Scandals of an Innocent (5 page)

Miles laughed. “You know that I would,” he said. “In fact, you seem to understand my character very well. That could be an excellent basis for marriage.”

Alice made a sound like an enraged kitten and flounced away. “If you kidnapped me I would still refuse you,” she said. “You would need to pay a crooked clergyman to ignore my protestations.”

“Another excellent idea,” Miles said. “I will if I must.” He sighed. “But to be quite honest with you, Miss Lister, it is a vast amount of trouble to go to when blackmail is available as an option instead.” He moved a little closer to her. “Think about it,” he said. “Transportation…imprisonment…These are harsh options, Miss Lister. They really would not suit you. You have already scrambled out of poverty once. I am sure that you do not wish to return. And being married to me has its benefits. Your situation in life would improve immeasurably. You would have the title of marchioness—and four strawberry leaves in the coronet, for a start.”

“If you are looking for a woman who wishes for nothing more than to marry a marquis then you should wed my mama rather than me,” Alice snapped. “You are lower than a louse to seek to force me like this.” She gritted her teeth. “You are a worm and a weasel—”

Miles laughed again. “Is a weasel lower than a louse?” He spread his hands wide in a gesture of appeal. “Shall we take your poor opinion of me as read, Miss Lister, and get down to business? Think of your mother. She will be delighted if you accept my proposal. Remember that she wishes you to marry into
the aristocracy—not be clapped in Fortune’s Folly jail or dispatched to Australia.”

Alice could feel a headache building behind her eyes. She rubbed her forehead. Think of your mother, Miles had said. She thought of her family and the fragile security that they had achieved since her inheritance. Could she risk losing all that? Her brother, Lowell, had the modern machinery he needed to make the farm profitable now. He was working hard to secure his future but it was not easy for him. Her mother felt safe if not happy as a wealthy matron in country society, but her confidence was so brittle. Any scandal involving Alice would devastate her. Then there was Lydia, pregnant, abandoned and alone, who would lose the roof over her head if anything happened to Alice. She could turn to her cousin, Laura Anstruther, but Laura and Dexter were poor as church mice themselves.

Miles was threatening to take everything away that Alice had worked to build. He was an officer of the Crown, working for Richard Ryder, the Home Secretary, and as such, one word from him could ruin her forever. It would break her mother’s heart, and leave Lydia defenceless. As for a court actually convicting her…her mind reeled in horror at the prospect. For she was guilty as charged. She was totally in his power.

She pressed her fingers to her temples. If only she could negotiate with Miles, make some sort of compromise. That might suffice.

“I will make a bargain with you, my lord,” she said. “I understand that you are deeply in debt and that you must want my fortune, and so, if you do not speak of what happened last night, I will consent to the pretence
of a betrothal between us to help you stave off your creditors for a little while—” She stopped, shocked. For a moment there was such a bleak and desolate look in Miles’s eyes that it took her breath away. She had never, ever thought to see an expression like that on his face. And then it was gone, as swiftly as it had come, and she wondered if she had imagined it.

“It is far too late for half measures, Miss Lister,” he said. “The sale of the Drum estate and all the castle contents starts in a couple of weeks.” He smiled faintly. “I am in far deeper debt than you can ever imagine. I have already sold everything I can, and if I do not wed an heiress, and soon, I will be thrown in the Fleet—or be forced to flee the country.” He shifted a little. “That is why I am prepared to do
anything
to oblige you to marry me, Miss Lister. There will be no compromises. You wed me or you go to jail.”

M
ILES WATCHED
as Alice wrestled with his not in the least romantic proposal. Every expression was written clearly on her face. He could read that she wanted to tell him to go to hell. It was in every defiant line of her body and in the jut of her chin as she stood, hands on hips, staring him down. Miles was accustomed to calculating each cynical risk he took in his life and this was one he knew was a racing certainty. No matter how much she hated him, Alice had too much to lose to refuse him. She would succumb to his blackmail, wed him, and he would have the fortune he craved.

He would have Alice in his bed, as well, and that was beginning to matter as much as the money. Well, not quite. But their sparring had only sharpened his hunger for her. For a moment Miles allowed himself to imagine Alice naked in his arms, the curves and hollows of her skin exposed to his questing hands, the scent of her wrapped about him as it had been the night before.

The arousal ripped through him, startling him in its intensity.

Miles clamped down on his excessive lust. This was not going to help him think straight and he was too calculating to be led astray by his desire. He looked at
Alice again and almost forgot the resolution he had just made. She looked slightly flustered, completely defiant and totally irresistible. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted it very much.

Something flickered in Alice’s blue eyes—fury and despair in equal mixture. She was trapped and she knew it but she was not going to break down. Miles felt a sudden admiration for her. Most women would have given in to the vapors by now, or have withdrawn into a strategic swoon. Alice, it seemed, had nerves of steel and a fundamental strength of character he had seldom encountered in a female before, the only other exception being his cousin Laura Anstruther. Miles was not conventional enough to believe that women were the weaker sex—he had seen enough of their strength and courage under duress to know that they had a hardiness that many of his peers would deplore as unfeminine and unbecoming. But Alice had something in addition. She had enormous resolution.

