One Night of Scandal Page 2

  “I know, but you don’t spend as much time here as you did. Neither does Cole. Too busy enjoying being married. As you should be.”

  Val frowned. “We had an agreement. If you’re going to continue this deception, you’ll do it under my supervision.”

  She gave him an apologetic smile. “You aren’t always here, and I have a column to write. Anyway, I’m leaving. I promise I’ll inform you next time.”

  “Where is Grandmama?” Val asked.

  Viola resided with their grandmother and occasionally went out with her in the evening, depending on her destination. Most of the time, however, Viola preferred to stay home—or come to the Wicked Duke. “At a card party.”

  “If she only knew…” Val breathed.

  “She never will.” Viola glanced over the salon to see if anyone noted their whispered conversation in the corner. They didn’t appear to.

  “Perhaps it’s time you cease this behavior. Every time you dress as Tavistock, you risk being discovered.”

  “After all this time, I highly doubt that would happen. However, we’re drawing attention standing here whispering. I’m going now. Give my love to Isabelle.”

  “I will. Go straight home,” he said.

  Viola nodded, then she walked into the main salon and deposited her tankard on the bar. After bidding good night to Doyle, she left the tavern and hailed a hack.

  “Where to?” the driver asked.

  Anticipation curled through her as she contemplated her destination. “Brooks’s.”

  Chapter 2

  Jack Barrett stepped out of Brooks’s, anxious to be on his way. If not for the meeting one of his fellow MPs had arranged, he would’ve skipped the club entirely. He much preferred the informal and convivial atmosphere at the Wicked Duke.

  “Thank you for coming tonight,” Viscount Orford said from behind him, drawing Jack to turn. Orford had been part of the meeting. Though they didn’t always see eye to eye—Orford was from a rotten borough and didn’t appreciate Jack speaking out against them—they often found themselves working on the same committees.

  Jack pushed out a breath. “I fear it was a waste of time.”

  “I do not. Any occasion we attempt to breach our political differences is well spent.” Orford, a muscular fellow, clapped him on the shoulder with zeal. “I look forward to our next debate.”

  “As do I.” Jack turned, intending to move onto the pavement, and nearly collided with Gregory Pennington, an MP whose titled grandfather was the sole reason he possessed a membership to Brooks’s.

  “Evening, Barrett,” he greeted. “You aren’t on your way out, are you?”

  “I am, in fact. My meeting has concluded.”

  Pennington’s dark eyes widened. “Meeting? I hope there weren’t more than fifty of you.” He chortled as if the Seditious Meetings Act was a jest instead of an abomination.

  Jack gritted his teeth. “There were not. Once you go inside, you will note, however, that there are at least fifty persons in the subscription room.”

  “But they’re talking and gambling, not discussing grievances.”

  Arching a brow, Jack decided to provoke the man. “Are you saying we were raising grievances in our meeting?”

  “I was joking,” Pennington said, pouting. “You’ve no sense of humor on this topic, I see.”

  “None. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m for the Wicked Duke.” Which was where Jack usually encountered Pennington.

  “Just came from there.” Pennington focused on something beyond Jack’s shoulder. “Speaking of the Wicked Duke, is that Tavistock?”

  The air in Jack’s lungs escaped in a whoosh as he spun about and searched wildly for the man in question. There he was on the pavement, contemplating the entrance to the club, a diminutive figure in his typical overlarge costume.

  Pennington was already on his way toward Tavistock before Jack could halt him. And what could he say anyway? He ended up muttering, “Bloody hell,” as he followed Pennington.

  “Tavistock,” Pennington said, “I didn’t know you were coming here. We could have shared a hack.”

  Tavistock nodded vaguely. “It was a spontaneous decision. I thought I’d come and see what I could find out about what you said earlier.”

  “Indeed?” Pennington stroked his chin. “Let us go inside. We’ll have some brandy and poke around.” He grinned at Tavistock, and Jack didn’t like it one bit. What had Pennington said that had lured Tavistock to Brooks’s where Tavistock was most certainly not a member?

