A Kiss With Scandal (Scandals & Secrets 4)

by Janelle Daniels

Her brows furrowed as she stomped on moss-covered tiles. A notch formed on her forehead that he had an overwhelming urge to kiss away.

  “Are you sure it will be safe there? For me and my family?”

  Her worry for her family’s safety warmed his heart. “It’s more secure than here. Any outsiders will stick out, and I’ll have guards there to watch you all at every moment. This will work.”

  She bit her lip. “And then what? What will happen when it’s over? There could be a scandal.”

  He shook his head firmly. “There will be no scandal. We will track down who they are while you’re at my estate. Once it’s over, we’ll return to London, and quietly leak that we didn’t suit. We will appear friendly, amicable, and the talk will die down within a week.”

  His gut twinged at how cut and dried their relationship sounded, but he pushed the feeling away. He had a job to do.

  “My mother will just love this.”

  He snorted. Just about any mama with an unmarried daughter would kick her heels at an opportunity like this. “And that is exactly why this will work. She’ll want this so much she won’t care about etiquette. She won’t care about the hassle of packing for a fortnight in the country with little warning. Nothing else will matter except that a viscount has shown a strong interest in you and that you’re interested as well.”

  A small smile curved her lips. “Oh? I’m to be interested?”

  “Practically falling in my arms.”

  She stepped toward him. A hint of trust lit her eyes, warming his heart. “Well, I guess we should get started.”

  He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm, his muscles flexing under her touch. Her delicate, tapered fingers made him feel strong, sturdy.

  Protective.

  As they moved through the darkened hallways toward the center of the party, the scent of freshly churned earth faded as melted wax took over. He dusted her shoulders, ridding her gown of lingering dirt, and whispered, “Go ahead, now. I’ll follow you.”

  She hesitated. “You’ll be right behind me?”

  His gut clenched. “The whole time.”

  She nodded once before slipping ahead. He watched her slim form glide down the hall. Each step she took, she girded armor only he was able to see. Her chin rose a notch, her posture straightened. The ton wasn’t forgiving, and Charlotte was ready for battle.

  Charlotte. Her name echoed through his mind as he stepped to follow her. It fit her. Delicate, feminine. It had the same ethereal quality she possessed from the blond curls on her head to her trim waist and long legs. She had grace women envied and men lusted after. It was in every man’s eyes as they looked at her, taking in the swells of her curves.

  Scorching possessiveness gripped him.

  His jaw clenched as his step faltered. Where had that come from?

  He was always so cool, calm, and collected when it came to his assignments. And that’s what Charlotte was. An assignment.

  When had he started thinking of her as Charlotte and not Lady Charlotte? When had she gotten under his skin, or more importantly, how?

  How had he gone from detached and wanting out of this life to needing to protect her? She’d become important and far too quickly.

  She mattered. He didn’t bother to deny it. Yet the why of it was a mystery. This was his final assignment. It made sense that he’d want to end his career on a positive note. That he’d want to protect someone so beautiful and innocent as a token of all the good he’d done in his career. It would be the crowning moment.

  His muscles loosened. There was no reason to get riled up over lustful glances. She wasn’t his. At least not for long.

  But for now, he had a part to play.

  And this was one part of his job he would relish. Because in his years of service, he’d stayed in the shadows. He’d had to be above reproach and to somehow remain in the light without garnering suspicion. But for tonight, he would give them all something to talk about. Because tonight, he wasn’t just Viscount Lawrence, available, wealthy bachelor and spy.

  He was a man in pursuit.

  Chapter 7

  Derek’s eyes scorched her. A hot blush kissed Charlotte’s cheeks, and she fanned them quickly as her eyes darted around the crowd. How had her life turned upside down in such a short amount of time?

  She milled through the other guests, measuring her pace and forcing a serene smile to her lips.

  The first strings of a waltz began, and before she could look over her shoulder for Derek, he had her hand cradled in his as he led her to the floor.

  “Ready?” he whispered, his warm lips brushing against her ear.

