In Pursuit of a Scandalous Lady (4 page)

Lady Parkhurst smiled. “I like you, Miss Leland.” She glanced at her son. “Cheeky, isn't she?”

He only grunted.

His mother gave a dramatic sigh. “Hardly an appropriate response, Parkhurst. I was giving you a chance to compliment a young lady.”

Rebecca hid a smile, although she knew her eyes must be alight with it.

“I believe I am old enough to know how to do so,” he answered dryly.

To Rebecca she said, “Forgive him. He has decided his brothers need his careful tending, and is not tending to himself.”

“It sounds like he's a caring brother,” Rebecca said.

“But he has a duty to the earldom, as well.”

Lord Parkhurst let out a breath. “Enough,” he said mildly. “Miss Leland well understands a peer's duty. Madingley is her cousin.”

“What a fine family you have,” Lady Parkhurst said.

She spoke a little too loudly, as if emphasizing that fact for her son. Rebecca had to bite her lip to keep from laughing at him. But she'd drawn his attention to her mouth, and now it felt decidedly strange to continue talking to his mother.

“Lady Parkhurst, allow me to boldly offer my assistance. I assume you'd like your son to dance?”

The earl narrowed his eyes, but his mother looked delighted.

“Miss Leland, you are a smart girl. Do take good care of him.”

She left them alone as the orchestra struck up a waltz.

Lord Parkhurst stared down at her, heavy brows lowered.

She stared back, smiling, so immensely pleased with herself. “I chased your mother away. Surely that makes you happy.”

“No, you made
her
happy, by encouraging her interest in my relationships with marriageable women.”

“You're an earl; that won't go away, not with any mama in Society. And we both know you are not interested in marrying someone like me,” she challenged. “I have too few morals—or so you've implied.”

Then he surprised her by taking her hand, and sliding his other around her ribs. “Let's see how a scandalous woman dances.”

And he swept her off.

Her breath left her; her very will was overpowered. He was so big, so powerful, that he guided her about like a doll, dipping and swaying, steering her between other, slower couples. She knew too many people were watching, including all of her family, and his. She should have been angry at not being in control—

But she wasn't. She felt giddy and breathless, yet
could hardly let him see how he affected her. Teasing him was her only defense.

“Lord Parkhurst, you'd best be careful. You may not be interested in marrying me, but we've both been seen talking to each other's mother. To the
ton,
we're practically engaged.”

He only gave another grunt, and took her through a particularly tight turn. To her surprise, his thigh dipped between hers, so gracefully she thought she'd imagined it. Her face was flushed, and she found herself looking into his chest rather than up at his face. Then he did it again, deliberately, provocatively.

Her gaze flew to his. His smile was slow in forming, his eyes hooded, full of amusement and awareness. He knew what he did to her. It was unfair that gentlemen were allowed so much more experience than ladies. It put her at a distinct disadvantage. All she had to counter him were her wits.

J
ulian knew that everything he did to Rebecca, every touch, would rebound back on himself. He accepted the risk since it would help him toward the eventual goal. She simply made it so easy to taunt her, to tease a response. She had a tart tongue and a witty, intelligent mind.

Not to mention the lovely body he held so near to his. She was wearing blue silk, and it seemed to shimmer over her skin like sunlit water. He enjoyed watching her face when he crossed the proper boundaries, allowing his legs to glide between hers, everything hidden within the flowing fabric of her skirts.

He'd had to do
something
to counter her affect on him, or find himself gaping down her bodice mindlessly, like a boy who'd never been to a ball—like his brothers, he thought with distaste.

As if she read his mind, she said, “I overheard your brothers talking with their friends about the painting.”

Her tone had cooled noticeably.

“They are rather young for you to be showing them such a thing,” she continued.

“Not proud of yourself?”

“You know that is not what I'm saying. That painting wasn't meant to be there.”

“I did not personally display the painting for them, but they are members of the club. You cannot expect that they would miss such a thing. And yes, they're young, but I thought they would make more appropriate friendships there, perhaps hear about the benefits of an education. I have the tuition money; they need to go.” He frowned down at her. “But instead of making friends, they've seen you—your painting anyway. Or one of your female relatives.”

“Disbelieving me already?” she replied.

“No,” he said, looking down at her intensely as he whirled her about the floor. “You're my choice, after all, and how can I dispute my instincts?” He let his hand slide lower down her back, feeling the faint bumps of her spine, then the curve of her lower back, strangely erotic in such a public place. He splayed his hand, pulling her even closer, so that her breasts brushed his ribs. “My instincts have never failed me. You feel like the painting looks,” he said, his voice husky.

Her eyes widened, and she missed a step, but he easily held her up. She didn't even try to escape, as if she knew that he wouldn't release her.

“Do your sister and cousin dance as well you do?” he
asked, leaning down to speak into her ear.

He felt her stiffen and knew she understood his threat. She would not be the only one he talked to in his quest to discover the truth.

