Scandal's Virgin

by Louise Allen

  ‘Yes, thank you, Darke.’ Avery sat back in the chair and allowed the nervous valet to complete the shave. Laura. He had thought himself armoured against her—it seemed his nerves were not as steady as he had thought.

  *

  Avery went down for breakfast with a dressing on his throat under his neckcloth and an expression of complete blandness on his face. The breakfast parlour was almost full of house guests all eating very, very slowly in the hope of catching the scandalous lovers when they came down.

  He smiled amiably, returned mumbled Good mornings with studied calm and sat down. ‘Something of everything,’ he said to the footman. ‘And coffee.’

  ‘You have a good appetite this morning, Falconer,’ Simonson said and then blushed when two ladies giggled and several gentlemen cleared their throats noisily.

  Avery regarded him steadily for a moment. ‘Indeed I have. This excellent country air, I imagine.’

  Lady Birtwell entered and the men got to their feet as she cast a repressive glance around the table and announced, ‘The carriages will be at the front door at ten for morning service. For those who wish to walk, it takes twenty minutes and one of the footmen will direct you.’

  From the expressions around the table it was obvious that the fact this was Sunday had escaped almost everyone, swept up in the delicious scandal bubbling in their midst. Avery accepted a plate of eggs, bacon, sausage and kidneys and made himself eat. He could not recall ever being so purely angry.

  There had been fury mixed with grief and guilt over Piers’s death, he had been more than annoyed when he discovered Laura Campion in London and realised what she was doing, but now he was conscious of little else but a desire to shake her until her sharp white teeth rattled in her head. It did not help that some of the anger was directed against himself.

  He made himself converse with his neighbours on topics that were suitable for a Sunday which, eliminating horse racing, royal scandal, the latest crim. con. cases in the courts and most plays, none of which would have been approved by their hostess, rather restricted discussion.

  There was a desultory exchange underway about the death of an ancient royal cousin and whether court mourning would be decreed when the door opened and Laura came in, leaning heavily on the arm of one of the footmen. The gentlemen rose to their feet and then sat again when she took her place, reminding Avery of a flock of lapwings, alarmed at a passing hawk, rising off a ploughed field and then settling back.

  ‘Good morning,’ she said generally, then, ‘Tea and toast, please,’ to the footman.

  ‘You are very pale this morning, Lady Laura,’ Lady Amelia said with sweet smile. Avery regarded her with dislike. How the blazes had he thought this sharp-tongued cat might have made a suitable wife? Laura’s judgement had been quite correct.

  ‘My ankle is very painful,’ Laura said. ‘How kind of you to be so concerned.’

  Avery almost smiled before he recalled how furious he was with her. The wretched woman looked, pallor aside, completely calm. Actress, he thought. No shame, not an iota.

  The room had gone very quiet except for the scrape of knives on plates and the rattle of cups in saucers. The other guests did not appear to know where to look—at him, at Laura or at their plates. What did they expect—that he was going to fall to his knees at her side and ask for her hand? Well, he might as well give them something to twitter about.

  ‘With your injury I imagine you would wish to drive to church, Lady Laura.’

  All eyes moved to her. ‘Certainly I will not be able to walk,’ she agreed and took a sip of tea. Over the rim of the cup her eyes met his, brown, unreadable. Last night he could have sworn he could see into her soul. Last night he had believed he could love what he would find there.

  ‘Then perhaps I may take you in my phaeton? It is not a high-perch one, so I imagine you will find it easy enough.’

  ‘How very kind, Lord Wykeham. That would be delightful.’

  Not a blush, not a moment’s hesitation, the hussy. ‘Excellent. It will be at the door for ten.’ He would drive her to church and make only the most banal conversation. He would sit next to her in the pew and find the hymns for her. He would behave impeccably until her nerves were as tight as a catgut violin string and then he would drive her into the depths of the park and…settle this matter.

  Chapter Sixteen

  They think I am brazen and immoral, Laura thought, watching the avid faces around the breakfast table. Only a few of the guests had the decency to make conversation. Lady Birtwell seemed frozen and Avery, damn him, looked like a cobra waiting to strike.