  Gooseflesh rushed over her skin, but she suppressed the shiver his nearness caused. “Ready as I will ever be.”

  He twirled her into the crowd with determination and strength. How he did most things, she imagined.

  Lord Acton pouted from across the room, and she snorted.

  “What is it?”

  “Lord Acton,” she said, smiling into Derek’s eyes. “He’s most displeased.”

  “Why?”

  “This dance was his.”

  She gasped as he pulled her closer, flush against his body. “But now it’s mine.”

  Mine. Her pulse quickened, enjoying his possessiveness more than she should.

  Oh, no. Get yourself under control!

  But as she glanced up at him, thinking of the times when she’d watched him, dreamed of him, it was hard to compartmentalize the pleasure she found in his arms, but she had to. She may have fantasized about him when she was a green girl during her first season, but once she’d seen that he had no interest in her, she’d locked those feelings away.

  Why now did they burst through her barriers like a thief springing for his last escape?

  Gasps echoed around the ballroom as Derek led her from the waltz into the next dance. It was bold, even for an engaged couple, to make such a spectacle. Her shoulders shrunk. “Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” she whispered behind her fan.

  “It was the only way. Besides, it’s done.”

  He smiled at her as though she were the only woman in the room, the only woman who mattered.

  The only woman he desired.

  Sugar lumps. She couldn’t argue with that. Besides, she’d never been one to question her actions. Her sense of adventure had thrust her into trouble more times than she could count, but she’d never regretted anything. “You’re right.”

  He angled her back, his eyes curious.

  “What?”

  “And just like that, you’re okay?”

  She shrugged in his hold. “Yes.”

  He muffled a laugh. “You’re not what I expected.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m not what most people expect. I tend to say improper things when I shouldn’t, I have dreams and ambitions besides marrying well, and I can’t abide most genteel pursuits.”

  “What would you pursue instead of pianoforte?” His eyes teased her.

  “Adventure.”

  His smile fell. “Seeking adventure isn’t all one thinks it will be. There’s risk, loss.”

  Charlotte ached for him, but made sure all pity was out of her voice when she asked, “What have you lost?”

  He gazed unseeing into the crowd. She didn’t think he would answer for a moment before he finally said, “A friend. Someone who joined around the same time as me. After a few years, we’d become best friends.”

  “What happened?”

  His jaw clenched. “He was killed in a raid a few years ago.”

  “A raid on what?” she asked, knowing she didn’t really want the answer.

  “The Black Dahlia.”

  Her heart iced as fear flooded her system. She wanted to probe him for more information, but didn’t.

  “Do you see your mother?”

  Her eyes sifted through the crowd. Her mother manically fanned her red cheeks on the side of the room as she watched Charlotte dance with the viscount. Charlotte winced. “Yes.”


  “When the music ends, we’ll go straight to her, fending off all other conversation.”

  “All right.”

  After the last note, she curtsied so deep her knee skimmed the floor.

  Derek tucked her hand in his arm, squeezing with reassurance. “Smile,” he whispered close.

  His hot breath tickled her ear and down her neck, but she plastered a serene smile to her face. She had to make this believable.

  Escorting her to her family, he bowed low over her hand. “It’s been a pleasure, Lady Charlotte,” he said loud enough for others to hear.

  “It has. Thank you, Viscount Lawrence.”

  He brushed a kiss over her gloved hand, and goose bumps shot up her arm. Sugar lumps!

  Derek grinned at her mother in a way that should have been illegal, or at least immoral. No one could resist that smile.

  “Lady Langston, might I have a moment of your time?”

  Her mother preened, fanning her flushed skin with quick flaps. Charlotte stifled a groan.

  “Indeed. Is there something I can do for you, my lord?”

  He glanced at Charlotte wistfully, and her stomach flipped. Time away with him at his estate would prove a greater challenge than she’d originally anticipated. If his acting abilities in the last ten minutes were any indication, she’d have to guard her heart closely. She could easily forget it was all a ruse and mistake his acting for reality.

