A Lady’s First Scandal

by Farmer, Merry

  “As much as he loves her,” Lord Herrington added, moving back to Lady Tavistock’s side and kissing her cheek.

  Cece’s smile faltered. It was ridiculous for her to think that Rupert would have eyes only for her upon his return, but she hadn’t expected him to fall instantly into joking with his friends. Not when they’d been apart for so long. Not when she’d agonized day and night while waiting for his return.

  Her heart pinched with indignation when Rupert clapped his hands together and asked Lady Katya, “Shall we all head home now? I’m famished, and I just know that Mrs. Phillpotts has something delicious waiting for me.”

  “Mrs. Phillpotts retired two years ago,” Lady Katya said. “But Mrs. Morris has been cooking for days.” She gestured to a pair of carriages waiting at the far end of the street then took Lord Malcolm’s arm to start toward them.

  “I hope there’s room for Fergus and Freddy,” Rupert started after her.

  Cece’s stomach tightened. He hadn’t offered her his arm.

  “I’m off to Tavistock House with my sister,” Lord Herrington announced. “But I’ll drop by for a visit in the morning.”

  He and Lady Tavistock nodded their goodbyes. Lady Tavistock sent a particularly sympathetic look to Cece.

  The rest of them, including Lord O’Shea, marched on toward their waiting carriages. As if as an afterthought, Rupert finally held back and offered Cece his arm. But instead of whispering sweet words to her as she’d dreamed he would once he was home, he called ahead to Lady Katya, saying, “Are we all at Campbell House or Marlowe House at the moment?”

  “Marlowe House,” Natalia answered for him, rushing to take Rupert’s other arm. “It’s bigger.”

  Cece was seized by the sudden, irrational urge to throttle Natalia for laying claim to Rupert. Guilt eclipsed her anger, though. Natalia had missed her brother as much as she had. Still, the whole thing hadn’t been the homecoming she’d dreamed of.

  “Then there’s room for Fergus,” Rupert said as they walked. “O’Shea needs a place to stay.”

  “There’s plenty of room,” Lady Katya called back.

  “Just as long as you don’t forget where your loyalties lie,” Lord Malcolm added. He narrowed his eyes at Rupert, then turned a protective look on Cece.

  Cece wasn’t sure whether she was touched and grateful that her father was apparently as aware of Rupert’s less than enthusiastic greeting toward her or embarrassed that he was singling Rupert out for it in public. Either way, she wasn’t certain Rupert even noticed.

  “The advantage of having a complicated family situation is that it gives one a variety of homes to choose from,” he told Lord O’Shea as they reached the carriages. He handed Cece into one while continuing to talk to his friend. “They’re only two blocks away, though, so it’s jolly convenient.”

  “Are you getting in?” Bianca asked once she, Natalia, and Cece were seated.

  Rupert peeked into the carriage, then said, “No, there’s not enough room. Fergus and I will find our own way home. We’ll see you there.”

  Without ceremony, he shut the carriage door.

  Cece wilted with disappointment. It was as though she’d waited for the delivery of a treasure for years, only to find that it was fool’s gold.

  Chapter 2

  It was bliss to be home. After the roughness of four years of army life, Rupert reveled in every pleasant scent that filled his family’s London townhome, every soft cushion that caressed his backside as he lounged for the first time in what felt like forever, every crumb of shortbread his mother’s new cook had prepared for him, every drop of sweetened tea, every ribald laugh and snort from his impish sisters, every ray of sunlight peeking through the curtains—in short, everything.

  “This tops military rations any day,” he said to Fergus as he bit into the last of the lemon tarts. The burst of citrus pinched his face with deliciousness, a luxury he’d forgotten how much he loved.

  “It certainly does,” Fergus answered with a sigh of contentment as he rested back in his seat. “I don’t think I could eat another bite.”

  “Oh, but supper is only an hour away,” Natalia said. She sat on the sofa beside him, perched on the edge, glancing between him and Fergus with bright eyes. “Tell us again about the battle where you were shot.”

