Ten Kisses to Scandal (Misadventures in Matchmaking)

by Vivienne Lorret

  Briar shivered, the images forming in her mind. Hearing Daniel’s account, she couldn’t help but compare this with what Nicholas had gone through with Marceline. How both his wife and brother had deceived him.

  Then Briar thought of how Genevieve Price had left London and had ended up in Daniel’s path. Of all the men she might have encountered, it was uncanny that she should have formed an attachment to Nicholas’s cousin. And perhaps a bit too convenient.

  I was just a debutante with a small dowry, doing whatever I could to marry well.

  And yet, Daniel’s annuity was more on the conservative side, which made Briar doubt that he had been her true target for marriage.

  “Sounds to me that lad had good reason to break the betrothal,” Mrs. Teasdale interjected.

  “Mrs. Teasdale, please,” Briar chided, even when the same thought had run through her mind. “It was still Mr. Prescott’s decision to make. Not only that, but he wasn’t given the opportunity to truly confront the situation.”

  Briar knew what it was like to be underestimated and made to feel as if you’re incapable of making your own choices. And yet, after her talk with Ainsley, she’d come to realize that there are often reasons for family to think they are acting with your best interests in mind.

  Then it occurred to Briar that she’d done something similar to Daniel. Oh dear.

  “I’m afraid I have a confession as well,” she said, abashed. “I’ve been secretly trying to find you a match these past weeks.”

  He grinned shyly. “I’ve known all along. My mother is not the best at keeping secrets.”

  “I hope you know that I meant no disrespect.”

  “Easily forgiven.”

  Mrs. Teasdale gave an irritated sigh, lowering her knitting to her lap. “That’s all well and good, but what about your cousin?”

  But before Daniel could respond, they were interrupted.

  “Forgive me, I don’t mean to intrude,” a gentleman said, appearing in the parlor doorway, looking down at a card in his hand.

  The instant she saw him, Briar felt her jaw go slack and heard Mrs. Teasdale make an inarticulate sound of appreciation, her knitting needles dropping to the rug in a brief pit-a-pat. The stranger was a tall handsome man with wavy hair the color of caramels and strong, elegant features.

  Lifting a pair of remarkable gray eyes, he scanned the room. “Oh, Mr. Prescott, perhaps you might be of assistance.”

  “What are you doing here? Interested in matchmaking all of a sudden?” Daniel asked with the wry amusement that one usually reserved for close acquaintances.

  “Well, not exactly,” he said then, looking to Briar and Mrs. Teasdale, who were both likely fish-faced. “I seem to have come to the wrong address. Edgemont sent me this card and, well, perhaps you can make out your cousin’s abominable handwriting.”

  Daniel stood and took the card, but paused to make the introductions. “Brandon Stredwick, Lord Hulworth, might I present Miss Bourne and her friend Mrs. Teasdale.”

  Hulworth? Briar stood as another tumble of shock fell through her. Nicholas had sent Lord Hulworth here? First the chocolate and now this . . . but what could be his reason?

  . . . Nicholas has been moping around and muttering strange things about starting from the beginning, from the day you met . . .

  Briar’s heart quickened.

  “Miss Bourne, a pleasure.” He bowed, then turned and bent to pick up the fallen knitting needles and offered them. “Mrs. Teasdale.”

  She gave him a saucy wink. “How do you feel about the number five, Lord Hulworth?”

  “I suppose I like it as much as any other number.” His broad mouth quirked in a wary sort of grin and then he returned his attention to Daniel. “Again, I apologize for the intrusion, but I don’t believe I’ve got the correct address and I can’t make out what the card says at the bottom.”

  Daniel chuckled and lifted a plate from the low table. “You’re in the right place. The message at the bottom says to ‘try the scones.’”

  “How odd. That’s precisely what I thought it said.” With a shrug, he took the offered pastry, then a bite, and in the next moment he looked at it with wonder.

  The magic of Mrs. Darden’s scones.

  “Brandon?” a lilting voice called from the corridor. “Brother, where have you gone?”

