Invitation to Scandal (6 page)

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Authors: Bronwen Evans

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

BOOK: Invitation to Scandal
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So how could he find her again? He loved the thrill of the chase. He would locate the woman and seduce her. With grim determination, Rufus knew he’d find a way. He needed information and she had some. Still, there was no question that her lush loveliness entranced him.
This time he would not forget his mission. Not only did he have a job to do, this traitor was the key to untangling his father’s disgrace. He would not rest until he’d cleared his father’s name and restored the Strathmore honor. If that was at all possible.
He grinned. Despite his mission, he would enjoy a dalliance. No, not just a mere dalliance, he felt a restless aching need to possess her. He wanted the fascinating beauty in his bed regardless of what he could learn from her.
His eyes narrowed. No. The mission must come first. He’d waited more than twelve years. His own redemption hung on his success.
Damn. He knew his thoughts were false. The vixen had burrowed under his skin. He wanted her. And Rufus Knight, eighth Viscount Strathmore, always got what he wanted.
 
“Are you in trouble?” Meg asked as she made the boys sit at the small table in the middle of her cramped but clean cottage. Meg might not have much, but what she did have she looked after. Rheda could see her own reflection in the rickety polished table and chairs, and the ratty armchairs by the fire, although worn, showed not a speck of dust. “He certainly looks like trouble,” Meg added. She placed the children’s bowls of stew in front of the hungry younger lads and turned to offer Rheda a drink of fresh lemon.
Meg’s face searched hers, filled with motherly concern. Rheda pushed her hair off her face. “I’m not sure. I could be.”
“Who is he? He’s a gentleman, obviously. That was prime horseflesh I saw.” Meg’s face broke into a smile. “And he was prime man as well. Handsome as a devil sent to tempt.”
Rheda’s face heated, and she couldn’t hold Meg’s gaze. “Lord Strathmore. He found me with the barrel and stopped to help. I’d become trapped against a tree. I’m just thankful he found me before the Revenue men.” A shiver skittered down her back. The Revenuers had been trying to catch anyone with unstamped goods for months. She was in no doubt that Lord Strathmore had been correct when he said they’d use any means necessary to extract information from her. Her blood turned to ice imagining what could have happened.
“You can’t keep doing this, Rhe. It’s too dangerous. You have too much to lose if you are caught. Not like us village folk. You’ve done enough for this town. And you’ve all but saved Tumsbury Cliff Manor. Daniel’s a grown man. Let him take over the burden of providing.”
Rheda glanced over to the boys. “How can I stop? Most of the neighboring widows rely on what Dark Shadow provides them in order to survive. What will happen to them? To their children?”
Meg’s face tightened. “Maybe Daniel would continue to support them?” she asked, but it wasn’t truly a question.
Rheda gave a short laugh. “Daniel is becoming like most men, despite my influence. I fear he’s becoming blinded by the idea of a rich and influential barony. That’s all he thinks about.” Rheda hung her head. “Sometimes I despair of my own brother. He grows more like Father every day.” In a whisper she added, “I don’t think I could stand that.”
Meg turned to the stove and began dishing out more stew. Hot and fragrant, it smelled divine. Rheda’s stomach pinched reflexively. She watched Meg walk and slide the bowl in front of her eldest son, Connor. When she looked up, Meg was watching her.
“What of your other scheme? Over summer all the women could pool their cut. We can live off the fish we catch and vegetables we grow. Would that be enough for stud fees?”
“Who’s going to do the fishing?” Rheda said with uncharacteristic sharpness. “Perhaps their husbands? Oh, wait. Their husbands have died at sea, or are in prison for smuggling, or they’ve simply walked out on them. Or mayhap they have a man who is one of the better ones,” she added with a brittle smile. “The sort who gambles, and whores, and provides better for their fancy women than his children.”
She grabbed the next bowl from Meg’s hand and set it down a bit too hard on the table. Some slopped over the side. She and young Connor looked at each other.
