A Summer Scandal
Seasons of Romance, Volume 3
Rachel Osborne
Published by Rachel Osborne, 2020.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
A SUMMER SCANDAL
First edition. June 7, 2020.
Copyright © 2020 Rachel Osborne.
Written by Rachel Osborne.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Author’s Note
Why not try...?
About the Author
Chapter One
“I am surprised you are so eager to go to London!” Mr Edmund Gale announced to his oldest friend and soon-to-be bride.
“I am surprised you are so eager not to!” Juliet Turner retorted, turning them almost subconsciously away from the path that would lead most directly from her home to his and insisting upon their taking a little more time together before being forced to part. It was not entirely subconscious, for she knew with some certainty that Edmund’s mother was at home and that lady had never been especially fond of Juliet, never more so now that she had ensnared Mrs Gale’s only son to matrimony. Juliet smiled, unable to resist the humour in the thought that she was capable of ensnaring or otherwise persuading Edmund Gale to do anything other than what he wanted.
“Oh, I see how it is.” He paused at a stile, offering his hand to his companion in a silent show of chivalry. Juliet eschewed his help, hoisting up her skirts with one hand and using the other to scramble quite easily over the stile she had climbed more times than she could count. Edward snorted and followed her, jogging a little to close the space between them.
“You intend me to list every reason why we ought not go to London, in the face of your determined position for going, and at the last moment, when I have almost exhausted myself in thinking, you will nod your head and beam at me and declare that staying at home is quite clearly a sensible idea, never once disclosing that it was your plan all along. Do not forget, Juliet, I know you too well to be so easily manipulated!”
“Manipulated?” Juliet sniffed, although there was a small fragment of truth to Edmund’s words. She shook her head. “I should never seek to manipulate you. If I did not wish to go to London I should say so and not feel the need to flatter you into making the right decision.”
“You might flatter me a little,” Edmund put in, reaching out at the last moment to steady Juliet, who had missed her footing and pitched forward. “Heaven knows I am in need of it.”
“In need of it?” Juliet shot him a mischievous smile that served as both an encouragement and a thank you. “Since when have you needed flattery?”
“My dearest Juliet, since I began my campaign in earnest to win your heart.” He grew serious for a moment, and Juliet felt her smile slip. They had slowed in their progress until they were barely walking at all.
“You were reticent to the last, leaving me to wonder by the hour whether I stood even the slightest chance of securing your affections.” He rubbed his nose. “It is hard on a fellow to live in such uncertainty. And now I have it -” He had somehow caught hold of her hand and squeezed it warmly between both of his, before pressing the ghost of a kiss to her palm and releasing it. “My mother refuses to speak to me. Worse still, she scarcely acknowledges my existence!”
Juliet’s fingers folded over the spot on her palm that still burned with the fleeting touch of his lips and tried to hide the smile that Edmund’s affections evoked. She turned to scan the horizon, her eyes arrested by the sight of a tall figure striding towards them along the very path that they were poised to take.
“How fortunate, then, that you do not have to face her alone!”
Edmund looked at her, thinking, for a moment, that she volunteered to accompany him, and poised to play chivalry a second time in as many minutes. If Mrs Gale’s wrath was hard to bear for him, he certainly would not seek to subject his fiancée to it, knowing only too well that Juliet would either blow up in the face of Mrs Gale’s cruelty or freeze. He was not sure which outcome he would prefer. He followed her gaze and his stance changed.
“Good afternoon, Mr Weston!” Juliet called, waving at Edmund’s friend who had lately become their neighbour, as his stay at Northridge Place extended ever longer.
“Good afternoon, Miss Turner.” Nash Weston dropped in a theatrical bow, and as he straightened his smile grew. “You save me a journey,” he continued, as he drew level with the pair, and clapped Edmund on the shoulder warmly and a little too energetically to be entirely painless. “I was sent in search of you.”
“And see, you have found me,” Edmund grumbled, moving closer to Juliet again and offering her his arm. She took it but did not look away from the two gentlemen. She was not insensible of the growing resentment Edmund felt towards his friend and it seemed that news of their engagement, and the ensuing estrangement between himself and his mother, had not served to remedy the problem.
If anything, Juliet thought, Nash’s presence makes it worse!
Mrs Gale had taken to favouring Mr Weston over her own son, making a great show of taking interest in his affairs, despatching him on errands that ordinarily would have fallen to Edmund and generally seeking to divide the entire household further.
Juliet squeezed Edmund’s arm swiftly and secretly, scarcely noticeable to any but the two of them. Courage, she silently urged him. Do not blame your friend for your mother’s partiality.
Juliet knew Nash Weston well and liked him, perhaps best of all of Edmund’s London friends and she knew that Edmund would bear this current trial all the better with a friend to confide in. A friend who is not me, she thought, knowing that Edmund curbed the worst of his temper around her, and whilst there was little the pair concealed from one another, she could not expect a complete show of vulnerability from her cheery, good-natured fiancé.
“Well, Nash, I suppose we ought to return home.” He turned to drop a light kiss on Juliet’s cheek. “You need not come any further, Juliet, unless you wish to?”
