A Summer Scandal (Seasons of Romance Book 3)

by Rachel Osborne

  Reaching the driveway, Nash paused, chewing on his lip. If he pitched it just right then perhaps a short visit might be enough to stretch her patience another six months or so. Just long enough until...until...

  Nash kicked at a piece of gravel in frustration, before recalling where he stood and hurrying to reassert control over himself, lest he was spied in any way discomforted.

  It is a cruelty to make a man contort himself for the pleasure of others. What must it be like to have wealth enough to make one’s own decision, and not forever be beholden to others for support? He scowled as he crossed the threshold, envying Edmund more than his engagement at that moment. Northridge was a splendid estate and did not even encapsulate the whole of the wealth that rested on his handsome friend’s broad shoulders. He was free to do precisely as he pleased and suffer no consequences...

  “Is that you, Mr Weston?”

  Nash paused, his scowl melting into a smile that was neither kind nor becoming. Perhaps Edmund was not free of all consequences...

  “It is, Mrs Gale!” he called, letting his voice ring with music and merriment.

  “Ah, how well you look!” She greeted him with a smile as he turned the corner into the opulent parlour. He almost shivered, although the room was temperate. The feel of the place was so unlike the comfortable Turners’ that he was not surprised to see Edmund wearing a scowl, and Juliet eyeing the door with a thinly disguised eagerness to escape through it.

  Striding forward as if a long-lost heir to this particular parlour, Nash paused before Mrs Gale’s chair and bowed, stiff and formal but undeniably pleasing to the recipient, who coloured prettily at this display of manners, and waved him to a seat on her left.

  “You were a long time,” Edmund remarked, coolly.

  “Was I?” Nash shrugged a shoulder, with a self-deprecating smile. “I did not mean to be. I fell to talking, I suppose. T’would have been rude to go all that way and not stop a spell and speak to the neighbours.”

  “Yes, Miss Turner said you had called at her house,” Mrs Gale remarked, her gaze flickering to Juliet and back to Nash, deliberately ignoring her son. “They are all well, I trust?”

  “Juliet has just told you they are, Mama,” Edmund remarked, stopped mid-comment by Juliet, who laid a calming hand on his arm.

  “I should like to hear Mr Weston’s opinion, though. Perhaps disaster has befallen them in the hour since I last saw them.” Juliet laughed, evidently attempting to lighten the atmosphere and failing, her laughter trailing off into nothing and an awkward silence settling over the quartet before she spoke again.

  “And were they well? Tell me, had Bess finished her letter yet?”

  “Almost,” Nash offered, pleased to throw a lifeline to Juliet in a way he might not have chosen to do for her beau. He liked Juliet Turner as he was fond of all the Turners and envied Edmund their friendship too, in addition to all his other virtues. “Very busy with it she was, too.”

  In truth, he could recall nothing of the letter nor its writer, for Bess had been too quiet to garner much notice of his even before the surprising news of her engagement to the equally quiet maestro from Castleford.

  Even Mrs Gale could find nothing bad to say about the shy, musical Miss Elizabeth and strove instead to turn the conversation in an entirely new direction by clearing her throat.

  “Mr Weston, I believe a letter arrived for you this afternoon, I do not suppose you have seen it yet.” She inclined her head towards the mantel, and when Nash followed her gaze he saw a folded square wedged neatly beneath an ornate carriage clock. He nodded, but when she did not immediately speak again, realised there would be no easy dismissal of this observation without him acting on it. He stood, crossing the elegant parlour, and snatching up the note. A perfunctory glance at the address identified the sender, although Nash was hardly surprised. He had ignored his aunt’s previous two letters. He was long overdue a third.

  “Won’t you read it?” Mrs Gale’s voice grew low and teasing. “Or, perhaps, you are a keeper of secrets. We shall not enquire -”

  “It is merely a note from my aunt, Mrs Gale,” Nash said, shortly, in hopes of bringing this line of enquiry to a swift close. This answer did nothing but encourage her more, though, for he had forgotten that Mrs Gale and his aunt were a little acquainted.

