Compromising Miss Tisdale

by Jessica Jefferson

  Duncan nodded. “Yes, she’s always been most generous with Jason and myself. I can see why she was always mother’s dearest.”

  Duncan took the contents of the glass in one swallow and held it out to be refilled, to which his uncle complied. “Why did you ask me to come?”

  His uncle found a seat in a deep, leather high-backed chair. “It is the start of the social Season. I thought the new Earl of Bristol should make an appearance.”

  “Liar.”

  Richard snickered. “Not entirely.”

  Duncan exhaled deeply. “Couldn’t you have met me up North at my home? Why did you feel the need to bring me back here, to London?”

  “Is anything in particular bothering you, or do you simply have an aversion to civilization?”

  Duncan snorted. “I would hardly call London civilized, at least not in the human sense. I was mistaken for a common laborer earlier by some chit with the oddest name.”

  Richard thought for a moment. “Ahhh, yes. That must have been one of the Tisdales. Lovely girls, take after their mother. I know of their family-excellent stock. I believe there are four Tisdale girls running about. The oldest is chairperson of some Virtuous Ladies’ Society or some such nonsense.”

  Duncan arched an eyebrow. “So, she’s not just a self-proclaimed virtuous young lady, but rather an official virtuous young lady? Sounds thrilling.”

  Richard laughed. “Yes, those London girls have never been your cup of tea. You’ve always preferred a merry widow, an actress, or the bed of a more experienced married woman to the girls the mama’s try to sell at market.”

  “Never a married woman.” Duncan was annoyed at his avoidance of the subject at hand. Richard grew quiet. The bloated silence in the room filled with the memory of Duncan’s parents’ infidelities. He quickly changed the subject. “Now why did you ask me to return?”

  “I’m dying.”

  So much for polite conversation.

  Duncan felt as if the rug had just been pulled out from under him. “Would you care to repeat that?”

  “I’m sick. Tired, actually. But the physicians tell me it’s one in the same. They say my heart is not quite strong enough and I won’t make it through summer.”

  Duncan’s head whirled. He had just lost his brother-Uncle Richard was the only family he had left.

  “I know you didn’t want to become Earl. You’ve never been invested like your brother in continuing the family legacy. It was his fate, not yours.” Richard took a moment to gather his strength, obviously becoming over-tired from all the emotion.

  “There was a time that I thought I would get married, but I kept putting it off till the years passed and I remained a bachelor.” He chuckled. “Ironically, despite all my past indiscretions, I’m left with not even a bastard to call my own. Now, it’s all on your shoulders, as reluctant as they might be.”

  Duncan dipped his head and ran his hands through his hair. “I’m not unwilling.” He realized after the words were said that they hardly sounded believable. “I’m not deliriously happy about the chain of events, either. You forget-I didn’t leave London by choice.”

  “What was your father to do?” Richard asked. “You were out of control. How many thousands of pounds did he spend trying to right your wrongs? Even with you in the country, the stories of your exploits still found their way to my ears.”

  “Is this why you brought me here? To lecture me about how I’ve chosen to lead my life?” Duncan let his head roll back, frustrated by the all-too-familiar direction the discussion was taking when there was obviously more critical dialogue to be had.

  “In a way, yes. I need you to become respectable. Your brother worked diligently ‘til the day he died to rebuild the reputation that your parents squandered. And there’s the matter of fortune. Your father and mother misspent much of it. Jason tried to rebuild what he could, but he just didn’t have enough time. Without proper action, society will soon find out how poor we’ve become.”

  His uncle paused, took a deep breath, then continued. “You need to accept the role of Earl and return honor to our family’s name. It is up to you to continue your brother’s legacy. I suggest you start by taking your seat, marrying for money, and producing an heir. It’s quite simple, really. Just don’t bungle the order of it.”

  Duncan’s head shot back up. “Pardon me?” The dying part he could handle, but now the conversation was taking a turn for the ridiculous.

