To Wed in Scandal (A Scandal in London Novel)

by Liana Lefey

  When there was no response, the redhead sighed audibly. “The Treaty of Utrecht?”

  Now he was intrigued. To hear a female discussing any politics, foreign or domestic, was most uncommon. To hear one speaking knowledgeably and with wit was even more of a rarity. But why was she trying to have this discussion with a gaggle of ignorant debutantes? Without bothering to excuse himself, he turned his back on his fellows and cleared his throat.

  The redhead turned, a triumphant smile quirking her lips. Her delighted expression, however, quickly changed to one of irritation.

  Clearly, the lady had been expecting someone else.

  He opened his mouth to say something, but then hesitated. There was something strangely familiar about the hazel eyes that glared up at him. An impatient brow lifted above one, and he realized he was staring. He sketched a bow. “You must pardon me, my lady, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation. Colonel Herbert, Viscount Montgomery, at your service.”

  Her gaze instantly grew wary. “Viscount Montgomery?”

  As she spoke, a thrill of recognition ran through him. No. Surely not. He peered at her closely.

  “Sabrina?” An enormous smile split his face. “By Jove, it is—the Red Pestilence!”

  Her fine alabaster skin colored. It was then that he realized the other girls were staring at them in open shock. Grabbing Sabrina’s arm, he led her away from the prying eyes and too-eager ears.

  “How dare you insult me so, you horrid man!” she exploded the instant he released her.

  It was hard to reconcile the image of this breathtaking—and very angry—woman with the mischievous child he’d known ten years ago. The delinquent imp had certainly grown up. “I’m horrid? If memory serves, you were the one putting snakes in pockets, not I. I never said a word until after you declared war.”

  “That was years ago! I am no longer a child, and for you to call me by such a name now, especially in public, is simply inexcusable.”

  Curiosity pricked him. “Exactly why were you so bent on being such a nuisance, if I may ask?”

  The question caught her off guard, as he’d intended. She stared at him for a long moment before her chin lifted in the defiant manner he remembered so well. “I did it for Eugenia, if you must know.”

  “She put you up to all of those pranks?”

  She looked uncomfortable. “Well, no. Not all of them.” He stared at her until she blushed. “None of them, actually,” she finally admitted.

  “You needn’t have bothered, you know. I had no intention of marrying her.”

  “You didn’t?”

  He shook his head. “I was dragged to your house by my mother on a weekly basis because she had hoped that your sister and I would take a fancy to each other. Aylesford wanted the match very badly as well, but the truth is that Eugenia and I were not suited for anything beyond friendship.”

  “But I thought—what I mean to say is that you appeared quite serious in your courtship,” she said, looking at him with frank suspicion.

  “Just because I didn’t shout objections upon crossing the threshold didn’t mean I was a party to their plans. I chose silence as my form of protest while at your house. Eugenia understood and reciprocated in kind.”

  “Oh.”

  She looked so crestfallen that he couldn’t resist. “Unfortunately, I never did get to compliment you on your skill at devilry. An egregious oversight on my part, for you were a most gifted saboteur. Had I truly sought your sister’s hand, the idea of having the Pest as a member of my family would have given me serious pause.”

  The look on her face said she wasn’t sure whether to take this as a compliment or an insult. “I remember how furious Aylesford was with you for interfering, the few times you were caught,” he continued. “I do hope your punishments were not overly harsh.”

  A queer expression crossed her features, and another memory assaulted him. His father had written him last year and in his letter had mentioned that Aylesford, who’d been gravely ill, had finally succumbed. The girl must have only just come out of mourning.

  “Please, forgive me,” he apologized at once. “I only arrived back home a few days ago, you see, and I’m afraid I simply forgot that…” He bowed his head, biting back a curse. “Truly, I beg your pardon. I did not mean to be an insensitive lout.”

  He watched her struggle for composure for a moment before she answered with a shaky but brave smile. “It has been over a year, my lord. The time for mourning has passed.”

  “It has been five years, and still I mourn my mother’s absence,” he replied.

