A Scandalous Charade (32 page)

***

Juliet caressed Luke’s hand where he held her against him. She’d just had the same thought. Luke’s child. The idea made her giddy. She would love that child more than life itself. “I know,” she whispered back. And they would be safe. When Edmund returned, they could go to Boston. She could pass herself off as a widow.  Then after her brother reached his majority, they could all return to London and she could tell everyone that she’d married in America and that her husband had passed away. The child wouldn’t be exposed as a bastard, and she would always have a piece of Luke with her forever.

Her thoughts of America and children evaporated when he rolled her beneath him and he made love to her all over again.

~ 24 ~

Caroline adored Chester Paddock, the Marquess of Astwick. In many ways he was like another older brother to her. More light-hearted than Robert and more respectable than Luke. Besides, she could talk to him about practically anything, which wasn’t necessarily the case with her real brothers. So she was happy when she saw him enter the Ellsworth Ballroom, as it had been too long since she’d talked to Chet—who really did need to find a bride of his own. Once she had finished with Robert and Luke, she’d have to turn her attentions on the affable marquess.

Drat! Staveley’s youngest sister wasn’t anybody’s sort, which really was distressing as she needed to find someone for the overzealous flirt. “You sound like Luke,” she complained with a pout.

Chet roared with laughter. “That has to be the first time anyone has ever said that to me. Speaking of the profligate, where is Lucas?”

“Gosling Park.”

“Gosling Park?” Chet nearly choked on his punch. “The same Gosling Park where Masten has taken his beautiful bride?” At her nod, he rubbed his brow. “I can imagine the fireworks. Have you heard any word from Rob?”

The situation with Robert and Lydia couldn’t be going better if she’d planned it that way, which indeed she had. The missives from her oldest brother were vindication of her meddling.  She only wished she had more news about her other brother at Gosling Park, but that scoundrel hadn’t written her once since he departed for Dorset. She certainly couldn’t ask Robert about Luke’s progress. She’d just have to wait it out, and patience was not one of Caroline’s best qualities.

The marquess winked at her. “You, my dear, are truly amazing. It takes a brave woman to blindside Masten the way you did. Honestly, Caro, even I wouldn’t have sprung his wife on him like that.”

He was obviously referring to her ball when she’d brought Robert and his wife together, and she blushed from the praise. “I’m not brave, Chet. Just confident in my abilities to escape death at the hands of my brother. I’ve had lots of practice.”

As he chuckled, they were interrupted. “Lady Staveley,” Hugh St. Claire broke in, wearing much more fashionable evening attire than he normally did. “How wonderful to see you again.”

Caroline frowned. She didn’t know what to think about this young man. He had helped Juliet escape Derbyshire, but he was now here in London with his father looking for her. Could he have had a change of heart? She wasn’t sure, and therefore kept her distance from the man most of the time. “Mr. St. Claire, have you met Lord Astwick?”

Hugh nodded and offered his hand to Chet. “We meet again, Astwick.”

Chet grinned and leaned conspiratorially toward Caroline. “This fellow has a good head on his shoulders. He actually beat me at piquet.”

Which was something no one did. He must have won a fair amount. The new, fashionable clothes made sense. Chet wasn’t a fool by anyone’s standards, and the fact that he liked Hugh meant something to Caroline. Just as she was about to smile at the young man, they were joined by a harassed looking Thomas Clarke.

The tradesman’s brow was furrowed and his mouth drawn up tight. “St. Claire, where is my daughter?”

A look of concern flashed across Hugh’s eye and he shook his head. “I’ve only just arrived, sir, and haven’t yet seen her this evening.”

Mr. Clarke scanned the room again, his countenance darkening. “I’ve been looking for quite some time with no luck.”

“Well, I’ll be happy to help you look for her, sir.” Hugh replied. That offer was quickly seconded by both Caroline and Chet, and the four of them split up and began searching through the throng of people.

Miss Clarke was known to have hidden in quiet places in the past, or so Caroline had heard. With that in mind, she started off toward the Ellsworth library. But as she rounded one corner on her journey, a whimpering sound coming from a small parlor caught her attention. Whimpering? Caroline pushed open the door and her mouth nearly fell to the floor.

She’d found Miss Clarke, and it was a good thing too.

William Haywood held the poor terrified girl against the back wall, the top half of her gown torn and hanging at her waist, exposing much more flesh than was proper. And for perhaps the first time in her life, Caroline was speechless.

Miss Clarke’s whimpers turned to a relieved intake of air when she spotted Caroline in the doorway. At the sound, Haywood turned around and grinned victoriously. “See that, my dear? Someone was bound to find us. I suppose I shall have to marry you now, to protect your reputation.”

Tears started to stream down Miss Clarke’s face, and Caroline stomped forward. The despicable cad! If she had a gun, she’d maim him on the spot. Sans weapon, she glared at the young man. “William Haywood, what do you think you’re doing?”

With a smug bow, Haywood met her eyes. “Excuse me, Lady Staveley, but I’d best go speak to the girl’s father.” Then he quickly took his leave.

Caroline reached out her hand to the poor, frightened girl. “Miss Clarke, are you hurt?”

The girl took a staggering breath and shook her head, while struggling to make the ripped bodice presentable, which wasn’t ever going to happen. The dress was completely ruined. “Please, Lady Staveley, you can’t let him find my father.”

“Dear Heavens, Susan!” Hugh St. Claire’s anguished voice rang out from the doorway.

***

Hugh couldn’t believe his eyes as he took in the scene. Over the last few weeks in London, he’d grown very attached to Susan Clarke. She was without malice or artifice, and he completely adored the girl, who was now quivering beside Lady Staveley. Susan’s dress was destroyed and tears ran down her blotchy cheeks.