  Richard poured him another liberal glass of brandy, and refreshed his own. “I can’t die a pauper, knowing our family is remembered only for the exploits of your nefarious parents. It’s about posterity and our legacy. Don’t you understand?” He slumped back, spent. “Of course you don’t. You’re eight and twenty-you have your whole life ahead of you.”

  He still couldn’t understand why his uncle was being so rash. He reached over and put a comforting hand on his knee. “I’m sure all will be well. I will rebuild the fortune soon enough and I’m certain, given time, I’ll even settle down.”

  Richard shook his head. “Soon enough is not soon enough. I’ll be dead by fall.”

  Duncan took back his hand. “How am I to do this? You’re asking me to find a fortune and change who I am. Miracles take time!” The conversation echoed many he had entertained with his father while he was alive.

  “I know,” Richard snapped, sitting up in his chair. “But I haven’t any. That’s why I called you here to London. Listen to yourself—you’re like a petulant child. You are no longer a boy and it is time that you do what is right, rather than what is shocking. Surround yourself with decent people and fill your life with worthwhile pursuits. Representing your family has never been a priority for you and now you must pursue the matter with the utmost urgency. Here, in London.”

  Richard leaned in and grabbed Duncan’s hands. “Please. I am asking you, as a dying man making his last request. Be the Earl, help fill the title with honor and respect, find a rich wife from a good family, and let me die with peace in my heart.”

  Duncan scowled and removed his hands from his uncle’s grasp.

  “Laying it on a bit thick there, aren’t we?”

  Richard slumped back into his chair again. “You give me no choice but to play the cards I am dealt.”

  The side of Duncan’s mouth crept up. “Yes, I can see how that death card could be quite convenient.”

  Richard chuckled. “So, will you at least stay for a few weeks and make an effort? Your townhouse is being readied and you should be able to move in by the end of next week.”

  Duncan thought for a moment. “Jason’s townhouse?”

  “It’s yours. It’s all yours now.”

  Duncan was quiet, trying to absorb the magnitude of such a statement.

  Chapter 5

  “So, did you meet him, then?” Lady Lillian Colton asked, holding up one of Ambrosia’s gowns, inspecting it, then tossing it to the floor.

  “I thought when a lady married, it was expected she take up residence in a home shared with her husband. Yet every time I turn around, I find you in my home. More specifically, in my room. It’s as if you’ve never left.” Ambrosia quickly picked up the gown and gently laid it across a chaise. “Meet whom exactly?”

  Her sister removed another gown from the wardrobe and shook her head. “These are truly awful. Who did you commission to create something so matronly? I’ve seen nuns’ habits that were more revealing.” Lilly tossed the rose-colored garment to the floor. “Lord Bristol, of course. Weren’t you at the Montgomery’s ball?”

  Ambrosia picked up the discarded gown. If it had been anyone but Lilly, she would have been incensed. But it was Lilly’s good natured honesty, coupled with intense caring, that made her the favorite of the family. “I’ll have you know that these dresses come from Madame Dubois’ on Bond Street. You can still be fashionable without displaying all your wares to the world. And yes, I was at the ball and I vaguely remember meeting a Lord Bristol.”

  And by vaguely, she mea
nt the entire scene replayed itself within her mind at least a hundred times a day.

  Lilly stopped. “Only vaguely? I can’t see how he didn’t manage to make more of an impression on you when he is all anyone is talking about. I’ve heard of nothing else for nearly a week. So, is it true, then?”

  Ambrosia sighed, anxious to be done with the subject. “Is what true?”

  “Is he terribly handsome? Is he charming? Is he careless as to anyone’s opinion? Is he positively rakish? Is he everything they’re saying he is?”

  More. All that and more.

  Ambrosia set her hands on her hips. “Do try and contain yourself. May I remind you that you’re a married woman?”

  “I’m married, not dead,” she answered flatly.

  “You know how I detest gossip.”

  Lilly dramatically waved her hands in the air. “Yes, of course I do. How could I forget with that halo about your head and those wings you’re constantly flaunting?”