If only he could directly ask about the diamond. But she wasn't wearing it, and if he brought it up, he might alert her that something more was going on than a drunken wager. He couldn't risk her speaking to someone in her family who might know more about the history of the jewel—or might have been involved in the theft.

The waltz ended much too quickly, and after a brief curtsy, she left him without allowing him to escort her off the ballroom floor. He watched her go, knowing that others had seen her rudeness. He didn't care—although their mothers might. He almost smiled.

She was more than capable of sparring with him, but it was obvious she didn't like the thought of him doing the same with her sister and cousin.

 

Late that night while her maid helped her undress, Rebecca thought again of the earl's threat to go after her sister and cousin. She loved Susanna and Elizabeth dearly, but they had not weathered the same childhood storms she had, and she worried that their strength would easily wear down.

At the ball, both Peter and Leo had requested a dance of their chosen targets. Elizabeth acquiesced, while Su
sanna preferred not to dance. So Leo had doted on her, even though she'd put on her spectacles like a shield.

Lord Parkhurst had watched them all, not bothering to hide his amusement as he stared with open challenge at Rebecca.

He thought he would win. And this was only the first evening!

After the maid had gone, Susanna dragged in a yawning Elizabeth, who promptly sank down on the four-poster bed and curled up among the pillows.

“You'll both hear my plan now,” Susanna said firmly.

Rebecca picked up her brush and started on her hair. “Of course. Tell us everything.”

“We cannot stay in London and let those three men pick us apart one by one, looking for weaknesses, combining their information.”

Elizabeth sat back up, her brow furrowed. “But they're trying to best each other.”

“And us. And I'm beginning to think that defeating us is more appealing than defeating each other.”

Rebecca smiled at Elizabeth. “She assumes that because she knows what's beneath a man's skin, she knows how he thinks.”

Susanna smiled at their age-old debate. “I didn't say that. But I think the best way we can protect this secret is to go our separate ways, not make it so easy for them to question us one by one.”

“Separate ways?” Rebecca echoed, frowning.

“Eventually one of us will make a mistake. I think we reduce the risk of that if we don't give them access to all of us.”

“But it's like…leaving the game,” Rebecca finished, disappointment washing through her.

But although she protested, inside she knew that her sister was right, that the men would somehow use them against each other. Lord Parkhurst had openly claimed his intent to do so.

“No, it's like taking the game elsewhere,” Susanna said, smiling slowly. “If they choose not to follow, then we win, don't you see?”

“I can't leave,” Elizabeth said slowly. “My mother has not been feeling well, and I need to be with her.”

“That's fine,” Susanna insisted. “We mustn't go together anyway. I've been invited to a house party. I'll attend.”

“Mother mentioned it,” Rebecca said doubtfully. “She'll insist I attend, too.”

“Not if you're going to visit Great-aunt Rianette.”

The brush froze in Rebecca's hair as she frowned at her sister. “I beg your pardon?”

“She's been asking for one of us to visit, and Mama has been feeling guilty that we've been too busy. Now she won't have to feel guilty anymore,” she concluded in triumph.

Wide-eyed, Elizabeth hugged a pillow to her lower face, as if hiding a grin.

Rebecca rounded on her sister. “You get to attend a party, and I visit an elderly relative—in the remote
Lake District,
of all places?”

Susanna winced and shrugged. “Can you think of a better way to separate? You saw how the men were. If you stay in London, they'll use you and Elizabeth against each other. Don't you see—Lord Parkhurst will most likely follow you. Isn't that what you want, the chance to do something different?”

Rebecca opened her mouth…then slowly closed it. “Perhaps he wouldn't,” she began slowly.

“Oh, he will,” Elizabeth insisted. “I saw him watching you.” Her eyes scrunched as she tried not to laugh. “And you were watching him.”

“I—I had to!” Rebecca blustered. “It's not what you think. It's part of the challenge, the adventure.”

Susanna took her hand and gave a slow smile, saying softly, “Then let us change the rules and surprise them.”

“But Great-aunt Rianette?”

“She'll be quite the challenge for Lord Parkhurst.”

They stared at each other and then burst out laughing.

“I'll buy you and your maid a train ticket in the morning, and you can leave in the late afternoon,” Susanna
said, wiping her eyes. “I'll leave it on your dressing table. You'll still have time to attend Lady Thurlow's reception with me. Have Beatrice pack your trunk and send it to the railway station. If you'd like, I'll even speak to Mama for you.”

“You really want this,” Rebecca said, eyeing her sister. “Do you want Mr. Wade to follow you?”

“If he follows, it's because I'm simply a different sort of challenge for him. I don't find him terribly amusing, and I'm certain that he's flirted with ladies who are much more accomplished at it than I. He will tire of me and the game quickly.”

“Then you don't know men,” Rebecca warned her. She looked at her sister and her cousin in turn. “Should I wish us all good luck, even though we won't need it?”