  At once Daniel stood straighter, turning to face the door, his cheeks abruptly ruddy.

  Then the voice’s owner appeared. She was a lovely young woman with porcelain skin, glossy black hair, and eyes a pale, clear blue that lit with recognition on Daniel. And then came a stunning smile. “Mr. Prescott, surely that is not you, for you have grown ancient since we last met.”

  “Meg.” Her name came out on a strangled breath and then Daniel stumbled over a correction. “Miss Stredwick, you haven’t altered one bit.”

  She set her hands on her hips, arching a winged brow in indignation. “A fine thing to say. When we last met, I was still in braids.”

  “And climbing a tree, if I recall.”

  “Well, you climbed it first. I wanted to show you that girls are just as good at climb—”

  “Meg, you are in a room of strangers to whom you should be introduced,” Lord Hulworth said with fond exasperation as he made the introductions, then added, “I see that I have clearly wasted a fortune on finishing school.”

  By the dazed look in Daniel’s eyes, it was clear he did not agree. And if Briar wasn’t mistaken, she might have just witnessed a rather substantial spark.

  * * *

  Briar spent the morning in the parlor with her new acquaintances. By the time Lord Hulworth had sampled his third scone, London’s most elusive bachelor seemed to warm to the idea of filling out an application.

  And it was all because of Nicholas.

  Late in the afternoon she went out to the small garden—once the scene of her infamous blunder—and sat beneath an arbor, heavy with overblown roses, the sound of bees thick in the warm, breezeless air.

  But her thoughts and feelings were too scattered to enjoy the scenery.

  The ones lingering in her mind were indignant, railing against a man who would go behind his cousin’s back instead of allowing him to decide his own future, and warning her that he was a rake. The wrong sort. Yet the others—the ones in her heart—clutched their bosoms and sighed about a man who would make chocolate all day, clean all night, and even send his friend to her doorstep in the hopes that she might make a match for him. Just as she’d proclaimed that first day they’d met.

  He was going back to the beginning. How could she not love that?

  Yet, before she could form a complete, thoughtful answer, Temperance arrived.

  She flew down the garden path and smothered Briar in an embrace. “Had I known that Mr. Cartwright was living in the same house where you . . .” Her voice broke and she sniffled. Drawing back, she revealed eyes that were wet and filled with tea-colored remorse. “I’m so very sorry. If I’d told you where we were going, you never would have endured that pain.”

  “There is no need to apologize. How could you have known, when not even I knew until that very moment?” Briar soothed her friend’s worries.

  “And yet, if I’d have been forthcoming with my growing fondness for your half brother, you still might have been spared.”

  Briar looked down at her hands, having given the matter much thought in the past few days. “Your growing fondness had nothing to do with it. I very much wanted to get better acquainted with Mr. Cartwright. I still do, in fact. But when I saw the house, a pain that I unknowingly buried suddenly came forth in a rather unexpected and dramatic fashion. I feel like a ninny, thinking back on it. But it was your cousin”—Briar’s heart quickened again, her heart lodging in her throat—“who helped me by letting me pour out every bit of it until it was all said.”

  She swallowed and drew in a steadying breath, the rest of the memory warming her.

  Last night, she’d spoken with Ainsley about their half sib
lings, expressing a desire to invite them here for tea one afternoon. Her sister—while still holding on to her own reservations—had agreed to send an invitation when Mr. Cartwright was next in town.

  “Besides,” Briar continued, smiling at her friend, “part of me is glad you did not tell me. For I was able to see your happiness untainted by my own confused feelings on the matter. And if I had confessed that to you, then you might never have begun exchanging letters with him, and the spark I saw between you would have faded out of existence.”

  “I did feel something the instant I saw him. It was as if I had known him for all the years of my life and he was only now returning into my company. Does that sound strange to you?”

