Page 17 of A Lesson in Scandal (Tales from The Burnished Jade #1)

Chapter Seventeen

Reid usually woke at dawn with a long list of the day’s appointments running through his head. He usually whipped back the bedsheets, the chill air getting his blood pumping, jolting him into action.

His blood was pumping fast this morning, but he was nestled between his wife’s silken thighs, holding her hands above her head as he filled her to the hilt.

“Reid,” she gasped, his name a throaty moan on her lips.

God, he loved hearing her needy pants.

He loved the way an innocent kiss set them both ablaze. That she desired him with a passion that defied logic, too. He loved that her hair was a tangled mess on the pillow. That she was happy in her own skin and nothing mattered more than sharing these intimate moments.

He loved the arousing mix of fire and tenderness in her eyes. He loved … He loved her.

He stilled mid-stroke, questioning the thought, though the feeling lived in his heart, not his head. It ran through his veins, challenging his rigid beliefs.

She held his gaze. “What’s wrong? Did you remember something important about the case?”

He laughed, his cock jerking inside her. “The case? You’re all I think about when we’re alone like this.”

His days began and ended with her.

He’d seen this level of devotion before: a kiss that lingered, the rush to dress after spending too long in bed. That grand love affair had ended tragically. He couldn’t bear the thought that might be their future, too.

He bent his head and kissed her madly, lust a drug that had him hot and hard and throbbing, eager to climax after making her come twice already.

Lust failed to suppress the sudden wave of emotion every time he drove into her. It didn’t stop fear creeping into his heart when he considered what he could lose. Or how the hell he would tell his wife he’d fallen in love with her when he’d promised her a life without complications.

He released her hands, knowing she couldn’t resist the urge to touch him, and every caress would distract his mind. The minx rocked with him, her fingers digging into his back, then his buttocks, her tight pink nipples grazing his chest.

He withdrew quickly, spilling himself over her abdomen as they’d agreed, neither wanting to raise a child in a convenient marriage.

“I’ll fetch a cloth.” The power of her gaze burned him as he strode naked to the washstand. He didn’t want to fool himself into thinking he’d seen something tender in her intelligent green eyes. “Prepare yourself. The water is cold.”

A giggle followed her shocked gasp as he wiped the evidence of their lovemaking. He considered crawling into bed beside her and shutting the world out but had patients to see this morning. And Turner would want to know why Hickman had missed work two days in a row.

They were dressed, had eaten boiled eggs and toast, and were in the dispensary when Turner arrived. As expected, he noted Hickman’s absence and came looking for answers.

Sofia smiled. “Good morning, Mr Turner. There’s coffee in the pot and toast in the rack if you’d like some.”

Turner thanked her. “I can help myself.”

She made an excuse about looking out for the delivery boy and left them alone.

The rising ache of betrayal returned when Reid mentioned his secretary’s name. “I need you to clear Hickman’s desk and have his things sent to him in Stanhope Street. We have a vacancy for a secretary. You may know someone who’s interested in the position. I welcome any suggestions.”

Stunned and confused, Turner said, “Why? Is he struggling to cope?”

With a heavy heart, Reid explained the encounter outside Antoine’s. “Your father always said Hickman was a liability. I’m sure he said the same to you.”

“No. Father spent more time testing my knowledge than discussing personal matters.” Turner’s sigh seemed to carry the weight of the world. “Even though I dine alone now, I still find myself reciting the method for tying a tourniquet without risking gangrene.”

Reid felt the sour sting of regret. He had neglected Turner while trying to ease his own suffering.

“Like your father, you’ve always been hardworking and dependable. I’ve left you to cope here while busy with personal affairs.” He gripped Turner’s shoulder in a gesture of brotherly affection. “I’m sorry for taking you for granted.”

Turner nodded and smiled like all was forgiven.

“I just wish you’d confided in me about Miss Moorland’s predicament. I would have been happy to help.” Turner glanced at the dispensary door before dropping his voice. “Your view of romantic relationships is hardly a secret. I just hope you don’t live to regret your decision. Especially in light of your grandfather’s disapproval.”

The comment roused Reid’s ire.

He didn’t want or need Turner’s opinion on his marriage.

But he wasn’t cruel or unfeeling and so said, “Sofia is my priority now. I’ll do everything in my power to honour my vows.”

