Scandalous Scions One

by Tracy Cooper-Posey

  Natasha took the moment of distraction to lean closer to Annalies and murmur, “Burke’s?”

  Annalies didn’t look at her. She kept her gaze on the river, instead, and clapped her encouragement. Underneath her clapping, she murmured, “Morven Annette Fortescue, wife of Baronet Tachbrook. He died twenty-one years ago. No heir.”

  Natasha turned her gaze to the river once more. So, Morven Fortescue had been widowed a very long time.

  The shouting and cries from the spectators in the enclosure shifted to notes of alarm and dismay. Natasha got to her feet, her attention turned fully upon the race.

  One of the spectator craft had floated out too far into the middle of the river. The racing team heading toward them had their backs to the prow of their boat and had no idea there was an obstruction on the course. The women in the drifting dinghy were standing up, screaming in panic, while the men tried to paddle out of the way with their hands and a third reached uselessly for the drifting oars.

  The sound the crowd was making was one of combined warning and alarm. Surely the racing crew could hear them?

  Natasha drew in a sharp breath as the narrow nose of the racing boat slammed into the dinghy, with a crunch and splinter of wood. The dinghy shivered in the water and everyone in it was jolted backwards. One of the women windmilled her arms and screamed as she toppled back into the water with a loud splash. Natasha thought it might be Lady Emily Dacre, the youngest daughter of Viscount Dacre.

  Her companion was a gentleman. He tore off his jacket and instantly dived into the water after her.

  The racing crew’s boat was sinking. Oars floated everywhere and three of the four-man crew were already in the water. The fourth gripped the gunwales of the dinghy, trying heroically to prevent it from floating farther out into the river, into the path of the other rowing teams. The dinghy was far heavier than he, though, and the river flowed strongly here. He was pulled from the sinking row boat and was forced to let the dinghy go to save himself.

  A second competing boat rammed into the dinghy, tossing another passenger, a man, into the river. It also collided with the oar of the fourth crewman from the first boat. As he was still holding onto the oar, it pushed him into the water with a yell.

  Everyone watching fell silent, waiting for everyone to surface.

  Heads popped back up. Natasha counted quickly. Everyone was there, including the fourth oarsman. They all began swimming for the shore and the crowd clapped and cheered, relieved that no one was injured. There was some laughter spattered among the clapping. A moment’s entertainment in amongst the races was always appreciated.

  Many hands reached out to help the swimmers back onto shore. They stepped onto the banks, streaming water and smiling, mostly.

  “They’re coming this way,” Morven said.

  “There are changing cubicles at the back of the enclosure,” Annalies said.

  All the soaked swimmers were making their way through the crowd that gathered around them to congratulate them on surviving the contretemps. Their shoulders were clapped and their hands were shaken. They were all bedraggled, their wet clothing clinging heavily to them.

  Natasha thought it might be fun to be dunked into the water. It would certainly be a fast way to cool off!

  The fourth oarsman came into view. He was making slow going of it, because so many people were stopping him to chat. His head was turned as he spoke. Just as the others did, the man’s clothing clung to him. Natasha’s heart gave a little squeeze, for this man wore no undershirt beneath his shirt. He had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves to row, just as all the rowers did and now the wet cotton molded itself against his chest. He had thick arms and powerful chest muscles. The clear silhouette narrowed down to a tight waist and hips. The soaked pants were wrapped around powerful thighs.

  Something stirred, low in Natasha’s belly. She held still, barely daring to breathe, as she realized she was responding to the sight of a man’s body. She had never felt this stirring for any man but Seth. She remembered it well. The aching need had been absent for four years.

  Now she was feeling it in response to the sight of a stranger.

  She squeezed her legs together under her skirts, trying to deny her wantonness. She dismissed it, refusing to acknowledge the heavy tingling.

  “Why, that’s Raymond, isn’t it?” Annalies asked.

  Natasha’s chest locked and her throat closed down, as the man she had been ogling turned his head back to continue on toward the cubicles.

  It was Raymond. He had been laughing as he talked and the smile was still on his face. Ben must have convinced him to row, after all.

