One Night Of Scandal

Epilogue

‘What an extraordinary business that led up to your brother’s marriage,’ Lady Sally Saltire said, a fortnight later as she shared a late-night glass of brandy with Justin Kestrel in her study at Saltires. ‘Although I had predicted that Richard and Deborah would marry, I had not imagined that it would come about in such a sensational manner. The whole of Woodbridge is still agog!’ She cast him a thoughtful glance. ‘Who could have played such a trick on them?’

‘I am sure that I have no notion,’ Justin Kestrel said, his dark gaze betraying nothing but blandness.

Lady Sally knew him too well to be deceived. ‘Nonsense, my dear Justin. There is something havey-cavey going on in Midwinter and you know it!’

‘Mayhap so.’ Justin’s tone was as unrevealing as his expression and Lady Sally sighed.

‘I can see that you mean to tell me nothing.’ She fidgeted a little with her glass. ‘Just so long as you do not suspect me, Justin.’

There was a flash of feeling in Justin Kestrel’s eyes that looked oddly like pain and Lady Sally found her heart beating a little faster. It was surely a very long time since she and Justin Kestrel had had the power to hurt each other and yet it seemed that she still had feelings for him. No, she knew that she did. Feelings too complicated to give a name, too late to act upon…

‘Tell me something, Sally.’ Justin spoke slowly.

There was a tension in the room. It caught at Lady Sally’s nerves, making her tremble. She wanted to tell Justin not to ask her anything too difficult, yet she was obliged to admit that she owed him any explanation that he cared to request.

‘Why did you choose Stephen Saltire over me?’ Justin asked.

There it was, the one thing that she had dreaded. She looked up from the amber swirl of brandy in her glass to meet his steady regard.

‘He asked nothing of me,’ she said, as lightly as she could. ‘I was young and not very brave, and you…’ she swallowed the lump in her throat ‘…you were too much of a risk, my dear. I sensed an intensity in you I was uncertain I could match. Whereas Stephen-’ she smiled with affectionate memory ‘-Stephen was easy, straightforward, accepting. He made life easy for me too.’

The silence lingered until Lady Sally broke it by fiddling restlessly with the seam of her gown.

‘So Richard and Deborah are wed within three months and I win my wager,’ she said brightly. ‘You had not forgot that we made a bet at Lord and Lady Newlyn’s wedding, Justin?’

‘No, indeed,’ Justin said. ‘What do you demand in payment?’

Lady Sally put her head on one side thoughtfully. ‘Oh, merely that you attend the ball to celebrate the launch of my watercolour calendar, I think,’ she said. ‘Having lost one of my greatest attractions in the person of your brother, I need the cachet a duke will bring to gain the attention of the ton!’

‘Nonsense,’ Justin said. He smiled. ‘I shall be there, nevertheless. That was a very easy stake to agree, my dear. You could have asked a deal more of me.’

‘I dare say,’ Lady Sally said. ‘I did not wish to tempt fate, however.’

Once again a ripple of tension seemed to spread through the room. Lady Sally found herself unable to meet the Duke’s eyes and this time it was Justin who changed the subject.

‘I seem to remember that your prediction was that Lucas would be next to fall in love,’ he remarked. ‘Do you stand by that, Sally?’

Lady Sally bent her sparkling smile on him. ‘Of course! I assure you that I am never wrong on matters of matrimony!’

‘Another wager, then?’ Justin suggested, with the shadow of a smile.

For once Lady Sally seemed reluctant. ‘I am not certain-’

‘Then you do not really have faith in your own prophecy?’

‘It is not that.’ Lady Sally flashed him a look. ‘Lucas is less predictable, for he has not yet met the lady of his heart. Nevertheless, I believe that when he does-and it will be soon-the matter will be arranged in the shortest time.’

Justin nodded sagely. ‘So why not take the wager?’

‘Because I may-just may-lose this one and…’ Lady Sally hesitated ‘…I am not certain what payment you would demand, Justin.’

Justin gave her a flicker of the wicked smile that had turned her heart inside out when she had been a débutante of eighteen.

‘Take the gamble,’ he said softly.

After a moment, Lady Sally held out her hand and his own closed about it to seal the deal. This time he did not kiss the back of her hand as he had done at the Newlyns’ wedding, but turned it over and kissed the palm.

‘Do you wish to win or lose?’ he asked her.

Lady Sally stood up. She felt very strongly that it was time he should be gone, or she could not foretell the outcome of the evening. She had no wish to do something that she might later regret, and talk of the past was notoriously dangerous.

‘I always win, Justin,’ she said sweetly. ‘Surely you know that, my dear.’

But when the Duke had left and Lady Sally was all alone in her big four-poster bed, she admitted to herself alone that this time a certain whim in her made the thought of losing almost more attractive than that of winning.

‘I rely on you, Lucas,’ she said as she blew out her candle. ‘Do not let me down, or I very much fear that your brother will catch me at last, and I have outrun him for these fifteen years. Well, we shall see…’

And she fell asleep, to dream of the past and the as yet unpredictable future.