When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

“Heavens, I feel oddly liberated.”

“They won’t all be that easy,” Benedict warned, “but it’s a start.”

As always, he was right. Numerous people wore the same look of confusion and mortification when faced with Cassandra’s scrutiny. But then the whispers reached her ears. The spiteful comments meant to put paid to her confident demeanour.

“Lord Murray had a lucky escape” was one remark thrown her way.

“A man in government cannot have a hussy for a wife” was another.

“Trollop.”

Benedict tried to bolster her defences, but every nasty word hit like a barbed arrow aimed to cause lethal damage. Matters grew progressively worse when they reached New Bond Street and she saw Lord Murray commanding the reins of his racing curricle, looking as pleased with his new equipage as he was the elegant lady seated at his side.

Shame burned Cassandra’s cheeks when she met the lord’s curious gaze.

“Fine pair of Cleveland Bays, Murray,” Benedict called to the lord as they passed. “Weak men always choose spirited horses.”

Panic set her body trembling. She gripped Benedict’s arm and forced him to continue walking. “Lord Murray has a reputation to uphold. Do you want an invitation to a dawn appointment?”

Benedict gave a mocking snort. “Murray is a coward. I could put him on his arse with my eyes closed. I find his manner unacceptable under the circumstances and would frighten him to within an inch of his life for his indiscretion.”

Benedict had a point.

“You’d think he would wait a few days before inviting Miss Pendleton to ride out with him. Could he not at least pretend to be heartbroken?”

“Seeing him openly courting the lady gives him a motive for wanting to break your betrothal.” Anger infused Benedict’s tone, and he muttered a curse. “If I discover he’s responsible, I shall be the one issuing an invitation to meet on the common.”

“Because he has ruined your life?”

“No, because he has ruined yours.”

A warm, comforting feeling settled in her chest. A lady need fear nothing with Benedict Cavanagh as her husband.

She attempted to analyse why it hurt to see Lord Murray impressing Miss Pendleton with his expert driving. It had nothing to do with mourning a lost love—and she certainly knew how it felt to have her heart wrenched from her chest. While she had held Murray in high esteem, she never felt as though she might die without his touch. No. It had more to do with the fact she had been used and discarded by people she trusted.

“Lord Murray hasn’t ruined my life, Benedict. He’s made me evaluate what is important.”

She pulled Benedict to the window of Craddock and Haines bookshop. Not to look at the autumnal palette of leather-bound books, but to study their reflection in the glass. They looked like any other respectable couple, yet their relationship had been marred by people eager to interfere.

“Hellfire, they have a copy of Vathek.” Benedict took her hand and pulled her into the bookshop. He left her perusing the volumes on the shelves while he asked to look at the supernatural tale on display.

Keen to avoid other disagreeable members of the ton, she headed to the shelves near the back of the shop. Noting a lady dressed in widow’s weeds peering curiously at the books, Cassandra decided to make a hasty retreat. But the woman swung around, and their gazes locked.

“Sybil?”

Sybil tapped her finger frantically to her lips and then beckoned Cassandra forward.

“Why are you hiding back here?” Cassandra whispered.

Sybil pointed to the thin gap between the row of books, a gap that afforded a view of a gentleman with raven black hair devouring the mouth of an elegant lady in the next aisle.

Cassandra shrugged in confusion. “Who are they?” With the amorous couple locked in a passionate embrace, one could not distinguish any telling features. “And why are you dressed in black? You always wear green.”

“It’s my disguise.” Sybil pressed her finger to her lips again. Carefully, she moved the books to close the gap and stepped back from the shelves. “Do you remember me telling you about Devious Daventry?”

“You mean Lucius Daventry?”

“Yes, but the man is as unscrupulous as the devil and deserves the moniker. I heard that he is holding a private auction to sell the journals and scientific apparatus he bought from my father. As you know, I’m keen to buy them back. When I wrote to him and asked for a seat at the sale, he refused.”