A Proper Scandal

by Paula, Rebecca

  “Very well.” Alex was so frustrated that he could think of nothing else to say, so he spun around to leave. Fleeing would at least save whatever dignity he had left.

  “If you arrive at eight and happen to run into our party on the front stairs at the opera house, I might be able to procure an invitation for you to join us.”

  Alex stopped, his back still to Minnie.

  “If you wish,” she continued, mirth heavy in her words.

  After the other night, he supposed he deserved being teased. He grabbed his hat from the footman and stuffed it onto his head before turning and tipping it over his brow. “Then I shall happen upon you then...Min.”

  He left before she could correct his informal address.

  §

  Minnie wore a red, daring venture. Not a demure burgundy or deep wine. She wore scarlet, and the scandal of it was delicious. Her dressmaker had outdone himself.

  “You’ll be in all the social columns in the morning,” Chantal giggled, latching onto her elbow as they climbed the steps to the opera house.

  “Undoubtedly.” That had been her intention. The modiste had been insistent on a new fashion, something extremely low cut with the tightest corset Minnie had ever sucked her body into. The result was splendid, even if she couldn’t breathe.

  Eyes were on her almost instantly. Men ogled, wives pulled their husbands back, and the society matrons rushed to malign her behind their fans. Censure meant nothing when she had the approval of Monsieur Peprin. Seeing that he was quite pleased, there wasn’t a thing to worry about.

  “Everyone is staring.” Jealousy oozed from Chantal’s words as Minnie’s smile spread. “How do you do it?”

  Minnie winked at a portly man who turned red once his wife caught him staring.

  “You vixen!”

  Laughter rolled from her core, deep and unguarded. Chantal acted as if it were all luck, as if Minnie was some ugly duckling transformed. And perhaps it did help to finally have caught the eye of Monsieur Peprin, but it had not been some overnight miracle. She had fought for this evening. She had fought for his attention, for his money. He had what she wanted and she was so close now. Minnie would dwell in its glory like a glutton.

  “Evie.” Chantal’s elbow rammed against Minnie’s corseted core. It would have hurt if she could actually feel her middle. “Who is that with Monsieur Peprin?”

  A woman could fall in love with the way Alex looked there on the steps, standing coolly with the most powerful man in Montmartre. It was hard to tell if he recognized her as she approached, but perhaps that was for the best, because she was grinning like a fool.

  “I don’t know,” Minnie lied on a soft exhale.

  His eyes slid to her for a brief moment, a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. That was all. One brief moment that forced her recognize her racing heart against her constricted chest.

  “Let’s know.” Chantal towed Minnie up the remaining stairs, past the thickening crowd. “I find myself wanting to know very much.”

  Heat rose to her cheeks as they neared, her eyes settling on his mouth, remembering the kiss they last shared. That wonderful, divine kiss that turned the world upside down. It’d fed her all these years in moments of darkness. It’d given her a glimpse of hope that someday someone might be kind to her again, that possibly she would learn what love was, instead of always having to play at it for money and attention.

  “Ah, there you are,” Peprin said, observing the pair with a proud smile. He scanned the crowd behind Minnie and Chantal, no doubt taking in how they were attracting the attention of most of Parisian society. The other men crowding around were like hungry wolves, smiling and assessing, as if Minnie and Chantal were on the dinner menu. Such things came with the territory, but still, Alex didn’t look directly at Minnie. Instead, he shared a private laugh with another of Monsieur Peprin’s friends.

  “Shall we proceed inside?” Peprin asked.

  “Who is your friend, monsieur?” Chantal eyed Alex, her mouth in a perfect pink pout. Her last patron had been so wild about her mouth that he commissioned a portrait of her to grace his study’s walls. There had been the diamonds, too, and furs, but duty called and he was married to a far wealthier American. Chantal had moved back in with Minnie and Vivien, unable to afford that lifestyle.

  Alex’s eyes drew up from the stairs to Minnie in a long, slow sweep. The precious little air she had in her lungs squeezed out when their gazes connected. There was a playful light shining in his eyes. Then that smile. That cursed, splendid smile.

