To Wed in Scandal (A Scandal in London Novel)

by Liana Lefey

  His once-shiny boots were now covered in mud, manure, and heaven only knew what else. With great difficulty and much cursing, he removed one and emptied it of the foul liquid it contained, forgetting for the moment that he was inside his carriage.

  Cursing yet again, he thumped the roof to signal the driver. As the vehicle lurched into motion, he prayed he made it home without adding further to the stink in here—or his own humiliation.

  Tonight had been the worst yet. Unable to find rest, he’d ventured down to the club, knowing Percy would not be there, as he was escorting his fiancée to the Yardley ball.

  The thought was enough to make his stomach threaten to turn itself inside out—again.

  A few rounds of cards, yes. A pleasant distraction. That was what he’d needed. A laugh or two, yes. And a pipe. And a drink.

  Perhaps several.

  A complete disaster.

  He’d done this to himself. He’d brought a cat in to chase off a mouse, and the cat had unwittingly bitten him instead. It wasn’t Percy’s fault. After all, the man had asked him several times about his feelings for her, and he’d denied any sentiment other than a desire to protect her. He should have told the truth from the beginning and not been such a coward.

  He’d lost her.

  And now she was marrying his friend. She would get exactly what she’d told him she wanted.

  At least she’ll be safe from Fairford, he reasoned. And Percy would be good to her. As good as she expected, anyway.

  It was small comfort in the face of the misery he was currently experiencing, but at this particular juncture, he would take what comfort he could.

  Finally, blessedly, they reached their destination. Two footmen helped Henry out, managing to haul him halfway up the steps before he shook them off. After stumbling and bruising his shins twice, he finally allowed them to help him the rest of the way into the house.

  Looking utterly dismayed, his valet took his ruined cloak. His eyes widened as he noticed one of Henry’s boots was missing. “M’lord?”

  “Not now, Watkins,” Henry slurred, batting the man’s hands away as he pitched toward the bed.

  “But, my lord! You cannot go to bed in your present state!”

  The note of hysteria in his voice made Henry stop. He looked down at himself. God, he stank! The odor emanating from his fouled garments was absolutely astonishing. They would have to be burned.

  Thirty minutes later, he sat in the tub, watching curls of steam roll off the surface of the water. The scent of soap mingled with the strong, acrid smell of coffee as Watkins brought him another cup. Gratefully, he took it.

  “M’lord?”

  Wearily, Henry turned to face his inquisitor.

  “Forgive my presumption, but wouldn’t it be better to busy yourself elsewhere for a while?” he suggested delicately. “Paris, perhaps?”

  Henry shook his head, wincing at the sharp pain it caused. There was no such thing as a secret in London. Servants always knew. “I shall remain in London until after the wedding.”

  Even through the lingering fog of inebriation, he knew he’d sulked long enough.

  “You look ravishing,” said Percy.

  She knew he meant it. The deep-lilac silk was a perfect complement to her coloring, as were the amethysts adorning her neck, wrists, and ears. She had worn this gown specifically for him, knowing his love of the color. Her hair was piled high in his favorite style, too, with cascading curls down her back.

  “You look rather charming, yourself,” she said, inspecting his attire with approval. His jacket was an exquisite confection of violet silk with velvet trim in a deeper shade, picked with gold embroidery and tiny diamonds. Layer upon layer of frothy lace spilled from his neck and cuffs, too.

  He looked like a perfect fairy-tale prince—and if ever she had need of one, it was now. Tonight was the dreaded Pembroke ball. She would have to face Henry and his family one last time.

  Percy had tried to convince her it was unnecessary to attend, but she insisted on going. She had to attend, if only to prove to Henry that she was truly happy.

  The affection in Percy’s eyes changed to wariness as his gaze shifted above her shoulder. “Good evening, Countess.”

  Sabrina turned, astonished to see her mother descending the stair. She was dressed in mauve silk, diamonds, and pearls. “I thought you weren’t coming?”

