Earl of Scandal (London Lords)

by Gillgannon, Mary

  Christian seated himself beside her on the blue velvet squabs and once more took her hand. His gloved fingers gently squeezed. “I miss driving, but there are other advantages to traveling this way.” In the dim interior, she could not make out his expression, but his voice was husky and beguiling. Before she could think how to answer, he leaned over and kissed her, a slow lingering kiss that left her breathless and trembling.

  “You see,” he said. “We have complete privacy this way.” He nuzzled her neck. His warm breath made her shiver as his lips grazed her earlobe. She felt his teeth nip lightly, then the tantalizing feel of his tongue as he traced the whorl of her ear. Her body was flooded with thick, sweet pleasure. She moaned softly and then gasped at the startling sensation of his tongue in her ear.

  “Do you like that?” he whispered.

  She moaned again in response. She felt as if she were melting, her whole body dissolving. Her nipples were hard, tingling points. Her lower body trembled with weak, helpless longing.

  He kissed her neck again, then gently drew away. Merissa felt the loss profoundly. “If only we had a bit more time,” he said.

  “How far to the party?” she sighed.

  “Not far enough. But perhaps I could have the driver circle the block a few hundred times.”

  Merissa closed her eyes as a hot quivering longing spread down her body. Did he mean to seduce her here in the coach? Heaven help her, but she wanted him to. It would take nothing to strip the sheer silk dress from her body. She wanted to feel his hungry mouth on her breasts, her thighs, on her most intimate flesh.

  “But it would be most ungentlemanly of me to muss your gown.” His voice was tinged with deep regret as he smoothed the front of her pelisse. She could feel the faint pressure of his fingers as they glided over the peaks of her breasts. “I wouldn’t want you to arrive at your first London party looking disheveled and flushed.”

  She inhaled sharply, so aroused she feared she would explode. Curse Christian for his teasing! He knew exactly what he was doing, how to dissolve her will. And he was the one exercising restraint, he—the licentious lord she’d once scorned as depraved. How did he endure it? Her whole body ached with repressed desire.

  She took a deep breath as he rubbed her fingers between his warm hands. “Relax, darling. I’ll take care of you.”

  Darling. His voice was full of promise, hinting at all the carnal delights he could offer her. But it was also touched with an unexpected tenderness. For the first time, Melissa allowed herself to wonder if there might be some truth to Madam Dubonet’s conjectures. Was it possible Christian meant to propose to her?

  Even as socially backwards as she was, she could guess that arriving at a social function alone with Christian would provoke outrageous gossip. Knowing that, she’d half-heartedly asked Charles to come along. He’d expressed dismay at the prospect, assuring her that he found such format events “dashedly dull.” She hadn’t pressed the issue, knowing that if Charles didn’t come, she’d have much more time alone with Christian. And that—disgraceful wanton that she was—was precisely what she yearned for.

  Now, she also considered that Christian’s actions might very well be deliberate. Had he planned this evening out with her in order to announce to the world that he meant to make her his wife?

  The idea thrilled and terrified her. She half wanted to jump out of the coach and run back to her safe, boring life at Whytcliff. But it was already too late. The coach had come to a halt in front of a huge mansion with candles and lamps gleaming in every window.

  ~ ~ ~

  “Lord Bedlington, sir, how delightful to see you again.” The WentfieId butler bowed low as Christian and Merissa entered the classically decorated foyer, complete with huge marble columns and statues of Greek gods. “And you have a young lady with you.”

  “Yes, Hinton. She’s a friend of mine from the country. I would prefer you didn’t announce us. I’d like to slip in quietly if possible.”

  “Of course, my lord. If you’ll come this way.”

  Christian glanced at Merissa as they followed the butler. She looked very ill-at-ease. He didn’t want to put her through the ordeal of being formally announced and having everyone stare as they entered.

  Perhaps he shouldn’t have teased her in the coach. But it had been impossible not to indulge in a bit of love play. She looked so tempting this night, everything he’d imagined since the first time he’d contemplated her done up as a fashionable lady of the ton. She’d put the rest of the women to shame with her freshness, her wood nymph prettiness.

