Wickeds Scandal by Kathleen Ayers
12
“Alexandra?” Miranda sounded as if she were speaking from far away.
Alexandra dozed. She snuggled deeper into the leather squabs. The green hills of Helmsby Abbey dotted with bluebells, lay before her. She walked through the rolling green grass. Birds sang and swooped overhead. She twirled and spun amongst the grass and flowers until she fell to the ground. The sweetness of the meadow filled her nostrils. She rolled over and Lord Cambourne, his glorious green eyes watching her with warmth, lay next to her. Bluebells caught in his dark hair and fell down his chest. He rolled on top of her, smothering her with kisses, pressing against her. Then he sat back, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and pushed the fine lawn off his shoulders. The dragon’s tail was as green as his eyes and the meadow that surrounded them. Her fingertips touched the tattoo and the tail wound its way around her fingers, pulling her closer to Lord Cambourne.
“Alexandra?” Fingers bit into her knee as Miranda shook her. “You must wake up. We are nearly at the Royal Exhibition. I let you doze off.” Her brow wrinkled in concern. “You seemed tired earlier.”
The dream faded. She wanted to cry out as the dragon’s tail slipped from her fingers and floated back to Lord Cambourne.
“No.”
“No? No, you don’t wish to wake up?” Miranda giggled. “You must wake up. This is an adventure. I don’t believe I’ve ever kidnapped anyone, although of course my grandmother is quite good at it.”
The last hour came back to Alexandra. The Dowager and Miranda unexpectedly appeared for tea. The two kidnapped her from her uncle’s home for an excursion to the Royal Exhibition. Well, not truly a kidnapping. Alexandra went willingly. Oliver Burke would likely have a fit, but Alexandra didn’t care. She felt good. Not wonderful, but good. The nap restored her.
“I like ‘shanghaied’ much better. It gives the impression I am dangerous and exciting.” Alexandra grinned back at Miranda. The green gaze, so like her brother’s, gave Alexandra pause. All of her dreams of late featured Lord Cambourne and the dragon tattoo. She looked out the window, so Miranda wouldn’t see the moisture in her eyes. In spite of everything, Lord Cambourne held a wicked fascination for her. She imagined him seducing various widows and torturing other virgins with his handsome face and teasing demeanor. Cutting a swath with a bevy of beautiful women. Lord Cambourne only thought her good enough to be his mistress. She must remember he was a cad. A rake. But still she craved him desperately.
“I find you terribly exciting, even though you breed livestock and speak Latin. I’ve never managed to master that particular language myself. Or anything other than English. French, I’m passable in. Grandmother says a proper lady must speak French.”
Alexandra smiled. Miranda was the first real friend Alexandra ever had. Except for Mrs. Cowries, the housekeeper at Helmsby Abbey. But Mrs. Cowries was at least sixty and more mother than friend.
“You will enjoy Lord Bishop’s presentation very much,” Miranda enthused. “He’s traveled all over the world and brought dozens of exotic animals back with him. My brother knows Lord Bishop quite well. Though I’m not surprised that my grandmother deserted us. She detests lectures but knows how Sutton and I love them.”
Alexandra’s heart leapt at the mention of Lord Cambourne. She folded her hands sedately in her lap and pretended to be engrossed in a fight outside the carriage between an orange girl and a customer.
“I told Sutton to be late. Lord Tasterly is expected to be in attendance. He is absolutely terrified of my brother.” Miranda smoothed her skirts.
Lord Cambourne is attending the lecture? Not usually a fainter, Alexandra wished she could faint now and avoid seeing Lord Cambourne. Her glance flew to her friend’s reticule and wondered if there were smelling salts hidden in its depths. She may need them.
“I was unaware that your brother would be attending.”
Miranda cocked her head and gave a silly laugh. Her eyes, like bits of emerald glass, bored into Alexandra.
“Sutton will likely see us home as well. I do so hope he doesn’t scare away Lord Tasterly. I must confess to a fondness for Lord Tasterly, though Sutton finds him a bore.”