“I could do the fishing. I’m old enough,” he interjected.
Rheda forced a smile, patted his head, and turned back to the stove.
“Eat your meal and don’t interrupt,” Meg said gruffly. But she bent and kissed his head, proud of her son’s offer.
“I have been beating the odds for over five years, Meg,” Rheda said quietly, “and I will not stop now. Not for the Revenue men, nor fines, nor all the rest.”
Meg paused in adding more stew into a bowl. “Not even if the coin involved in your smuggling ends up in Napoleon’s coffers?”
Rheda hesitated, then shrugged her shoulders. “Incidental, and not my intent. That’s why I only trade in goods which I sell for coin. In any event, when I get my horse stud started, I’ll be helping the war effort. I’ll supply our troops the finest cavalry horses and be done with smuggling.” She tried to end on a triumphant note and smiled brightly. “I just need a bit more time.”
“That’s what you’re running out of. The government’s determined to stem smuggling. And you know what they’ll do to you if you’re caught?”
Rheda nodded and looked away, into the bubbling pot. Yes, she knew. Prison. Or if she was really unlucky—transportation.
Meg shoved a bowl filled with stew into Rheda’s cupped hands. The broth inside was warm, but Meg’s next words chilled her. “There’s been news, Rhe. They’re stepping up their patrols of the beaches. There will be Revenue men in every port, on every beach. Any time. You need to find a way out. Now.”
She looked out the window, down the path to where she’d last seen Lord Strathmore. Was her hunch right? Was he a government man? She cupped the bowl tighter, so that the warmth started to chase away the chill seeping through her bones. Whether he was or wasn’t, he was still trouble. Or maybe he was just what she needed. Her brain began whirling with ideas. “I might just have found a way,” she murmured.
The sound of the boys slurping their food and the crackle of the stove were the only sounds in the stuffy room. Rheda silently ate her stew, all the while thinking up her grand plan. Glancing at Meg she stated, “I only need a few more months. I’m quitting at the end of summer. I should have enough stores by then to carry everyone until I sell the first foal.”
Meg’s face screwed up. “Foals? What foals? I thought you couldn’t afford a stallion?”
Rheda moved to hug Meg good-bye. “I don’t, but Lord Strathmore may come in useful there. Or at least his stallion.”
Meg pushed her away. “I don’t like that look on your face. It means trouble. What are you planning? You can hardly ask to borrow his horse when you’ve just pretended you’re someone you’re not.”
She slid Meg a sly smile and made her way to the door, her shoulders straight, her step light. “Who said I had to ask?”
“Lordy,” Meg said as if in prayer, “you’re inviting trouble.”
Chapter 5
 
D
avy Appleton hurriedly picked up the line holding his fish. He didn’t wait to clean it. He knew his mother would worry unduly if he was late home. He’d stayed out too long in his rowboat, but the fish took so long to bite in the hot weather that he’d had to wait until almost sunset to get a bite. He was pleased with his catch. He’d caught a large snapper, and now his little sister, Sassy, wouldn’t have to go hungry tonight.
He glanced toward the dimming sky. The sun was about to set. He hated having to pass Jacob’s Point in the dark. The knowledge that Jacob’s ghost haunted the rocky outcrop sent shivers down his spine.
Perhaps he’d be better to cut through Harding’s Wood.
He nodded to himself. Yes, the woods, though dark, would be preferable to a ghost. What dangers could possibly lurk in the woods? Nothing that could hurt a boy of almost twelve.
As he made his way hurriedly along the woodland track, an owl hooting to his right comforted him. He was not alone.
His stomach rumbled and his mouth watered at the thought of the fish filling their bellies tonight.
So engrossed in images of the feast they would eat, he did not hear the deft footsteps approaching swiftly through the encroaching darkness.
Before he was aware he had company, a gloved hand covered his mouth and he was lifted off his feet, his fish falling unheeded to the forest floor.
No, unfortunately, he was not alone.
