Never Trust a Scoundrel (23 page)

With a sigh, she murmured, “I should return home.”

“Then stop tempting me, woman, and let me dress.”

She laughed as she slid off him, trying to hold all her skirts up. After they finished helping each other dress, Daniel rapped on the roof to get the coachman's attention. When the carriage stopped, he stepped out for a moment, then came back inside.

“I told him to take us into the alley behind your town house,” Daniel said, “just in case your brother is home.”

“A few weeks ago he would probably still have
been out, but now you never know.” She felt troubled just thinking about Edward.

“He's changed, Grace,” Daniel said quietly.

“I think so, but I've hurt him, Daniel.”

“
We've
hurt him.”

She gave him a searching glance, trying to read his expression, to understand what he meant. Did he merely feel guilty for his sake—or for hers, too?

They held hands until the carriage came to a stop, and she heard Daniel sigh when he reached for the door handle.

She put a hand on his back, wanting to say that she wished this night would never end. But would he think she meant only as his mistress? So she said nothing.

When he helped her down, and the coachman discreetly stepped away, she softly said, “Daniel, have you ever attempted to play my father's violin?”

He betrayed his surprise. Or maybe he was no longer trying to hide his emotions from her.

“No.”

“I know we've decided to keep the winning of it still between us, but…perhaps because it wasn't really yours yet, you didn't try to play it. I think you should.”

He gave her a wry smile and kissed her nose. “Let me see you into the house, Grace.”

She put her arm through his. At the kitchen door, he waited outside until she'd lit a candle from the lamp. Smiling tenderly at him, she closed the door
and locked it, watching through the windowpane as he faded into the black courtyard.

Only after she was in her room and wearing a dressing robe, Ruby already back to her own room, did Grace hear a knock.

Hoping it would be Daniel, she flung open the door.

Edward stood there, and he gave a sad smile when he saw her expression. “You even wish it was him.”

She waved a hand at him, smiling. “Edward, you make too much of things.”

He entered her room, and she noticed he was still dressed for the evening.

“What were you doing tonight?” she asked.

He stiffened. “I had a dinner party to go to.”

“Who gave it?” she asked in curiosity.

“A Mr. Hutton. You don't know him.”

“How do you know him?” She couldn't help her curiosity, for his manner seemed…different.

“He's a director of the Southern Railway.”

“Ah, you know him through Daniel,” she said happily. “And does he have any eligible daughters?”

Edward sank down into a chair before her bare hearth, and she recognized his evasions.

“Aha, so he does,” she continued. “Do you…like one of them?”

He sighed and said gravely, “I do.”

“Then you can thank Daniel.”

“I know.”

His agreement seemed most reluctant.

Edward cocked his head as he studied her. “Did you enjoy the Gardens?”

Now it was her turn to be evasive without appearing so. “I did. It was truly a fairyland.”

“I know what's happening, Grace.”

She stiffened, but didn't reply.

“You think you can reform him, like you've always tried to do to me.”

“It worked for you, didn't it?” she challenged.

“I wanted it to, but does he? No gentleman tries to seduce young maidens. I would never dream of doing so with Miss Hutton.”

“You're a good man, Edward,” she said kindly. But maybe she needed a man not so good.

Yet did she deserve Daniel? A man was threatening her, and whatever his scheme, it could cost Daniel—and his family—respect. How would she feel then, when she could have solved the Cabot problem by cutting Daniel out of her life completely?

Should she have? Instead she'd surrendered to him, agreed to prolong their challenge because she could not imagine life without him. What was she hoping to accomplish? An offer of marriage? When she was withholding a truth from him? Was she trying to find a fairy-tale ending where there was none? Perhaps her dreams were just as false as the Gardens themselves.

Sex with Daniel had been the ultimate gamble.

W
hen Daniel awoke the next morning, he discovered that the previous night his house had been invaded—by his mother and her staff.

He stared at her in surprise as she waited for him in the breakfast parlor. With a smile, he came forward and kissed her cheek. “Mother, it has been almost twenty years since you were last in London. Did you come just to share toast with me?”

“Sit down, Daniel, before the food gets cold. You did sleep rather late,” she added, eyeing him suspiciously.

“Yes, my lady,” he said, pulling his chair to the table and nodding to the footman, who set a hot plate of eggs and ham before him.

“You were out very late,” she said, buttering a piece of toast.

“As an adult, I am allowed to.” He smiled.

“Were you with Miss Banbury?”

“I was.” He eyed her with speculation. “You still disapprove?”

“I trust you to make a wise decision.”

But she still disapproved—or a better word might be “worried,” enough so that she had braved the risks of London after so many years.

“Her father has an antique violin, well over a hundred years old,” Daniel began slowly. “It reminds me of the one Father used to have.”

“Is it similar to the one that's on your library wall?”

He'd forgotten. “She let me borrow it.”

“I see,” she said shrewdly.

“Why don't you play anymore?” he suddenly asked.

“The violin?” Her gaze moved away evasively.

“The piano, your favorite instrument.”

Then she pinned him with eyes very like his own. “Why don't you play? I always felt very guilty that you gave it up because of your father's tragedy.”