Alexandra’s stomach fluttered uncomfortably. The feeling was like being at the edge of a precipice and wanting to jump. But afraid to take the plunge.
“May I ask you something, Alexandra?”
The fear of seeing Lord Cambourne warred with a light giddiness at the thought of seeing him. She couldn’t breathe. “Yes.” The word snapped at Miranda like a whip.
Miranda sat back and raised one perfectly shaped dark brow. “I hope that you don’t mind me asking, but I am curious about your association with Mr. Runyon. Did he explain his relationship to my family?”
“Yes.” Cautiously, she took a breath, waiting for Miranda to continue. Alexandra hoped she and Miranda could enjoy the outing without the subject of Mr. Runyon popping up, but she saw that was not to be the case. Her hand trembled in her lap. How to explain the situation in such a way that Miranda would understand? Her stomach contracted and not with excitement. The slow hum of a headache made its way through her temples. Would Miranda understand the need Alexandra had to keep Helmsby Abbey safe? Her betrothal could not be kept a secret forever. Mr. Runyon intended to announce their future marriage to everyone at the Marchioness’s birthday ball at Gray Covington, the Cambourne estate, next week.
Miranda was beautiful, titled, and loved. She had a family and possessed several homes. The desperation Alexandra felt would be foreign to her friend. She stifled the bit of jealousy rearing its ugly head as she looked at Miranda. Lord Cambourne’s sister was a vision in light yellow, with tiny peridots dangling from her ears. Did Miranda ever want for anything?
Alexandra cleared her throat and said softy, “Mr. Runyon is courting me.”
Miranda sat back in a whoosh against the squabs. Abruptly, she turned her head to gaze out the coach's window. Gloved hands twisted the reticule in her lap as if she were trying to strangle it.
“Miranda,” Alexandra spoke haltingly, “he has been unfailingly kind to me. My uncle supports the match. I know that there is a…a difference of opinion between him and your family. I truly hope—”
“While I do not know the exact nature of my brother’s dislike, my father shared the feeling. Grandmother forbids Mr. Runyon’s presence at Cambourne House. Over Mother’s objections.”
“Your father and he disagreed, that much I know. I’m sure if Mr. Runyon and your brother sat down—”
Miranda held up her hand, effectively silencing Alexandra. “I wish to hear no more.” Her friend’s expression became thoughtful. “My mother and Archie were raised together, as siblings, even though they are cousins. Ten years separates them. They are much alike. Two peas in a pod.” Miranda stared at Alexandra. “Ask yourself, Alexandra, how you can dislike my mother and not see her in Archie?”
Alexandra murmured a half-hearted protest.
Miranda shook her head. “Something happened to make my brother hate him. There are rumors about Archie. Where there is smoke, there is often fire.”
“What are you saying? He has been nothing but kind to me. A friend where others have not been. What would you have me do?” Alexandra almost revealed that he would return Helmsby Abbey to her.
Miranda, as sharp as the Dowager said, “What has he promised you?”
Alexandra looked away. Miranda’s guess at the truth made her squirm. “Nothing. He is a decent man.” Alexandra looked down into her lap. “I am very sorry you do not approve my choice, Miranda. Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but I am not exactly inundated with offers for my hand. You wouldn’t understand. You who have been given everything.” Alexandra wished the words back the moment they left her lips.
Miranda reacted as if she’d been slapped. Her face became carefully composed, a look no doubt cultivated by the nobility for just such an occasion as this.
“Not everything,” she said quietly. “There is much you do not know about me, Alexandra. But you are right. I do not understand. I would ask you to consider one thing. Understand this is no reflection on you or your social standing. But please ask yourself, Alexandra, why the cousin of the Marchioness of Cambourne cannot find a woman of his class to marry him. He should be inundated with girls eager for a match. Yet, he is not.”
