How to Handle a Scandal (6 page)

She seemed sincere, and he would be a bastard to hold a grudge. “Very well, I accept. And perhaps my public proposal was too dramatic a gesture.” What a mooncalf he’d been. Thank God he wasn’t like
that
anymore.

He considered the idea that like him, Lizzie had changed from the person she’d been back then. She looked different, of course. Her face was more interesting, her demeanor more assured and relaxed, her figure a touch more lush in all the right places even if her clothes were far less dramatic. He’d have been lying if he didn’t admit he found her extremely attractive. She was twenty-four and a widow, he reminded himself. Of course she wasn’t the same person she’d been.

But then he watched as her eyes drifted beyond his, and he glanced behind him and saw Lord Benchcombe talking to a woman. It was the woman he’d seen pass by the bookshelves earlier and who must have been in the aisle with Lizzie when he was talking with Mrs. Dombrell.

Eliza smiled. “Your public proposal was a sweet idea,” she said, but all her attention seemed to be on the man and woman and not on discussing the event she’d supposedly felt such a need to apologize for.

“You seem very interested in that woman,” Tommy said.

Lizzie seemed to start. “What?”

“The woman behind me you keep looking at. The one who was in the aisle with you a few minutes ago. The one you said you don’t know.”

She flushed. “Er…no. I don’t… Er, well, that is, it’s Lord Benchcombe. I…have a tendre for him.”

Tommy absorbed this bizarre admission. Benchcombe was a handsome fellow. Young and tall, with the kind of hair women liked to call golden. But a tendre? Wasn’t that the province of silly young ladies of sixteen?

“You admire Lord Benchcombe?”

“Exceedingly!”

He glanced at Benchcombe, who was now looking at them, perhaps having noticed Eliza’s gaze. Tommy had always thought the man dull-witted, if nice enough, and the ladies did seem to find him handsome. “And does he know?”

“Oh, no.”

“Have you admired him for a long time?”

“Er, no. That is…”

“Just last week you were smitten with someone else?” he supplied.

“Yes!” she said, looking oddly relieved. “Have to keep things moving. You know how it is.”

He didn’t, actually. It was one thing to keep company with different partners, but flitting around like a giddy sixteen-year-old, consorting with every available person of the opposite sex? No. Good God, Lizzie was a widow now—hadn’t she grown up at all?

He found himself more than a little disappointed in her, and then surprised that he was disappointed, because after all, this was Lizzie, who’d gotten herself thrown out of school for kissing gentlemen and made such a scandalous name for herself during her season by jumping into fountains and sneaking into gentlemen’s clubs. In short, she’d had a wonderful time doing just as she liked without a care for the consequences. He’d once though he might be an answer to the wildness in her, but he’d discovered he was not.

He didn’t care much about propriety, but he’d seen enough of trouble and death and sacrifice to know that life wasn’t all parties and giddy notes slipped under guest-room doors.

Or maybe for Lizzie it was.

At least now he understood that regretful though she might be about how she’d behaved years ago, she hadn’t really changed. It was sad, really, though he doubted it felt that way to her. She was so lovely and lively that she’d always have men dancing to her tune. No doubt Benchcombe would shortly be one of them, if he wasn’t already.

Tommy wondered briefly if she was as scandalous as she used to be, but that only made him want to think about what kind of interesting trouble she might be getting into, which he didn’t need to be pondering.

He tipped his head politely at her, feeling a little sorry for her that she’d never really grown up. “Then I’ll leave you to charm him,” he said, hiding a smile.

She blinked, then smiled tentatively back at him. “I’m glad we had a moment to speak candidly.”

“I as well.” At least now when they inevitably met again, it wouldn’t be awkward.

They both began walking toward the door.

“Leaving before any of the adoring ladies of London discover you’re here?” she teased. “I heard that this year’s debutantes have deemed you the Most Swashbuckling man in London. Perhaps in the world.”

He might tell himself that he was unaffected by her, but a spark of that old mischief had come into her eyes, and it took him back to a time when she could make him smile like no one else. And dream; she’d filled his dreams, both wicked and sweet, and those dreams had tormented him for ages, even after he’d decided she didn’t deserve his affection.

