When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

“Then perhaps I should work to prove my innocence. Perhaps I should focus my efforts on finding the rogue who kidnapped Cassandra Mills from Lord Craven’s ball and dumped her in the park.” Benedict drew on the pipe to banish all thoughts of what a blackguard would do to a drugged woman.

“Can anyone vouch for your whereabouts last night?” Tregarth sipped his wine while studying Benedict over the rim of his glass, concern the overriding emotion, not suspicion.

“I spent the evening in Bruton Street dining with the Wycliffs, Trent and Miss Vale.” A memorable evening dominated by talk of love and marriage and the happiness that came when a man found solace in a life companion. They had laughed about Mrs Crandall’s obsession, reassured him that he, too, would find the one person who was his match in every way, oblivious to his real thoughts and feelings on the matter. “I left early, returned home at eleven. The letter arrived shortly after midnight.”

“The letter telling you to visit the Serpentine at dawn?”

“Indeed.”

“You’re a man with a strong mind, a man who rarely does what he’s told.” Admiration clung to his father’s words. “You witness shocking sights at every demimonde rout and soirée. What drew you out of bed at such an ungodly hour?”

Benedict placed his pipe on the table. He captured his goblet and took to savouring the taste of the expensive claret while contemplating the question.

“It had nothing to do with the persuasive tone,” he said, “and everything to do with a strange feeling in my gut.” Not strange—compelling. “Evidently, the sender assigned me a role in this farce, and I took to the stage as if I were born to act.”

Tregarth remained silent for a time. “Whoever did this to you will pay dearly.”

Benedict snorted. “I’m strong enough to deal with anything thrown my way. Lady Cassandra is the one who deserves justice.” And he would occupy his mind by finding the person responsible.

“After all these years, after the despicable way she treated you, your thoughts turn to her welfare.”

“All men have an Achilles heel.” And Cassandra Mills was his.

“And so what will you do now that Lord Murray has freed himself from his obligation?”

It took a moment for the news to penetrate Benedict’s brain. “Murray has done what!” Benedict sat up so fast water splashed onto the boards. Despite the warm water his blood ran cold. “The spineless bastard.”

“You cannot blame Murray. When a man engages in a business transaction, he must approach matters from a logical perspective.”

Nausea roiled in Benedict’s stomach. Indeed, he could almost feel Cassandra’s wrenching despair. “The lady made a mistake when she chose Murray and must live with the consequences. Worthen will find someone for her to wed.” Even at that, she would be barred from respectable events. “And I shall bear the daggers of disdain just as I have done my whole life.”

The twitch of his father’s cheek was the only visible sign of the guilt he bore. The flash of pride in his eyes spoke of the love and loyalty that eased the burden of Benedict’s illegitimacy.

A knock on the door brought Perkins. The footman inclined his head—an apology for the intrusion—and announced that the Earl of Worthen and Lady Cassandra Mills were waiting in the drawing room.

Shock rendered Benedict momentarily speechless.

Tregarth pulled his watch from his pocket and angled the face towards the candlelight. “It’s almost nine o’clock.?

?? A smug grin formed on his father’s lips. “For Worthen to call at this late hour, he must have something important to say.”

“Do you know something I don’t?”

“Not at all, yet one cannot help but feel some satisfaction when his enemy accepts defeat.”

“Defeat? I imagine Worthen has come to accuse me of kidnapping and ravishment.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Perkins cleared his throat. “Shall I tell them you’re indisposed, sir?”

The last thing Benedict wanted was another confrontation with the earl. Trent and Verity were marrying at St George’s in the morning, and after the scandal in Hyde Park, he needed his wits to cope with their outpouring of love.

“Tell them I have no desire—”

“No,” Tregarth interjected. “The intuitive feeling that saw you ride to Hyde Park at dawn tells me you should dress and meet your guests in the drawing room.”

“The urge to turn Worthen away overrules all other sensations.” And the warm water had eased his pain a little. Why would he let them take turns hurling insults? “The lord seeks every opportunity to cast aspersions on my character. I’ll not listen to his vile diatribe whilst in my own home.”