Regency Scandal: Some Like It Wicked / Some Like to Shock

‘Well, I—’ The man glanced briefly, uncomfortably, to where Pandora was still in quiet conversation with her maid. ‘We only discovered what had occurred a few minutes ago, your Grace, and anyway, I was not absolutely sure that—’

‘I think there has been quite enough chatter for one night,’ Pandora stated. Having now learnt from Henley exactly what had occurred—in lurid detail!—in her absence, she had no wish to discuss it further in front of Rupert Stirling; he already knew far too much about her personal business for her comfort.

She certainly didn’t need Bentley to tell the overly curious and shrewdly intelligent nobleman that the reason he had not called the authorities as yet was because he had been unsure of whether or not she would want him to bring this to their attention.

Pandora turned to the butler. ‘Bentley, take everyone back down to the kitchen and see that they are all given a little brandy to calm their nerves—’

‘But first bring a decanter of the same and two glasses to her Grace’s blue salon,’ Rupert instructed the elderly man imperiously even as he took a firm hold upon Pandora’s elbow.

‘You are white as a sheet, madam,’ he added sternly as Pandora would have protested the need for strong alcohol.

Well … yes, she probably was. But she had thought—hoped— What did it matter what she had thought or hoped, when tonight’s events had so obviously proved her wrong?

‘Do as his Grace suggests, Bentley,’ she instructed wearily, knowing that there would now be no persuading Rupert to leave her or her home until she had offered him some sort of reasonable explanation for what had happened here this evening.

Although quite how much of an explanation Pandora wanted, or indeed, intended to give him, she was as yet uncertain …

Chapter Six (#ulink_e626a79d-4cd6-5a5c-87e5-0f955153e442)

‘I am still waiting, Pandora,’ Rupert prompted.

‘What exactly are you waiting for?’ A frown creased her ivory brow as she looked up from where she was seated upon the sofa on the other side of the unlit fireplace from where Rupert was standing, the glass of brandy he had poured for her minutes ago remaining untouched in her gloved hand. They had both dispensed with their evening cloaks and hats upon entering the salon, Bentley having quietly removed them after delivering the silver tray containing the decanter of brandy and two glasses.

Rupert moved to refill his own empty glass before answering Pandora in measured tones. ‘I’m waiting for an explanation, of course.’

She raised fair brows. ‘I’m not sure I understand—’

‘A word of caution, Pandora,’ he cut in grimly, instantly causing her expression to turn wary. ‘I have never appreciated being lied to.’

‘Very few people do,’ she returned lightly as she took a tentative sip from the brandy in her glass before instantly making an expression of distaste.

‘I especially don’t appreciate being lied to by a woman,’ he added.

‘Does that include all women, or do you have a specific preference in that, too?’ She placed the half-full brandy glass well away from her on a side table.

Rupert’s mouth compressed at her levity. ‘I believe you will find my mood much more … accommodating if you don’t attempt to fob me off with sarcastic humour, either.’

‘Perhaps I wouldn’t feel the need to do so if I knew what it was you wished for me to tell you?’ she murmured.

‘I wish for the truth, madam!’

Pandora shrugged her shoulders dismissively. ‘It has been my experience that one person’s truth is not always the same as another’s — Rupert!’ she gasped in protest as he reached down to take a grasp of both her arms even as he thrust his face very close to her own.

He frowned darkly. ‘Pandora, you expressed neither surprise nor distress upon hearing that someone had entered your home illegally whilst you were out at the opera this evening. Nor have you since gone up to your bedchamber in order to see what, if anything, may have been taken. Why is that?’ His voice was now silky soft and all the more dangerous for it.

Her throat moved convulsively as she swallowed. ‘I have had other, more immediate concerns—’

‘More immediate than establishing whether or not any of your valuables have been taken?’ he pressed determinedly.

The idea that she might have any valuables left in her possession which could be taken almost caused Pandora to laugh bitterly. Almost. For the expression on Rupert’s face was of such fierceness, and so very close to her own, that she found it impossible to do anything other than continue to look into the angry glitter of those compelling silver eyes. ‘There will be plenty of opportunity for me to go upstairs when you have gone.’

