Scandal of the Season

by Liana Lefey

  Sorin bit the inside of his cheek as the pair sauntered away. He’d not wanted to ignore Eleanor—far from it—but there was no possible way for them to talk safely as long as his mother was present. She knew him too well and saw far too much with her keen eyes. Already he’d been admonished for his distracted state.

  Wherever Eleanor was, there his focus seemed to be fixed and there wasn’t anything he could do to stop it. Especially now, when he didn’t like the look of the fellow upon whose arm she’d just draped herself. The man’s walk was more of a swagger, and his demeanor conceited. He looked a right rogue.

  “That’s young Donald Yarborough, if you’re wondering.”

  Jerking around, he found his mother had come up and was now staring in the same direction he’d been looking. Damn. “Ah, yes. I thought he looked familiar. He was a childhood friend of Eleanor’s, I believe.”

  “I doubt he views her in such benign terms now,” she replied drily. “I hear he is determined to find a bride this Season.”

  The acid-gnawing sensation redoubled in the pit of his stomach. “He’s not the sort of man Ellie would consider.”

  Her lips pursed. “You would know better than most, I’m sure, but Lady Yarborough would never forgive him if he didn’t at least try. The same will likely be true of every unattached, fortune-hungry male in London, until she marries.”

  She was right, he knew. Were Eleanor as homely as a hound, her inheritance would still guarantee a certain level of desirability on the marriage market. Her fortune and beauty combined made her an irresistible target. “Which is why Charles has already enlisted my help to keep an eye on her,” he said quietly. “I’ll see that she does not fall prey to any trickery. If he is a roué, I shall soon learn of it.”

  “I see. And then what?”

  “I’ll inform Charles and he’ll make an end of it.”

  Her soft chuckle startled him. “And when she finds out you’ve gone to her guardian behind her back and sabotaged her chances with him or any other lad for whom she sets her cap, she’ll—”

  “I have no need of subterfuge. I’ll speak openly with them both.”

  “Mmm, and I’m sure she’ll hear every word from the man to whom she gave the cut little more than an hour ago.”

  Taking a deep breath, he counted silently to ten before answering with equanimity, “She has always valued my counsel. She’ll listen to me.”

  An indelicate snort erupted from his mother. “Eleanor is no longer a child to be so easily led, my son. But I think you’ve already discovered that.”

  Her penetrating look sent a guilty flush creeping up his neck.

  “I knew it,” she breathed, a triumphant gleam entering her eyes. “She is the reason you’ve been avoiding Holbrook, not Ashford. I gathered as much when you failed to greet each other this morning.”

  “Mother, I don’t—”

  “There is no point in denying the obvious,” she interrupted, raising a wrinkled hand. “And you need not explain how it came about. Just tell me what happened to cause the rift. Perhaps I can help.”

  “I do not require assistance,” he said, hot with embarrassment. “And there is no need for me to explain anything because there is nothing to explain. We had a difference of opinion. That is all.”

  “Well, it must have been rather a significant one,” she said, arching a brow. “A woman does not cut a man, much less one she considers a friend, unless she has been mightily offended. Come. Tell me. What did you say to elicit such ire?”

  “It was nothing, really,” he said, shrugging. “I simply inquired of her as to why she’d turned down so many proposals. She told me her reasons, and I questioned her logic.”

  “In other words, you behaved like a condescending ass.”

  An exasperated breath exploded from him before he could contain it. “I was not an ass!” Several people turned and frowned. He lowered his voice. “I merely made the observation that her standards, such as they are, are unlikely to be met by any mortal man.”

  “And I suppose you expected her to be grateful to you for offering up your enlightened opinion?”

  “No,” he snapped. “But neither did I expect her to behave in this manner. After all, it was in her best interest that I point out the unrealistic nature of her expectations.”

  “Her best interests…or yours?” she asked lightly.

  Again, the blood rushed to his face. “I wish only for her happiness.”

  “Of course you do.”

