Once Upon a Scandal (16 page)

“Painshill Park, artful contrivance that it is, was my father’s pride and joy. All I’ve done is maintain it.” He kept his tone light and impersonal. “It’s quite famous among the horticultural set. Both Mr. Jefferson and Mr. Adams came from America to see it when Father was alive.”

“The presidents?” She looked not a little awestruck.

“Indeed. We’ve had all sorts of important personages grace the gardens. Following her visit here, Catherine the Great of Russia commissioned an entire dinner service painted with scenes from Painshill. She particularly liked the hermitage.”

“The hermitage?”

“You did not see it? I suppose it is rather tucked away, so as to be more authentic. When I was child, a ‘hermit’ was hired to live there, but he soon grew bored with playacting, and the head gardener dismissed him for absenteeism.”

She laughed, as he’d expected she would, because while true, the story was an absurdity. “Father was very good at creating illusions, you see. Everything here was meticulously plotted and placed.”

“So he remade nature to look more natural?” Her expression was a quizzical one. “The results are to be appreciated, but it must have been a tremendous undertaking. Perhaps even a preposterous one.”

His sentiments exactly. “Father was a perfectionist.” The tension behind his smile had started a slow ache in his jaw. “And as beautiful as this place is, he wasn’t convinced God had gotten it right the first time. Even the lake is manmade. Eighty thousand tons of earth and pine forest were moved to create it.”

He’d expected her to laugh once more, suitably impressed, but instead, a shadow fell across her face. And despite his decision to remain aloof from her, he could not help but ask the question. “I’m sorry. Was it something I said?” He would take it back, whatever had made her sad, if only to have her smiling again. A thought that should set alarm bells ringing, if nothing else.

“It must have been quite a sight to see,” she said after a long moment. “The construction of that lake.”

“I suppose it was.” He and Aiden had spent many long days watching the workmen with their saws and shovels, attacking the earth and throwing its dirt over their shoulders. “A battle of man versus nature.”

“And nature versus nature.”

“I think you misunderstand. Nature had no hand in that lake. It was a folly of my father’s.” His greatest folly.

“Perhaps, but now I know why your geese are hostile,” she said, her eyes brightening.

“Really? Please, do enlighten me.”

“The lake and its geese displaced many of your woodland creatures. I expect they’ve been waging war ever since, just like England and France. Goose versus grouse, that sort of thing. Although I shudder to think of their weapons of choice.”

He gave a bark of surprised laughter. “You must be right.”

She tilted her head then, looking up at him. “It’s awfully dark in this study on such a pretty day. Won’t you join me for tea in the drawing room?”

When she asked him directly, it was difficult to refuse. “I would like that,” he said, walking around his desk to offer her his hand. But then he remembered the woeful state of his cravat, which could not be retied without Withers’s assistance. “I will join you once I’m made presentable.”

“I’ve never seen you with as much as a hair out of place.” But she looked intrigued rather than shocked by the state of his disarray. Indeed, for a moment, her eyes lingered on the small vee of skin the open collar exposed, shooting a shaft of desire through him. “I think it suits you,” she said, tucking her arm in his. “I like you unbuttoned.”

How difficult it was to ignore the lure of her humor and her beauty. To remind himself she was, essentially, a pawn in all of this. But he must. As soon as tea was done. Far better to push for a distance between them than to see the hurt in her eyes at the end, when she discovered he was no better than Rempley.

Men are so made. They refuse their admiration where it is courted; where it seems rather shunned, they love to bestow it.—
Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women

“You are more than ready, my dear,” Sophia declared as they retired to the drawing room after dinner that evening, Benjamin having left them for a few moments, with the promise of a swift return. “I’m terribly proud.”

“I’m rather proud myself,” Jane said, beaming. They’d agreed over tea she should practice her disguise once more, to ensure her readiness. And thus at dinner, she’d again been Lillianne. When the conversation turned to life in Paris, she discussed the latest fashion trends and spoke of the wonderful new draper’s shop on the
Rue de Buci
. She complained about carriage traffic along the Champs-Élysées, which was more snarled than ever, given the enormous triumphal arch under construction there. And when Benjamin asked about political rumors in the city, she told him Prince Tallyerand, Napoleon’s one-time foreign minister, was thought to be in league with the exiled King Louis.

