Bath Scandal (23 page)

At four o’clock, a fine rain began to patter against her window. Was that better or worse for Southam’s chances? At four-thirty it stopped. The dueling site would be encased in fog, with water dripping from the trees, to lend the proper lugubrious atmosphere. Beatrice thought she might drive out to the cemetery—but then, there was no saying that was the site chosen. And besides, the dueling ground was not actually at the cemetery, but in some secret enclave nearby. No, there was no point in going. She would suffer the woman’s silent torment of waiting and worrying.

Her nerves were in tatters when she rose and got dressed at seven o’clock. She went downstairs, wanting only peace and quiet, and was immediately faced with a hostile Miss Swann. Deborah ignored her hostess, as if she were not in the room, and spoke to the servant.

“I have been ringing for half an hour,” she said. “Why was my bell not answered?”

“We don’t come on duty till seven, ma’am.”

“Really!” It was a burst of annoyance. “I want my carriage at the door at eight-thirty. Breakfast in my room, at once.” The servant curtsied and left.

Beatrice looked askance at her guest. She was glad to see she wore a traveling suit. Bea was in no mood for condescension, but felt some words of farewell ought to be exchanged.

“So, you are leaving, Deborah?” she said.

Deborah turned a wrathful face on her. “I would never have come if I had had the slightest idea what sort of woman you have become, Mrs. Searle. I rue the day I sent Lady Gillian to you. I shall not thank you for having me, nor apologize for not doing so. You only allowed Gillian to come here to get your talons into Southam. The more fool he, for being so easily duped.”

“Are you not concerned that he might, even now, be lying dead?”

“Not in the least. As it will prevent him from making a misalliance with yourself, it is the best thing that could happen to him.”

“That sounds remarkably like a bitch in the manger. As we are being entirely frank, I have a few things to say as well. You only sent Gillie here because you did not want to be bothered with her. You knew she saw through your stunt of pretending an entirely spurious interest in Southam’s family. You wanted a wealthy, titled husband, but you did not want the duties his family entailed. The best thing I ever did was to show Southam the error of his ways.”

“Don’t think he’ll marry you! A woman who sullies her name by a duel and travels abroad with a gentleman without benefit of marriage will never be anything but a temporary diversion for a man like Southam. Foolish as he is, he won’t marry you.”

“There is such a thing as too much propriety, Miss Swann.”

“How would you know?” Miss Swann retaliated, and sailed out of the door before Beatrice could think of a set-down.

Deborah was on thorns to get back to Alderton to call on Stuyvesant. Very likely it was love of herself that had caused him to shy off from having Gillian. He, a
real
gentleman, would sympathize with her in her hour of distress. The naughtiness of her having turned Southam off would lend her a dashing air that might appeal to Stuyvesant. Only a baron, unfortunately, but then, look how high her papa had soared on a baron’s wings.

Beatrice didn’t take breakfast. While she sipped her coffee, Gillian came down. She was looking out of sorts, although she knew nothing of the duel.

“Did you know Deborah is leaving this morning?” she asked.

“Yes, she was just down, saying good-bye.”

“Why is she leaving?”

“I expect she is eager to get home to her mother,” Bea replied. She was too overwrought to go into the whole story.

Gillie heaped her plate from the sideboard, but she ate little. “What is the matter?” Bea asked.

“What did Tannie want last night when he talked to Rawl?”

“I don’t know,” Bea said, crossing her fingers.

“Rawl didn’t say anything to you last night before he left?”

“Not about the duke.”

“Tannie didn’t say anything about wanting to marry me, then?”

So that was it! Bea could not in good conscience encourage the girl. Tannie’s family might very well forbid the match when they learned of the duel. “Did Tannie say anything to you?” she parried. “You spent more time with him than anyone else.”

“All he talked about was Newmarket. Am I going to be allowed to go to London?”

“I don’t know.”

“I expect Deborah won’t allow it.”

