Page 3 of Escape of the Scoundrel (Escape #1)

L ord Illsworth, who had drunk less than most, rose earlier than all but the sorry gentlemen who had collapsed first in one of the private parlours, and were now holding their heads in the aired common room and making heavy weather of their hearty breakfasts.

Give Sanderly his due, he would definitely have known how to extract the most humour from this moment. Illsworth, spying the immoderate young gentlemen over the balustrade from the landing above, merely allowed himself a smug smile. There but for the grace of God...

He straightened and went on toward the stairs. He had come out slightly ahead last night, though hardly enough to sustain him through the deep gaming at Lady Grandison’s. He would have to be creative.

At the head of the stairs, he paused, for the door to Sanderly’s room was open. On impulse, he strolled along to it and knocked, gently pushing. The door opened wider to reveal that the room was entirely empty. Both girl and earl had gone. Unless they were braving the lewd sniggers in the coffee room. He doubted the sorry specimens he’d glimpsed were up to much ribald teasing, but Illsworth could manage a few pithy shots.

He was about to leave again when he noticed the paper propped up on the mantel shelf. Curious, he walked into the room and picked it up. It was directed to Lord Sanderly and unsealed. Which was basically an invitation to look.

He unfolded the missive, which was brief and written in a hurried if well-formed hand.

My lord,

Please accept my thanks for your generosity last night.

Followed by some illegible squiggle of a signature that he could not read.

What the devil did it mean? Illsworth wondered in some distaste. That the man was a generous lover and paid well? And the lout hadn’t even taken her letter with him!

Mind you, he had probably left as soon as he’d finished with her. He had been bending the elbow rather more than usual...

“Who cares?” he muttered, stuffing the note in his pocket. He had a habit of collecting things that might prove useful later. Even if Snake was leaving the country, it could be something to hold over his delectable sister. Should she prove recalcitrant, though he had no reason to suppose she would.

His blood warmed pleasantly at the thought of her, and he went down to breakfast in a much better mood. Tonight, he thought, would be his night.

***

S INCE HE DID NOT PLAN to stay more than an hour or so at Grand Court, Sanderly stopped at the local village inn to break his fast. It was a quiet place, unused to gentlemen travellers who tended to stay at the bigger posting inns or with the Grandisons, who were known to be hospitable people.

The flustered innkeeper’s wife seated him at her best table and fussed over him. The maid who served him gawped so hard she spilled his tea. He bore it all with patience, since the food was excellent and even the giggling was likely to be less annoying than whatever it was his sister had to say to him. He even contemplated changing his mind and going on instead to Harwich, but he had already come this far and perhaps he really should look in on her if he was going to be away for several years.

So, he climbed back into his carriage and was driven the short distance to Grand Court. Of course, it was not yet nine of the clock, far too early to expect his hosts to receive him, which suited Sanderly well enough.

He presented his card to a very superior butler. “Lady Barbara Martindale, if you please.”

The butler bowed. Titles did not overwhelm him. “I’ll inquire if her ladyship is abroad.”

“She won’t be,” Sanderly said dryly. “Have her maid wake her and tell her I shall only be here for the next hour.”

“Very good, my lord.” The butler departed into the depths of the house, leaving Sanderly to kick his heels in the entrance hall. He passed the time examining the paintings of Grandison’s Friday-faced ancestors, and decided they were almost as gruesome as his own.

However, he did not have long to wait before a woman he vaguely recognized hurried across the hall and curtseyed to him. “My lord. Her ladyship asks if you will step upstairs to her chamber.”

Sanderly sighed. “Lead on.” It was either that or wait two hours for her to dress.

As soon as the maid opened the bedroom door, Barbara flew up in a haze of lace, grasping his arm in a vice-like grip, and dragged him into the room.

“Go away, Masters,” she flung at the maid.

“I’ll go with her if you’re going to abuse my poor coat,” Sanderly warned.

She all but flung his arm from her. “Oh, Snake, a plague on your wretched coat!”

“And on whatever problem inspired your summons,” he said affably, looking her up and down. She was dressed in some kind of frothy dressing gown over an even frothier night gown. “You look like a cake.”

Her giggle was unexpected and surprisingly welcome, although she quickly frowned at him again. “Have you come just to insult me?”

“No, I came because you said I should, and I had a free hour to kill. What do you want, Bab?”

