Page 26 of Only Scandal Will Do

“Go away, Jack.”

“We have to talk. And I don’t want to have to shout through this door.”

“I have nothing to say to you or to him. Ever.”

“Katarina. Listen to me.” Her brother forced his voice into a calm, soothing tone. Much good it would do him. “You have to tell me what happened. I know what you told me before, but... Damn it, what you said just now, what you almost said. He was in that room with you, wasn’t he?”

The back of her head thudded against the door as she stared at the ceiling and huffed out a sigh, attempting to temper her anger. “I am not discussing this with you, Jack. I am leaving for Virginia as planned. Whatever he told you, whatever you think happened, I do not care. I am going home, do you hear? I cannot marry that man!”

“You may not have a choice, Kat. I must act in your best interests and there is no guarantee Amiable Dawson will take you if it gets out you have been ruined. Hell, you were compromised just from what I saw last night in the garden. And if what you said is true...” He trailed off, as though he could not bring himself to continue the thought.

“Jack,” she sobbed again, laying her hand flat against the door. A poor substitute for the comfort of his shoulder. “Jack, please.”

“He’s trying to do the right thing, Kat. You should be grateful.” His tone held more than a little reproach.

“Grateful!” She twisted the key and flung the door open.

Jack jumped back with a startled, frightened look.

“Grateful to the wretch who ruined me? If he had believed me, or helped me, or been a true gentleman that night, then perhaps I would feel differently.” She scowled until her face ached with the strain. She stalked toward Jack, who retreated to the opposite side of the corridor. “But all he wanted was to slake his lust with me. And you want to help tie me to him for life in my own best interest? Then God save me from you, too!” She turned on her heel and stormed into her room, slamming the door in his face.

His footsteps retreated. She threw herself down in the chair, head in her hands. Jack would undoubtedly side with Dalbury. For honor. Well, honor be damned. Where was their honor on that cold night in March? Memories she tried to deny, tried to forget, assailed her now. Her body pressed against the marquess, his mouth on hers, her tongue in...

She had to get away. If she could get on board the Constanza and barricade herself in the cabin, the ship would sail regardless of what either her brother or the marquess did. But she must go now. Before they thought to restrain her. She hoped Peter had already taken her trunks to the dock, but if not she must go as she was.

She rose, fashioning a plan as she donned cloak and hat. Money. Her reticule held a goodly sum she was taking with her. That was providential, for she assumed Jack would now send no more to her.

Stopping in the middle of the room, she shook with fury at her brother’s betrayal. She would not soon forget or forgive this treachery. That could be left for later. Think. What else did she need?

Clothing. She had the gown she stood in and her traveling clothes. Dare she take the time to change? Should she take them with her? But how? And everything else was in those blasted trunks. Instinct said not to risk it. She would simply have to make do.

Cautiously, she opened the door and listened to the household. Nothing. She eased her way toward the staircase, hesitant to move boldly in case someone approached. The house was eerily quiet for this time of day. As she made it to the bottom of the stairs, the murmur of voices came to her from the receiving room.

Damn Jack! He was still in there with Dalbury. Undoubtedly laying plans for her wedding. Well, they could come to the colonies if they wanted to hear her vows. But they’d be weeks too late, pray God.

On swift, silent feet, Kat glided across the rose medallion of the Aubusson carpet in the hallway. She opened the front door carefully and eased it closed behind her, shuddering at the click of the lock. She should be able to find a hackney in the next street over that would take her to the docks.

Once out of sight of the house, she slowed her pace so as to not draw attention, and when she entered a carriage for hire in Martin’s Square, no one looked twice. The driver gave a toss of the reins, and soon was lost in the press of vehicles that roamed the crowded streets of London.

CHAPTER 11

Duncan stood before the window, staring into the bright sunshine at a small garden without seeing it. Turning when he heard the door close, he steeled himself for the confrontation with the now stern-faced young man. He set his face in what he hoped were neutral features, much as he would when facing an adversary in a duel. Pray God it did not come to that. “Did Lady Katarina tell you what happened that night, Lord Manning?” Strike first as an offensive measure.

The earl’s expression remained stony. “She did not give particulars, except to say you ruined her. Do you deny this happened, Dalbury?”

Duncan took a breath. “Not in the least.”

“By God, sir! I shall meet you--”

“Lord Manning! I beg you to hear me out before issuing your challenge. Though I deserve nothing less, and will be glad to oblige you, first listen to what occurred that night. I make no excuses, but I would have you know I did not act willfully to compromise your sister.” Lord Manning resumed his place on the sofa, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

Duncan sat in Katarina’s chair, savoring the faint smell of jasmine that lingered in the place. With regret, he turned his attention to the tale and with little embellishment related to Katarina’s brother the events that led up to his bidding on his sister. Manning’s face paled, but he made no sound as Duncan recounted their spirited exchange.

“She fought me, gave me this memento.” He gestured to the still rough scars on his cheek. “Then hit me over the head and escaped. I would never have treated her thus, but I thought her just another one of...” He ran a hand through his hair. “Christ, I did not mean for any of this to happen. If your coach had not been waylaid and I had not gone to Madam Vestry’s, this courtship would have been much easier to conduct.”

The earl regarded him with a dubious frown. “You would have offered for Kat even if you were not bound by honor?”

Duncan nodded, unabashed. “Not only is she beautiful, Manning, but she is a spirited girl. I find that refreshing after so many simpering misses who have no thought past their next ball gown. I dare say Lady Katarina is more interested in the next hunt she will attend rather than the next ball.”