  Alex bowed as Monsieur Peprin said, “Allow me to introduce Monsieur Marwick.”

  “Will you be joining us?” Chantal asked.

  When Alex returned Chantal’s smile, Minnie grew rigid. She wished to ask that question of him. She wanted his company. Coy as she might have been with Alex that morning, his visit had spurred something hopeful within her. She might have left for Paris, but she had never rid herself of what she had shared with Alex.

  “No, I don’t wish to interfere.”

  “Nonsense,” Minnie jumped in. “Please join us. Can’t he, Monsieur Peprin?”

  Maybe it was the eagerness in her voice that caused Monsieur Peprin to narrow his eyes at her. Maybe it was only her nerves. Or perhaps it was uneasiness as Alex continued to ignore her. It seemed rather easy for him and she didn’t like that one bit.

  “It would be so nice to speak with a fellow countryman,” she said, fluttering her eyelashes at the older man in an attempt to recover.

  The guarded look on his face disappeared and he smiled, as always, at the charming Evie. The man was putty in her hand. “Who am I to deny the lovely Mademoiselle Dupree?” Peprin tapped his cane against the stairs. “Yes, please join us, Monsieur Marwick. I insist.”

  Alex extended his arm to Minnie. “If I may have the pleasure of escorting you, Miss Dupree?”

  “Thank you, Mr. Marwick,” Minnie replied in English, ignoring Chantal. The wealthy half of Paris was at the opera, Chantal could surely find some other man to be her keeper and leave Alex well alone.

  Though his hands were gloved, he made one wicked swipe of his fingers against the small slip of skin between her gloves and the dropped sleeve of her dress. It caught her off-guard and she stumbled over her step, forcing out a deep breath to stop the ground from moving beneath her feet.

  She glanced sideways, catching a brief glimpse of the man escorting her into the most beautiful building she had ever stepped foot in. He sensed her looking, catching her as he stole a glance of his own before focusing on the crush ahead of them.

  Alex was all shadows that evening, impossible to read and far out of reach. She thought that maybe he was happy to see her, but then his features would pull together in seriousness and her doubts settled in once more.

  He moved them through the crowd with a prowess she didn’t remember him capable of, a quiet confidence of a man, not the Irish pickpocket who often sported a black eye and bloodied knuckles. And when she thought that perhaps he had transformed into a gentleman, he tripped her. She landed upside down in his arms, his hands resting over her corseted middle.

  “Easy there, Min,” he whispered in her ear as he righted her. He set her back onto her feet, but Minnie didn’t feel as if she were standing. The hushed gasps of the crowd quieted as she blushed and waved off their concern. In that moment, she hated her scandalous choice of color.

  The nerve of him to embarrass her so thoroughly in front of Paris society. As they approached Peprin’s box, she sent the curve of her hip against his thigh, knocking him off balance.

  He stumbled forward, smirking down at her as she smiled in kind. They were no better than children. They didn’t belong there at the opera if they were to continue on like this for the rest of the evening. He didn’t belong at her side when her mind was set on the stage below. And whatever dream he harbored, she could not remain at his side if he wanted to appear in polite society. Minnie would never be accepted at luncheon groups or ch
arity fundraisers. She was restricted to the dance halls and the wicked delights that came when dark settled over the city. Life as a demimondaine had its limitations. Of course, it had its freedoms as well.

  §

  The problem was that damn red dress of hers. Leave it to Minnie to wear a scandal. Living one was never enough.

  If she had accepted Alex’s invitation, they could have been friendly. Familiar. It could have been like those long nights they shared in London where they laughed until they cried. Instead, she had insisted they pretend they didn’t know one another. And that was impossible after having his hand down her dress nearly a week ago.

  He had come to Paris to secure his next job. With that money, he could finally purchase the theater in London and make it his own, and he could prove to Ainsworth he was worthy of running Millay’s Club when he retired. He needed Paris to be a success, but the discovery of Minnie was a distraction. A very dangerous distraction.