  Jack gave Pennington a smooth smile, then turned a hardened gaze on the younger man. “As it happens, I need to speak with Tavistock privately.”

  “Ah, well. I’ll just go in, then.” Pennington looked toward Tavistock. “Find me when you’re finished. Mayhap I’ll have news for you.” His lips spread in an eager grin before he took himself into the club.

  Tavistock didn’t quite meet Jack’s eyes. “Why do you need to speak with me?”

  “Walk with me.” Jack pivoted, anxious to usher Tavistock away from the entrance. “I was just on my way to the Wicked Duke. We can share a hack.”

  “As I said, I’ve only just arrived, so I won’t be leaving yet.” Tavistock’s tone was affable. “You heard Pennington. We have plans for a drink.”

  Jack stepped toward Tavistock and lowered his voice to a mere whisper. “If you go inside, it’s likely someone will realize you are not a member.”

  “How do you know I’m not a member?” Color rose in Tavistock’s cheeks above his dark brown whiskers. They were truly the most ridiculous things, only slightly worse than his wiry brown wig.

  “Because last time I checked, Brooks’s didn’t extend membership to women.”

  All the color above Lady Viola Fairfax’s faux facial hair drained until she was the color of alabaster.

  “Shall we go?” He nearly offered her his arm. Wouldn’t that have set the tongues wagging!

  She pressed her mouth into a firm line and glanced toward the door. Her hesitation was maddening. “You can’t go in. If you’re found out…” He shook his head briskly. “Does Eastleigh know you’re here?”

  “That’s none of your concern.” She managed to keep her Tavistock voice in place, even in a whisper, and for that, he gave her credit.

  “Then I’ll ask him.” He’d known Eastleigh since Oxford and considered him a good friend.

  She blanched again. “Please don’t. I’ll go.” She muttered an oath.

  “You’ve quite mastered this act,” he said.

  She arched a brow at him. “Apparently, I haven’t.” Then she stalked past him, and he had to practically dash after her to keep up.

  “I’ll escort you home,” he offered.

  “That won’t be necessary.” She still spoke as Tavistock, her voice low and gravelly. Suddenly stopping, she turned to face him. “How did you know, and for how long?”

  Jack had seen Tavistock—her—bend over once. The curve of a feminine backside had been absolutely unmistakable. Put together with her lush bow-shaped lips and the sparkle of her cerulean eyes framed with impossibly long lashes, her womanhood had been starkly apparent. At least to him. “Suffice it to say, you inadvertently displayed a part of your anatomy that left your sex completely discernible. That was well over a year ago. I don’t remember when specifically.”

  She blinked at him. “My…anatomy?”

  He coughed. “Your backside. To be specific.” It had left an indelible impression, and Jack had done his best to forget that Tavistock was a woman. But tonight, he couldn’t ignore it, not when she’d planned to march right into one of London’s most exclusive gentleman’s clubs.

  She reached down and tugged at the tails of her coat as if she were trying to ensure they covered her sufficiently.

  “You’d bent over,” he clarified. “Also, I’m observant.”

  “Does anyone else know?”

  “Not that I’m aware of. I certainly didn’t tell anyone.” How would that have gone? Did
you happen to notice Tavistock’s magnificent arse?

  “And yet you’d tell my brother now?” There was a sardonic edge to the question.

  “Doesn’t he know?” Jack could have sworn he did. Once Jack had discerned her identity, he noticed they talked quietly from time to time. If one looked very closely, one would see the similarity in their chins.

  “Yes, he knows. But not that I came here.” She narrowed her eyes at him with concern. “You won’t really tell him, will you?”

  “No, but I probably should. He’s one of my closest friends.” When she opened her mouth, presumably to protest, he said, “However, I won’t, because you’re going to allow me to escort you home. Where is that?”

  “Berkeley Square.” She’d finally given up the pretense of Tavistock’s lower register.

  Jack hailed a hack and gave the direction to the driver while she climbed into the vehicle. He followed her inside, sitting opposite her on the rear-facing seat.

