Read His Scandalous Kiss: Secrets at Thorncliff Manor: 6 Online
Authors: Sophie Barnes
Chuckling, Mary nodded. “It is true. Can you imagine? I daresay that must be quite a sight to behold.”
“As are you,” he said, releasing her hand. It cooled with the absence of his touch—a sensation she did not like in the least—but
they had reached the first floor landing and she knew as well as he that it was time for them to part.
“You flatter me.”
“Not nearly enough.” A smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Write your letter to Mr. Taylor, Mary, and I promise you that
everything will be all right in the end.”
After watching Mary disappear around a corner, Richard went in the opposite direction, returning to his own bedchamber shortly
after. Once inside and with the door closed, he expelled a deep breath, hoping that he would be right in the assurance he’d
given her.
His eyes dropped to the floor where another missive lay, recently delivered while he’d been out. Snatching it up, he tore
it open and read the information that his secretary had sent him. As always, it was brief and to the point:
The Earl of Rotridge is a very wealthy man. He does not need to marry for money. Indeed, there is little that he desires.
After some investigation, however, I have discovered that there is a property that he would like to acquire since it adjoins
his own. The land is presently owned by the Marquess of Richmond, his son being the Earl of Harrodsburg. Curiously, however,
the earl will not be inheriting this land since it is not entailed. Instead, the marquess has chosen to will it to his granddaughter,
Mary Bourneville.
Setting the letter aside, Richard crossed to the window and looked out, his jaw clenching with anger. Evidently, Rotridge
didn’t care about Mary, but to try and blackmail her into marriage so that he could increase the size of his property was
unconscionable.
His brother’s discernible knock sounded at the door. “Enter,” Richard said as he crossed to the sideboard and selected two
tumblers. Behind him, he heard the door open and close. “Brandy?” he asked.
“Thank you. I would appreciate that,” Spencer said. His footsteps were measured as he went to take a seat in one of the armchairs.
“I thought you should know that however unorthodox your courtship with Lady Mary has been, I am happy with your success, even
if you did risk ruining her.”
Snorting, Richard turned toward his brother with the two full tumblers in his hands. “You took a similar risk with Sarah,
according to what you have told me,” he said as he offered Spencer his drink.
“I will admit that she and I were alone a few times and that I was . . . tempted to take advantage of those situations. But
I refrained.”
Hesitating a moment, Richard lowered himself into the opposite chair. “I hope you are not implying that I have taken liberties.”
Spencer studied him for a long drawn out moment while Richard stared straight back at him. If his brother knew about the kisses
he’d shared with Mary a lengthy reprimand would surely follow. “You were always popular with the ladies, Richard, but you
were never a scoundrel. I have no reason to believe that your conduct with Lady Mary has been anything but gentlemanly.” Tilting
his glass in Richard’s direction, he took a sip of his drink.
Richard wouldn’t go so far as to call himself a gentleman where Mary was concerned. His thoughts about her had certainly been
of the more scandalous variety. Shifting, he followed his brother’s example and drank. “Then let us refrain from discussing
the matter any further.”
“Mama is thrilled,” Spencer added, ignoring Richard’s remark. “So are Papa and the rest of our siblings, by the way. There
is no doubt that Lady Mary will make an excellent addition to our family.” He paused for a second before saying, “It must
have taken a great deal of courage for you to reveal yourself to her.”
Leaning his head back, Richard looked up at the ceiling while the memory of that important moment when Mary had first laid
eyes on his face, passed before his eyes. “You have no idea.”
“You care for her a great deal.”
Lowering his gaze, Richard met Spencer’s. “Of course I do.”
Nodding, Spencer set his glass aside on the table that stood between them. “In that case, I would advise you to be completely
honest with her.”
The comment was so unexpected that Richard felt his entire body stiffen in response to it. Frowning, he leaned forward. “What
are you saying?”
“That I think there may be more than one reason for your prolonged absence from Society and that your appearance is not entirely
to blame.”
Gritting his teeth, Richard felt his pulse rise. “Then you would be wrong, Spencer.”
“And yet, it took only a couple of weeks for you to abandon five years of solitary confinement for the sake of a woman.” Spencer
shook his head. “I may not understand why, but I know that there must have been more to it than Lady Mary’s compelling personality
to sway such resolve.”
“I love her.”
“Not when you first laid eyes on her. What happened, Richard? What caused you to realize that the life you have always dreamed
of could finally be yours? None of my assurances in that regard seemed to have made a difference. Neither did Sarah’s.”
Looking askance, Richard stared into the empty fireplace. His hand tightened around his glass. “Suffice it to say that I recently
completed a business transaction that has given me some peace of mind.”