  Her mother smiled, shaking her head and setting the diamonds at her ears to swinging. “I never said I was not. I wouldn’t miss the second most important ball of the Season. Not even under the circumstances.”

  An hour later, Sabrina strove to exude confidence as they entered Pembroke’s grand ballroom. All of London was salivating in anticipation, she knew. Tonight would provide grist for the gossip mill no matter what happened.

  Percy was a solid comfort at her elbow as her friends greeted her with undisguised wonderment. Clearly, no one had expected her to show her face here.

  Eugenia came at once and appropriated her arm. “Lady Bidewell has just let slip that her daughter will wed Lord Fairford on June twenty-fourth—the day before your wedding,” she said. “The spiteful cow is deliberately trying to upstage you.”

  Sabrina could not care less which day Miss Bidewell chose, but for her sister’s sake, she made a show of concern. “I wonder how she could have known. We have not yet publicly announced the date. Mama only ordered the invitations last week. Perhaps it was merely chance that made her select that day.”

  “Ha!” Eugenia said, scoffing. “There are a limited number of calligraphers in London. I’d be willing to wager she made inquiries and bribed the one Mama hired to give her the date. I also heard that she hired the same couturier.”

  “At Mama’s recommendation, no doubt,” Sabrina cut in, trying to calm her. “She was helping Lady Bidewell with her daughter’s launch, remember?”

  Eugenia crossed her arms stubbornly. “Even so, it is unconscionable that she should infringe so upon your plans in this manner.” Suddenly, her narrowed eyes grew as round as saucers.

  Sabrina’s heart began to pound. She turned, and there he was.

  “May I have the honor, my lady?” asked Henry, holding out his hand.

  Her head dipped in acquiescence before her mouth could decline. She could not refuse the host, in any case, she reasoned. And this would be the last time they ever danced.

  She scarcely felt the ground beneath her feet for the insistent drumming in her veins. Everything that had dimmed and dulled into an endless landscape of blurred grey over the past several weeks sprang back into vivid color and clarity. Every nerve in her body was alive and possessed by longing.

  “You are unhappy,” he said simply.

  “I would not be if you would simply leave me alone,” she said with heat. “Henry, please. You must understand that I cannot just—”

  “Trust in my love?” he supplied. “I do love you, Sabrina. Surely you must know it by now.”

  All at once, her eyes filled. Love. The one word her heart wanted so badly to believe in, to trust in—and couldn’t.

  “Marry me, Sabrina,” he urged. “Say yes, and I will make you the happiest woman on earth. I swear on my very life that I will never betray you.”

  His midnight eyes were so earnest, so intense and full of feeling. The thought of them dulling over the years as his love for her turned into resigned tolerance—or worse—was unbearable.

  “I cannot,” she choked out as the music drew to a close. Disengaging, she turned and forced herself to walk away from him.

  She must find Percy and leave. Immediately. The border was only a few days’ ride away. It took a while to locate her affianced. She walked into the room, the estate’s office of all places, just as he was filling his glass. Her relief on seeing him was like a cool bath. “Thank heaven I finally found you.”

  Percy downed the liquor and then plunked the empty crystal goblet on the mantelpiece.

  Coming right up to him, she placed her hands on his che
st, intending to stretch up and kiss him. He staggered backward a little, as though caught off balance. The clumsy motion startled her. Usually he was so controlled and elegant in his movements.

  “Percy, I want to get married right away,” she said in a rush. “I don’t want to wait. If we take your carriage now, we can be in Scotland in less than three days. We’ll have a good head start. No one will be leaving here for hours yet.”

  He stared at her for a moment. “You want to run for Gretna Green?”

  “Yes. Right now. This very minute.”

  “Why?”

  “We can purchase a change of clothing at one of the inns along the way when we stop to eat,” she pressed on. “It’s only for a few days, and then we’ll be back in London again. It’ll be an adventure!” she added.

  “Sabrina, I asked you a question. Why, of a sudden, do you crave an anvil wedding?”

  “I simply don’t wish to wait any longer,” she told him quite truthfully. “We both know what we want, and I think it’s pointless to wait any longer to have it.”