  She squirmed and looked away.

  Damn me for an idiot! he thought, trying to think of a way to mend his disastrous misstep. As if echoing the awkwardness between them, the twang of stringed instruments being tuned drifted throughout the ballroom. Seizing the opportunity, Henry offered his arm. “May I request the honor?”

  He might have offered to toss her off a cliff for the look she gave him. With visible reluctance, she accepted.

  IN SPITE OF her rancor at his having humiliated her in front of her peers, the moment their naked fingers touched, rivulets of fire began to snake down Sabrina’s spine, traveling all the way to her suddenly curling toes. Time slowed to a crawl as if, like her, it needed to pause for breath.

  In that instant, everything came into sharp focus and she saw the man in front of her. Ten years had wrought great changes in him. Gone was the awkward, lanky youth, replaced by a man who projected strength, solidity, and confidence. His blue-violet eyes darkened to midnight as he stared back at her, eliciting a strange tugging sensation deep in her belly.

  Hoping her face didn’t look as flushed as she suspected it did, she jerked her gaze away. What is the matter with me? Just because he’s—she grudgingly acknowledged the truth—pretty doesn’t mean he’s not still a great oaf. Stay focused! She wrested her attention away to see if Fairford was watching as they made their way to the dance floor. She couldn’t see him amid the crush. If he was watching, would he care that she was dancing with Montgomery?

  Her spirits rose. This little hiccup could work to her advantage, if she played it right. Let Fairford see her beauty and grace displayed on another man’s arm. Let him see his fellow sex falling at her feet, and he’d soon be next in line.

  Montgomery smiled down at her as they began moving with the music, a minuet. Breath barely made it into her chest for the clamor in her heart at the sight.

  In a blink, Fairford was utterly forgotten. Everything was forgotten as they glided through the complex weave of turns and dips, touching and separating, touching again. And every time they made contact, the unsettling river of tingles intensified, pooling in the secret place between her legs.

  The music wrapped around her like a living thing, seeming to carry her forward without any conscious effort on her part. When it finally stopped, she felt bereft, as if her body had somehow forgotten how to move without it.

  Bowing over her hand, Montgomery brushed its back with his lips. “An honor and a pleasure, my lady.”

  Realizing she was standing there like a half-wit, she snatched her scorched fingers away. “Likewise, my lord.”

  “May I offer you something to drink?”

  Damn! She’d hoped to excuse herself before he could say anything else, but…her mouth was parched. Her gaze drifted to the french doors leading out to the terrace. They were closed against the frigid flakes swirling beyond. It looked utterly miserable, and yet suddenly she longed to be out there in it, if only to escape the heat and turmoil boiling away inside her.

  “Thank you. It is a bit warm in here,” she finally said.

  She watched as he snatched a glass from a passing tray and dashed its contents into a potted orange tree. He then went to the door she’d gazed at so longingly only moments before and opened it, letting in a blast of icy air and the snapping scent of clean snow.

  Slipping and sliding his way to the balustrade, Montgomery scooped up a glassful of w
hite from its top and came back. He held the goblet out to another passing servant, bidding him fill it from the bottle he bore.

  She accepted the chilled wine and took a refreshing sip. It was delicious. “I doubt any gentleman here has ever gone to such lengths to fetch a drink for a lady,” she said, smiling in spite of herself. “Thank you.”

  “You are most welcome.”

  She felt herself heating again from the inside out as his gaze lingered on her lips. She licked them reflexively and saw his eyes darken again. Her hand shook as she lowered the now empty glass. The way he looked at her was most disconcerting. She felt absolutely naked. Worse, she couldn’t help wondering what he might look like without his clothes.

  A bubble of hysterical laughter lodged in her throat. She ought to be thinking about cool, detached Lord Fairford. Golden, angelic Fairford. Not mentally undressing this black-haired devil! Lord Montgomery looked anything but angelic—unless one considered the fallen sort.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Montgomery’s mouth slanted. Her stomach again tightened. It was an almost uncomfortable response.

