When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

The earl jumped to his feet. “Get out!” Saliva bubbled at the corners of his mouth. “Leave this house and never return. Murray is a gentleman and will marry her regardless of this fiasco, and I have the power to silence men like Purcell.”

Benedict did not argue. Wearing a mischievous smile, he rose with languid grace. “Perhaps you should invest your time trying to establish who wants to hurt your daughter.” He snatched the letter off the desk and thrust it into his coat pocket. “Perhaps you have enemies who will stop at nothing to cause your family pain.”

Though Cassandra had remained silent for the last ten minutes, the need to say something forced her to stand. “I am assured you are an unsuspecting player in this spiteful game, Mr Cavanagh. Consequently, I cannot let you leave without thanking you for your assistance this morning.” It was the nicest thing she had said to him in years. So why did the words cause a painful pang in her heart?

Benedict swallowed deeply though did not make eye contact. “You must send word to Lord Murray at once. He’s your only hope of salvaging something of your reputation.”

The lie fell easily from his lips. She was beyond redemption, would forever bear the mark of this betrayal. Only love could save her now. And Lord Murray had professed love more times than she could count.

“Perhaps Tregarth orchestrated this whole affair, desperate to give you the only thing you truly desire,” her father snapped. “Well, you won’t have it. Do you hear? Murray will step up to the mark. You can be certain of that.”

For the first time since Benedict had entered the study, Cassandra saw a flicker of doubt in his bold blue eyes. The Earl of Tregarth wouldn’t stoop so low. Would he?

“I sincerely hope Murray is a gentleman. The sort who understands the value of love.” Benedict did not incline his head as he took his leave, did not take her hand or offer a bow. Why would he when he despised them to their core?

As she listened to the clip of Benedict’s booted steps recede along the hall, she felt more alone, more exposed than she had in Hyde Park. The stomach-churning silence left her dreading her father’s next comment.

“You will wait in your bedchamber until Lord Murray arrives.” The earl rounded the desk, his teeth bared. “You’re not to leave this house without my permission. Is that clear?”

A mocking snort escaped her. “Have no fear. I doubt I shall ever leave the house again.” The thought of walking the streets—every head whipping in her direction, every wicked whisper carrying her name—made her nauseous.

“I’ll send for a physician to confirm you’re still intact. Should he find otherwise, then you may as well return to Hyde Park to peddle your wares.”

A physician?

Hate reared like a spitting serpent in her chest. No matter what she did, she could never make this man proud. Would he ever forgive the fact her mother died giving her life? Would he ever accept that every attempt to sire an heir brought death and devastation? It was the one thing he had in common with the Earl of Tregarth. The glaring difference was that Tregarth loved his son.

Knowing it was futile to argue, she bowed her head and made for the door.

“I shall ask you one question, and you will tell me the truth!” Her father’s booming voice stopped her dead in her tracks. “I will know if you’re lying. Turn to face me, girl. Let me see if wickedness dances in your eyes.”

Cassandra swung around and lifted her chin. She would have married anyone to escape this house. But her father demanded she choose Lord Murray for her husband, despite the gentleman insisting on a lengthy betrothal.

“Ask your question,” she said, knowing it would be like another barbed arrow to her damaged heart.

“Did you send the letter to Cavanagh? Did you send the letters to all of them in the hope the bastard would marry you?”

“You think I planned my own ruination?” Good God. She expected the worst from him but did not expect that. “You think I stripped off my clothes and lay cold and helpless on the grass? You think I am that devious, that callous I would trap a man into marriage?”

The earl looked her keenly in the eyes, the lines on his forehead deepening. “You loved the filthy guttersnipe once.”

“Don’t call him that. I would have perished in the park were it not for him.” A storm of feelings swirled in her chest. “But yes, I loved him once. Not anymore, due to your wicked intervention.” Her shoulders sagged and water welled in her eyes. “You taught me to believe that reputation is everything. Why would I damage the only thing I had left?”

Keen to prevent him from seeing her so distraught, she hurried from the room, ran to her bedchamber and slammed the door. Only then did she crumple into a heap and sob until there were no more tears left to shed.

* * *

Three hours passed before Dr Hadley arrived to perform his degrading examination, to meddle and probe and declare her untouched. Five hours later, the earl summoned her to the study to face Lord Murray, the only man with the power to ease her pain and make minor repairs to her tattered reputation.

The earl’s loud voice reached her ears long before she reached the stairs. The maid and the footman listening at the study door scattered upon hearing Cassandra’s descent. Although snooping was an accepted pastime for society ladies, she would rather look Lord Murray in the eyes when he delivered his verdict. Still, a terrible sense of foreboding prevented her from turning the doorknob.

After a moment spent convincing herself there were good men in the world, she patted her hair and entered the room. Both men came to their feet. Both men wore a look of anxious frustration.

A lock of dark hair fell over Timothy’s brow as he inclined his head. “Cassandra, forgive me. I would have come sooner, but Lord Mendleson kept me at the club. He is not the sort of man one leaves halfway through a conversation.”

“No, of course not,” she said, her smile as weak as Timothy’s chin. Would Benedict Cavanagh have sat drinking port and discussing politics while his betrothed suffered the worst kind of humiliation? “But you’re here now, and I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you.”

Timothy’s thin lips twitched as he struggled to meet her gaze. “Your father said you’ve been the victim of a cruel plot to undermine his position.”