Seeking Scandal

by Nadine Millard

  The end of the week arrived and along with it, the happy knowledge that the guests would depart the next day. The Nobles were heading straight to the docks in London so they could catch their ship home.

  Although Caroline had grown fond of Freddie Noble, she would be happy to see the back of his daughter, especially in light of her assignations with Charles.

  This evening, Tom was to host a farewell ball for his guests.

  Caroline sat in her room and pondered the weeks ahead.

  In two short weeks, the London Season would end. She had made no effort to find a husband and, she realised now, she would make no effort when they returned to Town.

  The truth was that the idea of entering back into the fray of the marriage mart, especially in the last two weeks when mamas became more desperate and debutantes more scandalous, was completely unpalatable.

  So too, of course, was the idea of marrying the practically mummified Lord Doncastle.

  So she had no intentions of doing that either.

  The familiar feelings of guilt and fear about her father's health swept through her but she pushed them down relentlessly.

  Rebecca had married a duke and Charles would be the Earl of Ranford one day. Caroline should not be carrying the weight of pressure to marry well. Or at least, to marry a title.

  Oh, she had lost her chance with Tom and, frankly, she knew now that she would never marry. But to tell her father that at the same time as coming home unattached and with a refusal for Lord Doncastle would probably be far too much for his heart to take.

  Caroline sat and gazed at her reflection whilst in the background Sally was overseeing the filling of her bathtub.

  How she had changed in these past few weeks.

  There had been plenty of firsts for her — first brush with danger, though Tom had saved her. First brush with scandal when she had gotten completely foxed, though Tom had smoothed that over.

  Tom, Tom, Tom. It seemed that her thoughts would not allow her to escape him anymore than her heart would.

  The downstairs maids had finished filling the tub and the scent of roses permeated the air.

  How she would have looked forward to this night, if things hadn't changed so much between her and Tom.

  How she would have looked forward to him seeing her in her finery, to dancing in his arms, to strolling with him in the moonlight and, most of all, to feel his lips claiming her own, to feel his strong arms wrapping around her, making her feel as though she was the most treasured jewel in the world.

  "My lady," Sally's voice interrupted Caroline's wistful daydream, "let's get you ready."

  Tom stood and gazed unseeing into the fire, nursing his brandy and cursing his fate. He was in a towering rage and was hanging onto his temper by sheer force of will.

  Locked away in the study, he was taking a few moments' respite from the crowd of people invading his home. His aunt had insisted that this ball needed to be the event of the Season to make his mark and show everyone how well off he was. Little did she know that there was a very real chance he would soon be throwing it all away.

  Caroline had been avoiding him since their last, brutal conversation. On the rare occasion that he did actually manage to speak to her, she had been coolly distant and it was driving him mad.

  Did she really believe that she could go back to the Caroline of old and he would just accept it?

  He was heartily sick of feeling so helpless about her. Of feeling so gut-wrenchingly guilty about the things he had said. But he refused to think that it was too late. He would insist that she speak to him tonight. He would declare himself once again, throw himself at her mercy. And if he suffered another rejection he would leave, like the coward he was. But at least he would know he had given it his best shot.

  Caroline listened to the sounds of the hallway filling with people. Along with the guests who were staying, there were plenty of people arriving from London since it was only a few hours' drive away.

  They'd been arriving all afternoon and would be staying until tomorrow morning — some at the house, which was now filled to capacity, some at their own local estates or those of friends, and some at the village inn.

  It was going to be a much larger affair than Caroline had expected, until she found out that the dowager had been given free reign over the event.

  The lady, it seemed, was determined to show the haute monde that her nephew was a force to be reckoned with. His looks alone ensured that, thought Caroline, but the dowager was probably proud that Tom was becoming a respectable man and not the scandalous rake he had been up until now.

  Caroline quite liked the scandalous rake in him. Not that her opinion mattered anymore.

  A soft knock on the door signalled the arrival of Rebecca, resplendent in burgundy satin.

  Edward and Tom had been dragged off to welcome the guests in the reception line beside the dowager.

  Rebecca looked stunning. As always. Marriage certainly agreed with her. There was a constant happiness that just radiated from her, and it became almost tangible whenever she was in the same room as her husband and son.

  Caroline was thrilled for her, but wished more than anything that she'd had the strength to give herself the same chance of happiness. The strength, in short, to have said 'yes'.

  "Caro, you are breath taking," said Rebecca, standing back to admire Caroline as she stood and plucked up her fan and gloves.

  Caroline was dressed in yet another of Madame Barrousse's confections. The colour was a light gold, only a few shades darker than her hair. The satin material of the gown was overlaid with the softest chiffon. Made in the nod to Grecian style that was all the rage at the moment, it fell from her shoulders to a soft, chiffon train. The highlight, for Caroline, was a jewel-studded band along the bodice.

  It was dramatic and eye-catching. Everything one should want in a ball gown.

  Sally had threaded a golden ribbon through Caroline's hair, which was gathered in a pile of soft curls.

