A Taste for Scandal

by Brenda Hiatt

  A Taste for Scandal

  Brenda Hiatt

  A TASTE FOR SCANDAL

  Seven Saints Hunt Club, Book 3

  Brenda Hiatt

  Copyright 2019 by Brenda Hiatt

  Cover art by Dar Albert

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  This is a work of fiction. Though some actual historical places, persons and events are depicted in this work, the primary characters and their stories are fictional. Any resemblance between those characters and actual persons, living or dead, are purely coincidental.

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  License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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  Dolphin Star Press

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  ISBN: 978-1-947205-04-8

  Also by Brenda Hiatt

  The Seven Saints Hunt Club

  Tessa’s Touch

  The Runaway Heiress

  A Taste for Scandal

  * * *

  The Saint of Seven Dials

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  Scandalous Virtue

  Rogue’s Honor

  Noble Deceptions

  Innocent Passions

  Saintly Sins

  Gallant Scoundrel

  * * *

  Hiatt Regency Classics

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  Gabriella

  The Cygnet

  Lord Dearborn's Destiny

  Daring Deception

  Christmas Promises (novella)

  Christmas Bride

  Azalea

  * * *

  Americana Dreaming

  * * *

  Azalea

  Ship of Dreams

  Bridge Over Time

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Scandalous Virtue (Preview)

  Author’s Note

  Also by Brenda Hiatt

  About the Author

  Synopsis

  The course of true love never did run smooth…

  * * *

  Violet Turpin has always lived for adventure and romance, a combination that has more than once gotten her into trouble. Her first attempt at a London debut was short and disastrous because her love of excitement far outstripped her concern for the proprieties. A few months later, she eloped with a sweet-talking fortune hunter and was only saved from ruin in the nick of time. Now she’s determined to ride in fox hunts, even though that’s not something ladies do. Knowing all this, her brother asks his friend Lord Rushford to keep a close eye on her during her second attempt at a London Season—a task the earl is reluctant to take on, given his most inconvenient attraction to the madcap Miss Turpin.

  His task is made harder by Violet’s plans for her time in London. Not only does she hope to find adventure and True Love, she is determined to meet and assist the fabled Saint of Seven Dials, whom she has long idolized. When a plausible rogue learns of her obsession with the Saint, he hatches a plot of his own to take advantage of it—and her. Rush will have his hands full keeping Violet out of trouble as he tries to catch whoever is impersonating the Saint of Seven Dials, all while trying to reconcile himself to the betrothal he unwisely agreed to the previous year. Will he and Violet realize that True Love is right under their noses in time to prevent a lifetime of regrets?

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  Book 3 of the “Seven Saints Hunt Club” series, set in the same world as “The Saint of Seven Dials” series.

  * * *

  For two FREE short stories (including a prequel to “The Saint of Seven Dials” series) and the latest news about my books, please subscribe to my newsletter (click here).

  Chapter One

  “At last!” Violet Turpin leaned forward eagerly as the carriage rounded the last curve in the road and Ivy Lodge came into view.

  After a deadly dull January and February, she could scarcely wait for the adventures awaiting her. She planned to make the most of her week or so here in the Shires, before continuing on to London, where she hoped for even more excitement.

  “So this be where Master Grant spends so much of his time, is it, Miss?” her maid Brigid asked.

  “Yes, my brother has always been mad for fox hunting. I’ve always loved his stories about it, but will enjoy even more experiencing the sport for myself.” While in Melton Mowbray, she was determined to join at least one hunt…somehow.

  Brigid regarded her dubiously. “Think you Master Grant will allow that, Miss? Lady Rumble won’t like it, that’s certain.”

  Violet grimaced. “What Mama doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

  She had tried more than once to inveigle her way into the small, local hunt back home in Lincolnshire, but her mother always got wind in time to forbid it. Grant, she hoped, would be less prudish. Particularly as his recent marriage had already mellowed him somewhat when last she saw him.

  Still, he would likely need some persuasion. Like their mother, he often tended to assume the worst when it came to Violet.

  True, eloping with a fortune hunter last autumn had been one of her more foolish starts, but as it had resulted in Grant’s marriage to Dina, she hoped he no longer held it against her. The whole matter had been successfully hushed up, after all.

  Dina, in Gretna Green herself, had opened Violet’s eyes to Mr. Plunkett’s true nature in time to prevent their marriage. When Grant arrived the next morning, he’d been so grateful for Dina’s intervention, he’d agreed to her surprising request that he marry her on the spot—the only way she could safeguard her fortune from her gamester brother. Lady Rumble had put about the story that it was actually Grant and Dina who had eloped, and that Violet had gone along as chaperone. Thus far, no one outside the family seemed to be any the wiser.

