Have Yourself a Merry Little Scandal: a Christmas collection of Historical Romance (Have Yourself a Merry Little... Book 1)

by Anna Campbell

  “Ben—”

  A sharp knock at the door interrupted her.

  “Not now!” she shouted.

  But the knock came again, longer and even louder.

  “For the love of God,” Delilah snapped, gripping the sides of the tub and hauling herself to her feet. “The Temple better be ablaze. Do not move, my duke. I shall be right back.”

  Hastily drying herself with a linen towel then snatching up her quilted robe, Delilah donned it as she stalked to the connecting door and opened it a few inches. “Yes?”

  “Beg pardon, ma’am,” said the maid, hopping from one foot to the other. “I know you are enjoying some private time. But downstairs is in an uproar.”

  “Why?” asked Delilah, almost afraid to hear the answer.

  “Today’s scandal sheet. Look.”

  Her heart plummeted to her toes at the headlines.

  HIS GRACE DISGRACED

  Duke of T Corrupted by London’s Mistress of Sin

  Friends Lament Shocking Violence and Debauchery

  “Oh God,” she whispered.

  “That’s not all, ma’am,” said the maid miserably. “Lady Judith and Lord Preston are waiting to see you. We didn’t want to bring them up to your parlor if they are unwelcome, so put them in the gaming hell. But that drunk from yesterday, Lord Fletcher, is here too. And his father, Lord Hurst. They want satisfaction for Lord Fletcher’s...um...injuries.”

  Bitter frustration clawed her. Of course this would happen after a perfect night with Ben: a situation that couldn’t be ignored. “Ha. Satisfaction meaning groveling apologies and a bank draft. I can guess who the newspaper ‘friend’ is as well.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Taking a deep breath for composure, Delilah smiled briskly at the maid. “One more favor, then you may go to the kitchens and enjoy tea and cake. Run downstairs and fetch that clerk costume for His Grace to wear again. His own clothing requires laundering.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said the young woman, before hurrying away.

  She trudged back to the bathing area, scandal sheet in hand, practically drooping further with each step. “I’m afraid you’ll also have to get out of the bath.”

  Ben looked at her, his gaze wary. “The Temple is ablaze? Or are you throwing me out again?”

  “Neither. This,” she replied, showing him the scandal sheet.

  “Bloody hell,” he snarled, splashing water onto the floor as he jerked to his feet and climbed out of the tub. “I shouldn’t have punched that friend in the stomach, I should have dressed him in armor and hurled him into the Thames.”

  “Forgive me—”

  “This is not your fault.”

  “I declined his application. I should add that Fletcher and Hurst are downstairs and demanding satisfaction for injuries. Your sister and brother-in-law are here as well.”

  “Christ.”

  “Indeed,” Delilah replied, at a loss. “Perhaps this is the wrong thing to say, but should you require a witness, an accomplice, or an alibi, I am here.”

  Naked, dripping with water, Ben pulled her close and kissed her fiercely. She twined her arms about his neck and melted against him, even as she despaired it could be their last embrace. The whole of London knew about their affair now, and members of his family were furious enough to storm the building at an impolite hour…

  A knock interrupted them again, and she forced herself to step back, before rushing to the door. Ben’s change of clothing had been delivered.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I am to be a clerk again?”

  “An encore performance. I thought better this than wrinkled and torn evening clothing; you might want to burn those garments rather than letting your valet see the state of them if he’s anything like my tailor.”

  “An excellent point,” he replied, drying himself with the linen towel. “I’ll also take this opportunity to apologize on behalf of Judith and Preston. I’m unsure what they are thinking or feeling, but they are both forthright and may speak out of turn. I haven’t told them about us.”

  Delilah blinked. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

  “They’ll know my mind soon enough.”

  After dressing, they made their way downstairs. With each step her stomach churned with trepidation, although at least it wouldn’t gurgle with hunger; tea and buttered toast had been brought up to her chamber with the hot water earlier.