He watched her narrowly as she paced the room. He was accustomed to weighing up his adversaries, assessing their strengths and weaknesses. Before he had gone to work for the Home Secretary he had been in the army and his work had taken him into dark places where he bartered for the lives of prisoners or hostages held by the other side, where he made bargains with men’s lives and futures as though they were no more than pieces on a chessboard, where he had always to consider the greater good and be prepared to sacrifice the individual. Over the years he had abandoned people whose only hope was that he could secure their safety. Always he reminded himself that a few had to suffer for the benefit of the majority. And gradually the
choices had become less painful, more calculated, and with each decision another piece of his soul had been lost. He knew this was why he could look at Alice now and feel nothing but a tightening hunger for her and for her money, and a triumph that the game was almost won. He doubted that there was a man alive who was more unfeeling or cynical than he was now, so he felt no compunction about forcing Alice into marriage. She had something that he wanted. He had the means to compel her to his point of view. It was as simple as that.

“Even if I agreed—” Alice began and Miles’s heart leaped to know that what he desired was so close to being within his grasp “—and I have not said that I will—there is a difficulty.”

“I am sure,” Miles said, “that it is nothing we cannot overcome.”

Alice’s eyes flashed with disdain. “I think it most unlikely you will be able to overcome this particular problem, my lord.” She turned on her heel sharply and walked away from him, the lemon silk skirts of her gown making a soft swishing sound.

“Try me,” Miles said. Now that he was within an ace of winning Alice’s consent he was absolutely determined that nothing would stand in his way. He was aware of tension rippling through all the muscles in his body, and the hairs of the back of his neck standing on end. He only just managed to suppress a shiver.

Alice gestured him to a seat and sat down opposite him. All her movements were very precise, as though she had herself under tight control. She was remarkably self-contained but he could see how much it was costing her in the tense way that she held herself
together. Her strain showed in the tight grip of her hands in her lap and in the taut line of her shoulders as she sat up very straight.

“The inheritance of my fortune is not without conditions,” Alice said, breaking the silence between them. She looked at him, her blue eyes fierce, as though she were daring him to challenge her. “My lawyer, Mr. Gaines, will confirm what I am about to tell you, my lord, lest you think this no more than an excuse on my part.” She swallowed hard and took a deliberate breath, meeting his gaze directly.

“The fact is that when she left me her fortune, Lady Membury also laid down a stipulation relating to the man I would marry,” Alice said. “It has to be fulfilled or all my remaining fortune reverts to the charity for the welfare and upkeep of the stray animals of the parish. Lady Membury,” she added sweetly, “was very fond of animals.”

“I can imagine,” Miles said. He had heard a little of the elderly widow who had left her housemaid a vast fortune. It was said she had been completely mad.

Alice’s blue gaze flickered over Miles again. “When she made this stipulation, Lady Membury was seeking to protect me from fortune hunters and to ensure that I chose to marry a man who loved and respected me for myself alone,” she said. Her tone was ironic.

“That was very laudable of her,” Miles said, “but probably a little optimistic.”

“So it seems,” Alice said coldly, “given the nature of your marriage proposal. Lady Membury’s wishes are quite clear, however. She stated that as she would not be present to scrutinize my suitors herself, she requires that the man I marry fulfill certain criteria.
Specifically he has to be proven to be an upright and worthy gentleman.” She let the words drop into the silence of the room. “Perhaps if she had required that I should marry an out-and-out scoundrel, you would have a better chance, my lord.”

Miles laughed. “You do not feel that I meet her conditions, Miss Lister?”

“In no particular,” Alice said. “More to the point, my lord, Mr. Gaines, and my other trustee, Mr. Churchward, who was Lady Membury’s London lawyer, both surely know of your poor character and know that whatever else you may be, you are neither upright nor worthy. So I fear that your suit is doomed, my lord, blackmail notwithstanding.”

It was a setback, Miles allowed, but he could not accept that it was insuperable. He had not come this far in order to give up now.

“Churchward is my family lawyer, too,” he said thoughtfully. “Perhaps he could be…persuaded…to my cause.”

“I have met Mr. Churchward and I doubt that he is corruptible,” Alice said sharply, “family lawyer or not.”

“I am afraid you are probably right,” Miles conceded wryly. “Which is how it should be, I suppose. I do not really want a dishonest solicitor working for me.”

“Only when it suits you,” Alice said. “There is more, my lord.”

“Of course there is,” Miles said ironically.

“In order to
prove
his worthiness to Lady Membury’s satisfaction—and to that of my trustees,” Alice said, “my future husband has to fulfill a certain requirement.”

Miles sighed. He was starting to dislike the deceased
Lady Membury quite intensely. He had no doubt that Alice was telling him the truth about the codicil to her inheritance—and that she was taking great pleasure in doing so. He supposed that it was the least he deserved for forcing her hand.