“Oh, Snake, you just have to talk to James and—”

“Who is James?” he interrupted, wandering over to the window and sniffing at the vase of fresh flowers there.

She stared at him with dislike. “My husband!”

“Ah. Dear James.”

“You needn’t say it like that!”

“Like what? You assured me he would become dear to me. I am doing my best.”

“You are being sarcastic and nasty. You were never like that before Hugo died.”

He made his smile as wintry and unpleasant as he could. “I am living up to expectations. But I am a man of simple ideas. For instance, you talk to dearest James, who is, as you pointed out, your husband.”

For a moment, she seemed likely to fly off the handle. Extracting a dainty, pink rose from the vase, he held it under his nose, watching with some interest as she struggled to master her temper and, surprisingly, won. Clearly, she was serious.

“You do delight in provoking people, don’t you, Snake? Well, I shan’t hold it against you if you will just hear me out. I want you to talk to James and Illsworth.”

“Illsworth? I’ve said more than enough to him today already.”

“Oh God, is he coming here?”

Sanderly pretended to think about it while he watched her face. “Is he? Yes, I believe he said so.”

“Oh, the devil, then you absolutely have to speak to both of them.”

“Do I? And what exactly is it I’m supposed to say to both of them?”

She spun around and threw herself onto the chaise longue. “I want you to tell James that my affections are fixed and loyal and that I did not marry him merely to gain the freedoms of a married woman. And I want you tell Illsworth to give me back the cravat pin I gave him. And destroy any letters I may have written to him.”

Sanderly stared at her. “If you wanted the inestimable Illsworth, why the devil did you nag me so mercilessly to let you marry dear James?”

“Illsworth must marry money,” she said miserably.

“How very vulgar, but since you began it, allow me to point out that you were never a pauper.”

“Well, he needs a positively vulgar amount—a cit’s daughter, in fact—but that’s not the point. I didn’t want to marry Cedric.”

“Cedric,” Sanderly repeated. “Now I am entirely confused. Who is Cedric?”

She spared him a withering glance, although a hint of colour rose to her pale cheeks. “Cedric is Illsworth’s Christian name, as you very well know. I have been acquainted with him forever and never had the remotest desire to marry him. It was always James.”

“Dear James,” Sanderly murmured, but if Bab noticed, she did not rise to the bait.

“The thing is, Snake,” she said carefully. “I have done something very foolish.”

“No!” he uttered in polite disbelief. It won him no more than the briefest glance of irritation. She really was serious enough to inspire his first twinge of genuine unease. “What did you do?”

“I gave Cedric Illsworth a present.”

“What sort of present? A valuable one, I assume.”

“It is to me,” she whispered, then cleared her throat. “It was the first token of love James gave to me—pray, don’t pretend you will be sick!”

“I wasn’t going to. I am much too flabbergasted by your...I don’t even know what to call it. Bad taste? Bad form? Idiocy?”

“Idiocy will do,” she said miserably. “I was just so angry with James. I love him madly, of course, but he can be so wretchedly staid and - and judgmental and...”

“And you lost your temper and gave his token to Illsworth just to annoy him.”

“I did,” she agreed, apparently relieved by his understanding. “The thing is, I tried to do so in front of James—we were at the Larchester ball at the time, but it turns out...” She met Sanderly’s gaze now with some indignation. “He didn’t even notice!”

“How very disobliging of him. I do hope everyone else at the ball observed your generosity.”

“Oh, stop it,” she said with an impatient flick of her hand. “It was done lightly and discreetly and only James was supposed to notice by watching me .”

“I warned you he would disappoint you.”

“Don’t be horrid, Snake. In any case, as soon as I had done it, I regretted it, for I do value the pin. I often wear at as a brooch for it is rather pretty, and more than that, it was the cravat pin James wore the first night I met him.”

“Now, I might be sick. I suppose you asked Illsworth for it back and he’d already pawned it or lost it at hazard.”

“No, he wrote back that he treasures it too much to return it and will wear it as a token of his love the next time we meet.”

“When even James will notice.”

“Precisely.”

“I suppose you know you have lamentable taste in men.”

“I must since you are my last hope.”

“You want me to get the pin back from Illsworth.”

“If you please,” Bab said anxiously. “And, if you could, convince James that I have always been a faithful wife, and always will be.”