  When was he going to say something? It was obvious he wanted to torture her with suspense, because he could hardly propose to her in the phaeton with Alice there. It was beginning to dawn on her that Avery Falconer had reserves of self-control that made her own seem like those of an hysteric.

  *

  Laura came down for church in a sombre deep-brown pelisse over an amber gown with a new French bonnet.

  ‘Put your veil down,’ Mab whispered as she helped Laura descend the stairs.

  ‘I am not going to hide from them,’ she murmured, then raised her voice. ‘What a charming bonnet, Lady Amelia. So harmonious with your complexion.’

  The bonnet was green silk. Miss Gladman tittered, Lady Amelia showed her teeth in what might have been taken for a smile. ‘And yours is delightful, too. I always think fawn is so flattering with an older skin.’

  ‘Very true,’ Laura agreed warmly. She moved closer and added, low-voiced, ‘And one of the benefits of passing years, as you will inevitably discover, Lady Amelia, is the awareness of the danger of making gestures which, however satisfying they may be for a moment, actually work against one in the end. All that effort to attach a certain gentleman, thrown away in one moment of spite. Oh dear.’ She smiled. ‘Look, Mab, Lord Wykeham has just arrived in his carriage. Help me to the door, if you please.’

  And not a moment too soon, she thought as she heard the sharp hiss of indrawn breath and saw Lady Amelia’s gloved fingers turn to claws on her prayer book.

  The tiger was at the horses’ heads and Avery stood waiting for her with Alice perched up on the seat. There would be no room for Mab.

  ‘Allow me, Lady Laura.’ He put a hand either side of her waist and lifted her up to sit beside Alice, then walked to the other side, climbed up and took the reins. The tiger ran round and scrambled up behind.

  ‘Good morning, Lady Laura.’ Alice, bandbox-neat and clutching her prayer book, peeped up at Laura from under her bonnet brim. ‘Are you safe now?’ she whispered. ‘From the bad man?’

  ‘I hope so,’ Laura whispered back.

  Alice slipped her hand into Laura’s and gave it a squeeze. ‘Papa will protect you,’ she said confidently. ‘Are you having a lovely time? I am.’

  ‘Do you get on well with the other children?’ Laura asked, conscious of Avery’s silent figure looming on the other side.

  ‘Oh, yes. Tommy Atterbury was horrid because I do not have a mama, but I said I would rather not, if mine dressed me up in such a silly way. His mother makes him wear a velvet suit with a floppy bow at the neck and he has ringlets, you know. Anyway, the others all laughed at him and Priscilla Herrick said I was a good sport and they’ve all been very nice.’

  Laura could feel her lips twitching into a smile and bit her lips until she could answer with a straight face. ‘That was very quick-witted of you, Alice. Well done.’ Given Lady Atterbury’s own appalling dress sense poor Tommy’s outfit was no surprise at all.

  She glanced sideways and found Avery looking at her. ‘I can’t be with her all the time,’ he remarked mildly.

  ‘Of course not. Self-defence is important. No doubt Alice has learned her quick wit from you.’

  ‘And the sharp edge of her tongue is doubtless inherited.’ His eyes were on the road again, fixed between the heads of the pair of handsome greys he was driving.

  ‘Attack is often the best form of defence,’ L
aura remarked. ‘Especially for a woman. We have fewer natural weapons.’

  ‘I would beg leave to disagree,’ Avery remarked, looping his reins as he guided the pair down the lane to the church. ‘Men are constrained by honour from retaliating.’

  ‘Given their natural superiority of strength and the unfair advantages law and society give them over women there has to be a balance somewhere.’ With Alice listening Laura struggled to keep her tone light and free from the anger she felt. Honour! What a hypocrite he was.

  ‘Papa, may I have the money for the collection plate?’ Alice asked, cheerfully unaware of the battle raging over her head.