  Yes, everything was going exactly as planned. He’d make certain she had a marvelous time. Tempt her with fabulous delicacies from the Wentfield kitchens, dance every dance with her if she wished, never stray from her side for a moment. Observing his obvious devotion, his friends and acquaintances would treat her with respect and courtesy. She’d realize all he could offer her. Then, at the end of the evening, alone in the coach, he’d propose. Her prickly pride softened and her passionate nature aroused by his kisses, she would say ‘yes.’

  “Christian, dear, how good of you to come.” Lady Wentfield approached, her plump person aglitter with diamonds and egret feathers. She held her hand out for him to kiss. Then her glacial blue eyes focused on Merissa. “And you’ve brought someone. How extraordinary.”

  “Yes. Lady Wentfield, may I make known to you, Miss Merissa Cassell. She is my... ah... friend from the country.”

  Merissa dipped into a graceful curtsy. “A pleasure, madam.”

  Lady Wentfield’s brows rose and she rapped her fan against Christian’s chest. “You worried me for a moment, dear. For a second I thought you meant to introduce Miss Cassell as your fiancée. I vow if you had done so, I would have had to retire immediately, don myself with black crepe and prepare for the end of the world.”

  Christian felt his face tighten. Damn his wretched reputation. It was not going to be easy to convince Merissa of his feelings if everyone kept reminding her of what a hardened rake he was. How should he respond? If he suggested there might be some truth to Lady Wentfield’s first assumption, the gossip would be all through the gathering in no time, He had no desire to force Merissa to endure ceaseless innuendoes about their impending engagement, especially when he hadn’t even proposed yet.

  His difficulties worsened as he spied Diana Fortescue coming towards them. Her outrageousness appeared to have reached new heights. The gown she wore was cut so low her nipples were visible.

  “Christian Faraday, you naughty boy,” she pouted. “You’ve come back to London and haven’t been to call on me once.”

  “I’ve been busy, Diana,” Christian said. He bestowed a meaningful glance on Merissa.

  It was the wrong thing to do. Diana abruptly recognized her competition. Her eyes narrowed and a cruel look came over her face. “What, still wasting your time with plain, stupid country misses. What’s her secret, Christian? Do family interests require you to endure her company for some reason?”

  Christian felt Merissa stiffen beside him and his own anger flared. “You’ve appalling manners, Diana,” he snapped.

  As he turned to guide Merissa away, he heard Diana’s gasp of outrage. She wasn’t used to being cut. A sense of foreboding came over Christian. Diana was a bad enemy to make. But what else could he do? It was either insult her or allow Merissa to be insulted.

  He leaned close to whisper in Merissa’s ear. “They aren’t all like that, I assure you. Some ladies of the ton actually live up to the term.”

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Merissa sounded as if she were gritting her teeth. Good. The London crowd would respect her for her stubborn spirit.

  “Let me get you some raffia,” he suggested. “And something to eat.”

  They sampled the offerings on the buffet tables, and Christian enjoyed Merissa’s wide-eyed delight with the various delicacies. Then, as the orchestra began to warm up, he guided her toward the dance floor. Along the way, he met several acquaintance
s, and introduced Merissa simply as “Miss Cassell from Derbyshire.” There was no mistaking the assessing gazes the women gave Merissa, nor the astonished looks of his male friends. It had been so many years since he spent any time in one lady’s company that everyone guessed Merissa was someone special.

  Then they waltzed together, gliding over the polished dance floor as the hundreds of candles in the huge chandelier above them surrounded them in twinkling, starry light. Christian knew a deep happiness. His beloved’s face was flushed with pleasure. Her body felt lithe and alive in his arms. The night seemed enchanted, and his heart swelled to bursting. Gone was the jaded cynical fellow he’d been only a few weeks before.

  Good riddance, Christian thought. I’m a new man. A man with purpose and dreams. And he owed it all to Merissa.

  As the strains of the waltz trailed off, he drew both of Melissa’s hands into his and gazed into her lovely blue-gray eyes. Now, a voice inside him whispered, ask her now.

