A Scandalous Charade (35 page)

This was a fool’s errand.

Luke walked around the hell and raised his glass to more than one old friend or ex-lover. This was what his life had come to—spending time around drunken bucks, gambling nabobs, and brazen women.

Again, he felt lost and full of remorse and regret. These sensations were still fairly new for him, and for his part, he wasn’t too keen on any of it. His entire life he’d been an unrepentant, self-serving bastard. Or at least, that was what Juliet thought. Of course, she was right.

Oh, Juliet.

What kind of trouble was she in that she was hiding in Dorset? If he’d been able to stay at Gosling, he could have watched after her, kept her safe, convinced her to love him like she used to. But Lydia had ruined all that.

How he hated his sister-in-law.

Luke downed a good portion of the whiskey in his hands and sank into a seat close enough to the hazard tables so that he could keep Haywood in his sights. He leaned back and glanced around the room. Then he lost himself in one glass after another.

When had his life become this uncomfortable state he now resided in? It really wasn’t all that long ago that he’d been satisfied with his life. Wine, women, and song—why had he ever complained about that? Because it had been a hollow existence.

Perhaps if he’d told Robert the truth about Lydia from the beginning, his brother wouldn’t be married to the little tart. And she wouldn’t now be trying to pass someone else’s bastard off as the next heir to Robert’s earldom.  

Poor Robert.

Anyone with eyes could see that gruff earl had actually fallen in love with his scandalous wife, though Luke still found that hard to believe. In truth, he didn’t care about not being Robert’s heir—not really. The stress of the title and obligations… Well, that just wasn’t something Luke had ever wished for. He’d always been happy with his own lot and didn’t want Robert’s life.

Luke drained another whiskey and sank back in his seat with a sigh. What could he do now? He’d tried to warn Robert. He’d tried to tell him the truth. But the bloody love-sick idiot wouldn’t pay him one bit of attention. Damn Lydia Masten to hell. Robert didn’t deserve whatever she had planned for him. And while he was at it, damn himself, as well. It was, after all, his fault that his brother was in this trouble to begin with.

“Lucas?” a soft feminine voice asked at his side.

Luke turned his head and stared up at an old familiar face. Mrs. Cecily Rigsley, Robert’s one time paramour, dropped into the seat next to Luke and she smiled warmly. Now, why hadn’t Robert made things work with her? She was much more his brother’s type—long legs, slender frame, thick brown hair and dark eyes. “Evening, Cecily.”

Cecily reached across her seat and took Luke’s hands in hers. “Why, Lucas, whatever has you so distressed, my dear boy?”

Though Luke usually held his cards fairly close to his vest, he surprised himself when he began to tell her his troubles with Robert. But after all, Cecily probably knew his brother better than he did. She might have a perspective he didn’t. Besides, it felt a bit better to get the pressing weight off his chest, so he held nothing back and told her everything about his brother and Lydia.

Cecily listened with great interest and a consoling ear. “His wife?” she echoed in surprise. “Is that the little flame-haired chit I spied him with at Drury Lane?”

“Flame-haired? I suppose it was.” Luke nodded miserably.

“I wondered who she was. At first I thought perhaps she was Astwick’s light-o-love. But since his mother was present, I figured that wasn’t the case. But for God’s sake, Lucas, I never would have dreamed that slight little girl was Lady Masten.”

“Her looks can be deceiving,” Luke admitted sullenly. He’d learned that first hand.

“And Robert is truly smitten with her?”

Was there a jealous edge to Cecily’s voice? No, of course not. She and Robert had been finished long before Lydia entered the scene. “Blinded is more like it, and it’s all my fault, Cecily.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous. Robert is a grown man. You can’t be held responsible for his choices.”

“But I know her, Cecily. I know that she’s passing off some lover’s child as Robert’s. I don’t mind being passed over by a legitimate heir, mind you, but it is a bit nauseating to think that some gent’s by-blow will take my place in line.”