  “Natalia,” their mother scolded. “He’s already told the story once and he wrote to you about it years ago. I’m sure he doesn’t want to relive it now.”

  “On the contrary,” Rupert said. He finished the lemon tart, swallowed with a groan of satisfaction, then leaned forward as though on the stage. “It was shortly after I arrived in the Transvaal. The Boers had been mercilessly ambushing British supplies for weeks. Mail convoys were particularly vulnerable. So General Colley decided to escort a particularly sensitive mail convoy personally, so as to keep our supply lines open. I was one of the men chosen to accompany him.”

  “And you nearly died,” Natalia gasped, clutching his arm.

  “I nearly did,” Rupert answered gravely. The events of that day felt like they were a lifetime ago, like they’d happened to someone else, and yet, the horror of the whole thing remained with him. “We were ambushed, like so many other convoys. The Boers, damn them, were excellent marksmen. Half our complement was killed. I was shot in the leg myself. I was only spared death because Fergus here threw me out of the way of another shot and dragged me to safety. He took a bullet in his arm for his efforts.”

  “And I’d do it again if called to,” Fergus said, saluting Rupert with his teacup.

  “We limped back to safety, and I spent the better part of the rest of the conflict convalescing,” Rupert went on. “But our position in South Africa has always been under threat, from the Boers and the natives.”

  He glanced to Cece to see what she thought of his dashing tales of adventure and daring. He expected to find her on the edge of her seat, like Natalia, stars in her eyes. But instead, her posture was slightly slumped, and instead of watching him like a lover should, she stared morosely at her still-full teacup. Her mouth was pulled tight and there was a certain hardness to her jaw.

  He couldn’t imagine what was wrong with her. Was she ill? He did the only thing he could think of to bolster her.

  “I was lucky to recover from those wounds as quickly as I did,” he said, watching her as he spoke. “I was doubly lucky to meet Freddy, that is, Lord Herrington, in the field hospital. You’re friends with his sister, Cecelia, are you not?”

  Cece glanced up somewhat belatedly. She blinked, her mouth remaining tight, then said, “I admire Lady Tavistock and the political work she does immensely, but no, I do not think she counts me as one of her friends.”

  “But you were standing side-by-side this afternoon,” Rupert argued.

  Lines formed between Cece’s eyebrows and her jaw tensed further. “Physical proximity does not define the closeness of a relationship. You of all people should know that.” She punctuated her remark by sipping her tea. Her lips twitched into a grimace, and a moment later she set her teacup aside, then muttered, “Although perhaps it does.”

  Rupert frowned, at a complete loss. Clearly, she meant something by her words, but he couldn’t see what it was for the life of him.

  Once again, he fell back on what he knew. “Africa was a baptism by fire, certainly. We were all lucky that the conflict was short-lived. The bulk of our duties after the peace was signed were mostly guarding British interests and subduing the local population.” He paused, studying Cece’s expression to see if his words were allaying the fears he assumed she had, then said, “So really, there was no need for you to worry.”

  Instead of relaxing in relief, Cece’s posture stiffened, and if he didn’t know better, the look she shot him was one of indignation. But she kept her mouth firmly shut.

  “There was that one time we caught that German chap trying to make off with supplies,” Fergus said with a smirk.

  “And he wasn’t even a Boer,” Rupert laughed, g
ladder than he could express that his friend had saved him from the unfathomable censure of the one person who should have been most overjoyed by his return. “None of us expected the bloke to have that revolver with him,” he went on, launching into the story of the German scavenger who had tried to use them all for shooting practice just so he could make off with a sack of bread and cheese.

  Unfortunately for him, Cece’s inexplicable attitude didn’t improve, even when he and Fergus switched into stories of the mischief they’d all gotten into during their free time. He was particularly careful to emphasize that he hadn’t engaged in any inappropriate behavior where women were concerned, even though the majority of his fellow officers had indulged whenever a bit of skirt presented itself, English, Boer, or native. He’d remained loyal and true to Cece through it all, writing to her whenever temptation reared its ugly head and dreaming only of her.

