Making of a Scandal (The Gentleman Courtesans Book 3)

by Victoria Vale

  Her stomach lurched, the sick feeling overtaking her again and making her feel dizzy and out of sorts.

  “Let me go.”

  Dominick blinked as if awaking from a dream, following the path of her gaze. His arms dropped from around her when he finally noticed what she had seen, but it was too late. There was no mistaking what they had all witnessed—a lover’s quarrel, a torrid embrace, the secrets Calliope had never wanted anyone to know.

  “Fuck,” Dominick uttered in harsh whisper. “Callie …”

  She backed away from him, shallow breaths sawing in and out of her lungs. The whispers flying between the guests filled her mind, even though she couldn’t hear them. Calliope knew what was being said, and the realization of it nearly sent her to her knees.

  Ruined. Shameful. Scandalous.

  Dominick’s lips moved but she couldn’t make out the words, feeling as if the hum of his voice was coming at her through a wall. She gripped her skirts with sweating palms and turned away from him for the second time. She moved as if through a dream, her vision bleary and her limbs heavy.

  With every heartbeat, one accusing word reverberated through her mind, damning and excruciating.

  Ruined. Ruined. Ruined.

  And she had done it to herself.

  A hand took hold of her arm and she glanced up to find Diana, her expression grim. Calliope sobbed, and Diana pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

  “Chin up,” she instructed, though her voice was as unsteady as Calliope’s legs. “Eyes straight. Never let them see you cry. We’ll get through this.”

  Diana’s words gave her what she needed to return to the house, entering through a door far removed from where the others had gathered to watch. She took one last look at Dominick, who remained where she’d left him, a forlorn picture from this distance. But, she turned away at Diana’s urging, telling herself there could be no more looking back. She had awakened this morning so happy and filled with hope, and had now been cast into the dark, left with no notion of where to go from here.

  With this painful turn of events, a valuable lesson had been learned … one she would not forget ever again.

  Chapter 13

  “It would seem my wish has been granted, as word has begun to spread of a most riveting scandal. Apparently, a certain heiress was caught behaving inappropriately with one of her suitors, resulting in quite a to-do. It remains to be seen whether a wedding will be in the offing—the only chance there is of saving the sullied reputation of The Hon. Miss B.”

  The London Gossip, September 28, 1819

  Calliope sat on the edge of her bed, hands folded in her lap as she stared blindly across the room. Ekta moved about, cleaning up behind their morning toilette while giving her the occasional concerned glance. She tried to bring herself to reassure her maid that everything would be all right—that she would survive this setback and go on to live the best life she might salvage for herself. But, she couldn’t say the words when she didn’t even believe them herself.

  She had spent the rest of the previous day closeted away, shunning contact with anyone other than her father, Diana, or Ekta. Her family was obviously shocked by what would become a public scandal the moment word spread of her intimate embrace with a man with a most unsavory reputation. It was almost humorous to be damned by something so trivial, when there had been so much more between them. She wondered how scandalized they would be to know of the intimacies they had shared the night before. But, thinking about that only made her want to weep, and she was done weeping. She’d spent yesterday mourning what could never be. If ever there was a time for her to be straight-backed and practical, this was it.

  Her father had been concerned about the state of her heart more than her marriage prospects, assuring her that he would protect her from the worst of the gossip, and she could remain in Surrey with him to weather out the storm. He’d even hinted that she might stay forever if it was what she wished. He and the aunts would look after her, turning her—she felt—into the burden she’d never wished to be.

  Diana had been all in a lather, revealing that Lady Thrush had been responsible for her exposure, mentioning to Martin that she and Dominick seemed to be in the midst of a spat. The man had come running to investigate, and when others caught wind of the melodrama, they had all followed. She also suspected that Martin had set it all in motion, positioning Lady Thrush to accost Dominick. As he had been the only one at the time with knowledge of Dominick’s location, Calliope supposed her sister’s accusation was warranted. But, it didn’t matter. Whether by design or by chance, the entire incident had opened her eyes to things she hadn’t wanted to see.

  The time for grief and dashed dreams was over. As she came to her feet to answer the knock at her door, she squared her shoulders. She had dressed in her plainest day gown, a somber navy-blue affair with few frills and a modest neckline. Ekta had wound her hair into a severe knot at her behest. She had also applied a compress over Calliope’s eyes to leech away the residual swelling caused by tears and a sleepless night. She stood armored in her resolve, ready to face what must happen next.

  Her father stood in the corridor, his face set in a mingling of determination and concern.

  He offered her a folded slip of paper, sealed closed with red wax. “I came to inform you that Mr. Burke departed early this morning. Word arrived from London that his uncle’s health has taken a dire turn. His servant gave me this to deliver to you.”

  She glanced down, finding her name scrawled on the page in Dominick’s familiar, looping hand. He had addressed her as Anni, and the sight of it nearly drove her to tears again. She blinked them back, lowering the note and presenting nonchalance to her father.

  “Thank you. Is that all?”