  For a moment he thought he’d succeeded in closing the conversation. No such luck.

  “I must assume that you have not informed her concerning the true nature of your regard?” she persisted.

  Oh, bloody hell. “There is nothing of which she need be informed. This is not the first time we have disagreed,” he said, steering the subject back on course. “You know, as well as I, how intractable she can be at times. But I’m confident her irrational ire toward me will dissipate once she comes to acknowledge that I am correct.”

  When she finally spoke, his mother’s voice trembled with barely repressed laughter. “I don’t wonder that she is vexed with you if your attitude was such. My dear boy, you may have traveled the world but you have a great deal to learn about women. Men are not the only ones with pride, you know, and you have sorely wounded hers. You must make amends if you wish to enter back into her good graces.”

  “By make amends, you mean apologize.”

  “Precisely.”

  “I won’t apologize for speaking the truth. She will eventually come to see reason.”

  “Not if that young man has anything to do with it,” she said, nodding at a point beyond his right shoulder.

  Unable to help himself, he looked, and across the green saw Yarborough bend to say something at Eleanor’s ear. A throbbing began at his temples as Yarborough bent closer—without any resulting protest, he noted—and she laughed in response to whatever it was he’d said.

  Pain shot through him. The same suffocating, gut-wrenching pain he’d felt all those years ago when he had watched her effortlessly win the adoration of every man she’d encountered. The same pain he’d hoped never to experience again. Her inheritance might be the lure that first drew them and her beauty the second, but it was her own unique charm, her warm spirit that thereafter held them helplessly prisoner.

  Behind him, he heard a delicate cough. Turning, he found his mother staring at his hands—which were curled into fists at his sides. “You should tell her how you feel.”

  “I cannot,” he blurted, knowing it was useless to try and hide from her anymore.

  “Why ever not?” she asked, frowning. “Surely you don’t believe Ashford would object?”

  “Ashford views me as a brother and trusts me with his family—with Eleanor, whom he has worked tirelessly to shelter from the world’s licentiousness. I’ve worked alongside him in this, such that he asked me to stand in his stead as guardian during her debut. How will he feel when I, whom he has so entrusted all these years, reveal unchaste sentiments toward her? I fear our friendship would not withstand such a betrayal.”

  “Nonsense,” she scoffed. “Once you assure him of your honorable intent, I’m certain he’ll be both understanding and amenable. Doubtless he’d prefer that she marry you over certain others I could name. Friendship is always a desirable state within one’s family.”

  “Even if Ashford were to be agreeable, there is Eleanor herself to consider,” he persisted. “I’m too old to be of interest to her.”

  “Rubbish. Young ladies marry gentlemen twice, sometimes even thrice their age every day and are quite happy. At a mere twelve years her senior—”

  “Nearly thirteen,” he corrected her.

  “You are far short of either mark,” she continued without acknowledging him. “You’ll need a better excuse than that, I’m afraid. Why should she not welcome your suit? She’s known you more than half her life and cares for you greatly.”

  “Yes, she cares—but not
in the way a wife should for a husband. She grew up with me lecturing her on comportment, correcting her every lapse, always urging her to better herself. She once told me I was worse than any governess. I’m not exactly a romantic figure in her mind.”

  “Then you must change how she sees you. But first you must apologize—be sincere and contrite, and pray she accepts it,” she said over his irritated rumble of objection. “And in the future, I would advise you not to criticize a woman’s logic—no matter how flawed you think it is.”

  “Yes, I believe I’ve learned that lesson,” he said with chagrin. “Very well, I’ll apologize. The revelation of my changed sentiments, however, remains a dilemma. I cannot simply propose a different sort of relationship between us.”

  “No indeed. I do not myself entirely understand how you arrived at such feelings considering your long separation from each other, but if I’m surprised by it, it is likely everyone else will be doubly so. If at all possible, it would be better for you to ease slowly into an understanding with her. Achieving your purpose will require great care and discretion.”

