Scandal of the Season

by Liana Lefey

But Caroline wasn’t done yet. “I long to remain, too,” she added lightly. “However, with a male cousin who is to inherit everything and two younger sisters to help bring out before he does so, I’ve no choice but to leave.”

  Beside him, Eleanor stopped in her tracks and turned, aghast. “Oh, Caroline, I’m so sorry. I sometimes forget that—”

  “Please don’t,” interrupted Caroline, her expression stoic. “It is simply the way of things for those of us without the means to do as we please.” Her mournful eyes turned to Sorin. “But my humble upbringing has prepared me for the inevitable.”

  He would have laughed at her artifice if he’d known it wouldn’t anger Eleanor, who in her undeserved chagrin no doubt felt a complete louse. The thought of her suffering any distress over such an obvious attempt to garner sympathy peeved him. “A humble upbringing is no cause for shame,” he said, much to Caroline’s delight. “Indeed, I believe it will be a great asset to you, Miss Caroline. Your future husband will no doubt appreciate your sense of economy when it comes to the judicious employment of his income.”

  His inference must have hit the mark dead on, for her mouth dropped open just as he turned back to Eleanor. He pretended he hadn’t noticed. “I do hope your cook saw fit to make some of those strawberry tartlets I so love,” he said quietly. “I confess that I missed them almost as much as I did home.”

  “Oh, I—I believe she did,” said Eleanor, half turning to look behind her, obviously still concerned for her friend.

  “One day, I shall find a way to woo that talented woman over to Holly Hall,” he said, calling her attention back again.

  “Ah, but then you would have one less reason to come and visit us,” she said, the smile returning to her eyes.

  “I need no such impetus. The pleasure of your company is quite enough to bring me here.” It was bold and flirtatious, and he marked how her cheeks pinked at the compliment.

  Before she could answer, they rounded the corner and entered the drawing room where Charles was waiting, a glass of brandy in hand. “Ah, here you are! I hope you’re prepared for an evening of culinary delights. The table is fairly groaning from supporting such a feast, and I’ve broken out the best of my brandy to wash it down.”

  Rowena swept in. “Yes, and I see you’ve decided to precede the meal with it as well. Good evening, everyone. I do hope you will pardon the delay. Our other guest has not yet arrived.”

  “Late in the coming, as usual,” chuckled Charles, avoiding his wife’s gaze as he drained the last of the brandy from his glass. “Marston always did like to make an entrance.”

  “Is Marston to join us, then?” Sorin asked, grinning. A retired Master and Commander in the Royal Navy, James Marston was a good friend. The gentleman had been in command of the first ship to take him from England, and they’d become fast friends on the journey. Upon leaving the service after the war, he had come to live in Somerset because Sorin had described it as a paradise—and it was within a day’s journey of the sea. “I did not see him here last week and assumed he’d gone off to London early.”

  Rowena shook her head. “He was unfortunate enough to be laid up with a cold and missed the festivities.”

  “But I’m here now and ready to make amends,” said a man’s voice from the doorway.

  Sorin turned with gladness. “Well met again, Marston! It seems an age since we last saw each other.”

  “Well, I consider myself fortunate to be here. Damnable cold brought me low for a bit, but I’m back in Bristol fashion.” The blond, mustached man was indeed gaunt, but seemed in good spirits. He bowed to the ladies. “Lady Ashford. Lady Eleanor. Miss Caroline.”

  Observing Eleanor, Sorin was pleased to note nothing extraordinary in her greeting. Caroline’s reaction, however, was most surprising—she behaved with indifference bordering on outright rudeness.

  Rowena gestured for them to follow. “Now that our party is happily complete, let us dine.”

  Sorin started as Caroline all but leaped to his side, where she remained like a tenacious burr all the way to the dining room. Thus it was that when it came time to be seated, Sorin found himself across from Eleanor rather than by her side as he’d desired. Sandwiched between Rowena and Caroline for the duration of the meal, he was given little opportunity to do more than glance at her every now and then.

