by Tarah Scott
Brazen
The Marriage Maker
Book Sixteen
Daughters of Scandal
Tarah Scott
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Epilogue
This is a Scarsdale Publishing Scarsdale Voices romance and is part of The Marriage Maker series written by Tarah Scott and Sue-Ellen Welfonder.
Brazen The Marriage Maker Book Sixteen: Daughters of Scandal
Copyright © 2018 by Tarah Scott
All rights reserved
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design: Dreams2Media
Cover Art: Period Images
Editor: Casey Yager
SP
Chapter One
Mia Allerton had never considered herself a gambling woman. But then, until fourteen months ago, she hadn’t realized that every day of her twenty-three years had been a huge gamble. Their current gamble proved they’d learned nothing from past mistakes, though she hoped she’d be proven wrong.
Mia stood anxiously alongside her aunt in a semi-private corner of the ballroom and watched her sister dance. Thankfully, the orchestra played a minuet. For all Angeline’s grace, she wasn’t a good dancer. The minuet, however, with its simple steps and liberal dose of curtsies—no one curtsied more prettily than Angeline—was manageable.
Angeline’s dance partner, Mr. Joseph Hastings, the second son of a well-to-do baron, was a fine young gentleman, and Angeline smiled up at him with more enthusiasm than she had shown any other gentleman that evening. He was the third gentleman that night to look at Angeline with adoration, so that Mia dared hope their plan to secure a husband for her sister might actually work.
Guilt niggled. They didn’t plan on lying. Not really.
From the corner of her eye, Mia caught sight of a young couple as they passed through the open balcony doors to her right and disappeared into the night. She longed for a stroll in the garden. The small ballroom had grown terribly stuffy. Perhaps when Angeline started her next dance, she would escape for a breath of cool evening air.
Aunt Leana accepted champagne from a passing waiter. When he left earshot, she leaned close and whispered, “I do believe Mr. Hastings is more smitten with Angeline than even Mr. Lorne. He simply cannot take his eyes off her. He will do nicely, don’t you agree?”
“He does seem perfect,” Mia replied.
Aunt Leana looked at her. “Cease worrying, Mia. Any gentleman would be lucky to have Angeline as a wife. We are merely ensuring that Society doesn’t interfere with true love.”
Mia glanced at her aunt. “True love? Is that not a bit much?”
Her aunt lifted her chin. “Not at all. Angeline’s husband will adore her. In fact, he will thank us for not telling him the truth until they are married. Are you certain Joshua will not help us? He could easily put the thought in Mr. Hasting’s head that Angeline has three other suitors, any of whom will surely whisk her away any hour now.”
“We have discussed this, Aunt. If you make the mistake of telling Joshua our plans to marry Angeline off in this manner, he will likely lock us in our rooms—and he’s large enough to do just that.” This last year, her younger brother had grown several inches, and his shoulders had broadened.
“You’re right, of course,” Aunt Leana said. “I am simply anxious to see Angeline safely wed before… well, you know. If tonight is any indication, one of the young men she has met will be so overcome with passion that he will talk Angeline into eloping.”
Mia should tell her aunt how wrong she was to hope for such a thing, but Mia prayed for the very same scenario. Thus far, their father’s crime had appeared as a small footnote in the papers. But if the wrong person learned that Viscount Ardsley presently served a five-year prison sentence for theft, and began discussing the crime in local circles, no respectable man would come near Angeline. Just as bad, if they lost Kaerndal Castle to creditors, it would be impossible to hide their fallen status from the world. Mia shuddered to think of Angeline relegated to life as the wife of a country squire. Even that might be out of her reach if her father’s imprisonment became well known.
“William Graham Allerton should be ashamed of himself,” Aunt Leana muttered.
Mia had heard the same lament from her aunt since their father’s arrest.
“It is bad enough he spent the last twenty years chasing after every skirt in Scotland, but to steal from a duke’s wife when we had no need of money.”
“Not really twenty years, Aunt.” Mia nodded at a passing couple and lowered her voice. “You said Father was loyal to my mother’s memory for nearly five years. That means he’s been a cad for only fifteen years.”
Leana shot her a narrow-eyed look of mild irritation. “It is his fault you never married.”
Mia blinked in surprise. “Blaming him for my spinsterhood is going a bit too far, do you not think?”
“Not at all. Most respectable gentlemen do not want a rake for a father-in-law.”
“ ‘Tis more likely no one loved me well enough to overlook his reputation,” Mia said.
Aunt Leana sniffed. “Fools, every last one of them.”
Mia gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I love you.” Mia returned her attention to her sister.
Angeline lifted her skirt and stepped in time with the music—almost—and smiled up at Mr. Hastings.
“She really is beautiful,” Leana said.