  “I wonder if Grant and Dina will have arrived yet?” Violet wondered aloud as the coach pulled to a halt before the picturesque manor house that served as headquarters for the Seven Saints Hunt Club.

  As if in answer to her question, the front door opened and her brother and his wife emerged, waving.

  Violet had the carriage door open before the coachman could jump down from the box. Hurrying up the wide steps, she delightedly hugged her diminutive sister-in-law.

  “It’s wonderful to see you again, Dina! I must say, your time alone with this hulking brother of mine seems to have agreed with you. You are positively glowing.”

  Chuckling, Grant smiled lovingly down at his wife. “She is, isn’t she? I, ah, trust Mother and Father were well when you left them?”

  “Perfectly,” Violet replied, hugging him in turn. “When did you two arrive?”

  “Barely half an hour since,” Dina replied. “Come in and warm yourself while we, er, catch up on news.”

  Violet obligingly linked arms with her and they turned toward the house. “We can also start planning for our time in London. I am determined you will have as much fun there as I plan to, Dina. Indeed, it will be so much more enjoyable with you as my chaperone instead of stuffy old Aunt Philomena. We shall go to the theatre and attend balls, routs and all manner of entertainments together.”

  Her brother cleared his throat,
giving Dina a significant look, which Violet instantly interpreted.

  “Oh, do not worry, Grant, I’ll not lead her into anything improper. I know the main point of my Season is to finally make my debut and to secure a good match, though I warn you I intend to hold out for romance. If a title comes with it, so much the better.”

  Just then, a tall man cantered past. Violet instantly recognized the broad shoulders, dark hair and chiseled profile of Lord Rushford—the man who had embodied her ideal of a romantic hero since her very first sight of him as a girl of twelve.

  Alas, the earl had made clear while briefly visiting Plumrose over Yuletide that he did not regard her in a similar light. Perhaps she could change his mind on that point during her time in the Shires? If not, well, all of London still awaited her, to include—

  “Oh!” She turned back toward the carriage, where her trunks were being unstrapped. “Brigid, I believe I left my book on the seat. Will you fetch it, please?”

  The girl obliged and Violet took it from her before accompanying Grant and Dina into the parlor, which boasted a blazing fire.

  “It’s my latest favorite,” Violet said, displaying the book to them.

  “The Saint of Seven Dials: The Man and the Legend,” Dina read aloud. “Is it new?”

  Violet nodded. “Yes, published just last autumn. A friend gave it to me for Twelfth Night and I daresay I’ve read it through six times by now. I had little else to do, wet and cold as the weather has been. After learning so much about him, I very much hope to somehow meet the Saint while in London so I may assist him in his endeavors. Can you think of anything more exciting…or romantic?”

  Grant shook his head. “You really are incorrigible, Vi. I hope you’ll not be too disappointed when—”

  He broke off as Lady Killerby entered the parlor. According to Grant, she’d taken up residence here last autumn after her son’s riding injury, since installing herself as a sort of matriarch of the hunt club.

  “Welcome back to Ivy Lodge, my dear,” she greeted Violet. “Lady Rumble wrote that you should arrive in time for dinner, but ’tis such a long drive I thought it unlikely. Yet here you are!”

  “I left at daybreak, so eager was I to see Grant and Dina again,” Violet told the dowager, a good friend of her mother’s. “Especially as I expected to see them more than a month ago—though newlyweds that they are, I really can’t blame them for wanting some extra time alone at Ashcombe.”

  Ashcombe was Dina’s estate in Staffordshire. She and Grant had taken up residence there just after Christmas, when Dina’s brother left England to escape his debts and the law. Since then, they’d been making some much-needed improvements there.

  “Mother was disappointed when you did not return to Plumrose for the rest of the Yuletide season,” she told them. “She quickly cheered up, however, when I pointed out to her that the more time you two spent alone at Ashcombe, the sooner she would likely see grandchildren.”

  Grant and Dina exchanged a startled look, at which Violet laughed.

  “No, no. You needn’t fear I’ll pester you on the topic as she has. If I did, you might change your mind about coming to Town, which would leave me to suffer another Season with Aunt Philomena as chaperone.”

  “Er, Violet—” Dina began, but Lady Killerby interrupted her.

  “You ladies will wish to change before dinner, I imagine,” she told them. “I’m just going up to do so myself. I’ve put you in the same room as before, as it still won’t do for Miss Turpin to sleep alone in a bachelor establishment such as this.”

  Violet regarded her in amusement. “My reputation can surely be at no risk with you also under this roof, my lady, but I’ll not argue. Come, Dina, we can talk as we change.”

  As they mounted the stairs, Dina sent a questioning look over her shoulder at Grant, who gave her a small nod. No doubt they had hoped to share a bedchamber this time, Violet realized. Perhaps she could ask Lady Killerby to let her sleep in her room instead of with Dina?