The same Talleyrand who was apparently so fond of grapes.

But one thing still prodded uncomfortably, like a splinter. “Is it wrong to be happy I’ve mastered a lie?” she asked. “Lillianne is the opposite of me in every way.”

“I disagree,” Sophia said. “You couldn’t have fallen so easily into portraying her were that true. In fact, do you know what I think?”

“I’m almost afraid to hear it.” Unless it was a compliment, of course.

“She’s the person you’ve never allowed yourself to be.”

“You jest,” Jane said with a light laugh. “Had I been sitting beside Lillianne at dinner, saucy baggage that she is, I’d have given her the cut direct.”

“I’m being quite serious, my dear.” And given the almost apologetic expression the countess was wearing, Jane doubted a compliment was forthcoming. “For far too long, you’ve let other people’s expectations dictate who you are.”

Her smile faded, because the observation made her uncomfortable. Even indignant.

“I placed those expectations upon myself,” she said, stiffening in her chair. “Why shouldn’t I be a model of proper behavior?”

“Because it’s unspeakably tedious? And paragons intimidate more than they attract?”

She clenched her jaw, caught up in a well-deserved snit now. “I’ll have you know I was universally admired in Society, both for my manners and my temperament.”

“Yes, you were,” Sophia agreed, her eyes sympathetic. “Until suddenly, you were not. Through no fault of your own.”

And how that point stung. It was one she could not argue. Though she would try.

“So instead, I should have traipsed about as if such things didn’t matter? Behaving indiscriminately, shaming my father and threatening his aspirations?”

“No, though it might have been fun to return the favor. He certainly deserved it.” Sophia leaned forward at that. “Without your mother’s guidance, you became the person you thought your father wanted you to be.”

Her words hung in the air, a galling indictment. Because Sophia was right. Jane had done everything she could to keep his love, because she’d already seen how easily it could be lost. So she’d mastered her carefully constructed role, only to watch him make a mockery of it in the end.

“I don’t say these things to hurt you,” the countess said gently. “You’ve made an incredibly brave decision to reinvent who you are. And after your part in this is done, you will have the rest of your life to live. Make sure it is the one you want. Be bold. And remember, life is more fun when it is unpredictable and a bit off-color.”

How easy Sophia made it sound, when Jane didn’t yet know what she wanted. She would have said as much if she hadn’t heard a door opening behind her.

“I thought you might both like to join me on a tour of the conservatory,” Benjamin said, coming to a stop beside her chair. “Hundreds of flowers are in bloom, and Jonas has lit the gaslights so we won’t trip over ourselves.”

“The two of you enjoy them without me,” Sophia said, her hand floating towards her brow like a leaf on the wind. “I’m certain I’ve a headache coming on.”

In fact, Sophia was the very picture of good health, not that Jane would contradict her. Not when the opportunity to spend a few minutes alone with Benjamin had presented itself.

That wonderful, fantastical kiss they’d shared had hinted at so much more. And she could think of at least one thing she wanted … To know what else she’d been missing.

• • •

Had Benjamin known Lady Marchmain would fob him off with a sorry excuse, all but forcing him to escort Jane to the conservatory alone, he’d never have suggested this tour. Because it was highly inadvisable. He and Jane together. In this darkened place redolent of flowers. No one else in sight. When he longed to touch her.

So, instead, he kept his attention fixed on the room itself, an arched space of iron and plate glass. Or on the long rows of elevated boxes, filled with showy roses, exotic orchids, and a hundred other varietals. On the citrus trees, laden with fruit and planted in large earthenware pots.

“You seem preoccupied,” Jane said beside him. “Are you regretting your invitation already?”

“Of course not,” he lied. “I’m merely in a contemplative mood.” His hands were stiff at his sides, because he knew she’d expected him to take her by the elbow, to guide her through the aisles, as any gentleman would. “Did I mention this was my father’s favorite place at Painshill? He considered it one of his greatest accomplishments.”

“It’s easy to see why.”

They continued their slow progress, his right hand reaching out to touch on a petal here, a leaf there, none of them as soft as he knew her skin to be. He cleared his throat, if only to distract his thoughts. “Did you enjoy dinner this evening?” He was determined to keep their conversation mundane.