They held each other's hands for a moment, smiling.

 

Early the next afternoon, Julian leaned against the wall in Lady Thurlow's drawing room, waiting for Rebecca to arrive. He'd already been to Madingley House, and managed to discover from a stableboy that the ducal carriage would be going to the home of the elderly earl of Banstead. It was easy enough to change his mind and attend, and Lady Thurlow, the earl's daughter-in-law, had seemed surprised and pleased to see him.

He really had no idea that the ladies of Society had
forgotten the scandals of the past. His mother had tried to tell him of course, but since he intended to find a suitable wife on his own accord, he'd avoided the matchmaking mamas as much as possible.

He idly wondered which of the women in attendance he'd been considering for marriage. Not that he'd recognize any of them. Their looks and comportment were not nearly so important as their family backgrounds and their temperaments. He'd already met many of their fathers, of course, and smoothly persuaded the men to discuss their daughters in a frank manner. Occasionally he rearranged his list of eligible prospects as he gathered more information. He didn't understand the dilemma of other men where choosing a wife was concerned. The selection was practically mathematical.

It didn't take him long to realize why Lady Thurlow was so surprised at his attendance that afternoon. This was not a regular luncheon, but a reception to discuss the arts. There were women taking turns playing the piano and singing, groups of people discussing the paintings on the walls, even an easel set up in one corner with clusters of budding artists.

He felt very out of place, for this regularly held event was obviously well used by young men blatantly looking for a wife, something he was always very careful not to advertise. And he was by far the most titled man here. When he saw his brothers arrive, they scowled at him as if he might interfere with whatever flirtation
they had planned for the afternoon. He felt…old. But then he'd felt like their parent since he was eighteen.

He was hardly acting as an established businessman and earl. He knew his businesses and properties could run without him, but he'd neglected meetings and paperwork these last few days. He told himself it wasn't just about the foolish wager but about the stolen diamond, and family honor.

But it was about Rebecca Leland, too, he realized, straightening away from the wall when he saw her enter at last. She stood in the hall, speaking animatedly to Lady Thurlow while her sister Susanna was called away to the group by the easel.

Julian simply waited, his gaze on Rebecca. More than one person approached him, then thought better of it. He almost followed Susanna for an interrogation, then realized he'd be irritating her sister. Why did he enjoy the prospect of that so much? Was it the fire in Rebecca's eyes, the verbal challenges between them? He told himself he needed to win her trust, not irritate her. The wager meant nothing compared to the ultimate prize of discovering what had happened to the Scandalous Lady after all these years.

And then Rebecca saw him, and he felt the power of the moment hold him still. She gave him a wicked smile, and he nodded in return. Her dark hair gleamed in the afternoon light, and she wore a dress as yellow as a sunbeam.

So when had he bothered to notice a dress unless it was to divest a woman of it?

But not usually an unmarried miss of the
ton.
But that's what he wanted to do to her, lay her delicate body across his big bed and then—

And then she was coming toward him, direct as always, and he was relieved to have his fantasies interrupted. He had to keep his mind focused, more so with her than any other woman of his acquaintance.

Her scent of jasmine enveloped him as she came to a stop. He blinked at her.

She smiled. “Lord Parkhurst, how unusual to meet you at a reception for the arts.”

He leaned a shoulder against the wall. “I like the arts.”

She smirked, but only said, “It is my sister's passion. She is a brilliant artist.”

“Does she have paintings for sale? I'm sure she'd speak to me in depth if I purchased some.”

Rebecca tsked as she shook her head. “Bribery will not work, my lord. She makes gifts of her art, and she assists our father.”

“Your father is a professor…” he began, faintly confused.

She looked away, and he realized that she regretted being so free with information.

Then she took a deep breath. “He lectures and researches on the topic of anatomy.”

“Does she take notes for him? Perhaps transcribe his work?”

Rebecca tilted her chin so their eyes could meet. “She sketches.”

“What does she—ah,” he said with sudden understanding and growing interest. “She sketches
his work.
His dissections?”

She nodded. “It is not common knowledge, my lord. I only tell you so that you will not pursue such a subject with her. She is sensitive to the fact that our mother is mortified by what she's done, seen the human form so completely—”

“Nude?” he interrupted, glancing leisurely down her body. He enjoyed her blushes, and she didn't disappoint. He didn't linger on his thoughts of the painting of course, for his trousers would soon be too tight. Not that he didn't battle that regardless whenever she was around, as if he were a schoolboy again.

“Not quite the same thing as my painting at the club,” she said dryly. “I stayed away from the laboratory. It was rather…messy.”

“I can imagine.” Feeling a prickling of awareness, Julian glanced up to see his brothers frowning at him. He hadn't told them he was attending, and he certainly didn't want them to know anything about his current plans. Without asking, he took Rebecca's arm. “Since you're not the artist of the family, care to walk the gardens with me?”