A Summer Scandal (Seasons of Romance Book 3)

by Rachel Osborne

  “Quite so!” Edmund agreed, with a grin. He liked assemblies and was pleased by the Grenvilles eagerness to meet Juliet and support their union. It was a reception so unlike that which he had received, and continued to receive, from his Mama that he was poised to invite them to the wedding, if only so he might be guaranteed as warm a reception from his side of the church as he might have from Juliet’s. He turned to his mother, sensing that this would be an opportune moment to gain her agreement, for she was duty-bound, before friends, to be agreeable.

  “You have spoken of little other than the assembly since our trip to town was first mooted, haven’t you, Mama? I know you are so fond of a chance to dance and be amongst friends.”

  “Amongst friends, yes,” Mrs Gale equivocated. “The public assemblies, on the other hand...”

  “Oh, I know they can be a little overcrowded,” Mr Grenville agreed, his booming voice quickly overshadowing Mrs Gale’s dainty protests. “And one is pressed into society with a great swathe of people one might not ordinarily see or speak to, but...” He beamed, his enthusiasm rendering him almost youthful. “It is such jolly good fun, is it not, my dear?”

  Mrs Grenville said nothing, but nodded, smiling indulgently.

  “I think we shall be forced to attend, Mama, do not you think so?” Edmund could not resist pressing his mother to a confirmation, here, surrounded by those she would not countenance disappointing. He had always enjoyed assemblies, be they large or small, and he would enjoy this one all the more with Juliet on his arm. “I know you have so often been disappointed by the simple public assemblies we are forced to join at home. Let us go and see how easily London outshines them!”

  There was a moment of brittle silence when Edmund was sure he could see the gears of his mother’s mind working furiously to fabricate some kind of excuse, anything that might permit her to punish her son for his impudence, whilst not disappointing her friends, but she could summon nothing. The loud chime of a grandfather clock broke the spell, and she fixed a furious glare on her son.

  “Dear me! Is that a quarter-hour gone already? You must forgive us for only a fleeting visit today, Mrs Grenville, Mr Grenville. You know what sons are like, and mine has been intimating all day that he would rather be elsewhere.”

  Edmund’s smile tightened, seeing the game she was playing and finding no immediate way to manoeuvre free. His hosts were most genial, though, and, whilst disappointed to lose their guests so soon, did not seem unduly offended by their swift departure.

  “Until the assembly!” Mr Grenville called, waving them off. “We shall look forward to seeing you there!”

  “AND TO THINK, SHE ACCOMPLISHED all of those things whilst being a wife and a mother!” Juliet fairly floated home after enjoying the lecture with her aunt. She had been able to meet and share a word or two of conversation with Mrs Sinclair, courtesy her aunt’s bravely marching up to introduce them at the moment that Juliet’s courage had failed. Not only that, but several other ladies there had been of especial interest to her. Not one of them would have pleased her mother or sister, for all of them were dressed somewhat shabbily or unfashionably, but Juliet had come home with her imagination enlivened, and her hands itched to write.

  “Ah, Juliet! Here you are. Good afternoon, Sister, did you enjoy your shopping time?”

  “Shopping?” Juliet kissed her father on the cheek but dismissed his question with a derisive snort. “Shopping was the very least of our occupation this afternoon. We went to a lecture by a real, live authoress!”

  “Yes,” Mrs Reed confessed, greeting her brother with an apologetic smile. Shopping was, I confess, merely an excuse to spirit Juliet out of doors and use her for my own nefarious ends. I was afraid, if I confessed my wish to take her to see Mrs Sinclair, you would have prevented the expedition.”

  “Prevented it?” Mr Turner laughed. “Whatever for? She is no purveyor of scandal, is she, this Mrs Sinclair?” He frowned. “I confess I have not read any of her books, but I have heard them remarked upon...”

  “She was wonderful!” Juliet sighed, sinking theatrically into a settee and realising, belatedly, that she had almost smothered her sister. “Oh, Louisa! Why are you sitting here in the way?”

  “I wasn’t in the way,” Louisa countered, tremulously. “You might have looked before sitting on me!”

