Heart of a Scoundrel (Handful of Hearts Book 4)

by Jenna Jaxon

  After the service, as she and Mrs. Doyle were walking back to the carriage, she wished with all her heart that Richard had come to church. They might’ve gone riding in the park this afternoon or she could’ve invited him to tea. Anything to be able to spend more time with him. To make him more aware of her charms. Now she must wait until at least tomorrow evening and hope he attended Mrs. Reardon’s rout. They reached the carriage and climbed in, Amanda sighing in despair. The wait would be completely interminable. How would she ever bear it until she could see him again?

  * * * *

  Seated between Sir John Branderford and Mr. Fenton at Lady Jersey’s dinner party, Amanda pushed herself to make her conversation as witty as possible, even though her heart simply wasn’t in it. It was Tuesday night, and she’d had no word of any sort from Lord Somersby in three whole days. She’d have been frantic with worry that some accident had befallen him, save that Mrs. Doyle’s friend, Lady Marbury, had come to tea today and remarked that her son had been with Lord Somersby at Tattersall’s on Monday. They’d been in the market for race horses, or rather, Lord Somersby had.

  So he wasn’t dead or lying mangled in a ditch somewhere near an overturned carriage. Still, he hadn’t called on her nor sent her a note since Vauxhall. After Saturday night’s heated encounter, had he lost interest?

  She dragged her attention back to Mr. Fenton, who’d been telling her about his country estate in Kent.

  “My mother has been hinting that she wishes to hold a house party after the end of the season.” The gentleman sipped his wine and glanced at her. Mr. Fenton seemed a kind man, with dark brown hair and eyes, a generally pleasant face, and a painfully thin frame. “I would like to ask her to invite you and your chaperone. I believe you would enjoy such a party.”

  Amanda grasped her wine glass and took a careful sip to give her time to form an answer. Mrs. Doyle would have no objection, she was sure, and there would be no reason to decline such a generous offer, save she hoped to be married by the time the invitation arrived. Still, she should not burn her bridges before she’d crossed them. “Thank you so much for thinking of my pleasure, Mr. Fenton. I am certain Mrs. Doyle and I would love to attend your mother’s party if she decides to entertain in Kent this summer. We shall look forward to the invitation.”

  Fixing a pleasant smile on her face, Amanda turned to address the neighbor on her left when Lady Jersey rose.

  “Ladies, I think we should retire now to allow the gentlemen their brandy.”

  Almost as one, the other ladies rose and followed their hostess down the corridor and up to the first-floor drawing room.

  Immediately, she headed for a broad high-backed sofa on the opposite side of the room from the fireplace. The evening had been so unseasonably warm it was a wonder Lady Jersey had even had it lit. No sooner had Amanda settled onto the blue-flowered sofa than Celinda appeared beside her, looking very well indeed in a peach lustring gown that shimmered in the candlelight.

  Her manner, however, denied her serene appearance. With her brow deeply furrowed and her jaw clenched, Celinda presented an air of distress that raised panic in Amanda’s heart. Clutching her reticule, Amanda tried to smile and asked, “My dear, whatever is the matter?”

  “Oh, Amanda, thank goodness you’re here tonight. So much has happened since last we met that I simply don’t know where to begin.” Celinda plumped herself down beside Amanda.

  “What news?” Had something unfortunate happened between Celinda and Lord Finley? Or worse, did this information again involve Richard?

  “Well, I must tell you first that Father has gotten a proverbial bee in his bonnet about Lord Finley. He’s absolutely refusing to allow his suit, and I’m simply beside myself because I am certain Lord Finley is the one.” Her friend stripped off her gloves and laid them in her lap. “Papa absolutely will not listen to reason.”

  “Has Lord Finley already spoken to him about courting you?” If so, Celinda’s tendre for her gentleman had proceeded at the exact pace as her own. Perhaps such things didn’t always take a long time. Perhaps instead it depended upon the couple themselves and how quickly they understood the depth of their regard for one another.