“I did. I was quite pleased with my performance.”

“You did very well,” he said, nearly choking on the faint praise. In truth, she’d astonished him. By the end of the meal, even he could believe she’d just arrived from France.

“And it was so kind of Lady Marchmain to lend me this necklace, when it goes so well with my dress. Don’t you think?” She’d stopped, her voice expectant.

“Absolutely. Both are beautiful.”

“But you didn’t even look … ”

“I admired them at dinner,” he said, sliding her the briefest glance before returning his attention to a trailing clematis vine.

“Oh, no you don’t,” she said, turning her back to him in a whirl of skirts. “You can’t cheat now, not when I’ve already found you out. Close your eyes.”

Gladly. The temptation was less acute that way.

“Describe the dress. And the necklace.”

“Something white, I think, with a pretty bauble.”

“You were supposed to be judging my readiness for London,” she said. Was that hurt in her voice? He’d not meant to hurt her. “You didn’t even bother to take notice of what I am wearing.”

Oh, he’d noticed. His eyes had slid over every inch of her. “Very well. Your gown is deceptively innocent, in white muslin, with short puffed sleeves.” He really should keep his mouth shut and leave it at that. “But the sleeves have thin slits that expose the bare skin of your shoulders. And the thin ribbon of cream silk tied beneath the bodice makes you look like a present waiting to be revealed.” Maybe he should open his eyes after all. All too easily, he could imagine unwrapping her.

“Go on.” She sounded somewhat mollified.

“The neckline of the dress is not at all innocent. It’s daringly low and edged with a pleated tuft of tissue-thin silk. It waves against your skin with each movement you make, like a caress. Or an invitation.”

“I’m afraid the neckline couldn’t be helped, though I did consider a lace fichu … ”

He allowed himself a small smile. “If you had, I’d have removed it and burned it for insubordination on LeRoy’s behalf.”

She giggled softly. “Very well, you’ve proved quite observant after all.” He could hear her turning back to face him, but still, he kept his eyes closed. Because the image of her had gotten its claws into him, desire trumping determination.

“The necklace … A large teardrop emerald, suspended from a string of rose-cut diamonds ringed with seed pearls. The stone nestles between the swell of your breasts.” He could say the word, couldn’t he? He’d already shocked her with it once before. “The stones catch in the gaslight, seemingly alive with the heat of you. But they are nothing compared to the glow of your skin.” He stopped then, because his voice had gone husky with need, proving he’d already revealed too much. His eyes blinked open to find her watching him, her skin flushed.

“You’ve a gift for flattery, I think.”

“It’s not flattery, Jane.” His face searched hers. “If you haven’t already guessed it, I want you badly. And it’s a curse, this desire. Because I can’t give in to it.”

His breath caught when she looked up and said, “Whyever not?”

“Because of a promise that demands I not take more than I can give.” God, how he wanted to pull her against him.

“Surely another kiss would do no harm? I … I need more practice for my disguise.”

The words—so innocently bold—were nearly his undoing, but he could no longer use lessons as an excuse. “You don’t understand, Jane. Even now, every instinct wants to seduce you. The next time I touch you—if either of us is foolish enough to allow it—I’ll not be able to stop at a kiss. I won’t stop until you’re utterly defenseless.”

And with that, he bade her good night, slipping quietly back into the house.

Daughters of Britain, where is your love for your native country? How long will you be ambitious of flaunting French attire, of fluttering about with the levity of that fantastic people?—
Fordyce’s Sermons to Young Women

Over the past several hours, as she and Oakley swayed along in a carriage on the Dover Road, Jane had fought a rising tide of panic. No doubt her performance as Lillianne last night had impressed her audience, but how would it ever be enough? They’d both given her every assurance of success, but Sophia had the brass to pull off any subterfuge, and Benjamin? Well, he was Benjamin. Society might suspect him of divine powers but little else.

She’d barely slept for thinking of their conversation in the conservatory. He’d been trying to warn her away. To tell her his interest was a physical one and nothing more. He’d couched his rejection in the most flattering terms, but he’d obviously honed that skill. Legions of women had fallen under his spell.