  Then his eyes met hers and his smile faded.

  Natasha didn’t know what to do. She felt exposed by his gaze, as if he could see, as no one else could, the way her body was reacting to the sight of him. Her breath came faster. Her heart tottered at the impact of his gaze.

  For a moment, the roar of the people around them fell away. It was as if only the two of them were there. In the silence, she could hear her heart and her frantic breath and nothing else.

  Someone else thumped Raymond’s shoulder, diverting his attention, tearing his gaze from her. At the same time, Morven Fortescue’s elbow jostled Natasha, forcing her to clutch her stool to keep her balance.

  “I am so terribly sorry,” Morven said, grabbing her arm and helping her right herself. Then she swayed closer. “You were staring for far too long,” she whispered.

  Natasha looked at her, shocked, as she straightened her petticoats and dress.

  Morven gave her a small smile. “I should like you to come to tea tomorrow. I will be at home. May I invite you?”

  Shaken, Natasha could think of no suitably polite reason to refuse. She nodded, unable to speak.

  Morven got to her feet. “I should return to Lady Gaddesby. I bid you good afternoon Princess Annalies, Lady Farleigh, Lady Innesford.”

  Annalies and Elisa made polite farewell comments, while Natasha could barely bring her thoughts together. She kept her head down, staring at the rows of pin tucks above the pleats of her dress, trying to recover quickly so no one else would suspect what had happened to her.

  Her cheeks burned hot. She had been lusting for a man! And that man had been Raymond! How could she? It was so utterly inappropriate. It might even be sinful. How could she feel that way about the son of her best friend?

  Sick fright was replacing the depraved ache she had been feeling. She was a wicked woman. A terrible one. How could she blight Seth’s memory this way?

  “She seems as though she is a very nice woman,” Annalies observed.

  “She is certainly very pretty. Her face is creamy, did you notice?”

  “Pretty, yes, but not nearly as beautiful as Natasha,” Annalies said stoutly, the loyal friend.

  “They say the Scottish sun is kinder to ladies’ faces. It seems it must be true. And she is very polite. Not one slip with our ranks, did you notice?”

  Their chatter and their observations went on. They either had not noticed her distress, or had and were giving her time to recover. If they truly knew why she was distressed they would be appalled. Raymond was Elisa’s son…oh, how could she possibly have felt anything at all?

  Yet she had. Even before she had known who it was, Natasha had felt the yearning in her to be held, to be petted and stroked. A thousand such intimate moments with Seth had flashed through her mind, as she had hungrily skimmed her gaze over Raymond’s body.

  Seth had never let her get away with false coyness and she made herself face the truth now. She had lusted after a man. Yes, coincidentally, it had been a man she knew and that was unfortunate. Yet the whispering of women in private parlors, Annalies’ own more shocking reviews of some of the books she liked to read, even Elisa and Vaughn’s extended illicit collection of titles…they all admitted a woman could feel such urges. Some of them even argued that the urge to mate was a natural thing, and experiencing pleasure in the act was not just the pr
ovince of whores.

  Natasha drew in a deep breath, trying to relax. Her nausea eased and her heart slowed. She had felt a natural urge, she repeated to herself. No one had to know about it. She had no intention of acting upon it. It was the act that would make her sinful, not the impulse.

  Elisa touched her wrist. “I’m told they will be serving ice cream in the luncheon tent. Shall we get some?”

  “Oh, ice cream! I’ve never tasted anything so wonderful,” Annalies said. “Yes, please, can we?”

  Natasha let her two friends pull her onto her feet and link arms with her, glad they could not see into her mind, for they would recoil and draw away from her if they could.

  * * * * *

  Lilly hesitated at the door into the great library, for there were others already occupying the room. Will and Jack and Peter were all Elisa’s sons, even though Will was the only natural born son and heir. Jack had been fostered by Elisa and Vaughn since he was a small child and Peter was adopted. All three of them, though, were mischief-makers supreme—even Peter, who at fifteen was four years younger than Will and Jack.

  “I didn’t know anyone was home,” Lilly said awkwardly. She had rather counted on the library being deserted.

