Seeking Scandal (Ranford Series Book 2)

by Nadine Millard

  His words warmed her heart, her skin, her very blood.

  Feeling a boldness born of love and sheer desperation, she grasped his neck and pulled his head towards hers.

  "I would not want you to stop," she said before their lips met.

  And meet they did, in a kiss that branded itself onto her heart.

  It felt like a fusion of their spirits, like a beginning of something life-altering. Something so wonderful she hardly dared to believe it.

  They were on the precipice of a cliff. All it would take was for her to open her heart. To tell him how she felt and what she wanted.

  "Tom—"

  "Caroline—"

  They spoke at the same time and laughed a little.

  Strangely, she did not feel scared or nervous. All she felt was love and confidence that this time she could do it right. And have everything she had ever wanted.

  "What did you want to say?" he asked softly, caressing her cheek.

  "I—"

  "There you are."

  Caroline nearly swore at Charles' untimely interruption. Tom did swear. A lot.

  "What are you doing, hiding away here? Your guests will be looking for you and dinner is fast approaching."

  Although her brother remained his usual, friendly self, there was steel in his blue eyes as he took in the scene before him.

  She and Tom had sprung apart as soon as they'd heard his voice but Caroline could not be sure how much Charles had seen.

  They were spared any further questioning, thank goodness, by the arrival of Rebecca looking stunningly beautiful in an unusual bronze coloured gown.

  "Caroline, there you are. Oh, my dear you look positively enchanting," she bustled over and grasped her sister, turning back toward the door.

  "Tom dear, do hurry up. Your guests have already gone straight to change for dinner. You men! I do not know how you manage to get ready for a dinner party in under five minutes but there you have it."

  "Caroline," Tom called out to her but before she had the chance to turn around, Charles had clapped Tom on the shoulder, and from the sounds of it rather harder than necessary, and stopped him from following after her.

  "Come Tom, let's have a drink before dinner."

  It seemed her siblings were conspiring to keep her from Tom. But why?

  As soon as the ladies were outside the conservatory and walking back toward the drawing room where the guests would congregate Caroline turned to Rebecca.

  "What on earth was that about? Did you enlist Charles' help to keep Tom and me apart?"

  "Not exactly," replied Rebecca, "Charles does not want you together any more than I do."

  Caroline stopped and turned to stare at her sister.

  "Why?"

  "Because he is your brother and you are unmarried. You should not be alone in a conservatory. Besides, he knows Tom's reputation, since it is so similar to his own," she finished dryly.

  "No, I meant why do you not want us together?"

  "You know why. We spoke of this before. I was happy for you to have a little flirtation with him but I have not forgotten, even if you have, that if you do not find a husband and do so soon, you will end up leg shackled to that ancient creature, Lord Doncastle."

  "But, Rebecca I think — I mean, I am not sure of course, but I hope that I shall be able to marry T—"

  "And besides," Rebecca continued over her sister's protestations, "Tom has gone to all this trouble to gather up some suitable gentlemen for you. The least you can do is give them a chance."

  Caroline felt as though all of the air left her body in one whoosh. It could not be true, could it?

  While she was building up the courage to tell him that she loved him still and wanted a second chance, he was telling her that he was trying to marry her off?

  "What do you mean?" she asked, her voice quivering, praying that she was mistaken in what Rebecca was telling her.

  "That Tom has made sure to invite young, unattached, titled gentlemen. It was all put in place in London."

  Rebecca saw Caroline's sudden change in pallor, saw the tears glistening in her eyes that she tried valiantly to hide.

  "Caro, it does not mean that he doesn't care for you. He just—"

  "He just doesn't love me. Or forgive me. Not enough to consider — well, never mind," she did her best to rally, to ignore the crushing pain coursing through her. "Come along, they shall be waiting."

  "Caro—"

  "Leave it, Rebecca," she said softly.

  Why had she let herself believe? Hope? All this time, he'd been waiting for someone to come and take her off his hands.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  TOM SPENT ALMOST the entire evening cursing himself, Rebecca, Charles, and anyone else he could think of straight to Hell.

  If Charles hadn't interrupted them, would he have had the courage to confess his love? And what had she wanted to say? His heart told him that she loved him too, perhaps enough to fight for them this time. His head told him to stop being such a fool. Again.

  But right now, he had a more pressing problem in the form of the gentlemen vying for her attention.

  What the hell had he been thinking? Inviting men here who were going to fall in love with her?

  Perhaps they wouldn't be interested, he thought desperately, then called himself all kinds of idiot.

  Of course they would be interested. Who wouldn't be? She was magnificent.

  Tom took another swig of his wine. At this point, he had stopped even trying to engage in the conversation that was surrounding him. Instead, he concentrated all his efforts on watching her and the baying hounds surrounding her, hunting for her attention.

  It was maddening.

  Looking over, he caught Edward's look of sympathy. What good was sympathy? Sympathy would not turn back time and prevent him from inviting them.

  Tom looked down the table assessing his guests once more. This evening was a predominantly male party since all of his guests had not yet arrived. The rest would come tomorrow.

