To Wed in Scandal (A Scandal in London Novel)

by Liana Lefey

  “I’m afraid that I may not dance with you again this evening, my lord, but”—she watched his Adam’s apple jump as he swallowed, waiting—“I am receiving callers at tea this Thursday. If you would like—”

  “It would bring me no end of delight, my lady!”

  Ignoring his enthusiastic interruption, she smiled. He was obviously overcome, poor fellow. It was sweet, in an annoying sort of way. “I would be pleased to receive you as my guest, my lord. And now, I’m afraid I’ve lingered far too long. People are beginning to stare.”

  Chadwick’s face lit with joy. “I completely understand the need for propriety, my lady. Shall I escort you to a chair?”

  “I should like nothing better—but I’m afraid I must find my mother,” she amended hastily. Fairford had just reappeared and was now speaking with the Duke of Bedford. She had to find a way to get his attention. “She is with Lady Bidewell.”

  At the mention of that name, Chadwick’s face fell.

  Too late, Sabrina remembered a conversation she’d overheard between her mother and Lady Bidewell regarding a possible union between her daughter…and this man. Oh, sweet Lord. Mama had left her with Montgomery to assist with the campaign.

  She watched as his mouth hardened with determination. “I’ll gladly take you to her,” he said, slipping his arm beneath her hand without waiting for her reply. “I should very much like the opportunity to meet Lady Aylesford.”

  Hoist by her own petard, she had no choice but to go with him. Looking back, she fastened desperate eyes on the dwindling form of Lord Fairford.

  Unfortunately, Lord Montgomery happened to be looking in her direction at that very moment. Their eyes met, and his lips quirked as he acknowledged her with a slight nod.

  Sabrina’s face flamed as she whipped back around.

  Damn.

  She felt utterly drained by the time she climbed into her carriage. Each of her sisters had been in raptures for days after her first ball—not so, for her. Never in all her days had she been so happy to leave a social event. Fairford had ignored all attempts to gain his attention, while Chadwick had managed to make a damned nuisance of himself, popping up at every turn and informing half the bloody ballroom of her having invited him to tea.

  To make matters worse, Mama now sat across from her, seething with displeasure.

  “What in heaven’s name were you thinking, Sabrina? His father was a merchant,” she groused, saying the word as though it tasted bad. “He’s barely a genuine viscount, if you ask me.”

  Sabrina was sure she hadn’t asked.

  “His mother’s family would never have agreed to such a union had they not been desperately in debt. I have it on good authority his mother deliberately compromised herself to guarantee the match, and that upon signing the register, the groom paid her family a ridiculous sum to have the estate freed. Chadwick’s title was purchased outright.”

  “I don’t plan to marry him, Mama.”

  “I should think not! I’d expect you to have better sense, certainly. But why waste your time on such as him at all? I thought you had your eye on Fairford? And let us not forget Henry.”

  Oh, let us do! thought Sabrina uncharitably. The very mention of him made her ears grow uncomfortably warm.

  “He was quite taken with you.” Her mother leaned forward, a gleam in her eye. “And I strongly suspect the sentiment to be mutual.”

  The temperature rose another degree. “I’m sure he is a very nice gentleman, Mama, but I think it a bit early to be making any wedding plans just yet.” She’d managed to evade Montgomery, but there’d been a heavy price associated with her escape. If only Fairford had come to her rescue instead of Chadwick.

  She sighed. It wasn’t the lad’s fault. Poor fellow only thought she was interested in him because, like an idiot, she’d deliberately led him to believe so. There had to be a gentle way of dissuading him. Perhaps her sisters could advise her? Georgiana and Augusta had both been highly sought after in their first Seasons…

  “Young lady, I am talking to you.”

  She flinched. “Mama, I know I shouldn’t have invited him, but I felt so sorry for him!”

  “Charitable inclinations are never a good reason to encourage a man, Sabrina. It gives them ideas, encourages them to take liberties in the hope of possible gain. You are an earl’s daughter. He is a merchant’s son.”