Alexandra’s hackles rose up. Lord Cambourne and his sordid proposition filtered through her mind. The headache rose to a crescendo at the back of her neck, the tentacles of it covering her scalp and piercing her temples.
“It is not your concern, Lady Miranda, whom I wish to befriend, or whom I allow to court me.”
“As you will, Alexandra.” Miranda smiled grimly. “I meant no insult. But you are an intelligent woman. Please start acting like one.” She glanced out the window. “We’re here.”
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of the Royal Exhibition. Alexandra had never been here, but she’d read about it. Her aunt Eloise received some of the London papers and Alexandra read about the adventurers who had lectured here as well as the exotic beasts that were kept as part of the zoo, and the amazing exhibits put together by the Royal Academy of Sciences. The Royal Geographical society gave lectures here on a regular basis and sponsored several expeditions to the jungles of Africa, India, and the Far East. Alexandra wished she were visiting these hallowed halls under better circumstances. The adventure of the day dimmed with Miranda’s condemnation of Alexandra’s association with Mr. Runyon. Alexandra determined she should enjoy herself, no matter the circumstances. There was a treasure trove of knowledge waiting for her inside these walls.
If only she could have some tea for her headache.
The Cambourne footman climbed down from atop the coach and guided the ladies out. As Miranda and Alexandra made their way towards the tall, wooden doors they passed several groups of gentlemen milling around the front of the building. A young boy ran among the men passing out flyers and receiving a coin here and there for his troubles. Miranda gave the boy two coins. She handed a flyer to Alexandra, keeping one for herself.
Miranda took Alexandra’s arm. Her face was perfectly composed, the false sense of gaiety evident in her tone. “Come. You will enjoy this greatly, I promise.”
Alexandra followed her in, a sinking feeling infusing her entire being. It struck her that this may likely be her only visit to the Royal Exhibition with Miranda. Perhaps Mr. Runyon would bring her in the future. The thought of never seeing Miranda after today saddened her. The conversation inside the coach left no room for debate. The Marquess of Cambourne and his family did not tolerate their cousin. That lack of tolerance would extend to Alexandra once she married Mr. Runyon.
The crowd inside the hall was thick where they entered. Alexandra saw several other ladies in attendance, but women were definitely in the minority. A lecture did not take precedence over shopping on Bond Street, it seemed, or making calls. Miranda pulled her along as they moved through a large atrium that comprised the main foyer. Four hallways veered off in separate directions and Miranda led her towards an entrance on the left. The lecture hall. The marble floor vibrated with the footsteps of dozens of people. Titled gentlemen mixed with scholars and well-heeled businessmen swung their walking sticks and chatted with members of the government. Lord Bishop was well known in London and revered for his scientific explorations.
Alexandra paused to push a curl off her cheek. Her neck prickled. Someone was watching her. Scanning the crowd, her eyes lit on a tall dark form. Lord Cambourne. His arms were clasped across his chest and his face carefully devoid of any emotion. But he watched her. His green gaze lingered on her, following her progress with Miranda.
Nervously, she looked away, pretending she didn’t notice him even though her entire body flamed to life. Focusing on a fresco that covered one wall she suspected Miranda saw her brother, but she made no move to greet him. When Alexandra dared look again, Lord Cambourne was gone. Her heart fluttered, and she pressed her free hand to her chest, hoping to ease the sensation.
Miranda drew her into the lecture hall, pointing out a podium situated atop a large wooden stage.
“That is where Lord Bishop will speak, Alexandra.” The lecture hall was of medium size. Rows of chairs lined the interior of the room. Watercolor paintings of exotic birds, some so realistic they seemed to leap off the canvas sat on easels against the walls. Alexandra looked at the paintings in wonder. She could not wait to examine each one in detail.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” Miranda looked at the paintings, mesmerized by the colors and depictions of birds as well. “Lord Bishop is having engravings made for a book. I’ve already ordered a copy from Thrumbadge’s.”