  Juliet obediently shifted to the side, eyeing her sister with surprise. Louisa’s normally perfect hair was a little unkempt, as if she had tugged her hand through it many times that afternoon, and her face looked splotchy from tears.

  “Is something the matter?” she asked, reaching out to smooth down the worst of the disarray.

  “Nothing!” Louisa squawked, dodging out of her sister’s grasp. She drew in a shaky breath. “I merely do not see the thrill of listening to an old woman drone on about writing all afternoon.”

  “That’s because you were not there,” Mrs Reed said, mildly, sitting in her chair and reaching for her fan. “She spoke eloquently and amusingly. What was that anecdote she shared with us about her friend, the Countess of Marlborough?”

  “Oh, even you shall laugh at this one, Lou,” Juliet began, clearing her throat. Louisa shot her a look, and sniffed tremulously, causing Juliet to lose her enthusiasm for the story.

  “Perhaps I shall wait and share it later when Mama can be with us and hear it too.” She turned to her father. “Is she feeling any better?”

  “A little,” Mr Turner said, with a reassuring smile. “She plans to join us for dinner.”

  “I should hope so!” Mrs Reed remarked, scarcely concealing her disdain for her sister-in-law’s weak constitution. “I have never known such a one for headaches and poor health as you wife...” She was silenced by a warning look from her husband, and said no more, focusing her attention on her fan, for it was a warm day, and their walk home had not been a short one.

  “Well, what have you been about today, Louisa?” Juliet asked, eager to brighten her sister’s mood and knowing, from years of practice, that being allowed to speak about herself and her interests was sure to do it. This time, to her surprise, Luisa’s blue eyes filled once more with tears, and she said nothing. It fell to Mr Turner to offer an answer, which he did, in his usual calming manner.

  “We went for a walk. Your sister was kind enough to accompany me on my daily constitutional, and we took a turn about Regents’ Park, which is as pretty as ever I have seen it, although rather crowded with walkers!”

  Mrs Reed sniffed, launching into a long explanation of why her poor, countrified brother ought to have chosen to visit one of the other parks if he wished to walk without battling crowds and Juliet turned once more to look at her sister. Louisa’s face was downcast, and Juliet reached out to take her hand, squeezing it gently, a silent question. Louisa did not look up at her but wriggled her hand free.

  “I think I shall go and check on Mama,” she announced, her voice trembling as if she fought off still more unshed tears.

  “Let me come with you,” Juliet offered, eager to get to the bottom of whatever had so upset her sister. Louisa let out a long sigh but did not stop her, and together the two girls slipped out of the parlour, pulling the door closed just as Mrs Reed called after them.

  “Do see if she would care to join us for some refreshments, won’t you? I am sure your Mama is quite well enough to walk downstairs and take tea with us...”

  “I am sorry you did not join us today,” Juliet began, trying in vain to know how best to encourage intimacy with her prickliest of sisters. If this were Bess, she should have no problem in managing her. But of her three sisters, Juliet’s relationship with Louisa had always been fraught with difficulty. She drew a breath. “We did pass some very elegant looking places, and I shall need your eye for style if I am to purchase anything at all.” She smiled. “I know how you like to give out advice, and you have always been better than me at appreciating beauty.”

  Louisa sniffed but said nothing.

  “I imagine the flowers
in the park were quite lovely at this time of year. You must tell me which beds you liked best, so I can look out for them.”

  Still nothing and Juliet began to feel a little annoyed. She was trying her best to be a good sister, and offer Louisa a listening ear. If she did not wish to confide in her, then perhaps it was not worth trying further. I do not suppose there is anything so very wrong! Louisa has always made a drama out of every little thing.

  She abandoned the attempt, and it was in silence the two young ladies climbed the last few steps and knocked lightly on the door of Mrs Turner’s room.

  “Come in!” Their mother’s voice was bright but betrayed her tiredness, and Juliet immediately shifted the focus of her concern from her sister to Mrs Turner, who was sitting up in bed, a light blanket pulled over her laps, as she worked on some embroidery.