  The opera wasn’t spectacular, though to be fair, Alex never appreciated the opera. His attention was elsewhere, anyway.

  Minnie handled the group in the box with a finessed skill acquired over time. No more the girl pretending to be a paramour in a dodgy London casino. She didn’t falter now. She was unreservedly charming. They adored her. Hell, Alex adored her, wearing that brilliant dress of hers. He lifted his glass up to her in salute from across the box. The truth was, a girl like Minnie Ravensdale was irresistible.

  And just as suddenly, he could not stomach watching her entertain everyone else. He wanted to be in her company. Alone. He wanted her smile and her laughs. She was being served up like some rich dessert to Peprin.

  He shot up from his seat, neglecting to make apologies, and exited the box. It wasn’t possible to stand by and watch Minnie without that strange primal feeling tugging at him.

  Alex leaned against the cool marble wall and bowed his head. It drove him mad with jealousy.

  “Are you upset with me?”

  Her voice was a poor mask. Of course she would play it like he was to blame. Was he? Was he being unreasonable?

  “No.” His own answer was a lie, evident by the way he had to force out each letter on a hard exhale. He closed his eyes as she walked around to face him. The rustle of silk gliding over the marble tiled floor was all that filled the space around them.

  Beyond the curtains, the orchestra struck up, building to an aria’s crescendo, yet all he focused on was the way he tensed when her body stood in front of his. She stepped closer, her skirt covering his shoes, her rose perfume clouding his mind. His eyes opened and he pinned his gaze to hers. In one moment, he dove headfirst into madness, pulling her against him, his lips sucking at the hollow of her throat.

  Minnie braced herself over him, her hands pinned on either side of his head. She surrounded him without touching his body. Her hands slipped farther down the wall, drawing her body forward. Alex framed her tiny waist with his hands as her mouth parted on a sigh. She took his mouth, her tongue moving over his lips in a wicked flutter. With a burning graze of one finger, Minnie ignited his want.

  She pulled back, leaned closer to his ear. “You’re mad with me.” Her fingers slid higher into his hair and tugged.

  Alex should have put a respectable distance between them, but he didn’t care. Let them be discovered.

  “You can’t kiss me here.” Her hands traveled down the buttons of his waistcoat until she gave a playful push and backed away.

  “No?”

  She bit her bottom lip as she backed further out of his reach.

  He scanned the hallways and found that they were thankfully empty, the audience still seated as the opera continued, and the music filling up the building like a heartbeat. Or perhaps that was just the sound of his own heartbeat filling his ears as he stalked her down the hall. “Here?” he asked, as they approached the staircase.

  Her eyebrows drew up into a peak, her smile widening. Minnie whirled around, her skirts billowing over the floor in a wave of red. He allowed her only a few more steps before he reached out and pulled her back behind a curtained room, thankfully vacant.

  “Here should do I thi—”

  Maybe he had leaned closer or maybe it was Minnie, but it didn’t really matter because they were kissing again, hidden away from prying eyes.

  Her arms wrapped tightly around his neck as his lips moved from her lips to her face to the line of her neck. He was so hungry for her and that damn red dress. If she wanted a scandal, then let them be caught and they could be married in the morning. He wouldn’t feel bad for wanting her when she kissed him back, eagerly and passionately.

  “I don’t like pretending,” he said on a rushed breath.

  She nipped at his earlobe. “They can’t know, Alex. He can’t.”

  Alex drew back enough to gaze at her face in the darkened room as they both caught their breath, awakening to the reality that awaited them both on the other side of the curtain.

  “It will ruin everything.” She leaned in again and kissed him as if it was as natural for her as breathing, but it was spoiled now, his head spinning with the truth.

  He slowly lowered her to the ground, taking a small step back so he could put himself together and face her like a man instead of a besotted boy. He had half of the London underground at his control, but put Minnie in front of him and everything was shot to hell.

  “Why are you in Paris?” she asked.