Spencer grunted. “Good. You deserve some peace of mind after all that you have suffered. Still, you ought to tell Lady Mary
about it.”
“It is in the past now. I would like for it to remain there so that I may move forward with my life.” For five long years
his very existence had depended on getting revenge. He’d finally accomplished that goal and was happy to have found a more
positive purpose.
A long moment of silence followed. Eventually Spencer said, “Secrets generally have a way of surfacing, Richard. Just be sure
that if you choose to keep this one to yourself, that Lady Mary will not think less of you for it, or worse, be hurt by it
if she happens to find out what it is. In my experience, people do eventually discover the things that you would most like
to keep from them.”
“Thank you, Spencer,” Richard told him grimly. “I shall endeavor to keep that in mind.” But it was an empty promise. Richard
would never be able to tell Mary about the vengeance he’d taken on the man who’d betrayed him. She was too innocent and kind
to understand. If she were to discover the truth, her opinion of him would undoubtedly be altered, and for what? What did
it matter when he had every intention of being the man whom she thought him to be from now on? One thing was certain. He could
not possibly risk losing her—not when she was everything that he had ever dreamed of.
The Thorncliff Terrace, two days later
Seated at the edge of a long row of seats beside Richard, Mary glanced around at the crowd of assembled spectators before
returning her attention to the small stage that had been set up in front of them. “Do you see Rotridge anywhere?” she asked
as she nervously wafted her fan back and forth.
“Yes,” Richard murmured. “He is sitting on the last row.”
Sucking in a breath, Mary tried to calm her nerves while the orchestra tuned their instruments in preparation for the upcoming
performance. She glanced around again. Where was her aunt? She should have been there by now. “This is not going to work,”
she heard herself say.
A warm hand settled over hers. “Of course it will,” Richard assured her. “Look, here comes your aunt now. Are you ready?”
Mary shook her head. “No, but what choice do I have?”
She started to pull her hand away from his, but he held on fast. “Rest assured that no matter what happens this evening, I
will stand by your side. You have my word on that.”
Feeling a little lighter than before, Mary rose to greet her aunt. “Good evening,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
“I was afraid that you might not make it on time.”
Lady Foxworth chuckled. “And forego a performance by my favorite soprano? I think not, my dear, though I must say that the
air this evening is a little bit chillier than I had expected.”
“Would you like your shawl? I would be happy to fetch it for you.”
“Thank you, Mary. I would appreciate that as long as Mr. Heartly has no issue with me keeping his company until you return.”
Having risen as well, Richard gestured toward the seat that Mary had just vacated. “It would be an honor,” he said. Winking
at Mary, he mouthed the words, “Good luck,” before offering Lady Foxworth his complete attention.
Starting toward the French doors that would take her back inside Thorncliff, Mary cast a glance in Rotridge’s direction. He
was looking straight at her with one raised eyebrow and a supremely annoying smirk upon his face. Straightening her spine,
she inclined her head in greeting before continuing past him, praying that she would be the one to get the better of him this
evening and not the other way around.
Returning to her bedchamber, she was met by Amy. “Are you ready, my lady?” she asked.
A nervous sound erupted from Mary’s chest. “Mr. Heartly just asked me the exact same thing.”
“And what did you tell him?” Retrieving a cloak from the wardrobe, Amy handed it to Mary.
“That I will never be ready for something like this.”
“Consider it an adventure.”
Mary snorted. “One that could ruin my reputation forever if it happens to go wrong.”
Amy gave her a faint smile. “That risk has always existed, my lady—ever since you began performing as Miss Cavalani.”
“I know,” Mary agreed. “Shall we proceed with the performance then and let the cards fall where they may?”
Tying her cloak in place and raising the hood, Mary cracked open the door and peeked out into the hallway. “All clear,” she
whispered to Amy as they headed out together.
Reaching the stairwell that she’d used so often for her rendezvous with Richard, Mary descended toward the antechamber while
Amy followed behind. “This way,” she said as she opened the door and snuck out into the dark garden beyond. A soft breeze
tugged at the hem of her gown as she and Amy made their way along the graveled path toward the terrace. From the lake came
the occasional sound of frogs croaking, though it was soon drowned out by the chatter of voices rising from the many guests
who’d gathered to watch Lucia Cavalani perform.
Certain that no one could see them arrive, they ascended the steps leading up onto the terrace, arriving directly behind the
stage’s thick velvet curtains. A backdrop with only a narrow opening on one side boxed them in, shielding them from anyone
who might happen to approach from the garden. “You look wonderful,” Mary told Amy as she took in her appearance. “Thank you
for helping me with this.”
