Wickeds Scandal by Kathleen Ayers

9

Alexandra thought she would burst into tears right in the middle of Thrumbadge’s. She rarely cried. Lord Cambourne, that conceited titled ass, had made her chest ache and tears well in her eyes. He didn’t deserve to see her cry. Rake. Despoiler of women. Dear God, she’d practically allowed him to ruin her. How could she have allowed him such liberties? His mistress. Did he know how incredibly insulting that was?

I deserve some respect. I realize I am only a spinster from Hampshire, with no great connections to recommend me, but does he really think so little of me?

That’s what hurt the most. He’d almost convinced her that he desired her. Liked her, even. Aunt Eloise had warned her about men like Lord Cambourne.

“Miss Dunforth? It’s time we left.”

Oh no.

Alexandra, still trying to stack her books, heard Mr. Runyon approach. His footsteps stopped abruptly. He cleared his throat.

She looked up in time to see Mr. Runyon pale as his features hardened into a mask of cold dislike. The cordial gentleman who escorted her to Thrumbadge’s earlier disappeared. A vein in his temple pulsed, bulging a dark blue. His lips curled into a murderous sneer.

“Hello, Archie. What a surprise to see you here. In London. I thought you had exiled yourself to the Continent,” Lord Cambourne drawled in a voice thick with distaste.

A chill ran down Alexandra’s arms. Lord Cambourne sounded so foreign.

Mr. Runyon’s fingers grasped her upper arm.

“I missed being in the bosom of my family, Cam.” Mr. Runyon looked down at Alexandra. “I wondered where you had gotten off to, my dear.” He emphasized the last word, making it sound intimate.

“I see you know the delightful Miss Dunforth.”

Lord Cambourne raised a dark brow at her. “How interesting.” His body tensed like a deadly jungle cat about to pounce on its prey.

Miranda’s mouth hung open. Her gaze never left Mr. Runyon. She clutched her brother’s forearm tightly.

“Yes, Miss Dunforth and I are birds of a feather.” Mr. Runyon smiled at Lord Cambourne, a smile that did not reach his eyes.

Two pairs of emerald-green eyes flicked over Alexandra. Miranda’s held surprise, Lord Cambourne’s, a look of disgust.

Mr. Runyon implied something with his words. She supposed he meant she shared a love of books.

Lord Cambourne’s mouth formed into a grim line. A muscle ticked in his cheek. The air around the two men was thick and black with tension, the heaviness suffocating Alexandra. A dull ache started at the back of her head. She wanted her tea. Urgently.

“I dropped my books.” She swallowed, desperate to diffuse the hostility emanating from both men. “And-”

“I found Miss Dunforth lying in a heap!” Miranda lied smoothly. “Thank goodness I saw you, Miss Dunforth. You could have injured yourself.” She walked confidently to Alexandra and knelt to assist her.

Alexandra noticed Miranda gave Mr. Runyon a wide berth, walking as far from him as she could, not even allowing the silk of her skirts near him.

“Mother didn’t tell us you were in town.” Miranda spoke to Mr. Runyon in a frigidly polite tone Alexandra didn’t recognize. “Forgive our surprise.”

“Yes, Archie.” Lord Cambourne snapped. “Perhaps you’ll come for tea. My grandmother will no doubt be delighted to see you.” He smiled grimly at Mr. Runyon. “Alas, you’ll miss Elizabeth. She’s away at boarding school.” His tone was ominous and deadly.

Alexandra sensed something hidden behind his words.

Mr. Runyon jerked immediately, almost pulling Alexandra over as she attempted to stand. She gave him a questioning look. He is afraid of Lord Cambourne.

“Miranda, we need to return home and leave Miss Dunforth and Archie to their…pursuits.” Lord Cambourne looked directly at Mr. Runyon.

Miranda stood, backing smoothly away from Alexandra. “I shall see you soon, Miss Dunforth.”

“Possibly you will see her.” Mr. Runyon snarled. “Miss Dunforth and I are quite busy. She is newly arrived in London and I am showing her the sights. What free time I have is devoted to my business pursuits. I am stretched to make time for my dear cousin’s birthday celebration.” Mr. Runyon’s pale slim hand gripped the wolf’s head atop his walking stick so tightly Alexandra imagined the ruby-red eyes of the beast bulging and popping out.

Lord Cambourne smiled wryly. “Pity. I should so adore discussing old times with you. My father, before he passed away, regaled me with tales of your adventures in London while I was in Macao.”

Mr. Runyon blanched, becoming even paler as Lord Cambourne spoke. Alexandra could see a fine mist of sweat collecting just above his perfectly groomed mustache. She could smell his fear.

“Miranda?” Lord Cambourne gently steered his sister away from Alexandra and Mr. Runyon. His face held a contemptuous look. “I shall look forward to seeing you at Jeanette’s party.” The dark head nodded to her. “Miss Dunforth. You should be careful where you step in the future.” He turned and strode away. Miranda hurried next to him, struggling to keep up with his long strides.

Mr. Runyon watched them depart. He sighed deeply, his body visibly relaxing as Lord Cambourne departed. He turned to regard Alexandra, and a sad smile came over his features. “Come along, my dear.” Mr. Runyon took the books from her, tucking them under his arm, and steered her to a waiting clerk.