  Almost. The same traitorous little voice inside her whispered that perhaps Montgomery might make a better husband than Fairford. The more she looked at him, the more pleasing the idea became. Thick, dark curls instead of fine, fair hair. Eyes of midnight rather than ice—dark eyes full of promises.

  She watched, mesmerized, as something flared to life in those eyes, something infinitely, temptingly dangerous. The ache in her belly suddenly blossomed, sending another rush of heat to the place below. Panicking, she looked away and snapped open her fan, struggling to exude cool dignity as opposed to trembling idiocy.

  How could she possibly think of her old bête noire with…desire?

  She shifted to put a bit more distance between them. It was the height of irony that the boy who’d called her a pest now seemed to have the ability to set her ablaze.

  “I must confess, I was rather surprised to hear a woman speak of politics so knowledgeably,” he said, moving a little closer.

  “I make it a point to keep well informed,” she replied, annoyed by his patronizing tone—and by how close he was. “Papa always read the papers. Now, I read them. Every morning. Mama thinks it a waste of time for me to fill my head with such things, but I enjoy learning about the larger world.”

  “The pursuit of knowledge is never a waste of time,” he agreed. “Ignorance by choice is a grave sin, but action taken in deliberate ignorance is an even greater offense.”

  A grudging smile formed on her lips. “That sounds like something Papa might have said.” Sadness threatened to again overwhelm her. In spite of his many faults, he had been a wonderful father.

  “Sabrina!”

  As one, they turned to see a matronly figure parting the throng.

  “Mama!” exclaimed Sabrina. “How very glad I am to see you. Lady Elsworth wanted me to relay Lady Bidewell’s request for your assistance with—”

  “Yes, yes. I already know all about it. Lady Boswell informed me,” Lady Aylesford interrupted, gazing up at Montgomery with a most calculating look in her eye. “But tell me, who is your companion?”

  Montgomery bowed, still smiling. “My lady, I must say it is a great pleasure to see you again.”

  “Henry?” Her hand fluttered to her breast. “Upon my word, how you have grown! Where is the rapscallion who used to pilfer my scones?”

  “Still very much here, dear lady. And beware, for I still adore sweets.”

  Sabrina felt herself grow warm. He’d been looking right at her when he said it.

  “Well, you cannot tell by looking at you,” said her mother. “I can see I shall have to take you in hand. You are thin as a reed!”

  Incredulous, Sabrina just stared at her mother. He was the epitome of health.

  “My boy, you really must come and—”

  Sabrina cleared her throat and shook her head a little.

  Mama continued as though she had not noticed. “You must come to tea this Thursday. I simply will not accept a refusal!”

  “My lady, I am most pleased to accept your kind invitation.”

  “Excellent!” replied Mama at once. “Sabrina, remind me tomorrow to invite Eugenia to tea Thursday. I’m sure she would love to see Henry again. Now, I beg you to excuse me. I hate to leave again so quickly, but I’ve sworn to assist Lady Bidewell with something and the need is urgent.”

  “But M—”

  “You have far less need of my shepherding skills, my dear,” her mother insisted, cutting off her protest. She flashed an arch smile at him. “I’m sure Henry will be happy to escort you the remainder of this evening, won’t you dear?”

  “I shall care for her as if she were my very own, my lady.”

  “Oh, pish tosh!” hooted her mother. “Do call me Auntie as you used to—there’s no need for formality between us, dear boy. I knew you when you were in nappies.”

  She would be pinching his cheeks next!

  “Of course, Auntie,” he said, with far too much enthusiasm.

  “Good boy. Now, I’m off to try and make a bride of the Bidewell girl.” Her mother gathered herself as though in preparation for impending battle. “Wish me luck, for I shall have need of it.”

  Dread filled Sabrina. She knew exactly what her mother was up to, and it was absolutely infuriating.

  Relax. She took a few deep, restorative breaths. If Fairford got the impression Montgomery was courting her…

  “How is Eugenia?” asked Montgomery, pulling her back into the moment.

