Lady Scandal (5 page)

Others were dependent upon her.

Merely because her melting insides craved for him to be the one, she couldn’t hide from the reality that his last response didn’t bode well. His lack of estate management experience should’ve been the red flag that waved him on his way. But she couldn’t turn loose, not yet. Not of him, nor of her hopes.

Because on so many levels, Mr. Tanner seemed
exactly
right. Time and again, his at turns baffling and belligerent responses proved he was the first candidate to appeal to her in all areas she’d set forth:

~ cordiality to Wivy and Jacks (An indication, she believed, of how he might treat tenants, children…and wife.);

~ integrity and candor (She allowed his responses up to this point indicated both. If they also indicated an unwillingness to be led by a ring through his nose, all the better. She needed a man who wasn’t afraid to stand up to those who
thought
they were better than everyone else.);

~ a willingness to educate females (He’d managed to supply this perfect response without once smirking, earning her undying devotion early on.);

~ a disinclination to pander to whining whelps (She’d added this requirement just last week.);

~ interest and knowledge of estate matters (Grasping at straws, she reasoned Mr. Tanner’s inexperience in this area was offset by his abundance of honesty.);

~ and
not
most important of all, her mind insisted, but as though staging a mutiny, her body persisted upon disagreeing, it was paramount she found him attractive. Visually riveting. (Which she most assuredly did!).

If Juliet was to barter her future by willingly shackling herself to another man, then, sure as tits trilled and cocks crowed, she wanted to
want
him. With everything in her.

The low, constant pressure building deep in her abdomen and flittering about her chest told her she wanted Mr. Tanner.

At least clothed, she did.

And that gave her pause. Attired, despite his advanced years, Lord Letheridge had cut a tolerable figure. But once the padded jacket was removed, the contoured stockings stripped, and his sunken chest and pasty skin revealed, his bare form had repulsed her every bit as much as his repugnant personality.

Therefore, Juliet had two vital qualities to ascertain before deciding whether Mr. Tanner was the spouse she sought: how he appeared
unclothed
and how he conducted himself as a lover.

The idea of Mr. Tanner, naked and acting the lover
toward
her? It was more than enough for Juliet to discard all pretense of decorum and steer the interview in the naughty direction she hoped it might take. She swallowed past the knot of nervous excitement the torrid thought brought forth.

“Wivy, you must leave,” she demanded as quietly as she dared. “
Please heed me on this.
” Then louder, “Olivia, do please tell the remaining gentleman how very appreciative I am he expended himself to such a degree but that I won’t be able to see him today.” Poor fellow, she really should compensate him for his time, but funds were so very low. Cook did make a thumping good scone however. (When they weren’t out of sugar, that was.) “I’m afraid I can’t reimburse his travel expenses, but if you would see he’s served refreshments before he leaves?

“Oh!” Goodness, she’d nearly forgotten her other area of evaluation, not having many occasions to administer it. “And tell Jacks he may bring in the refreshment tray at his convenience.”

Wivy shot her an inscrutable look and muttered, “I like this one but I certainly hope you know what you’re doing.” Then she quit the room, skirting around Mr. Tanner but only
after
imparting something to him Juliet couldn’t make out.

Hmm. Now what was Wivy about? No matter. Juliet had just gained her goal: time alone with applicant twenty-four. A hitch to her breathing told her she hadn’t been this excited in years.

Juliet smiled. But then she frowned. Her lower half was decidedly uncomfortable. She shifted on her hard chair, attempted to cross her legs—to squeeze out the lingering ache that’d settled there—to no avail. The ache persisted. “Well, now…it’s just you and I, Mr. Tanner.” She shifted again and tried not to sound so out of breath. “Shall we continue?”

He brought one well-muscled leg forward then stopped. “Not until you tell me how I fare. Talking to an invisible Lady Scandal—”

“Lady Scandal? That’s what they’re calling me?” Of a certainty,
scandalous
fit how she felt, staring waist-high at his flexing thighs and…um,
things
centered above and between.

“Aye, but at being denied your actual acquaintance, I’m feeling the bamboozled dupe, thinking I’m here on a sleeveless errand and nothing more.”

When he looked back toward the door, as if contemplating escape, Juliet stammered, “Nay! I’m not trifling with you! To be sure, I find you intrepid and impudent and a host of other things I’m too much a lady to mention.”

“That bad, eh?”

“That good, I fear.”

After emerging into the hallway and instructing a curious Jacks to fetch the tray, Olivia pulled the door shut behind her and turned to look at it, surprise making her reluctant to release the tarnished knob.

Well. That had been unexpected. Leave her charge and bosom friend alone with a truthful thief? And a formidable, scowling specimen to boot.

Peeling paint marked the stout door she hesitated to move from, the chipped antique white antiqued more by time than design. After it had collapsed off its hinges their first week in residence, Jacks and their remaining stable boy (who needed more than one when they no longer had any horseflesh that required stabling?) had rehung it to its current non-listing exactness.

The exchange of indistinct murmurs reached her from the depths of the sitting room, one deep and just a shade from belligerent. The other carefree. Joyous almost.

Recalling his sincere look, and the quickly masked vulnerability if she wasn’t mistaken, in Mr. Tanner’s gaze just before she acquiesced and quit the room convinced Olivia that Juliet was in no danger. Unlike that lout they’d interviewed just prior, the one who’d exhibited no ability to laugh at anything, much less at himself, she sensed Mr. Tanner possessed enough self-assurance and inherent composure that nothing unduly untoward would occur.

