When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

Before Rosamund could reply, a knock on the door stole their attention. The series of raps reminded Cassandra of the complicated code used to gain access to Mrs Crandall’s abode, and most certainly signalled Damian Wycliff’s arrival.

Benedict took hold of her hand and whispered, “You’ve had enough upset for one day. I’m taking you home.” He cast his stone-like gaze on Lord Murray and Rosamund. “Well, when in Rome, do as the Romans do. You’re not the only ones who like to manipulate situations to their advantage.”

Benedict opened the door and bid Mr Wycliff and Sir William entry.

“So, it’s as we expected.” Mr Wycliff’s smirk stretched from ear to ear as Sir William tore into the room as if the devil were at his heels.

“I’ll explain later,” Benedict said amid the cries and sudden shouting, “but for now I’m taking Cassandra home.”

Mr Wycliff inclined his head. “I shall call on you in Jermyn Street and inform you of what occurs here.”

The fracas spilling out of the room drew the gazes of everyone in the courtyard. No one gave Cassandra and Benedict a second glance as they strolled through the stunned crowd back to their carriage. All eyes were upon the lord being dragged onto the gallery, wearing nothing but his shirt and breeches.

Neither of them spoke as they settled into the carriage seat. Cassandra rested her head on Benedict’s shoulder, sleep and the need to make love to her husband being the overriding thoughts. Indeed, they would tackle the matter of her father and Lady Murray in due course.

And then there would be hell to pay.

Chapter Nineteen

Tregarth owned many warehouses surrounding the London Docks in Wapping. New storage facilities built to house luxury commodities such as silk and spices. Modern buildings. Elegant buildings. But one did not indulge cruel people, and so the setting for a night of mischief and mayhem was a small warehouse beyond the murky street of Lower Shadwell. A place frequented by thieves and drunken sailors, men comfortable with criminal activity.

“Is it possible to feel terrified and excited at the same time?” Cassandra sat on a wooden crate while Benedict lit the oil lamps hanging from metal chains flung over the rafters.

“You’ve spent a lifetime playing the obedient daughter. Now it’s time to make your own rules, follow your own destiny.”

Her smile warmed his heart. “People reap what they sow. I only hope my abductors feel the same sense of desperate despair as I did when I woke in the park wearing nothing but a filthy chemise.”

Benedict scanned the damp brick building, wondering what Lady Murray and the Earl of Worthen would make of their prison when they arrived. The air was pungent with the smell of tobacco and the potent fumes from rum. The scurrying of rats searching for food had Cassandra continually looking over her shoulder.

There were no windows.

No doors, bar one.

No means of escape.

“I have lost count of how many times I have asked,” she said, drawing the thick cloak across her chest, “but have we much longer to wait?”

Benedict pulled his watch from his pocket and inspected the face beneath the light of the lamp. “It’s ten o’clock. The first of our prisoners should be here soon.”

Tregarth, Wycliff and Trent were tasked with stealing the earl from his home and bringing him to the dingy warehouse. The Marquis of Blackbeck, Scarlett and Verity had the pleasure of escorting Lady Murray to the place of inquisition.

Cassandra stood and brushed dust off her cloak. “My pulse is racing so fast it’s drumming in my ears.”

He closed the gap between them and drew her into an embrace. “If there was justice in the world, we would strip both conspirators of their good names and leave them to rot in a squalid gaol.” But the law protected manipulative men like Worthen. It protected cunning ladies who sought to control people’s lives, too.

Cassandra came up on her toes and kissed him tenderly on the lips. “Banishing them from London is the best we can hope for.”

“Trust me. They will never harm you again.”

“I owe Sybil a great deal. Had she not mentioned seeing Rosamund in Warwick Lane, we would have been forever chasing our tails.”

He caressed her cheek and gave a knowing smirk. “I will speak to Daventry on her behalf, though I pray you will caution Miss Atwood in the folly of pursuing a man with such a notorious reputation.”

A light laugh breezed from her lips. “Sybil has a will of her own. Woe betide anyone who tries to tell her what to do.”

“She’s a good friend.?

? Upon learning of Miss Fox’s duplicity, Miss Atwood had been eager to reassure Cassandra that she knew nothing of their friend’s affair with Murray. “And we will assist her in any way we can.”