  “He did. The day after your card party Lord Finley spoke to Papa but with disastrous results.” Celinda abandoned all pretense of calm and grasped Amanda’s hands with chilly fingers. “Papa has forbidden him to call on me, which I think unfair in the extreme.”

  “Did your father give any reason for taking the gentleman in dislike?” The circumstances of her friend’s plight sounded odd, but perhaps Lord Ivor had good reason.

  “Apparently, an ancestor of Lord Finley’s ruined one of Papa’s great-aunts. So he says there’s a stain upon the Finley household and he will therefore never allow Lord Finley’s suit. But there is worse to come.” Looking completely wretched, Celinda rubbed away a tear with the back of her hand. “Papa has now decreed that if I do not find a man who suits me this Season, he will arrange a marriage with someone he believes suitable.”

  “Oh, my goodness.” Amanda pulled Celinda into her arms. “How horrible. Have you spoken to Lord Finley? What did he say to your father?”

  “After Papa told me of his decision, I was frantic. I wrote to Lord Finley, asking him to meet me in the park across the street from our townhouse.”

  “Celinda! How could you do such a thing?”

  “I was desperate to see him, to find out what we might do to change Papa’s mind.”

  “And did Lord Finley have a plan?” Celinda’s troubles suddenly seemed to outweigh her own by a hefty amount.

  “He did, but I’m not at liberty to disclose it, even to a dear friend.” Shaking her head, Celinda glanced over her shoulder at her mother, talking to Lady Jersey. “If it should get about, I don’t know what we would do. You do understand?”

  “Completely.” One could not be too careful. And if she didn’t know the plan, she could not divulge it to Lady or Lord Ivor should the question arise. “I will be praying for your trials to turn out well for you.”

  “Thank you, Amanda. Understanding friends are quite few in the ton these days. Everyone wants to be your friend, but it only seems to stir up trouble with spreading rumors or telling true tales…out of turn.” Celinda stopped short and hung her head.

  The sudden change in her demeanor frightened Amanda, especially when Celinda refused to meet her eyes. “Celinda, what have you heard? Is it something about Lord Somersby and me?”

  Drawing in a deep breath, Celinda patted Amanda’s hands and finally raised her blue-eyed gaze to her friend’s. “Yesterday evening, Mama and I attended Lady Stanley’s dinner. One of the guests was Lady Marbury, who comes from Somerset, the same part of the country as Lord Somersby’s family. I believe she’s here tonight, in fact. After dinner, when the ladies retired, I happened to overhear her mention Lord Somersby’s name, so naturally I strolled over to listen. She told Lady Stanley that Lord Somersby would soon be off the marriage mart as she’d got it from her son Eric that Lord Somersby is about to be betrothed to Lady Edith Fox-Morton, the Duke of Drummond’s daughter.”

  As though the outside world had suddenly gone silent, Amanda could hear nothing save the roaring in her ears. She stared at Celinda, the edges of her vision wavering from light to gray, then gasped as a foul odor assaulted her nose.

  Celinda replaced the top of her small silver filigree vinaigrette and slipped it back into her reticule. “Best not to faint right now with everyone to see you. After you return home, however, I believe a good swoon will make you feel a deal better.”

  Trying to discreetly blow the stench out of her nose, Amanda rubbed her face briskly. “I cannot believe it.” She didn’t want to believe it. Richard would never do such a thing. “He told me he would speak to my father soon.”

  “Lord Somersby has a habit of telling people what they want to hear in order to gain whatever he wants from them. I shudder to think what he may have wanted from you, Amanda. You have indeed had a fo
rtunate escape.” Her friend shivered and settled her shawl more tightly around her. “Ah, the gentlemen have arrived. Let me get us tea and cakes. Sugar works wonders when one has had a shock.”

  As her friend hurried away, Amanda huddled into the corner of the sofa. Misery seeped through her. The most serious calamity to befall her in her entire life, and her friend would not even sympathize with her. She blinked back tears, not wanting Celinda to see them.

  Why had Richard pretended to court her when he was already betrothed? Rubbing her temples, Amanda thought back to that night in Vauxhall. He’d told her about his father’s scheme to marry him to another young lady then, however he’d made it sound more indefinite. To hear the specifics of the match made it much more shocking.

