Summer of Scandal

by Syrie James

  This time it was different. His lips were more driven, insistent. His tongue pressed against the seam of her lips, urging them apart, and then slipped inside her mouth. Madeleine gave a little gasp. She’d heard that kissing involved tongues, but hadn’t been prepared for it.

  He taught her the way of it and she found herself responding, their tongues intertwining in a sensuous dance. He tasted as clean and fresh as the pool from which they’d just drunk. Madeleine felt enveloped by his scent: woodsy, sun-warmed. His hands ran over the curves of her back, caressing her. Her own hands traced the hard muscles of his shoulders, smoothing down to his waist. As she pressed him more firmly against her, she heard a soft noise, somewhere between a sigh and groan, and wasn’t sure if it came from his throat or her own. Or both.

  She felt something else, too, pressing hard and insistent against her lower body. She had no experience with such things, but had read enough to recognize it as evidence of his desire, which raised her own excitement to an even higher level.

  Time had no meaning. She was shocked by her wantonness. They kissed and kissed some more. Her entire body began to burn in a way she’d never before experienced. A surprising warmth settled in her most feminine spot, between her thighs.

  The only sounds that broke the silence were their own labored breathing, their ecstatic murmurs, and the sensuous backdrop of plinking water. The cave was like a safe haven, an intimate space just for the two of them, separate from the rest of the world.

  His hand skimmed up the curve of her waist now, lingering at the side of her breast. She wondered, hazily, if he meant to touch her there. No man had ever taken such liberties with her. Nor had she ever wanted them to. Until now. She felt the muscles in his body tense with need, and sensed that he wanted more.

  How much more was she willing to give him? The thought entered her consciousness despite herself, unanswered. At the same moment, with what appeared to be great effort, he ended the kiss, breathing hard. One of his hands rose to caress her cheek. His gaze met hers with an affectionate smile. Then he pulled her close and simply held her against him, her face buried in the crook of his neck.

  For a long while they stood that way, silently entwined in each other’s arms. Madeleine trembled with sensation. She was elated about what had just happened. She had wondered what kissing was like. Now she knew. Kissing was wonderful. She loved kissing.

  She had made two wishes just now. In the second, silent wish, she had asked for a sign, to help her understand whether or not she was supposed to marry Oakley. Then Lord Saunders had kissed her. And oh, what a kiss it had been.

  Was that the sign? Madeleine asked herself. Am I not supposed to marry Lord Oakley after all, but rather, Lord Saunders?

  As these thoughts crossed her mind, Saunders stepped back, letting go of her. He rubbed one hand across his chin, a distracted expression on his face. “Damn it,” he said. “Longford was right. I am the biggest bastard who ever lived.”

  Madeleine stared at him, all the pleasure of the encounter they’d just shared vanishing in an instant, taking her recent surmise with it.

  Apparently, he deemed their kiss to have been a terrible mistake. Yes, she acknowledged, there were plenty of reasons for him not to have kissed her, and for her not to have kissed him. Still, she wouldn’t have minded if he’d admitted, just for a second, to having enjoyed it. Told her that she was so alluring, so beautiful, so . . . something, that he hadn’t been able to help himself.

  “I swear, I did not plan this,” he went on, regret in his eyes. “I was entirely out of line. I have no wish to come between you and Oakley. Forgive me.”

  Madeleine flinched. Now he was apologizing for kissing her. When a man kissed you like that, one didn’t want an apology. A kiss like that ought to mean something. It had meant something to her. But apparently not to him.

  She reminded herself of what all the debutantes had said about him during the Season. It was absolutely true: he was a flirt and a rake. He’d probably kissed dozens of women. He was the type who kissed women in caves because he felt like it, then discarded them like an unwanted plaything. He’d kissed her, now he was done with her, and apparently he felt bad about it. What bothered her was that he didn’t seem to feel bad because he might have hurt her, but more because he was upset with himself for breaking some personal code of honor.