Chapter 6
 
“
I
am ill, Daniel. Please close the door on your way out and leave me alone.” Rheda lay in bed, propped up on a huge array of pillows, feigning ill health. There was no way she was going to Lord Hale’s dinner party this evening. She had another task to complete. Her mares, Desert Rose and White Lily, were in season.
Ignoring her, Daniel entered her bedchamber and strode toward the bed. “You cannot be ill. You have never been sick a day in your life.” Daniel swept a critical eye over her. “What’s wrong with you?” His eyes narrowed and his hands went to his hips. She hated it when men used such an arrogant, intimidating stance. “Are you trying to avoid Lord Hale? I cannot understand you, Rhe. Christopher stood by you through the scandal, and has offered for you since. You owe him some respect, and ignoring his invitation is rude.”
Rheda dramatically threw an arm over her eyes as if the light hurt them. “Lady Hale sent the invitation, not her son. Christopher’s a bumbling idiot. Lovable, but such a bore. All he is interested in is hunting and fishing. He cares nothing for the villagers of Deal.”
Daniel had the decency to blush. “But you’d be safe. We’d be safe. Provided for. Even with the scandal hanging over you, you know he’d still marry you.”
“That’s because he’s too dim-witted to believe it. Sorry, that was uncalled for. I didn’t mean it.” She sighed. “Anyway, I am not trying to avoid Lord Hale.” This at least was true. It was the guest of honor she wished to avoid, Lord Strathmore. The mere thought of his name sent shame searing through her body and set her pulse fluttering.
“Then why can’t you accompany me and lend your support? It’s been a long time since the earl offered you his hand in marriage. I am sure he has all but forgotten your refusal. The awkwardness has long since passed.”
She hadn’t told Daniel about her encounter with the sinfully handsome Lord Strathmore four days ago, nor did she intend to. Her assumption that Lord Strathmore would look for her had been correct. So far, by threatening the mere name, “Dark Shadow,” she’d managed to stop any tittle-tattle. The gypsy woman named Rhe remained a mystery to the viscount, and she wanted it to remain that way.
“I am truly sorry, Daniel. It’s my monthly courses. Please go without me.”
A pained look flashed across Daniel’s face.
He was a handsome boy with features similar to hers, although his hair was much darker, a rich chestnut brown. She frowned. Rather like Lord Strathmore’s. Goodness, why did he keep popping into her head?
She swept her eyes over her brother. At almost nineteen Daniel was still really a boy. His looks and title had the local girls in a swoon. However, his ability to find a suitable match would be greatly disadvantaged if she couldn’t inflate the family coffers. Neither one of them bore any blame for their impoverished state.
Daniel originally had no idea how Rheda kept the creditors at bay, and by the time he did it was too late. He allowed her to continue only because he needed the extra money to restore the estate to its former glory. She had to give him a large portion of her earnings. Daniel was determined to rejoin Society. Once he achieved his goal he’d close her down without blinking an eye. What she needed was her horse stud profitable by then.
She loved Daniel dearly. She’d been more like a mother to him because he’d never known his own.
Rheda had been left to raise him when their mother died in childbirth—his birth. Their father took no interest in either of his offspring, too intent on drinking, whoring, and gambling.
Their family had never been affluent, but at seventeen, after their father’s death, she was stunned to learn the extent of their debts. It appeared the late baron bestowed more money on his mistresses than on his children. They were certainly better provided for.
Since then Rheda had been determined to protect Daniel’s inheritance. She’d worked hard, and with the help of “Dark Shadow” had managed to pay off her father’s debts and maintain Tumsbury Cliff Manor in a reasonable state of repair.
Daniel bent and placed a kiss on her cheek. “Very well, I shall offer your apologies. I’ll miss having you by my side.”
She ruffled his hair. “You are such a liar. I know Lady Umbridge is also a guest at Hastingleigh. You know scandal surrounds the beautiful widow. She’s renowned for her sexual prowess. I expect that like most young bucks you’re itching to make her acquaintance.”