“After all that you have done for me, my lady, it is the least that I can do.”
With that said, Amy parted the curtains just enough for her to step up onto the stage while Mary stood back, hidden from sight.
A hush immediately descended over the terrace as everyone noted the arrival of the finest opera singer in England. Mary’s
heart beat rapidly in her chest, slowing only in response to the first fluid notes of music played by violins. Waiting for
her cue, Mary sent up a silent prayer before starting to sing, her voice like a ribbon of silk floating through the night
sky. There were five songs in total and as she rounded off the last one with a perfect vibrato, she felt the tension possessing
her for the past two days begin to subside.
A brief second of silence passed after the final note had been sung, and then, a cacophony of applause. It was loud and vibrant—deafening
even. But rather than stay and listen to it as she usually did, Mary left that task to Amy while she herself disappeared back
into the garden.
“Magnificent,” Lady Foxworth said over the loud clapping that filled the air after Lucia Cavalani’s performance.
Richard nodded as he watched the famous singer curtsy while Lady Duncaster made her way toward the stage with a lovely bouquet
of roses. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked toward the French doors leading back inside the house, and then toward the
spot where Rotridge was now standing. Catching Richard’s eyes, the earl narrowed his gaze before inclining his head in silent
greeting. A menacing smile played upon his lips, tugging at the corners of his mouth until, with a jerk of his head, he turned
away, pushing past the people who’d been sitting next to him. “Stop,” he said, his voice slicing through the fading applause
and demanding immediate silence.
Lady Duncaster halted and turned toward him, her eyebrows arched in question. “Yes?”
With heels clicking sharply against the stone-slab tiles, Rotridge made his way toward her. “While I was away in London, I
made a wager in White’s betting book.” His eyes surveyed the guests as he progressed toward the spot where Lady Duncaster
was standing. “It is a wager that can only be settled by Miss Cavalani herself.”
“How intriguing,” Lady Duncaster said as she looked toward the woman still standing on the stage. Her face was painted white,
her lips a bright shade of red, and her eyes outlined with black kohl. The gown she wore was Elizabethan in style. On her
head she wore an elaborate wig embellished with crystal beads.
“I could not agree more,” Rotridge said, “for you see, it is a matter of Miss Cavalani’s actual identity.”
A murmur rose from the crowd. Richard squared his shoulders in expectation of what would undoubtedly happen next.
“Do you not find it strange that the most celebrated opera singer in England has never been seen by anyone, except for on
the stage? One would think that she would have acquired a protector by now—that many young gentlemen would have made any number
of desirable offers in order to claim her.”
Clenching his fists, Richard forced himself not to react to Rotridge’s statement. As far as everyone knew, he wasn’t speaking
of Mary, but of Lucia. And yet, Richard felt the insult like a punch to the stomach when Rotridge looked in his direction
and said, “Welcome back into our midst, Mr. Heartly.”
Tightening his jaw, Richard muttered his thanks for the sake of those present. Had he been alone with Rotridge however . . .
A staying hand touched his arm. “Calm yourself,” Lady Foxworth murmured. “You must not allow him to rile you.”
“As for Miss Cavalani,” Rotridge continued in a measured tone that seemed to capture everyone’s attention with the promise
of revealing a marvelous secret, “I would like to propose that she is not of Italian descent or that she is even a foreigner,
for that matter. Indeed, I propose that she is not even of lowly birth, but a peeress in disguise.”
The gasp that rose from the crowd was immediate. “Outrageous,” some said. “Impossible,” others said.
Rotridge held up his hand to silence them. “There is only one way for us to discover the truth, and that is to ask for Miss Cavalani
to remove her wig and face paint.”
“Have you no shame?” Lady Duncaster asked.
Rotridge inclined his head. “Unfortunately I have a great deal of money at stake, for you see, I have even gone so far as
to name the lady whom I suspect Miss Cavalani to be.” Responding to the horrified look on Lucia’s face, he allowed himself
a victorious grin. “Let us dispense with the pretense. It is time for you to reveal yourself,
Lady Mary
.”
Murmurs snaked their way through the onlookers. Lucia took a step back and shook her head. She looked to Lady Duncaster with
wide imploring eyes.
“This is preposterous,” Richard said, voicing his opinion.
“Why?” Rotridge asked. “Because she happens to be your fiancée? Congratulations, by the way. I have no doubt that the two
of you will be very happy together. After all, you do share a fondness for masquerades, do you not?”
“I ought to challenge you for your insolence,” Richard said.
