Page 5 of One Night of Scandal
“I’ll escort you home,” he offered.
“That won’t be necessary.” She still spoke as Tavistock, her voice low and gravelly. Suddenly stopping, she turned to face him. “How did you know, and for how long?”
Jack had seen Tavistock—her—bend over once. The curve of a feminine backside had been absolutely unmistakable. Put together with her lush bow-shaped lips and the sparkle of her cerulean eyes framed with impossibly long lashes, her womanhood had been starkly apparent. At least to him. “Suffice it to say, you inadvertently displayed a part of your anatomy that left your sex completely discernible. That was well over a year ago. I don’t remember when specifically.”
She blinked at him. “My…anatomy?”
He coughed. “Your backside. To be specific.” It had left an indelible impression, and Jack had done his best to forget that Tavistock was a woman. But tonight, he couldn’t ignore it, not when she’d planned to march right into one of London’s most exclusivegentleman’sclubs.
She reached down and tugged at the tails of her coat as if she were trying to ensure they covered her sufficiently.
“You’d bent over,” he clarified. “Also, I’m observant.”
“Does anyone else know?”
“Not that I’m aware of. I certainly didn’t tell anyone.” How would that have gone?Did you happen to notice Tavistock’s magnificent arse?
“And yet you’d tell my brother now?” There was a sardonic edge to the question.
“Doesn’t he know?” Jack could have sworn he did. Once Jack had discerned her identity, he noticed they talked quietly from time to time. If one looked very closely, one would see the similarity in their chins.
“Yes, he knows. But not that I came here.” She narrowed her eyes at him with concern. “You won’t really tell him, will you?”
“No, but I probably should. He’s one of my closest friends.” When she opened her mouth, presumably to protest, he said, “However, I won’t, because you’re going to allow me to escort you home. Where is that?”
“Berkeley Square.” She’d finally given up the pretense of Tavistock’s lower register.
Jack hailed a hack and gave the direction to the driver while she climbed into the vehicle. He followed her inside, sitting opposite her on the rear-facing seat.
She cast her head back against the squab and crossed her arms. “Are you sure no one else knows?”
“No, I’mnotsure. As I said, I’ve never discussed it with anyone.” And how wouldthathave gone?Did you know Tavistock is really the Duke of Eastleigh’s sister?He nearly laughed at the thought before soberly continuing, “I can’t imagine Pennington knew. He was eager to drink brandy with you inside the club. How did you plan to get in anyway?”
She took a couple of breaths, and a smile teased her mouth. When she did that, it was impossible not to see a woman. An attractive woman—which he knew from encountering her as Lady Viola several times. “I was waiting for a group to enter and planned to just slip inside along with them.”
“That might have worked.” He was impressed with her forethought, but then her deception clearly took considerable planning and effort. “Or, you may have been immediately discovered and tossed out for not being a member or someone’s guest.”
“Good to know. Next time, I’ll say I’myourguest.”
Not just a believable gentleman, she was also a brazen minx. “You can’t mean to plan to try again?”
“I can and I do. I’m a journalist, and Pennington alerted me to a story I must follow.”
Jack recalled what she’d said earlier. “What did Pennington tell you?”
After a brief hesitation, she told him. “Earlier at the Wicked Duke, he mentioned a rumor about an MP who has aligned himself with the radicals.”
Jack made a sound of disgust low in his throat. “Don’t pay attention to rumors, especially stupid ones like that. There are a number of MPs who are at least sympathetic to the radicals’ concerns—myself included.”
“True, but have any of them provided outright assistance?”
Jack leaned slightly forward, his interest piqued. “What kind of assistance?”
She angled her head and elevated her chin. “I don’t know yet. Unfortunately, you interrupted my investigation.”
“Your…” Jack shook his head. “You can’t mean to conduct an actual investigation.” But she did. She’d said as much.
She recrossed her arms and her brows, which she’d darkened to match her faux hair, pitched low over her indignant eyes. “Why, because I’m a woman?”
