Page 71 of Only Scandal Will Do

“Do you know Mr. Randolph Sutton, Grayson?” Duncan asked

“No, my lord. I have not met the gentleman.”

An ill-conceived elopement would be an answer to his prayers right now. Perhaps that’s why his sister had accompanied the man willingly. “So what did the gentleman look like?”

“He was dressed very fashionably.” Grayson paused. “Perhaps too fashionably, begging your pardon, my lord.”

“A fop?”

“In my estimation, my lord.”

Regretfully, that eliminated Sutton, whose idea of ostentatious clothing was limited to wearing lace at his throat and cuffs, instead of merely the latter.

“Continue. He was tall? Dark or fair?”

“He was much the same height as Lady Juliet. Dark hair and eyes. But the most telling thing, was his accent.”

“Accent?” Duncan’s suspicions took a sudden turn for the worse.

“French, my lord.”

New fear bloomed in his heart. “Christ! St. Cyr!” He jumped up and paced to the window, clenching his hair as he restrained himself from tearing it out by the roots.

“You know him, Duncan?” Katrina asked.

He could not speak, but managed a nod. When he had collected himself, he turned to his wife, who had followed him, her mouth set in grim lines. “I do. He is Philippe Tondereau,

Vicomte St. Cyr, the man Juliet was betrothed to.”

“The one Juliet said left her at the altar?” Katarina’s shocked tone fell heavily on his ears.

“Hardly at the altar. Juliet was here in London with me and he was in Paris. His father sent a letter breaking off the engagement for reasons of propriety.”

“He was not of age?”

“Not then, although I believe he has reached his majority since. I should never have consented to the young pup, but Juliet was quite taken with him and I was being indulgent.” Duncan shook his head at his folly.

“Then it could still be all right? Perhaps when he appeared, Juliet realized she still had affections for him and they have eloped?” Katarina’s hopeful expression struck an icy chord in his heart.

“I will not approve such a match, even if it has taken place.”

“Duncan! Why ever not? Surely it is preferable to having her ruined?” Katarina stared at him as though he had lost his mind.

“After the insults his family heaped upon ours, I will do everything in my power to have any such marriage annulled,” he fumed. “I am her guardian until she is twenty-one, and trustee of her inheritance until she is twenty-five. As of now, she cannot marry without my consent. If he has compromised her, I will see to it he meets my sword without delay.” That cold conviction steadied him. He could deal with St. Cyr most effectively with a blade in his hand. And would enjoy the work.

“But, Duncan, why--”

“Begging your pardon, my lady, my lord,” Grayson interrupted, “but the Frenchman was not the man Lady Juliet left with.”

“What!” They said in unison, and turned to stare at the butler, who was wringing his hands.

“There were two men who called on her that morning?” The events of seven weeks ago were beginning to sound like a Drury Lane farce, though there was nothing remotely amusing about this bizarre situation. “Who was the other man, Grayson?”

“I do not know, my lord. I did not see that gentleman.”

“Grayson, what the hell happened that morning?”

The butler straightened. “After I showed the Frenchman into the parlor, I announced him to Lady Juliet. She seemed shocked when I told her it was a Frenchman, but said she would join him. I immediately sent upstairs for her maid, thinking it best that she have a chaperone. Glynis came down and I showed her into this room, giving her instructions to stay back there by the window, but not to leave her mistress’s side. While I was here, I heard Lady Juliet and the gentleman arguing.”