After picking at her gammon and eggs for ten minutes, Gillie left the table. She looked precariously close to tears. And she hadn’t mentioned her morning ride, which was unusual. Was it possible the hoyden had finally tumbled into love with her duke?

At eight-thirty Deborah’s carriage arrived. Beatrice did not go to the door to see her guest off. She had had a fire lit in her study and sat gazing into the restive flames. If Southam was dead, she would put on her caps and become one of the righteous widows of Bath. She would not continue with her annual trips to London. She would give up any thought of marrying again. A marriage of convenience was not an agreeable thought, and loving someone was too painful. There was too much agony along with the joy of love. Better a peaceful, retired life, not caring too much for anyone.

At nine o’clock, there was a rattle of the door knocker, and Beatrice jumped up. Her heart hammered mercilessly in her breast. Oh, God! If he’s dead—she waited to hear whose voice sounded in the hallway and heard Lord Horatio asking for her. He had wounded Southam then, or killed him, and had come to explain.

She was galvanized into action, flying out the door like a harpy. “How dare you come here! Get out of my house. I don’t know you, from this day onward, Lord Horatio!”

He blinked in astonishment, and behind him she saw Southam advancing toward the door. Tannie accompanied him, propping him up. The jacket hanging over Southam’s shoulders had a bullet hole in it, to the left of and above the heart. His left arm was in a white sling, but other than that, he looked normal. His color was high, and he walked without trouble.

She looked from one to the other. “What happened?” she demanded. “Did you delope, Southam? Horatio, why did you shoot him? Southam, come in here and sit down. Let me look at that arm.” She spoke rapidly, without waiting for answers.

Southam looked along the hallway toward the door of the saloon. “Is Deborah about?”

“She’s gone home.”

“Ah!” He reached out and pulled off the sling. His shirt had a bullet hole matching that in his jacket. A smear of something resembling blood oozed around the bullet hole. “In that case, I am fine.” He shucked into his jacket, moving his left arm in a way that would have been impossible for a wounded man.

“I don’t understand,” Beatrice said, staring at this miraculous performance.

They all proceeded to the saloon, the gentlemen exchanging laughing looks as they went. “It is all a hum, you see,” Tannie exclaimed. Being the youngest, he could not control his glee. “We thought Miss Swann would still be here, and we had to convince her there was a duel.”

“Was there not a duel?” Beatrice asked, frowning at that bullet hole in Southam’s jacket—and there had been a blood smear on his shirt. It made her flesh crawl to think of it.

“Shots were fired,” Horatio said, chuckling. “I knocked a leaf off a branch, and Southam accidentally brought down a squirrel.”

“I didn’t even see it. It was hiding,” Southam explained.

“That’s where we got the blood,” Tannie said.

“Gruesome! So you deloped,” Beatrice said, trying to make sense of this farce.

“You didn’t think I’d kill your beau, now did you, lass?” Horatio teased. “It has taken you long enough to find one. I knew by the gleam in your eyes when you came to see me that you had settled on your man.”

“But you refused to withdraw your challenge.”

“How else were we to free this lad from his engagement? I did have a few bad moments when I read Southam’s letter. Man of my age indeed! That ‘pusillanimous’ did not sit well, either. But when Tannie explained the situation to me, I understood what Southam was up to.”

Beatrice looked at her beloved knowingly. “So that is why you sent Horatio that strange letter of apology.”

“I have apologized more properly to Sir Horatio since then. We agreed we could not have our families become the Montagues and Capulets, when the duke and Gillie are to marry.”

“If she’ll have me, that is to say,” the duke added humbly.

“I think she will have you,” Bea said. “She was out of reason cross this morning that you did not speak to her last night, Tannie. Shall I call her down?”

“If it ain’t too much trouble.”

“It begins to look as if I am de trop here, unless there is another lady in the house who is looking for a match,” Horatio said.

Southam looked at him with interest. “There is Miss Pittfield....”