  Ambrosia seated herself on the bench at the end of her bed. “I’m hardly as good as all that,” she mumbled, waves of guilt flooding over her. What would her sister say if she knew when the opportunity for impropriety presented itself, she had thrown her proverbial halo right out the window? She had allowed the sight of a strange man’s chest to render her witless and fallen prey to temptation.

  Granted, it was quite an attractive chest, with all its muscled lines and bronzed skin, but that was hardly an acceptable excuse for falling from grace.

  “Of course you are, don’t be so humble. That’s why they chose you to lead that ridiculous group. What is it called again? The Organization for Women Against Frivolity and Humor or some such nonsense?”

  “I believe you are referring to The Organization for the Rejuvenation of a Virtuous Society. And it is hardly ridiculous. It’s a time-honored Tisdale tradition for us to serve. If only you were doing your part for posterity and joining our ranks.”

  Her sister smiled mischievously. “Of course it isn’t ridiculous. Any group with such a long and illustrious name could hardly be regarded as such.”

  Lilly stopped at a mirror for a moment and tried to tuck a loose curl back into place. She had been an awkward youth, resembling little of their beautiful mother, but with time had blossomed into a lovely young woman. She could have married anyone, but a childhood friend had stolen her heart. Lilly had been free to follow love wherever it led her. Luckily, it had led her to a love match with a Viscount, Lord Colton.

  Ambrosia reflexively touched her own hair.

  No loose curls. Never a tendril out of place.

  Hers was not the same freedom as her sister’s.

  Lilly brushed a discarded gown from the chaise to the floor, then promptly occupied the space. “I know I shouldn’t gossip, but I am weak and cannot resist.”

  Ambrosia scooped the gown off the floor, placing it on the bed. “No tittle-tattle is worth compromising one’s integrity.”

  “But it’s so difficult to avoid. Everyone I call upon has a different story to share. First, there was talk about the Earl’s phaeton ride with some little-known actress in the park. Then, there was report about his evening at Vauxhall with an Italian opera singer. And all the chitchat about the gaming tables and those absurdly large wagers . . . ”

  Loose women and gaming?

  Ambrosia yawned. She was hardly impressed. His offenses were no worse than every other gentleman in London that fancied himself a rake.

  “And just this afternoon I heard the most shocking bit about the Earl and two French women in Lord Beauford’s orangery during a musicale. Can you imagine? How can anyone not be tempted by tales of Lord Bristol’s exploits? They’re far more entertaining than anything I have to offer.”

  Ambrosia was shocked into silence; visions of flying fruit, to the tune of a poorly executed sonata, played in her head.

  “Oh, dear, forgive me. I’ve offended your delicate senses. I’m sure it’s all grossly exaggerated. This is London, after all, and unless you’ve heard it from the servants, then it probably isn’t true.” Lilly made her way back to the wardrobe and continued perusing through the dresses.

  Ambrosia hardly considered her senses to be delicate, but had to admit that even she was a bit taken off guard by such debauched behavior. The Earl of Bristol was not just another gentleman with rakish pursuits. He was the real thing—a true libertine.

  And she couldn’t have been more intrigued.

  “Mama mentioned that you received an offer of marriage from one of the Chaddock men.” Lilly held up a gown and smiled, finally finding something suitable amidst Ambrosia’s limited wardrobe. “What do you think about this one? I’ve never seen you wear it before and I think it would be just perfect for the theatre tonight.”

  Ambrosia nodded. She would have agreed to a burlap sack if it meant ceasing conversation about the Earl of Bristol. For once, she welcomed the topic of marriage and her lack thereof. “I told Mama I wasn’t interested. Those Chaddocks are much too . . . ” she grasped for the right word, choosing to abandon her statement instead. “Well, neither of the Chaddocks will do.”

  Lilly held the gown up against Ambrosia. “I don’t understand how you can keep finding fault with all these men. Remember that poor gentleman you refused last Season—Lord Bartlesby? I can’t for the life of me figure out what was so unsuitable about him.”