  She could never compete with a duke’s daughter who had wealth and social position. Amanda buried her face in her hands. What advantage did she herself have? None. Unless she had managed in this short time to engage Richard’s affections. It had certainly seemed so at Vauxhall. That near kiss had proven he felt something for her, hadn’t it? Still, she’d not heard from him since that night. Was he repeating the same pattern with her as he had with the other two ladies? Would he now cease his attentions to her as well? She must prepare for that possibility, though she absolutely refused to admit defeat yet. She’d come this far toward engaging Richard’s affections and she’d simply not make a poor showing here at the end.

  Celinda reappeared, tea and cakes in hand. “I brought one cake for me and two for you, Amanda. Such a shock is never a good thing.”

  Avoiding her friend’s gaze, Amanda accepted the cup and sipped gratefully, drawing strength from the hot, sweet beverage. She would manage to take this turn of events in her stride. Gathering her courage, she slid the cup onto a table, and finally looked at Celinda. “I know it sounds odd, but Richard told me of this impending betrothal the night we went to Vauxhall.”

  “Richard? Vauxhall?” Without a doubt, she now had her friend’s rapt attention.

  “Yes. Saturday night, Mrs. Doyle and I accompanied him there with a large party. We were able to spend a bit of time in conversation alone and came to an understanding he would speak to my father as soon as he told his father he would not accept the woman with whom he was arranging the marriage.” Marshalling the strength to remain calm, Amanda steadied herself and continued. “I wasn’t given her name, nor told the betrothal was going forward. That is why I was so startled. But I doubt the marriage will proceed as soon as Richard tells Lord Thaxted he is going to marry me.”

  Amanda had never seen a person absolutely speechless before. Mouth open in a comical O, eyes staring straight at her, Celinda kept making little mewling noises. At last she shook her head, grabbed her tea, and gulped it down. Finally, with deliberate calm, she set the cup on the table. “Lord Somersby has made you an offer of marriage?”

  “Please, I am not supposed to tell anyone.” Amanda glanced around and lowered her voice to a whisper. “And it wasn’t a proposal, exactly, but he said he was planning to speak to my father. That has to mean he wants to ask for my hand or at least to officially court me.”

  “Did he attempt to use this statement to take liberties with you?”

  “I wanted to take liberties with him.” Heat crept into Amanda’s cheeks. “But he stopped me.”

  “And you have not heard from him in three days?”

  Amanda shook her head.

  Celinda threw her hands up. “I am sorry to say I have no advice to give you. If it were any other man, I would agree it seemed likely he was about to propose. With Somersby, however, I cannot even hazard a guess. I must admit, he has been acting differently since he returned for the Season. Odd, even for him.” Cocking her head to and fro, as though contemplating something, and muttering under her breath, at last Celinda shook herself and looked earnestly at Amanda. “If this is what you truly want, my dear, I wish you the best of luck.” She sighed and pursed her lips. “At least you do not have to worry about your father refusing his consent.”

  True. Amanda sighed in relief. Although, at the moment, such a thing was the least of her worries.

  * * * *

  “Oh, Miss Sharpe.” Cartwright pushed the door to Amanda’s chamber open with a hard thump.

  Bolting upright in bed, Amanda blinked as the young maid scurried to the curtains to let the bright sunlight in. “What is it, Cartwright? Why are you rousing me at the crack of dawn?” She’d had a restless night, thoughts of Richard chasing round and round her head. “Can you please bring me warm water and some chocolate? I will then be able to face the day, I believe.”

  “Oh, but, miss, I came to tell you what’s just arrived downstairs.” The maid’s excitement was infectious.

  “Something has arrived for me or someone has?” She quickly slid to the floor, head spinning. Had Richard come at last?

  “It’s a huge vase with an enormous bouquet of flowers for you. Mr. Clanton has placed them on the round table in the entry hall.”

  Richard. It must be. Who else would have sent them? “Help me slip into something so I can go down.”