  “Yes.” He nodded to her mother. “This is a bit unorthodox. Pray, forgive me. Today, I’ve decided to return to my estate for a country party. I plan to leave tomorrow, and my other guests have agreed to the impromptu journey as well. I hoped your family could join us.”

  Her mother glanced between Derek and Charlotte. “I see.” A smile curved her lips. “We are delighted, of course. How exciting. I’ve been longing for a respite from town, and this is just what I think we all need.”

  “Excellent. I will have directions delivered to your residence tonight.” Derek bowed low over her mother’s hand before stealing another glance at Charlotte.

  Purely for her mother’s benefit, naturally.

  His eyes twinkled in a private joke. It had been as easy as he’d predicted.

  “Until tomorrow, Lady Charlotte,” he said before moving into the crowd.

  It was as if the room had held a collective breath, straining to hear their interaction, and once their conversation ended, the room once again buzzed with energy.

  Her mother hooked Charlotte’s arm with her own. “It was kind of him to invite us to his gathering.”

  Charlotte choked. “Yes. Yes, it was. It’ll be nice to leave the city.”

  “Mmm.” Her mother’s eyes teased.

  “I’m parched after all that dancing. I think I’ll get a glass of lemonade. Would you like me to fetch you some?” Charlotte was grateful when her mother turned her down.

  “Will you be all right on your own?”

  “Perfectly. I’ll stay within view.”

  Her mother nodded, already distracted with a conversation taking place next to her. No doubt their impromptu trip would be the on-dit for the night.

  Once at the refreshment table, she turned away from the crowd as if unaware they all gossiped about her and selected a flute of lemonade. She sipped the too sweet drink and wrinkled her nose. Truth be told, she couldn’t stand the beverage. She preferred champagne, but until she was married or allowed to toast a special announcement, society demanded she drink the tart beverage.

  Heavens, would she ever move past this phase in life? She looked forward to the time she’d be labeled on the shelf. At least then she’d have a bit more freedom.

  “My dear,” Lady Howard trilled, cutting through the crowd to get to her. Lady Pembroke, fast on her rival’s heels, towed an unwilling Lady Norland behind her, not about to let Lady Howard capture the first morsel of gossip. “We had no idea things between you and the viscount had become so serious!”

  “Yes, you sly thing.” Lady Pembroke huffed. “You declare Viscount Lawrence the catch of the season while you had him on the hook.”

  And so it begins. True to the plan, Charlotte sipped her drink and countered the bloodhounds surrounding her. Except for Lady Norland, of course. Charlotte could only feel sorry for the young widow. Lady Pembroke grasped the sweet woman in her claws, and for that alone, Charlotte wanted to be extra kind. “I did nothing of the sort. Viscount Lawrence is a good friend of mine.”

  “It looked like much more than that to me.” Lady Howard’s eyes gleamed. “I would wager he is declaring himself.”

  Lady Pembroke fumed. “That’s exactly what I was saying to Lady Norland.” She turned to the lady in question. “Isn’t that so?”

  Lady Norland’s slim shoulders rounded. “Yes. Exactly so. Just a moment ago.”

  Lady Howard’s eyes narrowed, never one to stay out of the light. “I think it was obvious to everyone in the room, Lady Pembroke.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Lady Charlotte,” Lady Norland interrupted. “Do you think anything more will happen with the viscount?”

  Normally Charlotte would never answer such an impertinent question, but since Lady Norland had asked and was obviously trying to keep the peace between the other two ladies, Charlotte smiled. “I’m afraid I cannot say. We’ll all just have to see what the future holds.”

  Lady Norland’s lips curved at the diplomatic answer. “Yes, we—”

  A shout echoed through the room. Then another.

  “Heavens, what could that be?” Lady Howard’s eyes lit up as her eyes darted between the commotion across the room and Charlotte, torn between two juicy bones of gossip.

  “Fire!” someone shouted.

  The room froze a split second before chaos erupted.

