When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

“You would marry me, knowing I am entertaining someone else upstairs?” Someone who just happened to be his father. “You would be happy knowing I bed other women?”

A pained expression marred her fine features. “You know the answer, Benedict, but I am not in a position to make demands.”

“The blighter is punishing you. Can you not see that?” Worthen just couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut. “Numerous gentlemen will have you. Tomorrow I shall visit Chadderton. You won’t have to bow and scrape to him.”

“Chadderton? The man is sixty years of age.” The thought of the old devil’s bony fingers roaming over Cassandra’s soft skin made Benedict mentally retch.

“There’s Lord Theakston,” Worthen countered. “He has always admired her. And Viscount Barton’s youngest son.”

Confusion sought to muddle Benedict’s senses. Was he not their last hope? He glared at the earl. “And you did not think to visit those gentlemen before coming here?”

“The harrowing events of the day have turned my daughter into a bumbling buffoon.”

Another resigned sigh escaped Cassandra’s lips. “Benedict, I will marry you or I will marry no one. My father can throw me into the gutter for all I care, but I will not be a pawn in his power game.”

Worthen muttered a string of obscenities beneath his breath.

It took Benedict every effort to suppress the surge of joy that would have him bend the knee and pretend the last five years never existed. Bitterness surfaced. She had ruined his life once before and was set to ruin it again. Still, the prospect of having her at his beck and call proved as tempting as the forbidden fruit.

“My dowry is substantial enough that I would not be a financial burden.”

“Your dowry is unacceptable.” Pride would see him refuse every penny the earl offered.

“Now, listen here. If you think to use this scandal to bleed me dry, you can think again,” Worthen snapped.

Benedict ignored the earl’s tantrum. “If I marry your daughter, I’ll marry her without a dowry. I don’t need your money, and I don’t need your condescension. I shall set aside a portion of equal value to be used for settlements and security for her and future children and have legal documents drawn to protect her interests.”

Cassandra’s eyes widened in disbelief. “What are you saying? That you will marry me?”

In his need to challenge the earl, his imagination had run wild.

Benedict paused for a moment. Would possessing the one thing denied him ease the infernal pain? With Trent marrying, what would he do with his time? Indeed, the parties, the wild carousing, the scandalous goings-on in the demimonde had lost their appeal. And he could not imagine loving a woman the way he once loved Cassandra.

“You have yet to propose,” he said, relishing the look of shock on the lady’s face.

“Me? You want me to beg, to get down on bended knee?”

Worthen continued to mumble incoherent nonsense.

“I don’t want you to beg, Cassandra, but you will give me three reasons why you want me for your husband.” He would know if she lied, if she spouted sentiment to appease him. And while they could live separate lives despite being married, it would be better to start on a positive note.

“I lost my reputation, my dignity, and you

would still make me suffer?”

“I doubt I shall ever trust you again. Give me some truth if I’m to gamble everything on making you my wife.” He turned to the earl. He would not have the cruel lord party to their intimate conversation. “Wait in the carriage. This will take but a moment.”

The earl was about to protest when Cassandra said, “No doubt you’re the reason I stand here with no option but to bare my soul. At least have the decency to afford me some privacy.”

Tregarth appeared in the doorway. “You heard what your daughter said, George. Indeed, I shall join you in the cramped confines as I, too, have a few things to say.”

Worthen sneered. “I should have known you were here. What is this? A family orgy?”

“The carriage, George,” Tregarth reinforced in a steely voice sure to frighten most men. “Else I shall drag you there myself. If our children decide to marry, we will have to argue the case with the archbishop. Better you air your grievances with me first.”

After a tense few seconds, Worthen obliged.

Left alone, Benedict studied Cassandra. The last time she’d looked so nervous, he’d been about to press his lips to hers—the first kiss of many. “I’m sorry Lord Murray proved false-hearted. I know what it’s like to have the rug ripped from under your feet, leaving you staggering and wondering how you’ll ever stand straight.”