When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

“I have a written confession from the man who carried out the attack.” He could lie and manipulate men, too, when necessary. “A confession given in front of witnesses.”

“What? More heathens from the demimonde? Their word pales next to mine.”

Benedict was prepared to tell another lie if it meant wiping the smirk off the lord’s face. “Wycliff and his father, the Marquis of Blackbeck, bore witness to the confession. As did the owner of The Silver Serpent. You’ll be surprised what some lords will say in exchange for the return of their vowels.”

The earl’s arrogant expression faltered. He shuffled uncomfortably. “Whatever this miscreant said is a lie. What have I possibly got to gain from making such an arrangement?”

Oh, he had everything to gain—control of his daughter being the primary goal. “If I’m dead, your daughter can marry someone more suitable. As a widow, older men might overlook the scandal created to cause you shame. Somehow you would turn the situation to your advantage.”

The earl snorted.

“See, you cannot deny it. Your duplicity is written all over your miserable face. So, as we’re the only ones here, and there are no witnesses, why don’t you show the courage of your conviction and tell the damn truth?”

A tense silence ensued.

“No? Can you not stand by your decision?” Benedict braced his knuckles on the desk and leaned forward. “Cowards hide behind webs of deceit. Cowards know only dishonesty.”

An arrogant smirk played on the earl’s thin lips. “Very well.” He dropped into the chair. “So I did hire those men, hired them to beat you, not kill you. Though I must admit, the thought of being rid of you has merit.”

How Benedict stopped himself from lunging across the desk was anyone’s guess. “So you thought a thrashing would keep me in my place?”

“It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with that bloody pompous lord who was supposed to marry my daughter.”

“Murray?” It took a few seconds for recognition to dawn. “Ah, you knew that I would eventually find the men responsible and they would reveal that Murray ordered the attack.”

“The Murrays cannot treat me this way. They will pay for what they’ve done. Mark my words.”

Benedict exhaled an incredulous snort. “Treat you this way? It’s your daughter who has suffered. She has suffered your prolonged cruelty her entire life.”

He recalled the way Cassandra behaved with quiet timidity in her father’s presence. During those times when she had escaped the house to meet him secretly, she was a different person, full of life and vitality.

“In seeking retribution for the Murrays’ disrespect, I am seeking retribution for Cassandra’s mistreatment,” the earl countered.

“Ballocks! You don’t give a damn about her. All you care about is what she can give you, what she can bring to the negotiating table.” If he closed his eyes, he could still see her struggling on the ground with her attacker, could still hear the thug delivering a hard slap. “When you hired these men, did you know one would assault your daughter?” Benedict thundered. “Did you know she would have to walk amongst her peers with a bruise marring her cheek?”

The earl’s chin dropped. “What … I …”

“No, you never think about anything but your own ambitions. I hold you responsible for what happened to her in the park. You may not have kidnapped her from the ball, but by insisting she marry Murray, you arranged her fall from grace.”

The sudden slam of the front door, the sound of raised voices and the heavy clip of footsteps in the hall preceded the arrival of Wycliff, Cassandra and Tregarth.

Tregarth wore a navy silk robe and clearly nothing underneath as one could see the dusting of golden hair between the soft lapels. The lord marched around the desk without uttering a word, grabbed Worthen by his cravat and shook him violently.

“You dare threaten the life of my son.” Tregarth’s face burned red with rage. “I’ve tolerated your disrespect for long enough. You will meet me at dawn tomorrow in Pickering Place. We will forgo the time granted to cool heads. Name your second. And I shall have mine deliver a formal challenge. Refuse, and I shall denounce you in every broadsheet willing to publish the notice.”

Worthen’s face blanched as he gulped for breath.

Benedict slammed his hand on the desk. “This is my battle, not yours.”

“I have made it mine, and I shall see this matter through to the bitter end.” Tregarth tightened his grip on Worthen’s cravat. “Name your second.”

“I don’t need a second,” the earl croaked.

“That’s because you cannot name a man willing to stand by your side.”

“Name yours,” Worthen countered.

Tregarth released the lord and grinned. “I’m a man who refuses to bow to convention. A man who would challenge the very foundations of our dignified code. And so I name my daughter-in-law as my second. I name Cassandra Cavanagh.”