Alexandra nodded in agreement and pointed to a sign that read, ‘Zoological Exhibition of Lord Bishop.’ “Is that where the animals are?”
“Yes, although I’m not sure what is contained within. Sutton did say there were monkeys.”
Alexandra consulted the small pamphlet purchased outside. Lord Bishop’s collection was extensive according to the pamphlet and contained not only monkeys but birds and tropical plants. She rubbed her temple. Her headache throbbed dully, and the closeness of the crowd made her a trifle dizzy. She shook her head to clear it.
Miranda lifted an eyebrow in question then took her arm again, making an effort to match her longer strides to Alexandra’s shorter ones.
“There are my friends, Lord Atkins and his sister, Lady Atkins.” Miranda waved in the direction of an attractive young girl with glasses and a man about Alexandra’s age. “Oh my, and Lord Tasterly.” Miranda blushed furiously, which only served to make her more attractive.
Alexandra watched in amazement as Miranda transformed under Lord Tasterly’s regard. Miranda’s dark lashes slid over her green eyes in a coy manner. She gave the young man a shy smile, so unlike her usual confident grin. Alexandra found her unrecognizable as the chattering bluestocking she adored. Clearly, Lord Tasterly piqued Miranda’s interest.
“Lord Tasterly,” the name escaped Miranda’s lips in a whisper, “is quite handsome, don’t you think, Alexandra?”
Alexandra did indeed find Lord Tasterly attractive. His hair, a dark brown, curled pleasingly around his ears. His gaze, rife with adoration for Miranda, worshipped her from where he stood. He plucked at his neatly trimmed mustache and smiled broadly at Miranda’s approach.
Lady Atkins, dressed in pale yellow and resembling a studious canary, waved furiously to Miranda, motioning her to come forward. “Lady Miranda, I wondered when you would get here. Lady Atkins’s brown eyes shone behind her glasses. “I hoped I would see you before the lecture started. We can all sit together.” Her eyes widened as if in secret code to Miranda. No doubt it had to do with Lord Tasterly.
“Lady Atkins, Lord Atkins, Lord Tasterly.” Miranda greeted the three with a slight nod of her head. Both men bowed to Miranda and Lady Atkins dipped in a small curtsy. Miranda, as the sister of a Marquess, outranked them all.
Lord Tasterly grasped Miranda’s gloved hand and brushed it with his lips. He was clearly delighted to see Miranda. “Lady Miranda. I hoped we would run into each other here. How many times have you told me the story of your brother’s monkey?” His hazel gaze ran down her form in appreciation. “You are as pretty as a rose.”
Miranda blushed again and gave him a coy look. “A rose? Such a common flower. I was hoping I resembled something a bit more exotic.”
Lord Tasterly’s eyes lit up at Miranda’s flirtatious reply.
Lord Cambourne was such a flirt, Alexandra mused. The image of his tall form leaning against the wall in the atrium flashed through her mind. Stubbornly she pushed him away. She must not think of him. She was to be married to a lovely man. Her gut clenched painfully. A simply lovely man.
“May I present my friend, Miss Dunforth.” Miranda introduced her.
Lady Atkins and Lord Tasterly greeted her politely. Lord Atkins held her hand a moment longer than necessary. He winked at her, squeezing her fingers tight.
Shocked at his forward behavior, she looked to see if Miranda or Lady Atkins noticed. No one was watching. The two ladies listened to Lord Tasterly with rapt attention as he led them to a row of chairs.
“May I, Miss Dunforth?” Lord Atkins made a sweeping gesture, allowing her to follow the trio ahead of him.
Alexandra walked carefully up the aisle. Lord Atkins’s stare bored into her back. Something about the man filled her with trepidation.
“Ladies,” Lord Tasterly said from up ahead, “let us sit.” He directed Miranda and Lady Atkins into a row of seats.
Lord Atkins moved swiftly from behind Alexandra and put himself next to Lord Tasterly, seating Alexandra next to the aisle and furthest away from the other two women. He waited until she was seated and said, “Dunforth, I’m certain I’ve heard the name bandied about.”