  “Oh, indeed! How is Mrs Reed? You will be returning to see her before long, I do not doubt.”

  Nash smiled, tightly, deflecting this attention by drawing Edmund back into the fray.

  “I daresay I shall, Madam, when we all return to London. Did Miss Turner succeed in persuading you to fix a date for your journey, Ed?”

  Edmund swallowed a groan and his mother’s eyes narrowed, turning her interrogatory powers on him, and allowing Nash a moment to break the seal of his letter and sweep its contents in a glance, grimacing and refolding the note before sliding it safely into his sleeve and out of sight.

  “You are not eager to go to London?” Mrs Gale demanded. “No, do not pepper me with excuses. If you are determined to marry, you simply must visit London beforehand. There are preparations to be made that can only be done there. And in any case,” she sniffed, dismissing Edmund’s comments before he could make one. “I should like to go to London. I suppose you have not spared a thought for my wishes, though, now that your course is set...”

  “I SHALL MISS YOU SO!”

  Juliet was taking a turn about the Hodges’ parlour with her elder sister as an unfortunate turn in the weather ensured everyone stayed under cover.

  “Miss me! You shall scarcely have the time to miss me!” Maddy laughed. She tweaked one of her sister’s curls good-naturedly. “And it is not as if we are to be parted forever! Your visit to London will be but a short one, and then you shall come back here for the wedding.”

  Juliet nodded, her eyes darting towards one corner of the parlour, where her brother-in-law sat with his father and Mr Turner, their heads bent over a card game. The low rumble of voices betrayed their conversation, and their attention to their cards took a slow second to their discussion.

  “It will be lovely to have another wedding to attend!” Maddy repeated, with a contented sigh. “And to know that you will be making your home so close by!”

  Juliet shot her sister an accusing glance.

  “I do not recall you being so concerned with remaining close by when you were the one getting married!”

  Maddy pursed her lips, but could only remain silent for a moment before dissolving in giggles.

  “Very true. But I have nursed a secret wish to see you and Edmund married for almost as long as I can remember. I am pleased you have finally come to your senses and accepted him! How happy you shall be, tormenting each other from morning and night, as long as you both shall live...ouch!”

  Maddy squealed as Juliet poked her sister sharply in the ribs.

  “I’d think you might let our last meeting pass without resorting to teasing me!” She pouted but again could maintain the pose for only a moment. “And I should not need to torment Edmund if he would learn to behave himself!”

  “Like you?” Maddy shook her head, smiling at the thought of her harum-scarum sister being forced to take on the role of a respectable society bride. “Perhaps it is best for all concerned that your visit to London will be a short one. You have never been a great one for society, Jules.”

  “Society has never been a great one for me,” Juliet retorted. “If we were permitted to speak as we pleased, to whom we pleased, then things would go far easier. Why must I always be forced to sit with other young ladies who have nothing but air between their ears, discussing the merits of Belgian lace over French? I have a brain, and I shouldn’t be prevented from using it.”

  “As if Edmund has ever succeeded in keeping you from thinking for yourself!” Maddy scoffed. “He has never tried!”

  “He knows better.” Juliet’s tone softened, and she prayed her sister did not notice the warmth that rushed into her cheeks as she thought with fo
ndness of her fiancé. Edmund was good, far more than she deserved in a husband. She had tried to persuade him to choose another, but he had been steadfast in his affections, and she knew that they would be happy together, no matter how her sister teased.

  “Now, tell me what you plan to do in London,” Maddy pressed, turning her sister towards the window and stopping to look out at the gardens, which were a little damp and overcast from the rain, but still sparklingly green. “You shall purchase your trousseau of course.”

  “Yes.” Juliet rolled her eyes. “And oh, how Mama rejoices over it. She has insisted upon Louisa coming with us, for, and I quote, I wish to have one daughter with taste to assist me!” Juliet frowned. “I dread to think how they shall primp and preen and dress me up for the occasion. Edmund shall hardly recognise me!”