  When Grant paused by the door of the chamber she was to share with Dina, Violet turned to her sister-in-law to suggest that, but Dina forestalled her by speaking first.

  “Violet, there is something you need to know.”

  Her worried expression immediately sparked an answering worry in Violet. Opening the chamber door, she ushered her sister-in-law and brother inside.

  “What is it?” she asked them. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not…wrong, precisely,” Dina replied, her color deepening. “Indeed, we are both quite delighted with the news.”

  Violet frowned for a moment, then gave a sudden gasp. “News? Do you mean that you and Grant—? That you—?”

  Dina nodded, a smile now playing about her lips. “Yes, we learned just a few days since that we are expecting a child, most likely in October. You are the first to hear, for we feared if we wrote to your mother she would tell you before we could—and I very much wished to tell you myself.”

  “Oh, Dina!” Violet threw her arms around her sister-in-law. “I am beyond delighted for you both! Of course, Mama will be in absolute ecstasies when she hears. As am I!”

  “You…are not disappointed?”

  “Disappointed? Beside myself with joy, more like! You will find me the most doting auntie that ever was,” she declared. “Why, even Mama will be hard pressed to outdo me. How lucky that we shall have this time in London before the baby comes, for the shops there will have vastly more to choose from than those in Alford or Litchfield.”

  Dina sent an uncertain glance her husband’s way. “I appreciate the sentiment, Violet, but you go on too fast. Your brother feels—”

  “Oh, pooh. Grant need not accompany us if he would rather not. Indeed, we shall do better on our own, for gentlemen never enjoy shopping so much as we ladies do. You will not mind if we leave you behind while we comb through the stores, will you, Grant?” she asked, grinning. “I promise not to overspend on myself or Dina, but when it comes to the baby, I may not be able to control myself.”

  His response effectively erased her grin. “You may shop to your heart’s content and buy whatever you wish for yourself and the babe. Dina, however, will not be spending the Season in Town.”

  “Will not—? Whatever do you mean?” Violet sent an alarmed glance at Dina, who merely shrugged and smiled apologetically.

  “Just what I said,” her brother affirmed. “We have talked it over and agree that she will do better to spend these next months in the clean air of Staffordshire, her home, than in the fogs and dirt of London. That will be far healthier for her and for the babe.”

  Violet stared at him, aghast. “But…what of my Season? Must I spend it in Staffordshire as well?”

  “Nothing quite so heinous as that. We’ll spend a week here, as planned. Then, once we have Dina settled at Ashcombe, I shall take you to Aunt Philomena’s myself. I’ll not be staying, however.”

  “But who will escort me to all of the evening functions?” Violet demanded. “You know full well that Aunt Philomena refuses to be out past nine o’clock, which is just when most parties and performances begin. How am I to make any useful social connections whatever, given her absurdly early schedule?”

  “She loves to boast of firing off her other nieces in style,” Grant reminded her, “so she will no doubt wish to do the same for you. I shall impress upon her the far greater likelihood of your making a match if she takes you about to balls and such. Whether she heeds my advice or not, you’d best adhere to her rules if you don’t want your Season cut short again.”

  Violet blinked back tears as all her hopes and dreams for the coming Season came crashing down about her ears. Determined not to spoil Grant and Dina’s happiness over their lovely news, however, she strove to conceal her disappointment. Taking a deep breath, she lifted her chin and forced a smile.

  “I shall do my best,” she said. “Though I can’t deny I’ll miss having you both with me in Town, I truly am happy for you. But now, we’d best begin changi
ng if we are not to be late for dinner.”

  Grant left them and Dina’s and Violet’s maids were summoned to help them dress. When they were on the point of leaving the chamber to go downstairs, Violet turned impulsively to Dina.

  “If I am to suffer Aunt Philomena’s chaperonage for another Season, I am more determined than ever to enjoy my time in the Shires. Will you help to convince Grant to let me ride in the hunts here? ’Tis something I’ve always longed to do.”

  “I’ll do my best, as you’ve taken our news so well.” Dina gave her a quick hug. “He certainly can’t deny you’re an excellent horsewoman. Far better than I am.”

  Violet thanked her for the compliment, though riding was likely the only physical skill in which she surpassed her tiny sister-in-law. Dina was amazingly adept at such unorthodox pursuits as swimming, fencing and even boxing.

  Returning Dina’s hug and again expressing her joy about the coming child, Violet accompanied her down to the parlor, where several gentlemen rose to greet them.

  “Give you good evening, Mrs. Turpin, Miss Turpin.” Sir Charles Storm, a handsome young man with light brown hair rakishly disordered, swept them a collective bow. “I see your journeys have not impaired your beauty a whit—indeed, rather the reverse.”