The memory of the torments she’d been able to inflict on him made him crave to pay her back, even if only in a small way, and as they were passing Benchcombe, who was now alone, Tommy tapped the man on the shoulder. Benchcombe turned and dipped his head to Tommy and, with a smile of real pleasure, to Eliza.

Tommy leaned closer. “If you ask Lady Truehart to dance at the next ball, Benchcombe,” he said, “I have it on good authority she’ll say yes.”

Tommy heard a quickly indrawn breath from Lizzie, but he merely inclined his head at her in farewell and left the shop with a grin.

* * *

What on earth had possessed her to tease Tommy, Eliza thought as he left her standing with Lord Benchcombe, when she’d long since trained herself to abandon the urge to flirt? Being in his presence seemed to have scrambled the wits she normally kept so well trained.

Lord Benchcombe promptly began to quiz her about when she would next attend a ball, looking quite pleased at the idea that she’d been dreaming of dancing with him.

When Eliza had noticed that Nancy was still in the shop and talking to him, she’d been so agitated that she’d given Tommy the first excuse she could think of for staring at them. Now Tommy thought she was a ninny, but that was the least of her problems.

“I’m afraid I recently turned my ankle, my lord,” she told Benchcombe regretfully. “And though I’m able to walk, my doctor insists, disappointingly, that I do nothing as vigorous as dancing for several weeks.”

“You hide it well, dear lady—I noticed no limp when you walked.”

“Vanity,” she said regretfully. He was a nice man, and he didn’t deserve to be made to feel as though she was toying with him.

He nodded. “It is my fondest wish that you will be improved soon. Perhaps I might send my own physician to you?”

She assured him there was no need and thanked him, then sedately left the shop with a cheerful wave as he looked on.

Once out of sight, she had to nearly run to the coffee shop so she wouldn’t be terribly late meeting Meg. When she arrived, Meg was already installed at a small table by a window.

“Sorry I’m late,” Eliza said breathlessly, taking the seat opposite her. “I lost track of time at the bookseller’s.”

Meg leaned across the table and said with a sly look, “So what’s all this about you having a tendre for Lord Benchcombe? And Sir Tommy Halifax playing cupid?”

“What?”

Meg laughed at her expression. “I passed Mrs. Tate in the street. She was in Little’s when Sir Tommy told Benchcombe that you were hoping to dance with him.”

“You don’t have to call him Sir Tommy,” Eliza grumbled. “He’s only Will’s brother.”

“What else am I supposed to call him, since thanks to you avoiding him, I’ve yet to see him?”

“He’s just a man.”

A serving girl arrived to take their order for coffee and cakes and left to fetch their things.

“Mrs. Tate was nearly clicking her heels at the idea that Lady Eliza Truehart, with her beauty and wealth, might be back on the marriage mart. She’s on her way now to spread the word around Town.”

Eliza groaned. “I’m
not
getting ready to marry again, and I can’t believe Tommy did that—it was incredibly embarrassing. Besides, Lord Benchcombe is a nice man who doesn’t deserve to be used as part of a joke.”

Meg laughed. “Don’t worry about him. He’s probably just excited that you talked to him, since you generally treat men as if they make little impression on you.”

“So do you.”

“No I don’t. I simply like worthwhile men, and they’re hard to come by. I’m an educated, sensible woman, and I don’t want a husband who only knows how to dance. Give me a man who’s
done
something with his life—designed a building, or sailed the oceans.”

“Then maybe you would like Tommy.”

“Ha! I’m sure he’s an interesting fellow, but there’s too much history between the two of you to make that idea comfortable. Besides, I thought he was only in England for a holiday before he returns to India.”

“He is.”

Meg nodded thoughtfully, then waited as the serving girl brought their coffee. Once she was gone, Meg took a sip of her drink and said, “So, what were you doing talking to Tommy? Aren’t you just about his least favorite person because of what happened years ago?”

“We’ve met by accident twice now, and this time I took the opportunity to apologize.”

Meg’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve talked to him twice and you didn’t tell me?”

Eliza shrugged as casually as she could, considering that she was still thinking about how he’d made her knees weak. It was ridiculous that she was having trouble getting herself to focus on Meg.

