A Lady’s First Scandal

by Farmer, Merry

  “I simply could not be bothered to attend,” Lady Claudia said, her nose in the air. “No lady worth her salt would have been caught dead larking about in the presence of rough men and undesirable sorts.”

  Her friends made sounds of agreement. Rupert was surprised to find that she had so many of them. In fact, the entire room seemed to be separated into halves—those who supported Lady Claudia and those who supported Lady Tavistock.

  “Lord’s is one of the premier cricket clubs in London,” Cece said, stepping forward and narrowing her eyes at Lady Claudia. “Nearly all of the gentlemen present were of the titled class, and those who weren’t are highly respected gentlemen.”

  Rupert wondered if the likes of Lady Claudia would feel that way about Jack Craig. As far as he was concerned, Jack was the very best of men for going out of his way to catch the men who had hurt Fergus and attempting to prove that Denbigh was involved.

  Lady Claudia scoffed at Cece’s statement. “I shouldn’t be surprised that a woman of such low character as you would call the dregs who were involved in that farce of a match gentlemen.”

  A few of the ladies gasped at the audacity of the statement. Cece stood her ground, her back straight and her expression implacable.

  “Every one of us knows the true message of today’s attack,” she said, taking over the position of authority from Lady Tavistock. “This was a crime of hate and nothing else. Hatred against the Irish. But that hatred is not only misplaced and shameful, it is directly counter to the mission of the May Flowers.”

  Lady Claudia laughed dismissively. “The mission of the May Flowers is to advance our political causes with the men in our lives who have the power to mold and shape this country. It is a disgrace that any of us should so much as think of supporting those brutish and ignorant Irishmen in any way. They are nothing better than peasants, and all of them should be treated as such.”

  A flurry of comments and exclamations rose up, both in favor of the Irish and against them, throughout the room. Cece said something to Lady Claudia, but the din was too much for Rupert to hear until the ladies realized the debate was ongoing and quieted themselves.

  “…disgrace that such ignorant opinions should be associated with our noble cause at all,” Cece finished.

  “Disgrace?” Lady Claudia’s brow shot up and a look of sharp offense painted her sour face. “The disgrace is the way your lot have torn an otherwise peaceful and productive organization, such as ours, asunder. The disgrace is how you and your ridiculous insistence on Irish Home Rule will tear the entire Liberal Party apart. If we truly want to have the political influence we claim to long for, we need to thrust aside this feckless and ill-advised insistence on any rights at all for the Irish and stick determinedly to the Unionist cause.”

  Another rush of sound from the assembled ladies gave Rupert the sense that the May Flowers were so much like Parliament in their form of debate that there was virtually no difference. The women had gravitated to their own sides of the room and hurled insults at each other as vehemently as any elected minister or lord did in their own chamber. It filled him with an incongruous sense of pride and confidence in them and their ability to grasp the issues that formed the bedrock of political debate in England. With that pride came the startling thought that perhaps women should be admitted into positions of public power after all. They certainly knew how to debate those issues.

  “If this organization or the Liberal Party has been damaged at all,” Cece continued the debate, “it is because callous prejudice has outweighed moral rightness and progress. I refuse to stand by any longer and listen to an entire nation be denigrated by ignorance and small-mindedness. The Irish are as capable of ruling themselves and thriving as a nation as any people. We, as women, should be supporting their efforts as they reflect our own. Any class of people that works to suppress a group of men based on their nationality will most assuredly work to stifle the voices of women. We have gained much in recent history, but we have so far to go. Women are permitted to attend university, but not to sit exams or be granted a degree. We may attend medical school and become doctors, but we may not practice in any hospital or on Harley Street. We gained the right to maintain control of our property upon entering marriage, but we are still nothing but glorified children without a husband. If the May Flowers are to have any chance of changing these circumstances going forward, we must support the rights of all people, Irish, working class, and even the people of the nations far and wide that we have colonized. Their future is our future.”