  She cast her head back against the squab and crossed her arms. “Are you sure no one else knows?”

  “No, I’m not sure. As I said, I’ve never discussed it with anyone.” And how would that have gone? Did you know Tavistock is really the Duke of Eastleigh’s sister? He nearly laughed at the thought before soberly continuing, “I can’t imagine Pennington knew. He was eager to drink brandy with you inside the club. How did you plan to get in anyway?”

  She took a couple of breaths, and a smile teased her mouth. When she did that, it was impossible not to see a woman. An attractive woman—which he knew from encountering her as Lady Viola several times. “I was waiting for a group to enter and planned to just slip inside along with them.”

  “That might have worked.” He was impressed with her forethought, but then her deception clearly took considerable planning and effort. “Or, you may have been immediately discovered and tossed out for not being a member or someone’s guest.”

  “Good to know. Next time, I’ll say I’m your guest.”

  Not just a believable gentleman, she was also a brazen minx. “You can’t mean to plan to try again?”

  “I can and I do. I’m a journalist, and Pennington alerted me to a story I must follow.”

  Jack recalled what she’d said earlier. “What did Pennington tell you?”

  After a brief hesitation, she told him. “Earlier at the Wicked Duke, he mentioned a rumor about an MP who has aligned himself with the radicals.”

  Jack made a sound of disgust low in his throat. “Don’t pay attention to rumors, especially stupid ones like that. There are a number of MPs who are at least sympathetic to the radicals’ concerns—myself included.”

  “True, but have any of them provided outright assistance?”

  Jack leaned slightly forward, his interest piqued. “What kind of assistance?”

  She angled her head and elevated her chin. “I don’t know yet. Unfortunately, you interrupted my investigation.”

  “Your…” Jack shook his head. “You can’t mean to conduct an actual investigation.” But she did. She’d said as much.

  She recrossed her arms and her brows, which she’d darkened to match her faux hair, pitched low over her indignant eyes. “Why, because I’m a woman?”

  “I didn’t say that, but yes, in part.”

  “You’re no better than those ninnyhammers at the Ladies’ Gazette.”

  He blinked at her. “Don’t you write for the Ladies’ Gazette?”

  “As S. D. Tavistock. They had no interest in hiring Viola to write for them.” She threw her hands up and lifted her voice in mock horror. “Heaven forfend a woman actually write for a woman’s magazine!”

  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t investigate but that it will be difficult for you.” When she opened her mouth, he added, “Yes, as a woman.”

  Her jaw clenched. “You are, sadly, correct. It will be difficult, which is why you deterring me from Brooks’s tonight was so very frustrating.”

  “I stand by what I did.”

  “That’s not surprising. You’re a typical man who thinks he can order a woman about. However, I’m not your family, and I’m certainly not your wife.”

  “No, thank goodness. I’ve no need of one of those.”

  “I’ve even less need of a husband.” She turned her head toward the window as they approached Berkeley Square.

  He softened his tone. “It was never my intent to order you about. I was trying to prevent a catastrophe.”

  “I am trying to appreciate your concern.”

  Jack heard the disappointment in her voice and considered her perspective, how bloody hard it must be to be told you can’t do things because you’re a woman. “How about I help you with your investigation?”

  She glanced over at him from the side of her eye. “Why?”

  “Because I could ensure you’re safe and help you gain access to…places.” He wasn’t sure he wanted to take her to Brooks’s, even as his guest, but perhaps he’d consider it.

  She gave him an arch look. “Or maybe you want to find out who this MP is.”

  Definitely. “I must admit to being curious. However, you should consider it’s probably not even true.”

  The coach pulled into Berkeley Square and stopped near the curb. She reached for the door at the same moment Jack did. His hand covered hers, and they both pulled back as if the door handle had been on fire.

  Their gazes connected for a brief moment, and Jack felt the same imagined heat as the not-blistering door handle. Except he was afraid the heat had been generated by them, close together in this small hack. “Where is your house?” he asked, staring out the window to avoid looking at her, as if doing so would somehow intensify whatever had sparked between them.