  For her sixteenth birthday, Caroline's parents had gifted her an extremely unusual set of yellow sapphires. More gold in fact, than yellow, the necklace complemented the dress beautifully and the earrings added a touch of sparkle to Caroline's face.

  A set of ivory evening gloves, along with a satin ivory fan completed the picture.

  "I am very pleased with the dress," she responded modestly.

  "The dress is beautiful," agreed Rebecca, "but only because you are wearing it."

  Caroline smiled her thanks and moved toward the door.

  Rebecca held out a hand and stopped her progress.

  "Are you alright?" she asked softly.

  Caroline had confessed all to Rebecca, the pain was just too much to keep to herself. It had almost killed her hiding it from everyone the last time and this was worse. Because this time she knew that she would not let fear rule her, but it was too late.

  She nodded now, in answer to Rebecca's concern, not trusting herself to speak.

  Even Rebecca had given up hope for them. As she had listened to what had transpired, her eyes had dulled and Caroline knew that Rebecca thought it was a hopeless case.

  "I'm truly sorry, Caro," she had said, as she held her weeping sister, "I would have given anything to see you happily married to him."

  "But you tried to keep us apart," Caroline protested.

  "Only because I was sure it would force you together. He's a man, generally speaking I thought if you wanted them to do one thing, they would do the opposite."

  She sounded genuinely confused and Caroline laughed in spite of herself.

  "I think there's just been too much damage," Caroline whispered.

  And Rebecca hadn't answered, which was all the answer she'd needed.

  Now they stood, waiting to go down and Caroline could do nothing but try to reassure Rebecca as best she could.

  "Come along, Becca".

  Rebecca looked as though she would have liked to argue but she merely clutched her sister's hand and wa
lked from the room.

  Tom had smiled and nodded at enough people to last him a lifetime.

  "How many have you invited?" he whispered to his aunt.

  "Just those who needed to be here. And everyone accepted," she answered smugly as if that were a great coup.

  "Why wouldn't they?" he asked in confusion.

  His aunt shrugged and answered in that brutally honest way of hers. "Because it's you. Even my ears have heard the stories, Tom. I was half afraid the mamas with any sense would keep their girls far away from you. But it seems your reputation is untouchable. Probably because you're ridiculously handsome," she finished candidly.

  "You old flatterer," quipped Tom, earning him quite a hard smack on the arm.

  "I am not old," the dowager bit out.

  "My apologies, aunt," Tom answered with a grin. "So, have you bankrupted me?"

  "As if that were possible. I believe that is another of your charms that has them all flocking here. Word of your success has been flying around London for quite some time. I knew it would draw them in."

  "And tell me again why any of this is necessary."

  "To cement your place in Society once and for all," she answered stoutly. "You are the grandson of a duke, Tom. It's about time some of your family's respectability rubbed off on you. Besides, look at how the ladies are admiring you."

  Tom looked up to find a gaggle of them staring at him as though they wanted to gobble him up.

  Was it him, or were debutantes much more shameless than they used to be?

  And had that one just winked at him?

  Good heavens.

  He swallowed nervously and looked toward the staircase leading to the bedchambers. To escape, he thought longingly.

  And then, he saw her.

  His breath caught in his throat as the vision of Caroline appeared before him. God, she was too beautiful. It almost hurt to look at her. Dressed in gold, she made her way slowly down the stairs, her form outlined by the swirl of her gown with every step she took.

  He felt as though he should not look directly at her. She looked like a Roman Goddess, golden, bright, and with an incredible power over mere mortals like him.

  "Tom, are you listening?" his aunt admonished from beside him. But he could not even look at her, could not draw his eyes from Caroline.

  "No," he answered truthfully, since he'd heard and seen nothing but Caroline since she had appeared.

  The dowager followed his gaze and supressed a smile of satisfaction.

  "My word, Caroline looks stunning this evening, does she not dear? Dear?" she coaxed as Tom continued to ignore her, his jaw so far open she was worried something would fly into it.

  "Whatever you think is best, aunt," he stuttered, confirming that he had no idea what she was saying.

  With a secret laugh to herself, she pushed him in the direction of Caroline.

  "Go," she said gently, "Edward and I will finish receiving the guests. There aren't many left."

  Tom wasted no time and ran off.

  Edward, however, was not happy.

  "What?" he spluttered. "How is that fair? Why does he get to go?" he whined like a petulant child.

  "Do not whine, dear," said his mother calmly. "And don't sulk."

  He sulked.

  Muttering quite an impressive litany of profanities under his breath he turned again to his mother. "This isn't even my damned house. Why do I have to accept guests for him?"

  "Do you remember, dearest, your engagement ball? Hmm? To my recollection you and Rebecca were neither on time nor in any fit state to receive anybody."

  "That was different," he sulked some more.

  "And why is that, pray?"

  "Because we had just gotten engaged, mother. We couldn't stay away from each other."

  His mother smiled serenely and looked over to where Tom was approaching Caroline.

  "Exactly."

  "My lady."

  Caroline turned at the sound of Tom's voice, her body moving of its own volition, automatically taking a step closer so that she might be surrounded by his scent, his presence.