“Of course. You always rise to a challenge.”

They moved to the topic of Hickman’s replacement. Turner suggested employing someone young, preferably a doctor who had trained at Guy’s. “They’re eager to learn and modern in their thinking, and we need someone who can do more than shuffle papers.”

“Agreed.” Reid had been too lenient with Hickman and felt like a damn fool. He was grateful he had one dependable employee. “Perhaps we could discuss it over supper tonight and a long soak in a mineral bath at Porretta’s.”

Every muscle in his body ached. And once he’d visited Algernon this afternoon, he would need to ease his mind and calm his temper.

Turner’s first thought was Sofia. “Leaving Mrs Gentry here alone would be unwise. What if the robber returns?”

Cursed saints!

Reid wasn’t an imbecile.

Sofia would always be his first thought, too.

“We were invited to a recital at The Burnished Jade tonight. Mrs Gentry will spend an evening with friends, and we’ll put the world to rights at Porretta’s.” It was Sofia’s idea.

Turner nodded. “It will be good to get back to normality. We could dine at the Adelphi.”

“I prefer the Clarendon. It’s closer to the bathhouse.” At the Clarendon, Reid wouldn’t spend the entire evening imagining making love to Sofia upstairs.

It was four o’clock that afternoon when Reid dropped Sofia at The Burnished Jade, kissed her and promised to return for her at ten that evening—once he’d smoothed things over with Turner.

First, he had to tackle his cousin Algernon.

Indeed, he sat outside his Uncle Edmund’s house in Portman Street, glancing at the elegant facade, wishing he could tie a noose around his cousin’s neck and hang him from the wrought-iron balcony. Instead, he would present the facts and inform Algernon he’d been seen murdering a man at the Hare and Hounds on the Barking Road.

“The evidence against Algernon is mounting,” Daventry had said when they visited him earlier that day. “Show him the scorecard. Tell him there’s more than one eyewitness. Let’s see what he does next.”

Doyle, Francois and Mrs Ludgrove could identify him. The French waiter agreed to meet with an artist to sketch the villain’s likeness.

Reid alighted and knocked on the door.

A tense blend of anger and unease churned inside him. Knowing he might face his uncle only magnified his discomfort.

“Mr Gentry?” The ageing butler stumbled in shock as their gazes met. “Good day, sir. This is a welcome surprise.”

“Hello, Redfern. Am I permitted to cross the threshold?”

As a young man, Reid had spent countless hours at his uncle’s house. That changed when he came of age. Their relationship had been in a slow yet steady decline ever since.

“Of course, sir.” Redfern stepped back and welcomed him into the grand hall. “Might I take your hat, sir?”

Reid removed his beaver and straightened his hair. “Keep it close. I doubt I’ll be longer than five minutes. That’s assuming my cousin agrees to see me.”

Redfern inclined his head. “I shall enquire on your behalf, sir.”

The butler entered Uncle Edmund’s study, hushed whispers preceding his return. “Your uncle is home and asks that you join him for coffee or brandy, sir.”

Despite a gnawing reluctance, Reid agreed. “If I’m to tolerate my uncle, I’ll have brandy.”

Edmund Gentry did not rise from the chair behind his imposing desk. He stared at Reid over steepled fingers and echoed the butler’s sentiment. “Well, this is a surprise.”

The sting of grief stole Reid’s breath. With a swathe of brown hair and piercing blue eyes, Edmund bore such a striking resemblance to Reid’s father it was like looking at a ghost.

“I’m not here to bring glad tidings.”

“No, I don’t expect you are.”

Redfern entered, carrying two glasses of brandy on a salver.

Edmund motioned for him to set their refreshments on the desk, adding a curt instruction to close the door behind him. “Your father and I used to steal brandy from the decanter as boys and replace it with cold tea.”

Reid sat in the chair opposite his uncle, grateful for the solid mahogany barrier between them. “I imagine it wasn’t long before Grandfather found out.”

“He knew before we’d taken the first sip but enjoyed playing us off against each other. Keen to test which one of us had the looser tongue.”

“Who did?”

Edmund laughed. “Me, of course. Your father had nerves of steel.”

Anger flared at the compliment. “My father’s loyalty was brittle where his courage was strong.”

Edmund found his response amusing. “Yet the opposite might be said of you. One wonders why you live with an old man and not in the house your father bequeathed you.”

