A Taste for Scandal (39 page)

“Now then,” she said, crossing her arms. “There are sure to be many more trials and tribulations in our future as the
ton
learns to accept Miss Bunting. But with all of us rallied around her, things are sure to work out for the best. Agreed?”

She looked expectantly back and forth between them. Father met his eye, some of the color returning to his cheeks.

Together they nodded, both cowed by the resplendent woman before them.

“Agreed.”

“Jane Bunting?”

His voice was loud and clear, easily carrying over the terrace. Jane struggled to pull in a normal breath as conversation died and other couples nearby turned to stare. Beatrice and Evie exchanged confused glances. Evie stepped closer to Jane, slipping her fingers in Jane’s icy hand. “Perhaps we should step down into the garden so we don’t bother the lovely people around us.”

Her voice was steely, and brooked no argument. Without waiting for the others to accept, she turned and headed for the stairs, tugging Jane down behind her. Jane felt as though she were moving through a fog, with her ears roaring and her vision dimmed. The very man who had destroyed life as she once knew it, walking not ten steps behind her. She simply couldn’t seem to push past the shock.

When they stopped a few yards away from the terrace, Evie turned, her hand going to her hip. “Is there a problem, Lord Andrew?”

“Lady Evelyn, I take no pleasure in informing you that this woman is here under false pretenses. In fact, I urge you to call for the watch.” The words were spoken with such derision, he could have been speaking of a rat or an insect.

Beatrice shifted away from him, her shoulders stiff with affront. “How can you say such a thing? Miss Bunting is here at my invitation, and I will thank you not to disparage her character.”

The need to escape burned through her, urging her to lift her skirts and race for the gate, away from the ugliness brewing beside her, away from the man she had desperately hoped never to see again. She was the outsider here. She didn’t want Evie or Beatrice or, God forbid, Richard to suffer for her presence here tonight.

Gravell laid a calming hand on Beatrice’s elbow. “My dear, you have been deceived. Don’t blame yourself. If you had only known that this woman was an imposter, a commoner masquerading as a lady, I’m certain she never would have been let through the door. Come, let’s—”

“No,” Beatrice said, yanking her arm away. “Jane is—”

“No, please,” Jane said, her throat choked with emotion as she held up a staying hand to her friend. “I’ll go.”

Evie started to protest but Jane shook her head and pulled away. The sooner she could escape from Gravell’s presence the better. He had taken so much from her, and now he was trying to take her dignity. In the dim lighting, she could just make out the sheen of sweat beading on his brow. She paused, feeling as though she were waking from a dream. The blackguard was afraid of her! He would have never expected to cross paths with her among his own social circle. He knew what she could say, knew what people would think if they ever learned of his drunken collision and the innocent life it took. By God, she could expose him.

She drew herself up, her shoulders held ramrod straight and her nostrils flared. “Although, of the two of us, Lord Andrew, I believe it is you who are the bigger fraud.”

“Why, you nasty little—”

“I’d be
very
careful what you say next, Gravell.”

Jane’s heart nearly came out of her chest at the sound of Richard’s voice as he stepped onto the path and advanced on them. He was like a coiled spring, his fists curling by his sides as if waiting for the slightest provocation to attack. He looked furious, dangerous, and absolutely magnificent. He was her avenging angel, and she loved him for it.

“Raleigh, calm down. This has nothing to do with you.”

“If it involves Miss Bunting, then it has everything to do with me.”

Gravell’s shoulders tensed, and he looked between the three siblings. “I’m trying to save you from your own folly. This woman is nothing but a common, lowborn—”

Richard moved so fast his hands were a blur as he snatched Gravell by the cravat, cutting off his words with a gurgle. Richard looked to Jane, his expression casual. “Did I overhear you calling Lord Andrew here a fraud?”

She snapped her mouth closed and nodded. “Um, yes.”

“And would this have anything to do with the premature death of your father at the hands of a drunken lord?” Gravell made another gurgling noise, struggling to loosen Richard’s hold.