  It was funny to hear, when he had several of his own questions. Namely, why she was living in a house owned by Peprin? He held his tongue again for the millionth time that evening and took another step back.

  She let out a sigh, her gaze shifting uncomfortably to the floor before looking back at him, her face now serious, the teasing erased. He remained still as she closed the little distance he had carved between them, two soft footfalls as the orchestra struck up in the background.

  “You’ve changed and remained the same all at once. How is it that I know you but feel like we are strangers who must start over?”

  His circumstances had certainly changed and his mind, however fickle, seemed to be in order as of late. But one thing remained constant. The world could rise and fall, but he would always feel the same for the woman standing in front of him.

  “You should return,” he said, realizing that they had been with a group of people who would notice their lengthy disappearance. If they had to pretend, then they could start now in the dark room where he could not see her clearly.

  The back of her hand skimmed his cheek, back and forth in an easy sway, her eyes fixed to his.

  He thought, however foolish, that for one small moment they understood each other. “You look beautiful tonight,” he whispered, feeling the need to tell her what no one else had.

  Her mouth stretched into a smile, but her eyes looked sad as she said, “Thank you.”

  Minnie rested her forehead against his lips, her other hand curling around the nape of his neck. He had just worked at unwinding their bodies and already she was surrounding him.

  “Go on, darling,” he whispered, taking her hand and pushing her back into a spin. She gave a small gleeful laugh as she twirled around him, her skirts tangling around his legs. He pulled her in for one last kiss. That was all—one more kiss so he could have the nerve to keep up their charade.

  She licked her lips as she backed up against the curtain, a grin on her face. “Mr. Marwick.” Minnie dipped into that clumsy curtsey of hers before pushing out into the hallway.

  Alex slumped back against the wall, tugging at his cuffs as he tried wiping the smug smile off his face. “Mrs. Marwick.”

  Chapter 11

  It was two in the afternoon when Alex called on Minnie. The footman insisted she wasn’t accepting calls, then promptly closed the door in his face. But that answer wasn’t satisfactory. Alex knew Minnie would be accepting calls from visitors today. He was going to see her if he had to scale the walls and slip into her bloody window.

  He knocked again,
and when the footman answered the door, Alex pushed by the timid man and smiled cunningly at the maid rushing up the stairs to alert her mistress.

  Sure, it was untoward of Alex to call on a single lady in the afternoon. But the woman had her own house. This was the same woman who just two nights prior wore nothing but a silk sheet and kissed a woman on a Parisian stage. Propriety was lost on a wild woman like Minnie Ravensdale. It was more of a suggestion than ordinance.

  He followed on the heels of the maid, who was determined to warn her mistress of his unannounced invasion. It was as if he was the bloody Spanish Inquisition.

  “Mademoiselle,” she said, as she swung the door open. “Mademoiselle!” she exclaimed.

  “Allow me,” Alex said, pushing by the shocked maid.

  Minnie lay toppled over from her vanity chair, lost in a sea of pink tulle, wearing a crooked tiara of paste diamonds. “Ho! A-Alex,” she slurred with a merry smile on her face.

  “Having some trouble with your chair?”

  “Why, yes!” She moved her hand up to straighten her misplaced crown. It looked as if she had just been deposited home after an outlandish party.

  The sad sight of her reminded him of the young girl longing to be a ballerina. With a self-possessed sigh, he took another step into the room. “Leave us,” he said, ignoring the maid’s protest.

  “Go, go,” Minnie echoed, waving her hand as if she were shooing a stubborn pest.

  The door clicked shut and he was left standing alone with Minnie.

  “Hello!” she bellowed again.

  “Yes, hello.” He straddled a chair opposite of her and sat. “So,” he began, dropping his chin to rest on the back of the chair.

  She didn’t move.

  Alex tapped his fingers on the mahogany. “The chair moved?”

  A laugh bubbled from her throat, growing louder until she threw her head back and laughed some more. “If you would just—you’re very handsome!” she said, smiling up at him with the wide, blinking eyes of an owl.