  “I shall put a stop to too much preening,” Maddy promised, with a solemn smile. “You shall look like my Juliet and none other, although the very best version of yourself, in honour of the day. The wedding will be at Northridge?”

  “Mmm-hmmm.” Juliet nodded, although she could not be entirely sure of her answer. She knew that Edmund cared little where they were married, and in all honesty neither did she. It was Mrs Gale who was the sticking point. She refused to be drawn on the matter of the wedding itself, and Juliet nursed a secret suspicion that she still hoped it would be somehow delayed, or disposed of entirely. She rubbed at an invisible spot of ink on her fingertip, wondering if this trip to London could spell disaster for the happy couple. Edmund knew her and loved her, she did not deny that, but she was also firmly part of his life at home. He had rarely, if ever, seen her in London, amongst his elegant society friends. One glimpse of her there, now, and would Edmund rethink his commitment?

  “The parish church is very pretty too,” Maddy conceded, noticing her sister’s reticence and hoping to overcome it. “And Reverend Worthy will certainly ensure the church is arrayed to its greatest advantage on such a day.” She glanced out of the window and sighed. “Hopefully the weather will comply, too. It is supposed to be summer!”

  “We cannot have sunshine all our days, Maddy, dear!” Mr Hodge remarked, from his corner, betraying that the gentlemen were not quite so engaged in their cards or their conversation as they had appeared to be.

  “Well, Juliet.” Mr Turner stood, shaking hands with his friends and turning towards his daughters with a warm smile. “We had better beat a return to home. Your Mama was quite determined she could spare us for only a short time. Maddy, dear, we shall see you upon our return, which will not be above a week or two.”

  “Give my love to Aunt and Uncle, Papa,” Maddy said, turning her cheek so that her father could press a dry kiss against it. She squeezed Juliet’s hand. “And to Edmund. Tell him you shall make him a trade: for every social function he bids you attend, he must take you to a museum or lecture in return.”

  Juliet’s eyes lit up, for this was the true attraction of London for her. She went because she must, because if she was to marry a gentleman, she must be fitted for the part of lady, but she cared little for feathers and fuss and would gladly eschew them all for the opportunity to explore London’s many cultural delights.

  “Now, that is a fine idea, Maddy!” she exclaimed, brightening at the prospect. “I shall tell him so this evening. Where do you think we ought to begin?”

  Chapter Three

  “Come in, come in! Welcome to London!” Mrs Angelica Brierley’s eyes narrowed as she fixed them on Mr Turner. “Everyone except for you, brother. It has taken far too long for you to bring your delightful family up to town for a visit, and now I see you have brought only half of it!” She feigned disappointment, her heavy features arranged in a pout that she was able to hold for only a moment before dissolving into raucous laughter. “It is a very good job you brought the half that is my favourite!” Laying a conspiratorial arm around Louisa on one side and Juliet on the other, she ushered her two nieces towards a wide settee.

  “You must not tell your sisters I said so, of course,” she confessed, tweaking Louisa’s blonde curls with a sigh. “Your hair! I envy you your golden curls, my dearest Lou -”

  Louisa stiffened slightly. She had not been Lou in well over a year, although it would surely be the height of rudeness to remind her ageing aunt as much. She was saved from saying anything, though, as Mrs Brierley turned abruptly towards Juliet, forsaking Louisa to clasp her elder niece’s hands in both of hers

  “And I wish to hear all about the wedding plans and your handsome beau!” She giggled, as if the presence of young ladies made her young again herself. “Tell me, do your parents care for him?”

  “We do,” Mr Turner said, greeting his brother-in-law with a warm handshake and settling into a seat close to him. Mrs Turner hung back a little, clearly uncertain to which of the two parties she ought to show partiality, and hovering awkwardly between them until Mrs Brierley intervened.