She nodded, the faintest glimmer of satisfaction buoying her heart. Beatrice and Evie both gasped, taking a step away from the two men. After all these years, just hearing the words spoken aloud soothed the injustice that had rankled for so long. Just to know that Richard and his sisters were on her side, and were disgusted with the man, was a balm to her soul. It was enough. Just having the words spoken was enough to feel that Papa’s death had not been swept beneath the rug forever.

Richard inclined his head. “Ah, I see.”

With a quick kick of his leg, he brought Gravell to his knees. He leaned down, bringing his face only inches from his opponent’s. “Let me make myself very clear, sir. Regardless of where she came from, Miss Bunting is your better in almost every possible way. And, if I have my way, she will soon be your better in
all
ways.

“I know all about the way you weaseled out of taking responsibility for Mr. Bunting’s death. I know that you paid men off to buy your way out of your problems. And if I hear that you’ve been spreading tales to anyone, and I mean
anyone
, about Miss Bunting, I will see to it that every household in London knows of your shame.

“Now,” he said, straightening and offering a polite smile, “do I make myself clear?”

Gravell nodded, his eyes huge in the moonlight.

“Good. I strongly suggest that you leave right now and never come back to this or any other house where we may be.” Richard pushed the man away, and he stumbled backward before gaining his footing and bolting for the gate.

For a moment Jane just stared, hardly able to believe what Richard had done.

“Right, then,” he said, brushing off his hands. “That is the second time I have come to your rescue. I sincerely hope you actually needed it this time.”

She grinned, shaking her head at his humor. “I do believe you are my hero.”

“That was incredible,” Beatrice exclaimed, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “I mean, I’m terribly disappointed that Lord Andrew turned out to be such a dreadful person—he was quite handsome, after all—but I had no idea you could be quite so terrifying, Richard.”

Evie nodded “Oh, yes, that and more. You should have seen him up against the murderous Frenchman.”

“What?” Jane squeaked, looking to him with raised brows. “What else don’t I know about you?”

“Fodder for another time, I’m afraid. We need to get back to the ball. After all, I have an announcement to make.”

The joy in Jane’s heart crashed to the ground like a shattered plate. The shards seem to spread out over the lawn, irretrievable. “No, Richard, wait—”

He waved a hand, disregarding her words. “I can’t wait any longer, I’m afraid. I’ve waited longer than I should have as it is.”

“Please—”

“Jane,” he said, placing a finger to her lips. “Trust me. We can talk later.”

Beatrice and Evie exchanged glances, then looked at Richard.

“Yes,” Beatrice said, slipping her arm through Jane’s. “We have to get back, and afterward we can talk as late as you like, provided we have ample tea and biscuits.”

It was happening too soon, too fast. Before she knew it, they were back in the ballroom, with Richard striding toward the orchestra while his sisters flanked Jane on either side, propelling her forward.

Richard leaned forward and spoke to one of the musicians, and they abruptly stopped playing. A hush swept through the room, followed by the low murmur of speculation as all eyes went to the front.

Jane didn’t want to watch this, didn’t even want to be in the same room, but her two escorts kept their arms locked tightly in place. They weren’t even paying attention to her. Surely they must realize how difficult this was. Jane caught sight of Charity’s tall, willowy figure as the girl wended her way through the crowd, smiling her apologies as she pushed her way through. Jane pressed her eyes closed. Her nightmare was complete.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Richard’s voice boomed out over the echoing hall just as Charity arrived at Evie’s side, “it gives me great pleasure to make a very special introduction tonight. As many of you know, I have been a very,
very
happy bachelor for years, and had no plans to change that status anytime soon.” He paused as titters went through the crowd. “But sometimes the choice isn’t ours. Sometimes, circumstances change, and we are forced to adapt.”

There was utter silence in the hall. Everyone there must have known of the marquis’s illness. Jane bowed her head, wishing she could somehow disappear.