Pah. Applicant twenty-three. To resort to violence and all because the ruffian took exception to being “duped by two bitches” or so he’d claimed when Juliet had the misfortune to sneeze, giving them both away. Crude churl! Thinking he could buy his way into respectability, as though money answered everything. Give her a man with a ready smile and a good appreciation of the absurd, a hard worker not afraid to get his hands dirty and able to laugh in the process. She’d take that over one with sovereigns to spare any day.

Actually most days of late, Olivia would be grateful if only a man would look at her and really see her. It’d been a long, long time since a fellow had paid attention her direction with something akin to interest lighting his eyes. Companions were paid (or not paid, in her particular case) to blend into the background. To become invisible. Something she’d perhaps accomplished with too much zeal?

She thought of the way Mr. Tanner had gazed at the screen. With hope. And determination.

And that was before he’d ever clapped his peepers on the fair Lady Juliet. Aye, her mistress was in good hands at the moment. Safe, strong hands, if she didn’t miss her guess, and Olivia had always considered herself a fair judge of character.

With a decisive nod, she steeled her resolve and abandoned her station. Duty called.

Tell the final applicant he wasn’t needed? It was a task she dreaded. To be cast last and now discarded without an audience? What man would take kindly to such news?

“Oh, bother it, Wivy!” Unconsciously, she used Juliet’s pet name. Perhaps in an attempt to shore up her own shaky confidence? Lord knew sweet Juliet didn’t lack in the courage department.

Determined to see the onerous task over and quickly, Olivia swept down the long hallway, cringing when a bit of wall plaster dusted her dress when Jacks approached, his arms laden with refreshments, and she stepped aside.

“This bodes well, do ye think?” Jacks halted to ask.

“What? That she wanted to be alone with Mr. Tanner? Aye, I do. Tell me, Jacks, is our remaining guest still situated in the study?”

Jacks gave a brief shake of his head. “Asked if ’e could stretch ’is legs a bit when I came for the Tanner gent. Believe ’e’s out back, walkin’ the garden fer a spell.”

“Very well. Carry on.”

“You’ll see to ’im then?”

See him off, he meant? “That I will.”

Olivia proceeded toward the stairs, thinking, and not for the first time, how this old, neglected home could shine if only someone would devote some tender love and thoughtful care to it.
Much like yourself?

And where had that come from? Juliet was the one who’d instigated the Marriage Scheme. Olivia just wanted the whole ordeal over and her friend happily settled.

At least, that’s what she continually told herself. On-the-shelf companions weren’t considered marriage material. Far from it. And the sooner she quit contemplating otherwise, the more content she’d likely be.

Upon reaching the landing, she mentally chanted
three, eleven
and
seventeen
. Three, eleven, seventeen. Those were the ricketiest treads, the ones they all took pains to avoid. Beneath the board nailed over it, tread four had a boot-sized hole gouged in the baluster side, compliments of Jacks the day upon their arrival.

But the flocked amaranthus paper lining the opposite wall had an aged grace Olivia found charming. Truth be told, despite its sadly neglected air and propensity toward rot (thanks she was sure to the splintered roof tiles and resulting leaks) Olivia found the old house charming.

Especially the gardens.

Not nearly as overgrown as one might expect given the state of the structure they surrounded, the grounds still retained a glimmer of their former sparkle. Safely bypassing the last questionable stair, Olivia side-stepped a chipped tile in the entry and headed for the massive front door, wrenching it open after only two attempts. Better at weather predictions than any soothsayer or trick knee, the wood always swelled when rain approached.

The verdant, lush green of a spring in full bloom greeted her, lent a lift to her spirits, and Olivia fairly skipped over the flagstone path that circled the old manor. She was intent on intercepting their errant applicant before he came back inside. Bad news was best broken under a sunny sky, or so her mama had always claimed. Olivia spared a quick glance upward and decided a cloudy sky would have to do.

Rounding the second corner, her feet came to an abrupt halt. Her breath hissed inward. Her eyes nearly bugged to Bedfordshire and back.

And her heart? That hurly-burly organ took off like a galloping horse—stealing away with her common sense perhaps?

Because, instead of swooning or shying away, instead of yelling loudly for Jacks, Olivia stood, happily,
hungrily
in place. She stood stock-still and she stared at the sumptuous sight, watching the play of muscle across a strong, bare back as applicant twenty-five (for who else could it be?), completely unaware of her presence, wielded a Dutch hoe in one corner of the weed-infested herb garden. But most notable of all? He was dressed in nothing more than black tall boots and tight black breeches.

Obscenely tight breeches.

Well now. And to think, Juliet had complained there wasn’t anything of value remaining on the grounds.

Olivia begged to differ.

Neither did she make a sound to inform him of her presence. She might have been trained to teach proper behavior and exhibit it herself, but she knew enough about life and death, about expectations and disappointments to know opportunity didn’t often knock. Especially opportunities for observing and admiring a strong, sweaty man wearing absurdly tight breeches.

So she watched. And her dratted throat betrayed her, making some sort of begging, yearning noise that had her unexpected treat jerking upright and whirling around.

“Oh!” was all he said, a gruff sound of surprise.

Oh
was right. Oh great day in the gloomy afternoon, she’d never seen such a handsome man. With his shirt off.

And staring right at her as though he
liked
what he saw.

Her.

Well now. Mayhap this wouldn’t be such an onerous task after all.