There was the tiniest note of pleading in his voice, and Juliet relented almost immediately. She might have no personal desire to call upon Mrs Gale, but she had faced worse lions on behalf of those she loved, and she would not send Edmund into battle alone.
“I think perhaps I shall,” she said, lifting her chin and forcing a smile she hoped was convincing onto her face. “It is far too long since I last called on your mother, and I know my mother wished to send her best regards. Who better to bring them than me?”
Edmund visibly brightened and straightened, growing several inches with the buoyancy of love and the comfort of her presence.
“A fine plan!” Nash declared, clapping his hands approvingly. “Now, Miss Turner, if you don’t mind, I shall let you pair go on without me. I had hoped to find you at home.” He glanced from Edmund to Juliet. “Ah, that is, your home.” He patted his chest, indicating the pocket of his coat. “I have a book to return to your father, so I shall continue with that task, if you do not mind it, and exchange it for the next in the series, whic
h he had promised to me upon my finishing this.”
“Tell Mama I have gone to call at Northridge, then, won’t you?” Juliet asked, already turning Edmund back towards the path he had unconsciously veered away from. “And Edmund, you may continue to impress upon me all that is dreadful abut London, and why we should not even countenance going there...”
Edmund grinned, pleased to return to their easy banter of a few moments before, and already summoning the best of his arguments for deployment so he did not see the way Nash’s face fell. To be sure, it was scarcely a fall merely a shadow, resting fleetingly over the elegant, gentlemanly features before flitting away again but Juliet noticed it and she stored it away to consider later. Few things seemed to upset Edmund’s friend, but the mention of London had, and Juliet’s inquisitive mind already begged to know why.
LOUISA TURNER HAD NEVER been very fond of reading. Occasionally, she could manage to make it through a novel or two belonging to her sister, but her tastes trended towards the thrilling and scandalous rather more than Juliet would permit. However, she had observed the benefit of having a book to hand, for it afforded one the opportunity to appear busy when one was, in truth, lolling by the window and watching for visitors. They were in anticipation of no callers that afternoon, but Louisa was desperate for some company beyond that of her sisters and had cause to hope that maybe, just maybe, she could bring about a visit merely by wishing it.
“Are you enjoying your book, Louisa?”
Mr Turner’s droll voice broke through Louisa’s thoughts and she flinched, jumping so dramatically that her book flew to the floor with a loud thump. She glared accusingly at her father, who merely smiled as if he saw through her ruse and returned his attention to his singular card game.
The Turner parlour was quiet. Without Juliet and Edmund around, each of its occupants fell to their own silent, self-contained amusements. Bess was writing a letter, with as contented a smile as she had ever worn, resting on her face. Ordinarily, Louisa might have begged her to play for them, but she was reluctant to call her from a task she was so engaged in.
A change seemed to have swept over Louisa’s sister since the announcement of her engagement to an eminent pianist, and Louisa felt certain she would not respond to her bossing with anything like the meekness that had heretofore been a hallmark of their relationship. She sighed, tugging absentmindedly at one of her golden curls and wondering why, of all her sisters, she should be the one left alone, with nary a suitor nor an excitement on the horizon of her short, simple life.
It was no surprise that Maddy should marry, she mused, reaching down to retrieve her book and thinking over the year to date, marvelling at how many great changes had befallen the small Turner family in the spate of only a few months. She is the eldest, and it was surely only a matter of time. I oughtn’t to begrudge Bess, either. It had been a shock to all the family that quiet, homely Bess should secure for herself a suitor, and one as famed as Christopher Cluett, but one glance at the pair together and it was clear that they were perfect for one another, each so enamoured with music that their life promised to be one symphony after another. Bess will get to travel all over Europe accompanying him, Louisa thought, with a pout she could not quite conceal, even though she did not begrudge Bess her happiness. And I shall be left here all alone, with nothing to do and no-one to see! If any of the sisters were destined to stay at home, Louisa had never once considered the possibility that it might be her.
Even Juliet is engaged! This was both surprising and not, for Juliet and Edmund had been destined to marry for as long as anyone had known them. And they suit one another perfectly! Louisa thought, with a sly smile. They shall aggravate each other excessively all their lives, and leave the rest of us in peace! She had a somewhat fractious relationship with Juliet, for they were both swift-tempered and frayed one another’s nerves almost beyond bearing. Edmund, too, was an annoying brother in all but name. She could not count that a change worthy of note. But still, it left one undeniable fact to poke at Louisa’s contentment. She, the most beautiful and charming of all her sisters, was left without prospects or proposals, while all her sisters’ futures were assured. It isn’t fair!
She was poised on the edge of melancholy and wondered if even a book should be enough to shield her from her parents’ scrutiny, for Mrs Turner had laid down her sewing and was peering at her youngest daughter with an air of concern. Before Louisa could say or do anything, though, a knock at the window startled her and she glanced up, wiping every trace of tears from her large blue eyes as she saw the smiling, handsome face of Nash Weston.
