Scandal of the Season

by Liana Lefey

  “Good morning Lady Ashford, Lady Wincanton,” he heard Lady Yarborough say. There was a heavy pause, and then, “Good morning, Lady Eleanor. I do hope everyone rested well.”

  “Quite,” answered his mother. “One expects the bedding in such establishments to be disagreeable at best; however, I found mine surprisingly tolerable.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” replied Lady Yarborough. “I will relay your compliment to my son, who suggested this establishment. He expects the best, you know. As do I. I have no forbearance for things that are not of the very highest quality.”

  Silence.

  “Lady Yarborough, might I have a word with you in private?” he heard Eleanor ask after a moment.

  “My dear child,” said Lady Yarborough in an oily manner that made his skin crawl with distaste, “whatever you have to say to me may surely be said before your family and friends.”

  After a moment’s hesitation Eleanor again spoke, her voice sounding a bit strangled, “Yes, of course. Lady Yarborough, I wish to express my…regret over the unfortunate misunderstanding between us yesterday.”

  “Misunderstanding?” The flatly spoken word was laden with displeasure.

  “Yes,” answered Eleanor. “I’ve had time to think about what transpired. You were correct in that I have never been so unfortunate as to be faced with a decision like that which was forced upon your son. Though I would like to think I would have chosen differently, I cannot be absolutely certain I would have done so had I been in his place. As such, I ask that you forgive my having spoken in haste. I’m afraid I let my passion carry me beyond the bounds of polite manners.”

  Tucked away in his chair, Sorin covered his mouth to hide a broad grin. Clever girl! She hadn’t at all apologized for what she’d said, but rather the manner of its delivery.

  “Why, of course I forgive you,” replied Lady Yarborough in a saccharine tone. “I know you meant no disrespect. Your words were borne of a tender heart—a most commendable attribute in a young lady.” A heavy sigh. “Would that my own circumstances had allowed me to remain so sheltered and idealistic. But alas, my naïveté was extinguished long before its time.”

  Sorin’s mother cleared her throat loudly. “In my opinion, it is a mark of her exemplary upbringing that she has retained such charming ingenuousness, especially when one considers the degradation of society these days. Would you not agree, Lady Yarborough?”

  Sorin muffled a laugh.

  “Er, yes. Quite so,” said Lady Yarborough after a moment.

  “Then, as we all seem to be in happy agreement, may I assume the aforementioned ‘misunderstanding’ has been resolved?” continued his mother.

  “Of course,” said Lady Yarborough in a strained voice. “Yes, of course it has. It was really nothing to begin with.”

  “Excellent!” his mother interrupted, though the other woman was clearly not finished. “Then I shall go and find my son so that we may depart.”

  Grimacing, Sorin sank a little deeper into his seat and hoped to escape notice.

  “Eavesdropping, are we? Shame on you.”

  The quiet voice at his ear made him jump, and Sorin bit back a curse. “Damn it all, Charles!” he hissed. “Don’t sneak up on a body so!”

  “Judging by the stiffness of Lady Yarborough’s spine, it must have been well worth hearing,” whispered his friend, who was smiling from ear to ear. “Come, their backs are turned. Stand, and we’ll act as though you’ve just come in with me.”

  Too grateful to turn down the offer, Sorin did as he was told.

  “You must tell me everything when we have a private moment,” murmured Charles. “Not that I’m avid for gossip, but for once I’d like to know what my wife does before she tells me only the bits she deems important.”

  “It’ll be my pleasure,” Sorin answered, doing his best to appear nonchalant as his mother approached them.

  “Lord Ashford,” she said with a brisk nod of greeting. “How perfect your timing is. Might I borrow my son for a moment?”

  “Of course, madam.”

  Sorin mouthed the word “traitor” at him as he turned, earning in response a wicked and completely unrepentant grin. Before his mother could speak, however, a nearby disturbance drew their attention.

  “What do you mean I owe you a crown?” growled Yarborough angrily, his demeanor menacing as he addressed the owner of the establishment. “I thought we had an understanding.”