  Well, he didn’t have the monopoly on that, Madeleine thought with sudden shame. Now that time and space were causing reason to return, she realized that she had broken a code of honor, too. Her face grew hot as the voice in the back of her head awoke and said, Madeleine, that was so, so wrong, and you know it.

  Was it really only a few short days ago that she had considered the betrayal of a friend as one of the worst things a human being could do to another? She had once judged Lord Saunders harshly for that offense. Yet she had just done that very thing—and quite willingly. In kissing Saunders, she had been disloyal not only to Lord Oakley, but Sophie as well.

  An awkward silence fell. Madeleine couldn’t remember when she’d ever felt so uncomfortable. She swallowed hard, sweeping the ill feelings aside, struggling to reassemble what was left of her pride.

  Buck up, Madeleine. You are to blame for this as much as he is. Be dignified. Move on.

  “We both got carried away,” she said finally. Picking up her bag of shells and stones, she added, “But don’t worry, Lord Saunders. I’m leaving shortly. I promise, I will never breathe a word about this. Let’s pretend it never happened.”

  He nodded gravely. Without further comment, he replaced his hat on his head, turned, and led the way out of the cave. When they reached the beach again, both of them squinting against the sunlight, he asked if she would like him to walk her back to the house.

  Madeleine shook her head firmly. “No thank you. I think it’s best if I return on my own.”

  He gave her another nod.

  Madeleine sprinted away down the beach and climbed the steep path up the cliff as fast as her stays would allow. The trek across the Trevelyan grounds had never felt so long or so exhausting. By the time she reached the rear door of the manor house, she was gasping for breath.

  Some fifteen minutes later, she had gathered the last of her things from her room and returned downstairs, where the clock was striking eleven.

  “Your carriage has arrived, miss,” Woodson told her. “Your luggage is all on board.”

  “Thank you, Woodson. I’ll just be a minute.”

  Madeleine hurried to the breakfast room, where Lady Trevelyan and Sophie were finishing their coffee.

  “Maddie!” Sophie rose and hurried over. “Woodson said you went out walking, but did not know where. I was so afraid I would not see you before you departed.”

  A blush warmed Madeleine’s cheeks and spread to her chest. How could she look her friend in the eye after what had just happened in the cave? But she had to look. “I’d never leave without bidding you good-bye, Sophie.”

  “I’m glad. I have a gift for you.” Sophie retrieved something from a nearby chair. “When I said I had a headache yesterday, it was just a ruse. I was actually in my room, making this.” She offered the gift to Madeleine with pride. It was a linen handkerchief, embroidered with a spray of violets and monogrammed with the letter M. “I wanted to give you something as a symbol of our friendship.”

  “Oh, Sophie.” Madeleine felt another stab of guilt at this sweet offering from a woman who, just moments ago, she had secretly wronged. “It is lovely. But I feel terrible. I have nothing to give you.”

  “Please! Do not even think of that. It gave me such pleasure to make you this. I do not expect nor require anything in return.”

  “Thank you, Sophie. I will treasure it always.” Madeleine embraced Sophie, tears of shame stinging her eyes.

  “I am sorry you are leaving. I shall miss you.”

  “I’ll miss you, too.” Swallowing hard, Madeleine turned to Lady Trevelyan. “Your Ladyship. I can never thank you enough for your gr
acious hospitality this week. You have been so kind.”

  “I enjoyed having you.” She came over, holding out her hand for Madeleine to shake. “I hope you will come and see us again, Miss Atherton.”

  “I hope so too,” Madeleine said, knowing that she never could.

  Lady Trevelyan pursed her lips now. “Where is Charles? He ought to be here to say good-bye.”

  “We said good-bye last night,” Madeleine insisted, flushing. “I really must go.”

  “Promise me you will write,” Sophie implored, as she accompanied Madeleine down the hall and outside to where the coach awaited.

  “I promise.” Madeleine hugged Sophie one last time before climbing aboard the vehicle. As it traveled down the drive, she waved through the window, relieved to be heading for Polperran House at last. Relieved to be putting distance between herself and Trevelyan Manor.

