A Perfect Scandal. Tina Gabrielle
Читать онлайн книгу.
Edward stiffened. “Isabel?”
“Mr. Hawksley was with me, you see. We were…together the entire time.”
Isabel heard Lady Yarmouth’s quick intake of breath followed by Lord Walling’s low curse.
“I see.” Edward stood, his expression tight with strain. “And just where might I find Mr. Hawksley?”
In the library of the Westley mansion, Marcus clenched his fists in futile frustration as the two guards eyed him warily. Both had pulled out pistols from their coat pockets and aimed them at his chest as soon as the library door was secured.
Marcus’s jaw hardened. Dante Black knew his business. If the crooked auctioneer had left Marcus alone with one armed guard, it would have been a hell of a fight. But with two? And more critically, with Isabel Cameron somewhere in this house alone, Marcus couldn’t risk starting a battle.
An image of Isabel flashed through his mind as he had last seen her. Long, sable hair, the clearest blue eyes he had ever looked into, and the body of a temptress robed in virginal white. With the feel of all that soft, womanly flesh pressed against him, he had come dangerously close to taking what she had eagerly offered.
If it wasn’t for Dante’s untimely interruption…
Marcus strode to a window behind a dusty oak desk, all the while aware of the guard’s eyes on his every move. Leaning on the window sill, Marcus surveyed the gardens below.
None of this made any sense. Dante Black wanted to blame the theft of the Gainsborough work as well as the assault of one of his men on him. But why?
Marcus knew little of the auctioneer. Dante had worked for the prestigious Bonham’s Auction House. Bonham’s opened its doors in 1793, twenty-one years ago. Thomas Dodd, a well-known print dealer, and Walter Bonham, a book specialist, founded the firm, and its reputation was unsullied. Dante Black had been the head auctioneer at Bonham’s until it was rumored that he had a falling out with Thomas Dodd himself. Since then, Dante had resorted to estate sales of deceased wealthy art patrons. Marcus had attended numerous auctions conducted by Dante over the past year in his quest for quality artwork.
So why would Dante Black want so desperately to accuse Marcus?
They had never exchanged a cross word. To the contrary, Dante had made a lucrative profit from the art Marcus had acquired from him.
Dante’s current hostile behavior was illogical. Unless he was working for someone else, someone who despised Marcus, a rival who wanted him destroyed…
A low knock sounded on the door. One of the guards pocketed his pistol and cracked open the door. He spoke in a low voice as he motioned behind his back for the other guard to put away his pistol.
The door was opened wide, and Edward Cameron, the Earl of Malvern, entered the library.
To Marcus’s surprise, the guards slipped out and closed the door behind them.
“Lord Malvern,” Marcus greeted Isabel’s father, wary of the older man’s stiff posture.
Edward strode forward, his corpulent features twisted in anger. “Well, Mr. Hawksley. You look as if you were expecting me.”
“To be truthful, I was, just not this soon.”
“Your arrogance knows no bounds. My daughter is downstairs as we speak having her reputation torn to shreds and her future destroyed—all in your defense. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“Lord Malvern, nothing happened between Lady Isabel and myself. On my honor—”
“Your honor!” Edward roared. “From what I understand, Mr. Hawksley, you haven’t had honor in over ten years. I showed you nothing but kindness and respect those many years ago. I was aware of your roguish behavior, but I had foolishly believed you would outgrow it. Instead, you lost whatever morals you had possessed when you entered trade and have reduced yourself to ruining the lives of innocent young women.”
“I haven’t ruined anything. We were never together.”
“Do you confess to stealing the painting then?” Edward asked.
“Absolutely not.”
“Then you admit to being alone with Isabel at the time of the theft?”
“Yes, but nothing transpired between us.”
Edward hesitated, and a brief look of uncertainty flashed across his face, but as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. “Whether I believe you or not, Mr. Hawksley, it’s too late. Isabel stood in the parlor just moments ago and confessed to being caught in a highly compromising position with you in the presence of both Lord and Lady Yarmouth and Lord Walling. Needless to say, Lord Walling will not have Isabel now at any price.”
“Then Walling is a fool.”
Edward looked startled, and then said through gritted teeth, “It doesn’t matter. There is no longer an option. You must marry at once.”
Marcus felt an imaginary noose cinch around his neck. “I was wondering when the subject would arise.” He reached up and loosened his tightly knotted cravat with a forefinger. It felt as if the fabric was closing off his air supply.
“Now that you have your alibi, will you do right by her?”
Ah, and there is the rub, Marcus thought.
Isabel had saved him with her galloping tongue and her crazy scheming. No matter how much he did not want to be forced into marriage, he needed an alibi. He was all too aware that he would have been the primary suspect for the theft of the Gainsborough painting if it were not for Isabel’s testimony. Dante had gone to great pains to ensure it. Marcus was grudgingly grateful that Isabel had followed through with her mad plan and told all that they were together during the critical time in question.
But at the same time, he was irked that she had lied about them having a salacious affair.
The hard truth was it would have mattered naught in the eyes of society. She was an unmarried woman caught alone with a bachelor of dreadful character in a room with enough erotic art to tempt a bishop. She was ruined either way. The least he could do in return was salvage her tattered reputation, even though marriage to him was not nearly as desirable, in her father’s eyes, as a union with the titled Lord Walling.
“I’ll agree to whatever terms you set forth,” Marcus said dryly.
“Before I tell Isabel,” Edward said, “I wanted to confront you first—man to man. It’s no secret that I had hoped for Lord Walling as a match for my daughter. He is a titled widower from an established family line. But since that is no longer possible, I hope to save her from the cruelties of society.”
Marcus thought of Isabel’s reaction to the news. Life was ironic indeed. By conniving to get herself out of one unwanted marriage, she had unwittingly trapped herself into another.
Chapter 5
It was dark outside by the time Isabel and her father returned home from the Westley mansion. Her head throbbed, and her back ached between her shoulder blades. Her father hadn’t spoken a word in the carriage the entire journey home. He had stared out the window in stony silence, his whole demeanor severe and angry. She had bitten her lip to stop from asking what had transpired between him and Marcus Hawksley.
By the time the carriage pulled up to their town house on Park Lane, a cold drizzle fell, washing out the May evening in a dreary blur that matched her mood. Isabel trudged behind her father up the front steps and entered the marble vestibule.
The delicious aroma of roast lamb wafted to her, and her stomach growled. She realized she had missed not only luncheon, but dinner as well. She wanted nothing more than to change out of the low-cut silk gown, have her maid deliver a dinner tray to her room, and seek the solace of her watercolors.
The butler took her cloak, and she turned