  Very politely, but also very firmly, the innkeeper clarified. “My lord, you and your lady mother had the use of two of my best rooms last night. The cost of meals was included in the price, which is half a crown apiece. The others in your party have already settled their accounts.”

  Yarborough’s face and neck grew mottled. “I bring you business of the highest order—a duke and a bloody earl—and this is how you repay my kindness? I could have advised them to go by way of Chilmark rather than stopping here!”

  “And your recommendation is greatly appreciated, my lord. But at no time did I ever agree to let my rooms free of charge.” Arms folded, the innkeeper stood before him, waiting.

  “Gentlemen, is there a problem?” Sorin asked, stepping in.

  Yarborough, who looked ready to murder, blinked in surprise at his intrusion. “Not at all. Just taking care of a bit of private business. I’ll be along in a moment.”

  “After rendering payment in full,” said the innkeeper quickly, holding out his hand toward Yarborough. “Which I’ll be having now, my lord, if you please.”

  An impatient sigh burst from Yarborough. “You are inconveniencing not only me, but the other members of my party with this boorish persistence!” he hissed to the innkeeper. “We’ll discuss it when I return from London.”

  “Take your time, please,” Sorin interjected loudly. “I’m in no hurry to remount. In fact, I’ll wait with you while you settle your bill.”

  Jaw clenched, Yarborough snatched his purse from his belt and began to count out coins into the happy proprietor’s hand. When he’d slapped the last one into the waiting palm, the innkeeper smiled broadly and bid him good day and safe journey. He did not, notably, encourage Yarborough to come back on his return trip, as he had Sorin earlier that morning.

  Clearly, Yarborough had not expected to have to pay for lodgings. Either he was a stingy blackguard bent on getting something for nothing or he had money trouble. Neither was good, but if parting with a mere crown was painful…

  The extravagant clothing, the new London address, cozying up to the Ashfords—suddenly, it all made sense. “When in doubt, brazen it out,” the old saying went. He’d be willing to bet a thousand pounds that the Yarboroughs had spent every penny on this trip in an effort to fool and catch a rich heiress.

  And that rich heiress was undoubtedly Eleanor.

  Chapter Twelve

  With great anticipation, Eleanor watched London’s busy streets pass by her window. The leaden sky and drizzle bothered her not at all, though she wished the inclement weather had come a bit sooner so that Sorin might have ridden with her. It had begun just as they’d crossed into the outskirts of Town, and he’d elected to remain mounted rather than bring the damp into the carriage with him.

  Despite having enjoyed the comforts of Lady Wincanton’s carriage and companionship, both of which were far superior to the alternative, it had been a long and wearying road. Every night Caroline had bemoaned at length her having to endure Lady Yarborough’s constant poking and prying into her personal business, and every night Eleanor had felt terrible for not being able to share her own good fortune. It wasn’t her carriage to offer, and it would have been inappropriate to ask her hostess to further alter arrangements.

  Still, she was here. The Season had never before held much charm or significance for her, but now it was everything. It was an opportunity. If Sorin, who was now officially on the market, could somehow be made to see her as the best possible match…

  This time, the prospect of marrying Sorin inspired neither pa
nic nor guilt, but rather excitement.

  If I must wed, then why not marry someone I already know? Someone I’m quite fond of and who lives close to Holbrook? It made perfect sense, really. Holly Hall was but a stone’s throw from home. And Charles would doubtless be more than pleased to have his dearest friend become part of the family.

  The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that it was the wisest course of action. Who better to marry my friend than me? True, he’d been stern and disapproving in the past, but things might be different now that he saw her as a woman grown and not a schoolgirl needing constant correction. In the course of one conversation, a whole new world of possibility had opened up. Now to see if it is indeed possible…

  “I can see you’re just as pleased as I to have arrived,” said Lady Wincanton with a smile that transformed at once into a frown as one of their wheels hit a bump, jostling them. “Merciful God. My posterior will certainly be glad of a change in attitude.”