  “I underst—”

  “And worse, now Lady Bidewell is wroth with me! She had been working toward a match between her daughter and Chadwick for nearly a year when you blundered across his path. You’ve made a fine mess of things. The Season has only just begun, and already you’ve made an enemy.”

  Sabrina scowled. She already knew Chadwick might not easily be dissuaded, not with the likes of Miss Myopic Bidewell waiting in the wings to snap him up. And then there was Montgomery to deal with as well.

  She looked forward to Thursday with all the anticipation of a walk to the headsman’s block.

  Henry held the cards in his hand and laid out a knave, not really caring about the game. It held no interest for him tonight. His mind was preoccupied with red hair and hazel eyes. Eventually, he tossed in his lot. “I’m done for the night, Percy. Just not in the mood for it, I guess.”

  “Feeling restless, are we?” the other man asked. “You ought to take a mistress. Just the cure for that sort of ailment.”

  “I’ve no interest in dalliances, old boy.”

  “Oh, I know a few ladies that could change your mind, believe me,” teased his friend.

  “I tried keeping a mistress once, but the experience left me unenthusiastic.”

  “Obviously, you didn’t have the right one,” said Percy. “Rotten bit of luck, that’s all. You can’t let one bad apple spoil the whole barrel.”

  A rueful smile lifted the corner of Henry’s mouth. “I can only imagine Adorée’s reaction to hearing a man compare her to fruit—rotten fruit, at that.”

  Percy sat up. “Adorée? The Adorée? When was this?”

  “Before I went to India.” He hadn’t told a soul. She’d made him promise to keep their relationship a secret. Both beautiful and sensual, she’d been every man’s desire—and she’d chosen him. She’d even gone so far as to call it “love,” but the truth had quickly become apparent as her skilled hands had dug deeper and deeper into his purse. He’d given her as much as he could, which was no pittance, but it had not been enough to buy her loyalty. The moment a wealthier man had shown interest, she’d cooled toward him.

  “Bloody hell, man,” said Percy, frowning. “You could have told me, at least. I would have kept your secret and congratulated you on the coup. I’ve been trying to coax that woman into my bed for years, but I can’t afford her.” He leaned forward, his face eager. “Tell me, was she as good as they say?”

  “Her expertise would have left even you breathless.” Already he was regretting having divulged his secret.

  “And yet you decided to forsake her perfumed perfection in favor of—how did you put it? Ah, yes—pungent India.”

  “I did not have much choice in the matter. Father insisted I take the post after I refused to accept the bride he’d selected for me.” It was mostly true. Adorée’s defection had wounded his pride in such a way as to make it the most palatable option. Despite the fact that he’d known her for a courtesan from the beginning, he hadn’t been able to bear seeing her with another man.

  “Well, if the carnal tempts you not, then tell me what will,” continued Percy. “Name your vice, and I shall gladly support you in its indulgence.”

  Henry smiled and shook his head. “I am already in danger of hell’s flames on several counts. And I think you’ve blackened your own soul quite enough without offering to aid others in their journey to moral turpitude.”

  “How we ever ended up being friends is a mystery,” groused Percy. He let out a long sigh. “Very well. Off with you, then. Go home to your lonely bed.”

  “I’m not lonely.”

 
; It was a bold lie, and one that fooled neither of them.

  Percy peered at him, all traces of humor gone from his eyes. “Normally I should shudder to say such a thing, but you might consider marrying before you wither away entirely.”

  “I’m not lonely, and I’m certainly not withering away,” Henry said with a laugh.

  “Then what is it that has you moping about of late? Is the lovely Adorée still to blame? Or is it something else that has effected your transformation?”

  “What do you mean? I’m the same as I’ve always been—and I’m not moping.”

  “You’ve changed, Henry. You’re becoming your father.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Henry said, dismissing his friend’s claim with a snort. But he knew he’d changed. He was vastly different from the brash young man he remembered being years ago. Time and experience had altered him irreversibly.

  He felt older than the man before him, though they were the same age. I might have been more like him, had I stayed here…But he’d run away, plain and simple, not wanting to face responsibility.

  And now it had found him and dragged him back to England. There was no escaping it. Father’s health could no longer take the strain of managing the estates, and as the eldest it was his duty to take over their care. He sighed, feeling the weight settle across his shoulders.