  Ambrosia pushed the dress aside. “I admit he was a handsome enough fellow. He came from good stock and possessed a large fortune. But he was a bit on the plump side. Poor man could barely button his waistcoat. A man that can’t control his cravings is certain to lack discipline in other areas of his life.”

  “What about Lord Montgomery’s son? The younger one?”

  “Too tall. I hardly wish to raise a brood of giants.”

  “Viscount Hornsby?”

  “A bit too fond of the gaming hells.”

  “The Marquis of Westerfield? He is such a lovely gentleman.”

  “That dandy? I’d prefer a man who stares at me for hours rather than his own reflection. Besides, I could never live with a man who spends more time dressing than I do.”

  “Nonsense!” Lilly exclaimed between giggles. “There has to be someone out there that meets your standards, as impossible as they might be. Just what is it that you’re looking for?”

  This wasn’t the first time she had been asked that question and always her answer remained the same. “I’m not quite certain exactly what it is. But I simply refuse to compromise until I’ve found it.”

  The Tisdales made their entrance into the theatre as they did every Thursday evening. Ambrosia followed her parents to their usual box, with younger sisters, Tamsin and Rose, close behind. Lord and Lady Colton also joined the family for the night’s entertainment.

  Once they made it to their seats, Ambrosia self-consciously tugged at her bodice. When she’d agreed on wearing whatever it was Lilly had selected, she had unwittingly acquiesced to an icy-blue evening gown that was at least three Seasons old. She was, of course, three Seasons older and had thus grown a bit—or developed as the case may be—since the dress was originally fitted.

  “You’re only drawing attention to yourself,” Lillian whispered discreetly. “You look lovely, now leave it alone.”

  Ambrosia gave one final tug. “This neckline is indecent. Little wonder why you haven’t seen me in it before.”

  Lilly gave a sly smile. “Which is exactly why I picked it. Those matronly gowns you’re so fond of hardly do you justice. I’ve never seen you look so beautiful and I’m quite certain this gown will garner quite a bit of attention. You’ll thank me later.”

  Ambrosia accepted the compliment in silence.

  Three acts later, she was the only Tisdale that was silent.

  Tamsin, ever the hoyden, was threatening mutiny against the confines of her evening wear. Rose, the bluestocking, was criticizing the artistic capabilities of the actors on stage. Both parents were consumed by their efforts to pacify each of
the young girls and couldn’t possibly have witnessed any of the evening’s performance. Lilly and her husband were too preoccupied with the assumed sweet nothings each were whispering into the other’s ear to have noticed the commotion around them, let alone the actual play in front of them.

  It was a typical evening out with the Tisdale family.

  Ambrosia lifted her opera glasses and mindlessly scanned the audience. With each pass about the room, she felt her random perusal become more purposeful. She searched those in attendance for the profile of a man she had met a week before and had left her confused amongst throngs of other new emotions.

  The realization of her intent was alarming. She only ever searched crowds for men she wished to avoid and couldn’t fathom why on earth she found herself looking for someone as inconsequential as Lord Bristol. A rush of warmth flooded her body and suddenly she had to get some air.

  Knowing that her family would hardly miss her, Ambrosia slipped out the back of the box and made her way through a set of doors to a balcony overlooking the gardens.

  The cool April air swept over her face and she leaned over the railing as if to feel more of it. Only the faint sound of the accompanying orchestra and the occasional rustle of branches could be heard from her vantage point. She closed her eyes and relished the calm, away from her family, away from the people, and away from her culpability.

  “Hello, Ambrosia.”

  Chapter 6

  Ambrosia gasped upon hearing the unexpected voice.

  She turned around slowly to find Amelia’s brother, the Duke of Kenning, walking toward her with a most dashing smile. The gesture might have weakened her knees if she hadn’t already known the character of the man that hid behind that exceptionally handsome façade.

  Lord Kenning seized her hand from her side and placed a kiss upon the top of it, allowing his lips to linger far too long and not releasing it promptly after. “I saw you in your box and was optimistic you would come seek me out.” His blue eyes dazzled. “It appears my hopes have been realized.”