  “Mine, too,” Eleanor agreed with a rueful laugh. She felt completely at ease with Sorin’s mother now. Rather than being cool or aloof as she’d once thought her, Lady Wincanton was warm and kind. The lady had also proven to possess not only a sharp wit, but a far more playful sense of humor than she’d thought possible. Sorin was very much like her. “I confess I will be delighted to see the outside of this carriage,” she admitted. “I long for a proper hot bath.”

  “That shall be my first order of business as well,” agreed Lady Wincanton. “Along with a glass of mulled wine.”

  They fell into amiable silence as the coach wended its slow way through London’s sodden streets to St. James Square, where they both made their London homes. Eleanor felt like cheering when they at last came to a full stop. She smiled at Lady Wincanton. “Thank you again, madam, for so generously sharing your carriage with me.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, my dear. I shall look forward to seeing you again on Tuesday.”

  The door opened then and Eleanor disembarked, glad for the large umbrella the footman held over her head. The other carriage had already stopped ahead of them. Issuing from within its confines were the shrill complaints of Lady Yarborough concerning the weather. She grinned as Caroline all but leaped from the conveyance in her hurry to get away. Even Rowena, who was normally so calm and patient, looked harried as she quickly followed suit.

  Her view was blocked then as Sorin rode up between them, the water dripping from the brim of his hat as he looked down at her with a warm smile. “I shall make an appointment at Rundell & Bridge’s and send a message to let you know when it has been set.”

  “I look forward to it,” she replied, marking the avid gleam in the eye of the footman awaiting her leisure. That juicy bit would no doubt be halfway across London within the hour. So much the better!

  With a polite tip of his sodden hat, Sorin hailed the driver of the carriage bearing his mother and moved to ride ahead of it.

  Eleanor watched him for a moment. Now that she was really looking at him, she noticed what a truly fine figure he cut even in the rain.

  Sorin. The only one who had understood her grief and had treated it with respect because he’d suffered a similar loss himself. The only person who’d let her cry and never told her not to be sad or to keep a stiff upper lip. Sorin, her friend and guide, ever sensible, always wise. The more she thought about it, the more the idea of a union appealed.

  He’s not so stern and uncompromising, really. I think I could be happy as his wife.

  Only when he’d faded into the gray curtain of rain did she turn away. She shivered, marking the chill that had crept in to grip her fingers and toes. The warmth of a fire would be most welcome indeed.

  Before she could set foot on the first step, however, someone else called out her name. Cringing, she stopped. Damn. Of course Yarborough would want to say a parting word. Likely several. Assuredly too many. Pasting a cool smile on her lips, she turned.

  What a sorry sight he was with the water dripping off his new—and no doubt ruined—hat. He’d wanted to dismount and ride in the carriage when the rain had started, she remembered, but when Sorin and Charles had themselves declined the option, he’d changed his mind. Unlike the other men, who’d seemed almost to enjoy the rain, he looked utterly miserable.

  “Sir Yarborough, I do hope you won’t think me rude for my haste, but…” She gestured at the increasingly heavy downpour.

  “Not at all, Eleanor,” said he, his smile strained. “I don’t wish to detain you long, only a moment to bid you a warm welcome home and to say that your delightful company has been the highlight of my journey. I hope to see you again very soon.”

  She only just managed to keep her mouth from dropping open. Not only was his familiarity of address impertinent, but he’d hardly spoken two words to her since her confrontation with his mother! Then she marked that his gaze rested not on her, but rather on the footman standing beside her. So, he planned to use the servants’ grapevine as well, did he? Indignation heated her blood, driving off the cold.

  “Why thank you, Sir Yarborough,” she said, deliberately using formal address. Damned if she’d be quoted as having used his Christian name! “And know that you also have my thanks for your kindness to Caroline. I fear she would have been desolate when Lady Wincanton stole me back in Hindon were it not for your constant attentiveness and gallantry toward her. And do also please relay my heartfelt thanks to your dear mama for inviting her to tea. I’m sure it also lightened her spirits considerably.”