  “Do you think me a complete fool? Sabrina, it’s no good. I saw you with Henry.”

  Her stomach clenched. “A final farewell. I told you, I’ve made my choice,” she said, grasping him by the shoulders.

  He pulled back and shook his head slowly from side to side. “Don’t. It’s not enough, Sabrina.”

  She blinked, not understanding. “Not enough?”

  “I know now that I want what I saw in your eyes when you looked at him. And that’s something I can never have from you. You are fond of me, and perhaps in time you might come to feel more, but I would have to be content with only a corner of your heart. I was a bloody fool to think I could ever be satisfied with that as my lot.”

  “But you and I were agreed regarding what we consider essential to a successful marriage. I thought you understood—”

  “I cannot marry you, Sabrina. To do so would only result in misery for us both. And for Henry.” His mouth twisted.

  “You are breaking our engagement?” The words came out only faintly.

  “Go to him, Sabrina, and be happy. Marry Henry. It’s him you want, not me. He loves you, you know. He asked me to help him protect you, and I wondered then if he felt more for you than he claimed. He denied it then, but I know now that he is in love with you—just as much as you are in love with him.” He looked down, as though unable to meet her gaze any longer. “He is a good man. The very best, in fact. You could not ask for a better husband than he will be to you. Far better than I would have been, despite all of my good intentions.”

  Shock raced through her, burning down her spine with an unpleasant stinging sensation. Marry Henry? After all she’d done to avoid it? This was a nightmare. Nothing had worked out as she’d planned. Nothing.

  She backed toward the door, grasping its handle with shaking fingers. “I cannot,” she said roughly. “If you will not marry me, then I shall find another, but not him. Never him.” She turned the handle and fled.

  DAWN ARRIVED FAR too soon, its relentless, golden beams prying Sabrina’s swollen eyelids open against their will. Her head ached abominably, her face felt puffy, and her nose was as raw as butcher’s beef. Rolling over, she buried her head beneath a pillow. “How on earth am I going to get out of this?” she groaned.

  Percy would let her announce the end of their engagement, of course. He would leave it to her and accept whatever excuse she gave out, for he was far too much of a gentleman to tell anyone he’d been the one to call it off.

  Would yet another man be willing to brave the notorious woman who’d chewed her way through four suitors in one Season? Hope struggled to stay alive in her. It was possible. It had to be. After all, women who’d suffered far worse events still married, and married well. She rose and, after applying cool cloths to her eyes to reduce the soreness and swelling, dressed. She ate breakfast in silence, taking only toast and weak tea. Truth be told, she hadn’t the stomach for much else, in spite of her perfectly healthy constitution.

  “I’ve noted your lack of appetite of late, Sabrina. You are not with child, I hope,” her mother murmured quietly after the servants left.

  Startled, Sabrina looked up. “Mama, surely you don’t think I would do something so foolish? Heaven knows I’ve better sense than that.”

  “Heaven may have confidence in your good judgment, daughter, but I’ve been questioning it for quite some time,” her mother said snippily. “Given your fiancé’s reputation, I and the rest of London will consider it a miracle if your first child isn’t born several months ‘early.’”

  Fiancé. Sabrina glanced down at the ring on her finger. She’d forgotten to give it back. And that blessed oversight had just saved her from having to make any unpleasant explanations—at least for the time being, provided he didn’t immediately demand the token’s return. “Then I suppose you’d better prepare to be astonished,” she said, lashing back with quiet venom, “for I remain as God intended until I am married.”

  “Wonders will never cease,” her mother said, ignoring her show of temper.

  Sabrina rose. “You wrongly malign him, Mama, and I find myself quite dismayed to learn your opinion of me as well. You must excuse me. My head has begun to ache again, and I wish to return to my chambers.”

  She stayed out of sight until her mother left to fulfill her social obligations. It was midafternoon before she ventured down to the morning room for a change of scenery.