  Sabrina. Again, the memory of her intruded upon his thoughts. On the washed-out canvas of his life here in London, she was an unexpected splash of bright color. “The Red Pestilence,” he chuckled.

  “I beg your pardon?” said Percy.

  Henry coughed. “My apologies, I was woolgathering. I think I shall call it a night.”

  “Suit yourself, I suppose,” said Percy, looking disappointed. “You’ve not been yourself of late, you know. Admit it.”

  “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” Henry signaled the footman to send for his carriage. “I shall see you at the Pendletons.”

  “Nighty-night, then,” said Percy, tossing his cards to the table with a shrug.

  Henry stepped out into the night air and breathed deeply. Immediately, he wished he hadn’t. London hadn’t had a good rain in days and it smelled like it.

  As he climbed into his carriage, a woman walked past wearing a towering red wig. Once again, memory flooded back from happier times. Times when a fiery-haired little girl had caused him great amounts of grief—and had secretly made him laugh.

  But Sabrina Grayson was a child no more.

  “HENRY! DO COME in.”

  For a moment, Sabrina’s mouth hung open. Mama didn’t jump up to greet anyone. Ever. Yet she’d done just that upon seeing Montgomery standing with the butler at the parlor door. Her gaze slid over to her sister, curious to see her reaction, but Eugenia was too busy to pay her any mind.

  “Hello, Auntie, Eugenia…or Lady Afton, rather,” said Montgomery, kissing the cheek presented to him by the elder and bowing over Eugenia’s hand. “Congratulations on the arrival of your son,” he murmured.

  “Thank you, my lord,” replied Eugenia.

  Shifting his attention to Sabrina, he bowed formally. “A pleasure to see you again, my lady.”

  Snapping her mouth shut with an audible pop, Sabrina extended her hand and fixed her eyes on the wall beyond his left shoulder. Though she did her level best, it was difficult to ignore the way his touch caused her throat to become suddenly dry. Swallowing reflexively, she withdrew her fingers as quickly as manners allowed.

  His violet eyes gleamed with mirth as he let her go.

  “I’m so happy you could join us,” said her mother. “Come, sit and have tea. I had cook make some of your old favorites just for the occasion.”

  In a rush, Sabrina sat next to Eugenia, purposely leaving no room on the sofa.

  Montgomery shot her a knowing smile. “It has been so long since I was last here,” he said, looking right at her as he took the cup offered by her mother. “I’m happy to find that not much has changed”—he glanced down—“although I welcome the lack of ink in my tea.”

  Sabrina’s scalp tingled with heat, and she knew her cheeks must be the color of ripe cherries. “That was a long time ago, my lord. Things are quite different now.”

  “Indeed they are,” he answered.

  The way he said it caused her blush to deepen. She looked to her sister and saw that Eugenia was staring at her with a peculiar expression. She focused on taking a sip of her tea and hoped that he was finished. She hoped in vain.

  “You are as unrepentant now as you were then,” he said, smiling. “Some things never change.”

  She let out a weary sigh. “Are you planning to hold a grudge forever, my lord?”

  “Not at all. I was most impressed by your bravery, actually. Not many little girls have the bol…”—he stopped and coughed, glancing at the other ladies in the room—“the courage to handle a live snake.”

  “Snake?” exclaimed her mother and Eugenia at the same time.

  “What snake?” her mother persisted. “Henry, whatever are you talking about?”

  Sabrina shook her head, silently pleading with him not to tell. Again, no such luck.

  “She never told you?” His wicked eyes gleamed. “During my last visit here, Sabrina managed to somehow deposit a living snake into my coat pocket.”

  The unbelieving gazes of both women swung toward her, and she squirmed. “It was a childish prank, nothing more. And it was years ago.”

  “Sabrina! You must apologize at once!” demanded her mother. “I cannot believe you would do such a thing. What if it had bitten him?”

  But Montgomery’s laughter put an end to her tirade. “It was nothing more than a garter snake, Auntie, really.” He turned his attention to her once more. “It might interest you to know that I made it all the way home before it decided to make known its presence.”