The scene Alexandra just witnessed replayed in her mind. Mr. Runyon and Lord Cambourne obviously knew each other. Hated each other. She wondered what had occurred between the two men to create such animosity. She thought of the look Lord Cambourne gave her before he walked away. His green eyes had been filled with utter contempt. His attitude angered her. His treatment of her was unwarranted no matter his issue with Mr. Runyon. And how exactly did the two men know and despise each other? “Mr. Runyon? What is the nature of your association with Lord Cambourne, if I may ask?”

Mr. Runyon hiccupped. He cleared his throat as his shoulders sagged in defeated despair.

Alexandra touched his sleeve. She didn’t wish to upset him further, but she needed to know. “Forgive me for asking, but—”

He stopped walking. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief, blotting his eyes. “I am sorry, Miss Dunforth. I am so sorry for that dreadful scene you witnessed and my ungentlemanly behavior. Pray forgive my loss of composure.”

“It’s none of my affair.” She gave his arm a squeeze. The poor man looked wrung out like a damp napkin. “Let’s just go back to my uncle’s. A cup of tea will restore your composure.” She waited as Mr. Runyon paid the clerk for the books. The clerk took his time wrapping their purchase and Alexandra took a moment to scan the bookstore for any sign of Lord Cambourne and Miranda. Why did she feel the need to clarify her association with Mr. Runyon to Lord Cambourne? Her mind whispered back. Because you care what Lord Cambourne thinks of you.

“Shall we?” Mr. Runyon thanked the clerk and moved Alexandra towards the entrance.

“You have a right to know.” Mr. Runyon stopped just outside the door.

Alexandra looked up at him. He looked sincere and very, very sad.

“Cam, or Lord Cambourne as you know him,” he said, “is the stepson of my beloved cousin, Jeanette.”

Alexandra swallowed hard. The Marchioness, that horrid woman who interrupted her tea with the Dowager at Cambourne House, was Mr. Runyon’s cousin? The resemblance, once she looked for it, was strikingly clear. Mr. Runyon and the Marchioness shared the same pale blue eyes and identical heads of wheat-colored hair.

“So, Cam and I are cousins of a sort,” Mr. Runyon continued. “I have not seen Lord Cambourne for many years, not since before he left for Macao. I fear that Cam and his family do not think too highly of me. I had a misunderstanding with Robert, that’s Lord Cambourne’s father.” Mr. Runyon’s eyes began to fill with tears again. “Robert was a horrible man.” He winced. “I’m so sorry to speak ill of the dead, Miss Dunforth, but he always blamed others for his own failings. At any rate, I had only returned to my father’s good graces when Robert felt the need to give my father details of what he considered my character flaws. Very embarrassing. Humiliating. Robert harbored an insane jealousy of my relationship with Jeanette.” He shrugged. “He loved my cousin madly. I fear it unhinged him. He treated her terribly. Cam treated her even worse. She tried to be a real mother to him. He threw all of her efforts back in her face. She cried on my shoulder many an afternoon. She so wanted to be a true mother to Cam.

Alexandra thought of the cold, hard woman she met at Cambourne House. Mr. Runyon seemed to be speaking of someone else entirely.

He patted her hand and gave another sad smile. “I do not wish to say much, for I am trying to put the past behind me. I tried to protect Cam, you know. We are only a few years apart in age, but worlds apart in every other way. While I studied, he seduced women and fought duels bringing dishonor to his family. Cam is a devil with women. His looks, you know.” He shot Alexandra a speculative look. “You can imagine the pain his escapades brought my cousin. She caught him in an indelicate situation.” Mr. Runyon looked away. “I tried to help him. He fled to Macao soon after. Robert blamed me for that, I’m afraid. He waited for years to make me pay. The next time he and I butted heads it was quite a row. I decided to tour the Continent soon after.”

Alexandra’s stomach twisted in knots. Mr. Runyon’s assessment of Lord Cambourne’s character did not ring false. Unfortunately, all the pieces fit. If Lord Cambourne truly wished her company, he would seek her out. Instead, he attempted to seduce her when he chanced upon her. Likely, his treatment of her after the appearance of Mr. Runyon was nothing more than irritation at having his seduction interrupted. She clutched at her stomach. The ache in her head spread to envelope her entire body. Silly spinster from Hampshire. Lord Cambourne almost had her believe he held her in some esteem. If you thought that being offered the position of mistress meant you were well thought of.

She had misjudged Lord Cambourne’s character and perhaps she’d also judged Lady Cambourne too harshly. Mr. Runyon clearly adored his cousin and had no reason to lie. If what Mr. Runyon told her was true, Alexandra could forgive Lady Cambourne her coldness.

Mr. Runyon looked at her in expectation.

“I am so sorry, Mr. Runyon, for what you have suffered.” Alexandra offered comfort, chiding herself for allowing Lord Cambourne to take her mind off of her objective, the safety of Helmsby Abbey. She truly felt sorry for Mr. Runyon, but she must not allow herself to involve herself too deeply out of pity. She pressed fingertips to her temples. She felt a bit dizzy.