“Rheda, you of all people know not all scandal is true. Besides, you should not know of such things,” Daniel scolded, his face a mask of brotherly outrage.
“Humph. I am almost six years older than you, Daniel. Stop treating me like a child. I am a grown woman.”
“An unmarried woman of advanced age. I begin to despair for you, Rhe.”
She gritted her teeth and tried to hold on to her temper. Marriage was not for her. Her father had taught her that in this world of unreliable men, a wise woman dared depend only upon herself.
She wouldn’t allow this argument with Daniel tonight. She needed him to leave as soon as possible if she was to get the horses over to Hastingleigh, mate them with Caesar, and have them back home before dawn. This was not the time for an argument about her lack of matrimonial prospects.
She sighed. “Just go and have a good time.”
“She’s not interested in me anyway,” Daniel sulked. “It’s Lord Strathmore she’s after. Why else would she come all the way to Deal?”
Why indeed. With a pain in the vicinity of her chest, Rheda acknowledged it
was
the barrel Lord Strathmore had been interested in all along. He’d hardly need a dalliance with a lowly maid when he could sample Lady Umbridge’s delights. She thumped her pillow. Lady Umbridge could have him; all Rheda needed was his stallion.
Daniel halted at the door. “I’d best alert Cook to the fact we’ll have a visitor tomorrow. You know Lady Hale will call once she hears you are unwell. She still has hopes you’ll marry Christopher. She thinks you and her son are well matched. Considering your lack of dowry and your advanced years, it is a fine offer and one you should be grateful for.” Daniel shook his head. “I’ll never understand why you won’t.” Without waiting for her usual reply, he simply closed the door.
Rheda waited until Daniel left the house before throwing back the covers and racing for her wardrobe. She pulled out a pair of Daniel’s old trousers; they fitted perfectly around her waist, although they were still a little long in the leg. She bent and rolled the legs up. Next, she slid a shirt over her chemise. She left off her corset, horrible thing, and finally added Daniel’s old jacket. She tied her hair up in a knot at the back of her head and donned one of Daniel’s caps. Having a younger brother was, on occasion, very convenient.
Within fifteen breathless minutes she was at the stables. Jamieson, the one man she could not do without, was waiting for her with the two mares saddled. He had been her mother’s head gardener and now was Daniel’s butler, valet, and right-hand man. The estate would have fallen to pieces without Jamieson and his wife, Penny. They’d remained at Tumsbury Manor when things had become precarious and helped her set up “Dark Shadow” to keep them afloat. He was the one man she trusted.
“Is everything ready?”
Jamieson cocked his head conspiratorially. “It could not have gone any smoother. I gave two casks of our finest brandy stock to Ted, Lord Hale’s head groom. Ted told Lord Strathmore he’d have to corral Caesar in the back paddock because there was a mare in heat in the stables. Caesar will be far enough away from the house so no one should hear the noise. We won’t be disturbed.”
The night was clear and the gibbous moon shone brightly. They’d have plenty of light to enact their plan. Rheda refused to acknowledge the pangs of guilt knotting her stomach. What the arrogant viscount didn’t know, well ... It was his fault for being so casual with his prize stallion. She planned to “borrow” his stallion for the evening, and as many evenings as she could over the next week, to ensure her mares were impregnated. Caesar could well be the resurrection of her dreams, if not her family’s reputation, and support the women and children of Deal. With the stallion’s offspring, she could begin building her horse stud. The money she’d make off two foals of Caesar’s lineage would allow her to buy further stud fees and more mares.
Desperate times call for desperate measures. Her mares were in heat. She’d never been afraid to take a risk. Lord Strathmore’s visit, while annoying, couldn’t have come at a more opportune time.
They rode the mares the two miles to Hastingleigh Hall. They stopped outside the paddock to unsaddle the mares and to tie up their tails. Mating horses was a tricky business. If her two mares weren’t impressed with Caesar, there could be a lot of kicking and biting. She wondered if her ladies would accept the impressive stallion. If not, they’d try again tomorrow night. She didn’t want any of the horses hurt. Depending on Caesar’s temperament, this could turn very nasty, very quickly.