  “Fire! Fire! Everyone out!” a man yelled, but there was no need. The moment the word fire was spoken, panic ensued as bodies stampeded for the exits.

  Screams abounded as Charlotte tried to make her way to her family. But she was too far away, and the crowd surged in the opposite direction.

  Smoke tickled her nose as she skirted the edge of the room. She could see her parents frantically searching the floor for her as they moved toward a door, but they didn’t see her.

  “Mother!” Her call didn’t move past the screams in the room. She would have to find them outside in the madness.

  She pressed against the wall, desperate to escape the crowd and reach the door quicker.

  Hands shot out from an alcove, gripping her as they yanked her into darkness. Relief swelled within her. She should have known Derek would come for her. “We should head outside.”

  His hands snaked around her waist, gripping her hard. Charlotte glanced at the livery sleeve in confusion a second before she kicked in panic. The assailant yanked her hard against him, knocking the breath from her.

  A knife pricked under her chin. “If you scream, I’ll kill you.”

  * * *

  Derek smelled smoke before the alarm sounded. It wasn’t strong. About the same as one smells when an ember singes a rug, but it was the beginning of something unstoppable.

  His eyes darted across the room to Charlotte, knowing there’d be no way to get to her before panic set in.

  “Fire!” the cry rose.

  The crowd moved as one. Once caught in the flood to the door, no one was released. And Derek happened to be standing by an exit.

  Damn.

  A woman shrieked, discombobulating him, but he maneuvered toward the edge of the mass.

  He kept his attention riveted to Charlotte as she crept alongside an opposite wall, searching for her family, no doubt. There’d be no way to get to them in time.

  Stay there, he willed her from the distance. If he could see her, he had a chance of protecting her. But if she left the building without him…

  He pushed past people with renewed vigor. He would reach her before something went wrong.

  A woman fell to the ground, crying out as people stomped over her. He hes
itated only a second, taking in Charlotte’s position before blocking the woman’s body and lifting her up and out of danger.

  She didn’t thank him as she scrambled toward the door.

  A scream penetrated the group, and Derek knew it was Charlotte. Pivoting toward where he’d last seen her, his eyes darted around. He couldn’t find her.

  “Charlotte!” he yelled. “Charlotte!” He charged forward, not caring whom he pushed aside. She couldn’t have exited the room in the few seconds he’d looked away.

  His fingers scraped along the textured wall beneath silk draperies, looking for any sign of where she’d gone. The wall gave way behind one of the coverings, and he yanked the fabric aside, revealing a service hallway.

  Empty. And no sign of Charlotte.

  He plunged into the dimly lit walkway. His gut told him she was here, and it was never wrong. He took the service stairs two at a time.

  A muffled scream sounded a second before a knife flew past his face and burrowed into the doorjamb.

  Charlotte’s attacker threw her to the floor and launched himself at Derek. But Derek was ready. He was always ready.

  Panic widened the man’s eyes.

  Good. Panicked men made sloppy fighters.

  Feign left. Duck. Lunge back. Combat was a matter of patience. Of precision. Of timing.

  Derek’s opponent lowered his hands for a split second. Derek attacked with cold ruthlessness, jabbing where it would do the most damage with the least exertion.

  The man howled as blood gushed down his face. Gut punch. Left. Right. Undercut.

  The attacker’s eyes rolled back into his head as he hit the floor.

  Derek stepped over the body and hauled Charlotte up against him. He cradled her, checking for injuries. “Are you all right?”

  Her chin shook. “I’m fine. He didn’t hurt me.”

  He could have. He would have.

  Derek wanted to set her aside and finish what he started. The man deserved to die.

  Derek’s chest heaved. It would take one second to kill him. He’d be so quick, Charlotte wouldn’t even know it’d happened.

  Charlotte shivered in his arms, and he pulled her closer, blocking violent thoughts. The man would have to wait. Charlotte took priority, and he needed to remove her from the premises. “Follow me.” He studied her glazed eyes. “Can you do that?”