Reid snatched the crystal glass and knocked back the brandy. “I’ve seen the damage disloyalty can do.” In living with his grandfather, he’d hoped to prove he was not as faithless as his father. “But you’re mistaken. I’m currently living above the practice with my wife.”

Absorbing the news, Edmund sat bolt upright, intrigue alight in his sharp eyes. “In that pokey room? How interesting.”

“I’m yet to give the tenants in Jermyn Street notice.”

“When the devil did you marry?”

“Three days ago, in the chapel at Studland Park.”

Edmund covered his mouth with his hand and laughed. “No wonder you’re here. The pieces are falling into place. If your wife is happy to live above the practice, she’s not a peer’s daughter.”

“Sofia is my herbalist.”

Edmund threw himself back in the chair and raised his hands in mock surrender. “Then accept my humble apology. You have your father’s gumption after all.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’ve finally opened your eyes and defied your gaoler. I suspect the viscount”—disdain dripped from the last word—“is baffled. He thought he had you chained securely in your cell.”

Edmund is bitter because I favour you over Algernon .

His grandfather’s remark sprang to mind.

Your uncle was jealous of your father and he’s jealous of you.

“Grandfather is not my gaoler.” Yet he heard an echo of doubt in his own protest. “I studied medicine when he demanded I study land management. We battled for months when I left Cambridge.”

“That’s how conditional love works. You think you won the war, but it’s all part of a master plan to control you.”

Edmund is so resentful he makes up stories in his head.

“Perhaps you’re delusional. We’ve barely spoken these last five years, and now you’re lecturing me on naivety.”

Yet what if his life was an illusion?

One created by a master of deception.

Edmund must have read his mind. “That’s the mark of a skilled captor. The victims are clueless until they try to escape. I imagine he said vile things and made you believe I despise you.”

“He said you were jealous of my father.”

Edmund tossed back his brandy and grinned. “Damn right. He chose his bride and lived his own life while I was bound by the ropes of primogeniture.” Edmund opened his desk drawer with the key tucked inside his waistcoat pocket. He withdrew a small stack of letters bound with black ribbon and tossed them to Reid. “But I always loved and admired my brother. We were in constant contact until the day he died.”

Reid stared at the letters, confused. “But you made it clear I wasn’t welcome here.”

“Yes, to save all our necks. I needed him to think I believed the vile things he’d said about you.”

Bile bubbled in Reid’s stomach. “Vile things?”

“That you’re as conniving as your father. You don’t really care about medicine because your goal is to claim the viscountcy when he’s dead. He told me to send Algernon away. Why do you think he’s been on his third Grand Tour? I was told you could kill a man with a potion, and no one would know it was you.”

Reid shrank in the chair in disbelief.

Deep down he knew it was true.

He’d never earned his grandfather’s approval.

“That’s why he persuaded you to care for him at the house. So he could keep a watchful eye on you.” Edmund pushed the letters closer to Reid. “Keep them. I’ve been waiting for you to see the light. But we must tread carefully and ensure every move is tactical.”

Reid shifted in the leather seat. His vision blurred. The solid world he’d embraced after losing his parents was a lie. He’d been living in a quagmire. Every step potentially treacherous.

“I suppose he’s angry you didn’t take a bride of his choosing,” Edmund said.

“I followed in my father’s footsteps and married a commoner. They’re my grandfather’s words, not mine.”

“There was nothing common about your mother,” Edmund snapped. “Few people possess a heart so pure. It’s why your father loved her. He loved her until his dying day.”

The remark took the wind out of Reid’s sails.

“Of course, that was inconvenient,” Edmund continued.

“Inconvenient?”

“It’s all in the letters. Whatever you do, don’t let him know you’ve read them. Now you’ve married beneath you—my father’s words, not mine—you no longer serve a purpose.”

Reid sat in stupefied silence.

He wished Sofia were here.

The mere touch of her hand, the light brush of her lips over his, made everything right.

“Redfern said you came to see Algernon. Are you the cause of his cut lip?”

“He said something vile about my mother.”

Edmund paled. He sat straight, concern marring his countenance. “The viscount is using Bretton Hall to get Algernon to do his bidding. You must see beyond what seems obvious.”

Uncertainty gripped him.