  Which was why her coldness now was a complete mystery to him.

  It was a relief when Mr. Stewart announced that supper was ready. Rupert leapt to his feet, anxious to get away from the awkwardness that had descended over the room.

  But when he began to approach Cece to escort her into the dining room, she stepped out of his way, marching toward her father—who had wandered into the parlor along with Mr. Stewart—and taking his arm without so much as a second glance for Rupert. Dread pooled in his stomach.

  It didn’t lessen at all when his mother swept up to his side and took his arm without him offering. Especially when she led him into the hall in the opposite direction from the dining room.

  Rupert decided to nip the whole problem in the bud by asking his mother, “What the devil is going on with Cece? Is she ill?”

  His stomach sank further when his mother raised one of her severe eyebrows at him. “My dear boy,” she began in her most foreboding tone, “I did not raise you to be an ass, so kindly stop being one.”

  Rupert gaped, an indignant sound bursting from him. “I’m not being an ass, Mother. Cece has turned into a cold fish. One would think that after four years apart she’d be clinging to my side and sighing with joy.”

  His mother’s disapproving eyebrow arched higher. Then she shook her head. Rupert knew he was deep in the soup. “That dear girl has waited four years for you,” she said in a tone that made it clear whose side she was on. “She remained loyal to you. She declined invitations that she should have accepted because a letter arrived from you. She refused to dance when asked for years because she didn’t want so much as a whisper of a rumor to reach your ears. She studied military dispatches and any news of South Africa religiously so that she would be aware of what you were facing.”

  Rupert’s heart swelled at the revelations. It also pinched with helpless confusion. “That’s all wonderful,” he said. “So why is she so clearly displeased with me?”

  “Because you’re ignoring her, you dolt.” His mother smacked his arm hard enough for Rupert to wince. “Because you’re spewing on about war stories and telling her she wasted her time worrying.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “Because you’re giving more of your attention to Lord Fergus O’Shea than you are to her,” his mother went on.

  “Fergus is my guest,” Rupert argued. “I have a duty to make him feel at home, especially after what he’s been through.” He leaned closer to his mother and said, “His own family barely speaks to him. His father sent him a curt letter when his mother died and nothing else. And the man saved my life. Besides, the bond of brothers in arms is almost stronger than that of brothers by blood. I’m not sure if you’d understand.”

  “Is he more important than the woman you profess to love?” his mother asked.

  Rupert opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He dropped his shoulders and shook his head. “I didn’t want to say this because you’re my mother, but I was hoping that my true reunion with Cece could happen in private, where we won’t be disturbed or questioned.” He fixed her with a significant look that he never would have dared use except under extreme circumstances.

  To his surprise, his mother laughed. “If you think you’ll be spreading honey on your toast any time soon, then you know even less about women than I thought you did.”

  She tugged him on, proceeding to the dining room at last.

  “Believe me, Mother. I know about women,” he said. “Your friends saw to that years ago.”

  His mother only laughed harder.

  Dinner ended up being a far more frustrating affair than Rupert ever would have imagined for his first, grand meal at home. The conversation that danced around the table was lively and interesting, but led mostly by his sisters—who had grown far too bold for comfort in his absence. Lord Malcolm chatted mostly with Fergus about the situation in Ireland, although Fergus wasn’t as up to date as Malcolm was, having been away from his homeland for so long. Rupert tried his best to engage Cece in conversation, but she had taken up a place at her father’s right hand, which was across the table and two places down from him.

  He wasn’t truly able to get a word in edgewise with her until after supper, after the ladies had retired to their sitting room and the gentlemen for cigars and brandy, and when most of them were on the verge of giving up and going to bed for the night. It was only then that he was able to catch Cece’s hand as she attempted to exit the parlor and to lead her down the hall to his mother’s library. He considered it a good sign that she came with him willingly and that he didn’t have to scoop her over his shoulder and carry her down the hall.