  He had invited the vicar and his wife this evening thinking that at least the vicar's wife was another female to add to the party. Though he should not have bothered, since Edward only had eyes for Rebecca as always, Charlotte and Charles were bordering on inappropriate, and everyone else, including him, was hell bent on getting Caroline's attention.

  When he and Charles had finally made it to the drawing room, one look at Caroline's pale face and hurt expression had confirmed his fears — she knew what he had done.

  But she didn't know why. He had been forced to, against his will. It was Rebecca's fault.

  And besides, he hadn't known then how utterly captivated by her he was going to become again. How little his pride and fear of rejection seemed to matter anymore when faced with the idea of losing her again.

  Dinner was excruciating. For him anyway. He watched as Lord Deverill, an old school friend, ate her up with his eyes.

  He listened as Lord Boxley, a man he knew from Whites, threw simpering compliments at her every two minutes.

  It was nauseating. And she did not seem particularly happy about it.

  And tomorrow would be worse, because tomorrow Hadley would arrive with his irritating sister and unattached female cousin and would either take up where he had left off, trying to win Caroline's affection, or would immediately tell everyone what had transpired the night Caroline had gotten drunk.

  At the time it had seemed a good idea to invite him. Tom was still fairly confident that Edward had scared the wits out of the man enough that he would keep his mouth shut, and inviting him would hopefully flatter him enough not to want to cause any problems or upset to any of them.

  If not, Tom would take great pleasure in shutting it for him. And of course, now Charles was here too, so he had no great concern that Hadley would try to get away with saying anything.

  He felt the beginnings of a headache. She would not even look at him, for God's sake.

  Mercifully, the meal had now come to a
n end so the ladies would retire to the drawing room and he would not have to endure the spectacle of grown men acting like lovesick puppies.

  As the ladies traipsed out, Tom watched Caroline hoping to catch her eye. Right before she left, she looked at him as if she couldn't help it.

  It was the briefest of glances but was filled with such pain that it caused him pain.

  The footmen began to dole out port and cigars, which the gentlemen readily accepted.

  Edward, who was sitting on Tom's right, leaned over and spoke quietly.

  "You look like you are ready to punch someone. Or something. I take it this is to do with Caroline?"

  Tom sighed then swore softly, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

  "Why did I think I could survive this? What if she forms an attachment to one of these idiots? Right here, under my nose."

  "It wasn't your fault. Believe me, nobody knows more than I that Rebecca is impossible to say 'no' to."

  "Yes, well I should have."

  "Why?"

  Tom stared at him.

  "What do you mean, why?"

  "Why not have them here? Why not let her meet and fall in love with someone? It will be a damn sight better than being tied to that bumbling old man, Doncastle will it not?"

  "Well, of course it will."

  "Then why not sit back and hope that she falls in love with one of them?"

  "Because."

  "Because why?"

  "Leave it, Edward."

  "No. I'm interested. Why shouldn't she set her cap at one of them?"

  "Because I love her, dammit," Tom burst out in a fierce whisper.

  Edward leaned back in his chair and smiled.

  "Yes," he drawled, "I know."

  Tom groaned.

  "What am I going to do? She won't talk to me now. Not when she thinks I've tried to marry her off."

  "Surely she will be flattered by your help."

  Tom thought back to their kisses, their half conversations as if they were both on the edge of admitting something wonderful.

  "No," he said sadly, "if anything, she will feel betrayed."

  "Then you must speak to her and explain yourself."

  "Explain yourself to whom?" Charles had caught the tail end of their conversation and spoke up, drawing the attention of the rest of the gentlemen.

  "It is nothing," Edward said quickly, "something to do with my mother." The lie fell easily from his mouth but Charles was clearly not fooled, if his sardonic expression was anything to go by.

  "I thought you were speaking of my sister," he said boldly.

  He stared at Tom and Tom stared right back, refusing to look guilty. He had done nothing wrong. Except hurt her terribly and make her feel as though she had been betrayed by him, of course.

  "Ah, your sister," slurred Boxley, who had obviously partaken of a lot of wine with dinner, "forgive me Carrington but she is quite extraordinarily beautiful."

  Charles merely smiled and nodded but Tom felt his blood pressure increase instantaneously.

  "Yes, quite so," this from Deverill who was so pompous Tom wondered why they were even friends. "A fine catch."

  "She's not a fish," he said coldly.

  Boxley laughed aloud.

  "Of course not, old chap. Of course not. A fish indeed. No, no." Here his tone became lascivious and Tom had to clench his fists to keep from lashing out. "She is all woman, to be sure."

  Tom noticed, in his peripheral vision, both Edward and Charles stiffen almost imperceptibly. Boxley was on dangerous ground.

  "Of course, it must run in the family," he continued, oblivious to his precarious situation, "Your duchess is equally beautiful, your grace," he said to Edward now. "But since you snatched her up quick smart, we'll have to fight it out now for the other one."

  Tom was going to kill him. And enjoy it. By the looks of things, he'd be fighting Charles to get to this stupid man first.

  "And let's not forget the charms of the lovely Miss Noble," drawled Deverill. "Truly, Crawdon, you have done exceptionally well with the offerings at this party."