  Sabrina clamped down on her tongue. So much for him leaping out and landing in a puddle…Disappointment filled her.

  “My valet discovered it as he was taking my coat,” he continued. “He felt something in the pocket, reached into it, and found the stowaway. The poor man had a fit of hysterics and very nearly fainted.”

  In spite of herself, she felt the corners of her mouth lifting.

  “There!” he said, pointing at her with mock severity. “You see what I mean? No remorse at all.”

  The laugh escaped her in the form of a soft snort. Unfortunately, it was the only sound in the room at that moment. She covered her mouth, mortified, as everyone else began to chuckle.

  Just then, the butler announced that Lord Chadwick had arrived.

  Thank God.

  Her mother’s smile faltered only the slightest bit at the sight of the eager face peering through the door. “Ah, yes. Our other esteemed guest,” she informed Montgomery apologetically. She beckoned to the new arrival. “Do join us.”

  Chadwick entered, but stopped short upon seeing Montgomery.

  Sabrina marked that in spite of the benign smile he wore, Montgomery’s eyes carried a clear warning. Her temper flared. Who did he think he was? He had no claim on her whatsoever.

  After only a moment’s hesitation, Chadwick moved to stand before her. “My lady, you are the very spring incarnate,” he gushed, lingering over the hand she held out. “Would that I were summer, that I might follow you for all eternity. You humble me with your extravagant beauty.”

  Beside her, Eugenia shook with suppressed laughter. Sabrina nudged her with a toe from under her voluminous skirts. “Thank you, my lord,” she managed, smiling.

  Once pleasantries had been exchanged and Chadwick had settled himself, Montgomery proceeded to completely ignore her. As if determined to make up for his lack of attention, Chadwick took every opportunity to be obsequious to the point of inciting nausea. Her patience with the whole situation was deteriorating with each breath. If she did not do something soon, she would scream.

  “My Lord Chadwick, would you care to accompany me and my sister on a stroll in the
gardens?” she at last cut in, interrupting his current soliloquy. “The day is warm, and I crave fresh air and sunshine.”

  The young man’s doe-brown eyes widened in happy disbelief. He rose, in his haste nearly upsetting a footstool. “My lady, I’d be delighted!”

  “What a wonderful idea!” her mother interjected. “Why don’t we all take a stroll? It is lovely outside, and my new tulips have finally begun to flower. I’ve been dying to show them off.”

  Eugenia put down her cup and saucer. “Actually, I should really go up to the nursery and”—Sabrina grabbed her sister’s other hand where it lay beside her and squeezed it, silently begging her to remain—“and check on little William,” Eugenia continued, pulling her hand away.

  Traitor!

  “Of course, my dear,” their mother cooed. “After all, it is his first time away from home.”

  Clenching her teeth in frustration, Sabrina allowed Chadwick to escort her from the room while Montgomery accompanied her mother.

  Even if it wasn’t exactly an escape, the walk was a pleasant change of scenery after the stuffy confines of the parlor. Or at least it would have been, had it not been for her companion. Chadwick clamped her hand in the crook of his elbow so tightly that her fingers were beginning to feel numb. She wriggled them, hoping to loosen his hold just a bit, but instead of releasing her, his other hand only moved to cover hers.

  It was hot and sweaty and disgusting.

  Not warm and dry like M—

  She barely refrained from yelping in surprise as the thought was interrupted by the scrape of something—paper, she thought—being inserted beneath her palm. A note. She glanced up at her escort, only to have to look away again in dismay. The lad was staring at her like a moonstruck calf. Wrenching her hand away, she shoved the note into her pocket.

  A deep laugh sounded from behind, and Sabrina looked back over her shoulder, worried that Montgomery had witnessed the clumsy exchange. But no, he was only responding to something her mother had said.

  Her belly tightened at the sight of him. The planes of his face were softened in merriment, and his teeth flashed white as he smiled. The sunlight revealed that his hair wasn’t actually black, but a very rich brown. Her fingers itched to learn its texture. Would it be soft and fine, or thick and wiry? It looked soft.