Saved By Scandal's Heir. Janice Preston

him, but it also raised a hope he didn’t want to feel. ‘Lady Brierley didn’t want to leave?’

      ‘No, sir. First she said she wouldn’t leave without her maid...’

      Ah, of course. Her maid. Janet. She was the cause of Harriet’s reluctance. Stupid to imagine it could be anything else. Benedict shook his head, trying to clear it and order his thoughts.

      ‘And then,’ Cooper continued, clearly relishing being the one to tell him the story, ‘his lordship said Janet must go, too, and the doctor was here and he said as how she shouldn’t really be moved, and his lordship said he wouldn’t leave her here in this den of...den of...something...’

      Iniquity, Benedict thought, his head reeling as his temples began to throb.

      ‘...so we had to carry Janet downstairs and prop up her leg on cushions and all the while his lordship was looking like thunder—’

      ‘Had he come to visit Sir Malcolm?’

      ‘No, sir, but he did go up and pay his respects. He said something about a letter, sir, and more scandal, sir. Just like that. More scandal!’ Cooper paused for breath.

      ‘And her ladyship was happy to go?’

      ‘Well, yes and no, I should say, sir.’

      Benedict bit down the urge to bark, Get on with it, man. ‘I’m waiting, Cooper.’

      ‘Well, she seemed happy enough to go, but she wanted to go back to London, she said. Only his lordship wouldn’t budge, even when her ladyship pleaded with him. He said as how she was to come home with him and explain herself properly if she knew what was good for her.’

      What was good for her? She’s his stepmother, for God’s sake. What the blazes did he mean by that?

      ‘And then he said as how he would stop her allowance if she didn’t do what he said.’

      ‘And so she went with him?’

      ‘Yes, sir. But she wasn’t happy.’

      Benedict told himself it was for the best. He told himself it was a relief, but then why did his throat ache and why had his stomach twisted into knots?

      ‘Thank you, Cooper. That will be all.’

      Benedict levered himself away from the wall and headed towards the back stairs on decidedly unsteady legs.

      ‘Please inform Sir Malcolm I am unwell and unable to pay him my usual visit. I am going to bed.’ He flung the words over his shoulder at the footman.

      ‘Her ladyship found your hat, sir.’ Cooper’s words floated up the back stairs after Benedict. ‘Mr Crabtree brushed it and put it away.’

      His hat! A vague memory surfaced of Harriet dislodging it during that kiss. Benedict stumbled as he reached the top of the stairs and turned in the direction of his bedchamber. He cursed under his breath, praying he would not meet any other servants in his current state.

      Never again would he touch the ale at the Crossways. It was clearly tainted.

       Chapter Seven

      Edward’s carriage bowled through the elaborately crafted wrought iron gates that marked the entrance to Brierley Place, and Harriet gazed from the window as the familiar manor house with its mullioned windows and ornate chimneys came into view. It had been her home for more than seven years, but she had left it with no regret when Brierley had died three years ago, and Edward, as the fourth Earl of Brierley, had moved his family in.

      The journey—slow in deference to Janet’s injuries—had been interminable, the silence heavy with Edward’s unspoken fury, punctuated only by the occasional moan of pain that escaped Janet despite the clear effort she made to be quiet, biting at her lip and squeezing her eyes shut. Edward had spent the entire journey glowering at Harriet, arms folded across his barrel-like torso. Clearly he could not wait to rip into her, but Harriet knew he would never do so in front of a servant.

      Physically, he was just like his father—no more than medium height, light brown hair, inclined to stoutness—but in his character he was the complete opposite. His chief concern, as ever, was for appearances, and he took himself and his duties with the utmost seriousness since inheriting the earldom. He sat as magistrate in the petty sessions whenever required, and he prided himself on his firm but fair judgement; he attended the House of Lords on a regular basis and spoke—according to the newspaper reports that Harriet had read—with authority and gravity on important matters of state; and he expected his family, including his late father’s widow, to behave with the utmost propriety at all times.

      If only, Harriet had often thought to herself, he knew what his father was truly like. Or perhaps he did know—at least some of it—and, like many men, he believed that what went on between husband and wife was nobody’s business but their own.

      The lack of conversation had given Harriet time to think...time to remember...time to relive. That kiss! Shivers rippled down her spine and spread beneath her skin. It was surely the shock of seeing Benedict in such familiar surroundings that had provoked her into behaving so out of character. She determined to put her entire visit to Tenterfield behind her—going there had been a colossal lack of judgement on her part and she could not wait to return to her familiar, humdrum life. Benedict’s intention to take his place in society had been a shock, but it should be easy enough to avoid him—he had been overseas for years and they would be unlikely to have friends in common. And once he married and had a family, the dangerous attraction he had awakened within her would be banished.

      But first... She sneaked a peek at Edward, sitting opposite her. He caught her look and scowled. Harriet swallowed. First she must placate Edward.

      After Benedict had stormed away from the folly, Harriet had retrieved his hat from the floor and carried it back to the house, where she was swept up in the whirlwind that was her stepson. He refused to listen to reason. Janet couldn’t be moved? Nonsense. If she was able to sit up in bed, she could sit in a carriage for a couple of hours with her leg propped up and well padded. He would instruct the coachman to keep the horses at a walk. Harriet wished to return to London? Certainly. He would put his carriage at her disposal. After he had spoken to her about her behaviour, as was his duty as head of the family. And he would do that at Brierley Place. Not in this—Edward had looked around, his top lip curled—not in this den of iniquity.

      A footman hurried from Brierley Place, ready to lower the steps of the carriage after it drew to a halt outside the front door.

      ‘Lady Brierley’s maid has a broken ankle,’ Edward said as he clambered from the carriage. ‘Find someone to help you carry her upstairs, will you?’

      The footman hurried back to the house, and Edward turned to hand Harriet from the carriage. ‘I will see you in my study, madam.’ He released her hand as soon as she reached the ground and stomped into the house, leaving Harriet to follow in his wake.

      Smithson, the butler, was in the hall, giving orders to more footmen about Janet and the luggage.

      ‘Good afternoon, my lady.’ Smithson bowed. He directed a passing maid to take Harriet’s cloak, hat and gloves. ‘Would you care for tea? Her ladyship is in the drawing room with Lady Katherine. They have asked you to join them on your arrival.’

      Thank goodness Fanny and the children were as welcoming as ever, despite Edward’s strong but unexplained discouragement of her visits to Brierley since his father’s death. Harriet had become used to his frostiness and had merely avoided him as much as possible—she had her own life to lead—but this fury and disdain was something new.

      ‘Thank you, Smithson, but his lordship has asked that I attend him in his study.’

      ‘I will inform her ladyship, my lady. If you would care to follow me?’

      For all the world as if I did not know the whereabouts of Brierley’s study, Harriet