When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

“The version Murray heard at the club told a different story,” her father snapped. “Some men have nothing better to do than manipulate events to suit their purpose. Thankfully, we’re intelligent enough to see through their wicked games.”

“Lord Purcell said he found you half-naked in the arms of Tregarth’s son.”

The comment almost made her retch. More so because she knew that was reason enough for Timothy to withdraw his marriage proposal.

“Tregarth’s son happened to stumble upon me in a distressed state mere moments before Lord Purcell arrived. As my father said, someone sought to stage the event with the express purpose of harming my family.”

“I see.” Timothy did not look convinced. “Still, you can see why it poses a problem.”

He stood, staring at nothing. It was the first time she had ever noticed his insipid eyes, eyes that lacked any real expression. Even when he’d professed his love, the spoken words conveyed meaning, not his countenance. Indeed, his whole bearing lacked the unwavering strength one observed in Benedict Cavanagh.

“The physician has certified the girl is intact. Does that not prove that some devil fabricated this whole event?” Never had her father looked so nervous. “I can arrange for a special licence, but perhaps the best course of action is to take Cassandra north. A wedding in Scotland will suffice, and a few weeks spent out of town will steal the wind from the gossips’ sails.”

Good Lord! She hadn’t thought it possible to feel more helpless, more demeaned than she had this morning. Hearing her father practically beg Lord Murray to marry her left her thoroughly ashamed.

“There’s no reason to rush into anything.” Timothy shook his head. “No reason to panic.”

“No reason!” her father bellowed. “God damn it, man, the chit’s life is in tatters and you want to delay?”

Of course he wanted to delay. A gentleman did not marry a lady embroiled in a scandal. Lady Murray’s daughter-in-law must be as pure as the driven snow. Morally unsullied. A paragon of virtue.

“The situation requires some reflection.” Timothy shuffled uncomfortably. “I have ambitions in government. A man in my position must be mindful who he marries.”

Now Cassandra knew why the lord wore his collars so high and his cravat tied in so complicated a knot it might well strangle him if he jerked suddenly. A spineless man needed help to keep his head upright.

“And what of love?” she dared ask, eager to hear yet another bumbling excuse.

Timothy frowned. “You know as well as I do, love plays no part in society marriages. History books rarely mention the wives of successful men.”

“So you do love me?”

“Love you? I adore you, but countries are not built on love, Cassandra.”

If Benedict Cavanagh loved a woman, would he see her thrown to the wolves to satisfy his ambition? When Benedict professed his love all those years ago, she had seen the glaring truth in his eyes. Timothy’s eyes were a dim blue when he spoke about anything other than politics.

“Surely you can see how difficult this is for me,” the lord pleaded. Anyone would think he’d been found drugged and semi-naked in Hyde Park. “Every decision I make must be done with extreme thought and care.” He turned his attention to her father. “A man cannot defy the standards set by society’s upper echelons.”

“She’s the daughter of an earl, not a blasted market hawker. By rights, she could have set her sights higher than a mere baron. But your ambitions are the reason I wanted to forge an alliance.”

Insulting her betrothed was hardly conducive to achieving one’s goal. Besides, she would rather suffer eternal shame than take this disloyal fool for a husband.

“It is of no consequence.” Somehow she found the strength to speak without her voice breaking. “Suffice to say I free you from your obligation, Lord Murray.”

“What? Be quiet, Cassandra.” The earl stared down his patrician nose. “You’re the reason we’re in this godforsaken predicament. If you cannot speak sense, don’t speak at all.”

The tightening of her throat preceded the onset of tears. She didn’t want to cry in front of Timothy, but the first drops splashed onto her cheeks, and she had to dash them away. “May I remind you both, I am the victim of a crime. A crime perpetrated against me because of some wrong you have committed, Father.” Anger surfaced, and she gritted her teeth at Timothy. “Or perhaps Lady Murray arranged my ruination because she has designs on another lady for your wife.”

Timothy’s cheeks puffed. “I know you’re upset, Cassandra, but I’ll not have a bad word spoken against my mother.”

“Upset?” Devastated was the better word, although that didn’t even begin to describe how she felt. “Upset is what one experiences when they have snagged their new dress.”

“You’re hardly in a position to criticise a man for making a wrong choice.”

Cassandra stood dumbfounded.

Not because both men were cruel to belittle and shame her. Not because the life she knew was lost to her now. But because standing amid the ruins and the debris felt oddly liberating. What was there to fear when one occupied the lowest order? From here on in things could only improve. Indeed, in rebuilding a life from the ashes, she might make her own rules, choose her own destiny.

“Perhaps you’re right, Lord Murray.” She refused to use his given name now. “There seems little point continuing this conversation as you have made me acutely aware of your position. You may hurry home to your mother and reassure her that you’ve slipped free from scandal’s noose.”