Page 40 of One Night of Scandal
Nothing.He couldn’t fall in love with Viola. That would be madness for so many reasons. Even if he wanted to wed right now, she had no desire to do so, and that wasn’t going to change in five years if Jack stuck to his marriage schedule.
There was no denying, however, that they were attracted to each other. Perhaps they could have an affair…
Jack straightened and rubbed his forehead as if he could massage the idiocy out of his brain. Was he really contemplating a liaison with a duke’s sister? Scandal might be well and good for royal dukes, but Jack was simply an MP with cabinet aspirations. Not that any of that mattered—he couldn’t sully Viola in such a way. Yes, she was an independent woman who forged her own path, but he’d already overstepped in ways he shouldn’t have.
If he were a true gentleman, he’d cut ties with her completely. This investigation wasn’t going anywhere, and could end up in disaster if they weren’t careful.
Viola would be upset. She was absolutely committed to writing this article about the attack on the prince. What could she possibly write? Perhaps he could give her other information to write about—topics from the House of Commons that she could distill into a weekly column. He’d ask her about it. Together, they could come up with something that would inspire and excite her.
But then they’d still be working as a team, and that contradicted what he needed to do.
Hell.He’d made a mess, and he feared untangling himself would only ensure things got even messier.
It was a splendid afternoon for a ride or stroll in Hyde Park. It was the type of day and the time of the Season that brought the highest number of people out, and therefore it somewhat resembled a swarm of bees. Vehicles and horses jockeyed for position, and pedestrians hardly moved because they were constantly running into people they knew and stopping to converse.
Amidst all this, Viola tried to find Jack. For now, she sat in Grandmama’s brougham as it traveled—slowly—around the Ring. His note had said to meet him here just after five o’clock, but now she wished they’d met earlier, before it had become such a crush.
After a quarter hour, she still didn’t see him and sat back against the seat, feeling defeated. What if she never found him? She was dying to know what had transpired at the Spencean meeting.
At last, she caught sight of his familiar form striding along the footpath. She reached for the door. “Grandmama, I’m going to get out and take a walk.”
The footman jumped down and opened the door before Viola could do so.
“I’m going to have Turner park in the shade,” Grandmama said. “It’s just a trifle too warm for me today.”
“I’ll look for you.” Viola stepped down with the footman’s assistance and made her way to the footpath. A butterfly flitted past her head, and she likened the fluttering of its wings to the giddiness in her belly.
Giddy at the prospect of seeing Jack.
He bowed when they met and offered her his arm so they could take a respectable promenade. In her mind, she was spiriting him off to a secluded grove where they could continue what they’d been doing in that closet at the ball…
“I’m pleased to see you are all right after last night’s meeting,” she said.
“I am, thank you. Overall, it was a pointless endeavor, I’m afraid.”
She snapped her head toward him in distress. “Was it?”
He nodded grimly. “Who among that group would admit to me, an MP, that they’d been involved with the attack on the prince in some way? The moment I broached the subject, offense was taken, and rightly so, I suppose.” He shook his head. “I am not an investigator, and I’m beginning to think we should leave that to Bow Street.”
“Should we go to Bow Street?” she asked eagerly.
“And tell them what?”
She slowed. “We could show them the letter I received about you.”
He stopped entirely. “You still have it?”
“It’s securely locked away—I thought it was important to keep it as evidence.”
“That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose.” His tone was wry. “It’s also incriminating, don’t you think?”
“Which is why it’s safely hidden.” She lowered her voice even more. “While I’d like to write a story about whatever happened, I think our primary goal right now should be ensuring your reputation.”
His gaze locked with hers, the dark walnut of his eyes heating. “Viola, that is—”
She would never know what it was because they were interrupted at that very moment by the arrival of Mr. Caldwell and Sir Humphrey.
“Barrett, I’ve heard some distressing news,” Caldwell said, his mouth forming something between a frown and a grimace. Sir Humphrey stood beside him, looking equally disturbed.
