Ten Kisses to Scandal (Misadventures in Matchmaking)

by Vivienne Lorret

  Chapter 31

  “She had talked her into love; but alas! She was not so easily to be talked out of it.”

  Jane Austen, Emma

  Briar walked into the village with one of the maids the following day. The duchess offered them the use of a carriage, but Briar felt that she’d taken advantage of her hospitality too much.

  Lost in thought, she kicked a stone on the path with the toe of her half boot, while beside her, the young maid chattered about the housekeeper needing silver polish, the cook needing eggs, Her Grace wanting blue thread to finish a pillow slip—not pale blue or dark blue but the one in between . . .

  Briar sighed, barely listening, uncertainty still plaguing her.

  Last night, Nicholas had sent a missive. And, of course, given her current state of mind, she took careful note of every word that had been written. And every word that had not.

  Miss Bourne,

  I regret I cannot return to Holliford Park this evening, due to a family matter that has arisen.

  Nicholas

  “Cannot return.” Deciphered to: I am capable of returning, after all I possess several horses and carriages, I’d just rather not see you again this evening. When we were together earlier, your moony-eyed gazes made me uncomfortable.

  “A family matter”: Since I have no plans of adding you to the family, now or in the future, I do not want your interference or your opinions.

  “Nicholas”: Here is my signature. I’m sending no fond wishes, affection, or warmest regards. Honestly, Briar, did you expect anything else?

  And yet, she had. She’d even hoped for another missive this morning. But none had come.

  Briar didn’t like the dark turn her scenarios had taken. They were usually a source of comfort, a moment of brightness in her day. Doubt, it seemed, had gotten the better of her.

  She hoped that, by the time her meeting with Miss Price concluded, she would feel more like herself. She was ready to put the unsuccessful challenge behind her, and to think about starting afresh for next Season. After all, whatever else was between her and Nicholas, he still wanted her to find a wife for Daniel.

  Once they reached the village, Briar told the maid that she’d meet her back at the Red Fawn. By the clock in the square, it was quarter of twelve, giving her time to see if the inn had any cups of chocolate.

  Coincidentally, Genevieve Price was already inside. Dressed in crimson from her feathered hat to her hem, she sat at a small round table nearest the door. Then she smiled, that peculiar thin-lipped grin, her green eyes glinting. “Miss Bourne, I see we’re both eager.”

  “Good day, Miss Price. I hope your journey here was pleasant,” Briar said, politeness ingrained in her. She did not particularly like this woman. Even so, she appreciated having met her, if only because this woman’s challenge had spurred her toward a new understanding of herself.

  Briar had become a different person since accepting their bargain. Not necessarily one who made better choices, but one who was worldly. And could one put a price on newfound experience? Well, in her case, it had cost ten kisses, her heart, soul, and chastity. A bargain really, she thought wryly.

  “It was, thank you,” she said with a quick gesture to the other chair. “I’ve taken the liberty of ordering tea just now. Perhaps before it arrives we might settle our business.”

  Right to it then. Briar sat down and adjusted her cream-colored skirts. “I’m afraid I was unable to find a bride for Lord Edgemont.”

  “Were you not? Such a pity.” She tsked, absently tugging on the wrist of her red glove, fingers stretching like claws. “Though to tell you the truth, I knew the task was close to impossible. Edgemont was forever proclaiming he would never marry. But he was a bit too smug about it, if you ask me. He didn’t know what it was like to be in the trenches of the marriage mart. So . . . I thought, why not put him there? And that, my dear, is where you came in.”

  Feeling her brow pucker, Briar looked across the table, wanting to understand. “You never expected me to succeed?”

  The tea arrived and so her answer was delayed for a moment. During which, Genevieve Price withdrew a silver flask from her reticule and poured a liberal amount of amber liquor in her teacup.

  “Not really. More than anything, I wanted him to be beleaguered by debutantes until he was ready to run mad through the streets of London. But from what I’ve heard, you’ve done excellent work keeping him in the midst of the warfare, so good on you,” she said, taking a sip, and without adding any tea to her cup.

