A Lady’s First Scandal

by Farmer, Merry

  Cece swallowed her mouthful of biscuit so awkwardly that she nearly choked on it. Instantly, the vision of Rupert doing exactly as he promised filled her head, making her throb so acutely that she, too, had to squirm to sit more comfortably. She pinned her hopes of keeping the upper hand on saying, “Did you try that with any of your mother’s friends?”

  “No,” he answered firmly and calmly, crossing his arms, his eyes daring her to throw another insult at him.

  She had nothing else to say, so she glanced out the window once more, finishing off her biscuit. Her breasts felt heavy with the need to be touched and her tightened nipples rubbed frustratingly against her corset with the train’s rocking motion. In fact, that motion was not helping to dispel the cloud of lust that Rupert’s continued, hungry stare raised in her.

  By the time they arrived at the St. Alban’s station ten minutes later, Cece was overheated and her body rippled with restlessness. It was all she could do to wait for the station porter to open their compartment door. As soon as the rush of fresh air hit her, she practically leapt from the train to the platform without waiting for Rupert to do the proper thing and exit first to give her a hand down.

  “Cecelia!”

  Cece nearly wept in relief as Henrietta called to her from the far end of the platform. She sent a brief look over her shoulder to make sure Rupert had exited the train, then made a beeline straight for her friend.

  “Lord, am I happy to see you,” she sighed in relief, reaching for Henrietta’s hands and squeezing them.

  “Oh dear,” Henrietta said, studying Cece with a wise look. “Was it that bad?”

  Cece twisted to look back at Rupert once more. He was busy dealing with the porter and retrieving their baggage from the compartment. That didn’t stop him from glancing her way and winking when he saw her watching him.

  She whipped back to Henrietta, certain that her expression was full of dread. “I have so much to tell you,” she said.

  Henrietta nodded gravely. “I can see you do.” She glanced around for a moment, then took Cece’s hand. “Come this way. Lord Howsden sent carriages to fetch us all to Albany Court. We’ll have more privacy if we talk by them.”

  They proceeded through the small station and out to the street. St. Albans was a relatively small town, but there was still enough traffic passing by the train station to make enough noise to conceal anything Cece wanted to say. Four carriages bearing the Howsden crest were lined up by the side of the street along with two that looked like hired conveyances. Already, a few of the May Flowers that Cece recognized—some with their husbands and some with only themselves as chaperones—stood beside the carriages chatting.

  “Are we departing for Albany Court soon?” Lady Jarvis asked Henrietta as she and Cece passed.

  “We’re waiting for one more train,” Henrietta answered. She glanced to the massive timetable on the station’s wall, where an attendant was marking the train from London as arrived. “It shouldn’t be more than ten minutes.”

  Lady Jarvis nodded and returned to her conversation. Henrietta walked Cece the rest of the way along the line of the carriages and past them, to the shade of an oak whose leaves were swaying in the gentle, late-spring breeze.

  “Now,” she said, coming to a stop and turning to face Cece. “Tell me everything.”

  Twin feelings of embarrassment and relief that she finally had someone to spill her heart to left Cece momentarily speechless. She peeked down the line of carriages to make certain no one was listening to her, and to be sure Rupert hadn’t left the station yet. Then she took a deep breath and blurted before she lost her nerve, “Rupert and I spent the night together after the ball last week.”

  Henrietta’s eyebrows shot up, but her surprise was far milder than Cece expected it to be. “I see,” she said, paused, then went on to ask, “How was it?”

  Cece let out a breath, her shoulders drooping. “It was wonderful,” she confessed. She paused, wondering if she should be more explicit with her details. Sense told her not to, so she continued with, “At least until the cold light of day.”

  Henrietta’s expression softened to sympathy and she squeezed Cece’s hand. “Regrets?” she asked, as cryptic as Cece had been.

  Cece winced and let Henrietta’s hand drop. “Not precisely.” She bit her lip, praying her friend wouldn’t be shocked by her wantonness. “He assumed the whole thing meant the two of us should be married immediately, as if I had lured him into bed to accomplish an engagement.”