  “In the middle on this side. I didn’t give the number because I don’t like to get out in front. I go in through the mews so I can change before I go inside.”

  “The dowager is not aware of your masquerade?” Jack had met her grandmother, the formidable Dowager Duchess of Eastleigh, on a few occasions.

  “Absolutely not, and she never will.”

  The door to the hack opened, and the driver stood outside.

  Lady Viola jumped down. Jack followed her and paid the driver before she could.

  She pursed her lips at Jack as the driver climbed back onto the hack. “You didn’t need to do that.”

  “I don’t need to walk you home either, but I’m going to. On second thought, I do need to walk you home.”

  The hack pulled away, and she stood beneath the street lantern with a perturbed expression. “I’ve done so countless times without your supervision.”

  “Obviously, but if this is the one night you encountered difficulty and I’d abandoned you, I’d never forgive myself. Neither would Eastleigh.”

  “Val will not know we were together, not unless you tell him.” She sent him a wary look. “You said you weren’t going to.”

  “I won’t.” Taking a deep breath and slowly expelling it, he summoned a placid smile. “Let us have a truce. I should very much like to help you determine whether an MP has aided the radicals in some way. May I do that?”

  “Since you’ve asked very nicely, and I suspect your assistance may prove beneficial, I will accept your offer.” She flashed him a brief smile before growing serious once more. “I require your solemn pledge that you will inform me of anything you hear and will not try to stop me from publishing my findings.”

  “Is that why you’re doing this?”

  “Yes. As I said, I’m a journalist in search of the truth. I want to write something more than ‘observations from a gentleman.’”

  Jack couldn’t stop the short laugh that escaped him. “A gentleman who isn’t really a gentleman.”

  She surprised him with a grin, and once again, he saw the radiant woman beneath the disguise. He also felt that same flash of heat that had accompanied their hands touching.

  Then she pivoted and walked to the mews that ran along the backs of the houses. At t
he entrance to the mews, she stopped and faced him. “This is as far as you can come. I don’t want to be seen arriving with you.”

  “Then someone knows you are Tavistock?”

  “Yes, the head coachman and my maid keep my secret. Aside from Val and his wife and Val’s partner, Colehaven, they are the only ones who know. And you, apparently.”

  “I will keep your secret until—and if—a time arises when I cannot for your own safety.”

  “That is fair. I should like to continue my investigation tomorrow evening. Can you meet me at the Wicked Duke? We can devise a strategy and leave from there.”

  “I can’t tomorrow night. Can we go the night after?”

  “I’ll see you then.” She started to turn, but hesitated. “I apologize if I was a bit thorny. For the first time in ages, I was excited about the prospect of writing something that might matter.”

  “And I prevented your investigation.”

  She nodded. “However, I—begrudgingly—appreciate it.” She smiled at him again. “Truly.” Then she turned and walked away.

  “I look forward to our appointment,” he called after her.

  Would he really? He didn’t particularly have time to oversee a zealous journalist. And yet, he was eager to find out if there was any truth to this rumor she’d heard.

  As he walked back to the street in search of a hack, he considered what she’d said about publishing her findings. Would the Ladies’ Gazette publish something political, something that even mentioned radicals?

  It was an anxious time with the Seditious Meetings Act and the Committee of Secrecy, not to mention the attack on the Prince Regent. Many of Jack’s colleagues were fearful, and others were outraged.

  Jack hailed a hack and was soon on his way to the Wicked Duke. He’d toss back an ale and see what he could learn. Hopefully, Eastleigh wouldn’t be there. Jack felt uncomfortable not telling him about Lady Viola, but he’d made a deal with her, and he was a man of his word.

  Also, he looked forward to working with her.

  The realization was almost as shocking as seeing her outside Brooks’s with the intent of going inside. Lady Viola was unlike any woman he’d ever met, and he had to admit he was intrigued. And not just by her lovely backside.