  Jack sat up from his lounging in the button back club chair and put his feet on the ground. “The racing at Hedley was halted early because someone had the lack of sense to sink a couple of boats.” His heavy brows came together. “Damned inconvenient, if you ask me.”

  “Jack,” Will said, his tone warning. He had propped himself against the reading table. He nodded his blond head toward Lilly.

  “Sorry, Lilly.”

  “Was anyone hurt?” Lilly asked.

  “Not a soul,” Will said lightly. “Were you looking for a book for your lessons?”

  “Actually I was looking for Burke’s Peerage.”

  All three of them paused to look at her, including Peter, perched high up on the ladder, his fine hair falling over his gray eyes.

  “Why would you be wanting Burke’s, Miss Lilly?” Jack crooned.

  Her back stiffened. “Not for the reason you think,” she said stiffly.

  “Not hunting for a husband, then?”

  She could feel her face heating. “Absolutely not.”

  “Why is that, anyway?” Peter asked. His voice was still high, only Lilly suspected that wouldn’t last for long. His shoulders were filling out and his legs had always been long. He was going to be a tall man. “Doesn’t every lady want a good marriage?”

  Will looked up at him. “It’s not that simple.” He looked at Lilly. “Although he has a good question. Why did you agree to be governess for Mother?”

  Her throat seemed to close over and squeeze. Lilly swallowed. “I will tell you why I want Burke’s, if you agree not to tell anyone else,” she said quickly, hoping it would deflect them.

  “A secret?” Jack said.

  Even Will looked interested.

  Peter climbed down the ladder.

  Lilly glanced over her shoulder. There was no one there. “I overheard Aunt Elisa and Mother and Aunt Anna talking in the garden one day. Do you remember, when it was very hot?”

  All three of them nodded.

  “They were talking about Raymond. I could hear it all through my bedroom window.”

  Jack rolled his eyes. “I thought you said it was a secret. You think we don’t know everything about big brother Raymond?”

  “Or made sure we found out?” Peter said, with a grin.

  “Then you know he’s been secretly in love with a woman called Susanna for years and years?”

  Silence.

  Jack’s gaze slid toward Will.

  Will swiveled and pulled down the heavy volume from the shelf behind him. “Burke’s. Last year’s edition. If she’s a peer, she’ll be in there.” He dumped it on the reading table.

  Lilly closed the library door and moved over to stand behind Will and watch over his shoulder as he turned the pages.

  So did Jack and Peter.

  * * * * *

  An hour later, they were staring defeat in the face. “Not a single Susanna,” Jack said, disgusted, turning away.

  “How many peers are there, anyway? Does Burke’s have all of them?” Will asked.

  “Most of them, I believe,” Lilly said. “Aunt Annalies was right. Susanna isn’t in it. She might be a commoner after all.”

  “That would explain why Raymond didn’t marry her, wouldn’t it?” Jack said, pouring two sherries from the decanter.

  “Sherry, Jack?” Will said, astonished.

  “It’s past four,” Jack pointed out. He handed Will the second glass. Will took it with a grin.

  “Peers can marry commoners,” Will said. “Look at Uncle Rhys.”

  “He’s a very uncommon commoner,” Jack said. He settled back in his club chair and put his legs over the arm. “Wasn’t there a rumor at Cambridge? About Raymond and some mystery lady?”

  Will crossed his arms. “Yes, I do recall that. I thought it was all a bit of nonsense made up because Raymond would never let himself been seen with anyone.”

  “Very private chap,” Jack said in agreement. “Peter, give it up, lad. You won’t find her in there.”

  Peter ran his finger down the page slowly, scanning each entry. “I just want to make sure,” he said softly.

  Lilly sighed. “Well, thank you,” she told the boys. “Remember, this stays between us, yes?”

  “Absolutely,” Will assured her.

  “Certainly,” Jack added, raising his glass toward her.

  Lilly left them in the library and made her way back upstairs. She was uneasy about trying to pry loose Raymond’s secret when, nearly a year ago, he had convinced her that to do so would be ruinous for the woman and perhaps for him, too. Surely, though, if Mother and Aunt Elisa and Aunt Anna were investigating, then it would be permissible for her to search, as well?