  “To me? Do you forget who you’re talking to?” Briar laughed quietly, but felt a wistful sigh pinch her heart. A day ago, her answer would have been much different, dire even. Yet, today, she felt more like herself—but a newer, wiser version. “If I have learned one thing, it is that nothing is guaranteed. You must seize happiness when it is upon you, and hold fast.”

  A sob escaped Temperance, her eyes brimming again, her mouth spread in a broad smile. “I was hoping you would say something like that. Oh, I just knew you would understand. But what about your own happiness?”

  Briar shook her head, her thoughts still preoccupied with everything she’d learned. She hadn’t come to a firm conclusion on what she would say to Nicholas.

  “Do you think you can ever forgive my cousin?”

  “It is not my place to forgive him. It is your brother’s.”

  “But for Nicholas to betray Daniel in such a way . . .” Temperance expelled a long drawn-out sigh.

  “Surely you can forgive your cousin,” Briar prodded. “You’ve said yourself that he has always been selfless with his affection and caring toward you. I’ve never seen a man who loves and dotes on his family more.”

  It was true and she’d seen it firsthand. He was loyal to them as well, if not a bit misguided. He certainly would never turn his back on them.

  “Oh, I hated her from the very first day,” Temperance admitted, suddenly smiling. “So did mother. It was almost a relief when she was gone. If not for Daniel’s melancholy, I would have dusted the entire episode from my hands.”

  “Then why were you being so hard on your cousin just now?”

  “I was only attempting to show you support. After all, you’re the one who’s making him grovel.”

  Briar scoffed. “Grovel.”

  “I cannot fathom what else you’d call it.” Temperance eyed her knowingly. “I mean, he followed your carriage all the way from Hampshire, waited in front of the agency for nearly a day, came here to make you chocolate because he knows it’s your favorite. He made it himself, Briar, when he could have hired a servant to buy it and bring it here, instead.”

  “See here, how do you know all this?”

  “Adams told me on the way,” she said with a half shrug. “But I already knew something was between you from the beginning. After all, you’re not the only one who can spot a spark.”

  “I thought I’d hid my feelings rather well.” At least until he’d come to Holliford Park, then she was all over him like ants on a secret stash of comfits.

  Temperance shook her head as if she were talking to a dimwit. “Not you, silly. Nicholas. I’ve seen the change in him all along. Whenever you were near, his eyes turned all soft and dark.”

  Briar swallowed, trying not to think about how much she loved it when he looked at her that way. “They’re always dark.”

  “I also knew because he asked you to marry him,” Temperance said quietly. “He’s never done that before. Not even the first time.”

  “That wasn’t a proposal. That was a moment of panic,” Briar said, indignant.

  “Because he was afraid of losing you. He couldn’t imagine his life without you.”

  “Now you’re just putting words in his mouth. He always went out of his way to tell me that he would never marry. I was the one who filled my head with romantic scenarios, not him.”

  Aside from that brief slip of the tongue in the kitchen, he’d never once told her he loved her. And yet, the thoughts in her brain that had been shaking fisted hands a moment ago weren’t so indignant any longer. In fact, they had defected to her heart.

  “Then why didn’t you give him an answer?”

  “I did.”

  Temperance shook her head, adamant. “Adams told me, and he was there for the whole thing.”

  “Well, ‘no’ was implied, then.” There hadn’t been any point in answering when she knew he wasn’t sincere.

  “Hmm . . . I don’t think he understood. Perhaps that’s all the two of you need, just to settle things once and for all. Simply meet with him and give him your answer.”

  “Are you going to badger me about this?” Briar crossed her arms.

  Temperance grinned. “Until the end of your days.”

  Chapter 35

  “It is such a happiness when good people get together—and they always do.”

  Jane Austen, Emma

  Today was the day.

  Briar’s fingers fumbled with the clasp of her cloak as she gave the red leather book a cursory glance. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I know he wasn’t serious and he isn’t even likely to renew his addresses. And if he does so out of some perceived obligation, all I have to do is say no, and then leave. We’ll part amicably, the way that Uncle Ernest does with his . . . friends.”

  Mother did not agree this time. She knew it would be difficult.