  In the entrance hall Delilah couldn’t stop herself smoothing his jacket; he in turn tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She hated feeling like this, as though they’d done something wrong and were being summoned in front of a magistrate, when the only wrongdoer was that bloody scoundrel Fletcher. But as Ben had followed her lead when confronting the lord previously, she needed to follow his when it came to his family.

  She glanced heavenward, before pushing open the gaming hell door.

  “Glad you could join us. Let’s speak on disgrace, debauchery, and violence, shall we?” said Lady Judith, her voice colder than the Arctic in winter.

  Oh God.

  It was far worse than she’d thought.

  After his beloved father had passed, the trustees had taught him to suppress and conceal his true feelings and remain impassively dignified at all times. To view comfort and pleasure as crutches unbecoming of a duke. Delilah had freed him from such absurdness, and with that freedom in understanding his true self, had come the strength and desire to be his own man. To break away from the chains of obligation, and set some new expectations of his own.

  In future, Bennett Innsworth would be the duke he wanted to be. However, first he had to see to his family and ensure they didn’t inadvertently do damage with their well-meaning but blunt speech.

  “Exactly which aspect of disgrace, debauchery, and violence,” he said to Judith, “do you wish to discuss? I’m afraid I haven’t had time to read the story.”

  “For starters, I would like to know who would be such a poor friend, such a complete bacon-brained scapegrace, that they would make you front-page news,” snapped his sister.

  Bennett relaxed, rather relieved that was Judith’s opening arrow flurry rather than pointed words aimed at his lover. “So odd how these friends always prefer to remain anonymous.”

  Delilah scowled at Fletcher. “Anyone who did that could never call himself a gentleman.”

  Lord Hurst coughed. “It is quite obvious, Tunbury, that Mrs. Forbes has changed you for the worse. One of my servants saw you strolling in Cheapside. I’m told one morning you remained in your robe and declined a shave while you packed baskets. Most shocking of all, you punched my son in the stomach twice and forcibly removed him from this establishment. All shameful behaviors far, far beneath the dignity of a duke. After everything I’ve done for you, that I’ve been forced to darken this doorstep is beyond disappointing.”

  Bennett glared at the elderly earl who had directed his life for so long; an entire decade of rules, lectures, and scoldings. Yet he couldn’t deny a part of him still winced at hearing the word ‘disappointing’. The other two trustees might have occasionally shouted and waved their hands about, however Hurst never raised his voice, just delivered all those harsh and soul-destroying words in his low monotone. But Bennett was too angry now. Too entirely finished with dancing to the tune of a man who had not only inflicted terrible harm on a grieving lad, but remained such a complete hypocrite when it came to the bad behavior of his own offspring.

  He shrugged as though utterly indifferent. “Cheapside is a perfectly respectable area that also happens to house Wickham’s Confectionery, the finest in London. In regard to clothing and the state of my jaw, what I decide to do in the privacy of my own home is no one’s business but mine. As for punching Fletcher, I really should have done so years ago. No one deserves it more.”

  “I beg your pardon?” spluttered the viscount. “I deserve to be punched? How dare you!”

  Bennett’s temper boiled over. “Oh, I dare, and I would do so again, you go
ddamned bloody cretin. You think you are clever with your insults and nicknames. You are not. You think you are a man to be admired as you stagger around half-sotted with the Prince Regent and his cronies and raise your voice in front of businesswomen. You are not. You think you have all the consequence in the world, when you do nothing but cling to your father’s coattails and hide behind him instead of repairing your own mistakes—”

  “Now, Tunbury,” said Lord Hurst, his eyes growing wider by the second. “That is overly harsh.”

  Unable to hide his scorn any longer, Bennett snorted. “It is not, my lord. You do your son no favors in constantly indulging him. Last night he arrived here to create a scene and ruin the Temple’s reputation for sport; all because he was refused membership as any hostess with good business sense would have done. I thought I made it clear yesterday that he should not return, and yet here he is…with Papa in tow, as per usual. The only thing that is beneath my ducal dignity is wasting any more time on either of you. Delilah Forbes is magnificent in every way, and if finding joy in the arms of the woman I love makes me debauched and disgraced, then so be it. Consider me quite fallen.”