  ‘When we get down, sweetheart.’ Avery reined in and waited for the tiger to jump down before he descended and swung Alice to the ground. ‘Allow me, Lady Laura. I trust the ride did not jolt your ankle.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Laura took his arm and limped into the church. Eyes followed their path down the aisle towards a box pew whose door was held open by one of Lady Birtwell’s footmen. ‘Not that one. I will sit there, with Lady Atterbury,’ Laura said, recognising the towering confection that her ladyship considered suitable as a church bonnet.

  ‘I imagine Lady Birtwell has given instructions on who is to sit where.’ Avery continued down the aisle, her hand trapped against his side.

  ‘But we look like a family group,’ Laura hissed.

  ‘And?’ Avery let Alice go in first, then ushered Laura through. ‘That is your aim, is it not?’

  ‘But not yet,’ she hissed. Without creating a scene there was little she could do except sit down on the embroidered pew cushion. Laura leaned forward to place her prayer book on the shelf and said, ‘I would prefer to be asked first.’

  ‘You have already done the asking,’ Avery remarked. He picked up a hymn book, consulted the numbers on the board and rifled through until he found the first before placing it before Laura. ‘I am merely trying to exhibit some dignity by not screaming and thrashing about in the trap you believe you have sprung.’

  To her horror her eyes began to sting. Laura dropped to her knees on the hassock and buried her face in her hands until she got the urge to cry under control.

  The congregation came to their feet and Avery put a hand under her elbow to hoist her up. ‘Or do you propose to remain there, praying for forgiveness?’

  Laura ignored him, sat down and remained seated through the entire service. She helped Alice with her hymn book, moved her lips as though she was singing and fought her temper and her fear.

  Finally the vicar and choir processed out and the congregation gathered their possessions and began to file down the aisle towards the south door. Laura had no idea what she said to the vicar as they left, although she must have said something reasonably coherent because he smiled and shook hands and no one seemed shocked.

  Avery waited for his phaeton. ‘Gregg, take Miss Alice to Miss Blackstone, please. If she has already left, then walk Miss Alice back to the house.’

  With a sinking sense of helplessness Laura allowed herself to be helped into the seat and waved to Alice with the best imitation of cheerfulness she could manage. Avery got in, took the reins and sent the greys off at a brisk trot in the opposite direction to the house.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To hell in a hand basket, I imagine.’ Avery turned into a lane and drove on until it widened into a little meadow beside a stream. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the brook plashed cheerfully amongst its stones. An exquisite spot for a proposal, Laura thought, wondering if Avery’s sense of irony had led him to select it for that reason.

  He pulled off onto the grass, stuck the whip in its holder and tied the reins around the handle. ‘I have to give you full marks for tactics, my sweet.’ The endearment was like a slap in the face. ‘The slipper on the floor outside my door was masterly.’ She did not trouble to deny it had been deliberate, but concentrated on aligning the markers in her prayer book as though the fate of nations depended on their straightness. ‘And as for your performance in bed, why, that was positively professional. Anyone would have thought you were actually enjoying yourself.’

  The book fell to the floor of the carriage, the markers blew away in the breeze that did nothing to cool her burning cheeks. ‘I was not pretending and neither were you. You know there is something between us. You said as much back in the village after we first met. Desire.’

  ‘I am impressed by your ability to separate your emotions from your passions, then.’ Avery looked down at his hand, opened his clenched fist and began to strip off his gloves. Laura saw one had split along the seam. ‘The general wisdom is that it takes a kick in the groin or a bucket of cold water over the head to stop a man performing, but that ladies are far more sensitive. I doubt I could have lost myself in the moment quite as thoroughly if I was engaged in such a masterpiece of deceit at the same time.’

  ‘You drove me to it.’ She turned her shoulder to him. If she could just spring down from the carriage, confront him face-to-face instead of being forced to sit passively next to him. If only she had the courage to tell him she loved him. ‘If you had not forbidden me any access to Alice, I would have been content, but you had to take her from me utterly. Utterly. How could you be so cruel?’

  ‘Well, you have got what you wanted, for I doubt any respectable woman is going to accept an offer from me now, with this on top of the prejudice about Alice’s birth.’