  “Mama! You are looking better than you did this morning. Pray, come downstairs and join us for tea, won’t you?”

  “That is a very nice idea!” Mrs Turner declared, laying down her sewing and reaching up to tuck a stray curl or two safely in place. “I have been antisocial far too long today. Tell me, dear, how did your shopping trip with Aunt Reed go?” Her tone was neutral, her affection for her daughter and eagerness to hear about the day far outstripping any awkwardness of feeling that might still exist between Mrs Turner and her sister-in-law, even after so many years.

  “We did not go shopping at all!” Juliet confided, swallowing a laugh as she told of her day’s adventures. “It was all a ruse! Do not you think it cunning of Aunt to do so, to ensure that we were able to attend Mrs Sinclair’s lecture?”

  Mrs Turner frowned, her smile dimming a little.

  “You do not mind me having seen her, do you? It was a public lecture, and a great many women were there -” Juliet feared, for a moment, that her mother did not approve of the event, and wondered why, when Mrs Turner had never made any show of disapproving of her writing, she should not wish for her to see a real, live authoress speak in person.

  “Of course I do not mind it,” Mrs Turner said, her smile lifting. “But I do not see why Aunt Reed felt the need to lie about your plans for the day. Anyway, I am sure she had her reasons. Come, girls, let us go downstairs, for the promise of tea has quite revived me!”

  She slid an arm around both of her daughters, and Juliet could not help but notice the way Louisa stiffened at their mother’s touch, moving away from her as they passed through the doorway.

  Chapter Seven

  Louisa tilted her cup this way and that, watching the way the light rippled across the surface of the rapidly-cooling tea she hadn’t drunk and trying to look as if she was interested in what Juliet was saying. She and her aunt had been talking for what felt like an hour, telling and retelling all about the lecture they had been to, what Mrs Sinclair had looked like, sounded like, talked about...

  Stifling a yawn, Louisa lifted the cup to her lips and took the tiniest sip, grimacing as she realised just how cold her tea had become, and placing the cup and saucer down on the table beside her, folding her hands in her lap and praying her posture didn’t betray her boredom.

  “You are very quiet, Luisa!” Aunt Brierley observed, her eyes narrowing as she fixed her gaze on her youngest niece. “Quite a change from the usual, I am sure!” She let out a theatrical sigh. “Please don’t tell me you are becoming decorous and agreeable in your old age. I do so disapprove of young ladies losing their spark, and you, my dear, had plenty!”

  Louisa smiled, pleased to be noticed and complimented in such a way, and even more pleased because their aunt had spoken across Juliet to do so. She was tired of conversing about the lady-author and wished for a change, too.

  “I am quite well, Auntie,” Louisa said, tilting her head and appreciating the bounce of her blonde curls which she knew was becoming.

  “We enjoyed our walk in the park, did not we, Louisa?” Mr Turner said, leaning patting her arm, gently. “I dare say my energetic young daughter would have happily remained out of doors even longer, had I not grown weary and longed for the comforts of home.”

  Louisa’s smile froze, as she recalled the very reason she and her father had hastily returned home. It had not been weariness, either his or hers, but a silent agreement that their jaunt had been rather spoiled by the utter lack of acknowledgement they had received from their friend Mr Weston.

  “Indeed, it seems poor Louisa is disappointed by the mere memory of being forced to return home before her time!” Aunt Brierley was watching, shrewdly, and drawing her own conclusions from the way her niece’s features fell into a pout. “Was there some reason you were so eager to remain in Regents Park, my dear?” Her eyes sparkled with fun. “Perhaps some person....?”

  Louisa flinched, wondering just how apparent her feelings must have been for her aunt to draw such an accurate conclusion.

  “Yes! I think that must be it. All the young folk favour Regents’ Park!” Mrs Brierley clapped her hands. “Tell me, do, who was the handsome stranger who caught your eye? I dare say he was handsome?”

  “There was no stranger, Auntie,” Louisa managed, dropping her gaze to her knees.