  Half an hour later, his head began to ache. Frustration mounted by the minute as Caroline alternated between assaulting him with questions and regaling him with witticisms that were no doubt intended to make her appear sophisticated and clever. They did neither. He sneaked another peek at Eleanor, who’d turned to ask Ashford a question he couldn’t hear—because the flirtatious chatterbox beside him seemed to require no breath.

  Heat crept up his neck as Eleanor caught his eye and shot him a quick look of amused sympathy. Bollocks. He’d been staring at her like a damned lovesick schoolboy. Reluctantly, he returned his attention to the still-nattering Caroline. George’s gout, the woman was a bloody magpie! Her voice grated. Her high, tittering laugh annoyed. Her subtle innuendoes alarmed.

  By the time dessert—the much anticipated strawberry tartlet—had at last been eaten and their hostess invited her guests to join her in the music room, he was fit for Bedlam. Rising with haste that very nearly upset his chair, he fled to the other side of the table to offer Eleanor his arm, no longer caring how it might appear. His talkative table companion was left no choice but to pair off with Marston, and he marked that neither of them looked very pleased over the fact. Their strange aversion to each other was a mystery that would have to be solved—later. For the moment at least, he’d been granted a blessed reprieve and was going to take advantage of it.

  When they reached the music room, he deliberately led Eleanor over to a settee that would accommodate only two occupants. “I’ve missed these little gatherings,” he whispered to her as Rowena settled herself at the pianoforte and began to play. “I meant what I said earlier. I missed home…and this, more than anything.”

  “You were missed as well,” she whispered back with a sweet smile. “Tonight was planned specifically for your enjoyment, you know.”

  “Oh? And what of Marston?” he replied in a teasing manner. “Is he not also a special guest? Or is he here so often as to be considered commonplace—as was I, once upon a time?”

  A faint grimace crossed her lovely face. “Lord Marston is here because Rowena wanted a dinner partner for Caroline. Unfortunately, I think Caroline already had someone else in mind,” she said, wincing. “I do hope she was not too much of an imposition.”

  “Not at all,” he replied instantly.

  The look she gave him told him she wasn’t convinced.

  Laughing softly, he gave in. “Though I should like to have made it through at least one mouthful without interruption,” he admitted. “I feel as if I’ve been through an interrogation at the Tower.”

  “I’m so sorry. Caroline can be absolutely relentless, and I fear she has developed a taste for your company that might not be easily dissuaded. If you wish me to speak to her, I shall.”

  “No,” he answered at once. “Despite her foibles, I know her to be your friend and I would never wish to cause strife between you. I believe she will turn to other pursuits once amid London’s distractions. If not, I shall handle the matter with as much delicacy and regard for her feelings as possible.”

  “Thank you,” she said with obvious relief.

  He looked to the other side of the room where Caroline sat pointedly ignoring the gentleman beside her. “I cannot help noticing her cool attitude toward Marston,” he commented. “There is a history there, unless I am gravely mistaken.”

  “You are not,” she murmured, dropping her voice so low that he had to lean closer to hear her. “He once attempted to court her.”

  The scent of lilies clung to the creamy flesh of her neck. “Attempted?”

  “Yes,” she answered with an infinitesimal nod. “He began his pursuit here in Somerset about
a month before her debut. At first she received him with great enthusiasm, enough so that we all thought he would make an offer before the end of the Season and that she would surely accept. But he never came to scratch.”

  “I cannot believe a man as honorable as Marston would trifle with any young lady.”

  “I don’t believe he did,” she replied, leaning a little closer. “He was very kind and attentive toward her, and she appeared much taken with him—at first. But after she arrived in London she seemed to forget him. She set her cap for another, a titled fellow who charmed her with a handsome face and false promises. Lord Marston lingered for a while, but left off his pursuit when he did not receive any further encouragement from her. Then the devil she’d been mooning over married another by special license. It was an enormous scandal, one that left Caroline to return home having only barely escaped disgrace. When she again set her sights on Lord Marston last Season, he would have nothing to do with her.”