  The viscount cleared his throat and avoided her gaze. “Well … there is another matter …”

  “Martin.”

  “Yes. He has requested an audience with you. I told him I thought it was too soon, but he assured me he doesn’t wish to heap more misery on you. He was rather clear that he doesn’t intend to rescind his offer of marriage. Diana did not think I should allow it, but I thought you ought to know … all things considered.”

  She gave a slow nod, her vision becoming bleary again. Calliope supposed she ought to feel something at receiving such news. After all was said and done, her plan had not failed. If Martin was still willing to marry her, she would be saved from total ruin, and the talk of her and Dominick would eventually cease. Respectability would be hers again, and she wouldn’t have to spend the rest of her life rotting away alongside the aunts.

  However, there was only the persistent numbness she’d allowed to take over her body, muffling every emotional response.

  “I see.”

  The viscount’s face fell as he took her hands. “Anni, you don’t have to do this. There are other ways for us to get past a scandal.”

  She shook her head, reaching up to cup his cheek. The dear man was so overwrought, and it was all her fault. Dominick would come to hate her for what she was about to do, adding yet another regret to the growing mountain of her mistakes.

  “It’s all right, Papa. I love that you want to protect me, but I must be the one to face the consequences.”

  “And you think those consequences should include accepting a man you do not love?”

  “I may not love Martin, but I can have a good life with him.”

  “But, Mr. Burke—”

  “Cannot be my choice. There are things you do not understand … I wish I could explain, but … please, trust me when I say that this is for the best. If you love me, I beg you, say no more of Mr. Burke.”

  Her father looked as if he wished to protest, but simply bowed his head, shoulders slumping in defeat. “He’s waiting for you in my study.”

  “I’ll go to him shortly.”

  With a kiss to her cheek, he was gone.

  Her hands shook as she tried to open Dominick’s letter, her hands suddenly clumsy and use
less. At last, she unfolded the note, blinking to focus on the words.

  Anni,

  I regret that I must depart, but I’m certain you understand how imperative it is that I return to London. My uncle’s health has taken a turn for the worse, and my sister’s letter led me to believe we should not expect him to recover. I hope you will grant me another chance to plead my case when you have returned to London. There is so much I want to say, but there isn’t time and a letter could never encompass the entirety of what I feel for you. This cannot be the end for us. I will not accept that it was all a mistake, or that our future cannot be as bright and beautiful as we imagined in those quiet moments yesterday morning. For now, I can only beg you to understand that I never wanted to cause you pain. Know that I love you with every breath in my body and will never cease.

  Yours eternally,

  Nick

  Calliope closed her eyes and lowered her head, the paper crumpling against her lips. She pressed a kiss to his words, allowing herself a short time to soak in his declaration of love. Before it could settle too deeply, piercing the walls she’d begun erecting around her ravaged and bleeding heart, she lowered the note and pushed it all away. The letter fluttered to the floor and she stepped over it.

  She wouldn’t send for him when she returned to London. It was best she kept her distance, for she would never be able to resist him if they came face to face. The next time he saw her, she would be completely out of his reach. She intended to make sure of that right now—not because she wanted to hurt him, but because she knew it was the only way to keep herself from forgetting the insurmountable reasons she should keep away.

  The house was quiet as she made her way downstairs; the guests were at breakfast by now.

  She found Martin standing near a window in the study. He turned when he heard her enter. There was no charming smile for her today, no spark of interest or desire in his eyes, no honeyed words. She wanted none, but could not help but realize that this, too, was her fault. She’d veered off her path and nearly destroyed her best chance for a secure future.

  “Good morning,” he said, hands clasped behind his back. “Thank you for seeing me. I understand why you might wish for solitude right now, but this will only take a moment.”

  “I hope you know I did not intend to avoid you forever. I simply needed time, but I’m here now and am certain you have a number of things you wish to say to me.”

  He frowned, coming toward her as his hands fell at his sides. He seemed to think better of it and halted, his eyes darting to the open door. Her reputation was already in tatters, and another scandal could be stoked with only the whiff of impropriety.

  “There has been talk. It won’t be long before all of society knows about your … indiscretion with Mr. Burke.”

  She winced. An indiscretion. A mistake, she had called it, hating herself for the way it had affected Nick, his face portraying the hurt it had inflicted.

  “I understand if this has changed your opinion of me. I can do nothing but offer my sincerest regrets for having involved you in any of it.”

  “I am willing to forgive you and forget it ever happened, if you can assure me that it is over. I understand that sometimes a woman can become confused, and her judgment clouded as a result. I cannot fault you for it, when I know Mr. Burke to be a man without scruples.”

  The words to defend Dominick rose up in her throat, but she swallowed them down. “It is over, and I have no intention of repeating such an error.”

  Martin pinched his lips, avoiding her gaze. “There is something else I must ask you, but I don’t wish to embarrass you further.”

  Her stomach twisted as she gathered his meaning, her palms breaking out in a sweat. Of course, he wanted to know if she had done the unforgivable and surrendered her virtue.