  By rote, Briar poured her own, but was in no mood for tea. A faint memory seemed to twitch at the back of her mind. “I’d been under the impression that you’d chosen Lord Edgemont’s name at random, a rogue whom many knew by reputation.”

  “No, indeed. I was quite attached to the family at one time, before I was married and when I was just a debutante with a small dowry, doing whatever I could to marry well. As each of us must do.”

  Mismatched pieces began to merge together. “Your maiden name wouldn’t be . . . Smithson, would it?”

  Her smile curled slowly. “Yes.”

  “You were Mr. Prescott’s betrothed.” Briar was suddenly outraged on Daniel’s behalf, but what she couldn’t understand was . . . “First you abandon Mr. Prescott to marry someone else and then you challenge me to beleaguer Lord Edgemont. What do you have against that family?”

  “Are you certain you wish to know?” she asked, her green gaze watching Briar with the same excitement as a cat spotting a mouse, and she did not wait for a response. “It was Edgemont who stopped me from marrying Daniel. And the reason is because . . . well, I’m sure you can guess. After all, you were there, outside Sterling’s the morning after, when Edgemont was bidding me adieu. Of course, I did not know at the time that his attentions were so fickle. Some men are so easily distracted.”

  Briar recalled every part of that first meeting with perfect clarity. The woman in the crimson cloak. Nicholas’s hands roaming over her body as if acquainted with every inch. And now, she learned that the same woman had been Daniel’s betrothed?

  Briar went cold. He’d betrayed his own cousin for an illicit encounter?

  “You had an understanding with Nic—with Lord Edgemont?” she asked, her voice cracking with disbelief. Or rather, with wanting to disbelieve.

  Miss Smithson, Genevieve Price, or whoever she was, nodded.

  It was even worse than Briar thought. He wasn’t redeemable at all. Instead, he was the exact type of man who would seduce a woman with his charm, leading her to believe he was interested in more, only to abandon her in the end. Just like her father.

  “That’s part of who he is, you know. He pretends to have this big heart and love for his family, wanting to protect them. But the truth of the matter is, he only wants to satisfy his own insatiable appetite. He is a rake, after all. So take care, Miss Bourne, for I’ve heard tales that he’s been doting on you lately.”

  Sick to her stomach and sick at heart, Briar stood on trembling legs, unable to hear any more. This was already too much. “I’m afraid I . . . I must be going.”

  “Oh dear. I see that my warning has come too late,” her companion said with mock alarm.

  Briar turned and walked toward the door, but stumbled against a chair. She couldn’t see past the wetness in her eyes. But hands—familiar hands that she would know anywhere—clasped her shoulders, righting her. Nicholas’s scent filled her nostrils and his face blurred before her. “Let me go.”

  “I cannot,” he answered softly. “Not when you’re clearly—”

  “Why, Edgemont,” Genevieve Price said, her voice curling into a sneer, “serendipity smiles on us once more.”

  “Yes, I believe the two of you are quite well acquainted,” Briar said, holding back a sob.

  Nicholas’s hold tightened reflexively. “It isn’t what you think.”

  “Don’t underestimate my ability to see things clearly. I’m no longer as unworldly as I once was. Though it is unfortuna
te that it should have taken me so long to figure out the reason you were desperate to find Daniel a bride. Apparently, you needed to clear your own conscience,” she said, wishing there was more force behind her words. But they were all broken and wet. Even so, complete and utter loathing gave her the strength to shrug free. She swiped angrily at her tears, knowing that he didn’t deserve them. “I was a fool to imagine a life with a man like you. Please move out of my way.”

  “Briar.” His voice was low and raw, barely a rasp, clearly strained by guilt. “I have things I need to tell you, but not here. Come away with me and let me explain.”

  She shook her head, unwilling to hear anything he had to say. He could confess and make excuses to someone else, to someone more gullible than she, if such a person existed.

  When he did not move, Briar—who had never been rude or violent to anyone in her life—put both hands on his chest and shoved. He did not budge, but she felt as if she’d made her point.

