Regency Betrayal: The Rake to Ruin Her / The Rake to Redeem Her

Of course, being an excellent shot as well as a superior swordsman, if Alastair prevailed upon Henshaw to meet him, his cousin would kill the weasel for certain—and then he’d be forced to leave England.

He’d complicated his own life sufficiently; he didn’t intend to ruin Alastair’s as well.

‘I … got a bit carried away. Lady Melross and her crony came running in before I could set the young lady to rights.’

Alastair studied his face. ‘I heard the chit’s bodice was torn to her bosom, the buttons of her pelisse scattered all over the floor. Devil take it, Max, don’t try to gammon me. You’ve infinitely more finesse than that … and if you wanted a woman, you wouldn’t have to rip her out of her gown—in a public place, no less!’

Wishing he hadn’t tossed away his perfectly good glass, Max rummaged for one on the sideboard and poured himself another brandy. ‘I’m really not at liberty to say any more.’

‘Damn and blast, you can’t think I’d believe that Banbury tale! Did the Denby chit deliberately try to trap you? Dammit, I liked her! Surely you’re not going to let her get away with this!’

‘If by “getting away with it”, you mean forcing me to marry her, you’re out there. I made her an offer, as any gentleman of honour would in such a situation, but thus far, she’s refused it.’

Alastair stared at him for a long moment, then poured himself a brandy. ‘This whole story,’ he said, downing a large swallow, ‘makes no sense at all.’

‘With that, I can agree,’ Max said.

Suddenly, Alastair threw back his head and laughed. ‘Won’t need to worry about the Melross hag blackening your character in town. After bringing her party to such a scandalous conclusion, Jane’s going to murder you.’

‘Maybe I’ll hand her the pistol,’ Max muttered.

‘To women!’ Alastair held up his glass before tossing down the rest of the brandy. ‘One of the greatest scourges on the face of the earth. I don’t know what in hell happened today in the conservatory and, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s an end to it. But I do know you’d never do anything to harm a female and I’ll stand beside you, no matter what lies that dragon Melross and her pack of seditious gossips spread.’

Suddenly a wave of weariness come over Max … as it had in the wake of the Vienna disaster, when he’d wandered back to his rooms, numbed by shock, disbelief and a sense of incredulity that things could possibly have turned out so badly when he’d done nothing wrong. ‘Thank you,’ he said, setting down his glass.

Alastair poured them both another. ‘Ransleigh Rogues,’ he said, touching his glass to Max’s.

Before Max could take another sip, a footman entered, handing him a note written on Barton Abbey stationery. A flash of foreboding filled him—had Miss Denby already reconsidered?

But when he broke the seal, he discovered the note came from Lady Denby.

After thanking him for his offer to apologise and his assurance that he stood by his proposal to marry her stepdaughter, since Miss Denby informed her she had no intention of accepting him, there was really nothing else to be said. As both Miss Denby and her own daughter were most anxious to depart as soon as possible, she intended to leave immediately, but reserved the privilege of writing to him again when she’d had more opportunity to Sort Matters Out, at which time she trusted he would still be willing, as a Man of Honour, to Do The Right Thing.

An almost euphoric sense of relief filled Max. Apparently Lady Denby hadn’t managed to convince her stepdaughter to ‘Do the Right Thing’ before leaving Barton Abbey. With Miss Denby about to get everything she wanted—a return to her beloved Denby Lodge and a ruination that would allow her to wait in peace for the return of her Harry—Max was nearly certain no amount of Sorting Things Out later would convince Miss Denby to reconsider.

He’d remain a free man after all.

The misery of the day lightened just a trifle. Now he must concentrate on trying to limit the damage to his prospects of a career.

‘Good news?’ Alastair asked.

Max grinned at him. ‘The best. It appears I will not have to get leg-shackled after all. Amazingly, Miss Denby has resisted her stepmother’s attempts to convince her to marry me.’

Alastair whistled. ‘Amazing indeed! She must be dicked in the nob to discard a foolproof hand for forcing the Magnificent Max Ransleigh into marriage, but no matter.’

‘There’s an army sweetheart she’s waiting to marry.’

‘Better him than you,’ Alastair said as he refilled their glasses. ‘Here’s to Miss Denby’s resistance and remaining unwed!’

‘Add a government position to that and I’ll be a happy man.’