To say Angeline was beautiful was like saying the sun was hot. Where Mia had inherited her father’s fair hair and pale blue eyes, Angeline had their mother’s raven hair and emerald green eyes, along with her willowy figure. Mia had inherited the fuller figure of Aunt Leana, along with four more inches to her height than Angeline. Thankfully, it wasn’t Mia who needed to marry.
“I see Mrs. Penton,” Aunt Leana said. “I had better say hello and catch up on the latest gossip.”
Mia knew she meant make sure no one is gossiping about us.
Mia glanced in the direction Aunt Leana stared, at a rotund woman who sat near a table filled with sweetmeats. Mrs. Penton nibbled on a pastry while listening intently to something Lady Jessica said. Mia tensed. Were they talking about Father?
“I will return,” her aunt said, and started toward the women.
Mia nodded. The minuet would soon end and Angeline’s next partner would come for her. Thankfully, their Aunt Donella, who had married a wealthy shipping baron, had agreed to introduce Angeline into Society. Their mother’s sister had, at first, refused for fear news of her brother-in-law’s disgrace would reach her circle. But familial obligation won out and she planned three parties for Angeline to attend.
The music stopped and Mr. Hastings escorted Angeline to Mia.
He bowed. “Thank you for the dance, my lady.”
“You are very gallant,” Angeline said.
Mr. Hastings hesitated, clearly unwilling to relinquish his time with Angeline. Aunt Leana was right. The young man truly was smitten. “Perhaps a little later, I might fetch you a refreshment, my lady?” His question was so full of hope, Mia half expected him to drop to one knee and beg her hand in marriage that very moment
Angeline smiled. “That would be lovely, sir.”
His expression brightened. He bowed again, then departed.
“He is quite a gentleman,” Mia said in a nonchalant voice.
Angeline gave her a knowing look. “He isn’t half as handsome as George, and not as intelligent.”
“Angeline, you promised—”
“To dance with many gentlemen at Aunt Donella’s parties,” she interrupted. “I did not promise to stop loving George.”
“You promised to give other gentlemen a chance.”
Angeline laughed. “Not so. You begged me to give other gentlemen a chance. If one happens to catch my fancy, then you have accomplished your goal.”
Mia grasped her sister’s hands. “Angeline, I simply—”
“Want what’s best for me,” Angeline finished for her. “I know.”
“George is so young,” Mia said. “His only prospect is the navy. With Father gone, you will not have the dowry and yearly income we anticipated.”
“Oh dear,” Angeline said. “Look at Joshua.”
Mia looked in the direction Angeline stared. Their brother Joshua, five years younger than Mia and a year younger than Angeline, stumbled and bumped into a couple to his left.
“Is he drunk?” Angeline asked.
For an instant, Mia feared that might be the case. Since their father’s incarceration, he hadn’t been the easy-going boy he once was, and she had caught glimpses of resentment that bubbled just beneath the surface. Mia breathed a sigh of relief when he straightened and bowed to the couple, clearly making his apologies, then turned and walked toward the open balcony door. Two gentlemen emerged from a hallway behind Joshua. One looked in his direction and elbowed his companion. They started toward her brother.
“That cannot be good,” Angeline said.
Mia agreed. “You have another dance coming up. I will see what is happening with Joshua.”
“Perhaps I should go with you,” Angeline said.
Mia spotted Aunt Donella headed their way. “Aunt Donella is coming to fetch you for your next dance.” Before Angeline could protest, Mia hurried toward their brother.
The men reached Joshua. Each grasped one of his arms and hastened toward the balcony. They passed through the open balcony doors before Mia could reach them. She stood aside for two women entering the ballroom, then hurried onto the balcony and caught sight of them descending the steps into the garden.
She quickened pace and called, “Joshua.”
Her brother glanced over his shoulder. “For God’s sake, Mia, return to the ballroom.”
She ignored him and followed.
“Allerton,” one of the men said under his breath as she neared the steps.
“Mia,” Joshua said, “return to the ballroom this instant.”
She hurried down the steps and stopped beside her brother. “Uncle Kalin is looking for you.” It was a lie, but she couldn’t think of another way to get him to return to the ballroom.
“I will see him later,” Joshua said, and she realized he didn’t intend to introduce her to the two gentlemen. Such rude behavior wasn’t like him.
“I must insist.” Mia grasped the crook of his arm. Thankfully, his manners returned and Joshua winged the arm as she pulled him free of the men’s grasp.
Mia caught the thin-lipped look that passed between the two men. She didn’t care that her presence annoyed them.
“Come along,” she said and, curiosity piqued, she turned halfway back, and said, “If you will excuse us, gentlemen.”
“We have pressing business with your brother,” the dark-haired gentleman replied.
Business with Joshua? What business could they possibly have with a lad of eighteen who had only concluded his first year of university?
“I’m afraid your business will have to wait,” she said.
Mia expected Joshua to balk, but he allowed her to pull him away. They climbed the steps, then crossed the balcony.
Inside the ballroom, she said, “What in the world did those gentlemen want with you?”
