Scandalous Scoundrels

by Aileen Fish

“Morning?” Viscount Talbot came to stand beside her father on the landing. “It’s near afternoon!”

  “Oh, leave the poor girl be,” Margaret exclaimed as she joined them. “Emily Ann you come in and have a bite to eat. Cook saved you a coddled egg and a bit of ham.”

  Emily looked from her aunt’s smiling face to the two gentlemen beside her who appeared ready to burst into a fit of glee. Something odd was going on and she had the sneaking suspicion she knew just what it was.

  “Where’s Nicholas?” Emily skirted around her grinning father and Lord Talbot to follow her aunt into the dining room.

  “The lot of them went into the village,” Margaret replied. “Seems the ladies wanted to do a spot of shopping and the gentlemen were wrangled into escorting them. Only those two idiots stayed behind to entertain me.”

  Emily ate a plate of eggs and ham while her aunt sat beside her regaling her with tales of the strange goings on during the night.

  “I was awoken to the sounds of doors opening and closing up and down the hall all night,” she complained. “I finally sent Andy to investigate and who do you suppose he saw creeping around in the dark?”

  “Who?” Emily asked.

  “The Nasty Baggage, that’s who.”

  “Really? What was she doing?”

  “I haven’t the faintest idea,” Margaret replied. “But one would suppose she was either on her way to a gentleman’s room or returning from one.”

  “Whose?”

  “Well now that’s the question. I would conjecture it was either Mr. Kildare or Mr. Boone.”

  “Not Mr. Boone, surely,” Emily argued, trying to picture the jovial older man with Veronica Ogilvie in his arms.

  “Oh, I don’t know. He’s the brother of an Earl. She would gain entrance to all the finest homes as his wife.”

  “But he’s so…”

  “Old?” Margaret finished for her. “Fat?”

  “Well, yes,” Emily admitted.

  “He’s a cheerful fellow who would give her the world,” Margaret replied. “And he has deuced large hands.”

  “What on earth is your fascination with gentlemen’s hands?” Emily demanded on a huff of laughter.

  “Don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out yet, Em,” Margaret replied with a lift of her brow. “I know where Nicholas has been spending his nights.”

  “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Emily exclaimed.

  “Oh, don’t pretend the innocent with me,” Margaret admonished. “I know everything that goes on in this house.”

  “You don’t know whose room Ronnie O was visiting.”

  “I will before the day is over. And don’t think to change the subject.”

  “What subject would that be?” Emily asked innocently.

  “The one in which you thank me,” Margaret replied cheerfully.

  “And just what should I be thanking you for?”

  “Why, for matching you with a handsome young man with large hands.”

  “What on earth are you…?” Emily stopped on a gasp. “You mean his hands…and his… Well… One has to do with the other?”

  Margaret erupted into giggles, her eyes sparkling, her hands fluttering around her bosom. “Oh, Em, you are priceless, dearest.”

  “Well, how would I know such a thing?” Emily demanded indignantly. “And anyway, we are not matched yet.”

  “Emily, Nicholas spoke with your father this morning,” Margaret replied carefully.

  “He did?” She wasn’t certain why the news surprised her. She’d promised to marry him, had gifted him with her virginity. Still, she’d thought… Well she didn’t know what she’d thought.

  “Nicholas did propose to you, didn’t he?” Margaret asked.

  “Yes, but...”

  “And you accepted?”

  “Yes, but…”

  “It naturally follows that he would speak with your father.”

  “Yes, but…”

  “Honestly, Emily, Nicholas is a gentleman. Of course he asked Charlie for your hand.”

  “Of course,” Emily agreed. “I just didn’t realize he intended to do so today. We hadn’t discussed when we would make the announcement or how.”

  “Emily, this little party is nearly over,” Margaret pointed out patiently. “In three days we will all be heading back to Town.”

  “I know,” Emily murmured.

  “The Avery family’s creditors are likely lined up on their doorstep waiting even now,” her aunt said. “Nicholas simply cannot return without some promise of future payment to offer them.”

