Scandalous Scoundrels

by Aileen Fish

  He rapped on the door before he could think of a good reason not to and handed the butler his card. Following through the hallway he thought that this was, in fact, the grandest house he had ever been in. The room that he was led to was enormous, with soaring light blue walls. The butler announced his name while John’s heart sank to somewhere in the region of his ankles. The room, while large, was filled with a prodigious number of gentlemen. He recognized second and third sons, with a light sprinkling of heirs throughout. Most likely none of them would remember him, or if they did remember him they wouldn’t care. At their epicenter sat Elisa, a lovely older woman at her side. When his name was announced Elisa’s gaze had flitted briefly to the doorway, but her interest had not been held. No recognition. Not even a smile of greeting. If she was a goddess of light and passion at night, it was more than balanced by her being a goddess of reserve and judgment during the day.

  John seated himself at the periphery of her group of suitors and hoped to suffer through the next moments with some equanimity. The body language of her bevy of suitors couldn’t be clearer. They resented his arrival. They rejected him. As he had no facility at social discourse he simply sat and watched. One young lordling recited poetry. A younger son recounted his prowess with his team of four and begged Miss Jarvis to ride in the park with him. As he watched, as he listened, he began to take heart. She hated them. Although outwardly gracious and not uttering one untoward word, her tension and lack of reaction spoke volumes. She didn’t want flattery or poetry or invitations to the park. Not that he knew precisely what she did want, other than for all of them to leave. But at least now he was armed with knowing what she didn’t want.

  If he could, he would have driven out all these fops for her. Well, and a bit for himself as well. Since he couldn’t, he did the only thing available to him. He stood and, showing as much bravery as a private at the front lines of Waterloo, announced, “I’m terribly sorry that I have to leave, Miss Jarvis.”

  “We will be sorry to lose you, sir,” she said very correctly. And also revealing that she had already forgotten his name.

  “It is clear that I can only distinguish myself by not overstaying my welcome.”

  He saw a glimmer of something in her eyes. Humor or gratitude, he wasn’t sure. But with that he quit the field.

  ***

  “Knowing what she enjoys is paramount. Every woman is seduced by something different.” ~ Lord Lucifer

  Elisa received gifts almost daily from her admirers. It was usually expedient to open everything quickly, and send out thank you notes just as rapidly. There was no point in dawdling. This morning’s post included what felt like a book. She removed the paper wrapping and a folded note fell out.

  I have just finished this and thought you might enjoy it, as you are the adventurous type.

  No signature. No address. Casimir? It must be Casimir. How did he find her? She felt a blush heating her cheeks.

  “What on earth do you have there that is making you flush up?” Fanny asked.

  Elisa looked at the cover. “Waverly.”

  “Haven’t heard of it.”

  “It’s an adventure story.”

  “What about that leads to blushing?”

  Elisa handed over the letter. “I finally have an admirer who understands me.”

  Fanny looked at the paper and frowned. “If only we could figure out which one it is.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Seduction is much like a hunt. Charging your fences will only end in misery. Of particular note: you will not know where those fences are in advance.” ~ Lord Lucifer

  As approaching Elisa seemed near impossible with her throng of suitors, the next morning John presented himself to the same household but asked to speak to Lord Emberly. As was the way of the ton, it had been easy enough to find out who was responsible for Miss Jarvis. That she had been under Lord Emberly’s protection for more than seven years now. That the peacocks and predators prowling around her were drawn in by the money left to her by her parents. To say that he felt awkward for the role he was currently playing in Miss Jarvis’ life was a mild statement compared to the agony he endured. Prior to this, it had never occurred to him that there could be such a divergence between honor and desire. Or at least, not for himself. How could he be someone who found himself in such a predicament?

  If the butler recognized either his visage or name, there was no indication. The dour servant left him cooling his heels in the foyer for a good ten minutes before fetching him, and silently leading him down soaring hallways, deeper into the house than he had been the day before. The servant bowed him through a tall doorway and withdrew.

  Emberly, or at least a man that John assumed was Emberly, stood upon John’s arrival. The man was younger he might have expected, only in his forties John would guess. “Howards,” the man said, giving a swift appraisal. “The viscount’s youngest?”

  Ah. So now he knew how he had garnered at least this interview. He nodded, not quite trusting his voice. Emberly’s gaze was too sharp, his manner too confident, for John to want to speak up with any alacrity.

  Emberly moved to the sideboard. “A drink, Mr. Howards?”

  If alcohol had the effect of giving him false confidence, John would have agreed without hesitation, even with the earliness of the hour. Instead he simply said, “Whatever you are having, Lord Emberly.” And then congratulated himself on a full sentence without stuttering or even a quake in his voice. You can do this, he told himself. You can do this for Elisa.

  Emberly paused for a moment as if deciding how he wanted to react to John’s response, then poured two tumblers of an amber liquid. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit today?”

  John carefully took his tumbler and sat in the deep leather seat that Emberly indicated. “I wish to court your ward, Miss Jarvis.”

  “You and half the young bucks in the ton,” the older man muttered.

