When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

She swallowed past the sudden rush of excitement, past the warm feeling glowing in her chest. “You’re my husband. Why would I mind?” But the need to speak from the heart saw her add, “There’s nothing I would like more than to be close to you.”

He inclined his head, pulled back the coverlet and waited for her to slip beneath the sheets. He joined her in bed, kissed her in the sinful yet affectionate way that tugged at the muscles deep inside. Then he relaxed back on the pillow and fell asleep within minutes.

Fascinated, she hugged her pillow and watched the soft rise and fall of his chest, studied every facet of the man she had loved for as long as she could remember. The man she still loved to the depths of her soul.

Chapter Twelve

The Earl of Tregarth did nothing in small measure. Benedict surveyed his father’s opulent ballroom and smiled. Expensive Italian chandeliers reflected the candlelight to a greater degree. Lavish paintings in ornate gilt frames decorated the vibrant burgundy walls. The orchestra—renowned throughout Europe for their skill and expertise—only played for the king and a select few granted a royal decree. The earl enjoyed reminding the members of the aristocracy of his wealth and power. Not because he thought himself superior or because he sought gratification. No. His father’s motivation stemmed from making life more bearable for Benedict.

Cassandra touched Benedict lightly on the arm. “Your father has spared no expense this evening. The ice sculptures are the best I have ever seen.” She pointed to Cupid equipped with his bow. “Like the ancient sculptures one finds in museums.”

“My father hires Fausto Farino whenever he wishes to beat the lesser members of society back into place.”

“There are few who can afford Signore Farino’s extortionate fee.”

“Hence the reason Tregarth employs him to organise his gatherings. And to remind those here that most of my father’s wealth shall be mine one day.”

Cassandra cast him a sidelong glance and smiled. “It must be comforting to know your father loves you, loves you more than anything else.”

A man born on the wrong side of the blanket took nothing for granted. Other than his friends, his father was the only person who had never failed him.

“Yes,” he acknowledged. His father’s love gave him the confidence to go out into the world, to take risks, to make mistakes. “It certainly eases the burden of illegitimacy.”

With some trepidation—for he knew how his friends would react upon seeing the evidence of the brutal attack on Theobolds Road—Benedict escorted Cassandra down the stairs to join Wycliff, Trent and the men’s wives.

Benedict had barely taken a breath when Trent grabbed his arm and glared at his cheek. “What the devil’s happened to your face?”

Benedict pressed the pads of his fingers to the cut and winced. “Someone hired four thugs to attack us as we left Mrs Crandall’s abode last night. But lower your voice. I mean to avoid my father else he’ll be hellbent on revenge.”

Wycliff’s dark gaze hardened. “Why the blazes didn’t you mention your injuries when you sent word asking for Flannery’s assistance? When you gave a name and a description and said the men were from the rookeries, I assumed it had something to do with Cassandra’s kidnapping. And why the hell did you go to Mrs Crandall’s house alone? The woman is as devious as the devil.”

Benedict was about to answer when Scarlett sucked in a sharp breath. She reached out and gently brushed aside Cassandra’s ringlets. “Your cheek is bruised, too.”

“It’s nothing, just a slight swelling from a hard slap. I couldn’t stand there and let those brutes beat my husband.”

All four of his friends looked on incredulously.

“Cassandra attacked one with a riding crop.” Admiration for his wife’s actions rang in Benedict’s tone. “Foston dealt with the other two, leaving me alone with the thug who goes by the name of Finnigan.”

“After receiving your note, I met with Flannery,” Wycliff said. “The name was unfamiliar, but he will speak to his contacts on the streets and inform me should he learn more about the men you described.”

“Finnigan said Lord Murray hired them.”

“Murray!” Trent whispered through gritted teeth. “The damn coward. He’s here somewhere. I shall take him to a quiet corner of the garden and throttle a confession from his lying lips.”

“We visited Murray at home and dragged him from his bed.” A vision of the lord wearing his jaunty nightcap made Benedict smile. “The man insists he’s innocent.”

“And you believe him?” Wycliff snorted. “Give me a moment alone with Murray, too, and we’ll soon get to the truth.”

“I don’t know what to believe.” Benedict told them about Mrs Crandall’s revelation regarding Murray’s financial situation. “Murray has no reason to hurt me. If he arranged Cassandra’s ruination, he would have used the attack to throw the blame elsewhere. He could have told Finnigan to say Purcell had hired them.”

“A fair point,” Wycliff admitted. “Or the man is so stupid he didn’t think you would ask. So, you want Flannery to find out who hired the thugs?”

“Indeed.”

“That still leaves Murray in the frame for kidnapping.”

“Lord Murray has been fawning over Miss Pendleton from the moment she arrived tonight,” Verity added. “Having a reason not to marry Cassandra has given him the freedom to pursue a lady who possesses a substantial dowry.”