“Oh!” she squawked, scrambling off her perch and to her feet, pinching colour into her cheeks and affixing a smile just in time for the parlour door to open. Nash burst in ahead of the servant sent to introduce him.
“Good afternoon, dearest Turners!” He beamed around the room, but his eyes rested at last and at length, on Louisa. “Miss Louisa, you looked quite charming bent over your book in the window just now. It was almost a shame to disturb you!”
He slid a slim volume from his pocket and strode over to Mr Turner. “I come to return a book of my own, and thank you for the lend of it.”
Mr Turner nodded but did not look up from his cards, and not for the first time, Louisa felt a strange, fleeting sensation that her father did not greatly approve of their newest neighbour. She shook off the feeling, bidding Nash join her in sitting down near enough to her mother and Bess to be proper but far enough away that they might converse as freely as they wished without too great a fear of being overheard.
“I was just saying to Bess that it has been so long since we last saw you!” she cooed, ducking her head a little, and grateful that she had afforded her curls a little more attention that morning.
“It is but a day or two at most,” Nash countered, with a wide smile. “But I am grateful to have been so missed! I suppose I cannot hope for such a blessing when you all remove to London.”
An icy breeze seemed to blow through the parlour, and Louisa glared at Bess, who bent even closer over her work and pretended not to notice.
“What did I say?” Nash asked, concealing his words behind his hand so that only Louisa might hear them.
“We are not all going to London!” Louisa declared, bristling at the selfishness of certain of her sisters. “At the moment I am not even sure we shall go at all!”
“Louisa.” On any other afternoon, Mr Turner’s one-word warning would have been enough to quell Louisa from any further complaint, but she was in an especially thorny mood that afternoon, and lacking a good sparring partner in Juliet, she turned her disappointment over to Nash, certain that he would take her side. She felt, just then, that she might benefit from a little sympathy from so handsome a gentleman.
“Bess prefers to stay here because she does not wish to be separated from Mr Cluett!” she wailed. “So I must be forced to forego the visit as well, and I did so long to see London!”
“London is not so very spectacular, Miss Louisa,” Nash said, shifting his weight in his seat and making a show of examining his fingernails. “You should enjoy staying here with your sister far better, I wager.”
“I wager not!” Louisa seethed, disproportionately annoyed that her concerns could be so easily overlooked. “And I am sure London is not so very spectacular to gentlemen that spend half their time there...”
Nash’s head snapped up and he smiled at her, driven to penance.
“Quite so,” he said, with a sigh. “Forgive me. But why must you all stay? Surely you can travel with Juliet and Edmund. You sister shall want a companion, won’t she?”
Louisa bit her lip. She had had this very suggestion already thrust upon her by her mother and had felt her inadequacy to the task. Her relationship with Juliet was fraught, and if the visit to London was to be as stressful as Juliet expected it to be, she could not imagine that she would be the person her bad-tempered sister would seek to invite.
Nash somehow seemed to sense
this without her explaining it, for he leant a little closer, his elbow knocking hers in a way that was surely not accidental.
“I am sure you could make yourself quite agreeable and helpful to Miss Turner, such that she would be only too happy to take you with her. T’would not be so very hard, would it?”
Louisa gazed into his dark, dreamy eyes and felt as if the decision was already half-made. He would be returning to London as well, and perhaps he wished her to go with him! He could not say as much, of course, but this was as close an invitation as she would get.
She nodded, never once breaking their gaze, and her smile grew. Well, she reasoned. If suitors do not befall a young lady in her home town, she must seek them abroad...even if that means following one to London!
Chapter Two
Nash’s mood, buoyed by a quarter-hour in the company of happy people, began to sink as he drew within sight of Northridge Place. He slowed his pace, dragging his heels with every step he took towards home. Home. He smiled grimly at the thought. He was outstaying his welcome, he knew that. Edmund was not subtle in his opinion that his friend might consider a return to his actual home, although these hints had lessened in quantity in recent days.
Doubtless, he is too consumed with thoughts of love, Nash thought, his smile slipping into a grimace. Edmund Gale must be one of the most fortunate men alive! He was wealthy and well-thought-of, and, imbued with the independence only wealth could bring, free to marry precisely as he had chosen. And he had chosen pretty, clever Juliet Turner. There were worse fates.
Nash recalled, with a shudder, the parade of wealthy wallflowers - none of them particularly pretty or even very young - his Aunt Reed had paraded before him when last he visited her. This was his true reason for avoiding London, for remaining long past his due at Northridge and choosing to ignore any hints his friend made about returning. Sooner or later, he must choose, and if he cared to see a penny of his inheritance, he must make the same choice as his aunt. She was growing weary of Nash’s merry ways as she tired of his friends, but even they no longer offered him the comfort and support they might once have done. Heatherington was married, Finch in business, and now even Edmund had bid farewell to bachelorhood. Nash was all that was left, and if he did not settle soon - settle well - his line of credit with his aunt would dry up entirely. It was all but gone now, and that would perhaps be reason enough to risk returning to London.
A Summer Scandal (Seasons of Romance Book 3) Page 1