  And her unsettling infatuation with Lord Saunders, which had no place in her life. Or his.

  From now on, she promised herself, she would think no more about him. She would direct her thoughts along a more proper channel, and think about Lord Oakley.

  Who was her reason for coming to Cornwall in the first place.

  “You must tell us everything.”

  Alexandra’s blue eyes shone as she reached out from her wicker chair and clasped Madeleine’s hand. In her seventh month of pregnancy, Alexandra looked more beautiful than ever, her face glowing with a quiet happiness that Madeleine had never witnessed before.

  Upon arrival, Madeleine had been so happy to see her sister, she’d fairly thrown herself into her arms. Once she’d established that Alexandra was truly well, Madeleine had hugged Thomas and his sisters with affection, and then enjoyed a tour of the house.

  Polperran House had undergone many changes since Madeleine’s last visit. The work of the past ten months had produced outstanding results. Necessary repairs had been made to the massive Elizabethan manor home’s roof, windows, and masonry; indoor plumbing had been installed in some areas; and many new furnishings had been purchased. A great deal of work had also been done on the grounds, Alexandra had informed her, to restore them to their former glory.

  If the gloriously blooming formal gardens, which Madeleine could see from their vantage point on the rear veranda, were any indication of what had been done on the rest of the property, she suspected the estate must be a real showplace now.

  “Everything?” Madeleine replied now, smiling at her sister. The whole family was assembled under a sunny sky, enjoying a luncheon of chicken salad sandwiches, iced tea, and fresh fruit. “Where should I start?”

  “Start with your proposal,” cried Julia, a golden-haired, sixteen-year-old beauty whose interest in fashion was exemplified by the chic ensemble she wore.

  “Who is he?” prodded Lillie, thirteen, with excitement. Her white dress and long brown curls were both embellished by blue satin ribbons.

  “Yes, do tell.” Thomas had been the caretaker of his younger sisters since the death of their parents some years before. Relaxing in a comfortable chair with his long, lean legs stretched out in front of him, he looked every bit the lord of the manor as he regarded Madeleine with interest in his brown eyes, his blond hair glinting in the sunlight.

  “Alexandra would tell us nothing!” Julia added admonishingly.

  “That’s because I only know what Mother has told me,” Alexandra insisted. “I thought it best to wait for Maddie to share her news with all of us.”

  Madeleine paused, struggling to hide the turmoil still simmering within her after the events of that morning. She had hoped for a private conversation with her sister to discuss Lord Oakley, but it seemed that it was to be a matter of discussion with the entire family.

  “Well . . .” Taking a deep breath, she plunged in. “His name is Lord Philip Heyer. He’s the fifth Marquess of Oakley, the eldest son of the Duke of Courtenay.”

  “The eldest son,” exclaimed Lillie. “Then he will be a duke.”

  “Yes, he will,” Madeleine responded.

  “Your mother must be over the moon about that,” Thomas pointed out dryly.

  Alexandra nodded. “Naturally, she is very much in favor of the match.”

  “I remember him from Oxford,” Thomas commented. “A good sort of fellow.”

  “I believe he is,” Alexandra agreed.

  Madeleine turned to Alexandra in surprise. “Have you met him, too?”

  “We danced together once, during my Season last year. I recall him as being very tall, a distinguished sort of young man.”

  Madeleine nodded. “He is. The family has a grand, ancient estate in Sussex. Mother and I visited there a few weeks ago. It is a lovely place.”

  “Hang the house, Maddie. Talk about the man,” insisted Thomas.

  “Yes. Do you like him?” Alexandra asked.

  “I do. I like him very much.” Madeleine told them the story of how she and Lord Oakley met. “He makes good conversation,” she finished, “is attentive and very thoughtful.”

  “You did not say if he is handsome,” observed Julia.

  “He’s quite handsome,” Madeleine admitted.

  “When he proposed, did he go down on one knee?” asked Lillie breathlessly.

  “He did.”

  “Just like in a storybook.” Lillie sighed.