  The moment shattered as someone came up behind him and touched his arm. He turned to see who had accosted him. Honoria Averill waited behind him, her expression unreadable. “Christian,” she said, “I must speak to you.”

  His heart sinking, he nodded. “Give me a moment. I’ll meet you in the drawing room.”

  He turned back to Merissa. “I’m sorry, but there is something I must do. Let me take you back to the refreshment table. I promise I won’t be long.”

  He started to guide her out of the ballroom. On the way he spied his Aunt Agnes and her two daughters seated nearby. Phoebe and Felicity had just barely come out. Likely, this was their first ball. They would make very respectable company for Merissa.

  “Auntie, dear.” Christian bowed low over his aunt’s beringed fingers. “What a delight to see you.” He smiled at his young cousins and kissed the hands of each of them in turn, making them giggle. “You’ve both grown up to be charming young ladies.” He turned back to Merissa and drew her forward. “Merissa, this is Lady Agnes, my aunt, and her daughters, Phoebe and Felicity. Auntie, girls, let me introduce you to my friend Merissa Cassell from Derlingham. This is her first visit to London. I know you’ll make her welcome.”

  He gave Merissa a quick kiss on the cheek. “Trust me, darling. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  Merissa stared at the two fresh-faced young girls, and they stared back. Lady Agnes broke the uncomfortable silence. “Well, my dear, it seems Christian is up to his old tricks. He’s always been a gadabout. Tell me, where did you meet him?”

  “Near Redding, in Derlingham. That’s where I live. Chri... Lord Bedlington...” Merissa hesitated, wondering how she was supposed to address Christian under the circumstances. “His rig broke down and he ended up staying the night with my family.”

  “And exactly who are your family?” Lady Agnes asked, a hint of haughtiness in her voice.

  “My father is rector at Whytcliff Church.”

  She saw the disappointment register in Lady Agnes’s eyes. What a pity, her gaze said plainly. She’s nobody.

  One of her daughters spoke in a light, piping voice. “What are you doing in London, Merissa? Are you also coming out this season?”

  “No, not exactly. I’m staying at Lord Bedlington’s... with my brother. It’s a very long story, I’m afraid.”

  Merissa cast a despairing glance in the direction Christian had disappeared, obviously in search of the stunning redhead. The tale of her and Christian was a very long story, but she had an awful feeling that she was going to have more than adequate time to tell it before he returned.

  ~ ~ ~

  Christian found Honoria in the drawing room and motioned her away from the cluster of guests gathered to watch a young woman play the pianoforte. As soon as they were out of earshot of the others, she clutched at his jacket. “Christian, you have to help me. Anthony’s found out about us and he’s being horrible! He even threatened to divorce me!”

  Christian’s heart sank. With so many weeks passed, he’d hoped that the scandal would die down. “You have to talk to him!” Honoria persisted. “Convince him that it wasn’t my fault.”

  Except that it was, a part of Christian thought with bitterness. Damn! He didn’t need this, not now. Not when he was on the verge of convincing Merissa that he was a man worth marrying. “Why didn’t you contact me before this?” he asked. “It’s been some weeks since we... that night.”

  “No one knew where you’d gone. It was only when I ran into Diana and found out that you were in Derlingham that I had any notion of how I might reach you.”

  Honoria’s mention of Diana made Christian uneasy. “How did Anthony find out? Did another guest at the party tell him we were together?”

  “It was that wretched chambermaid! I’ve turned her out without a reference, but the damage was done. Anthony’s livid. He swears he’s going to make me pay. You have to talk to him, make him understand. Please, Christian.” Honoria’s brown eyes fixed on him imploringly.

  Christian sighed. What the devil was he going to say to Anthony? I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize your wife without her clothes on?

  “All right, I’ll speak to him,” he said resignedly. “Is he here tonight?”

  Honoria nodded. “He’s in the card room.”

  Christian left the drawing room with Honoria a few steps behind. He’d do his duty, but first he would return to the ballroom and check on Merissa.