“It was an accident, Mother. Most people know that.”

It was the first time he'd alluded to the rumors surrounding her since childhood.

“It was,” she said simply.

“Yet it must have hurt when people believed otherwise.”

“It did, but that is the past, and now it's of no consequence. All I'd ever wanted was for you to be untouched by that scandal.”

“And I was.”

“But you created your own scandals. It must run in the family.”

He smiled. “It's probably unnecessary now.”

“But you started such a life to protect me.”

Staring at her, he said softly, “I think so, although I'd forgotten that until someone made me realize it.”

“Miss Banbury?”

He nodded.

“Perhaps there's another reason you keep your distance through scandal. Perhaps you're keeping marriageable young ladies away from you. Is that my fault, too? Did you think my heart was broken because of the way my marriage turned out?”

Before he could reassure her, she hurried on.

“Daniel, I would do everything again, regardless of the outcome, just to spend the few years I had with your father. Intimacy and love are worth the risk of any scandal.”

She put her hand on his arm, and he covered her hand with his. “I'm glad you've come to visit,” he said. “Now perhaps we can discuss why you should begin to compose again.”

She blew out a breath of laughter. “We can't change everything about ourselves with just one conversation!”

But as they began to eat and talk normally, he couldn't help but wonder if she had come to protect him from being hurt by a reckless marriage. Though living in London, he'd spent his life outside its Society, just like his mother. Perhaps it was time they both came back inside.

 

It was a new day, and Grace told herself to be hopeful, that somehow she could make every
thing work out. But a black cloud hovered over her, and by the afternoon, she knew it was not just a rain cloud, but a thunderstorm. While she was working on needlework to calm her racing mind, Woodley announced Horace Jenkins.

She rose slowly to her feet, feeling the blood drain from her face even as her embroidery hoop slipped to the floor.

Mr. Jenkins stood just inside the door until the butler backed out. And then Mr. Jenkins deliberately closed the door.

“Please open that,” she said, trying to be firm. “You know I cannot be alone with you.”

“You're alone with Throckmorten.”

“And if you know that, then you know that he's having you watched. He'll receive a report that you visited me here, and how will you explain that?”

“You'll explain it, Miss Banbury. You'll tell him that you welcomed my visit gladly. Your satisfaction will be obvious when we attend the soiree together this evening at Mrs. Bradley's.”

“You wish me to accompany you?”

“I do. And if you refuse,
all
of your secrets will become known.”

She swallowed, thinking frantically, but a solution did not occur to her. Whom could she tell without making this terrible situation worse? Not Daniel, not Edward.

“How long will you continue to threaten me, Mr. Jenkins?”

“You have forced me to use such methods to be
close to you, Miss Banbury,” he said, his features softening as he took several steps toward her.

She kept the sofa between them.

He looked pained. “All I want to do is court you, to treat you as reverently as any lady that I admire.”

“And do you blackmail all the ladies you admire?”

He winced. “I wish to spend time with you, Miss Banbury, and if this is the only way for you to get to know me, so be it. The others would never even give me a chance.”

“If you think so highly of me, why should I believe you would hurt me so cruelly by telling Society what my mother did to me?”

“Because if I could not be with you, then it would prove how shortsighted a woman you are. And such a woman would deserve the scorn of others.”

She was still gaping at him, struggling to see any logic in his argument, when he bowed to her.

“I will come in my carriage for you at seven, Miss Banbury. Please be waiting.”

She stood still as a statue for several minutes after he left, but at last, she gathered her strength. If one good thing had come of Mr. Jenkins's visit, it was that he had reminded her of how inappropriate she was as a wife to Daniel. She would never be free of her past, of her mother's sins. She could not bring such tragedy down on Daniel or his family. To make him forget about her, she would have to make sure he found another wife.

 

At Mrs. Bradley's soiree, guests were having conversations and light refreshments in one drawing room, while dancing was going on in the second drawing room. Mr. Jenkins had not left Grace's side for an hour, during which Daniel had also arrived. She'd felt his stare from across the room the moment he'd seen her with Mr. Jenkins. Although he'd betrayed no emotion, she could read the anger too well in his eyes. She'd promised him she would be careful about Mr. Jenkins, yet here she was, plastered to him.

Sadness clutched at her heart with real pain. She loved Daniel. Hurting him like this went against everything in her. She wanted to be safe in his arms, but if she was honest with herself, she knew their unconventional relationship would never have led to a quiet, happy marriage.

But other guests had noticed that she and Daniel didn't immediately come together. Many gazes moved between them with speculation, and Grace saw that Mr. Jenkins's pride was bolstered with each whisper about them. This was what he wanted. If he could not beat Daniel in a card game, it was obvious he wanted everyone to know he'd beaten him for a woman's attention.

So Daniel was forced for the moment to socialize with others, and Grace saw that a good deal of them were young ladies. Daniel's frequent appearances at Society events of late had led to a rise in his popularity. After all, the mamas could only be forced to conclude that he was looking for a
wife. His faults could be overlooked. And if he was not with Grace, then he had yet to decide on one, making him fair game.

