Free Simply Scandalous by Tamara Lejeune

the Devizes," Swale said wisely. "As I have
already indicated, Mr. Devize's confidence in me remains unshaken. We may depend upon him at least."
    "Yes, the name Devize is not contemptible," the
Duke said absently. "But I was thinking of quite another family. A family whose influence in this matter
would be of the highest order. If they were to embrace
you, the rest of Society should follow its lead."
    Swale cudgeled his brains. "Not the Royal Family!"
he exclaimed after a moment. "But, sir, you despise
the Royal Family."
    "I refer, of course, to the Wayborn family," said
the Duke patiently.
    "The Wayborns! " said Swale, abandoning the cavalier approach. "Have you run mad? It is the Wayborns
who have accused me!"
    "Precisely. And if the Wayborns were to indicate by
some public action that they no longer believe you
guilty, would that not go a long way toward lifting the
clouds?"
    "The clouds would undoubtedly lift," said Swale
with a short, bitter laugh. "The sun would shine, and
the birds would sing. But it ain't going to happen!"
    "If we could convince them-"
    "If I was to go to them with my tail between my legs
and swear to my innocence, you mean?" Swale scoffed.
"Abandon all hope of that, dear Father."
    "Then there is the question of Miss Wayborn."
    "I think the question of Miss Wayborn is better
left to her Maker!"
    "You don't like her," his father guessed. "Too spirited, I suppose."
    "Spirited! I should describe my own excellent sister as spirited, sir. The Wayborn is a man-eating tigress,
an amazon. Indeed, that's what they're calling herthe Amazon."

    "I'm sorry you don't like her, Geoffrey. I like her
very well. Though, I must say, I had not thought her
capable of this."
    Swale stared at him. "Do you mean to say you're acquainted with the Wayborns?"
    "I am acquainted with Miss Wayborn. I danced
with her at Almack's only last week. I found her quite
charming."
    "Charming!" Swale's guffaw was instantly replaced
by a scowl. "I say! What the devil were you doing at
Almack's? The place is nothing but a marriage mart.
I avoid it like the plague. Good God, you're not
thinking of making a fool of yourself with some young
chit? At your age, it's positively indecent! What does
my sister say?"
    "It doesn't signify in the least what Maria says,"
said his Grace, considerably nettled by the unflattering reference to his age. "I've no intention of
making a fool of myself, as you so kindly put it. Your
own excellent mother provided me with an heir. I
have no need of a wife."
    Swale's green eyes narrowed. "Don't say you were
browsing on my behalf!"
    "You'll be glad to know that my efforts have borne
fruit. I had already narrowed the field to three when
this business of the curricle race burst in upon my reflections. Miss Coralie Price-"
    Swale shuddered. "No bosom, sir. And no brain
either. I absolutely insist on one or the other. I don't
ask for both-I know it ain't possible."
    "Lady Serena Calverstock. I knew her father, the
Earl of Ludham, when he was alive."

    "She, at least, has some beauty," Swale said grudgingly. "I suppose I could marry good old Serena,
though she is older than I."
    The Duke looked at him gravely. "She has violet
eyes, Geoffrey."
    "Does she?"
    "What if your son should inherit his father's hair
and his mother's eyes? Violet eyes, Geoffrey, and red
hair. Hardly a desirable combination. Why, the child
would be a freak! The idea is to improve the Auckland
countenance through careful breeding."
    "Is it?"
    "In case you hadn't noticed, what our bloodline
really needs is a truly fine nose. The Calverstock nose
turns up at the end."
    'What do I care if her nose turns up?" Swale wanted
to know. "She's far and away the prettiest woman in
London."
    "If you had a creditable nose, which you don't, or
unexceptional hair, which you don't, I shouldn't
mind in the least if you married her," replied his
father. "But, unfortunately, you have the nose of a
prize-fighter, and only