He sat forward. “Name Lady Membury’s stipulations,” he said.

“Her terms are that for three months you must be proven to be utterly and completely honest in your dealings, not only with me, your future wife, but with everyone else, too,” Alice said very clearly. “You must speak the truth on all occasions. You must be honest in all your transactions.” Her gaze held a hint of mockery as it rested on him. “You are a ruthless, deceitful manipulator, my lord. Never in a thousand years could you achieve such a thing as total honesty, though I do believe it would be the most painful punishment for you to try. I feel sure you would fall at the first hurdle.”

Miles stared at her. For a moment he thought—hoped—he had misheard her.

Utter and total honesty in his words and his dealings?

What had that mad old fool Lady Membury been thinking?

Utter and total honesty
for three whole months?

He was not sure what was showing on his face. Alice was watching him with interest and a certain degree of amusement.

“I knew you could not do it,” she said with satisfaction.

“Miss Lister,” Miles said, “there are very good social reasons for not being honest all the time.”

Alice smiled slightly. “You need not tell me that,” she said. “I was not the one who set the condition. And
I would not be expecting you to be honest if I ask you whether I look plump in a particular gown,” she added. “We are talking here about fundamental honesty of character, Lord Vickery. We are talking about you being at heart a sincere and worthy man.” Her smile grew. “Oh dear, you look appalled. I do realize that the concept of honor is completely foreign to you.” She raised a brow. “I take it, then, that you are withdrawing your attempt at blackmail and that we need not trouble Mr. Churchward and Mr. Gaines? I know you would not be able to meet the terms, anyway.”

“Oh, I can meet the terms,” Miles said. He got to his feet and turned away from Alice for a moment so that she could not see his expression and know he lied. It was impossible to open his heart and reveal the unvarnished truth about his thoughts, feelings and behavior. He had not done such a thing since he was a youth, in the last, appalling, disillusioning interview he’d had with his father before he’d left to join the army. Telling the absolute truth was to reveal one’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities. It was to lay oneself open to pain and hurt. Being honest never paid. It was not a course of action that he would ever take voluntarily.

And yet that did not mean he could not meet Lady Membury’s ridiculous conditions and win Alice’s fortune. Over the past ten years Miles had become so accomplished at disguising the truth, bending it, using it, molding it to his will that he was completely sure he could do the same now. Alice and her trustees would never know the difference between his carefully constructed pretence and total honesty.

He turned back to her. She was waiting with nothing but the most polite interest showing on her face. Miles
took her hand in his and rubbed his thumb gently over the back of it. Her skin felt warm and deliciously soft. He felt a tiny tremble rack her. Her lips parted and he heard her catch her breath. The hunger for her that was within him sharpened like a knife. He had to have Alice Lister. One way or another he would achieve it.

“I will do it,” he said.

“Money is a truly remarkable inspiration,” Alice said, “if it can persuade even you to reform.” Her voice was slightly husky. Miles felt his body stir. Once again he had a sudden, shocking urge to kiss her, to take that soft red mouth with his and dip deep within her. He pulled her to her feet, drawing her closer to him until her hands were resting against the smooth blue superfine of his jacket.

“It is only for three months,” he whispered against the golden curls that had escaped from her neat little yellow bandeau and were tickling his lips. “I do not intend to reform for good. Only until I have you—and your money.”

He watched the color spill up under her skin, pink as an opening rose. “Of course,” Alice said. “How foolish of me. You cannot change.”

“Why would you seek to change me?” Miles asked. “I am far more amusing unreformed.”

He saw a flash of something in her eyes that looked almost like pain. “You are dangerous and ruthless and arrogant unreformed,” Alice said. Her voice was husky.

“Precisely,” Miles agreed. He leaned closer until his lips were barely an inch from hers, tantalizingly close. “Much more amusing.”

Alice shook her head a little. He saw the deep blue of her eyes darken to the color of twilight. He could
sense the resistance in her, but it was overwhelmed by the attraction she had to him. He doubted that she even understood what was happening between them. She was so transparently innocent that it felt unfair to be taking advantage. Except that Miles never let such scruples weigh with him.

“Do we have a deal, Miss Lister?” he murmured. His lips brushed hers. “I will contact Churchward and Gaines to confirm that I will fulfill Lady Membury’s requirements as your affianced husband. By good fortune I am expecting Mr. Churchward to arrive from London any day to discuss my inheritance of Drum….”

He saw Alice blink and pull herself back from the brink of sensual awareness. A shade of disquiet touched her face. She took a step back from him as though she had belatedly become aware of how far she had let him take control and how far he had affected her senses.

“You go too fast, my lord,” she said. “I have not given my consent yet.”

“But you will,” Miles said. “Think of your mother. Think of Miss Cole. You have no choice.”

A flicker of temper flashed in Alice’s eyes. “I understand that there is a family curse associated with your inheritance of Drum, my lord,” she said. “Can I rely upon it to carry you off before the knot is tied?”