Moments earlier he’d seen William Haywood saunter from the room, like a man who didn’t have a care in the world. His easy gait should have made Hugh suspicious, but he’d been so focused on finding Susan he hadn’t spared the baron a second thought. But now looking at her trembling lips, it was obvious that Haywood had done this to her.

He rushed to Susan’s side and she threw her arms around his neck, sobbing into his new cravat. Words wouldn’t come out of her mouth, so Hugh simply held her in his arms, caressing her back with his hands. “It’ll be all right, sweetheart.” He would make it all right, no matter what it took.

Lady Staveley met his eyes, concern etched in hers.  “I’d best go find Mr. Clarke.”

Hugh nodded his thanks to the viscountess, and tightened his hold on Susan. When he got his hands on Haywood, he would tear him limb from limb. How could anyone hurt such a sweet girl?

After a moment, Susan pulled away from him and brushed away her straggling tears. “He said I’d be ruined a—and I’d have to marry him.”

Hugh removed his jacket and wrapped it around her arms. It wasn’t much protection, but it was better than nothing.  At least no one could see her ripped bodice any longer. Susan had already informed the baron days earlier that she could not accept his offer, and Hugh knew she was hoping to have one from him instead. Though he’d been unsure how to proceed. He adored her with all of his heart, but to subject her to his family, his father in particular… Well, that he hadn’t wanted to do.

Susan was shaking, and Hugh ‘s heart constricted in his chest. He shook his head. “I won’t let that happen, Susan.” And he couldn’t. He didn’t have much to his name, but he couldn’t let this darling girl end up saddled with that despicable baron for the rest of her days. “Sweetheart, I—I don’t have anything to offer you. Not a title, not lands, not money.” He’d never felt so worthless in his life. She deserved much more than he could ever give her. But she had been compromised, and in his mind he was a better option than Haywood. At least he cared for her. “But I’ll give you my heart and undying devotion.”

Her eyes widened in surprise and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, Hugh!” she choked back a sob and once again threw her arms around his neck. “That’s all I want.”

“Then that’s good enough for me,” came Thomas Clarke’s booming voice from the doorway—his wife, Lord Astwick, and Lady Staveley in his wake. Susan clung more tightly to him, and Hugh swallowed hard, glancing at the girl’s father.

“Hmm. After you marry my daughter, which by the way should be very soon, you’ll receive a large portion of my companies. I’d like for you to know something about the business.”

“The boy’s got a good head for numbers,” Lord Astwick muttered loud enough for the entire room to hear.

“Thomas,” a disheartened Mrs. Clarke whispered. Though it seemed that Mr. Clarke had accepted the circumstances that Susan found herself in, it didn’t appear that his wife shared his optimistic view. “Perhaps you and Mr. St. Claire should discuss the details in private.”

And discuss them they did. Hugh was to acquire a special license at the crack of dawn and then report to Mr. Clarke’s office to start his education of the tea business. Susan and her mother would rent a townhouse in Mayfair, if possible, and they would marry in the late afternoon.

All that remained left to do, was to break the news to his own father. After promising Susan that all would be well, Hugh started for Upper Brook Street. He was not looking forward this interview, but it needed to be done.

He found Lord Albert in the study, deep in his cups—which seemed to be his usual state as of late. Hugh sighed as he assessed the scene. After a moment, he cleared his throat, gaining his father’s attention.

“It’s about time you got back,” the old man barked from his place behind an old elder wood desk.

Hugh ignored his father’s booming voice, straightened his shoulders, and boldly announced, “I have news, father. I’m getting married.”

“The tea merchant?” his father nearly spat. Then he shook his head dismissively. “You are supposed to marry your cousin, or have you forgotten?”

His cousin. Juliet, whom he was certain was safely stashed away with her lover. He’d done a fair amount of eavesdropping on Lady Staveley and her friends to discover that Luke Beckford had gone to visit his brother, an earl of some sort, at his Dorset estate. The pieces of the puzzle all fell together nicely—puzzle pieces he was certain his father would never put together. “Father, even if Juliet was here, she would never agree to marry me.”

Lord Albert ran a hand through his thinning hair and narrowed his icy eyes on Hugh. “She won’t have a choice in the matter. You have a duty to this family, and you’re not marrying some merchant’s daughter.”

Hugh snorted. He’d been controlled by this man for all of his days, and marrying Susan would free him. He’d have a new family in the form of the Clarkes. He’d make his own way, learn Thomas Clarke’s trade, and build a new life with Susan. “You don’t really have a say in the matter, father. I simply thought you deserved to know.”

Then he turned on his heels and made his way to his room, for his last night spent in Prestwick House.

~ 25 ~

A routine of sorts was established. Luke would roll out of Juliet’s bed before Peter and Penny entered the schoolroom. Then later in the day he would escort the three of them to the locale for that day’s picnic lunch. Dinner was generally an uncomfortable affair, as it was the only time they had to socialize with Robert and Lydia. But after dinner…well, that was Luke’s favorite part of the day. He’d suffer through port with Robert, and then retire to his room…er, make that Juliet’s room, where he would ravish her most of the night.

It was as if they were living in a sort of dream world—living together, loving each other, but all in secret. However, one secret was bothering Luke more and more. He still didn’t have a clue as to why Juliet was hiding, passing herself off as Miss Mitford, and he was afraid to broach the subject for fear that she’d push him away. And that was the last thing he wanted. So he held his tongue and just hoped that she’d finally open up to him.

Luke found Juliet and her pint-sized charges in the library. They were looking at an old book on pirates—one Luke vaguely remembered from his own childhood. The three of them hadn’t spotted him yet, and he leaned against a mahogany bookcase, watching the light pour in through the window, shining down on his princess.