Amanda Quick: Scandal

"Without the help of your daughter?"

"Who says my daughter won't help me, by God?"

"I do." Simon stood up, disgusted with himself for even making the offer. "That part will not change, Faringdon. Not ever. I will never again allow you to use Emily."

"Bastard. We shall see about that."

Simon shrugged, picked up his hat, and walked toward the door.

It baffled him why anyone was particularly attracted toward the occasional, inexplicable impulse to be forgiving. It was obvious the world did not appreciate such naive qualities and acting on them only left one feeling like an idiot.

Still, Simon was rather glad he had made the crazed offer to Broderick. He made a note to mention his generous act to Emily after the soiree. She would look at him with her customary adoration and tell him how she had known all along he would be generous and heroic in victory. The fact that her father had failed to accept the offer in Yorkshire would be Broderick's problem, not Simon's.

Simon would no longer have to feel the lash of guilt whenever he looked into Emily's eyes.

Yes, he decided as he walked out of the hell, he was already feeling much better. He would like to tell Emily about his good deed tonight but she was frantic with soiree preparations. She would not be able to be suitably grateful and adoring. Much better to wait until the household had been restored to a semblance of calm.

"Emily can relax," Araminta murmured to Simon the next evening. "Her soiree is a brilliant success. The house is packed with guests, the street is clogged with carriages, the buffet is a perfect combination of the exotic as well as sturdy English fare, and the music is of excellent quality. Tomorrow morning everyone will be calling this a highlight of the Season."

Simon nodded coolly as he glanced around the crowded rooms. Laughter and music and conversation hummed through the townhouse. Emily's soiree was, indeed, a stunning success. "Have you seen Emily recently?"

"I noticed her talking to Lady Linton a short while ago." Araminta scanned the crowd. "I do not see her now. Perhaps she has gone to check with Greaves to see that the staff has everything under control. She has fretted over every detail of this evening. It's a wonder she has not collapsed from sheer exhaustion."

Simon frowned, aware of a vague sense of unease. It had begun a few minutes ago and was intensifying rapidly. "If you will excuse me, I believe I shall attempt to find her."

"Good luck. You might check with your butler. He has been keeping an eye on things."

"I will do that." Simon made his way through the knots of elegantly dressed people, pausing occasionally to exchange civilities and acknowledge compliments on Emily's charm as a hostess.

He eventually reached the hall, which was as crowded as the drawing room. He quickly located Greaves.

"Have you seen Lady Blade recently?" Simon asked.

"A few minutes ago, my lord." Greaves glanced around. "I do not see her now. Shall I have one of the footmen look for her?"

The uneasy sensation was getting worse. "Yes," Simon said. "Immediately. I shall check the kitchens."

"I doubt she would be in there, sir." Greaves gave a disapproving frown. "I advised her it would be best if she stayed with her guests and left the staff to see to the replenishment of the refreshments."

"Perhaps she is taking a short rest in the library. I will try there first."

The uneasiness had turned into a strong sense of urgency. Simon let himself into the library, which had been declared off limits to guests, and closed the door behind him.

It was something of a relief to step into the quiet sanctum. Simon saw at once that Emily was nowhere in sight, however, and the urgency crystallized into a genuine sense of foreboding.

He walked to the windows and glanced out into the gardens. There was just enough light pouring from the house to reveal a flicker of shadow near one of the hedges.

Simon froze as he recognized the swirling hem of a familiar dark cloak.

He told himself it was undoubtedly a guest who had gone outside for some fresh air but even as he tried to reassure himself he knew something was wrong.

Acting on instinct, Simon opened the window, threw one leg over the sill, and dropped lightly down onto the damp grass.

A moment later he was slipping silently along in the shadow of the tallest hedge. He caught sight of his quarry a short time later.

It was Emily, he realized grimly. There was no doubt about it. She was wearing her black velvet cloak.

Even as Simon watched, she unlocked the gate and stepped cautiously out into the dark alley. Simon started forward, his stomach cold with dread. He stopped short as a familiar masculine voice rose out of the darkness on the other side of the wall.

"Well, well, well," Crofton drawled contemptuously. "So you managed to pull it off, did you? I hope you have had the good sense to bring me one of Blade's better specimens concealed under your cloak, my dear. I would not want to have to send you back for another so soon."

"There will be no more, Mr. Crofton," Emily said fiercely.

"Oh, I think there will, Lady Blade. Your husband's wealth is a matter of much speculation, but there is no doubt it is considerable. I do not think he will miss one or two more of his odd statues."

"You are a bastard, Mr. Crofton."

Crofton chuckled evilly. "Remember what will happen if you do not cooperate, my dear. The husband you so obviously adore will be held up to public ridicule because of the scandal in your past. He will be humiliated forever because of you. But we both know you will do anything to protect Blade, don't we? Such a loving wife."

Simon found a chink with the toe of his boot and hoisted himself silently up to the top of the broad stone wall. Crouching on the rough surface, he looked down and saw two figures dimly illuminated in the weak moonlight. His hand clenched into a tight fist as the rage washed through him.

Emily had the hood of her cloak pulled up over her face, her hands buried inside the folds of velvet. Crofton stood a few feet from her, dressed in an enveloping greatcoat and a hat pulled down low over his eyes to conceal his face.

"Are you quite certain you will not give up this dreadful scheme?" Emily asked quietly. "Is there no hope of appealing to your better nature?"

"None whatsoever, my dear. None whatsoever. Do you know, I have grown vastly curious. I believe I would be interested to find out just why Blade finds you so amusing. I think we shall arrange for another meeting very soon, madam. Someplace private, I think, where you can show me how clever and amusingly eccentric you are—in bed."

"You are a monster, Crofton."

"Tut, tut, my dear. Just remember what will happen if you do not cooperate with me. I know you are probably too eccentric to care about your own reputation, but you will do what you have to in order to protect Blade from humiliation, won't you? And I shall so enjoy the experience of bedding you, madam. I feel certain it will be quite a novelty. Has he taught you any interesting Eastern tricks for entertaining a man?"

"You are correct about one thing, Crofton. I will do anything to protect my husband."

Emily's hands came out from under the cloak. Simon saw moonlight reflect off the small pistol she was clutching and he realized with a shock what she was about to do.

Emily was about to put a bullet through Crofton in order to protect him from the scandal in her past.

Crofton's mouth dropped open at the sight of the weapon. His eyes widened in stunned surprise. "Damnation, woman, are you mad? Put down that pistol."

"I gave you your chance, Mr. Crofton. And I hoped against all odds that I would not have to go to such extreme lengths to make you disappear. But you would not go away. There is only one way to protect my husband from you." She aimed, set her teeth, and started to pull the trigger.