  A range of sounds echoed in the cavernous gaming hell. Applause from his brother-in-law. A muffled cough from Judith. But the two men he’d just unleashed upon were thoroughly outraged, gasping like landed trout and with such red faces it was a wonder they didn’t explode.

  Lord Hurst rose to his feet. “You are young, Tunbury. And shockingly ungrateful.”

  “No, my lord. I am most grateful you did not steal money from my coffers, and for teaching me estate management. The rest I shall discard, for it is not useful to the man I truly am, or truly wish to be. So I shall bid you farewell. Forever. Oh, and one final point: your son is not, never was, and never will be my friend. Good day.”

  “Really, Tun, this is quite beyond the pale,” said Fletcher peevishly as he stood, shoving his chair behind him so it clattered onto the floor.

  Bennett gestured to the gaming hell entrance. “Not Tun. I am the Duke of Tunbury. And I said good day.”

  The two men marched in affront to the door, and when it closed behind them, Bennett braced his hands on the card table, just to reorder his thoughts. Judith and Preston were staring openmouthed at him now, and he really wasn’t in the mood to explain. In truth, the only reaction he needed to see was Delilah’s, considering what he’d announced about her.

  Turning his head, he met her startled gaze. “Sweetheart?”

  “I’m so proud of you for putting those two wretches in their place after all the hurtful things they’ve done,” she said slowly. “But you said…you love me?”

  His sister leaped to her feet. “Yes. He does. Bennett confessed to Preston and me several nights ago, although he did not provide your name. But it troubled me then as it troubles me now—”

  “Judith,” Bennett bit out. “Can you not hold your peace for one damned minute?”

  She held up a hand, utterly unrepentant. “Let me finish. What troubled me was your sadness, for it seemed that your mystery woman did not feel the same way. I want you to know the happiness of loving someone and being loved in return, like Papa and Mama. Like me and Preston. Not crushed under the boulder of unrequited love and then marrying someone you don’t even like, from a blasted list those three old windbags wrote.”

  “I won’t be doing that.”

  “Well then,” said Judith, her face brightening. “As you were.”

  “Why thank you.”

  Bennett turned and reached for Delilah’s hand to interlace their fingers. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I love you. Your intelligence, your business acumen, your openness, all wrapped up in a very attractive bow of sunshine smile and luscious curves.”

  She darted a look at Judith and Preston, her lips twitching. “If you are going to be all romantic and wicked, we should probably retire upstairs.”

  “I think not,” said Preston, leaning forward on his chair. “I’m invested now and need to know the end of the story. Tunbury has declared himself, now the only thing left is how you feel, Mrs. Forbes. Then we’ll trot away and see you another night. I greatly enjoyed the latest lecture on leather dildos by the way, most enlightening.”

  “Beg pardon?” said Bennett in surprise. “You’re members here?”

  “Quite. Judy and I particularly like the—”

  “Hush up, Preston,” said his wife. “Mrs. Forbes, you were saying?”

  Bennett glanced ruefully at Delilah. Thank God he’d already apologized for his family and their tendency to just talk.

  She took a visibly deep breath. Here it was. The verdict.

  Would it be his heaven or hell?

  Ben loved her.

  After everything, this fact brought her inner chaos to a soothing halt. Now she could breathe again, knowing she’d found a man who didn’t require her to be quieter or thinner, more ladylike or less business-minded. A man who supported her unreservedly, actually listened, and pleasured her until she screamed with the sheer bliss of it.

  Delilah bit her lip to halt the biggest, most wayward grin in the history of the world, and squeezed Bennett’s hand. “How I feel. Hmmm. There I was, attending a hospital fundraising meeting in a Curzon Street drawing room with Naomi—you remember your favorite confectioner Mrs. Wickham—eating pastries and listening to gossip when I heard a thoroughly disagreeable story.”