  Alexandra’s eyes were circumspect as she studied Madeleine. “He sounds like an exemplary man,” she noted carefully. “But if I understand your letter correctly, you haven’t yet accepted his offer?”

  Madeleine shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “Why not?” asked Julia.

  “What are you waiting for?” inquired Lillie.

  Madeleine recalled Lord Trevelyan asking her the same question, and began to feel uncomfortable. How should she answer?

  Alexandra raised a hand and said sternly, “I think that’s enough on that subject. This is a private matter for a later discussion, sister to sister.”

  Lillie groaned with disappointment, and Julia said, “What? That is not fair.”

  Thomas, with a sympathetic glance at Madeleine, quickly steered the conversation in a new direction. “Lillie, tell Maddie about the books you have been reading. You know how much she loves novels.”

  This new topic captured Lillie’s interest, and to Madeleine’s relief, the girl launched into an animated explanation of her new literary favorites, a subject which was also dear to Madeleine’s heart.

  Recalling Julia’s crush the year before on Lord Saunders’s younger brother, James Grayson, Madeleine commented that she’d heard the young man was spending the summer in Ireland.

  “Oh! I have no interest in him anymore,” Julia insisted, tossing her head. “I have far more important things to do.” Julia brought out her sketchbook of women’s fashions, all pretty and imaginative ensembles she’d designed herself, which had Madeleine and Alexandra oohing and aahing.

  “Thomas has also been giving me watercolor lessons,” Julia enthused, “and he promised to teach me oils when I am ready.”

  Over the course of the afternoon, Madeleine was caught up on all the latest news of the family. The girls’ governess, who had been hired the previous summer after Alexandra’s short stint in that position, had gone home to care for her sick mother, and Thomas had not yet found a replacement. In the interim, Alexandra had taken over their daily lessons again, and also volunteered once a week at the local school.

  “I so love teaching,” Alexandra explained, “and it is gratifying to see how much the children in the village have improved in their studies over the past year.”

  Thomas, a highly skilled artist who had been trained in Florence, was now a member of the Academy of British Artists, the first member of the peerage to be so admitted, and he had won an award for one of his paintings.

  “I should love to paint the two of you,” Thomas announced at dinner, gazing fondly at his wife and Madeleine over a glass of cabernet. “A sisters’ portrait. What say you?”

 
“That would be wonderful, but I doubt I’ll be here long enough to sit for a portrait,” Madeleine replied with a regretful smile.

  That evening, after the girls went to bed, Thomas retreated to his study to give Madeleine and Alexandra what he called “sister time.”

  “At last,” Alexandra said, turning to Madeleine when they were alone in the elegantly furnished upstairs parlor, “we can talk freely.”

  Madeleine sank down on the sofa beside her. “Now that I’m here, I suddenly feel a bit ridiculous.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I guess because I rushed down to Cornwall to consult with you on a matter that I ought to be able to figure out on my own.”

  “Dearest, matters of the heart can be confusing. If there’s any way I can be of help to you, I will. But I think you’d better start from the beginning.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Grateful for the listening ears of a compassionate sister, Madeleine told Alexandra in detail all about her courtship with Lord Oakley.

  “I knew he was going to offer for me, otherwise why did he invite us to Hatfield Park?”

  “I presume his family needs your fortune?”

  “Yes. But he said he loves me.” Madeleine let go a sigh. “It should be an easy decision, shouldn’t it? As Mother keeps pointing out, if I marry him, I’ll be a duchess.”

  “Maddie. You know as well as I do that being a duchess means nothing if you’re not happy. Let’s leave Mother and her aspirations out of the equation entirely. You will be marrying a man, not his title. And, from what Thomas tells me . . . from what you tell me . . . he does seem like a nice young man.”

  “That’s the problem. He is nice. Very nice.” Madeleine closed her eyes, conjuring up a mental image of Lord Oakley on the night they met, when he took her hand and led her out onto the dance floor. To her dismay, when the man in her mind smiled at her, it wasn’t Lord Oakley at all. It was Lord Saunders.