“And sometimes,” he said, a slow grin growing on his handsome, surprisingly mischievous face, “we find ourselves at the mercy of a power greater than ourselves. That something may come in many different forms, but for me, it came in the most powerful form of all: true love.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd behind them. Jane could only shake her head, those two words repeating like a mantra in her mind.
True love
. He had never once spoken of any sort of love for Charity. If he had, she would have pushed him away long ago.

“I never pictured myself as the head-over-heels-in-love kind of person. I’d leave that to the poets and the romantics. But when I met this lady, I was quite literally swept right off my feet. She was beautiful, and generous, and exquisitely talented in a way that a humble soul like myself could only dream of. And honestly, she could not have been more the opposite of me.

“Along the way, I discovered that I didn’t care how different we were from each other. If she had the ability to turn me into the sappy, love-struck fool you see before you now, then I couldn’t possibly let her go. From this moment on, I want you to know that to accept me is to accept her, and vice versa, because tonight, I happily retire my reputation as a confirmed bachelor.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I give to you the woman I hope to be my future wife: Miss Jane Bunting.”

For a moment, Jane felt nothing at all, confused by his words. Had she imagined them? But then he looked right at her, his silver gaze dancing as he held out his hand. Good heavens, it was true! She never imagined this moment could actually happen, that he would declare his love before all and claim her for his own.

Joy, happiness, and most of all, love flooded through her like rushing water, washing away the heartache, the sadness, and the regret that had plagued her for weeks. Evie and Beatrice kissed her cheeks and pushed her forward, while Charity smiled and winked.

He wrapped his hand around hers, pulling her forward with exquisite tenderness. The crowd clapped, a cheer rising to the ceiling. He ignored everything around them, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. “I suppose now would be a good time to ask if you’ll marry me.”

She laughed, indescribable bliss lifting her from the inside out. Throwing him a coy look, she nodded. “I suppose Lady Lunatic does have a certain ring to it.”

He grinned, love shining in his eyes for all to see. “Is that a yes?”

She nodded, tears of joy filling her eyes. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.”

Epilogue

Dear Mrs. Bunting,

Thank you for your splendid advice to my wife. Well, ignoring those first letters, of course. But those last two, those made up for everything. Especially that last one. I am still grateful for your suggestion that Jane—

“Richard! Don’t you dare write another word.” Jane laughed, tossing a pillow across the bedchamber and narrowly missing her husband’s bare shoulder.

He looked up with mock affront, his blond curls falling gracelessly over his brow. “Excuse me, I was composing a note to my mother-in-law. I advise you to stay out of it.”

“I can’t very well stay out of it when you are composing aloud,” she said, turning over to her side on the bed and propping her head up with her palm. “Besides, it’s getting late. We need to get dressed and gather the ingredients we’ll need for the lessons today at the orphanage.”

He stood and stretched, and she took full advantage of the view. She loved a bare chest first thing in the morning. “What is the recipe this week?”

She tapped her chin innocently. “I was thinking something simple. How about shortbread?”

He paused midstretch, a wolfish grin turning up the corners of his utterly kissable lips. “I love shortbread.”

“Do you? I hadn’t realized.”

He moved toward her, his movements slow and deliberate. “Do you want to know why I love it so much?”

“Because it tastes like crunchy butter?” she teased, anticipation building low in her belly. Good things always happened when he looked at her like that.
Very
good things.

He shook his head, his gaze pinning her where she lay. “I love it because it doesn’t take very long to make,” he said, sliding back into bed and covering her body with his own. “Which means we’ll have plenty of time to finish the lesson, even if we are late.”

She giggled, loving the weight of him against her . . . and loving even more what she knew was to come. “I think perhaps we should test that theory, my lord.”

“As you wish, my lady.”

Author’s Note

As a longtime baker and lover of history, I had the most fun researching cooking methods and recipes that would have been available to Jane. In the course of my research, I discovered many wonderful cookbooks written in the late-eighteenth and early-nineteenth centuries. Of particular note to me was the intrepid Elizabeth Raffold, a housekeeper turned entrepreneur turned author who wrote the highly successful
The Experienced English Housekeeper
in the mid-eighteenth century. She led a fascinating life, and I encourage you to look her up.