traveled with heated slowness down her body.

“But the past influenced the present,” she insisted, ignoring his innuendoes. “I thought you understood that a moment ago.” For some reason, she felt he was deliberately distracting her.

“But why should I care? I’ll leave it to the dusty scholars while I concentrate on the present—which I’m certain those Romans did.”

“And their society collapsed.”

“And you’re comparing that to our wondrous British empire?” he asked, spreading his arms wide.

“How can you not even want to know what ancient men wrote? I can make out ‘For the Emperor Titus Cae’—I think it must be ‘Caesar’—then ‘Vesp-’ something, and ‘son of’ . . .”

Mr. Wade shrugged. “Simon did much of my schoolwork for me.”

She stared at him as disappointment suffused her. She’d been foolish to consider even for a moment that he was something other than what he always portrayed.

Mr. Wade gave her a bow, then walked away, joining the group at the wall, to the delight of Miss Randolph, who took his arm. Her mother looked pleased, until Lady Greenwich whispered something to her. Gossip, surely—which Mr. Wade professed to love. Maybe even about himself.

Chapter 5

A
t dinner, Leo studied Susanna from the far end of the table. Lady Bramfield had very pointedly seated him between Mrs. Norton and Lady Greenwich, rather than the young ladies. He didn’t mind. The older women tended to speak to the dinner partners on their other sides, leaving him free to annoy Susanna with his gaze.

And it wasn’t all that difficult to focus on her while still pretending to watch the other young ladies. Her maid had obviously done something new with her hair. It was caught up high on her head, with artful auburn curls strategically positioned as if they were about to tumble free. It made her neck seem elegantly long, graceful, as she turned to smile at something Swanley said.

And no spectacles in sight, much as he knew she kept them on her person at all times.

And then there was the gown—no striped taffeta or embroidered silk for Susanna. But the green satin was rich and evocative, simple enough to highlight the form within it. Yet the bodice was cut low and square, beneath her shoulders, with simple fabric flowers trimming the edge. Hiding the lack of deep cleavage, he guessed, but what she showed was quite delectable enough.

And then, of course, he thought of the painting, where she lay on her back and exposed each gentle slope.

If it was truly her—and he had his doubts.

She never looked at him during dinner, not once, and he knew she was still annoyed with him.

Hell, he was annoyed with himself. Why had he conversed with Bramfield about Roman antiquities, of all things? He’d drawn Susanna’s curiosity, but not in the way he wished. A simple seduction was not going as he’d planned, and he felt a bit frustrated that his usual smooth efforts seemed ineffectual.

But . . . wasn’t that what made this pursuit so unlike any of the others he’d engaged in in the past? That was the true challenge—that he didn’t know exactly how to get to Susanna, how to seduce such an unconventional woman. Gifts and pretty words would never do.

Later, when they gathered in a larger drawing room, the rugs had been rolled back and a quartet brought in to entertain. The ladies were excited by the thought of dancing, especially the young ones. Chandeliers gleamed with candles overhead, and the French windows were thrown open for the night breeze.

He saw Susanna standing beside Lady Caroline, and her enthusiasm was not as evident, especially when Keane swept Lady Caroline away in the dance.

Leo had decided to let Susanna wait, wondering what he meant to do. But no man approached her. Tyler wasn’t even all that far away, but he was looking out the window, as if he could see something spectacular in the dark, damn the man. Every young lady but Susanna was dancing, and Leo found himself bowing before her.

“Miss Leland, would you care to dance?”

She snapped open a fan and regarded him over it. “The waltz has already begun, sir.”

“Then we’ll join.”

He took her hand, leaving the fan to dangle from her wrist as he pulled her into his arms. Within two steps, she trod on his foot.

“I know you can dance better than this,” he said.

“Not when I’m nervous.” She avoided his gaze.

“Why would you be nervous? It’s simply
me.”

“Again.”

“What does that mean?” He swept her through a tight corner, maneuvering her between two slower couples.

“We spend too much time together, Mr. Wade. People are paying attention to that.”

“You mean certain men.”