  Cece’s speech was met by a moment of stunned silence. Even those sitting on her side of the room gaped at her, as though she’d told them all they should run around naked in public. Indeed, her views were some of the most radical Rupert had ever heard, but he had never been so proud of her in his life. He couldn’t help but applaud her words, even though it drew attention and was likely to end in him being thrown out.

  But rather than sending every eye in the room toward him, his applause was joined by that of a good portion of the other women in the room. The applause grew and swelled, filling the room with noise and Rupert’s heart with inspiration. Suddenly, he understood. This was the woman he loved. She demanded respect and power, not for herself, but to serve and protect her home and her empire. Her goals were the same as his, but this was the army she needed to join and this was the battle she was born to fight.

  “This is an outrage,” Lady Claudia screamed over the applause, effectively silencing it. “Have you all lost your minds? This is not how English womankind should identify ourselves. We are and always have been the moral underpinnings of society, quietly working for the elevation of hearts and minds and advocating for the proper order, established by God. We are not a bunch of slathering revolutionaries.”

  “Perhaps we should be,” Lady Beatrice shouted.

  She was met by cheers of “Hear, hear,” from the ladies on her side of the room and outraged gasps from the others.

  “I refuse to continue to be a part of an organization that has become a walking, breathing scandal,” Lady Claudia roared on. “If this is what the May Flowers has become, then I want no part of it.”

  “No one is keeping you here,” Lady Tavistock said, looking like a general or an avenging angel. “Membership in this organization is certainly not mandatory.”

  “Are you saying you want to banish me, then?” Lady Claudia squeaked, a picture of fury.

  “I believe you are saying that you no longer wish to be associated with us,” Cece said.

  “I do not,” Lady Claudia snapped. She stood where she was for a moment, glaring at Cece and Lady Tavistock. A prickly silence filled the room. It was as though Lady Claudia and her friends were waiting to either be dismissed outright or for someone to beg them to stay. Neither happened, and so Lady Claudia huffed and jerked her chin up. “I see how it is, then,” she said. “I hereby resign from the May Flowers.” She turned to her side of the room. “And I suggest that any of you who wish to avoid scandal and ignominy, any of you who wish to truly uphold the values of English femininity, resign as well.”

  She waited for only a second before turning her back on Cece and Lady Tavistock and marching through the aisle between chairs toward the door. The two friends who had come in with her did the same, then nearly half of the rest of the ladies stood and followed as well.

  As she reached the back of the room, Lady Claudia spotted Rupert. She sent him a look of such loathing that it was hard for Rupert to believe that less than a week ago, she had been flirting with him. He couldn’t let the moment pass.

  “Have a care, Lady Claudia,” he said in a quiet voice. “Your brother will be held responsible for today’s attack.”

  Lady Claudia blanched, but said nothing. She picked up her pace, leading the mass exodus from the room.

  The gaping hole left by Lady Claudia and her supporters was instantly filled with noise and anxious chatter as the rest of the ladies stood and spread out, mingling with each oth
er. Rupert stayed where he was, still reluctant to interfere in Cece’s affairs, but as soon as she spotted him, she leaned close to Lady Tavistock and said something. A moment later, the two women pushed their way through the roiling crowd of their supporters to meet Rupert at the back of the room.

  “She’s not wrong,” Rupert said as they reached him.

  “I beg your pardon?” Cece asked, blinking and looking offended.

  “About the split in the Liberal Party,” he went on, speaking as he would to any of his male friends. Cece’s offense vanished, and determination took its place. “The Liberal Party is on the verge of fracturing, thanks to this very issue.”

  “This is the defining moment of our times,” Cece agreed. “We must meet the challenge with strength.”

  “There is strength in numbers,” Lady Tavistock said, glancing anxiously over her shoulder at the greatly depleted May Flowers. “I wasn’t expecting half of our members to walk out.”

  “It doesn’t matter if they have,” Cece told her. “We are firm in our mission, and if each of us has to work harder to accomplish it, then so be it.”

  “Perhaps you could rally more women to your cause,” Rupert suggested. “I’m quite certain there are a wealth of women in London who share your views and who would be willing to stand up for them. Women that, perhaps, were held back before because of the likes of Lady Claudia.”