  Emily was startled by the reminder of Nicholas’s need for her fortune. Somehow she’d allowed herself to forget the financial elements of their courtship. She’d been so caught up in the passion she’d discovered in his arms that she’d simply forgotten his family’s need for a hasty marriage and a hefty settlement.

  “You know Nicholas cares for you,” Lady Margaret said when her niece only looked at her without replying.

  “I know,” Emily agreed. “He loves me.”

  “He’s told you, then?” her aunt asked softly.

  “Yes.”

  Margaret let out a shaky breath, a wide smile transforming her face. “So, it’s settled then. We’ll make the announcement tonight at dinner.”

  “Could we not wait until the final night of the house party?”

  “Whatever for?”

  “I want to tell Nicholas about my fall into the laudanum bottle before things are set in stone, so he has the chance to call off the marriage should he choose to do so.” Emily’s words came out in a rush lest she lose the courage to speak them.

  “He will not change his mind,” Margaret declared firmly and Emily wished she shared her aunt’s confidence.

  “All the same,” she replied. “I ought to give him the opportunity and I will, just as soon as I work up the nerve. I only hope Da and Lord Talbot can contain themselves until I do.”

  “You leave Charlie and Andy to me,” Margaret said. “I’ll take them aside for a word. They’ll behave themselves or have me to answer to.”

  “Thank you.” Emily squeezed her aunt’s hand where it rested on the table between them.

  “Hush, there’s nothing I like better than taking those two recalcitrant boys to task,” Margaret responded as they rose to their feet.

  “To be sure, I know it will be the highlight of your day.” Emily turned from her aunt and called out over her shoulder, “But that wasn’t what I was thanking you for.”

  “No?”

  “Lady Maggie went to town, to find her niece a husband, never mind what’s in his hat, he has wonderfully large hands!” Emily sang out to the tune of “Yankee Doodle” as she left the dining room.

  Lady Margaret’s rollicking laughter followed her through the doorway when she turned into the hall and came face to face with the other party-goers returning from their journey to town.

  Lady Bernice stumbled to a halt beside Nicholas, causing Lucinda Davis to plow into her back.

  “Oh, pardon me,” Lucinda cried, her face flaming and her china-doll eyes wide.

  “Sorry,” Bernice mumbled as she stepped aside.

  “Large hands?” Mary Endicott murmured, her gaze falling to Nick’s hands hanging down at his sides.

  Mr. Kildare barked out a laugh, attempted to turn it into a cough, his brown eyes crinkling as they met Emily’s horrified gaze. Heat washed over her and spots danced before her eyes.

  “Lands,” Mrs. Sanderson called out. “Mr. Avery has wonderfully large lands!”

  “To the North, I believe,” the Duchess of Martindale was quick to add.

  “Right you are, my lady,” Mr. Endicott bellowed. “A large estate somewhere near Derbyshire.”

  “I don’t know about any lands to the North,” Veronica Ogilvie drawled, her mocking glance taking in Emily’s flushed cheeks. “But Mr. Avery does possess inordinately large hands.”

  Nicholas sucked in a deep breath, snapped his mouth shut
and closed his eyes. He stood perfectly still for three beats of Emily’s heart and then his eyes popped open, he threw his head back and let loose a roar of laughter. His rumbling laughter reverberated around the hall, bouncing off the walls, echoing to the ceiling and back down to ricochet off the marble floor. His wide shoulders shook with it, his chest rising and falling as he tried to gain control of his merriment.

  Emily attempted to recover her composure, she truly did. She sucked in her cheeks, bit her bottom lip and looked away from her laughing fiancé, all in an unsuccessful attempt to recapture what little dignity she could. It was no use.

  Tears rushed to her eyes, her lower lip began to tremble and her shoulders began to shake. Emotion bubbled up in her chest, traveled up her throat, pushed against her puckered lips. With a strangled cry, she spun away from the shocked eyes of her friends, took two wobbly steps and reached one shaking hand out to rest on the wall beside her.

  “Emily!” Nick called to her, his voice unsteady as he tried valiantly to contain his amusement.