“No, I mean everyone,” she said calmly. “Whatever you think you’re doing with me, it isn’t working. You risk upsetting me. Why would I want to tell you anything in such a state that might compromise myself?”

“And how will I coerce you to tell me anything, if I
don’t
make you upset?”

Her laughter was almost a groan. “Can you not go play cards, like some of the other men?”

“I’ll retire to that eventually. Just remember that a waltz shows off your form to the gentlemen present. It’s a chance for them to watch you without appearing impolite.”

She shot him a startled glance, then looked away. He remained silent, trusting in the dance itself to ease her qualms. As she relaxed, they moved more easily together. He had imagined most bluestockings as uncoordinated, another good reason for them to remain with their studies. But Susanna put a lie to that reasoning.

“You’re allowing me to lead,” he said at last.

She blinked up at him, chocolate eyes studying him. “I am supposed to.”

“I thought you would resist being led.”

“It’s a dance, not an insurrection—should I define the word for you?”

He grinned. “I seem to recall asking you to spell a word for me that night at my club.”

“You were teasing me during a stressful time. I did not take well to it.”

When the dance ended, she curtsied to him. “This is all the homage you’ll get from me, Mr. Wade,” she said softly, before walking away.

He chuckled, and went to do his duty with another partner. He’d never considered it a duty before to have an awed young thing in his arms, but tonight he felt . . . impatient. He thought of Julian and Peter and wondered at the methods they were using to coerce the truth about the painting out of two reluctant women. It wasn’t the money that was important to Leo, nor defeating two very worthy opponents. He’d used both of those goals at first, a way to combat his growing, confusing restlessness. But somehow this challenge had become all about Susanna, understanding her, defeating her—winning her. Having her was growing more important than the wager, than even the truth.

S
usanna stood near the open windows, letting the breeze cool her damp skin. She’d danced more this night than she had at crushes of two hundred people. Though pleasantly tired, she felt satisfied with her performance. She’d danced with every man there, even Mr. Tyler—when he was practically forced by his hostess—who could only stammer about the weather and looked past her shoulder rather than into her eyes. Perhaps he was trying not to stare into her cleavage, but she was only deluding herself.

Lord Swanley brought her champagne, and she sipped it gratefully, looking up into his eyes so far above her.

“Thank you, my lord. You are rescuing a lady in distress.” Was she actually
flirting
now, she thought, feeling her cheeks redden with heat. Rebecca would be stunned!

Though she smiled at the viscount, inside a lump seemed to lodge in her throat. She didn’t remember the last time she’d spent even a few days apart from her sister. Though they were dissimilar in temperament and dreams and so many other things, they shared the fierce bond of sisterhood. What would Rebecca think of how Susanna was opening herself up to the chance of suitors? Their cousin Elizabeth Cabot would be proud since she thought only marriage could give a woman fulfillment.

But Rebecca? No, Rebecca had been ready for adventure for a long time, and the wager over the painting seemed to give her a new purpose. But Susanna always knew that Rebecca would someday find a husband to love her. Susanna knew Rebecca wanted the same for her.

Of course, Susanna wasn’t a success yet since no man but Mr. Wade spent an inordinate amount of time with her, but she wasn’t expecting a sudden thunderclap of love.

“You look pensive,” Lord Swanley said. “Would it be impolite to ask what you’re thinking?”

What a refreshing change—a gentleman who considered her feelings. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes—wasn’t that how Elizabeth told her to do it? “That your parents are wonderful hosts to bring in music and make this such a special evening.”

He nodded, grinning down at her, his black hair falling across his forehead. “They do enjoy a party. And now that my sister is of age, it gives them even more reason to introduce her—”

“And to introduce you?” she interrupted, smiling.

He laughed. “Yes, and me, to other young people in a more personal setting.”

“Lord Swanley, I do believe you must have no problem yourself in that regard.”

He cleared his throat and looked abashed—she found him just adorable.

“I am not so much a fool that I believe my charming personality alone makes me attractive to young ladies,” he said wryly. “I am heir to a marquisate, and there are some who care more for that than anything else.”

“I understand,” she murmured, taking another sip of champagne. “I am cousin to a duke. It is an inducement to some.”