  “Do you mean non-aristocratic women?” Lady Tavistock asked, inspiration lighting her eyes.

  Rupert shrugged. “And my sisters.”

  Lady Tavistock smiled. A moment later, Cece smiled as well. “Bianca would be just the rabble-rouser we need,” she said, nearly laughing.

  “But are we ready for her?” Lady Tavistock asked.

  “No one is ever quite ready for Bianca,” Rupert said.

  Lady Tavistock let out a wry laugh, then turned to Cece. “I cannot do this alone. I need a first mate to help steer the ship.”

  Cece’s face lit up. “I would be honored to lead the May Flowers along with you.”

  “Thank you.” Lady Tavistock reached for her hand and squeezed it. Some of her certainty vanished as she turned to Rupert. “Have you heard anything further about Lord O’Shea?”

  Rupert’s heart sank and he shook his head. “Not as of yet. But we will let you know as soon as we hear anything.” He glanced to Cece for confirmation, and she nodded.

  The room was already emptying. Lady Tavistock turned to survey her remaining guests before saying, “I have so much to attend to. Thank you for coming, my dear, and thank you for standing by my side.”

  “It is an honor,” Cece replied.

  The two women embraced, then Lady Tavistock headed into the cluster of ladies that remained to reassure them that all would be well.

  Cece turned to Rupert. “So now you know exactly what sort of a radical I am.”

  Rupert couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, I do.” He offered his arm to her.

  Cece took it and they started out of the room. “I suppose you’re going to drag me home and lecture me about how I should have more propriety and be less outspoken.”

  Rupert hummed, pretending to think the matter over as they walked through the hall, and then out into the street after one of the maids handed Cece her hat and gloves. “No, that wasn’t what I was thinking I wanted to do with you.”

  “Oh?” Cece asked, genuinely surprised. “What then?”

  Rupert didn’t answer. He grinned as mysteriously as he could and whisked Cece down the swiftly darkening street.

  “Rupert,” she said in a teasing voice. “We’re going the wrong way.”

  “No we aren’t,” he said. “For the first time in a long time, we’re going exactly where we should.”

  Chapter 20

  Cece’s insides roiled and bubbled and sparked with excess energy from the May Flowers meeting. She should have seen a split coming. She should have guessed that Lady Claudia wouldn’t meekly go along with Henrietta’s progressive agenda. That didn’t stop her from bouncing back and forth between anger and inspiration as Rupert whisked her down the street, dodging men and women of all classes who were on their way either home or out for the night.

  Rupert was the other thing that made her buzz as though she’d eaten something exotic and spicy. He’d witnessed the entire meeting, and not only had he not taken her to task, he seemed to embrace the new path she’d just started down.

  “Marlowe House is the other way,” she said, glancing sideways at him and hoping he would reveal where they were going.

  “So it is,” he replied with a mischievous grin.

  A shiver of excitement zipped through Cece, centering in her heart, which beat wildly as he picked up his pace. She knew Mayfair well and couldn’t imagine where they were going. Unless….

  “Campbell House,” she said, trying not to be disappointed.

  “Exactly,” Rupert answered, still grinning from ear to ear.

  So much for whisking her off to an exotic rendezvous or an illicit evening at a hotel. The house she’d grown up in didn’t inspire her with feelings of anticipation, but it did bring with it a certain sense of comfort.

  At least, not until Rupert swept her through the front door—which he opened himself as none of the servants seemed to be on hand to open it for them—then drew her into his arms the moment the door clicked shut.

  He kissed her with a mad passion that had her wanting to giggle and sigh at the same time. His mouth was demanding against hers, but he also seemed to be worshiping her with his lips and tongue. He pressed the length of his torso against her, sliding one hand up her side to cradle her breast through the stiff fabric of her dress and corset. The sudden, breathless sensation had her feeling dizzy and aroused in a moment. She slipped her arms around his waist, burrowing under his jacket to come as close to touching him as possible, and gave herself to his kiss.