  Then, skirting sideways between the chair and the wall, she rushed out the door.

  * * *

  Nicholas was numb with panic, his limbs leaden as he watched Briar’s retreating figure.

  Behind him, Genevieve clapped her hands. “My dear Edgemont, what a wonderful show. Why, this is even better than I imagined.”

  At Holliford Park a short while ago, his godmother had informed him that Briar had already gone into the village to meet someone on a matter of business, offhandedly remarking that a letter had come from Genevieve Price.

  At the mention of the name, Nicholas’s blood had turned to ice.

  It didn’t take him long to come to the conclusion that Genevieve had been the very person who’d challenged Briar in the first place. But none of that mattered. All he knew was that he had to get to the village, to explain everything before it was too late.

  Briar could find the good in anything, he told himself. Surely she would understand what was truly in his heart, and that he’d never intended to hurt anyone. She would take one look at him and see that he was, in fact, redeemable.

  Nicholas held on to this one last shred of hope as he’d ordered Adams to push the horses to their limit.

  Yet it had all been for naught.

  Years of mistakes and roguish behavior had caught up with him, looming like the dark shadow of Death, a razor-edged scythe catching the light. But Nicholas wasn’t about to give up.

  Shielding his eyes, he staggered onto the pavement, ignoring Genevieve’s laughter. He found Briar next to his black carriage, talking to Adams.

  “Miss Bourne, are you all right?”

  She shook her head, swiping at the wetness on her cheeks. “I am not, actually, and I need to leave immediately. Can you aid me?”

  Nicholas didn’t give Adams the chance to answer. He stormed up, imploring her to listen even as she held up a hand to ward him off. “Briar, let me explain. Then, I’m sure you’ll understand.”

  “I know very well what you’re going to tell me, but it will make no difference. I finally see you for the man you really are.” Those once-warm cornflower blue eyes turned frosty and distant.

  “No. I’m not like that anymore. Can’t you see that you’ve changed me?” He crowded closer, but only to watch her recoil from him. A wave of sheer desperation burned in his throat and veins, churning his stomach. He had to make her understand. “From the beginning—that very first day—you breathed life and effervescence into my soul, chasing away all the bitterness that once hardened me.”

  She closed her eyes, a breeze catching her shuddered breath. “If I could travel back to that day, I would choose never to meet you. I want nothing more to do with you, Lord Edgemont.”

  No, this wasn’t happening. He refused to believe it was over.

  “My lord, let me take Miss Bourne away from here,” Adams said, coming down from the perch and bringing Nicholas’s attention to the villagers that were gathering, gawking at the spectacle.

  But he didn’t care if they all saw him making a fool of himself. This was too damned important. He was losing everything that mattered. “Briar I . . . I need you.”

  Not swayed by the bald agony in his voice, she took Adams’s hand and stepped into the landau. In the velvet interior, she stared straight ahead, unblinking.

  Nicholas raked a hand through his hair, feeling everything slipping away, even his grip on sanity. “Yes, appropriate my carriage like you did that first day. Plague me with your warm smiles again. Badger my ears with the sound of your sweet laughter for the rest of my life.”

  The sounds of laughter from the crowd came instead, but he paid no heed.

  “Do you want to bring me to my knees? Then here I am,” he said, dropping like a felled tree, arms open, begging, pleading.

  But still, she did not look at him.

  “Damn it, Briar. Will you just . . . just marry me?”

  Chapter 32

  “. . . and it is over—and may never—can never, as a first meeting, occur again, and therefore you need not think about it.”

  Jane Austen, Emma

  London

  Three days later

  Briar returned home to the Bourne Matrimonial Agency, greeted by the pale marble foyer, as cold and lifeless as her dim-witted heart. How could she have been so wrong about him?

  Ainsley and Uncle Ernest were there, too, anxiously hovering over her, asking questions she just couldn’t answer. Because if she said, “Yes, Lord Edgemont asked me to marry him,” that would lead to, “No, I did not accept,” which would lead to the question why and the answer to that she couldn’t say aloud. The words were simply too horrendous to utter.