  “Yes. I know that, too.” Briar rubbed the place over her heart where it pinched uncomfortably. “I cannot imagine why his missive said for us to meet at dawn, unless he means to have it all over and done before anyone is aware.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the dark scenarios that filled her head. “He’s sending Adams with the carriage, but I didn’t dare tell Ainsley or Uncle Ernest. So, I’m simply sneaking out, like before. And when I return, no one will be the wiser.”

  That was for the best. After this morning, she’d be able to forge ahead with the rest of her life. And in time—a long, long time in the future—she’d be able to look back on this and sigh with fond remembrance.

  At the door, she looked over her shoulder. “Wish me luck.”

  Briar was certain she would need it.

  She crept quietly downstairs and slipped outside, careful to leave the door on the latch. A filmy layer of fog greeted her in the gray light, but nothing to keep her from seeing Adams perched atop the carriage.

  He tipped his hat to her. “Morning, Miss Bourne.”

  “And to you, Mr. Adams,” she said, but was surprised that he didn’t come down to help her inside. However, in the next instant, she learned the reason.

  Nicholas came out of the carriage, his tall frame unfolding before her, and her heart lurched. His expression gave nothing away, his dark eyes searching. “I thought we could have our conversation in the carriage, if that is agreeable to you.”

  She wobbled a nod, and reached out to put her hand in his. She was relieved she was wearing gloves because she didn’t think she would be able to take having one last touch of skin on skin.

  Inside, she settled her skirts and carefully avoided looking at the man across from her. But it was rather difficult when he picked up a parcel from beside him and held it in his lap. It was covered in brown paper and tied with silk ribbons in an array of vibrant colors—red, blue, green, and violet.

  Suddenly, she recalled the jest she’d made to him about returning her heart in a box wrapped in silk ribbons and filled with rose petals.

  The organ beneath her breast twisted feebly.

  “Perhaps this wasn’t a good idea, after all. Whatever we have to say could surely be said in a letter.” Yet, just as she started to reach for the door, the carriage jolted into motion.

  “I’m afraid you’re wrong. What I have to say cannot be said in a letter.”

  That’
s right, she forgot he had abominable handwriting. So she supposed it was better this way.

  “Very well, then. I’m listening.” She sat up straighter, keeping her eyes on the box as if it were a coiled serpent ready to strike at any moment.

  He thrummed his fingers hollowly against the sides, taunting her. “You seem rather curious about what I’m holding.”

  “Not at all.”

  He chuckled warmly. “Coward.”

  Her gaze flashed up to his, meeting the velvety cocoa of his irises. “You have always been one to speak your thoughts and wishes plainly. So I imagined that, should you like me to know what is inside, you would tell me.”

  “Valid point.” He thrummed his fingers again. “Inside are some of my most prized possessions. Would you like to see them?”

  “Only if you want to—”

  He put the box on her lap. “Open it, Briar. We haven’t much time. Adams isn’t going to drive around all morning.”

  Apparently, Nicholas was just as eager to get this over with.

  She swallowed down a sudden bubble of sadness, tasting the flavor of what might have been. Hands still trembling like before, she pulled on the ribbons, untying each of them before unfolding the paper. Then, lifting the lid of the box, she found it full of rose petals and that bubble of sadness rose up her throat once more, threatening to come forth on a sob.

  But on closer inspection, she noticed there was something intermingled with the fragrant dark red, and she delved her hand in to see what it was. Her gloves. The ones with the ink stain.

  Perplexed, she looked up at him, only to have him nod toward the box. “There’s more. Keep digging.”

  And she did. She pulled out a blue ribbon, which she’d apparently left behind after her night at Almack’s. Several hairpins, the reminder of losing them inside this carriage causing her to blush. The tip of an arrow, from when her shot had gone astray. And one embroidered stocking. “You kept this for me, all this time?”

  He shook his head, a smirk curled into the corner of his mouth. “Not for you. As I said, those are my prized possessions.”

  “Nicholas, you know very well that they are mine.”