Convenient Proposal To The Lady. Julia Justiss

actually skilled. ‘How cleverly you’ve caught the form of the bird, as if he were about to take flight.’

      ‘Thank you,’ she said at last. ‘But you have the advantage, sir; you know who I am, while I still cannot place you. I am sure we are not acquainted, for had we been introduced, I would certainly have remembered you.’ She scanned him again from head to toe, as if noting every detail. ‘Are you Lord Fulton’s secretary, perhaps?’

      She was observant! She’d drawn just the conclusion he’d been aiming for when he donned this disguise: his cultivated tone of voice indicating he wasn’t a farm worker or a labourer; his clothing well made, but too worn and unremarkable to proclaim him the sort of fashionable peer Lady Fulton would have invited to her house party.

      ‘No.’

      ‘But not a newly arriving guest, either. You’re not dressed for it, nor do you carry any baggage. How did you know me, then?’

      ‘I’ve been staying in the village, where the gossip is all about the assembly at Dornton Manor. One of the attendees, Lady Alyssa Lambornne, was described as petite, dark-haired and very fond of sketching.’

      Looking wary now, she said, ‘Were you asking about me, particularly, and if so, why? I know we’ve never met!’

      ‘Let me rectify that. Lady Alyssa, may I present Mr Benedict Tawny, Member of Parliament for Launton.’ He swept her a bow.

      Her frown deepened. ‘Excuse me for acting as witless as my father always claims me to be, but I’m afraid your parliamentary status doesn’t enlighten me at all about your purpose for coming here. Are you to consult with Lord Fulton?’

      ‘No, I’m not acquainted with either Lord or Lady Fulton. I came here to find you, Lady Alyssa, and am delighted to have encountered you where we could have a private chat, without my having to figure out how to steal you away.’

      ‘You came here to have a private chat with me?’ she echoed. ‘I can’t imagine why! Would you explain, please?’

      ‘Certainly, and I don’t wonder at your confusion. We have not met before, but I was at Oxford with your brother, Lord Harleton. And I’m afraid I have some rather distressing information to impart to you.’

      The woman’s puzzled expression cleared. ‘Now I remember! You were one of the group Harleton called “Hadley’s Hellions”,’ college mates who intended to go into politics and reform government. Although he usually called you the Chil—’ She stopped suddenly, heat suffusing her face. ‘A name I shall not repeat.’

      The Chilford Bastard. Ben clenched his teeth against the automatic wave of anger the epithet evoked.

      He knew his own experience made him far more sensitive than the rest of society about the disproportionate amount of shame and blame shouldered by a woman caught up in scandal—while the man’s behaviour was passed over. But watching the way his mother, whose only sin had been believing the promise of marriage given her by the man she loved, had been treated after his father’s family brought all their weight to bear to prevent their son wedding a woman they didn’t find suitable, he couldn’t help but be rubbed on the raw by a plan to target an innocent female.

      Hence his presence here.

      Most women of ruined character had no recourse but the streets, if their families rejected them. His mother had been lucky; though he’d hated his father for years for abandoning her for wealth and a title, the Viscount had made sure they had a place to live and enough to eat. Which hardly compensated for turning his mother into an outcast, and himself into a child who’d grown up taunted by the bully of the moment for being a bastard.

      Pulling himself back to the present, he said, ‘Thank you for not repeating the name—though I’m distressed your brother would use such language around his maiden sister.’

      ‘If you know Harleton at all, you know he does whatever he feels like, whenever he feels like it, without regard for the wishes—or sensibilities—of anyone else.’

      ‘I’m only too well aware of that,’ he said with a grimace. Though he’d made no attempt to hide the fact that he’d been born out of wedlock, most of his Oxford classmates discreetly avoided the topic. Not so Lord Harleton, who’d never missed an opportunity to point him out as ‘the Chilford Bastard’.

      ‘So you are not one of his...particular friends?’

      ‘Far from it. Without wishing to give offence, I must confess that, at Oxford and since, I have avoided your brother whenever possible.’

      For some reason, that comment made her laugh. ‘It seems we have at least one thing in common, then. But why have you discovered so much about me and why would you want to speak with me? Has something happened to Harleton?’

      ‘It does involve your brother, but as far as I know, he is in good health. I’m afraid it’s rather complicated.’

      ‘If Harleton is involved, I’m sure it is. And probably disreputable, as well.’ Setting down her sketchbook, she patted the log beside her. ‘You’d better explain.’

      ‘It’s disreputable for certain,’ he said as he seated himself rather further away than she’d indicated. Which was only prudent; their exchange of rational conversation might have muted the sensual attraction that had immobilised him upon first seeing her, but nothing save death could eliminate it entirely.

      ‘As I said, I’m a Member of Parliament,’ he began. ‘Some fellow members and I often gather at a public house near the Houses of Parliament, the Quill and Gavel. Parliament being currently out of session, I was there alone about a week ago when another former Oxford acquaintance noticed me and pulled me into a group of gentlemen who were proposing a wager. Organised by the Earl of Denbry, who is no admirer of your brother.’

      ‘Denbry!’ she exclaimed. ‘Yes, I’ve heard Harleton snarling about him. Apparently they’ve been trying to best each other at various dubious activities since their Oxford days. Was this some challenge, intended to discomfort my brother?’

      ‘It was. But of a particularly venal sort. Your brother recently ran afoul of Denbry by overbidding him for a team of horses he wanted. And then, even worse, by stealing away the...loyalty and affection of a woman.’

      ‘That opera dancer?’ At Ben’s raised eyebrows, she said, ‘My brother’s servants love to gossip about his horses, his women and his gambling, and my maid loves to repeat the stories to me. My brother outbid Denbry for her...affections?’

      ‘Apparently. Which so infuriated Denbry that he designed a revenge he intended Harleton to remember for the rest of his life. Much as I hate to even speak of so despicable a wager to a lady, I felt you must be warned. What Denbry proposed was to have one of his group...seduce and abandon you.’

      Her eyes widening in surprise, Lady Alyssa gasped—and then burst out laughing.

      ‘What a faraddidle! Surely you can’t expect me to believe so preposterous a tale. Was that the wager, to get me to believe your outrageous story, so I would go off into hysterics you could report back to my gloating brother?’

      ‘I only wish it were. Preposterous it may be, to say nothing of venal and disgusting, but I assure you, Denbry’s plan to seduce you is the absolute truth. The challenge was accepted by this group of men, who all chipped in a stake, the winner to receive it upon the...successful accomplishment of its terms.’

      Her mirth fading, she studied him again with that unusual intensity, sending another wave of awareness through him. While he resisted it, she said, ‘Unless you are the most convincing actor in the history of dramatic farce, I’m forced to consider that you might be telling the truth. So there really is a wager? In this game of besting one another, Denbry seeks to trump a stolen mistress with a ruined sister?’

      ‘I’m afraid so.’ Having voiced the despicable proposition, Ben felt sick—and ashamed. Denbry didn’t just give aristocrats a bad name, he tarnished the whole male gender.

      ‘But