Only when Mr. Jenkins saw Daniel disappear into the dancing room with a young lady did he offer to retrieve Grace some refreshments. She knew she was disappointing him by her sad silence, and she really must stop, in order to keep him happy. Eventually she would have to figure out what to do with him, but for now, in front of London Society, she could only tolerate him and pretend to enjoy it. In the moment of solitude, where she was the focus of speculation, she took a deep breath and tried to ease the painful constriction in her chest whenever she thought about Daniel.

“Miss Banbury?”

Grace opened her eyes and looked up into the dark, dashing features of the duke of Madingley. She had known when he'd arrived, of course, by the flutter of excitement that had passed through the rooms. A duke's acceptance of an invitation was a rare gift to a hostess, and Mrs. Bradley had stumbled into the arms of her husband as if she would swoon. But in the end, the duke had made his courtesies to a fawning Mrs. Bradley, and then had searched out his cousin, as was both men's habit when they were at the same event.

But somehow Grace had lost track of the duke and had not seen his advance.

The duke smiled at her. “Don't tell me you're about to faint at my presence like our hostess. I
will be forced to become a hermit if I keep having this effect on women.”

She smiled back, enjoying his easy humor. “Of course not, Your Grace. I'm made of sterner stuff.”

“So Daniel tells me.”

She blushed as if she imagined he'd been told intimate details of her. Of course Daniel would never betray her like that. Instead, she was being forced to betray him.

She sighed.

“Miss Banbury, you are not enjoying yourself this evening,” the duke said softly. “You and my cousin have not spoken.”

“You should be happy about that, Your Grace,” she said, beyond being polite. “Did you not wish to keep us apart?”

He blinked at her in surprise. Perhaps people did not regularly speak so forthrightly to a duke.

“I wished nothing of the sort, Miss Banbury. My only concern was that my cousin find happiness with someone who loved him for the right reasons. Don't we all wish such relationships for our families?”

She sighed. “Of course we do. Forgive my short temper.”

“You seem to be the one staying apart from him, Miss Banbury.”

She shrugged, hoping he'd believe that.

“Did you know that his mother arrived in town yesterday?”

Her eyes went wide as she met the knowing ones of the duke. “She did? But she never comes to town.”

“I rather thought it was a good thing, myself.”

“You don't think…” She trailed off, wondering if the family was rallying together to keep her and Daniel apart.

“That she's here because of you?” Madingley finished her thought.

“I would never be so presumptuous.”

“I think she's here because at last she realizes that although Daniel is not a child, perhaps they still need one another.”

“I hope he plays music for her,” Grace said softly, wanting Daniel's mother to see that he was getting better. She straightened as she realized that Mr. Jenkins was standing across the room, holding two glasses, and looking as if he didn't know whether to interrupt a duke.

“Music?” the duke repeated questioningly.

“I think at last he's ready to return to it,” Grace said. “Maybe you could encourage him.”

“I will admit,” the duke said, watching her with obvious bemusement, “that I have had several conversations about Daniel with young ladies in the last few years, but this is the most unusual. A woman always wants to know if he's interested in marriage, but—music?”

“It is not so strange in his family, Your Grace. And if you wish to talk about marriage where Daniel is concerned, I can give you several names of wonderful young ladies that might interest him.”

If a duke would ever let go of his pride to gape, Madingley would be doing so, she knew. She'd just suggested other women for Daniel to marry.

And suddenly she wanted to cry. Her eyes burned with tears she could not possibly shed, so with a quick curtsy, she left the duke and returned to Mr. Jenkins, who watched her warily, but seemed to relax when she only gave him a smile as she took her lemonade.

She wished it were something stronger.

 

Daniel escorted the third young lady to her mother, bowed, and quickly took his leave. But he was too late to approach Grace, who'd left Chris and returned to Jenkins's side like a dutiful wife.

Daniel felt murderous, as he imagined what might have happened to make Grace behave like this. Obviously, he'd underestimated his opponent.

But mixed in with his anger was jealousy and bewilderment, and a pain that seemed like sadness, but was so much more. After the incredible passion they'd shared, why had she not come to him about Jenkins? The fact that she still didn't trust him was a blow that hurt worse than he'd thought possible.

“If you stare any harder at Grace, her dress will catch fire.”

Daniel gave a start and glanced at Edward Banbury, who stood at his side looking coolly about the drawing room.

“I am not staring at her in so obvious a manner,” Daniel said, his jaw clenched.

“Who is that she's with, making you crazy?”

“Horace Jenkins, the man I gambled against, along with your mother.”

Now it was Banbury's turn to glare across the room. “The fellow you thought might be watching her?”

Daniel nodded. “And now she's with him. Did she make any explanations to you?”

“None.”

“But surely you're happy she's not here with me,” Daniel said with sarcasm.

“Strangely enough, that's not true.” He sighed and looked down at the champagne in his glass. “So what are you going to do about this?” He motioned with his glass toward his sister.

“You're not going to insist it's your place to protect her?”

“You seem to want to take over for me in that department.”