  A moment later, he broke their kiss and gazed longingly into her eyes. “You truly were brilliant this evening,” he said in a voice like a purring cat about to pounce. “Like a general rousing the troops.”

  Cece grinned, shifting her arms to his shoulders so that she could run her fingers through his hair. “And you always have been a good soldier.”

  His grin matched hers, and he tugged her close for another commanding kiss. The swiftly-shifting dynamic of power between them left her pulsing and overheated and willing to do just about anything to get out of her dress, no matter how shocking and ill-advised it would be.

  Again, Rupert stopped ravishing her and leaned back, but this time his expression was soberer. “If this is not a good time, I understand. Your May Flowers have just undergone an upheaval, and if you think it inappropriate to—”

  She silenced him by lifting to her toes and slanting her mouth over his in a way that brooked no further argument. She had never felt so energized, and even though the situation with the May Flowers was alarming, she had a mountain of excess energy and only one plan for how to burn it.

  Rupert sighed deeply and tightened his arms around her. His tongue played with hers, teasing and tasting. Cece could just feel the press of his arousal against her belly through the damnable layers of her dress.

  Rupert seemed to share her feelings about the impracticality of fashion. He slid his hand down her back only to encounter an enormous bustle. “Damn these ridiculous things,” he said, humor and lust in his eyes as he leaned away from her. “How is a man supposed to enjoy the perfection of a woman’s backside with these things?”

  Cece sent him a mischievous smile. “We’ll just have to remove it.”

  It was all the encouragement Rupert needed. Bustle and all, he swept her into his arms—which made Cece yelp in surprise—and charged for the stairs. A thrill shot through her at his strength and agility as he took the stairs two at a time, then veered off to the hall where his bedroom was. Just like the night of the ball, she knew exactly what would happen when he shut the door behind them, set her on her feet, and slanted his mouth
over hers once more, but this time she welcomed him with the eagerness of experience instead of the determination of innocence.

  She fumbled with the buttons of his jacket, and when she undid them, pushed the whole garment off his shoulders. Rupert managed to continue kissing her while shrugging and drawing his arms out of the sleeves, then tossing it aside. He had less success keeping up with kisses as he toed off his shoes and kicked them aside, then unfastened his trousers. Cece giggled at his enthusiasm in spite of the lust pouring through her.

  “Clothes truly are a waste of time,” she said breathlessly as she went to work on the buttons of his waistcoat.

  “We should spend the rest of our lives naked so that we can be ready to enjoy each other at a moment’s notice.”

  Cece laughed, full of so much joy that it made her dizzy. When Rupert stepped away to shed his waistcoat and shrug out of his suspenders, she reached behind her and did her best to undo the fastenings of her skirt. It was maddening, slow work, though, and long before she could do more than tug a few ties, Rupert had discarded all of his clothes and stood before her, naked and aroused.

  She caught her breath at the sight of him and her fingers refused to work at all. She would never grow tired of the lean lines of his torso, the strength in his chest and arms, and especially not of the bold thickness of his erection as it stood straight and tall with desire. Scintillating memories of the way he felt in her hands and the way he moved inside of her left her smoldering and eager to feel it all again.

  “I repeat,” he said, stalking boldly closer to her. “Clothing is a bloody nuisance.”

  He tugged her close, but rather than kissing her once more, he lifted her into his arms and carried her a few steps to the desk against one wall. He sat her on the edge of the desk, then reached for the hem of her skirts.

  “What are you doing?” she laughed. “The fastenings are in the back and you have to—oh!”

  He bunched the mountain of her skirts around her hips and managed to wedge himself between her legs as she spoke. Her words were cut off entirely as he pushed aside the split in her drawers and buried himself deep inside of her. The invasion was so sudden and so glorious that Cece was utterly carried away. Rupert gripped her hips under the pile of her skirts and thrust into her with surprising strength and purpose. The whole thing was so wild and mad and sudden and she was so primed and ready that she burst into throbbing orgasm before she could orient herself.