He didn’t know who or what to believe anymore.

He reached for the stack of letters, sliding the top one from the pile. It was dated a month before his father died. The tone was friendly, yet fearful for the future. His father signed the letter by asking Edmund to watch over his family.

“Thank you for these.” Reid tucked them away in his pocket. “My mother burnt all my father’s letters when she learnt he had a mistress.”

Edmund arched a brow. “Did he have a mistress? Or was it part of an evil man’s plan to gain control of a young boy?” He didn’t give Reid time to absorb the veiled accusation. “Whatever your gripe with Algernon, it’s based on lies.”

Reid shook himself and tried to focus on the real reason he’d come. “I need to see Algernon’s scorecard for the wager he’s taking part in at White’s. Someone is attempting to frame me for murder. All evidence points to my cousin.”

Edmund’s calm demeanour vanished as he shot out of the chair. “The boy is a hare-brained fool, but he’s not a murderer. Good God! Surely you know that. The viscount has gone too far this time.” He yelled for Redfern but remained frozen in outrage as he awaited the butler. “Have Algernon join us in the study. Tell him to bring his scorecard for that stupid wager at White’s.”

Redfern left.

A clawing silence ensued.

“What other evidence is there?” Edmund barked.

“Witnesses described him and his double-tasselled boots. He bought laudanum from the same apothecary used to drug and kill my patients. All widows in their fifties being used by selfish men trying to win a bet. He killed the man who saw him drug one patient and left my calling card at the scene.”

Edmund stumbled and fell into the chair. “He wants you to inherit the viscountcy. He wants you running Chatham Park. Is your wife with child?”

His uncle was rambling.

“No.” Panic tightened Reid’s throat. A few months ago, he might have accused his uncle of being dramatic. Now he knew better.

Algernon entered, his brown hair unkempt, his trousers creased like he’d been sleeping in a chair. He looked at Reid and staggered back. “What the devil do you want?”

“Where’s your scorecard?” Edmund cried.

“Upstairs.”

“Fetch it!”

Algernon returned with the tatty card in his hand.

“Give it to Reid.”

“But—”

“Give it to him!”

Algernon gave Reid his dog-eared card. The number twenty was printed in the corner, and the boxes were filled with tally marks.

“Well?” Edmund said, impatient for answers.

Reid produced the card Doyle had found. “The murderer dropped this at the scene.”

“Murderer?” Algernon winced as he glanced at the card. “That isn’t a genuine scorecard. Mine is number twenty. If you lose your card, you forfeit your place.”

Reid huffed in annoyance. “Are you saying it’s a coincidence?”

“I’m saying someone made that to frame me for murder.”

“I’m the one being framed,” he countered. “You bribed my secretary to give you the names of patients in their fifties. You conned him into thinking he was taking part in the bet.”

Algernon glanced at his father, his cheeks flaming. “I wanted to win the wager but was short of ladies to charm.”

“You lackwit,” his father grumbled.

“Four of the women you wooed died of a laudanum overdose. Laudanum purchased from Wiggins in Long Acre. The apothecary said you bought the tinctures. Apparently, for a disease you caught in Athens.”

“You caught a disease in Athens?” Edmund snapped.

“No.” Algernon gulped. “I purchased the tinctures to help me sleep.”

“Or to subdue women so you could earn more points for the bloody wager,” Reid cried. “You were seen pouring laudanum into Mrs Ludgrove’s wine at the Hare and Hounds. You conned the woman and told her your name was Mr Fellows and you work at Coutts.”

Beads of sweat formed on Algernon’s brow. “What? No! That wasn’t me. Mrs Ludgrove refused my offer of dinner.”

Reid pressed harder, knowing it wouldn’t take much to make the fop crack. “You stole Mrs Ludgrove’s ruby brooch and pearl earrings.”

Again, Algernon looked at his father and whimpered. “It wasn’t me. Can’t you see what he’s doing? He wants Bretton Hall and will see me hanged to achieve his goal.”

The devil’s own fury rose in Reid’s chest. “The groom was found murdered. Witnesses described the killer as young with an athletic build and wearing double-tasselled Hessians.”

Edmund swore in disbelief.

That’s when Algernon crumpled to his knees and sobbed like a babe, repeating over and over, “It wasn’t me. I swear I didn’t kill anyone. It wasn’t me.”