  Emily gave up the battle. With an unladylike snort, she exploded into a fit of giggles that stole her breath, sent tears streaming down her cheeks and set her entire frame to shaking.

  From behind her she heard Bernice let out an amused cackle that sent Emily into further hilarity until she doubled over, clutching her belly.

  Pandemonium ensued as embarrassed and exasperated parents tried to herd their innocent daughters from the hall. Into the front parlor and up the stairs, Emily heard the pitter patter of dainty feet and whispered questions.

  “What just happened?” Lucinda Davis whispered.

  “Why was she singing about his hands?” Mary Endicott asked.

  Turning her head, Emily watched through blurry eyes as Mr. Endicott ushered his daughter into the parlor before tossing her an amused look and softly closing the door.

  “Emily,” Nicholas groaned around the remnants of a raspy laugh. He dashed a hand across his eyes and walked slowly to where she stood leaning against the wall.

  “I…” she began, but the sight of his laughing eyes and flushed cheeks set her off again. She turned and fell against his chest, burying her flaming face against his shirt as laughter tumbled from her lips once more. His arms came around her and he pulled her into a tight embrace. They stood wrapped in one another’s arms, rocking back and forth, giggling like two school children, lost in their own little world of happiness and shared humor. Neither noticed their fathers turning away to wander down the hall toward the library for a celebratory three fingers of Margaret’s best Irish whiskey.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  What followed were two of the strangest days of Nicholas Avery’s life. No sooner had he and Emily mastered their amusement over her badly timed rendition of the old battle lark, then Lady Margaret rounded the corner and found them locked in a heated embrace.

  “Good Lord, haven’t you two caused enough mischief for one day?” she demanded in feigned annoyance.

  Reluctantly, Nick lifted his lips from Emily’s and peeled her from the wall onto which he’d plastered her with his body. He trailed his hand down her arm to clasp her hand snuggly in his, unwilling to release her entirely.

  “I doubt very much any of the ladies had the faintest idea what I was singing about,” Emily said with a negligent shrug of her shoulders.

  “The Nasty Baggage certainly made the connection,” Margaret replied. “Mr. Boone has remarkably large hands.”

  “So it was Mr. Boone?” Emily exclaimed. Nick hadn’t the foggiest idea what the ladies were discussing but his betrothed seemed quite shocked.

  “Judging by the purely ridiculous grin he’s been sporting all morning,” Margaret responded. “I’m guessing they’ll make an announcement of their own in the coming days.”

  “Poor Ronnie,” Emily murmured.

  “Save your sympathy for Gerald Boone,” Margaret replied.

  “Boone and Miss Ogilvie?” Nick asked in surprise.

  “Good Lord, Nick, try to keep up,” Margaret reprimanded him. “You’re nearly as slow as your brother today.”

  Nick released Emily’s hand and advanced on Lady Margaret. He placed his hands on her cheeks, ignored her surprised yelp and pressed a loud smacking kiss to her lips.

  “Thank you.” He met her shocked green gaze, held it.

  “Yes… Well… I…” she stammered and he heard Emily’s soft laughter behind him.

  “Truly, from the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

  “You’re not going to break into song are you?” Margaret asked, her soft cheeks warming beneath his hands.

  “I just might,” he replied as he dropped his hands to his sides. Emily came up beside him and tucked her hand into his.

  “I’d greatly appreciate it if you did not,” Margaret replied archly. “Who knows what lyrics would likely fall from your lips.”

  “What rhymes with breast?” Nick teased.

  “Hush,” Emily and her aunt ordered together.

  Nicholas spent the remainder of the afternoon attempting to lure Emily into empty rooms and avoiding the accusing gazes of the Duchess of Martindale and Mrs. Sanderson. Every time he remembered the beat of startled silence when Emily turned into the hall with the last note of her impromptu serenade ringing out, he chuckled. He laughed outright remembering the ladies’ improvised rewriting of the lyrics. Wonderfully large lands to the North, indeed.