  He’d barely reached the entrance to the cavernous room when Honoria came up behind him. “Thank you, Christian,” she whispered in his ear. “You’re such a darling.” She blew him a kiss and then glided off.

  Christian went rigid as he glanced across the room and saw Merissa staring directly at him. He started towards her, but just as he did so, the waltz ended and the dancers began leaving the dance floor. It took him some time to maneuver his way over to where his aunt and his cousins sat. By then, Merissa was nowhere in sight. “Where has she gone?” he demanded.

  “I must say, I don’t know about Miss Cassell,” his aunt responded. “One moment she was conversing politely, then the next thing I knew, she’d dashed off with scarce a word of farewell.”

  Christian let loose with another sigh of exasperation. Phoebe spoke up shyly. “Well, I like her, Christian. I think she’s ever so much fun. If you marry her, may I come visit sometime?”

  “Don’t be silly, he’s not going to marry someone like her, “Aunt Agnes said.

  Christian fixed his aunt with a fierce expression. “Yes, I am. I damned well am going to marry her.”

  Aunt Agnes gasped. “Such language, Christian.”

  “Your servant, madam.” Christian executed a cursory bow over his aunt’s hand. “Phoebe, Felicity.” He nodded to his cousins and then started back across the dance floor.

  He must find Merissa. Then again, perhaps it would be better if he let her cool off a bit. She couldn’t leave the party without him, and he had this unpleasant business with Anthony to finish.

  ~ ~ ~

  Merissa wandered down the stone pathways of the conservatory. Tears blurred her vision and turned the exotic orchid blossoms into blotches of color against the vivid green. She paused and took a deep breath, fighting for control. At the moment, anger was uppermost among her turbulent emotions. Anger at herself. Coward, she thought. You should have confronted him. Made him explain.

  She turned and looked thoughtfully towards the ballroom. It wasn’t Christian’s fault that horrible, brazen women pursued him. He couldn’t help how handsome he was, how charming. He drew women to him as the lush blooms around her would draw bees if not for the glass ceiling above.

  Her turmoil deepened. She wanted Christian, wanted him with all her heart. But what if the differences between them were simply too great for them to find happiness together? She closed her eyes, thinking of the times when they were alone. How wonderful he made her feel. How alive and exhilarated. She could not give him up. At least, not without a fight.

  Firmly gripping her reticule, Meris
sa marched back towards the ballroom.

  ~ ~ ~

  Christian found Anthony Averill in the card room, engaged in a game of hazard with Sir Edward Tewesbury and two other gentlemen. He caught Anthony’s eye. Anthony said something to a man standing nearby and then rose from the table.

  “Bedlington.” Anthony’s face twisted into a sneer as he approached. “You’ve a lot of nerve.”

  Christian reminded himself that a gentleman always faced the consequences of his actions, no matter how unpleasant those consequences might be. “Honoria asked me to speak to you. She fears that you misunderstood the incident that occurred at your party a few weeks ago.”

  “Oh, yes, the ‘incident.’ You mean when you took my wife to bed.” Anthony spoke loudly enough that several people in the room turned to look. Christian tried to take Anthony’s arm to draw him into a corner. Anthony shook him off. “I’ll be damned if I care who hears us! I don’t give a fig for your reputation! Or my wife’s either!”

  “The thing is, it was all a mistake.” Christian spoke through gritted teeth. “Honoria was wearing a mask. I really didn’t know who she was until it was too late.”

  “Oh, indeed, I suppose you mean to tell me that she wore the mask the entire night, the entire time you were—”

  “Of course not. I mean, I really don’t know. For Christsake, Anthony, I was utterly foxed!”

  Anthony smiled tightly. “And I suppose that excuses it. You didn’t know what you were doing, so I should simply forgive you for your little ‘indiscretion.’ “

  Christian held his breath, afraid to argue his cause. He’d never seen Anthony behave like this. There was a wild look in his eyes, a desperate tone in his voice. Christian could not help wondering whether the play at the hazard table was going badly, if that was why Averill was so testy.