  “Eugenia? Quite well. She recently presented her husband with their fourth child, a boy. The first three were girls.”

  “I have been away a long time,” he muttered. “I suppose she is overjoyed?”

  “She is arranging his marriage already, and he is but three months old,” she replied, caught off guard. It struck her as odd that a man would be even remotely interested in such things.

  “I’m pleased to hear she has finally taken to domesticity. I remember she was such a hoyden—rather like her youngest sister.”

  The glow in his eyes caused her stomach to flip again. Blinking, Sabrina shook herself. “I’m not nearly as adventurous as Eugenia,” she said, aiming for “dull and proper” as she covertly scanned the crush. Fairford’s flaxen head was nowhere in sight.

  “I rather think you underestimate your own courage, Pest,” said Montgomery, dropping his voice to an intimate murmur.

  Despite his use of the hated nickname, a cascade of warm shivers ran across her skin. Desperate to escape the source of the unsettling sensation, she looked about for a means—any means—of escape.

  About twenty feet away a tall, awkward-looking young man leaned against a wall. He was trying to appear bored, but the effect was ruined by the wistful looks he kept casting toward the dance floor. They’d been introduced earlier, but she couldn’t quite…

  Chadwick. Yes! He would do. She stared at him intently. This way, you blind lump, she thought.

  It was an eternity before he finally took note, but when he did, her victim blushed all the way to his ginger roots. He glanced over his shoulder at the wall behind him, seeming startled to find it there.

  Beneath her skirts, she tapped her foot. He turned back, surprise all over his face, and she had to refrain from rolling her eyes. Yes, you! I’m not admiring the wainscoting!

  The lad gave her a shy, unsure smile, and she cast her gaze downward as if embarrassed by her own boldness. After a brief moment, however, she lifted her lashes to stare at him once more and watched in triumph as the red-faced young man obediently came to heel.

  It was hard not to feel just a bit smug. Her sisters had taught her well.

  “My lady, I’m so pleased to see you again,” stammered Chadwick as he bowed before her clumsily. “May I beg the honor of your next dance?”

  “Of course,” she murmured, avoiding Montgomery’s gaze. “Please excuse me, my lord.”

  Chadwick�
��s smile nearly split his face in half as she placed her hand on his arm and allowed him to lead her away.

  Five minutes. Five minutes and she could lose herself in the crush.

  Sabrina stared, unseeing, at a point somewhere between her partner’s eyebrows while they danced. Her mind was full of Montgomery, her body still alive with the memory of his touch. She had to stay as far away from that man as possible.

  “My lady, might I dare hope for another dance with you later this evening?”

  “Hmm?”

  “I—I asked if I might hope for another dance with you,” blurted Chadwick.

  His urgent manner at last penetrated the fog in her mind. She came out of her reverie to see that Chadwick’s boyish face was filled with fervent adoration.

  Her heart sank. Oh no.

  “I’m afraid that would be most improper, my lord,” she said carefully. “My reputation would surely suffer irreparable damage were I to show you such favor.”

  It was just the right answer. She stifled a giggle as Chadwick’s narrow chest puffed out. Really, she oughtn’t laugh, but he looked perfectly ridiculous. Like a skinny rooster. She half expected him to start strutting and crowing.

  She whipped open her fan and hid behind it until she could regain control over her twitching lips.

  “I would never wish to cause you any distress, of course,” he vowed, apparently mistaking her action for shyness. “I respectfully withdraw my selfish request.”

  A sigh of relief lodged in her chest.

  “Yet, I must tell you that you have utterly captivated me, my lady,” he continued with alarming vehemence. “Your beauty and grace know no rival. You outshine your peers as the sun outshines the very stars.”

  She choked down a wave of pure panic. Now the fat was well and truly in the fire. Just as she was contemplating the effectiveness of a good swoon as a means of escape, an idea struck her. Thursday…Montgomery was coming to tea on Thursday.

  She looked at Chadwick. Perhaps not the most dashing rescuer, but what did that matter as long as he stood between her and Montgomery? It was too good an opportunity to pass up.