  “Cece,” he said, filling the single word with every emotion that had been locked inside of him for the past four years. “Thank God we’re alone at last.”

  He drew Cece into his arms and slanted his head to kiss her. She let out a sigh and sagged against him, parting her lips and letting him drink her in. It was so good to kiss her again, the way he’d dreamed of for so long, that he closed his eyes and threw his whole heart into it. She tasted as sweet as nectar, and her body felt like heaven against his. She’d filled out in the most delectable way in four years’ time, and it took a monumental effort of will not to caress her curves.

  “I’ve wanted to kiss you like that for so long,” he breathed at last, resting his forehead against hers. “How I’ve missed you.”

  “And I missed you,” she said in a small voice, glancing longingly into his eyes. “So very much. You cannot imagine.”

  “I can,” he said. “I can imagine the way you’ve held yourself back from social engagements, the way you must have sat by the window, pining and waiting for a letter from me, the way you must have dreamed of the blessed day when you will become my wife.”

  To his vast surprised, she jerked out of his arms, staring fire at him. “Is that what you imagined?” she asked, her voice sharp with pique.

  Rupert blinked. He could practically hear the zip of sniper bullets. His stomach certainly dropped the way it had in the ambush. “Isn’t that what it was like for you?” he asked uncertainly. It was what his own mother had told him, after all.

  Cece planted her hands on her hips. “Do you think that I simply sat by, waiting for your return so that I could do nothing more than be your countess and bear your heirs?”

  He blinked again, feeling heat rise up his neck even as his heart pounded against his ribs in fear. Yes, fear. He’d never seen Cece so upset before, and at a time when she should be over the moon. “Yes?” he answered hesitantly. “Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Isn’t that what we used to talk about before I enlisted?”

  “Before you enlisted,” she huffed in a tone that was almost mocking. “An action, might I remind you, that you took without my consent, without consulting me.”

  “I had to serve my country,” he explained. “It was my duty.”

  “And what about your duty to the woman you love?”

  Her question caught him completely off-guard. His mouth flapped as he scrambled to think of an answer. “Perhaps you don’t understand,” he said. “As Ear
l of Stanhope, it is my duty to uphold the laws and interests of the empire. How can I be expected to do that if I haven’t served? We both know that I am unusually young for so much responsibility.”

  “And that excuses you from showing the woman you profess to want to marry an adequate amount of respect?” Her voice reached a high squeak that made him wince. “I’ve missed you, Rupert,” she went on with passion, taking a step closer to him. “I’ve dreamed of this day, of our reunion, for four long years. And you repay me by giving your friend, a man who has been right there with you every day for almost your entire absence, more attention than you give to me?”

  At last, Rupert thought he understood the nature of the problem. His mother had been right about the cause of Cece’s upset. He smiled, relaxing his stance and resting his hand on Cece’s cheek. “I understand, sweetheart. It’s only natural for a woman to want to spend time with the man she loves. But Fergus is my guest. He’s like a brother to me, the brother I never had. I have a responsibility toward him. Certainly, you must see that. Once you’ve had a good night’s sleep, you’ll see that I’m doing the right thing by making him feel at home. After all, the two of us will have our whole lives together.”

  He leaned in to kiss her, but she pulled back so fast he lost his balance.

  “I thought you were a decent man,” she said, her chest heaving with emotion. “I thought you were sensitive and romantic, but you’re just as much of a cad as the blackguards in Parliament who kicked and screamed and fought against the act my father fought so hard to pass ensuring the rights of married women.”

  “I supported that act with my whole heart,” Rupert insisted, anger rising over his confusion. “I would have voted for it if I’d been in the country at the time.”

  “Precisely,” Cece snapped. “If you were so keen to serve your country, you should have stayed at home and taken up your seat in the House of Lords rather than abandoning everyone who cares about you and everything that needed your attention to nearly get yourself killed playing soldier.”