  John took a swallow of the heady liquor. “Is someone courting her now?”

  Emberly tapped the side of his glass. “Not officially. But someone is always trying. She has spent five years now turning up her nose at all the ton has to offer. What makes you think that you are different, Mr. Howards?”

  John felt his confidence dry up under the other man’s skeptical gaze. Emberly conveyed no warmth or sympathy. They might as well have been discussing the sale of wheat. It was evident that he had taken too long to respond when Emberly spoke again.

  “Even you realize that there is no case to be made.” Frowning down into his glass, he added. “Come her next birthday I will have to choose a husband for her if she hasn’t already married.”

  The threat of that set John’s tongue loose. “Why? Why does she need to marry at all?”

  “Her father stipulated it. If she doesn’t marry by her twenty-third birthday she loses her inheritance.”

  “That’s ludicrous, why would he do that?”

  Emberly shrugged. “To ensure she married, I assume.”

  “What a barbaric and heavy-handed way to do it!”

  “Careful, sir, you insult the man who was my best friend.”

  John almost literally bit his tongue. It wasn’t like him to speak up, much less to use strong language. He wasn’t quite sure if it was playing at being Casimir that had loosened his jaw, or simply the idea that Elisa could be forced into a marriage she didn’t want. “My apologies, sir.”

  “Until her birthday, I will still take her preferences into account. But do know that it is also stipulated that I have final approval of who she marries.”

  If John had hoped that his visit this morning might make Emberly his ally in pursuing Elisa’s hand, it looked like he had done just the opposite. And for once in his life was in trouble for speaking, rather than for not speaking. He stood and offered the mostly full glass back to his host. “Thank you for your time.”

  What remained was for him to distinguish himself as a suitor. Hopefully before the full seven days had passed and h
e was due to meet her in Violetta’s garden again.

  Chapter Nine

  “In fact, if you listen carefully enough, everyone is telling you what they want all the time.” ~ Lord Lucifer

  Elisa fanned herself, having decided to sit out the next dance. Fortunately, after all this time her suitors were well-trained to her moods and knew to avoid her when she plied her fan. Little did they know, she actually was deuced hot after the last country dance.

  To her surprise, Lady Spencer appeared at her elbow. “Miss Javis, if I could make an introduction? Miss Jarvis, this is Mr. Howards. Mr. Howards, it is my pleasure to present Miss Jarvis to you.”

  The statuesque blond widow was usually a study of languid grace, but had rushed the introduction as though she had been concerned that Elisa would find some way to refuse it. The gentleman, Mr. Howards, bowed briefly in greeting.

  Elisa recognized him and chuckled. “I thought you knew how to not wear out your welcome, Mr. Howards.”

  The gentleman actually blushed a bit at her gentle rebuke and his eyes didn’t quite meet hers, focusing somewhere on her forehead instead. “The honor of a dance, Miss Jarvis?”

  It was generally considered good form to accept an invitation to dance. But if she accepted him in this instance, then her admirers might believe that her rules had changed. Standing so close to him she could see that he was of a height with Casimir, with a similar set to his shoulders. Perhaps she could imagine that she was dancing with her sophisticated continental beau rather than the typical British gentleman before her. The dancers were assembling on the floor for a waltz and Elisa decided quickly.

  “I would be delighted, Mr. Howards.”

  She could have sworn she heard Lady Spencer give a sigh of relief as she accepted Mr. Howard’s arm to the dance floor. They proceeded as a thousand other dances in her life had proceeded. Mr. Howards was a perfect gentleman and held her at precisely the appropriate distance, with such a light touch of his gloved hand on hers that they might as well not have been touching at all. The hand at her waist was similarly light as gossamer. She couldn’t help but to compare his touch with Casimir’s and find him wanting.

  As he didn’t seem inclined to chat, she began the conversation. “How do you occupy your time, Mr. Howards?”

  “Oh, er... Reading,” he told that spot on her forehead that he had apparently grown quite fond of.

  “Really? Anything that I might have read?”

  His eyes flicked down to meet hers briefly. “I recently finished Waverly.”

  “I’ve recently begun reading it, so you can’t ruin it for me,” she teased.

  That garnered a shy smile from him. “I shall endeavor not to do so.”

  When he smiled he looked almost a bit charming. But that just made her wish for Casimir all the more. Surely, if Casimir had gone to a masque ball he would go to other balls as well? Or could he only go to the ones he could sneak in to?

  She realized that she had been woolgathering. Mr. Howards had not felt any compulsion to break the silence, a mark against him in her book. Then she realized she had been staring at his mouth the entire time and her gaze flew to his own. He seemed amused now, his expression reminding her somewhat of Casimir’s, and his hand at her waist became more certain. No, no, no. The last thing she had meant to do was encourage his attentions. Certainly not to encourage him to think that she found him attractive in any way. What sort of fool took a conversation wherein two people had nearly read the same book to mean anything at all?

  “Have you been to Scotland?” she blurted, making something of a reference to the book they had found in common, since it was set in Scotland.