“You may do so after I have proven to everyone that the woman standing on that stage is none other than Mary Bourneville.”
“You are making a grave mistake, Rotridge. One that is presently damaging both Miss Cavalani’s reputation and Lady Mary’s
as well.”
“Then perhaps you would care to explain Lady Mary’s absence this evening?”
All eyes turned on Richard. He became acutely aware of his family’s pained expressions but chose to ignore them. Somehow,
he had to remain focused. He could not allow for anyone to suspect that Rotridge might be right. “She went to collect a shawl
for her aunt.”
“An hour ago?” Rotridge’s voice was mocking now. “Are you really so naïve that you would think I might believe that?”
“Stop it!” The order was spoken by Lucia. All eyes turned toward the stage. “His lordship is correct in one regard. I am not
a foreigner. Cavalani is a stage name.”
“I knew it,” Rotridge yelled.
“But I am not of noble birth,” Lucia added, “and I am not Mary Bourneville.”
Calculated fury seemed to seep from Rotridge’s eyes. “Yes you are!” Striding past Lady Duncaster, he climbed onto the stage,
his superior height dwarfing Lucia’s more delicate frame. Leaning away from him she looked as though she wished to flee, but
her large skirt made movement difficult and before she could go anywhere, Rotridge’s fingers were in her hair, dislodging
the wig until a mass of golden locks emerged.
A collective gasp filled the air as everyone stared at the woman before them.
“Are you quite finished?” Lady Duncaster asked as she too stepped onto the stage and snatched the wig away from Rotridge’s
hand.
“I . . .” He stared at Lucia, then at the wig, and then at Lucia once more. “I do not understand. You were supposed to be—”
“Me?” Mary asked. Having returned to the terrace only moments earlier, she was standing between Richard and her aunt. “I daresay
that is absurd.”
“But I overheard your conversation with Mr. Heartly,” Rotridge said, his expression a muddled mixture of incomprehension and
rapid thinking, “you clearly said that—”
“How much money did you risk on this calculated attempt to ruin Lady Mary’s reputation?” Richard asked, deliberately cutting
Rotridge off.
Swiveling his head in Richard’s direction, Rotridge narrowed his eyes before stepping down from the stage and striding toward
him. “
You
did this.”
“I cannot imagine what you might be referring to,” Richard spoke calmly, “but in my opinion, only the worst sort of scoundrel
would stoop so low as to tarnish a lady’s standing out of spite. You were determined to win her hand in marriage for one reason
alone—so you can acquire the land that she will eventually inherit from her grandfather. But she refused. Not even your attempts
at blackmail could sway her.”
A low murmur snaked its way around the terrace, the blunt expression on everyone’s faces conveying their disapproval.
“Is this true, Lord Rotridge?” Lady Duncaster asked.
“That land was supposed to be mine,” Rotridge snapped, one second before lunging toward Richard.
Ducking, Richard managed to avoid the fist that was meant for his face, countering with a blow of his own instead. It landed
solidly in Rotridge’s stomach, producing a pitiful yelp from the earl as he doubled over in pain.
“Enough,” Lady Duncaster said, her sharp tone breaking the men apart. Piercing blue eyes settled on Rotridge who was gasping
for breath a small distance from where Richard was standing. “Your behavior this evening has been quite uncivil. Clearly you
are mistaken in your hypothesis regarding Miss Cavalini’s identity, but rather than take it like a man, you choose to attack
one of my guests instead. Now, if I may offer a piece of advice to you, apologize to Miss Cavalani and to Lady Mary right
this second before you make matters worse.”
Stiffly, Rotridge inclined his head. “Forgive me.” His eyes sought Mary and then Amy.
“Good,” Lady Duncaster said. “You may leave now.”
“I beg your pardon?” Rotridge asked sounding confused.
“If you think that I will allow you to remain here after what you have just done, then you are mistaken. I expect to find
you gone within the hour. The footmen will escort you to your room and help you pack.”
Flattening his mouth into a thin line, Rotridge paused for a second before turning away and marching back inside the house
without another word while two footmen followed in his wake.
“Do you think he will try to bother us again?” Mary asked Richard as she watched Lady Duncaster hand over the large bouquet
of roses to Amy and congratulate her on her performance.
“No. In fact, I wager he will have quit Thorncliff by the time we return inside. I doubt he will want to face either one of
us after this, or anyone else for that matter.”
Deciding that he was probably right, Mary allowed herself a sigh of relief. “I hope so.” A cool summer breeze whispered across
her skin. “Thank you once again for discovering Rotridge’s motivation. I had no idea that Grandpapa intends to leave so much
land to me. He never said a word about it.”