  Scarcely ten minutes later, dressed in a loose-fitting white morning gown, a lace cap stuck on her head at an odd angle, Amanda hurried downstairs. As she turned the corner at the bottom of the steps she stopped, stunned by the sight before her.

  The bouquet rose at least three feet tall, in a silver vase that stood on its own pedestal. The gorgeous flowers filled the table and perfumed the air with a heavenly fragrance. There were pale and medium pink as well as cream roses, some in full bloom, others just opening. Deep pink frilly peonies that reminded her of a lacy edging with lavender daisies nestled all around them. A beautiful dark purple flower, with multiple blossoms on each stem, she wasn’t familiar with. Regardless of that, together they created a harmony of color and scent that overwhelmed Amanda until all she could breathe was an inadequate, “Oh.”

  “Here’s the note that came with it, miss.” Cartwright plucked the folded sheet of paper from between two of the thickly packed blossoms.

  Amanda took the sheet then stopped. What if it wasn’t from Richard? What if this breathtaking bouquet had come from someone else? From Mr. Fenton? Her heart lurched at the thought. She liked Mr. Fenton, but please, oh please, let this offering be from Richard. Ignoring the shiver that raced down her arms, she unfolded the note and read.

  My dearest Amanda,

  Clutching the paper to her chest, she breathed again. Neither Mr. Fenton nor any other gentleman in London was permitted to call her by her first name save Richard. It must be from him.

  Please forgive me for not calling on you these past several days. I have been engaged in corresponding with my father as well as making other provisions in anticipation of his response to my inquiries. I am sorry I have been unable to spend more time with you, although that should change soon.

  If you plan to attend Almack’s this evening, I would beg the first dance with you on bended knee were I there. In my absence, please accept this bouquet as a small token of my regard and affection for you.

  Until this evening,

  Your devoted servant,

  Richard

  Here was the proof. Richard had no intention of marrying a duke’s daughter. He planned to “spend more time” with her. And in order to do that, he would have to marry her. Tension flowed out of her shoulders all the way to her toes. Suddenly, she felt light as a feather and ready to float to the ceiling. Before she did, however, she needed to answer him at once.

  Feet back on the ground, she raced upstairs for her stationary trunk. Cartwright had just brought her chocolate, so after she’d had a liberal sip of the delicious beverage, her hand steadied enough to mend the pen, put it to paper, and write.

  Dear Richard,

  Although I confess I almost despaired of you after three days of silence, I never quite gave up hope because I have come to affect and trust you to the greatest degree of which I am capable. It is my dearest wish that the answer
you seek from your father arrives swiftly and presents the response we both desire.

  I will indeed be in attendance at Almack’s this evening, and nothing would give me more pleasure than to grant you the first dance, unless I could grant you all of them.

  With my deep, abiding affection,

  Amanda

  An imprudent letter to say the least. Still, she needed him to understand the depth of her affection and regard for him. Because he would likely be going expressly against his father’s wishes when he chose to marry her, she must make him understand that she would stand by him, put him above all others, if only he would make her his wife.

  Before she could think twice about it, she called for Clanton and handed him her reply. “Send the footman with this note for Lord Somersby. Did his have a return direction?”

  “Yes, miss. The Albany.”

  Good. “Thank you, Clanton. Please inform me when it has been delivered and if there is a reply.”

  “Very good, miss.” The butler hurried away, leaving Amanda staring at the door as it closed. She did not expect Richard to send a reply; everything had been settled between them for now. All she had left to hope was that tonight she would be agreeing to an offer of a completely different kind.

  Chapter 9

  For all that Almack’s was supposedly the most exclusive place to see and be seen, Richard had never attended unless he had a specific reason for doing so. In past Seasons, it had either been because he was part of a wager or paying back a favor for some chap whose sister or cousin fancied dancing with him. The surroundings were not elegant enough for his tastes, although the assembly rooms were tolerable. The crush was enormous, especially at the beginning of the Season when all the matchmaking mamas and their darling daughters were out in force. And of course, the refreshments were of particularly poor quality and quantity. Of that, he was not the only one to complain.