“Don’t be so distraught.” Cecily caressed his folded hands, “Perhaps the child is Robert’s, after all. He’s not a fool, your brother.”

Luke held Cecily’s dark gaze. “You’re very kind, Cecily, but I know what I know. Why did Robert ever leave you?”

Cecily frowned and looked down. “Your brother can be a very unforgiving man. I said some things I shouldn’t have when I was a bit foxed. And, well, that was the end.”

Through his alcohol-induced haze, Luke nodded glumly. It was coming back to him now. But slowly. He blinked and tried to remember the exact circumstances. Ah, yes, Cecily had taken up with Lord Audley after some blowup she’d had with Robert at Vauxhall. Audley had been put out over losing a promising bay to Robert on the stocks, and had taken great pleasure in relieving Masten of his mistress as a consolation prize of sorts.

By the time Cecily had realized that Audley had no intention of making their friendship a permanent one, Robert had already washed his hands of her. Yes, her desertion was not something Robert would forgive easily. And really none of it mattered anymore, anyway. His brother was in so deep with Lydia that it made Robert’s days of sparring with Cecily at Vauxhall looked like child’s play. “Thank you for your ear, Cecily. And if it’s any comfort, I think Robert was a fool to let you go.”

“You are such a dear, Lucas.” Her eyes sparkled with delight. Then she stood and happily left him. Luke looked back down into his now empty glass.

An audible “Aw” was heard from the hazard table. His head popped up and he re-focused on Will. Damn. Haywood’s shoulders were slumped forward and head was bent in defeat.

“He’s a fool in many ways,” came a soft male voice, only a few feet away. “I had hoped you weren’t like him.”

Luke turned in his seat and stared at a young man. Even with his eye sight a bit blurred, Luke thought the fellow looked a bit familiar. “I b—beg your pardon,” his voice sounded slurred to his own ears.

***

Hugh sat in a chair across from Mr. Beckford and shook his head. He had not been happy to recognize him enter this establishment. If Luke Beckford was in London, where was Juliet? And was she safe? Hugh shook his head in disgust.

“I wish you wouldn’t do that. You’re making the room spin.”

The man was deep in his cups, and Hugh couldn’t understand what Juliet saw in the lout. He’d been fairly unhappy to learn that Luke was friends with William Haywood, knowing full well what that despicable man was capable of.  “Have you seen my cousin?”

Luke Beckford started to laugh, a pitiful, self-loathing laugh. “God, you sound like my brother. No one ever wants to discuss their wives with me.”

A rich baritone chuckle boomed nearby, and Hugh turned to Chet standing behind him. The marquess’ soft green eye twinkled. “Of course he’s got nothing to say to you, St. Claire. Beckford only speaks pleasantly to the ladies.”

Luke glowered at Chet. “Bugger off, Astwick.”

Chet laughed heartily again. “Don’t mind him,” he remarked to Hugh, “that’s how he generally greets me. Come along. I’m terribly anxious to partner you in whist. With your mind and my luck, we’ll break any man who is foolish enough to play against us.” Then he winked at Luke. “You look awful. Is this what spending time with Robert does for you?”

Luke responded with only a scowl.

Hugh shook his head. Over the last few weeks he’d come to respect and admire Chet. He was a perennially cheerful and honorable man. It surprised him that the marquess appeared to like Luke Beckford—because from what Hugh had seen thus far, there wasn’t much to like. “You’re friends with him?” he asked before he could stop himself as they neared the card room.

Chet agreed with a nod. “He’s not such a bad fellow. Not really. Known him since he was in leading strings. Masten, his older brother, and I met as boys at Eton. You’ve met my mother. I tried to spend every possible holiday with the Beckford family.”

Chet heaved a sigh. “Even if he did, he’s in no condition to tell you. Never, and I mean never, in his life have I seen him this foxed. Luke Beckford is a man who can hold his liquor—he’s had lots of practice, but he won’t even remember speaking to you come morning.”

