Improper

by Darcy Burke

  A few minutes later, the door opened. Fiona turned from the window as Cassandra rushed inside. They met in the center of the room and hugged.

  “I was so worried about what happened to you.” Cassandra gave her a fierce squeeze before they parted.

  “As I was about you.” Fiona darted a glanced at Mrs. Renshaw, who stood near the open doorway. “Were you found?”

  “Not until Mrs. Renshaw came.” She sent her a grateful smile. “I was huddled in the servants’ cupboard trying to decide what to do.”

  “And now you must both be on your way, quickly, before those who are downstairs take their leave.”

  Cassandra started toward the door, and Fiona followed. Mrs. Renshaw led them down two flights of stairs to the lower level, and they retraced their steps to the door they’d entered earlier. Then Mrs. Renshaw accompanied them up the stairs to Duke Street, where a hack was already waiting.

  She turned to Fiona and Cassandra. “I’ve instructed the driver to deposit you each near, not in front of, your perspective homes. He has already been paid, so you needn’t worry about that.”

  “How can we ever thank you?” Fiona asked, still overwhelmed with regret as well as disappointment in herself.

  “By not doing anything like this again.” She smiled at them. “I understand what it’s like to do something foolish. You feel bad about it now—and you should—but you’ll learn from this and emerge wiser. To do anything else would be the true failure.”

  Fiona took her words to heart, silently vowing to learn from this mistake. “From now on, I will consider my actions from everyone’s perspective.”

  Mrs. Renshaw fixed her gaze on Cassandra. “I will not be telling Lord Lucien you were here.”

  “I could hug you,” Cassandra said, blinking. “Thank you.”

  “Go now.” She waved them toward the hack and stood on the pavement until they’d climbed inside and the vehicle rolled away.

  Sitting beside Cassandra, Fiona leaned her head back against the seat. “That was such a bad idea.”

  “It was not my finest,” Cassandra said wryly. “I’m so sorry. What happened to you?”

  “Nothing happened to me, but I think I ruined Lord Overton.”

  Angling herself toward Fiona, Cassandra gaped at her. “What?”

  “When we heard those voices, I panicked. I ran to the right—where the voices were coming from.”

  “I did wonder why you went that way. I dashed over to the door across from the stairs. It was a servants’ cupboard.”

  “You were smart.” Fiona exhaled lest she rush the retelling of what had happened. “I was not. I ran directly into Overton. He recognized me immediately and pulled me away before anyone could see me.”

  Cassandra’s eyes lit with delight. “Brilliant! Then he brought you to Mrs. Renshaw’s office?”

  “Not directly,” Fiona said slowly as the events ran through her mind for the dozenth time. “He took me out to the terrace, then down to the garden. I’m not sure he was thinking of where we would go, just that we shouldn’t be where everyone else was.” How she hated that she’d put him in that position.

  Her face falling, Cassandra pressed her lips together. “Right. You said you ruined him.” She winced. “How could you possibly do that?”

  “Er, it’s complicated. When we were in the garden, there were people in the ballroom. They opened the doors, and someone recognized him. We ran to the other side of the garden—to the ladies’ side—and I thought we were safe.”

  “But you weren’t?” Cassandra tensed, her shoulders bunching.

  “I felt terrible about the entire situation. He was angry, I apologized, and the next thing I knew, I was kissing him.” She covered her eyes, afraid to see Cassandra’s reaction. That didn’t stop her from hearing it, however.

  Cassandra’s gasp filled the hack. “He kissed you?”

  Fiona wiped her hand down her face and rested it in her lap. “No, I kissed him. Then he kissed me. It all happened so fast.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  That was not a question Fiona expected. She jolted, her mind going right back to that moment and the pleasure of his embrace. “Yes.” The word was a bare whisper, an almost silent affirmation of what she dared not admit and yet couldn’t seem to withhold.

  Fiona rushed to say something else, to distract from what she’d revealed. “He’s going to send me back to Shropshire immediately.”

  “Is that what he said?”

  “No, but why wouldn’t he? I deserve nothing less.”

  “How did you ruin him? If you were seen kissing, you’d be the one ruined, not him.”

  “Because no one recognized me. They assumed, based on my costume, that I was a maid and that Lord Overton was having his way with me.”

  Cassandra grimaced, her brow creasing as her jaw tensed. “Now I understand. And he’s been working so hard to improve his reputation.”

  Fiona stiffened. “You knew about that?”

  “Vaguely.” Cassandra waved her hand. “He has a reputation as a rake, as do a good number of gentlemen, including my brother. I mean Lu, of course. Con is the most staid gentleman you’ll ever meet. Poor Sabrina.”

  “Sabrina?”

  “His wife. She’s lovely. Hopefully she’ll come to town so you can meet her.” Cassandra frowned and then touched Fiona’s arm. “This is all my fault. I never should have suggested this endeavor. You must lay the blame entirely upon me.”

  “I can’t do that. We were in this together.”

  “I don’t want Overton to send you back to Shropshire. Please say whatever you must.”

  Fiona smiled and took her friend’s hand. “I would never make you the scapegoat, just as you didn’t abandon me at the club.”

  “I couldn’t! I honestly didn’t know what I was going to do, but I wasn’t going to just leave you there.” She squeezed Fiona’s fingers. “Though we only recently met, I have never had a friend as dear as you.”

  “I haven’t either, which is why I won’t mention you at all. Overton won’t even know you were there. And Mrs. Renshaw is going to keep your secret too.”

  Cassandra blew out a breath. “I don’t deserve any of that. I maintain this is my fault.”

  They stared at each other a moment before collapsing into a hug against the seat until they were both laughing.

  They separated, and Fiona flopped back against the squab. “I don’t know how I can find amusement in this. I’m quite anxious to see Lord Overton.”

  “If he tries to send you back to Shropshire, you must allow me, or better yet, Lu, to intervene. I won’t let you go. How can I possibly survive this Season without you?”

  Fiona appreciated her friend’s support, but it was more than that. She didn’t want to return to Bitterley either, and she would do whatever necessary to prevent it—whatever her guardian insisted.

  What if that included kissing? It would never, of course, but she might dream that it did.

  Chapter 12

  Tobias stood stoic as he watched Evie Renshaw lead his ward away through the Ladies’ Phoenix Club garden. Inside, however, he was raging. Not in anger—well, not entirely in anger—but with a wholly unexpected, unwanted, and unsuitable desire.

  “Overton, I must insist you cease that sort of interaction with our maids at once.” Lady Hargrove stood with one hand on her hip as she glowered at him from perhaps five feet away.

  “It was just one maid,” he muttered. Who wasn’t even a maid. But he couldn’t make that clarification without answering questions as to who she really was. Better for everyone to just think she was a maid.

  And he was a lecher.

  “One maid, five maids—it should be no maids!” Lady Hargrove turned to Lucien, who was staring at Tobias with a mix of pity and disbelief. “Lord Lucien, if you can’t keep a rein on your friend, we may need to consider expulsion.”

  Tobias’s eyes widened briefly. In over a year of the club’s existence, they’d never expelled anyone. T
here was no process. Yet. Hell, Tobias refused to be the first. Could they even toss someone who was on the bloody membership committee? As if he could hear Tobias’s question, Lucien gave him the tiniest shake of his head. It did little to improve Tobias’s mood.

  “Let us continue with our discussions for the upcoming assemblies, beginning with next week.” Smiling blandly, Lucien gestured for those who’d come into the garden to return to the ballroom.

  As Tobias walked past his friend, he said nothing. Lucien, however, murmured, “We’ll discuss this after.”

  Tobias could hardly wait.

  Inside the ballroom, Mrs. Holland-Ward, one of the ladies’ club patronesses, announced the plan to have a series of themed balls, beginning with the first of the Season on the second of March. Though it wasn’t yet spring, it would be a celebration of the new season and of beginnings. Those gathered, which included the other patronesses, the membership committee—which the patronesses did not realize was the membership committee—as well as a few other chosen members from each side of the club. The latter group had been invited so as to not only include the membership committee in order to keep their identity secret.

  Tobias thought about how Fiona wanted to come to the balls. Could he allow that now? Would someone here recognize her from today? He’d tried to keep her hidden from everyone, and no one realized she was his ward. However, Evie would know. What was Evie doing with her now?

  And what was Tobias going to do with her?

  Anger—solely directed at himself—rose inside him, and he worked to keep the scowl from his face. In one moment, he’d completely ruined all the good he’d done the past fortnight. For a kiss. But what a kiss… He could still feel the sweet softness of her lips, the eager clasp of her hands on his shoulders, the delicious press of her body against his.

  She was his goddamned ward.

  She was also a massive pain in his arse. What the hell had she been thinking coming here dressed as a maid? Clearly, this had been a well thought out, premeditated scheme. No, it hadn’t been well thought out. It had been utter madness. She’d come horribly close to being seen by everyone. If he hadn’t been the first person out of the room upstairs and seen her before anyone else… It didn’t bear thinking about.

  He ought to send her back to Shropshire tomorrow. Or ensure she was wed with the utmost haste—before she could ruin herself. She’d come damned close today. He realized she didn’t want to marry right away, but she’d quite forfeited her wishes with her impudent behavior.

  “Did you hear any of that?” Lucien asked quietly from his right.

  Blinking, Tobias realized people had broken off into groups and some were leaving. The men—Wexford, MacNair, and a few other fellows—walked into the men’s side of the ballroom, presumably to go upstairs.

  “You can tell me what I missed,” Tobias said, eager to be on his way and…what? Find Fiona? Was she even still here? Evie hadn’t yet returned.

  Lucien moved to stand directly in front of Tobias and narrowed his eyes. “You missed the bloody issue you raised earlier—whether to allow unmarried relatives of members into the assemblies.”

  “Hell, I missed that? I’m rather, ah, distracted.”

  “I should think so.” Lucien shook his head. “Yes, you missed it. Three of the four patronesses were in support, so it passed. Young ladies with relatives who are members may attend, but they must have a chaperone.”

  “Let me guess, Lady Hargrove was not in favor.” Tobias slid a glance toward the woman. In her late forties, she was his least favorite of the patronesses, so, of course, it was her who’d seen him kissing Fiona. Lady Hargrove was an esteemed member of the ton, however, and her husband was a jovial and generous gentleman, the best sort really, which was the primary reason she’d been selected as a patroness. In searching for appropriate women for the role, they’d looked to the wives of gentlemen who’d accepted some of the first invitations of membership. Lord Hargrove was one of those men.

  “You are correct,” Lucien said. “So now my sister and your ward can attend the assembly next week. Except I need to find Cass a chaperone.”

  “She can use Miss Lancaster. Fi—” Tobias realized he’d started first-naming her in his head. Which seemed logical since they’d been kissing a short while ago. However, he couldn’t display such familiarity. Hell, he shouldn’t even be thinking it. “Miss Wingate won’t be coming.” Tobias thought it a very bad idea to bring her back to the scene of the scandal. Not that it was a scandal for her. Hell, if no one knew it was her, she could probably come to the damned ball. Except she had that bloody dark red hair that stood out. It was possible no one would make the connection since she’d been wearing a cap today, but it hadn’t covered her hair entirely.

  “Why not? I thought this entire proposition today was so your ward could attend.”

  “It’s… Never mind.” Tobias wiped his hand over his face.

  “You’re still distracted,” Lucien said. “By the maid. A maid? What the hell were you thinking?” He gave Tobias an icy glower. “Also, don’t fuck with my maids.”

  Before Tobias could say something stupid, such as she wasn’t one of his maids, Evie strode into the ballroom. Leaving Lucien behind, Tobias went to meet her.

  “Where is she?” he asked.

  “On her way home.” Evie gave him a look that told him everything he needed to know—she knew exactly who the “maid” was, and she wasn’t going to tell anyone.

  Tobias briefly clasped her hand. “Thank you.”

  He left the club without a backward glance.

  By the time he reached his house, he’d considered several ways he might approach Fiona. Miss Wingate. As he walked inside, he asked Carrin to summon her to his study. There, he waited anxiously for her arrival.

  He did not have long to wait.

  Now dressed in a floral-patterned gown with her vibrant hair in a severe style without a curl falling loose as it had in the garden, she tentatively stepped inside.

  “Close the door.” He shouldn’t have her do that for propriety’s sake, but this was a private conversation.

  She did as he said and moved to the middle of the room. She looked lovely, despite the obvious tension in her frame. Her jaw was tight as she regarded him with well-earned wariness.

  He stood near his desk, his arms folded, willing himself not to look at her mouth lest he recall kissing her. “Why were you at the club dressed as a maid?”

  “I wanted to see the inside. I thought it would be safe to go at that time of day.”

  “You thought it would be safe?” He ran a hand through his hair before dropping it to his side. “There is nothing safe about disguising yourself and stealing into a private club, even one where women are allowed.”

  “I understand that now,” she said softly.

  “I should bloody hope so. The irony is that you chose a truly awful day for your excursion. There was a meeting to discuss this Season’s assemblies as well as whether family members—and wards of members—could attend.”

  “And can they?” she asked in a voice that grew smaller and higher with each word.

  He stepped toward her, glowering. “It doesn’t matter to you because you won’t be going.”

  Her eyes rounded briefly. “Because you’re sending me back to Bitterley.”

  “I bloody well should. What were you thinking dressing as a maid and—” He stopped short, frowning. “How did you even know how to dress as a maid?”

  “I’m clever.”

  Yes, she was. “Who helped you?”

  “No one.”

  “I don’t believe you. Why aren’t you telling me the truth?”

  She lifted her chin and stared him in the eye unflinchingly. “If you’re going to send me away, just do it, please.”

  He closed the space between them so that she had to tip her head back. “You are fortunate you weren’t recognized because you would have been ruined.”

  “Did I ruin you?” She lowered her gaze as
her brow furrowed. “It seems I may have.”

  Could a man be ruined? Probably, but it took a great deal of effort, especially for an earl. “I established my reputation long before you came along.”

  She looked up at him once more. “But you’ve been trying to rehabilitate it, and I ruined your efforts.”

  “Did Evie tell you that?” He saw the confusion in her eyes and added, “Mrs. Renshaw, I mean.”

  “It’s important that I understand the consequences of my thoughtless actions, which I now do. I’m so sorry.”

  He could see her remorse, could feel it coming off her in waves—so much so that he was tempted to take her in his arms and console her. Which would be the worst idea in the history of ideas. “What should I do with you?” He asked that question of her as much as of himself.

  “I promise I will be a model young lady going forward.”

  “You think I should allow you to continue with your Season? I was of a mind to insist you wed immediately.”

  She nodded. “I understand, and I will work to that end so that I am no longer a burden to you.”

  He flinched. “You aren’t a burden.”

  “I was today.”

  He couldn’t argue with that. While he may not be ruined, she’d made his objective of finding a wife much more difficult.

  “I would do anything to go back and not do what I did.”

  The kiss exploded in his mind. But she likely didn’t mean that. “Go to the club?”

  “Well, that too.” Faint swathes of pink swept up her cheeks. “I was referring to kissing you. I don’t know why I did that. I just felt bad, and it seemed the right thing to do.”

  The right thing… How could that be possible? She was his ward, and he was responsible for her well-being, for her future.

  He looked at her mouth then, at the plump curve of her lips, and recalled how she’d felt in his arms. An overwhelming urge to take her against him once more came over him. The right thing indeed. “It can’t happen again.” His voice sounded rough.