He nodded. “So I’ve decided to leave it up to my parents.”

She coughed for a moment, covering her mouth. “Excuse me?”

“Since I can never fully trust a lady’s motives, I’ve decided that they have my best interests at heart. I’m certain whoever they choose will make me perfectly happy—make both of our families happy. And until then, I’m free to enjoy my youth without the pressure of looking for a suitable match.”

“How very wise,” she murmured.

What he said was true of many people, of course, both men and women, who often had no choice in their marriage. But usually these beleaguered souls . . . struggled a bit against their fate. Not Lord Swanley, she thought ruefully. She couldn’t imagine so blindly accepting another’s choice. This was
her
life—she would have her say.

When he bowed and took his leave, promising another dance later, she watched him go, feeling melancholy. She wasn’t sure that such a man actually had a will of his own.

Or perhaps he just hadn’t met a woman worth fighting for, she told herself.

“Miss Leland, I trust you’re enjoying yourself?”

Susanna turned to find Lord Greenwich standing beside her, offering another glass of champagne. Strangely, hers was empty, so she gladly accepted.

“The evening is lovely, my lord,” she said, knowing it the truth even if she only meant the weather.

“I saw you speaking with Swanley. A good man,” Lord Greenwich said.

“I didn’t know him well before this house party, but I’d have to agree with you.”

“Concentrate on someone like him—not Wade.”

Jolted, Susanna took another sip of champagne and raised wide, innocent eyes to the earl. “Mr. Wade? Why would you mention—”

“Miss Leland, you are an innocent. Wade is paying too much attention to you.”

“But . . . is that not what a young lady wants, a suitor?”

“Wade is no one’s idea of a suitor,” he said darkly.

“Why, my lord? I have heard rumors, of course, but that is gossip. How can one tell what is true or not?”

“What is true is that involvement with him can harm a young lady’s reputation.”

He must have seen something in her face because he quickly added, “Not that anyone believes so of you, Miss Leland.”

She calmed her suddenly racing heart. It wouldn’t do for people to think she and Mr. Wade were an item.

“I am speaking of another young lady altogether,” Lord Greenwich insisted.

“Just one in particular? And you’re saying this is not a rumor?”

He looked about as if for eavesdroppers, then lowered his voice. “One young lady was a flirtatious girl, given to dancing and socializing, but not in an inappropriate manner—until she was caught up with Mr. Wade. She spent too much time in his company.
Alone,
” he emphasized. “Soon she was regarded as fast, her reputation quite ruined. And once it was discovered that her dowry was insubstantial, she had nothing else to recommend her.”

Susanna swallowed. “So she is unmarried still?”
A spinster like me,
she thought.

“Ahem,” he said, looking down to his toes. “No, she was lucky enough to find a man who married her, regardless of her . . . situation.”

“Oh.”

“But not before she had to lower herself by working as a companion to an elderly lady,” he added, frowning.

“Thank you so much for your words of caution, Lord Greenwich,” she said solemnly. “Have no fear. I know what kind of man Mr. Wade is.”

“Excellent. I was worried that a woman of your . . .” He trailed off, his face reddening.

She tilted her head, tempted to make him explain. Her age? Her bluestocking proclivities? But she resisted the impulse, saying, “My unmarried situation?”

“Yes, yes, I was simply worried that an innocent woman such as yourself wouldn’t understand a man like Wade.”

“Thank you for your concern, my lord, since my own father is not here to advise me.”

“Do give the professor my regards,” he said, bowing before leaving her.

Susanna took another glass of champagne from a passing waiter. She was feeling warm and a bit giddy, and although she knew it was the alcohol, she didn’t mind. Lord Greenwich wasn’t telling her anything she hadn’t heard whispered about, but the fact that he knew an actual woman so harmed by Mr. Wade was troubling. Did the man really care so little for whom he might hurt? Had he been lying when he told her he didn’t harm debutantes? Or was this young woman older—and presumably wiser—and that was how he’d justified his behavior? Her gaze searched him out and saw him standing near Miss Norton, smiling down at her in that rakish way of his.