  She needed to get around the problem of Percy’s defection without her mother or Henry finding out about it. If he did, he’d offer himself up as a replacement, and she’d have no choice but to accept or become a spinster aunt. She grimaced at the idea, but it was better than the convent.

  The church! If Augusta had spoken true about her husband’s brother having a tender place for her, then perhaps there was still hope. I wonder if he would actually consider me?

  Squeezing her eyes shut, she shook her head to rid it of ridiculous thoughts. Marrying Saint Peter was not an option.

  What am I to do?

  She heard a noise behind her and turned, expecting to see one of the servants. It was Fairford. Squealing in alarm, she rose “What are you doing here?”

  He held a finger to his lips. “There isn’t much time, so I shall come straight to the point. I know Falloure has abandoned you, Sabrina. And I know you think you’ve no other choice but to accept Montgomery. I’ve come to offer you an alternative.” With no warning, he knelt at her feet and pulled a ring from his coat pocket. “Come away with me, instead. We can flee to Scotland and—”

  Her astonishment was complete. “You still want me? Even after—”

  “I regret my harsh words,” he said. “My only excuse was a bruised heart. I beg you to reconsider.”

  There was a God in heaven, and He’d just given her the answer to all of her problems.

  “I will,” she whispered, her head reeling. “I will marry you, my lord.”

  “I promise you’ll never regret it, my darling.”

  Reaching down, he pulled Falloure’s ring from her finger and tossed it into the ashes in the hearth, replacing it with his own. He kissed her then, forcing his tongue deep into her mouth.

  When he broke away, she just stood there with her eyes closed, gripping the back of the chair for support. No, she didn’t desire him. Just the opposite. And thus she would marry him.

  “I’ll come for you tonight at the third hour,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the door with concern. “Meet me by the east gate, and bring only what you must, for we travel lightly. We’ll ride to the edge of the city and meet my carriage there.”

  He ground his mouth hard against hers one last time before fleeing.

  Forcing what she hoped passed for a happy smile, Sabrina waited until the door closed behind him before wiping her lips and giving in to the urge to shudder in disgust.

  Pocketing Fairford’s ring, she knelt and picked Percy’s out of the ashes, looking at it with
regret. It would have been far better to marry him. She had at least enjoyed his company. But he’d given her little other choice.

  Her course was clear. Wiping the ring clean with a corner of her underskirt, she put it back on her finger. Then she retired to her chambers and rang for her maid to come help her undress.

  When her mother returned a few hours later, she came to her chambers. “I believe I understand now the source of your illness last night and this morning,” she said gently, coming to sit beside her on the bed. “Lady Brixton told me everything, my dear. I think that perhaps I might have been a bit more harsh with you than you deserved.”

  Sabrina’s gut tightened painfully. Had someone else witnessed her humiliation last night?

  “It is obvious to me now that for all of his seeming awkwardness, the man is a practiced seducer, a wolf in sheepskin,” continued her mother. “They will have to be married by special license at once, of course. The scandal of it has all but sent Lady Chatworth to her bed in hysterics.”

  Her mind raced. Chatworth…

  “And in the library, of all things! No one doubts that it was a deliberate slap at both you and Henry,” her mother added with heat.

  Sabrina’s confusion evaporated, and she breathed again. Good heavens, she’d thought Mama was referring to her having been jilted by Percy. As her fear receded, happiness took its place. Chadwick had compromised Miss Chatworth! She put her head down to hide lips that twitched with the effort it took to keep a smile from forming on them. And, apparently, he’d done it in Henry’s library. A laugh tried to escape, but she choked it back.

  Clearly mistaking her reaction for a show of grief, her mother looked at her with sympathetic eyes. “I’m so very sorry, my dear. It must have come as a great shock.”

  “I shall recover in time, I’m sure,” Sabrina said, keeping her head down.

  “That’s the spirit, dear. If it is a disappointment for you, think of poor Miss Chatworth. And her family, of course. Lady Chatworth thought to have the Earl of Scarborough for a son-in-law, for he’d just begun to pay court to Melissa. Now those plans are in ruins, along with her daughter’s reputation.”