  Raising her chin, she stared right at him and told the truth. There was no use hiding it, as he would know for himself once they arrived at their wedding night.

  “I have lain with him.”

  A muscle in his jaw ticked, but he refused to look at her, tension radiating from him with accusing force. “I see. Well, I must inform you that I am not coming into this marriage a virgin, either, so I suppose I cannot condemn you.”

  Her head jerked back in surprise, but she remained silent, waiting for him to continue. It was obvious he had more to say. His gaze finally met hers, and despite his declaration, his eyes radiated betrayal and disappointment.

  “As you know, I have need of a bride with a large dowry or inheritance. I will admit that when Hastings mentioned your wealth, it was the thing that drew me to you … at first. I came to like you, Calliope, and thought you felt the same.”

  “I did … I do.”

  “Very well. We ought to announce an engagement as soon as possible to take the edge off the gossip. I have no desire to begin anew with someone else, and wish to be wed at the earliest convenience. If you can assure me that your association with Mr. Burke will come to an immediate end, I believe we can have an amiable union. After the wedding, we will quit London for a time, ensuring most of the talk has died down before we return. As well, I must ask you to inform me should you discover that your blunder has resulted in a more … permanent consequence.”

  It hadn’t occurred to her to think of the possibility of a child, but Martin’s words struck dread in her. Her heart could heal, and life could go on as before … but only if she weren’t forced to face the evidence of her one night with Nick every day.

  “Is all this agreeable to you?”

  He stared intently at her, waiting for her response. She nearly laughed at the tragedy of it all. Here she stood about to accept her second marriage proposal within a week. There was no romance or gentle wooing, no declarations, no man on one knee gazing up at her with adoration in his eyes. Cold, impersonal, practical … exactly what was necessary for her continued survival.

  “Yes.”

  Martin sagged as if relieved, and she realized he’d been nervous, even knowing he was proposing to a fallen woman. He must be more desperate for her funds than she thought. But, she didn’t care. Her inheritance in exchange for respectability and stability. It wasn’t grand passion or great love, but it would do.

  “I will inform your father,” he said as he made his way to the door.

  He paused when he neared her, tentatively bending his head. She held her breath and braced for a kiss, but was relieved when his mouth merely grazed her cheek. Someday, she would come to make herself accept his affection and offer her own in return. Just now, she was too numb to do anything more than stand there and endure the intimacy.

  He exited without another word, leaving her alone with her regrets. She feared that even a respectable marriage would never be enough to erase them.

  Dominick slouched in his chair at Paul’s bedside, viciously ripping apart the copy of The London Gossip he’d just finished reading. He didn’t know why he tortured himself this way, but had been desperate for any hint that the rumor of Calliope’s engagement to Martin Lewes was true. It had just been confirmed that Viscount Barrington had announced the betrothal during dinner one night at his house party, and the first of the banns were to be called soon. Apparently, Lewes had wasted no time swooping in to take advantage of Calliope’s vulnerability. It was difficult not to be angry with her, as well, for accepting the other man’s suit. Nick understood her reasons, even if acknowledging them hurt like nothing ever had. Fear had guided her choice, and the need to hold fast to propriety was a strong enticement against the truth of what he’d been when they had first met. He’d been so eager to have her, so desperate to move on with his life that he forgot about the finer details—like the possibility that one of his former lovers could accost him at any time, or how his fiancée of all of one day might feel about that.

  A week had passed since his return to London, and he felt as if his entire world had begun to fall down around him in that time. He spent much of his time staring off into space and trying to figure out e
xactly when everything had gone to hell.

  She had been his. For the span of one day and one night she had been completely, entirely his … and now she wasn’t.

  “I think … it is dead now.”

  Dominick glanced up to find that his uncle was awake, a witness to his fury. He glanced down at the shreds of paper dusting his lap and scattered on the floor.

  “I have a few letters you can assault next if you … need something else to destroy,” he added, his words pushed out between labored breaths.

  “Quiet, old man,” Nick murmured with affection, taking up the bit of toweling resting in a bowl of cool water and using it to bathe his uncle’s brow. “You should be conserving your strength.”

  He’d spent much of the past week here, leaving long enough to wash, change his linen, eat, and receive the news from Thorpe that Calliope was set to return to London engaged to another man. Caring for his uncle was the only thing that brought him levity, and Nick didn’t know what he’d do once Paul had taken his last breath. He was empty and wrung dry, turned inside out and left grappling with the acute agony of two great losses—one already gone, and one soon to come.

  “I shan’t bother,” Paul grumbled. “Won’t be … long now. I’d rather … talk to you. We aren’t alone often.”

  His family came and went from the room throughout the day to spend time with Paul. Nick had passed two nights in this chair, unable to do anything other than wallow in his grief.

  “Shall I regale you with more woeful stories of being tossed over by the only woman I’ve ever given a damn about? Her engagement is now public knowledge, you know. She has decided to move on from her mistake—that would be me, by the way—and wed her perfect, shining knight.”