  His smile slipped a little. “Yes, of course.”

  At that moment, it began to rain in earnest. Blessing the weather, she dipped the tiniest curtsy, so as not to soak her hem. “You’d best go before you catch your death,” she said loudly over the splatting of raindrops. “Caroline will scold me most fiercely for keeping you out in this. I’m sure we’ll meet again in passing sometime soon! Good-bye, Sir Yarborough!”

  Without giving him a chance to respond, she turned and hurried up the steps, forcing the footman to follow with the umbrella. She chuckled to herself as they left the despicable Donald Yarborough behind in the deluge. Up, up she went, not once glancing back. The footman sheltering her could take that conversation to the other side of London, too!

  “Good Lord, Ellie!” exclaimed Rowena, who was waiting for her in the foyer. “Your boots are likely wet through. What in heaven’s name were you doing lingering out there?”

  “Saying good-bye to Sir Yarborough.”

  Rowena’s brow shot up at her sour tone. “Go and get out of those wet things at once,” she ordered softly. “And then you can tell me everything over a hot pot of tea.”

  It felt so good to be warm and dry that it was hard to imagine venturing out again into the chill air, but Sorin was determined not to delay. There were preparations to make that he hadn’t been able to see to while in Somerset, and there were certain people he needed to speak with as well.

  Happy was the chance that had made him look back at Eleanor. Had he not, he wouldn’t have seen Yarborough still sniffing about. Considering the conflict between Eleanor and Lady Yarborough, he’d thought that perhaps the fellow had decided to leave off pursuit. Not so, apparently.

  It wasn’t that the blackguard represented any sort of romantic threat—Eleanor could hardly stand the fellow—but rather the trouble he might stir up that worried Sorin. Yarborough was up to something, and whatever it was it couldn’t be good for Eleanor.

  Rising, he called for his valet to bring his other boots and ready the light carriage. Rain or not, some things simply couldn’t wait. He needed answers, and he needed them quickly. His mother came in just as he was preparing to leave.

  “I take it you’re going to see Stafford?”

  “As a matter of fact I am,” he said, frowning. “Lord, woman. Were you not my own mother, I’d swear you were a Gypsy fortune-teller. One day, I’ll have to figure out how you do that.”

  A thin smile was her only acknowledgement of the
compliment. “It was merely a logical assumption on my part. You’re suspicious of Yarborough. Stafford possesses the means to confirm those suspicions or lay them to rest. You being the decisive person that you are, I would not have expected you to wait a moment longer than necessary to seek out his services.”

  “I could just be going out for an evening’s entertainment, you know.”

  “On your first night in London after a six-day journey and in this biblical downpour?” she scoffed. “And with that look on your face? You look like you’re either going to attend a funeral or planning to cause one.”

  “Stafford should hire you,” Sorin grumbled good-naturedly. “I think I’ll just tell him to come ’round with some of his cold cases and let you have a peek. You’d probably solve the lot of them over tea.”

  “What nonsense,” she replied, but her expression was smug. “I myself began to seriously wonder about Yarborough when you told me of his reluctance to pay his bill that first night. And then there was that whole ‘Irish land sale’ business Eleanor told me about. He brags and makes a show of prosperity, but begrudges an innkeeper a measly crown. Something is not right.”

  It was uncanny how similar they were in nature. “I know it. But John will ferret out the truth,” he assured her, pulling on his gloves.

  “And what will you tell her?”

  “Eleanor?” he asked. “Hardly necessary to let her in on it, I should think. I might tell Charles, though. Just so he can keep an eye on her when I’m not around.”

  Her mouth thinned. “Yes, well tell him to be sure that Rowena goes with Eleanor’s little redheaded friend whenever she visits them so as to prevent her becoming a source of information. I would not put it past that pair to attempt extortion.” Moving to the chair he’d vacated, she sat with an indelicate grunt and stretched her feet out before the fire.