  Because he’d betrayed his own family in order to slake his lust. He was a rake who caused women to fall in love with him, only to abandon them.

  The worst of all crimes.

  She would rather have fallen for a murderer. And not just a duel-at-dawn murderer either, but an ax-wielding one who spent spare time chopping the heads off puppies. She shuddered at the dark scenario. No, better not make it puppies. That would be insupportable. Geese instead. She’d been attacked by a goose as a girl and wasn’t disturbed at all by the thought of them being slaughtered. At least not today.

  “Another shiver. She does that occasionally,” the duchess said, her voice threaded with worry, and speaking of Briar as if she weren’t standing there. “She’s barely said a word in the past three days, then mutters such terrible anguished cries in her sleep. Most of the words I cannot decipher, but I did hear her call out for her mother countless times. It breaks my heart.”

  “Do you know what happened?” Ainsley asked, wrapping a shawl around Briar’s shoulders and chafing her arms.

  “Other than the proposal I wrote you about, no. Ever since she came back from visiting the village, she’s been like this. Mind you, when my maid came in and told me the news, I was elated at first. So happy that my godson had decided to settle down once more.” She hesitated and sighed. “But when I saw Briar, I knew something dire was wrong. I was even more certain of it when my godson stormed into Holliford Park, wild-eyed and demanding the chance to explain. Though what he’d wanted to say, I do not know, for I shooed him out the door and told him he could not return until I knew what was what.”

  “And?” Uncle Ernest asked impatiently, pressing the back of his warm hand to Briar’s forehead and then to her cheek, his face lined with worry.

  “I still do not know. Though I will tell you that he followed us to every inn.”

  “Terrorizing my sister? I’ll scratch out his eyes if he steps—”

  “No, my dear. I’m sure you needn’t worry on that account. These past days, he has always kept his distance, but said he’d needed to be close at hand in case she wanted to talk to him or rail at him. Though, mostly, he stayed equally quiet, and looking more wretched than I have ever witnessed before. Whatever happened, he is clearly heartsick about it. I shouldn’t be surprised if his carriage is outside on the street right this instant.”

&nb
sp; Uncle Ernest stalked to the door, then slammed it closed. “If the earl has a black carriage with red wheels, it’s there.”

  “Briar?” Ainsley crooned, her brow rumpled with worry as she tucked the stray strands of hair away from Briar’s forehead. “If you want him gone, all you have to do is tell me, and I’ll . . . I don’t know . . . I’ll ask Mr. Sterling to get rid of him.”

  Another dark scenario took shape. Briar could see Reed Sterling, former boxing champion, ripping Nicholas out of his carriage and pummeling him with his fists. She felt sick, bile rising up her throat. Whatever else she thought of him, she didn’t want to see him hurt.

  “No.” The word tore out of her, nasally and broken. It must have unlocked something within her because a wrenching sob followed. She covered her face with her hands and collapsed in her sister’s arms.

  * * *

  Later that night, when Ainsley had finally left her bedchamber for a moment, Briar took the red leather volume of Emma and held it tightly. “Mother, I fell in love, and it’s just as awful as I feared it would be. Now I know why you didn’t survive it.”

  Chapter 33

  “Respect would be added to affection.”

  Jane Austen, Emma

  Adams drove Nicholas home late that night, claiming he couldn’t stand the stench rising from the carriage. The blackguard even helped him inside his townhouse and up to his chamber.

  “I’m going to fire you if you don’t take me back this instant,” Nicholas slurred, drunk from lack of sleep, and possibly from too much whisky. Adams’s fault. He’d given Nicholas his flask, likely wanting him to drink himself into a stupor just so he would pass out.

  “Fire me tomorrow, my lord. You’re too tired today.”

  Nicholas tipped forward and landed in a heap on his bed.

  And that was the last thing he remembered until there was daylight streaming in through his windows.

  The bitter scent of coffee wafted over from the bedside table, making his stomach roil.