Only Scandal Will Do. Jenna Jaxon

was likely a ruse.

      He paused, schooling his face. “It could be one I misplaced several weeks ago. I attended a private function and neglected to retrieve it when I left. I hoped to return to collect it but I have been...detained by work. I am only recently returned from Italy.”

      “You were abroad long, my lord?”

      “I was away over ten months.” Convinced the man sought to goad him, Duncan could not keep annoyance out of his voice.

      “Ah, since May last?”

      Duncan furrowed his brows into a scowl. “I left in May, yes. You obviously know the reason. My family was disgraced by my relative’s scandalous behavior, even though the connection was only through marriage. But that connection managed to start totally unfounded rumors about my sister. I chose to settle them honorably.”

      “You killed two of your opponents, I believe. And two of the other four were quite badly wounded.” Matthews’s voice was a wisp of sound.

      “I acted with honor, sir,” he said, the words clipped, icy. “There was nothing else to do. I then chose to leave rather than be forced to hear the tittle-tattle during the whole of the London season. I just pray God it has died down by now.”

      “There are fresher scandals to be had this year, my lord. Hopefully none touching your family.” Matthews’s comment sounded offhand, but a threat seemed to lie just below the surface. The man knew something. Or believed he did.

      “But back to our business. You assert that this is your cloak?”

      “I assert nothing of the sort, sir. I merely said it was like one I had misplaced.”

      “And is this it, my lord?” Matthews thrust the black cloth into his hands. “I would think you recognized it now.”

      “Take care, sir!” The warning flashed like quicksilver. In reality, he was a peer–not above the law, perhaps, but on very good terms with it.

      “Your pardon, Lord Dalbury.” The man appeared to realize he did have boundaries.

      Duncan fingered the fine material, stalling for time. “You have yet to tell me where you came by this garment, Matthews. I admit it is very like mine, but there must be many black cloaks of quality in London.”

      “I believe it originated in Madame Vestry’s House of Pleasure on March fifteenth, my lord.”

      A hiss escaped Duncan before he could catch himself, though he knew full well where that cloak had been found.

      “You were there, were you not, my lord? I questioned Madame Vestry this morning. The cloak only came to light last night.”

      Duncan forced his jaw to relax, and gave Matthews the rueful smile he had practiced this morning, for such a moment. “Madame Vestry told you, then, of our assignation?”

      “Your assignation? Yours and who else’s?”

      “Amorina Vestry’s, of course.” He stifled a look of triumph at Matthews’s crestfallen expression.

      “You went to the House of Pleasure to see Madame Vestry?”

      Duncan nodded, completely unabashed. “She was my mistress for several years before I left for Italy. Even though our relationship came to light rather publicly last year, when I returned in March I sought to renew our acquaintance. Not very prudent, perhaps, but then some appetites cannot be sated. But she told you this, of course?”

      Matthews shook his head. “Madame Vestry informed me that you had successfully bid at the tableau auction. She mentioned nothing of an arrangement between you and her.” His tone changed as he now spoke frankly. “I do not yet know the truth of the matter, but if Madame Vestry spoke falsely to me, I have reason to believe she is trying to embroil you in yet another scandal, my lord.”

      Duncan swallowed hard. “What scandal?”

      “A young gentlewoman was kidnapped on March fifteenth and held against her will at Vestry’s establishment. I fear the madam, for whatever reason, may be trying to link your name to this woman.”

      “Christ!” Amorina, whom he had treated as a cherished companion for two years, had betrayed him. Had perhaps even engineered the whole scandal to bring about his utter ruin.

      Duncan walked unsteadily to the sideboard, poured half a tumbler of brandy and took a healthy draught. He stared at his glass, contemplating his options. There seemed to be only one.

      “I assume you are investigating the young woman’s disappearance?” he asked wearily.

      “Oh, she is recovered, my lord. Safe at home with her family. That is how the cloak came to me. She wore it that night when she left the House of Pleasure, but it was misplaced in the furor of the lady’s recovery.” Matthews’s lips thinned. “As she is my kinswoman, I have vowed the villain or villains who abducted her will pay dearly for their actions.” His fervency was touching and horrifying at the same time.

      “Your kinswoman?” Since when did a Runner have noble connections? The situation was spiraling into the realm of nightmare.

      “A distant relation, but one who still commands my protection. I am sure you understand that, my lord.” The grim determination etched in Matthews’s face was reminiscent of his own countenance last spring. He might yet meet this man on a field of honor.

      “Did the young woman say how she came to be wearing the cloak?” How much had Lady Katarina actually confessed to her relation?

      “I have not approached her with that question yet. I hoped you could shed some light on the subject first.”

      “I suppose if she was fleeing the house she could have picked the cloak up anywhere along the corridor. Or chanced upon it in an empty room. I am still unsure if the garment is mine, but there is the possibility. I can’t remember where I took it off.” He raised an eyebrow and affected a salacious smile. “I had other things on my mind, as you may imagine. In any case, I wish you godspeed with your endeavor.” An earnest sentiment, though his actual wishes were somewhat less so. “I will address myself to Madame Vestry at the earliest opportunity, for I certainly want no more scandal attached to my family.”

      “Thank you, my lord. I will return the garment once I have questioned the lady.”

      Duncan waved as though the cloak were a trifle. “As I said, I’m not convinced it is mine, but I hope it will aid you in your search. If that is all, my butler will show you out.”

      From his bedroom window he watched Matthews ride away from Grosvenor Square, but he saw nothing except a beautiful young woman with fiery hair, one possessed of more courage than many men he had known. And he now knew he must meet her without delay.

      Surely Lady Katarina and the earl would attend the Braeton’s ball tonight. Lord and Lady Braeton were prominent horse enthusiasts, so if Aunt Phoebe was correct and the earl had a keen eye for horseflesh, he would certainly want to put in an appearance at Linden House.

      Calling for Anson, Duncan began to divest himself of the ice blue outfit. He recalled Matthew’s words about Amorina’s confession and the knot in the pit of his stomach tightened. His underestimation of his ex-mistress’s desire for revenge might be the worst miscalculation of his life.

      Speculation that Amorina had masterminded Lady Katarina’s kidnapping in order to complete his ruin reared its ugly head again. Why else would the girl have been brought to the House of Pleasure? And Amorina would have known the sight of the lady’s luscious copper hair would ensure he bid on that tableau.

      Anson entered and hurried to remove the diamond studs and satin jacket.

      At least the trap had missed its mark and scandal, even if brewing, had not yet reached the ears of the ton. A reprieve, though a slight one.

      Duncan forced himself to focus on the hoped-for meeting with Lady Katarina. Instead of lifting his spirits, as thought of her so often did, the images coalesced into one