  Emily Ann Calvert was the sassiest, sweetest, funniest, warmest and most passionate woman he’d ever encountered. And she was going to be his wife. He was going to spend the rest of his life talking and teasing and laughing with her. And loving her. Good Lord, how he loved her.

  He’d meant what he’d said to her the morning they’d ridden out together through the swirling fog. He could live to be a hundred and still not truly know her. She was a wonderfully complicated lady. Sometimes she was bossy, so sure of herself, so confident in her abilities, so blessedly aware of her worth. Other times she seemed little more than a confused young girl trying desperately to figure out where she fit into the world.

  She had a temper, one he’d only seen glimpses of thus far. Still, he knew without a doubt it was there. It went without saying that they would argue. He pictured a future peppered with the occasional screaming match. But he also knew she was quick to forgive, that holding a grudge went against her very nature, as evidenced by her repeated forgiveness of his many missteps throughout his courtship.

  He knew there were scars on her heart, secrets she held close. He looked forward to the day she would lay her heart bare to him, trust him with the mystery of how she came by the jagged circle and the tail that slashed across her chest like a comet. He knew instinctively that the scars on her person were intrinsically connected to the scars on her heart.

  “Why have the servants moved you to a room down the hall?” Emily whispered that evening when the gentlemen joined the ladies in the parlor after dinner.

  They were standing together beside the pianoforte ruffling through the music sheets ostensibly deciding upon a selection for Emily to entertain her aunt’s guests. In reality, Nicholas was trailing his fingers over her delicate hand and wrist.

  “Your father’s idea,” he replied softly. “He seems to think our close proximity might lead to gossip.”

  “To be sure, Da always has been one for closing the barn doors after the stallion’s run amok,” she drawled.

  “So I’m back to being a stallion, am I?”

  “My stallion,” she murmured with a wicked glint in her eyes.

  “Does that make you my broad mare?”

  “Your only broad mare.”

  “Em, my girl!” her father bellowed from across the room. “Are you going to play for us?”

  “Yes, Da,” she called out. “I fancy a rollicking reel.”

  True to her words, Emily played a spirited country song that called a number of dancers to the space that had been cleared in the middle of the parlor. Without Jamison and the
Parker twins there were few gentlemen to partner the ladies and Nick looked behind him to see Miss Ogilvie sitting alone on the settee, her face turned away from the dancers before her.

  “Go on,” Emily urged him over the tinkling of the piano keys.

  “May I have this dance?” he asked as he bowed before the tense lady. She turned her head and blinked up at him, her lips lifting into a smile that contained an odd sort of wariness, perhaps even a bit of panic. Before he could interpret the expression, it disappeared and she was her usual calculating self.

  “It would seem your financial difficulties shall soon be coming to an end,” Veronica said as they moved to join the line of dancers.

  Nick had no time to reply to her statement before they were parted by the changing of partners.

  “I thought to hear the announcement this evening,” Veronica picked up her earlier conversation when they came together once more.

  Nick made no reply, not the least inclined to discuss his relationship with Emily with this waspish woman who did nothing to hide her animosity toward his fiancé.

  Emily had requested they wait until the last night of the house party to announce their betrothal and, suspecting she needed the extra time to marshal the nerve to share the secret she held close to her hear, Nick had agreed.

  “Ah, not quite set in stone, then?” Veronica murmured with a twist of her lips.

  Nick wordlessly released her into Mr. Endicott’s arms and smiled down at Lucinda Davis.

  “We are all on pins and needles,” Lucinda said, smiling up into his face.

  Nick groaned.

  “Mother is forcing us to wait to make our announcement until after yours,” she continued with a giggle. “So as not to steal your thunder.”

  “Congratulations,” Nick said with real pleasure.

  “And to you,” she responded before turning to take Kildare’s hand once more.

  “I think you would find me a more complacent wife,” Veronica whispered as she pretended to stumble, brushing her breasts fleetingly against his chest before stepping back again.

  “You believe I want a complacent wife?” Nick asked.

  “I doubt Miss Calvert would turn a blind eye to your pursuits.”