  “Oh, how dull! Sit down, dear, and tell me why you cannot bring yourself to disapprove of him just a little.” She turned back to Juliet and continued speaking before Mrs Turner was able to summon a single word of response. “I do think love needs at least a little opposition to thrive. Too much acceptance leads to a very dreary life. Is he -” She paused, her lips pursing as if she could not quite bring herself to form the word. “Is he dreadfully good, then? There was never any hope for Bess or Maddy making anything other than respectable matches, and I dare say their young gentlemen are perfectly pleasant but dear me! Juliet, I held out rather higher hopes for you. Could you not find yourself an emigre count, a reformed scoundrel, somebody at least a little interesting?”

  “I think Edmund is very interesting,” Juliet said, rising in defence of her boy, for if anyone was to criticise him it should be her, and she would go to the ends of the earth to defend him against another.

  “Edmund is interesting in theory,” Louisa piped up, already tired of being overlooked in favour of Juliet, who, as the bride-to-be on this particular shopping trip, garnered most, if not all, attention. She sniffed, waiting a moment until she could be sure of attracting her aunt’s attention entirely. “It is just that we have known him so long! I feel quite sure we know everything there is to know of him!”

  “Well, that is no good!”

  Juliet sucked in a sharp breath at this and was placated by a haphazard squeeze of her hand from her aunt, who continued to fix her inquisitive, watery eyes on Louisa as she spoke.

  “It is always wise to reserve a little mystery surrounding one’s husband until after you are married. Is that not right, my love?”

  She lifted her voice to address the question to her husband, who harrumphed something that might have been agreement and continued his own whispered conversation with Mr Turner.

  “I think it better one knows what one is letting oneself in for,” Juliet protested. “For mystery, as you call it, might lead to disappointment -”

  “Then again, it might not!” Aunt Brierley countered, with a wink that Louisa determined was solely directed at her. “Very well, I shall not cast aspersions on your young man, Juliet, at least not until I have met him. I trust I will be afforded the chance to meet him, while you are here? My brother did allude to the fact that he would be in London at this time too. I think it entirely above board if he dines with us here, so I might decide whether I think him worthy of my cleverest niece’s affections.”

  Louisa sniffed, wondering what adjective was left to her, if Juliet was the cleverest.

  “And as for you, Louisa,” Aunt Brierley continued, with a knowing smile. “Don’t fret, I shall not press you for details now, in such company as this, but do not think I shall forego quizzing you on your own romantic attachments...ah, yes! I spy a tiny hint of a blush on those apple cheeks of yours. I was quite persuaded that my prettiest niece should have at least half a dozen suitors. Tell me, please, there is at least one amongst those who we may consider at least a little mysterious.”

  Louisa pursed her lips, not quite a
ble to keep her smile in check. Was Nash Weston mysterious? He was certainly charming, witty and fun in a way that Edmund could be, but with the added attraction of not having known Louisa all her life and sliding all too easily into the role of overbearing brother, which she did not care for. Nash never once strayed from the pigeon-hole of companion, and an admiring one at that. But could she consider him a suitor?

  “My dear, do you plan to take tea, or is it your intention to deploy starvation as an interrogation technique?” Colonel Brierley asked, his tone dry and the merest hint of a sparkle in his grey eyes betraying his teasing.

  “Tea!” Aunt Brierley clapped her hands. “Indeed, yes. Let us have tea. I have always found the sharing of secrets far more enjoyable in the presence of refreshments...”

  “I HAVE MISSED THIS house!” Mrs Gale mused, stalking the corridors of the Gale’s elegant London home ahead of her son.

  “Well, it has been here all along and open to you, Mama, should you have chosen to visit.”

  His mother’s continued iciness towards him tried Edmund’s patience, and he seemed to notice it more now, in the absence of his friend, than less. He had thought, with Nash gone, it would afford mother and son some opportunity to talk, to have the argument that had been brewing ever since Mrs Gale first suspected Edmund’s intent to propose to Juliet. She had first tried to sway him from his course by way of persuasion and when that had failed, had resorted to innumerable other minor forms of manipulation that would have worked rather better on the elder Mr Gale, had he still lived, than they ever had on her son.