Max knew the worst wasn’t over yet. Whispers about the scandal in the conservatory would doubtless have raced through the rest of the company like a wildfire through parched grass. At some point, Aunt Grace would summon him in response to the note he’d sent her, wanting to know why he’d created such an uproar at her house party.

The two cousins remained barricaded in the library, from which stronghold they occasionally heard the thumps and bangs of footmen descending the stairs with the baggage of departing guests. But as the hour grew later without his aunt summoning him, Max guessed that some guests had chosen to remain another night, doubtless eager to grill their hostess for every detail over dinner, embarrassing Felicity, making Jane simmer and contemplate murder.

Alastair, ever loyal, kept him company, playing a few desultory hands of cards after he’d declined the offer of billiards. He wasn’t sure he’d trust himself with a cue in hand without trying to break it over someone’s head.

Probably his own.

So it was nearly midnight when a footman bowed himself in to tell him Mrs Ransleigh begged the indulgence of a few words with him in her sitting room.

Max swallowed hard. Now he must face the lady who’d stood by him, disparaging his father’s conduct and insisting he deserved better. And just like Vienna, though all he had done was assist a woman in distress, this time he’d ended up miring not just himself, but also his aunt, in embarrassment and scandal.

He’d not whined to Miss Denby about the black mark that would be left on his character by her refusal to wed; he wasn’t going to make excuses to his aunt, either. Girding himself to endure anger and recriminations, he crossed the room.

Alastair, who knew only too well what he’d face, gave him an encouraging slap on the shoulder as he walked by.

He found his aunt reclining on her couch in a dressing gown, eyes closed. She sat up with a start as the footman announced him, her eyes shadowed with fatigue, filling with tears as he approached.

His chest tightening, he felt about as miserable as he’d ever felt in his life. Rather than cause his aunt pain, he almost wished he’d fallen with the valiant at Hougoumont.

‘Aunt Grace,’ he murmured, kissing her outstretched fingers. ‘I am so sorry.’

But instead of the reproaches he’d steeled himself to endure, she pushed herself from her seat and enveloped him in a hug. ‘Oh, my poor Max, under which unlucky star were you born that such trouble has come into your life?’

Hugging her back, he muttered. ‘Lord knows. If I were one of the ancients, I’d think I’d somehow offended Aphrodite.’

‘Come, sit by me,’ she said, patting the sofa beside her.

Heartened by her unexpectedly sympathetic reception, he took a seat. ‘I’d been prepared to have you abuse my character and order me from the house. I cannot imagine why you have not, after I’ve unleashed such a sordid scandal at your house party.’

‘I imagine Anita Melross was delighted,’ she said drily. ‘She will doubtless dine out for weeks on the story of how she found you in the conservatory. Dreadful woman! How infuriating that she is so well connected, one cannot simply cut her. But enough about Anita. Oh, Max, what are we to do now?’

‘There isn’t much that can be done. Lady Melross and her minions will have already set the gossip mill in motion, thoroughly shredding my character. Frankly, I expected you to take part in the process.’

‘Frankly, I might have,’ his aunt retorted, ‘had Miss Denby not insisted upon speaking with me before she left.’

Surprise rendered him momentarily speechless. ‘Miss Denby spoke with you?’ he echoed an instant later.

‘I must admit, I was so angry with both of you, I had no desire whatsoever to listen to any excuses she wished to offer. But she was quite adamant.’ His aunt laughed. ‘Indeed, she told Wendell she would not quit the passage outside my chamber until she was permitted to see me. I’m so glad now that she persisted, for she confessed the whole to me—something I expect that you, my dear Max, would not have done.’

‘She … told you everything?’ Max asked, that news surprising him even more than his aunt’s unexpected sympathy.

His aunt nodded. ‘How Mr Henshaw made her an offer, so insistent upon her acceptance he was ready to attack her to force it! I was never so distressed!’ she cried, putting a hand on her chest. ‘Is there truly no way to lay the blame for that shocking attack where it belongs, at Henshaw’s feet?’

‘If Miss Denby disclosed the whole of what happened, you must see that there is virtually no chance we could fix the responsibility on him.’

‘Poor child! I feel wretched that someone I invited into my home would take such unspeakable liberties! With her shyness and lack of polish, she would never have found much success in the Marriage Mart, but to have her ruined by that … that infamous blackguard! And then, to have you wrongfully accused for her disgrace! ‘Tis monstrous, all of it!’