  “Small wonder after having been cast aside in so callous a manner,” he said, immediately regretting his caustic tone.

  “Yes, but there is more,” she breathed. “Caroline went without a single suitor last year and she blames Lord Marston for it, though there has never been any evidence to support her assumption. I believe there were several contributing factors. Eligible gentlemen were thin on the ground last year while there were several wealthy heiresses on the market, and then there was the matter of her reckless behavior the year prior. She’d come within a hair’s breadth of scandal, and people remembered it. But she chooses to fault Lord Marston rather than accept her own culpability.”

  “If there is rancor between them, then it again begs the question: why is he here now?”

  “My cousin and Rowena know nothing of her animosity toward him,” she answered, so close now that the wispy curls at her temple brushed against his ear. “Rowena thinks it failed to work out the first time because Caroline was too proud. Ever the optimist, she invited him here tonight in the hope that they might rekindle their initial liking for each other.”

  “Do you think it possible that she still loves him?” He stared at her as she contemplated the question, fixing in his mind the curve of her cheek and the graceful line of her neck.

  “I’m not certain, but I think it might be.”

  “Her greeting tonight would say otherwise, as would her behavior at dinner.”

  A wry smile tilted her mouth. “I think tonight was about attempting to take two birds with one stone, if you want to know. Not only is she out to bag you, but I think she was determined not to have to speak to him.”

  “Perhaps she was trying to make him jealous.”

  “I doubt it. She’s still furious with him. He came home without a bride last year even though Caroline made it clear she was available for the asking and more than willing to accept. Even if he was able to prove his innocence regarding the alleged gossip, she’ll never forgive him for that humiliation.”

  The song ended and it was her turn to entertain. He sighed with relief when she called Caroline, who’d just risen and was now making her way toward him with frightening determination, to accompany her on the pianoforte. The twinkle in Eleanor’s eye told him she’d done it purposely, to spare him further exposure to any marital machinations.

  While the pair was deciding which song to play, Marston came over and sat beside him. “I’ve been waiting all evening to have a word with you, my friend. You’ve been so popular with the ladies tonight that I’d begun to despair.”

  “A fortunate happenstance that is unlikely to be repeated,” Sorin murmured, sipping the sherry handed to him by a passing servant.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Marston. “Seems to me you’ve captured more than one heart here tonight.”

  “Oh? What makes you say so?”

  A broad grin creased the other man’s sun-weathered face. “Oh, come now. I saw the way Miss Caroline looked at you during dinner—as if she would dine on you rather than the meal in front of her. And were you not just now sharing whispered confidences with Lady Eleanor? Your heads were bent close for quite nearly the whole of the song. Is she not the same Lady Eleanor for whom I carried many letters from you?”

  “One and the same. But you already know that such correspondence was the result of a friendship forged between us in her childhood.”

  “Mmm. Well, not to be blunt, but she is no child now,” murmured Marston as the subject of their discussion began to play. “And the way you’ve been staring at her all evening…” One shaggy, straw-colored brow lifted. “I won’t be boorish enough to point out the obvious. I only hope you can reach an understanding with her before it is too late. I would caution you about the temptations of London subverting your cause, but I know Lady Eleanor is not one to have her head turned easily. All the same, I advise you to leave nothing to chance. You ought to let her know how you feel, and soon.”

  The blood began to pound in Sorin’s temples. “Am I so easily spotted for a fool?”

  “Never a fool,” answered Marston kindly. “I think she would make you a fine wife, if you can convince her. She has sworn off marriage, you know.”

  He met Eleanor’s smiling eyes over the top of the pianoforte, and his face prickled with heat. “I’m aware.”

  Beside him, Marston chuckled. “This would be most entertaining did I not know you so well and so deeply sympathize with your plight.”

  Turning, Sorin regarded his friend with all seriousness. “Sympathize?”