Alexandra gave Lord Atkins a confused look. She was certain they had never met. He didn’t look the least familiar. If his sister was a friend of Miranda’s, possibly Alexandra had been introduced to him.
“Lord Atkins, I am at a disadvantage. Have we met?” Alexandra’s mouth was dry as cotton and it gave her voice a raspy quality. She was terribly thirsty. She could do with a cup of tea. Lord Atkins made her very uncomfortable.
Lord Atkins leered at her. He assessed her bodice with shocking frankness. “But I know you, Miss Dunforth.” He whispered into her ear. “I’ve met your uncle at the gaming tables. What a terrible faro player he is, but you likely knew that. I’m a business associate of Mr. Runyon. His eyes roved over her body, resettling on her bosom. “You don’t look the type, truth be told.” He smacked his lips.
Alexandra pursed her lips. “And what type is that, Lord Atkins?” Her temples throbbed. She waited for his answer even though she wanted to sprint as fast as she could from this disturbing conversation.
“The type that Mr. Runyon likes.” He winked again. “You’ve the look of an innocent about you. I must say, I find it quite desirable as well. That bodes well for any future acquaintance, don’t you think?”
Alexandra sat, stunned into silence. What did he refer to? The words and tone spoke of depravity, as did the way he continued to look at the tops of her breasts. The urge to flee became stronger. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, Lord Atkins. I find your tone overfamiliar.”
“No need to be distressed, Miss Dunforth.” His fingertips grazed her knee.
Alexandra jumped. She shrank back from Lord Atkins.
“I meant no offense.” His voice was smooth and reassuring. “Mr. Runyon and I have similar tastes. There’s no need to pretend shyness around me. You should look on me as a friend. I would certainly never betray Mr. Runyon’s confidence.” Lord Atkins’s stare, his eyes like black pebbles, hardened on her.
What was he insinuating? Her hands trembled. “If you don’t mind, Lord Bishop is walking towards the podium and I would like to listen to his lecture.”
Lord Atkins chuckled softly. “As you will, Miss Dunforth. It wouldn’t do for the others to get wind of anything would it?” He threw a look at Miranda. “Especially Lady Miranda, the daughter of Mr. Runyon’s dear cousin.” He turned and faced the podium.
The dread mixed with the smothering feeling of despair reared up again, this time nearly suffocating her. Alexandra’s hand twitched in her lap. She stood, her knees nearly buckling underneath her.
Lord Atkins didn’t spare her a glance. She saw the hint of a smile on his lips. Her distress amused him.
Miranda’s head peeked around Lord Tasterly. “Miss Dunforth? Are you going somewhere? Lord Bishop is about to begin.”
“I simply need refreshment. My throat is quite dry. I believe I saw a lemon ice vendor in the atrium. I shall return promptly.” Her voice stammered out of her, sounding guttural as she choked on her words. Fear and despair mixed until it formed a large stone sitting in her chest. If she stayed, she would not be able to breathe. Lord Atkins’s comments made her ill. Doomed. Trapped like some wild animal. Perhaps she could catch a hackney outside. Home. Tea. She wanted nothing more.
Miranda rose to accompany her.
Alexandra put up a hand to stay her. “I’ll just be a moment, Lady Miranda. Please don’t fret.” Alexandra flicked a glance at Lord Tasterly, who was watching Lord Bishop mount the podium. “Besides, you’ll miss the lecture.”
Miranda sat back down. “I don’t know where Sutton is. If you see him, tell my brother I’ve saved him a seat.” She patted a chair to her left.
Lord Tasterly turned his attention from Lord Bishop. His pleasant expression disappeared and his face paled. “Lord Cambourne is joining us?”
“Yes of course. You didn’t expect us to be without escort, did you?” Miranda gave a shy chuckle, turning from Alexandra.