  She had to be certain. Laura swivelled on the seat to look at him. Avery had leaned forward, rested his forearms on his long thighs and was staring at his clasped hands. ‘You…you will marry me?’

  He looked up at that and his lips curved into a smile that chilled her to the marrow. So must a master swordsman look when he was about to run through some hapless opponent. ‘But of course.’

  ‘And we will live together, with Alice? Be a family?’

  ‘Of course,’ he repeated. ‘Your powers of acting are established and you will find mine are almost as good. Alice will not be affected by any household rift. As for when we are alone, my dear, we will keep separate suites. I will come to you when I wish to get you with child, for as long as it takes, and, how shall I put this…doing only what it takes. I think I will settle for the conventional heir and a spare. You need not fear my demands will be onerous.’

  The ice congealed around her heart so she could almost hear it cracking. ‘I imagine your mistress will be glad to have so much of your company, then,’ Laura said. She could almost feel pleasure that she sounded so indifferent.

  ‘I keep my vows,’ Avery said, and now she could hear the anger beneath the even, slightly mocking tone. ‘I have no mistress now, nor will I take one. You may be sure I will be faithful, my dear.’

  ‘So you expect us both to suffer?’

  ‘Suffer?’ He shrugged. ‘Sexual release is a mechanical matter, I do not expect to experience any pain of deprivation.’

  ‘But we could have had so much more,’ Laura flung at him and took hold of his lapels, shook him, desperate to crack the mocking facade.

  ‘We could have had,’ Avery agreed. ‘You have ensured we never will.’

  When her hands dropped away from his coat he dug in his pocket and produced a small box. ‘You see, I came prepared. Think of the pleasure of displaying this to Lady Amelia and her friends.’ The square-cut diamond glittered in the sunlight. Beautiful, cold, expensive.

  ‘Thank you,’ Laura said steadily as she drew off her left glove and held out her hand. ‘I must obviously take my pleasures where I may. You can be sure I will gloat in the most ladylike manner.’

  He said nothing, but took her hand in his and slid the ring onto her finger. It was a perfect fit. Laura looked at the arrogant, masculine, beautiful face and did not flinch when he raised his eyes and met her gaze. I love you, she thought. I would have shown you that love, heart and soul.

  Avery’s eyes narrowed as if he saw something in her face, then he turned away with a slight shake of his head
. He pulled on his ruined gloves, unwound the reins and clicked his tongue at the horses.

  Laura kept her eyes on his profile and felt the ice crack even further until the pain told her everything she needed to know. It is too late. What have I done?

  *

  She had her composure intact when they returned to the house. She smiled and thanked Avery prettily for the lovely drive, she laughed gaily at her own clumsiness as she hobbled up the front steps on his arm, she lowered her lashes demurely when she saw her hostess approaching and let her see the great diamond on her finger.

  The reaction was most gratifying. Or it would have been if all she cared about was securing a husband and suppressing gossip. The sideways looks, the sharply indrawn breaths, the tutting disapproval, all vanished as if they had never been. Lady Laura Campion had secured the hand of a most eligible nobleman and all was as it should be.

  Even the young ladies who had hoped to receive a proposal from Avery and who had sniggered with horrified delight over her disgrace that morning had the sense to hide their chagrin now. Lady Wykeham was going to be a power in society and they had no intention of earning her enmity now.

  Laura could only feel relief at the change, although she gave no sign of her feelings about their hypocrisy. After all, she was the greatest hypocrite there. She showed off her ring, feigned modest delight, fluttered her eyelashes at Avery when he was not looking at her and did everything expected of her other than summon up a blush.

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed, dabbing at her dry eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief. ‘It is so sad my parents are not here to share my happiness. No, I have no idea where we will be married. I will leave that decision to Lord Wykeham.’

  ‘St George’s, Hanover Square,’ Avery said, strolling up to the tea table in time to hear her. ‘I intend to stay at the town house for the remainder of the Season and I can see no reason to delay the ceremony, can you, my dear?’ His look of polite enquiry dared anyone to so much as think an early date might be a necessity, not a matter of choice. ‘Have you finished your tea, Laura? I think it time we shared our news with my daughter.’