A Scandalous Situation. Patricia Frances Rowell
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relatives across pistols at dawn. But was he ready to do that? Did he want to marry this particular lady? Or might that prove a disaster for both of them?
On balance, he decided that it would not. He felt a need for a companion. A great many marriages were contracted on no acquaintance at all. And he found Miss Kethley a very interesting companion—talented, intelligent, beautiful. He was a bit troubled about her habit—apparently a very persistent habit—of wandering about the fells alone. But perhaps if he provided her with some of the adventure she craved, she would tolerate him as an escort.
And he had given a great deal of thought to the fact that she seemed to avoid being touched. A wife with such an aversion might make for a rather chilly bed. Not something with which he wanted to saddle himself for the rest of his life. He hoped he wasn’t thinking like a cockscomb to believe that he could overcome that prejudice. Rob smiled to himself. After all, he had succeeded in getting her to dance with him. Surely he could succeed in…
He just hadn’t wanted to marry again yet.
But Lord Rosley was speaking. “Take that chair, Duncan.” His lordship eased himself into a similar chair and carefully lifted one slippered foot onto a low stool. “May I offer you some Madeira? I’ll ask you to serve yourself.” He winced. “Damned gout!”
“Thank you. May I serve you some as well?” Rob went to the desk and lifted the decanter. Was that a growl issuing from his prospective father-in-law?
“Might as well. The curst quacks say it aggravates the curst gout, but I can’t see that it makes a curst bit of difference to leave it off.”
Rob poured two glasses. Hmm. Not a propitious moment to be attempting to mollify a distrustful father. A man suffering the agony of gout was not likely to be amenable to reason. But then again, neither was he likely to call one out into a snowy dawn.
Rob handed a glass to his lordship and returned to his chair. Time to resort to plain speaking. “My lord, please allow me to reassure you as to your daughter’s welfare. On my honor, she took no hurt at my hands. Nor was she injured in the snowslides. She must have had bruises, but she did not complain of them.”
“No, she wouldn’t.” Lord Rosley shifted his limb on the footstool and grimaced. “In her way she is a very strong young lady.”
“I noticed that.” Especially while she was pointing a pistol in my direction. “Her appearance is deceptive. One would not think…”
“There are many things about Iantha that one would not think.” Her father stared thoughtfully into the fire for a moment.
“The thing is…” Rob cleared his throat uneasily. This was the tricky part. “I believe that the most difficult circumstance of the situation for her was that I have only just returned from India and have not even a housekeeper to act as my hostess. Of course, we showed her every courtesy, but she seemed very distressed.”
“I can imagine.” Rosley sipped his wine, giving Rob a calculating glance over the rim of his glass. “Then you are not married?”
“No, sir. I am a widower.” There it was. The marriage hint. Rob drew a deep breath. “I would, however, be honored to make Miss Kethley my wife.”
“As you should be.” His lordship stared at him silently for several heartbeats.
Now what exactly did he mean by that? Rob sipped his own wine and awaited a further response. It was not forthcoming. He frowned. “I realize, of course, that my title is not the equal of yours and that I have engaged in trade for the last few years, but I can keep your daughter in comfort. I feel certain you would want my man of business to call upon yours to assure yourself of that fact.”
Lord Rosley waved a dismissive hand. “No, no. You misunderstand me. I daresay you can keep her, not only in comfort, but in luxury. Rumor has it that you are coming home a very wealthy man—a nabob, in fact. And your family has carried your title longer than mine has been in possession of ours. I have no objection to a man’s engaging in honest trade. All of us invest in various enterprises. Don’t know why we quibble at trade.”
He turned to gaze again into the fire. Rob waited. At last his lordship sighed and looked at Rob. “I meant only that any man should be honored to have Iantha for a wife. She is a fine young woman.” He moved his foot again, using both hands this time. “And I am comforted by your willingness to act as a gentleman and do the proper thing. I would be extremely happy to see her married to a man of your caliber.”
“But…?” Rob raised his eyebrows.
“But there is a circumstance you should know. I will understand, of course, if you wish to withdraw your offer.”
Rob’s eyebrows climbed higher. “I’m listening.”
Rosley nodded, then continued with the air of a man speaking between clenched teeth. “When Iantha was eighteen, she was attacked by a gang of…” His fist struck the arm of his chair. “I know no word foul enough for them. But not to wrap it up in clean linen—she was raped by several masked men. She does not even know how many.”
“My God!” Rob’s lips drew back in a snarl. “The… You are correct. No word filthy enough for them exists. No wonder she cannot endure the touch of a man.”
“Nor of anyone else. She even draws back from her mother when she seeks to comfort her. She shows physical affection only to her younger sister and brothers, but even with Thomas, since he is becoming a man…” Lord Rosley shook his head sadly.
For a moment Rob sat stunned by the enormity of the incident. That explained the proliferation of pistols. How had such a slight lady even survived? His own fist came down on his chair arm as a dark fury welled up in him. Had he but five minutes alone with each of those bastards…!
But he would not have that.
Rob took a long breath and let the anger flow out of him. “How did this happen?”
Rosley took a fortifying sip of wine. “It was the fall before she was to come out in the spring season. My oldest daughter, Andrea, was expecting a baby, and of course, Lady Rosley intended to go to her. But as bad luck would have it, Valeria and Nathaniel were both taken ill with the measles and needed her care. Complications developed. The children were very sick.”
He paused in his tale, deep feeling marking his face. “Iantha had already had the measles, so was in no danger of communicating them to Andrea, who had not. She wanted to see the child and London—get a feel for town before her come-out. So I consented to her going to help her sister. I would have accompanied her, of course, but I have never had the damn measles, either. Still haven’t had them. To be safe, I sent her in our own coach with a coachman, a footman and two armed outriders. And her old nurse as her chaperon.”
He stopped again, his voice choked with emotion. Rob waited silently and respectfully. After a time his lordship again took up the story. “They shot all four men from ambush and tied them to the wheels of the coach. One of them died. The nurse they killed out of hand.”
Now he ceased speaking altogether, bowed his head and covered his eyes with one hand. Rob’s heart ached with sympathy, and he wiped a tear from his own eye. “Lord Rosley, I can only imagine what you feel, but I believe I have some idea. I lost my daughter to illness.”
“Then perhaps you can comprehend.” The older man lifted his head. “To be laid by the heels here while those devils tormented my sweet Iantha… A day does not pass that I am not consumed by guilt.” He closed his eyes, his jaw tight.
What a horror for a father! Rob well understood the guilt, too, and the helplessness of not being able to save his child. It always seemed that there should have been something he could have done. He gave Lord Rosley a moment to compose himself, and then asked, “The authorities have never apprehended these villains?”
Lord Rosley shook his head. “Strangely, they have not. I hired Bow Street to pursue the matter, but they made no progress at all, even though they tell me that several similar incidents occurred at different