“I can see my tale has distressed you.” Mr. Runyon took her arm and instructed the clerk to deliver the books to Lord Burke’s address. He walked her to the carriage, concern etched in his features. “I shall never forgive myself if you become ill over these events.” Gently, he placed her in the carriage.

Tilda snored in the corner, barely stirring as Mr. Runyon followed Alexandra in.

“Mr. Runyon.” Alexandra spoke across the seat from him, “please do not distress yourself, you are not the culprit. It is just a headache. I have them sometimes.” She reached over and gently took his hand. “I admire your fortitude in trying to put the past behind you.”

Mr. Runyon gave her a half-hearted smile as if a heavy weight lifted from his shoulders. “You are a treasure, Miss Dunforth. I am blessed to have a companion such as you. I am hopeful that once you and I are married, my father and I can mend our breach. I feel certain you are the instrument of my redemption.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “Perhaps even Cam and I can be in the same room together, if not friends. Nothing would make my cousin happier.”

Alexandra stole a look out the window. She felt doubly terrible now that she used him for her own convenience. He would be devastated. But she must push on. For Helmsby Abbey.

* * *

That had been nearly tooeasy. Archibald Runyon sat back in his carriage after escorting Alexandra inside Burke’s townhouse and congratulated himself. What a boon to have Cam and his worthless sister confront him at Thrumbadge’s today. He couldn’t have planned it better himself. Alexandra barely needed a push to accept that Cam and his father, were the reasons Archie was reviled. His little pigeon was so trusting! Adorable! Cam’s reputation as the great Satan Reynolds, which Archie wisely cultivated had paid huge dividends. He clapped his gloved hands in delight.

Reaching into his vest pocket he pulled out Alexandra’s note to Mr. Meechum. Calmly he ripped it into tiny pieces and tossed them to flutter over his head. The creamy paper landed in a muddy puddle and disappeared from view. Listening to Alexandra rattle on about beloved servants and such today was tiring and a trifle boring. But it had given him an idea.

His beautiful little Hampshire rose. That buffoon, Lord Burke, claimed Alexandra to be plain and devoid of any feminine attributes. Burke was an idiot. True, she was no conventional beauty, but he found conventional beauty to be tiresome. She certainly could never hold a candle to his beloved Jeanette. Few women could. And there was the bonus of Alexandra’s innocence. She was pure. Untouched. Innocence in women was to be relished. He loved to be the person to shake the gentle perceptions of a young woman, defile and degrade her. Introduce her to perversions she didn’t know she desired.

His delicious thoughts of Alexandra faded away as he thought of Cam. How he hated the man. Cam’s baiting made it clear that Lord Robert Cambourne, before dying, confessed everything to his son. Damn Robert. Jeanette convinced herself that Robert would become malleable if only she bore a son. Well, Archie sniffed, she didn’t. Just daughters. Leaving only one heir to Cambourne.

Archie stretched his slender fingers inside the fine leather of his gloves. He bet that Alexandra did not spill her books by chance. Miranda, that chattering simpleton, did not just happen upon Miss Dunforth in need. Archie stroked the wolf’s head absently. He saw the way Cam looked at Miss Dunforth. The thought of Cam’s pain when Archie married Miss Dunforth was simply delicious. Imagine! The great Satan Reynolds enamored of a virgin, a bluestocking from Hampshire no less. Incredible. Wait until he told Jeanette.

He leaned back into the leather squabs of his carriage and contemplated the delicate bones of Alexandra’s hands. Her hands were so small, her wrists so slender he would need to have special cuffs made for her. He couldn’t risk Alexandra slipping out of them at an inopportune moment.

Archie thought of the beautiful leather crop he had fashioned in Italy. Long narrow strands sprung from the top of the crop, each ending in a small glass bead. The handle of the crop was made to fit his hand perfectly, so as not to lose the grip when the crop was being used. Just today he tried it out on the downstairs maid, a drab little girl who dutifully submitted to him. He imagined it was Alexandra beneath him the entire time. His elderly father would adore Alexandra. Archie would finally appease the old toad and return to his rightful position in the family.

And Archie would be appeased as well. The idea of buying a woman and making her a slave to his needs held much appeal. Alexandra’s intelligence challenged him, which would make the breaking of her spirit that much more exquisite. He planned all types of activities after their marriage. Once she broke, his friends could use her. Archie would watch. He would beat her, pulling back the dark curls of Alexandra’s hair so hard, a scream would come out of her luscious mouth. He needed to be careful. He didn’t want her too bruised. He imagined Alexandra’s firm plump bottom, pushed towards him. Archie felt himself grow hard just thinking about it. He rapped on the top of the carriage.

“Take me to Madame LeFleur’s.” His coachman acknowledged the command with an abrupt turn, heading toward the direction of the most notorious brothel in London. Madame LeFleur would have forgiven him by now for that unfortunate incident. It had been years ago when Archie had less control of his emotions. The girl, no more than fourteen, had balked at all his suggestions for play. It wasn’t Archie’s fault her neck snapped. He hoped Madame LeFleur hired sturdier whores now.