  “No, but we did pass a friend,” Mr Turner mused, nursing his chin in his hand. “At least, I thought we did - you recall, dear,” he turned to his wife, his features pinched in a vague smile. “Mr Weston.” He turned to include his sister in the conversation. “A friend of our neighbour - of Edmund’s. He spent the best part of the spring at Northridge and I am not sure an afternoon went by when he did not find some cause to call at our parlour.” His smile fell. “It seems his friendliness does not extend to passing us in the park, though, for, alas, he did not seem to recognise us, did he, Louisa?”

  “Not recognise you?”

  It was Juliet who spoke, her own eyes narrowed in suspicion. She fixed her gaze on Louisa, who sank further into her seat and prayed her expression did not betray her.

  “He was busy, I think, Papa,” Louisa managed, her voice low. “He had company, after all.”

  “I wonder -” Mrs Turner began, but before she could say another word, the butler arrived at the door to the parlour, announcing with a flourish the arrival of a guest.

  “Mr Gale.”

  Louisa let out a breath of relief, pleased that Edmund had arrived and would now distract her aunt, freeing her from scrutiny.

  “Mrs Brierley! And Turners, all.” His face crinkled in a smile and he dropped in a droll little bow, before rising again and holding his hand up in triumph. “I have a proposition!”

  “Oh?” Mrs Brierley chuckled at this effusive show of chivalry and patted the seat next to her. “Come and sit down, you energetic young man, and tell us what has you so excited!”

  “An assembly, my dear Aunt.” He winked at the possessive use of this title, which he had no true claim to and would not have until after he and Juliet were married. It made her blush and giggle, though, and Louisa smiled to see her ageing aunt so unsettled by Edmund’s trademark familiarity and cheer.

  “An assembly?” It was Juliet who questioned him, glancing over at Louisa surprised that it was not she who declared so excitedly of the promised entertainment.

  “Indeed! And we are all to attend!” He fixed a triumphant smile on Louisa as he folded both his arms and his legs and surveyed the room, evidently delighted with himself and with this promised treat. “There, Miss Louisa. Do not complain that nothing exciting ever happens now! I have sent word to Nash to join us, too, so we shall have a jolly old time, all together!”

  Louisa smiled, feeling hope flare in her chest. If there was to be an assembly, and Nash was invited, maybe it truly would be like old times.

  Perhaps he did not mean to ignore us this afternoon, she thought. He surely would not do so at an assembly but would smile and laugh and dance with her precisely as he had done at home. And if he does not... She lifted her chin, feeling a flicker of her old imperiousness return to her. There are bound to be a great deal of other elegant, charming young
gentlemen who will. Who needs an engagement, when I shall have my pick of suitors?

  “AN ASSEMBLY! HOW DELIGHTFUL!” Mrs Reed exclaimed, with a sly look at Nash.

  He sat in his aunt’s grand parlour, turning over the note from Edmund, which had accompanied the notice of the assembly, and a none-too-subtle invitation that Nash and his household must join the festivities and stop hiding away from associations with old friends.

  This last he had not read aloud, certain that his aunt would seize upon the comment and demand its explanation, and because he felt somewhat pricked by his conscience. Hiding away. That was precisely what he was doing, was it not? It was that which had made him shrink back in his seat at the lecture, and avoid being noticed by Juliet and her aunt. It was that that made him entirely ignore Louisa and her father when he passed them in the park, choosing to pretend he had not seen them rather than to stop and greet them as the friends they were. Or had been, he thought, sourly. They could be friends no longer, for his aunt would not abide it, nor could he even conceive of continuing a friendship with Louisa. He must abandon his past hopes and enjoyments and embrace his present and future, the very young lady who sat not three feet away from him, chatting animatedly over the promised evening of dancing and celebration.

  “I do not make a habit of going to the public assemblies, you understand,” his aunt was saying, punctuating each of her words with an embroidery stitch. “Their doors are open to any who should wish to attend, after all...

  Nash rolled his eyes, hiding his face behind his letter to obscure his disdain from the aunt who would be sure to take offence at such a reaction.

  “It is different for you young folk, of course.” She smiled indulgently at Abigail, but her smile died as she looked over at her nephew. “And I understand Nash made a great habit of attending them when he was last in town.”