  “No,” he admitted. She almost rolled her eyes. If he was going to contribute to the conversation one syllable at a time the next fifteen minutes would be interminable.

  “I think I should like to go,” she confided. “I believe I would love traveling.”

  “It is interesting to see other places, but there is a good deal of boredom and discomfort in traveling, as well.”

  At long last! Something that almost sounded like conversation. “I suppose you did a Tour, then?” It was haute riguer for young men to spend a year or more touring the Continent before settling down.

  That garnered something between a snort and a laugh. “No.”

  Back to one syllable. He decidedly did not have the charm of her lover, even if he might have the same reading habits. She decided to brazen on and ignore his lack of contribution. “I think that I should like to tour the continent. There are so many cultures and languages. Indeed, even trips to Egypt and India appeal.”

  “Is that what you really want?”

  His question seemed solemn. Rather than match his earnestness, Elisa laughed lightly. “Someone recently accused me of being adventurous. I suppose I’m thinking they are correct.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of being adventurous,” he admitted.

  Elisa was struck with how perfectly this Mr. Howards represented everything she hated most about English gentlemen. Overly formal, stiff, boring if not boorish, and quiet. Horribly, terribly quiet. She had hoped, based on the comment he had used to barb her other suitors that he would prove more interesting, more like her Casimir. Alas, no. He personified what she most desperately wanted to flee. A man that wouldn’t understand her. A man that would slowly drain her joie de vivre, until she was like every other Society wife and lived to shop for hats because she had nothing else to care about.

  Chapter Ten

  “Note that I am speaking here of lovers, not companions. Do not confuse the two.” ~ Lord Lucifer

  John left Elisa with her cousin, that aging beauty looking at him keenly before he departed. He supposed it wouldn’t be appropriate to walk out of the gathering directly after his only dance, but he currently craved two things he rarely ever wanted. A stiff drink and a friend. It was clear that Miss Jarvis was besotted with a man who didn’t exist. When he played the role of Casimir she practically surrendered herself to him. Had asked him to marry her. Tonight, as himself, she had been reserved and all but dismissed him within a few minutes of their conversation. Although he had hinted at his connection to her, to Casimir, she had missed or ignored his meaning. She continued talking, of course, but her mind was clearly elsewhere and her emotions detached. Her mind had perhaps even been on the man she knew as Casimir. Although, how could he blame her? Given his druthers, Casimir is the friend he would have that stiff drink with tonight. Casimir was everything John wasn’t: charming, confident, and playful. And caring, as well. Few people took the trouble to get to know John, but Casimir had. John knew that was at least partially because his friend had wanted information from the British delegation, but he’d been perfectly honest about that.

  And now John found that he missed having a friend. Someone to play a few rounds of billiards with. Someone who was both entertaining and adept at a comfortable silence. He had never met anyone quite like Casimir before and tended to doubt that he would in the British ton. In fact, the only friend John had ever had was his cousin Violetta. Perhaps a visit to see his cousin was in order. Not that he could breathe a word of his conundrum with Miss Jarvis to her, but it would be good to see a friendly face.

  ***

  “Of course friendship is possible with a woman. Even platonic friendship. But that most likely isn’t why you are reading this book.” ~ Lord Lucifer

  John arrived on Violetta’s step early the next morning. He knew that she was an early riser and often spent the mornings with her children. She had two thus far, the eldest only four years old. Her butler conveyed John to her morning room where indeed the two tykes were playing on the floor at her feet.

  “Good morning, John. So terribly good to see you.” Her smile was genuine, but her fingers moved restlessly through her youngest son’s hair as he played with his blocks. The son she had named John. His elder brother was of course named Harold.

  “It’s terribly good to see you, Violetta,�
� he said honestly. He could finally admit that the cousin he had reluctantly built a friendship with had become dear to him. Something had changed within him, and whether it was due to his service in Vienna or his growing attachment to Elisa he couldn’t say. Or perhaps some combination of those things. He felt more confident, more certain. And it seemed that also allowed him to feel more deeply. He knelt down to greet the boys. “Hullo, Harry. Hullo, Johnny.”

  Blue eyes much like their mother’s looked up at him expectantly. He had always thought it unfair that his cousin had blue eyes while he had plain brown ones. But Elisa had eyes even darker that his own and he would be happy with dark eyed children.

  “You remember Uncle John, Harry?” Violetta said, breaking John’s reverie. Violetta had thought it easier for the boys to refer to him as Uncle John rather than explain the intricacies of cousin connections.

  Harry looked between John and his own brother Johnny. “Unca John?”

  “He gave you that horsey you keep on your shelf,” his mother reminded. A present for the boy’s third birthday. That motivated Harry to stand up and throw his arms around John.

  “Thank you, Unca John!”

  He ruffled Harry’s hair. “I’m glad you like it.”

  Harry turned back to his mother. “Get horsey now?”

  “You decided you wanted to play soldiers today, remember?”

  Harry’s lower lip poked out.

  “It is a fine day for playing with soldiers,” John reassured him.