“Is she a looker?” Horatio asked. He did not remain to find out, but took his leave. “I want the pair of you to marry very soon, you hear?” he said to Southam. “I am too old to be embroiled in duels and scandal broth. It keeps me busy just paying my debts. I have given Southam back his thousand pounds, Bea. Tannie has taken an ugly picture of his great-uncle to cover my Bournemouth losses. I am glad to be rid of it, I can tell you.” He waved and strode off to his waiting carriage.

Gillie was called and came flying downstairs, too young to conceal her eagerness. “Would you like to go for a drive?” Tannie asked, jiggling uneasily from foot to foot. “You’ll have to handle the ribbons yourself. And mind you don’t put us in the ditch again.”

“All right,” Gillie said, frowning. This was not what she had expected to hear.

“You’d best get used to it,” Tannie said. “I mean to say, we’ll want to take our curricle to Newmarket, and I shan’t be able to drive for a few weeks yet. You will like Newmarket, I think.”

“Don’t be silly. I cannot go to Newmarket with you.”

As usual, the duke spoke in his normal voice. “Could if we was married,” he said. Southam and Beatrice exchanged a disbelieving look at this offhand proposal.

“It sounds like fun. I’ll think about it,” Gillie said, and went for her bonnet.

Tannie smiled at Southam. “Said she’ll think about it. Didn’t turn me off, at least. I’ll offer her her own phaeton, and perhaps a new hunter. Well, she’ll have to have one, won’t she? Can’t be riding yours when she ain’t at Elmland.”

“That might very well turn the trick,” Southam said, smiling at this blatant bribery.

After Southam and Bea had waved the youngsters off, she suggested they go to her study. “I had a fire built in there. I needed some warmth while I was awaiting word of your execution. If you ever pull a stunt like this on me again, Rawl, I shall not be responsible for the outcome. I didn’t sleep a wink all night. I must look like the wrath of God.”

They stood before the leaping flames. He studied her upturned face. His own expression was dreamy, like a man besotted. “You look charming, as usual,” he assured her. “Perhaps just a trifle puffy under the eyes. And your hair has not seen a brush this morning, if I am not mistaken.” His hands brushed her hair back from her face, then cupped her head.

“Don’t forget to remind me of my charming crow’s-feet, and the chin not quite so firm as it once was.”

He cocked his head to one side and continued studying her minutely. It was only the love glowing in his eyes that saved him from abuse, for his words were far from flattering. “Yes, we are getting well past it, you and I, Cousin. We won’t want to waste a single day. I think—a special license and a quiet wedding here before we go on to Elmland. Or shall we indulge in a dart to the border and a wedding over the anvil, to put the cap on our degrading affair?”

“A special license, please. It is well you are spiriting me away from Bath, for my reputation here will not be worth a brass farthing, I promise you.”

“Nor in Alderton, either, when my ex-fiancée is through with us.”

“I trust your having a sister a duchess will return us to her good graces. No match for a royal princess, of course.”

“I am afraid we must not count on Deborah’s continued intimacy. At least I sincerely hope we may not.”

They moved to the sofa and sat, chatting, while he drew her head to his shoulder and stroked her hair. “How did you come to offer for her, Rawl?”

“I hadn’t met you yet. Again, I mean, for of course I saw you some years ago. I think I always loved you from afar.”

His fingers cupped her chin and turned her face up to meet his. “I rather thought you did,” she said frankly. “I was cross as a bear when you didn’t bring Gillie yourself but sent her with Miss Pittfield. I had a whole feast prepared, to seduce you.”

“If I had known that, I would have brought her.”

“And you an engaged man. You are depraved.”

“Yes, and I didn’t even know it till you showed me. As we are a pair of depraved beings ...” He pulled her onto his knee, where he began to execute new depravities.

“Rawl! What are you doing? You can’t do that!”

“We could if we was married,” he countered, and did it anyway.

Copyright © 1991 by Joan Smith

Originally published by Fawcett Crest (0449219488)

Electronically published in 2009 by Belgrave House/Regency Reads

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This is a work of fiction. All names in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental.