To Wed in Scandal (A Scandal in London Novel)

by Liana Lefey

  She pointed her nose skyward. “I’m afraid you will be sorely disappointed, for I intend to be quite loyal to my husband, whoever he may be.”

  “Your announcement inspires the gravest disappointment, my lady. The kind of disappointment that might make any other man reconsider his wickedness and contemplate reform.”

  “But not you, I take it?”

  “Me? Reform?” He gave a theatrical show of horror, eliciting a giggle. “I shudder to even think what life would be like if morals suddenly became manifest in my constitution. I should be a most dull man if I ever decided to walk the straight and narrow.”

  “Then my intent to honor my vows makes me dull?”

  He stared at her for a moment. “Not in the least. What makes for dullness in a man makes for virtue in a woman, and womanly virtue is a thing to be admired, not mocked. It has become all too rare, these days.”

  Her smile slipped. “You are one of the few who think me virtuous, I’m afraid.”

  “Bah! What are a few stolen kisses? Nothing, that’s what. If you want my opinion, any man who chooses the perfect paragon of chastity for a wife is only asking for trouble.”

  “You’d rather marry a woman with a tarnished reputation?”

  “Good heavens no!” he laughed. “The family name must be preserved, after all. I’m merely saying that I would never wish to marry a complete innocent.”

  “Every man wishes to be the first,” she argued.

  “My dear, I have been a willing participant in more affaires than I care to count, and they have taught me much. I can say with confidence that wives who cuckold their husbands most often came into their marriages completely ignorant. By contrast, the women I’ve found most frustratingly loyal to their vows are those who married after having sampled passion’s delights.”

  Sabrina stared at him, incredulous. It was unconscionable that he should speak so candidly to a young lady. She should by all rights be appalled, but she simply couldn’t find it within herself to be such a hypocrite. She rapped him on the arm with her fan, taking a playful approach to relieve the tension. “You, sir, are trying to corrupt me!”

  “I? Corrupt you?”

  She nodded her head emphatically. “Everyone knows that a female light in the skirt before her wedding is only likely to remain so afterward.”

  “I see. Everyone knows this?”

  “Everyone who matters.”

  “Ah, yes. Society,” he supplied with a curl of his lip. “And whom do you believe? The blackguard who speaks from many years of happy experience—or some shriveled-up old matron who’s never known a moment of passion in her life?”

  “Then what would you advise? Ought I to kiss every gentleman I meet before I dance my way down the aisle?”

  “Certainly not!” he said with horror. “A woman should only kiss those truly skilled in the art. Otherwise, she’ll learn nothing.”

  Though she couldn’t say it, she knew exactly what he meant. Kissing Chadwick had been like kissing an awkward scarecrow, and meeting Fairford’s lips was a lesson in overcoming repulsion. But kissing Henry…

  Her skin began to heat.

  “Then I should only kiss rakes?” she said, pushing away the thought.

  Percy turned and answered in a velvety voice: “Only the ones you trust implicitly. Tell me, whom do you trust?”

  She favored him with a gimlet stare, knowing full well that its effect was ruined by the twitching of her lips. “None that I have met thus far.”

  She laughed with delight as he clutched his chest in a comic pantomime of having been shot. She’d handled him just right.

  Henry chuckled as his friend flopped into the chair opposite him. “The look on your face…Well? What did you think of her?”

  Percy’s grin was easy. “I have indeed met the formidable Lady Sabrina. Sherry,” he murmured to the servant who’d come to attend him. “I can certainly understand why Chadwick was so eager to put on the leg irons.”

  Henry nearly dropped his drink. “I beg your pardon?” Such a comment from the man was unprecedented.

  “A fascinating specimen, is she not?”

  “My God, don’t tell me she’s rooked you?”

  The other man looked at him over the rim of his goblet with merry eyes. “Me? Rooked? Nonsense! There isn’t an unwed female alive who isn’t out to bag me. I saw what she was on about the moment she pretended not to know me.”

  Henry relaxed.

  “She’s shopping for another suitor,” continued Percy. “If I’m to succeed in this little deception, Henry, I’m afraid I shall have no choice but to put myself on the market.”

  “You’re not serious?” Henry wasn’t sure he liked the direction this was headed. Sabrina was as safe with Percy as she was with her own mother, but…

  Percy shrugged. “You asked me to help you watch her and keep her safe from Fairford—well, here is the perfect opportunity. Well? What say you? Shall I cast my lot in?”

  Though his face remained impassive, Henry’s heart burned. “I suppose, if it is the only way,” he said reluctantly.

  His friend leaned forward, eyes alight with curiosity. “And what if through this ruse of yours I should actually succeed in persuading her to marry me? Ought I go through with it, do you think? I know my parents would be delighted to strengthen ties between our families.”

  “She’s not your kind of woman,” Henry answered sharply. He calmed his tone. “Your standards are far more sophisticated. Sabrina is an innocent.”

  Percy only laughed. “Any woman who would put a living snake in your pocket is certainly up to my standards by merit of sheer mischief. Besides, my father has been after me to find a decent girl.” He peered at him, sobering. “By George, you aren’t bothered by the idea, are you? I know you’ve kissed her, but I thought that was just—”

  “Of course not. It’s only that I know Sabrina would never seriously consider you,” Henry said, deliberately doing his best to appear nonchalant. “You are far too much like her father.” Which is the problem.

  The impudent grin returned. “I can certainly remedy that little misperception. You’re, ah, quite certain you aren’t interested in her yourself?”

  Henry wanted to hurl the decanter at his friend’s head. Instead, he gripped the handle a bit tighter and poured himself another glass. “Do as you please—only don’t come running to me in a panic when the hellion takes you up on it,” he said with nearly perfect equanimity. Nearly.

  The other man stared at him for a long moment. “Very well, then. I shall shock the masses tomorrow and put myself forth. I would only do this for you, you know. I’ve spent years cultivating my reputation as an impossible fish to catch. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice.”

  Henry forced a smile to his lips. “She hasn’t accepted you yet.”

  “She will,” promised Percy, laughing. “I can be very persuasive, and I’ve never yet had a woman turn me down.”

  God.

  His head began to pound. It was time to face the truth. If she accepted Percy’s proposal, it would mean he’d never had a chance at all. Not really.

  He made the decision to try one more time. If he could not convince her to marry him for the right reasons, then he would rather her have a measure of what she took for happiness with Percy. At least with him, she’d be safe from Fairford.

  It was the lesser of two evils. He doubted very much whether he would be able to wish them well, but if she persisted in her blind prejudice against him, it might be the only viable alternative.

  There is always abduction, his thoughts whispered. He could. He could compromise her and force the issue. But she would never trust him again for as long as she lived, and that was no marriage. He wanted her to choose him.

  LONDON WAS ABUZZ with the astonishing news: Lord Falloure, the man long hailed as “The Terror of the Ton,” had at last succumbed and was paying earnest court to the increasingly outrageous Lady Sabrina.

  And there was more. News had reached Henry t
hat Percy had put aside his latest mistress.

  Today, as he and Sabrina walked along the edge of the woods at Belleford, Henry decided to take the bull by the horns. “I wish to discuss the matter of you and Falloure,” he began quietly, staring at the reflected sunlight dancing on the river’s surface.

  “What is there to discuss?”

  “Are you planning on accepting his offer?”

  She shifted, the nervous motion betraying her. “What offer? He hasn’t made one.”

  “He will.”

  “Are you so certain of another man’s intent?” she inquired lightly. “I’ve already told you he is merely a friend.”

  “Yes, which is the same thing you told people about me, and I should think we are more than just friends.”

  She sighed, picked a leaf from a nearby tree, and flicked it away. “Perhaps that is the problem. Your possessiveness has overreached the reality of our relationship.”

  “I won’t deny that I don’t like his hanging about,” he continued, “but my main interest is in protecting you.”

  “Haven’t you figured out by now that I’m quite capable of managing myself without a keeper? I don’t need your protection. Besides, there is nothing to protect me from. He. Hasn’t. Proposed.”

  “He will.”

  “Are you aware of something I am not? Has he shouted from some rooftop that he intends to ask me?”

  “He might as well have. He has dismissed his mistress.”

  “Yes, he told me he was planning on doing so,” she answered with a careless shrug.

  Her answer stopped him in his tracks. “He did what?”

  “He said she’d become a nuisance of late.”

  “Sabrina, you must see what he’s doing. You cannot possibly be so blind!”

  “Henry, really. This is—”

  “I’ll not stand idly by and watch him destroy you.”

  “Destroy me? He represents everything I desire,” she told him.

  “Coward.” The soft accusation hung in the air between them, a tangible thing.

  Her eyes flashed. “I am no coward. If I were, I’d have married Chadwick and been done with this long ago. In fact, I find myself wondering why I did not. He would have been the better choice at the time.”

  “The safer maybe, but certainly not the better,” Henry countered. “You would have been miserable with him, and you know it. You need someone stronger than—”

  “You seem to know an awful lot about what I need,” she cut in, her temper showing.

  “I know that you need to trust your heart. What does it say about Falloure?”

  “The heart is a poor judge of character, easily tricked.”

  “The heart is the only trustworthy judge of character,” he replied, turning to face her. “But if you trust not your heart, then what of your instincts?” he asked. “What do they tell you? What do they whisper? If you are honest with yourself, you’ll find you don’t mistrust me—you mistrust yourself.”

  “I trust my own judgment implicitly and recognize that it is only impaired when I allow passion to interfere with it. Is it so terrible that I would rather make my choice based on logic than emotion? Why may I not do so without being the subject of constant harassment? If Percy asks me to marry him, I would have to say that he is the most logical of my current options.”

  “Why?”

  “What do you mean, ‘Why?’” she asked. “I like him. I actually enjoy his company. He doesn’t constantly harass me, and I’m able to think clearly when I’m with him!” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “You cannot know how upsetting it is to be around someone and be unable to even think.”

  “I can. I do. Because that is how I am with you. I find myself saying things that I know I shouldn’t. I find myself doing things—”

  “Then perhaps he will save us both!” she shouted.

  He stared, unwilling to believe he’d heard the words. “Did Percy ever tell you that we are friends?” He knew it would ruin his plans to have Percy tell her about Fairford, but that didn’t really matter anymore.

  She blinked in surprise.

  “We served together in the Coldstream Guards many years ago,” he went on. “We’ve been friends since before I left England. Are you not curious to know why a man with his reputation suddenly became interested in you?” He leaned closer. “He did it in order to prove a point to me.” It was the truth, mostly.

  “It hardly matters,” she replied, her voice breaking. “Either way, I’ll still get what I want. What I have always wanted.” But even as she said it, he saw tears form at the edges of her lashes.

  Why did she have to be so damned stubborn?

  Though it was warm out, Sabrina felt the chill of winter in her heart as Henry stared at her for a moment, and then turned and walked away. The withdrawal of his presence was like the veiling of the sun. She hated herself for hurting him. But it was the only way.

  She licked her lips, tasted salt, and realized she was crying. She almost called him back. Almost.

  If she married him, she would want him body and soul. She would be what she’d sworn never to become: a jealous, possessive wife. They weren’t even wed and just the thought of him touching another woman drove her insane. Could she live with it if he wandered? Her mother had survived it, but she didn’t know if she had the fortitude to do so.

  Percy inspired no such jealousy. Nor did he inspire passion. And he demanded no part of her heart.

  Why did he never mention their friendship? Is he really only pursuing me to make a point?

  It didn’t matter. If he asked her to marry him, she would accept and she would make sure it happened. She would get what she wanted. She would win.

  But is that really what you want? The niggling doubt gnawed at her gut as she started the long walk back to the manor. By the time she arrived, a hundred tiny daggers were poking at her skull from the inside.

  Returning to the festivities, she sought out Percy. “You look as though you could use a brandy,” he said, shocking a nearby lady and wresting a faint smile from Sabrina’s lips.

  “It is nothing,” she replied, unable to help glancing toward the source of her upset. He was walking with his sister, looking as serene and undisturbed as ever. It was so unfair. She smiled up at Percy. “Let us take a turn about the statuary. I hear Lord Belleford recently acquired a new piece from Athens.”

  Sabrina agonized over her decision. The strength of her growing attachment to Henry was completely terrifying. The prospect of marrying Fairford was just as unnerving, but in a different way. No matter how genteel his behavior had been since the incident, the memory of that day in the orchard had robbed her of any peace in his presence.

  Percy’s visits had provided the only solace over the past few weeks. More and more, she had begun to look forward to seeing him, if only to have someone to talk to who did not pose some sort of threat.

  If Henry was correct and the man was planning to ask for her hand, she would say yes. Easy to like and companionable, Percy was the perfect companion. He made her laugh. He acknowledged and even admired her intelligence. They enjoyed long discussions on all manner of interesting subjects. He was a wonderful friend.

  A friend who never once attempted to take liberties.

  Again her glance fell on Henry. She sincerely began to hope his prophecy came to fruition, because she certainly needed someone to rescue her from this mess of her own making.

  ONE WEEK LATER

  SABRINA LOOKED OUT the rain-streaked windows and frowned. Eugenia had sent a note inviting her to visit today, but she rather felt like staying indoors. Just as she turned, movement on the drive caught her eye. It was Falloure’s carriage.

  She went downstairs immediately.

  “Shall I tell him you are not at home, my lady?” asked the butler.

  “No. Bring him into the blue salon,” she said and went to wait for him there. Mama was out and would no doubt be wroth with her for receiving him, but heaven knew she had little en
ough opportunity to have a private word with anyone these days.

  “Thank you,” she told the butler as he showed her guest in. “You may go. If my mother comes, please send her here.”

  Her unexpected guest bowed. “I apologize for coming unannounced.”

  “Is everything well?” she asked, growing concerned.

  “Quite well. And I hope that it will be even better after you answer my question.”

  She froze.

  “I feel we have become good friends, you and I. We enjoy each other’s company, we share a common view on many things, and we understand and accept each other as we are. Such friendships are rare, priceless even. Even more rare is the marriage built upon such a solid foundation. So I will simply ask.” He sank to one knee. “Sabrina, I know you are already besieged by offers, but I sincerely hope that you will do me the honor of accepting mine. Will you marry me?”

  She hesitated. This was it, the moment she’d planned for and worked toward all Season. It was her moment of triumph. So why did it feel so empty?

  Swallowing past the lump in her throat, she answered him. “I will.” It didn’t even sound like her own voice.

  He stood and bent over to kiss her, and she obediently tilted her head upward, hoping to feel something, anything other than numbness or revulsion.

  “Merciful God!”

  Yelping in alarm, Sabrina sprang away.

  Her mother stood in the doorway, staring at them in shock.

  “Your ladyship, please accept my humblest apology,” said Percy. “I meant to speak with you first, but you were not at home. Your daughter has just accepted my proposal.”

  “Sabrina, a private word. At once,” her mother said in a voice like cool steel sliding back into its sheath. “You may wait in the hall,” she commanded their guest.

  Obediently, Percy stepped out to await the verdict.

  Sabrina winced as her mother slammed the door behind him. “Mama, I know you favor Henry, but truly, this is for the best.”