“Are you?” Sanderly drawled.

Her eyes spat. “Of course I am! I only flirted with Illsworth to make James jealous, and he knew that...until he saw the letter.”

Sanderly sat in the window seat and cast his eyes to heaven, gently wafting himself with the rose. “The letter,” he repeated. “Illsworth’s letter declaring his undying love for you?”

She nodded miserably. “He didn’t mean it, of course. Cedric just likes to be in fashion while he pursues his heiress who is very unlikely to be remotely fashionable. But unfortunately, he is given to hyperbole and referred to our dance the previous evening as our night-time embrace and James...”

Sanderly raised his quizzing glass and regarded her through it. “I used to have a healthy regard for your intelligence, Bab. Marriage seems to have turned you perfectly bird-witted.”

“I know,” she said huskily. “I have made a huge mess of things, made my husband distrust me and given false evidence of misbehaviour to a man I wish I hadn’t trusted.”

“I wish you hadn’t either,” Sanderly said. “He most assuredly is not trustworthy as I’m sure dear James knows very well. However, I seem to recall you twist your husband around your little finger—one of the reasons I was against the match—so I’m surprised you have not done so.”

“Well, I have, up to a point ,” Bab said. “But things are a little... fragile between us. If he finds out I gave Illsworth the brooch, if he sees him wearing it in front of everyone here at Grand Court... Some of them will recognize it as mine.”

“I see.”

“I knew you would. It will humiliate James, wreck my marriage, and spoil my good name. And yours, by association.”

He refocused on her. “Don’t be ridiculous. My name was spoiled long since. In fact, the only reason I consented to dear James in the end was the fact that he was prepared to take you in the teeth of my reputation.”

“You see?” she said proudly. “He isn’t as staid as you think him.”

“He doesn’t need to be staid to object to this particular mess.”

“No, I know, and normally I wouldn’t involve you, but the thing is, I don’t want to be alone with Illsworth in order to plead with him in person.”

“The first sensible thing you have said this morning.”

She swallowed. Humility did not come easily to any of his family. “I know. So will you help me, Snake?”

“I only have an hour,” he said, as the bleakness threatened to fold around him again. “I have a ship that will not wait for me.”

She sat up, a sharp frown tugging her perfectly arched eyebrows. “What, you’re not really fleeing the country, are you?”

“I’m going to Africa.”

“ Africa? But why? You’re a peer of the realm. The law can barely touch you for anything. Did you kill someone in a duel? Never tell me you’re really afraid of a few husbands shooting you!”

Sanderly regarded his almost perfectly manicured fingernails with mild disfavour. “I thank you for the loyalty, of course, but I don’t much care whether cowardice—”

“You were never a coward, Snake,” she interrupted with unexpected ferocity.

It spoke volumes for his need of escape that this limited accolade from his little sister actually brought a lump to his throat. He stood up and strolled toward her, presenting her with the rose.

“But I am, my dear. I’m mortally afraid of crashing boredom if nothing else.”

For an instant, he was horribly afraid he saw understanding in her eyes, but it might have just been hopelessness.

She snatched the rose from his fingers. “Can’t you take a later ship? Next week, next month? You’re the only one I can trust, Snake.”

He stared back at her. “Silly question, Bab—why don’t you trust your husband?”

Her breath shuddered. “Because he doesn’t trust me.”

What a mess. What a bloody silly mess .

“Can’t we think our way out of it?” she wheedled. “You were always the best at thinking.”

No, I wasn’t. Hugo was .

He paced toward the door, mainly to outrun the thought.

“Oh God,” Bab said behind him, springing to her feet and rushing to the window. “I hear a carriage arriving. I’ll bet that’s Illsworth.”

“Nonsense. It’s nowhere near midday.”

“Besides, it’s a post-chaise and he generally drives himself. Oh look, Snake, it’s a parcel of ragged children! What on earth are they doing at Grand Court? Do you suppose they’re Sir John’s long-lost love-children pursuing their birthrights?”

“Have you ever thought of novel writing?” he asked disparagingly.

But for no reason, his spirits lifted. He strolled back across the room in time to see the girl in the familiar if execrable straw hat square her shoulders and lead the gaggle of children toward the front door. They reminded him of a line of ducklings following their mother. Which might have been why he wanted to smile.

Instead, he sighed. “I suppose I still have another hour.”