  “Oh, come. Do you think I don’t know what the pair of you were whispering about over here? And even were you not, you cannot have failed to mark the manner in which I am treated by Miss Caroline.”

  “I won’t lie and tell you that it went unnoticed, or that I did not express to Lady Eleanor my curiosity regarding the matter.”

  “Then you must know that I’ve very likely made a lifelong enemy in Miss Caroline,” said the other man. “She despises me utterly.”

  “An unhappy circumstance for you, unless I’m mistaken.”

  “Indeed,” said Marston, his brisk manner at odds with the sadness in his eyes. “And to make matters worse, I absolutely must marry this year. I forfeit my inheritance to the next in line if I do not, and such is not an option as I must support my mother and two younger sisters, one of whom is a widow and the other unwed and unlikely ever to marry. Mother begged me to ask for Miss Caroline’s hand last Season. I very much wanted to comply, but I simply could not bring myself to do it.”

  “Why? I was given to understand she was quite willing to accept you.”

  Marston stared at his folded hands for a long moment. “I was too afraid,” he said at last. “The first time I pursued her, she dropped me for a more tempting prospect and I was humiliated. I was reluctant to bind myself to a woman whose affections I could not be certain of, so I avoided her while we were in London. My plan was to wait and renew our acquaintance upon returning home, where I’d at least have some privacy in the event of another rejection. But she would not see me. I was offered no explanation. When I finally cornered her and demanded to know why I was being treated thusly, she informed me that I was the cause of all her woes and then accused me of spreading lies about her in London.” His eyes were devoid of hope. “I swear to you on my honor that I never said anything about her that was unflattering. Though we are friends, I would not have even spoken to you of what lay between us had you not let on that you already knew part of the tale.”

  Sorin disliked meddling in other people’s lives, but he disliked his friend’s misery more. “I would like to help you if it is within my power.”

  “There is nothing to be done.” Marston’s pronouncement had a disturbing ring of finality to it. “She made her choice and has left me with none but to seek a wife elsewhere.”

  “Do you still care for her enough to want to marry her?”

  The other man didn’t speak for a long moment. “I loved her once. She was sweet and unspoiled when we first met.” Hi
s voice hardened. “But London infected her with its caprice, and now it is too late.”

  “Perhaps not,” Sorin suggested. “She might be more forgiving if she knew the truth. Young ladies are often tempted to foolishness in their first Season. Might you not try just once more?”

  Marston shook his head. “I thank you for your kind offer, but I beg you to leave it be. She did not find me worthy then, and she likely never will.” He fixed Sorin with a piercing stare. “As for you, my friend, don’t let this opportunity pass you by. If you love Lady Eleanor, you must be swift to claim her heart. Do not allow her to—”

  But he was interrupted by applause, which both gentlemen hastily joined as the two women rose and curtseyed before their audience. Eleanor sent him a quizzical look that he returned with a smile. Caroline, however, had the demeanor of a thundercloud.

  Chapter Eight

  “That beastly man!” hissed Caroline as they rose from their seat at the pianoforte. “How I wish your cousin had not invited him! I hope he dies this very night of…of—the pox!”

  Eleanor looked to her in shock. Caroline had always been quick to vent her spleen, but rarely had she seen her friend in such a state of rage. Her face was nearly as red as her hair, and her eyes were bright with unshed tears. Linking arms with her, Eleanor quickly propelled Caroline straight out into the hall, ignoring Rowena’s look of concerned inquiry as they passed her by.

  “What are you doing?” squeaked an indignant Caroline, trying to pull away.

  “Saving your neck!” Eleanor told her. “Now keep your voice down before the whole house hears you.” Quickly, she dragged Caroline into the room across the hall. “If anyone asks, we’ll tell them you felt faint,” she said, shutting the door behind them.

  “No!” said Caroline, wrenching her arm free. “We must go back before he spreads lies about me to Lord Wincanton!”

  “Lies? How can you possibly know for certain what they were discussing?” Eleanor prudently blocked the door. “Let us not be so hasty in condemning the man.”