“I ran into him briefly in the park, and just now at the bookshop. I realized it was silly for there to be awkwardness between us.”

“Do you think he’s truly forgiven you?”

Eliza stirred her coffee. There had been something in his manner, as though he still didn’t trust her. “He accepted my apology, but I doubt that it’s made me rise much in his estimation. So maybe now I’m only
one
of his least favorite people.”

“Hmm.”

“Why ‘hmm’?” Eliza said.

“Just that you two were once very close. So maybe now that he’s returned, whatever was between you will be rekindled.”

Eliza repressed an unwanted tingle at the thought. She shouldn’t care what Tommy thought of her, but she’d long since forced herself to cultivate truthfulness, and she knew that for some reason, she did care. Not that it mattered. “We’re both entirely different people now. And that prank with Benchcombe is hardly the sort of thing a man would do to a woman he liked.”

“Perhaps, though it just sounds mischievous to me.” Meg grinned. “I was at the lecture on temperance this morning, and Sir Tommy Halifax was all any of the ladies could talk about. He’s very swashbuckling now, apparently, whatever that means, though of course he always was a charmer.”

“At the
temperance
lecture? Couldn’t they find something more suitable to talk about?”

“Why shouldn’t he have been a suitable subject? He’s not addictive, after all.” Meg paused, and her eyes twinkled. “Or is he?”

Eliza rolled her eyes. “I have better things to do with my time than flirt with swashbuckling fellows. He’s part of my family, for goodness’ sake.”

“Not your blood family. He’s not
related
to you. And apparently he’s the most interesting man in England. Maybe you’re secretly hoping he’ll propose again.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Anyway, you of all people know that I won’t get married again. I’m the happiest widow in London.”

“Maybe,” Meg said. “Or maybe you just haven’t found the right man.”

This was a conversation Eliza definitely didn’t want to prolong. She gestured to the bag by Meg’s feet, from which was protruding the spine of a book. “Have you been to the lending library?”

Despite her practical demeanor and deep suspicion of men who were charming, the books Meg loved most to read were gothic novels full of romance and drama. Eliza, who’d once loved just that sort of book, never read them anymore and thought Meg would be happier if she stopped as well, but Meg insisted she only read them to mock them.

Eliza tilted her head and read the spine. “
The Dangerous Baron of Darkness
. Why’s he dangerous? Does he refuse to provide candles, leaving his guests to trip over furniture in the dark?”

“Ha. He’s dangerous for ladies to know, as usual.”

“So you’re enjoying disliking him, as usual?”

“Exactly.”

It wasn’t hard to understand why Meg held such gloomy views on the opposite sex. Her mother had had terrible taste in men, and the last thing Meg wanted was to ever be like her. After Meg’s kind but feckless father died when Meg was young, her mother had managed to marry not one but two men who were already married to other women.

“Two bigamists!” Meg had told Eliza. “Two! Who else but my mother could succumb to charming seducers
twice
?” She’d shaken her head, the vexation clearly still fresh though her mother had been dead for years. “My mother couldn’t be happy without a man in her life—it was as though she was nothing without one.”

Which meant that as far as men were concerned, Meg was impossibly picky. And, though Eliza wouldn’t want to point it out, getting older.

Though Eliza had no intention of ever marrying again herself, she knew what she was giving up. Meg didn’t. Marriage could be very pleasant, Eliza had learned, and an important opportunity for people to grow and change. She’d more than once told Meg she ought to try it. At which point, Meg would always remind her that most of the time, marriage wasn’t something people could just “try,” since barring mishap, it lasted for life.

But still, strong marriages were the foundation of a healthy society, and Eliza hoped that the girls who came through Truehart Manor would one day find spouses who would be good helpmates.

Eliza did wish Meg would make a little effort with her appearance, though, because underneath her mismatched clothes and careless coiffures, she was quite lovely. Eliza’s eyes wandered over the pale green spencer Meg was wearing, an unattractive choice with her dark brown gown. It was as though she chose her clothes as a sort of hedge of thorns that any potential mate would have to slash through to see the woman underneath.

“Dearest,” Eliza said, “wouldn’t you like to go shopping with me? I’d be happy to advise you…”