  “But you didn’t,” Henrietta said, only a hint of a question in her eyes.

  Cece shrugged. “I might have agreed to his proposal if he hadn’t been so boorish about it. But it infuriates me that men can be so high-handed when it comes to these things, that they can carry out any number of affairs without impunity, but the moment we decide to enjoy ourselves, wedding bells must ring.”

  Henrietta laughed with far more energy than Cece would have expected. “Yes, it is unfair, isn’t it?”

  Cece gaped at her, realizing she didn’t know her new friend as well as she thought she did. “Are you….” she began, hesitated, cleared her throat and went on, just above a whisper. “Have you had affairs since your husband’s death?”

  “No,” Henrietta answered, still appearing amused. “But if given the opportunity….” Her smile widened as she glanced at the group of Reese’s guests waiting to depart for Albany Court. Several were single men, Reese and Rupert’s friends. Henrietta hummed appreciatively, then turned back to Cece. “My late husband, Richard, wasn’t a terribly passionate man, but we did enjoy our time together. At least until his health made it impossible.” A wistful look filled her eyes.

  “Do you miss him?” Cece asked, suddenly realizing she knew very little about the late Lord Tavistock.

  “I do,” Henrietta answered slowly. “Ours was not a love match, but he was a good man. To tell you the truth, I am a bit jealous of the fiery passion you and Lord Stanhope have, even though I know it causes a thousand frustrations for you.”

  It was Cece’s turn to laugh. “And here I’ve been admiring you for being free of the bonds lust brings with it.”

  “Oh, I am certainly not free of those bonds,” Henrietta said with a mysterious smile, glancing down the line of carriages again. Lord O’Shea, of all people, glanced in their direction as she did. He caught her glance, smiled, and touched the brim of his hat. “I’m not immune to lust at all.”

  Cece’s brow shot up and she instantly began plotting a hundred ways to steer Henrietta and Lord O’Shea into each other’s company. But those grand plans were squashed a moment later as a new wave of arrivals poured through the station exit, Lady Claudia Denbigh and—Lord help them—her brother with her.

  “This does not bode well,” Henrietta said in a wary voice.

  She started toward the Denbighs, Cece following. Rupert—who had joined his friends while Cece and Henrietta were talking—furrowed his brow at her curiously, then turned to see what they were marching toward. He scowled at the sight of Lord Denbigh, but it was Lady Claudia whom he should have been wary of.

  “Lord Stanhope.” Lady Claudia greeted him with an effusion of joy. She sent a pointed look Cece’s way before sweeping up to Rupert’s side and gripping his arm tightly. “You see? I told you we’d meet again soon. I am so looking forward to traversing the hedge maze of Albany Court with you, just as you promised we would.” She sent another, gloating look to Cece.

  Cece wasn’t fooled for a moment. The split-second of annoyance in Rupert’s eyes before he smiled politely at Lady Claudia was all it took for Cece to be convinced she had nothing to worry about. Which was why it was doubly annoying when Rupert said, “I shall be delighted to show you the hedge maze at your earliest convenience, Lady Claudia.”

  He sent a challenging look in Cece’s direction, but Cece refused to give him the satisfaction of tweaking her nose. “Does this mean our group has all arrived and that we are ready to depart for Albany Court?” she asked Hen
rietta, ignoring Rupert entirely.

  “I believe it does,” Henrietta said, the cleverness of her smile telling Cece that she wasn’t fooled by the display either. “There should be enough room for all of us if we budge up,” she said in a loud voice. “Even though more people have arrived than we were expecting.” She stared directly at Lord Denbigh as she spoke.

  “I am here to protect my sister from some of the more undesirable elements that have somehow been invited to this party,” Lord Denbigh answered with only a slight nod. He didn’t have to point to Lord O’Shea for everyone to know whom he meant.

  Henrietta’s smile widened, and she turned to Lord O’Shea and said, “I would be most gratified if you and some of your friends would ride in the lead carriage with me and Lady Cecelia, Lord O’Shea.”

  Lord Denbigh’s superior look hardened into a peevish frown. Lord O’Shea, however, looked delighted. “It would be my pleasure, Lady Tavistock,” he said.