Already Caesar had their scent. The mares were giving tiny whinnies of welcome as the huge stallion pranced along the fence line, rearing on his hind legs and tossing his head, nostrils flared, eyes glazed and slightly wild. The sight of the magnificent beast held Rheda immobile for a heartbeat, until she realized they’d best get the mares in the corral before Caesar broke the fence down.
 
For a woman starting her fourth decade of life, Lady Umbridge was still beautiful enough to have any man wanting to rise to the occasion. For a healthy, red-blooded male in need of a woman, she was indeed tempting. Lady Umbridge, seated on Rufus’s left, would tempt a saint into sinning.
“I have such a sense of déjà vu,” she cooed. “The last time I sat at this dinner table, I was a very young eighteen-year-old newlywed. I was sitting next to the handsome Lord Strathmore then as well.”
Not Rufus. It had been his late father.
Her low throaty voice continued, “I have not had the pleasure of spending enough time with you. Having known your father I am sure we could become firm friends. If given the right incentive.”
She let him know what incentive she meant. Her leg pressed his beneath the table.
Rufus tried to ignore the fact that since her arrival yesterday, Lady Umbridge had been intimating that she’d come to Kent for more than taking the country air. She was on the hunt and she wasn’t after a fox. She’d set her sights on sharing his bed.
There were three reasons the sultry widow did not stir his ardor, despite her creamy skin and perfect complexion.
First, she was far too obvious, and like any hot-blooded male, Rufus excelled in the thrill of the chase. Second, she had committed the ultimate sin and mentioned his father. His father’s last deed before he died had led to the family’s ruin, and Rufus did not need reminding of it. And last, she was the current paramour of Stephen, Lord Worthington, his good friend and co-spymaster.
One did not encroach on another man’s property unless he’d either finished with said property or one was mad with desire. Currently, the only woman driving Rufus mad was a fair-haired gypsy called Rhe. A woman, who, it appeared, was a ghost.
Lady Umbridge leveled hard blue eyes on him. “Of course your father shot himself the very next day. I do hope history doesn’t repeat itself. It would be rather a waste.” And her hand found his thigh.
He reached under the table and removed her hand. “Do not fret. I’ll not be shooting myself tomorrow.” His steely gaze sent a clear message of his disinterest.
Ignoring her flushed face, he turned his attention to the young man directly across the table from him. Baron de Winter had been staring at Lady Umbridge as if he wanted her to become the next course.
That did not bother him. In fact, if Stephen could pawn Lady Umbridge off on this green-behind-the-ears pup all the better.
His eyes narrowed and he took another sip of his red wine. He knew this lad. He looked very familiar. Where had they met before? He could not for the life of him place the baron. He almost never forgot a face or a name. In his line of work, it paid not to. Never mind. He’d corner him after dinner when the gentleman retired.
He speculated on the empty place at the table beside Lord Hale. Turning to their hostess seated on his right, Lady Helen Hale, Christopher’s mother, he asked, “We appear to be missing someone. I hope they’re not indisposed.”
“How astute of you to notice. Yes, Miss Kerrich, the baron’s sister. She is unwell, I have been told, although I am assured it’s nothing serious.” She focused her gaze on the baron and called, “Daniel, you do promise me your sister is not seriously ill. I am quite sure Christopher would send for the doctor if needed.”
The baron’s face colored. “There is absolutely no need Lady Hale. Rheda is simply indisposed.”
“Well, I shall visit her tomorrow and ensure for myself that all is well.”
Rheda?
Rufus almost choked on his mouthful. Was Rhe short for Rheda? He shook his head and took another sip of his wine, trying to halt his coughing. No, it could not be. But the proof was sitting across the table from him. Why had he not noticed it from the start? The baron’s hair was darker than Rhe—Rheda’s, but the features of his face and the deep green of his eyes gave her identity away.

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