  “Oh?” he murmured, his silver gaze intent.

  “Two women were discussing how a young lady might land a big fish like yourself; I believe it involved a torn gown, turned ankle, or hair dishevelment in a secluded alcove. You weren’t Ben, just a title with a bank account. Naomi said I hissed like a boiling kettle.”

  He grinned. “Now that would have been a sight. A duel at the afternoon tea table.”

  “Pastries are no laughing matter, Your Grace. But I wanted to fly at them with fang and claw because no way would that young lady understand or care for you like I did. Fortunately I was escorted from the premises before lives were lost. Only then did I know for sure, that what we had wasn’t just amusement or extraordinary lust, but something far more. I’ve nearly blurted those three special words several times.”

  Ben’s face lit up. “I wanted you to say it then. Will you say it now?”

  “I love you,” she said, reaching up to cup his cheek.

  A growl rumbled in his chest, that endearing little sound he made when words were hard to come by, and she tilted her head in anticipation of a scorching hot yet incredibly tender kiss.

  Then he paused. “My family.”

  “Yes, we’re still here,” said Lady Judith cheerfully.

  “Jolly good show,” said Lord Preston.

  “My God,” said Ben, gazing heavenward. “Why are you still here? Could you not have just crept out the door like normal people?”

  Delilah giggled. “Feel free to send them on their way.”

  “Your premises, sweetheart.”

  Indeed they were. Well, for the next few weeks at least. And now she would have the new challenge, the new life she’d been seeking, if what Ben had said in the bathtub was his true desire.

  She leaned around him and smiled at the two aristocrats seated on her gaming hell chairs. Lady Judith held hands with Lord Preston, and kept dabbing her eyes with a lace handkerchief. “I mean this with all due care and respect, but—”

  “You wish us gone,” said Lord Preston, nodding. “At once.”

  “If not sooner,” said Lady Judith with a beaming smile as she rose to her feet. “I hope you’ll forgive our intrusion. We were anxious enough for Bennett when we last saw him, firmly in the role of brooding tortured hero, but then came that blasted scandal sheet. I decided it was high time to unleash poison on someone.”

  “Judith,” said Ben impatiently.

  “What? I’m thoroughly relieved that all Mother and I have to fret over is coordinating our gowns for an impending special occasion. There will be a special occasion, yes? I think—”
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  “Out,” said Bennett.

  “Now,” added Delilah.

  “We’re going,” said Preston, as he lovingly hauled his wife toward the door.

  “Welcome to the family!” called Judith over his shoulder.

  When she and Ben were alone in the gaming hell, they exchanged a wordless, laughing glance, but this space seemed too large and impersonal for the further intimate conversation they needed to have. So Delilah curled her hand around his arm and gestured to the fireplace in the entrance hall. It was a most memorable place: where they had first set eyes on each other.

  “So,” Delilah said lightly when they stood in front of the roaring blaze. “A special occasion, hmmm?”

  Ben sighed. “I should have apologized several times in advance, not just once. Judith does not wait for an opportune time, she just speaks. I can only ask your forgiveness if she made you feel uncomfortable or pressured, for that is the last thing I want.”

  “What is the first thing?”

  “Your happiness.”

  Delilah went up on her toes and kissed a trail along his prickly, unshaven jaw until she reached his mouth. Then she brushed his lips with hers, tempting him to take control. He did so in glorious fashion, one hand around her waist and the other caressing the back of her neck, kissing her until her toes curled.

  “That was the first thing I wanted,” she said breathlessly. “To be in your arms, which is my favorite place now. The second thing is your happiness. But I’m not sure how a scandal will make you happy. And if you do wish to make me your duchess it will create merry hell, even if I no longer owned the Temple.”

  Bennett frowned. “I would never ask you to choose. We can be a thoroughly modern couple; the stiff rumps can eat their hats. I won’t tolerate hypocrisy in any shape or form; least of all those who would happily attend the club yet not receive you in their drawing room.”