When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

Sybil snorted. “I have yet to find evidence to support that theory. Mr Daventry is the most obnoxious man ever to make my acquaintance. He is rather blatant in his indifference. Perhaps if I had your golden locks and trim figure, he might be less rude.”

“Perhaps Mr Daventry shows the world what he wants them to see—a man with no interest in anything other than seducing women.”

Cassandra was full of ideas when it came to assessing Sybil’s problem, useless when it came to solving her own.

“I hate to pester you when you have so much to contend with already.” Sybil captured Cassandra’s hand. “But if Mr Cavanagh could discover any information about the auction, I would be eternally grateful.”

“I cannot promise Benedict will have any success, but he said he would speak to Mr Daventry. They have—”

A discreet cough behind forced Cassandra to stop abruptly and glance over her shoulder. Lord Murray stood a mere foot away looking handsome and elegant in a forest-green coat—another recent purchase as she had never seen the garment. Nor had she seen the large ruby pin decorating his cravat.

“Cassandra, forgive the intrusion, but may I have a moment of your time?”

“I would have liked a moment of your time, Timothy, but you preferred to drink port and talk politics.” She turned back to Sybil, but the notion that she might press Lord Murray to confess proved too tempting an opportunity to miss. She gripped Sybil’s hand. “I shall send word as soon as Benedict discovers the relevant details. I must speak to Lord Murray.”

Sybil nodded, but then suspicion clouded her vibrant green eyes. “Promise me you won’t venture from this corridor.”

Having heard the remark, Lord Murray scoffed. “Cassandra has nothing to fear from me, Miss Atwood. I’m not the rogue who kidnapped her if that is what you’re implying.”

“You clearly had a motive, my lord,” Sybil countered, not the least bit afraid of the peer. “Forgive me for being slightly apprehensive when you seek private counsel.”

“Can a man not show concern for the lady he was supposed to marry?”

Sybil lifted her chin. “Not when you gave up the right in deference to your reputation.”

Before they drew attention from the gossips hiding in dark corners, Cassandra drew Sybil aside. “I shall speak to Lord Murray near that alcove.” She pointed to the place vacated by two whispering women. A place closer to the ballroom. “Would you find Benedict and tell him where I am?” The strains of a waltz reached her ears. “He should be waiting near the terrace doors.”

Sybil nodded and lowered her voice. “Despite what Lord Murray says, do not go anywhere with him.”

“I won’t.”

Placated, Sybil cast Lord Murray a disapproving glare before heading back along the corridor towards the ballroom.

Cassandra led Lord Murray towards the empty alcove. “No doubt this won’t take long. So, what is it you wish to say?”

Lord Murray stepped closer. Too close. The annoying lock of dark hair fell over his brow as he bent his head. “I put you in a bit of a predicament last night when I spoke about your love for me in front of your husband. It’s clear he admires you greatly”—the lord’s gaze dropped to the exposed curve of her breasts—“as do I.”

Cassandra shrugged. “It is of no consequence.”

“Cavanagh rescued something of your reputation, and for that needs commending.”

“He certainly does.”

“But everyone knows you despise him, and it’s only a matter of time before he takes a mistress.” Lord Murray moistened his almost absent top lip. “My advice is to approach your marriage with the same mindset as your husband.”

Cassandra blinked rapidly, astounded at his audacity. “And what mindset would that be?”

His smirk spelt mischief. “Oh, I think you know. When two people share a deep affection, as we do, it is understandable that we would want to satisfy our curiosity.”

Good Lord!

How had she been so blind as to think this man was something other than a repulsive leech? She had every intention of explaining exactly how she felt, but not before trying to gain the truth from the blood-sucking parasite.

“How could I trust you when you’re the one who had most to gain from my ruination? Perhaps if you had an alibi, I might have more faith. What time did you leave Lord Craven’s ball that night?”

Lord Murray arched an arrogant brow and puffed his chest. “Around midnight. Twenty people can verify my claim.”

“Name them.”