  “I will, of course, employ the utmost discretion,” he promised, shocked to hear himself say it. So much for his decision to selflessly refrain from pursuing his heart’s desire. “As for my altered attitude, I believe it can be explained by the letters we’ve been exchanging.” It wasn’t wholly untrue, and he needed some legitimate excuse.

  “Letters?” She frowned again. “What letters?”

  “We exchanged letters while I was abroad—she enclosed her correspondence along with Charles’s. I told her of my travels and she wrote back concerning the happenings here. When I returned, it was as though we’d never been apart.”

  “With the exception that she’s grown now, and into a very beautiful young woman,” she said with a thoughtful nod. “I certainly hope she comes to return your feelings, but you ought to prepare yourself in the event that she does not. The friendship was forged when she was young, and such perceptions as she has concerning you may be difficult or even impossible to overcome.” Her grim expression softened into one of sympathy. “But I suppose you’ve already given that a great deal of thought.”

  “Indeed I have.” Nothing more could be said on the matter without further embarrassment. He cleared his throat. “May I assume, based on this conversation, that she has your approval?”

  “Naturally,” she said in an equally dry manner. “She’s a duke’s daughter and a fine catch. But were she a pauper, I would still grant my blessing.” His surprise must have been evident, for she began to chuckle. “Surely you did not think I would object? I’ve always been fond of the girl.”

  “I thought you had your eye on Lady Billingsley’s daughter?”

  “Given the circumstances, I no longer consider her an appropriate choice—unless of course matters don’t turn out,” she replied, her usual business-like demeanor returning. “Now, I shall leave you to plot your course without further maternal interference.” She shot him a knowing glance as she straightened her hat and veil. “Despite your fears to the contrary, I shan’t act on your behalf unless you specifically request it—and you needn’t look so relieved. There are times when a mother’s meddling can be both useful and effective.”

  “I shall bear it in mind,” he muttered.

  “See that you do,” she replied with a hard glance. “Now, go and rescue her from Yarborough before everyone here thinks them forming an attachment.”

  Chapter Six

  Despite his polished manners and gentlemanly appearance, Donald Yarborough was still an arrogant, puffed-up roisterer. Eleanor’s teeth were already on edge and she hadn’t been subjected to his company for even half an hour. To be fair, her encounter with Sorin—or rather the lack of one—had put her in a black mood, and she was finding it more and more difficult to quash her vexation.

  “I hope you won’t mind if I tell you how lovely you’ve grown since last I saw you,” said Yarborough.

  She didn’t dare tell him how very much she did mind, not while he held her hand prisoner on his arm, at least. Instead, she ducked her head as though embarrassed.

  “I would be dishonest did I not admit it,” he went on. “I cannot tell you how pleased I am that you did not simply walk away earlier. I know I was a terrible trial to you when we were children. I do hope you’ve forgiven me my errors.”

  His smile was very pretty indeed, but one look in his eyes told her his words were nothing more than that—empty words. She remembered with perfect clarity the way he’d tormented her and how he had delighted in her tears. Still, better to have the appearance of friendly relations than open hostility—at this early juncture, at least. “Of course I have. The past is long gone and we are different people now.”

  “Indeed we are,” he said, again letting his eyes wander.

  She felt herself coloring and, looking away, marked the approach of the one person in all the world she wished most to avoid. But unlike earlier, Sorin was looking directly at her now and smiling as though he had not completely ignored her earlier.

  “Hello, Lady Eleanor, and I believe it’s Mister Yarborough, is it not?”

  Beside her, she felt Yarborough stiffen. “Actually, it’s Sir Yarborough now.”

  “I see. Please accept both my apology for the oversight and my condolences to you and your mother for your loss,” said Sorin. “I’ve been away and was unaware you had inherited.”

  “Thank you, Wincanton,” said Yarborough, seemingly mollified. “It is a little more than a year since I took on the burden. But let us not dwell on the melancholy. I’m most pleased to renew your acquaintance. It has been many years since we last greeted each other, has it not?”