~ 27 ~

Juliet no longer believed there was anything untoward going on between the countess and Luke. The earl doted on her every waking hour, and Lady Masten reveled in the attention. The two of them were deeply in love. Juliet felt foolish that she’d ever thought otherwise. Though none of that excused Luke’s lies, so she tried not to think about him. Working with Peter and Penny kept her occupied and she, thankfully, didn’t fall back into her earlier melancholy. Work was good.

But now Juliet had something else to worry about.

How could Caroline have neglected to mention that the Carterets were relations to Lady Masten? She had been shocked when two traveling coaches had arrived that day, bringing with it two pillars of London society. Juliet paced around the schoolroom, her heart pounding rapidly. They would most assuredly recognize her, especially Bethany Carteret, as she and Georgie had been fairly close.  

So Juliet would have to make herself scarce and never leave the schoolroom—which is precisely what she had been doing ever since Luke left Gosling Park. Fortunately, the earl had been so consumed with the countess’ delicate condition that he hadn’t yet sacked Juliet. She hoped that if she kept to herself, perhaps the Mastens would forget about her little incident in the library with Luke altogether. So far, she’d been fortunate.

But now that the Carterets were here and with their large brood of five children in tow, all of whom spent time dashing about the schoolroom, she wasn’t sure how long her good fortune would last. Keeping up with two children was one thing—seven was something else entirely. And she couldn’t shake the notion that she was always about to bump into their parents. Then her whole ruse would have all been for naught.  

Juliet stopped her pacing to stare out the window. From where she stood, she had an excellent view the ocean beneath. It seemed calm, as if it went on forever. Those waters would take her and Edmund away from England to safety. She just wished he was back from India, that they could leave now. Start over.

“We only saw a fellow on a horse.” Penny’s voice, shook Juliet from her reverie.

“Well,” began Morgan McFadyn, the Carteret’s precocious six-year-old son, “we got stopped by a band of highwaymen.”

“A band?” his eight-year-old sister Katriona echoed with a frown. “Honestly, Morgan, you exaggerate more than even Uncle Anthony.”

Morgan thrust out his chin and glowered at his sister. “I’m telling the story, El, and if you don’t want to hear it, you can go somewhere else.” Then he turned back to a wide-eyed Peter and Penny. “Anyway, this band of highwaymen shot their pistols into the air and our traveling coaches stopped so suddenly that Liam fell out of his seat and bit the inside of his cheek.”

Penny touched her tongue inside her own cheek in commiseration, while Peter’s brown eyes grew even wider from the tale.

Liam, the ten-year-old Lord MacFadyn, rolled his own eyes at his younger brother. “Morgan, I don’t think you can even call them highwaymen. They didn’t steal anything from us. They were simply looking for someone.”

Morgan now turned a perfectly putrid shade of red and sputtered, “I’m the one telling the story.”

Looking for someone? Juliet swallowed. In the pit of her stomach she knew those men were looking for her. “Who were they were looking for?”

Liam shrugged. “I’m not sure. Some lady, I expect. They had a miniature and they looked Mama over pretty well. I thought Papa was about to throttle every single one of them.”

“They were looking for Lady Juliet,” replied Katriona authoritatively.

Liam shook his head. “You’ve only heard Mama talking about Lady Juliet’s disappearance at home. Those men didn’t say that name.”  

“Well, who else would they be looking for? Besides, Fiona and I rode with Papa, and he caught a glimpse of that miniature. And he says that it looked like Lady Juliet. So, you don’t need to be so smug, Liam. You don’t know everything.”

“No,” Morgan came to his brother’s defense, “that would be you, Katriona.”

When it became apparent that a sibling brawl was imminent, Juliet separated the children to different areas of the room—though Morgan and Katriona continued to shoot daggers from their eyes at each other.