  “And you must ride with me,” Lady Claudia said, gripping Rupert’s arm tighter when he attempted to move forward with Lord O’Shea and his other friends. “Wouldn’t it be grand if we could have a carriage all to ourselves?”

  “I’m not certain your brother would approve,” Rupert grumbled.

  Indeed, Lord Denbigh looked as though he wanted to wring Rupert’s neck. Cece wasn’t certain whether she should be alarmed or amused at the turn of events. She headed up the row of carriages by Henrietta’s side, peeking over her shoulder to make certain Rupert made it into the carriage nearest him in one piece.

  The ride out to Albany Court was snugger than Cece was used to. In addition to her, Henrietta, and Lord O’Shea, Henrietta’s brother, Lord Herrington, and Lord Landsbury crowded into the front carriage as well. But as tightly packed as they were—especially the three men, who sat shoulder to shoulder in the rear-facing seat—Cece spent most of the ride trying not to giggle.

  “The three of you paint quite the picture, wedged together as you are,” Henrietta said as their carriage trundled along the road. Her eyebrow flickered up, and given what she had just said to Cece about lust, there was no mistaking her deeper feelings on the picture in front of her.

  “We are yours to command this week, my lady,” Lord O’Shea said, his accent particularly lilting as he smiled back at her.

  “Are you?” Henrietta’s smile reached a level of coquettishness that Cece had never seen from her before.

  “Of course,” Lord Landsbury said, mischief bright in his eyes.

  “Beware of my sister,” Lord Herrington said. “She’ll have us all standing on our heads if we’re not careful.”

  “I would ask no such thing, Freddy, and you know it,” she said, kicking her brother’s shin lightly. “But I do have a mission for you.”

  “Oh? Do tell,” Lord O’Shea said, his green eyes dancing.

  Cece bristled with excitement as well, filled with the feeling that she was about to be on the inside of a joke.

  To her surprise, Henrietta glanced briefly at her before saying, “I’m sure as friends of Lord Stanhope you have all observed his recent, unforgivable behavior to my friend here, Lady Cecelia.”

  The three men instantly looked so guilty that Cece had no doubt Rupert had failed to be circumspect with his friends when it came to their relationship. The heat of embarrassment made her squirm in her seat.

  “We are aware of the situation, yes,” Lord O’Shea answered, sending Cece a reassuring glance. “You must know, Lady Cecelia, we do not necessarily condone Rupert’s behavior toward you.”

  The other two nodded in agreement.

  Cece’s brow shot up. “Oh?”

  They seemed reluctant to answer that ambiguous question, so Henrietta went on with, “Lady Claudia appears to want to get her claws in Rupert.”

  The three men laughed.

  “Rupert has eyes only for you, Lady Cecelia,” Lord Landsbury said with a gracious nod.

  “I know,” Cece answered uncertainly.

  “We all know,” Henrietta added. “All of England knows.”

  “Except Lady Claudia,” Lord Herrington muttered.

  “Lord Stanhope seems to be intent on pretending to have an interest in Lady Claudia,” Henrietta went on.

  She didn’t need to say more.

  “We told him not to,” Lord O’Shea said with a sigh and a roll of his eyes. “We told him he was a damned fool for being crafty like that, begging your pardon.” He nodded to Cece.

  “No offense taken,” Cece said. She wished she had the freedom to swear herself.

  “Keeping that in mind,” Henrietta went on, her smile growing, “I would be exceptionally grateful if you would take it upon yourselves to lavish attention on Lady Cecelia this week.”

  A shiver of dread went down Cece’s spine. “Oh, I’m not certain that—”

  “We’d love to,” Lord O’Shea said, smiling broadly at her.

  “Rupert is already half convinced Reese—that is, Lord Howsden—has designs on you,” Lord Herrington said in a stilted voice.

  “Feeding his worst fears for a bit might be fun,” Lord Landsbury said with a broad smile. “If you wouldn’t mind, my lady.”

  “But what good would it do to attempt to make Rupert jealous?” Cece sighed. “He knows how I feel about him, and vice versa.”