  Freddie Noble spoke up now, though he seemed decidedly less bothered by the insolent young lords than the other gentlemen.

  "Should we join the ladies?" he asked, before any punches were thrown.

  "Excellent idea," said Tom quickly, jumping up from his chair and practically running from the room. The sooner he could speak to Caroline the better he would feel.

  As soon as the gentlemen entered the drawing room, his eyes scanned the ladies present. She wasn't here.

  He looked toward Rebecca with a questioning frown. She looked utterly miserable.

  "Where is she?" he asked without preamble.

  "She—she had a sudden headache and has retired early, with her apologies."

  He knew Rebecca didn't believe that, any more than he did.

  "This is a disaster," he said miserably, slumping into the empty seat beside her.

  Rebecca sighed and bit her lip, as if to stop herself from saying something.

  Tom narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

  "What?" he asked.

  "What?" she repeated with wide-eyed innocence. Except he knew her so he wasn't fooled.

  "What did you do?"

  "Me?" she flared defensively.

  "Yes, you. You look guilty. What did you do, or say or—or…" He trailed off to silence.

  He was probably being unfair to Rebecca. She didn't have to do anything really did she? Wouldn't it be obvious to Caroline what had happened? Why these gentlemen were here?

  No, he shouldn't blame her. He would apologise, be kind and—

  "I told her you have handpicked gentlemen to marry her."

  —and kill her.

  "You did what?" he roared, which brought a sudden halt to the other conversations taking place in the room.

  Edward marched over, his eyes stormy as he looked furiously between them.

  "What the hell are you doing, shouting at Rebecca?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

  "Calm down, Edward, it is quite alright," said Rebecca, rolling her eyes slightly. "Really there is no need for you to come charging over every time someone shouts at me. I'm always being shouted at, or at least I was in the past. It does not bother me in the slightest."

  "Well it bothers me," he answered still looking at Tom. "I won't have anyone disrespecting my wife."

  Tom bit back a curse of frustration and chose to ignore Edward completely. If the man thought his duchess was a delicate little flower, he was very much mistaken.

  "Tom," Rebecca recalled his attention to her, "I told her, but not to cause any sort of distress. I had no idea that an arrangement existed between you."

  She was watching him closely, her dark brown eyes so different from her sister's icy blue. Yet still having the ability to scare him when they looked so shrewdly at him.

  "We're not, that is to say we, I–I–" Eventually he just sighed in defeat. "There is no arrangement."

  "But you wish there was?"

  She was relentless.

  "Look, I just need to speak to her. To explain. I invited these blasted idiots here before—"

  "Before what?"

  He'd already told Edward he still loved her. What was he going to do? Tell the entire English countryside before he spoke to Caroline?

  "Before she marries one of them and regrets it."

  That would have to do for now.

  But, he forgot, this was Rebecca.

  "Why do you think she would regret it? They are perfectly respectable men, the type my father would definitely approve of."

  Tom felt the last of his control slip.

  Yes, her father would approve of their titles. But there wasn't a man in the world that would love her as much as he would.

  He would run to the furthest reaches of the earth before he would watch her tie herself to someone so undeserving of her.

  They didn't know her. Not the real her. They only knew the façade. Beautiful as
it was. Nobody had ever thought to delve deeper.

  But they didn't know that she had at least four different smiles. Didn't know that when she was excited or nervous, her breath hitched slightly. They didn't know she bit her lip to stop herself from laughing when she thought it was improper to do so.

  They didn't know her heart. Her hopes, dreams, fears, and insecurities. He knew. Knew them all and he adored them because they were what made her who she was.

  That was what she deserved. Not a meaningless title.

  He hadn't fought hard enough two years ago. He saw that now. He had walked away because his pride had been hurt. But his pride could go to hell. He didn't want it. He just wanted her.

  Yes, he would leave if she chose another. But not in anger. He would leave because he would not survive seeing her with another man.

  He needed to fight. Both their futures depended on it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  "YOU CANNOT BE SERIOUS, Caro," Rebecca remonstrated, "you cannot hide in your room all week."

  "I have no intentions of hiding in my room all week," Caroline assured her, "I just do not want to come down to breakfast."

  Caroline had awoken that morning feeling tired and heart-sore. She had cried herself to sleep last night and was sure that her face was showing the effects of it this morning.

  Her eyes felt puffy, her throat dry, and her head pounded.

  Although it did not feel as bad as her recovery from over-indulgence of champagne, it wasn't far off.

  When Sally had come in to coax her from bed, Caroline had refused and begged for a tray in her room.

  The tray had arrived all right, but so too had her sister.

  "Hiding from them won't make them go away, you know," Rebecca said stoutly.

  Caroline sighed.

  "Yes, Becca. I am aware of that."

  Rebecca said nothing for a while, just gazed casually round the room while Caroline sipped on her morning chocolate.

  "He was terribly distraught, you know."

  Rebecca was trying to draw Caroline in, to get her to show an interest. But she felt too raw to discuss anything now.

  Besides, she didn't care enough to ask…

  "Who was?" she asked quietly, wanting to kick herself.

  "Tom, of course."