  She just wanted to make sure Raymond wasn’t driving himself into a deep and dark hole, as she had done. That was all. She was doing it for Raymond.

  Chapter Four

  Mulloy shook Natasha’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my Lady. Lord Marblethorpe is in the drawing room, insisting upon seeing you.”

  “I’m not at home,” Natasha said, keeping her head on the pillow. She was glad of the blankets and coverings that hid the way her heart jumped, and possibly hiding that her cheeks were turning pink, too. He was here!

  “Corcoran told his lordship you were not at home, my lady, only he is still insisting. He said he would come up here and break down your door if you did not come downstairs. Corcoran thought it best I let you know rather than try to turn Lord Raymond away himself.”

  Natasha thought of elderly Corcoran trying to manhandle Raymond. She had a feeling Raymond would not put up with anyone trying to force him to do anything he did not want to do. It was wrong to leave Corcoran alone to deal with him.

  Tiredly, she sat up.

  Mulloy stepped back. “Shall I get you a wrapper, my lady?”

  “Yes, I suppose so,” Natasha said. She pushed the quilt aside and got to her feet. “Just linens, Mulloy. I shan’t bother with a corset right now, as I intend to come straight back to bed once I’ve seen him off.”

  “Yes, my lady.” Mulloy fluttered around Natasha, holding out a camisole and pantalets, then the wrapper. Natasha stretched and rubbed her eyes as Mulloy piled her hair up and pinned it in a fast, neat coil.

  “Did you get any sleep, my lady?” Mulloy asked softly.

  “Not really,” Natasha admitted.

  “That’s three nights now. A body can’t go on that long without some sleep.”

  “I agree,” Natasha said with a sigh. “I would sleep if I could and sometimes I drift and almost fall asleep. Then I wake up, as if someone had snapped their fingers under my nose.”

  “It’s a right puzzle, my lady. Why would you suddenly not be able to sleep like that? Do you think the air at Henley did something unnatura
l?”

  Natasha carefully didn’t meet Mulloy’s eyes in the mirror. She felt guilty enough about the lies she was scattering about her. She knew exactly why she was not sleeping and it had nothing to do with the air at Henley.

  As soon as Mulloy was finished, Natasha pushed herself to her feet, put on dance slippers and made her way downstairs. Corcoran met her at the foot of them. “Lord Marblethorpe is in the drawing room, my lady. Would you like me to accompany you?”

  Natasha looked at him, startled. “Raymond is a family friend, Corcoran. Do you think I have need of a chaperone?”

  Corcoran didn’t unbend. “You don’t seem quite yourself my lady, if you don’t mind me saying so. You look in need of support and his lordship is not exactly…calm.”

  “I see,” Natasha said. “I will call if I need assistance.”

  “Should I linger by the door, then, my lady?”

  “That isn’t necessary, Corcoran. If Raymond is upset, it is not with me. I have been in bed for three days, so the matter cannot involve me at all. Raymond is too much of a gentlemen to misdirect his anger. I will be quite safe.”

  Corcoran looked as though he wanted to argue. Natasha held his gaze until he nodded. “Very well, my lady.” He walked stiffly away, his back straight.

  Natasha pressed her hand against her churning innards and stepped into the drawing room.

  Raymond was pacing at the other end of the room. When he saw her, he halted.

  Natasha gripped the door handle and he held up his hand. “No, do not shut the door,” he said quickly. “I would have no hint of impropriety leach from this room tonight.”

  She let the door handle go, as her heart lurched. Raymond really was here to speak to her about Henley. How mortifying! “If you have in mind to discuss what I suspect, then you should leave before you begin,” she said stiffly. “This is not a conversation I intend to have.”

  He came up to her and her breath caught as he drew closer. He looked down at her. “You look as though you should speak of it,” he said softly. “How long have you gone without sleep?”

  His question confirmed that yes, Raymond had seen and recognized her reaction to him. It was doubly humiliating. Not only had she felt such inappropriate feelings, but he was aware of them, too.