He gave her a deprecating look. “Men’s business. No need to fret.” He pulled free of her and strode away.
Mia watched him weave through the crowd. After their father’s arrest, Joshua struggled to take his place as head of the household, but he had no idea how to go about taking care of them. Neither did she, if she were honest. Worse, neither did Aunt Leana.
When their father’s man of affairs told them they had enough money to last no more than a year, they realized that Angeline must marry right away, before their situation became public. Once Angeline secured a good husband, they could sell the estate, Joshua could finish his studies, and with his law degree, could help send their youngest brother to university. Mia and Leana would purchase a small cottage in the country, far away from the dangers of Society.
One day, Joshua would inherit their father’s title as Viscount Ardsley. He would, eventually, be able to attract an heiress on the lookout for a titled husband, even an impoverished viscount. Until then, he had to live the life of a gentleman.
Her heart squeezed. While their father’s crime hadn’t warranted front page news, they weren’t unscathed. Only Sir Stirling James’s intervention prevented Joshua from being expelled from university. Sir Stirling, too, had offered to host a party to introduce Angeline into Society—a house party, no less.
If all went well, in the next month, some young gentleman would fall so madly in love with Angeline that he would beg to marry her. Sir Stirling said he knew a particular gentleman who would make a very good husband.
Chapter Two
Magnus Forbes squatted on the edge of a fallow field and pulled up a weed, careful to keep the roots intact. Dark soil clung to the rootball in small clumps. That was exactly what he’d hoped for. He shook the soil into his hand, then allowed it to sift through his fingers. It fell in dark, moist clumps to the ground. Nothing compared to the feel of moist, rich earth.
He rose and brushed off his hand. “You were right, Stirling. The land is perfect for farming.”
“Do no’ forget the two hundred acres of prime grazing land,” Stirling said.
Magnus surveyed the trees that dotted the hills beyond the even farmland. Today was an unusually bright November day, but even on days when the sun hid behind cloud cover, which so often occurred, this place would be beautiful.
“Ye say there might be more property for sale to the west?” Magnus asked.
Stirling nodded. “I have it on good authority the owners are interesting in selling.”
“Excellent.” He caught sight of a modest stone estate to the east. The L-shaped mansion stood atop a hill that overlooked what would be grazing hills. His chest expanded. “Is that Barkely Hall?”
“Aye,” Stirling replied.
Magnus liked it. He would plant in the eastern valley’s fifty-hectare flatland.
“Shall we look at the house?” Stirling asked.
Magnus nodded, though he’d already made his decision.
* * *
A week later, Magnus turned in bed and opened his eyes. The sun edging over the mountain peaks was visible above the windowsill. He drew in a breath. When was the last time he’d woken to a quiet morning? He grimaced. Maybe never. No servants raced down the hallway, gripping a newspaper filled with news of the Marquess of Thachton’s latest scandal—or the scandal of his son and heir, who attempted to surpass his father’s reputation as a gambler and rake.
Never again would he wake in the wee hours of the morning to the creak of floorboards as h
is father or brother arrived home after a night of carousing, or left the house for a dawn appointment. He wouldn’t have to dodge the women his father and brother had ruined. Well, ruined was unfair. His father did have one rule that he enforced ruthlessly: neither he nor his sons were allowed to ruin a virgin. For that much, Magnus was thankful.
Still, when he traveled about Edinburgh, he was forced to avoid half the ladies in Society. He felt certain that was the very reason his mother currently resided in France. Though, to be fair, she had caused a scandal or two herself. His mother and father’s marriage was not a love match. But that was all too common these days.
Now, however, not only did he not have to worry about encountering any of his family’s paramours, he didn’t have to worry about encountering anyone—including the Society ladies who cared more for his money and handsome features than him.
Magnus glanced at the bill for a prize Arabian stallion that sat on his desk near the window. An image rose of the woman he’d planned to marry, Lady Beatrice, her honey brown hair and eyes to match. By now, she’d received his letter of goodbye, along with the Arabian, and a very personal post script that said, I hope he gives you as much pleasure as I would have.
He would never cease to be amazed at how quickly circumstance could change. Two days before he purchased Barkely Hall, he’d learned that Beatrice had been planning to spend his money. Women liked to spend money. He’d learned that long ago. Though it grated that she’d vocalize her plans to the degree that they reached his ears. The worst part, however, had been her observations on what she called ‘his obvious endowment’ and how she planned to ‘ride him like a wild stallion.’
By the time he reached the age of sixteen, Magnus understood his popularity with women—and he enjoyed it. At sixteen, a woman’s desire to ride him like a wild stallion would have been all he needed. Now, however, at thirty-two years of age, he’d hoped for affection, if not respect. Thankfully, unlike his brother, he wasn’t obligated to wed. The stallion had come at a high price, but not so high as he would have paid had he made the mistake of marrying Beatrice.