  “It would be fun.” Lord O’Shea shrugged, or at least tried to. He sat in the middle of the three, broad-shouldered gentlemen, and the gesture rubbed up against both of them. “It’s always fun to play tricks on a mate.”

  “If you say so,” Cece said warily.

  “It will be a reminder for him to not take things for granted,” Henrietta said, touching Cece’s hand in solidarity. “Every man needs a reminder not to take the women in his life for granted.” She sent her brother a look before turning her smile to Lord O’Shea.

  “Agreed, my lady,” Lord O’Shea said with a smile and a nod.

  The carriages turned a corner and headed through a large gate and onto the grounds of Albany Court moments later. Cece knew the estate was vast, but seeing it for herself—the wide, green fields stretching in all directions, the ancient woods to the north, a flicker of sunlight dancing on the river to the east, and the shining, white stones that lined the drive and several walking paths—left her with a feeling of awe. The house itself was just as impressive, rising up in several stories of Jacobean excellence. A row of servants were ready and waiting at the foot of the small terrace that led to the front door, and Reese himself stood by, ready to greet them all with a smile.

  “Welcome to my humble home,” he said, stepping forward to offer Cece a hand down as soon as the carriages had stopped.

  “It’s hardly humble,” Lord Herrington said, hopping down from the carriage first and greeting Reese with an eager smile.

  For a moment, Cece thought the two men would embrace, but Lord Landsbury and Lord O’Shea clambered out of the carriage before they could.

  “We’ve a plan to rub Rupert’s nose in it a bit,” Lord O’Shea said in a quiet voice as Reese offered his hand to Cece. “We’re all going to pretend to be in love with Lady Cecelia in order to show Rupert up. Are you in?”

  Cece sent Reese a guilty look as he helped her down, her feet crunching on the gravel. “It’s a silly idea,” she murmured. “You don’t have to.”

  An unusual hint of mischief sparkled in Reese’s eyes. “Oh, but of course I do,” he said, leading her a few steps away from the carriage and into an open space before bowing decorously and kissing her hand with lingering intensity. When he was done, he glanced up at her and winked.

  Cece wanted to roll her eyes. Rupert’s friends were all a bunch of grubby boys dressed as full-grown men. But she had to admit to a certain degree of satisfaction when she caught sight of Rupert looking forlornly in her direction as Reese took her arm and stood scandalously close to her as he escorted her up the steps and into his house. Perhaps there was fun to be had in reminding him that he wasn’t the only eligible gentleman of
her acquaintance after all. The house party was shaping up to be far more interesting than she’d expected it to be, and it had only just begun.

  Chapter 14

  Albany Court was the ideal setting for a house party. Reese’s family’s ancestral estate dated back to the sixteenth century, and everywhere one turned, gorgeous examples of architecture that traced the course of English history abounded. The original house, built during the reign of Henry VIII, stood at the far southern end of the gardens in all its Tudor glory. The main house had been designed and constructed by one of the finest architects of the reign of James I and looked more like a palace than a family home. The estate had been a stronghold for the Cavaliers during the Civil War and had prospered and expanded through the Georgian kingships and into the current era. It was a model of horticultural planning, an idyll in the swiftly-disappearing countryside around London, and at the moment, it was teeming with young and enthusiastic aristocrats, happy to enjoy each other’s company just outside of the sharp eye of society.

  Rupert glanced around him as he stood by the edge of a spreading lawn that had been set up with a badminton court, croquet wickets, and even archery targets, scowling. The ladies of the May Flowers were beautiful, lively, and giving the gentlemen a run for their money in the various competitions. The gentlemen didn’t seem to mind at all and lavished attention on the ladies. A few of the married couples had already disappeared from the group at large, leaving no one in any doubt of what they’d gone off to do. The entire party had a hint of the scandalous about it, as though all present had agreed to turn a blind eye to goings on.

  Which was precisely why Rupert was ready to crawl out of his skin in frustration. He paced from the cluster of chairs where Lady Tavistock was holding court to the edge of the badminton net—which no one was using at the moment—his frown fixed on the group of gentlemen crowding around Cece as she took a turn at archery.