  Eleanor had not missed his familiar manner of address—and neither had Sorin. “At least five,” he answered, his flat reply making clear that it had not been nearly long enough.

  “Indeed,” she interjected brightly, hoping to ease the tension. “I wondered whether you would remember each other.”

  Sorin looked to her, a hint of a smile curling one side of his mouth. “His face has not changed so much as to be unrecognizable, and neither am I so old as to have forgotten it.”

  The warmth and humor in his eyes elicited a queer fluttering in her stomach.

  “How happy I am to know that I’m so memorable,” said Yarborough, drawing her a bit closer.

  Instinct made her shrink from the contact before thinking better of it. She kicked herself mentally as Sorin’s gaze sharpened.

  He’d seen. “Lady Eleanor, might I borrow you for a moment to ask your opinion regarding a gift?”

  Her irritation with him evaporated. She’d go anywhere as long as it gave her an excuse to get away from Yarborough. “Oh, a gift? I would be delighted.” But her attempt to ease away from her captor was met with resistance. “What sort of gift?” she asked lightly, as though nothing was amiss.

  “A gift for my mother,” he said, his face hardening as he stared at Yarborough. “Her birthday is next month, and I wish to commission a piece of jewelry for the occasion. Perhaps you and Lady Ashford might be of help?” He offered his arm and waited.

  With ill-concealed reluctance, Yarborough at last let her go.

  Relieved, Eleanor quickly transferred her hand to Sorin’s sleeve, where it received a quick, reassuring pat. Well, it would have been reassuring—had it not been for the blossoming warmth his touch left behind. So unsettling was the sensation that when they turned to depart, she missed her step and had to hop in a most undignified manner to right herself. Sorin, thank heaven, appeared not to notice. She glanced over her shoulder, hoping Yarborough had already turned away, only to have her hopes dashed.

  “I shall see you again soon,” he called, grinning. “If not here, then certainly in London.”

  Such presumption! “I shall be sure to tell my cousin to look for you,” she called back, hoping she sounded cheery. She would warn Charles about him at the first opportunity.

  Sorin chose that mo
ment to lengthen his stride, forcing her to almost run to keep up. A faint, smothered sound beside her made her look up at him. His lips were quivering. The devil was laughing! “And what has you so amused?” She winced. That had come out as sour as lemon juice.

  “That young man looked quite put out at my intrusion. I do hope I was not interrupting anything of import?”

  “Not at all,” she said, discomfited to find her face growing hot beneath his gaze. “Sir Yarborough and I were merely becoming reacquainted.”

  He held her eyes a moment longer before looking away. “I admit I was surprised to see you behaving so amicably toward him. As I recall, you both spent much of your youth at odds. I suppose it is yet another mark of your maturity that you’re able to set aside the past and conduct a civil conversation with an old enemy. I do hope such patience extends to those you consider your friends.” Before she could compose a reply, he stopped and faced her, his voice lowering to a quiet rasp. “I could not fail to notice your cool demeanor toward me this morning, Ellie.”

  Despite having every intention of concealing her hurt, it poured out unchecked. “Mine? What of yours? I might as well have been made of glass the way you looked right through me. I’ve never felt so small and inconsequential, or so—”

  “Such was not my intent, I assure you.”

  “Well, it certainly seemed so from my perspective.” Her voice shook almost as much as her knees. He was near enough that she could see the flecks of gold in his hazel eyes. The silence stretched as, to her amazement, he appeared to struggle for words.

  “I had no right to question your judgment,” he finally said. “I can only ask your forgiveness and promise you it will never happen again. As for this morning, I was quite simply at a loss as to how to conduct myself in your presence after my egregious behavior. Please accept my most humble apology for both offenses.”

  After a moment, she realized her mouth was hanging open. “Of course,” she answered weakly, flabbergasted by his awkward admission.