It was all the distraction Alexandra needed. She stood and fled down the aisle. Sliding through the walnut doors at the end of the room, she found herself back in the foyer. Sun shone through the skylight above her. Devoid of the crowd, the foyer was quiet, even peaceful. Now, she need only avoid Lord Cambourne.
Alexandra turned towards the main entrance. Lord Cambourne might be lurking just outside. Her gaze flicked to the right. A sign for the Ladies Necessary Room sat prominently displayed, so she turned. Miranda would search for her there if Alexandra did not return to the lecture hall. The corridor to the left had a sign posted before it. ‘Exhibition of the Flora and Fauna Discovered by Lord Bishop.’ She spun on her heel and made for the exhibition. A back entrance could be found there. She would make her escape and hail a hackney.
Her temples ached. She needed her tea. Lord Atkins’s words rang in her head. Miranda’s pained expression in the carriage flashed before her eyes. Her thoughts jumbled. She could not make a connection between the two incidents.
Turning the corner, the familiar musky smell of animals and hay assailed her nostrils. The aroma comforted her. Calmed her. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine herself in the barn at Helmsby Abbey. Tears welled in her eyes. She wanted to go home. After her marriage, Alexandra intended to take the first coach to Hampshire. Mr. Runyon promised.
Alexandra marveled at the transformation of this section of the Exhibition Hall. Plants abounded from various corners, their pots cleverly hidden to give the appearance of walking into a jungle. Rich, earthy aromas filled the air. The hall was deserted. According to the pamphlet, Lord Bishop would lead a guided tour into this part of the exhibition after his lecture. Alexandra moved forward, taking a deep breath. The urge to flee lessened.
A loud screech made her jump. Clasping hands to her heart, she laughed at her own foolishness. The screech came from the cage before her. Cautiously, so as not to startle the inhabitant of the cage, she tiptoed closer.
A mass of palm fronds wiggled back and forth, quivering as if someone or something hid behind them. The fronds jiggled wildly, batted by an unseen hand.
Entranced, Alexandra moved until her nose nearly touched the cage bars. Then she stood still.
Curious black button eyes peered at her from behind a frond.
Alexandra smiled.
The eyes disappeared. Two tiny brown hands clutched the frond. The frond shook.
“Hello, little man.” Alexandra whispered.
A small face emerged. Covered with dark fur, the eyes outlined in black, the expression on the face was one of interest.
Alexandra forgot about leaving in her desire to examine the monkey. She unrolled the pamphlet she still clutched in her hand slowly, not wanting to frighten the animal. The pamphlet contained illustrations of various animals Lord Bishop had collected for the exhibition. She flipped several pages until she found the engraving she sought.
“There you are.” Alexandra gave her friend a tiny triumphant smile. “You are a capuchin monkey.”
One small hand, the fingers tiny and black, rose up and reached towards Alexandra.
Alexandra held her breath.
The animal chattered. The hand retreated.
She thought back to the story of Jonas, Lord Cambourne’s monkey who smoked opium and wore a hat. That seemed a lifetime ago. Pain lanced through her breast. The panic returned, along with fear and loneliness. She sucked in a breath. Alexandra rarely cried, but in the last few weeks the urge to do so was with her daily. If she burst into tears, only her new friend, the monkey, would witness her lack of composure.
“I am so sorry you are in a cage.”
The monkey’s head bobbed in agreement.
“If I could, I would set you free. But then, you would be alone in London, with no one to help you.” She wiggled a gloved finger at the animal. “I know what that feels like. I would not wish that for you, my friend.” She put a hand to her mouth, trying to stem the anguish erupting from her lips “I miss my home as well.” Her voice broke.
The monkey blinked at her. A chirp of sympathy came out of the animal’s mouth. Suddenly the monkey screeched loudly and disappeared into the foliage of the cage.
Disappointed, Alexandra watched the monkey’s retreat, her heart aching. She was so immersed in her own sadness she didn’t hear the footsteps behind her.
“Alex.”