‘Which could be some time when I have absolutely no intention of going anywhere until you have fully explained this situation to me,’ the Duke assured her implacably.

‘There is no situation,’ she denied. ‘An unknown person, or persons, seems to have entered my home this evening, deeply distressing my personal maid and leaving the rest of the household in uproar. That is the end to what I know of this business at the present time.’

Rupert continued to look at her searchingly for several long seconds, but could read absolutely nothing from the blandness of her expression or the calm look in those violet-coloured eyes as they gazed up into his.

Such fine and beautiful eyes. So deep a violet as to give the appearance of a deep, dark well. And as full of mystery …

Damn it, now was not the time for him to be appreciative of the fineness of Pandora’s eyes, or indeed any other part of her anatomy!

Rupert released her to straighten abruptly, but continued to look down at her along the length of his nose. ‘I will come up the stairs with you now—’

‘That will not be necessary—’

‘Nevertheless, I have every intention of accompanying you to your bedchamber.’ Rupert’s lids narrowed as he saw a return of the alarm in her expression. ‘What is it you are afraid of, Pandora?’

‘I’m not afraid of anything!’ She rose suddenly to her feet, two bright wings of colour now in the ivory of her cheeks, from temper, he believed. ‘Very well, if you insist, you shall come up the stairs with me.’ Those magnificent eyes flashed deeply purple. ‘Although quite what you expect to find there, I have no idea! A lover, perhaps?’ she added scornfully. ‘Some man I keep hidden away in my bedchamber in order that he might share my bed at night?’

Rupert had far from forgotten the accusations of infidelity made against this woman during her marriage. Accusations which he had not cared to hear then at second hand, and had even less interest in doing so now that he had actually met and spoken to her. No, if and when he were to ever hear the truth surrounding those accusations, then he had every intention of it being Pandora herself who revealed it to him.

There was a detachment about Pandora Maybury. A coolness which she had deliberately adopted in order to keep those hurtful comments at bay, perhaps? The same coolness, which Rupert knew he had been endeavouring to breach, by whatever means possible, since the moment he first met her.

He gave a brief smile now. ‘I somehow doubt that.’

‘You do?’ She looked at him in challenge.

Rupert smiled again, confidently. ‘Yes.’

Pandora eyed him coldly. ‘Then you are singular in that belief.’

He gave a mocking shake of his head. ‘I have told you, I make it a rule never to blindly follow where others in society lead.’

Her smile was completely lacking in humour. ‘How nice to realise that your acquaintance with me is nothing more than a snubbing of your arrogant nose at society!’

Rupert had every hope that it was going to be so much more than that … ‘If you’re hoping to annoy me further, Pandora, then don’t bother; I assure you that I, and my arrogant nose, are completely impervious to insults.’

‘How fortunate for you!’

He crossed the room to open the door. ‘After you …?’ He stood back pointedly to allow her to precede him from the salon.

Which she did with a brisk sweep of the skirts of her gown as she moved past him, her chin raised haughtily high, those violet-coloured eyes glittering angrily, her cheeks once again aflame with temper.

Rupert followed more slowly, unsure himself as to what he expected to achieve by insisting on visiting Pandora’s bedchamber with her—certainly not the obvious! But his instincts had served him well during his years in the army, and as such he knew there was something … not quite right in the calmness of Pandora’s response to someone having entered her home uninvited this evening.

‘Oh!’ Pandora had believed she was prepared for what she would find when she entered her bedchamber. Henley’s description earlier, of mayhem and destruction, had been given to her so vividly that Pandora had known of the shredded bed linen, the feathers scattered about the room from the ripped pillows and mattress, of overturned or broken perfume bottles on her dressing table, and drawers left open and now empty, with the clothes that had been inside thrown about on the floor.

Yes, she had known to expect all of those things upon entering her bedchamber, but still it had in no way prepared her for how shocked she would feel at seeing all of her personal belongings either ripped or broken. As if, not finding what they had come here for, the perpetrator had then become intent upon destroying everything she might hold dear.