  Her body was an idiot.

  "Good evening, Tom," she responded politely, executing a perfectly lovely curtsy for the benefit of their various spectators.

  "Would you do me the honour of dancing with me?" he asked, his eyes begging her to consent.

  It was just like two years ago, Caroline thought now, watching his hand extend towards her.

  Just like now, back then she had a decision to make — take his hand and give herself one final moment of bliss or turn away and face the future yet again without him. Heartbroken and alone.

  Wouldn't it be easier to just keep avoiding him? Why make it harder for herself?

  Yes it would be easier. But it wouldn't be anywhere near as wonderful.

  So she took his hand. And they danced.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  TOM WAS SHAKING like a schoolboy. This was far, far too much like that fateful night two years ago.

  She felt incredible in his arms — soft, inviting and like the most natural thing in the world.

  He looked down at her and his breath caught again at her beauty. He would never get used to it. Even if he were lucky enough to spend every day of the rest of his life with her, he wouldn't get used to her.

  Even when she was older, when her hair was sprinkled with grey, she would be the most beautiful thing in the world to him.

  He pulled her closer to his body, filled with an overwhelming urge to run away with her. Away from the problems and confusion. Just the two of them somewhere where nobody could influence them.

  He could feel her trembling too and guilt slashed through him. Was she nervous or excited? Or did she not want to be around him after the horrible things he'd said?

  Suddenly, he was desperate to know, so without another word he turned and marched her toward the open doors, knowing but not caring that his erratic behaviour was drawing stares and gasps from the surrounding guests.

  Once outside, she turned to face him in confusion.

  "What are you—"

  Her words were cut off by the sound of muffled laughter to their left.

  Tom looked over in confusion. Wasn't it a little early for the dandies to be trying to tempt young debutantes?

  "Oh for heaven's sake," muttered Caroline beside him.

  "What?" he asked in confusion.

  "You don't recognise the voices?"

  "No, should I?"

  "Well since they are guests under your roof then I would say yes, you should. That, Tom, is my irascible brother and your esteemed friend, Miss Noble."

  He'd never heard the word 'esteemed' sound like an insult before, but it sure as hell sounded like one now.

  "What should we do?" he asked, completely side tracked for the moment by the horrifying idea of seeing Charles' seduction technique.

  Caroline took in his nervous demeanour and rolled her eyes.

  "I shall deal with it," she said in a tone that reminded him of the proper Caroline of old, and put the fear of God into him. And he wasn't even the one in trouble.

  Caroline stepped closer to the noise. If the rustling potted tree on the balcony was anything to go by, that was where Charles had chosen to, well, best not to think about it really.

  Tom leaned back against the balustrade and prepared to enjoy himself. Seeing Charles being told off like a naughty schoolboy would be most entertaining.

  "Charles."

  Tom winced at the icy tone.

  "A word, if you please."

  The rustling stopped abruptly.

  And then, Charles stepped sheepishly out from behind the tree.

  "Evening, Caroline," he said merrily. "Lovely night, is it not?"

  Tom didn't hear a response from her but, based on the fall of Charles' smile coupled with his pulling at the cravat wound round his neck, he could only guess that Caroline's expression was doing the talking for her. And it wasn't happy.

  "Miss Noble
?" she called out, all calm politeness. He wondered if Charlotte would be lulled into a false sense of security.

  After a long moment, that lady stepped out from the behind the tree too.

  "G-good evening, Lady Caroline."

  It seemed, shockingly, that Charlotte was embarrassed by her behaviour. Or perhaps scared of the consequences.

  Caroline stood with her arms crossed, her back rigid. And Tom had to wonder at his sanity since he found it quite attractive.

  Which made him want her to get the lecture out of the way so that he could get back to making up for the upset of the last few days and trying his damnedest to get her to marry him.

  "It appears you two have an announcement to make."

  Charles looked horrified, Charlotte suddenly calculating.

  Tom laughed.

  "Don't be absurd," Charles finally spluttered. "It's just a bit of fun, Caro."

  Charlotte's eyes narrowed as her head whipped round to glare up at Charles.

  Tom had the sudden urge to shout, "Run, man. Run." But he didn't. He stayed where he was, enjoying the show.

  "A bit of fun?" Charlotte screeched now.

  Charles coughed a few times, pulled some more at his cravat, uttered a couple of profanities for good measure before finally shrugging his shoulders in the timeless tradition of rakes who knew a slap was coming and had resigned themselves to it.

  "Well, yes. You are leaving tomorrow, my dear. But I shall remember our time together fondly."

  And there it was. The slap.

  It resonated in the night air with a rather loud crack.

  Tom winced in sympathy. He'd been at the receiving end of many such slaps and they always hurt like the devil.

  Charles began to protest but Caroline held up a hand and silenced him.

  Then she turned to Miss Noble.

  "I trust you have learned, Miss Noble, not to trust every word that leaves the mouth of such a creature as my brother. A handsome lord he may be, but he is all too aware of it. I am glad you slapped him. No doubt it was deserved. But I should think long and hard about who you disappear behind trees with in the future."