Regency Scandals and Scoundrels: A Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Scarlett Scott

  “It’s beautiful out here,” Gabriel said, and Elizabeth nodded, unsure of what else to say. When she stole a glance at Gabriel, he was smiling as though he had not a care in the world, while she was in turmoil.

  Why had she let him kiss her? She was well aware from the last time it had happened that it would only confuse her all the more. Even now, as he began to make light conversation once again as he returned her home, her mind, which she had always so relied upon, was unable to properly grasp a thought.

  And as he walked her to her door, brought her hand to his lips, kissing it with his eyes intent upon hers, she knew with certainty that she was tearing herself in two—for as much as her head told her not to give in to his charms once more, that she was better off without him, her body was resisting the fight against her attraction to him. And her heart—well, that she had decided to completely ignore, for it wasn’t to be trusted at all.

  *

  Elizabeth woke the next day with new resolve to ignore any thoughts of Gabriel—for now, at least, until she was on smoother footing at the bank. It would only be a few more months, she consoled herself, and then she was sure she would feel more confident, would have a more solid foundation to work from. How long would it truly take many of the partners and clients to realize her abilities?

  Perhaps not as soon as she thought, she realized as she sat down at her desk, finding the correspondence atop it. She noted one of the first envelopes was from one of their wealthiest clients, a baronet involved in shipping, and she broke the seal and opened it with fingers of trepidation, for she had been attempting to call upon him for some time, but had been rejected time and again.

  Her stomach sank as she read the words within, and she closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them the words would have transposed themselves on the page. But, unfortunately, it was not to be.

  For the letter, addressed to her, clearly stated that the man had no desire to remain further involved as a client with the bank, and could he please meet with the manager, Mr. Bates (certainly not her, she inferred), to discuss removing his funds from the bank in order to invest elsewhere?

  Elizabeth dropped her head on the desk, fighting the headache that threatened—and the day had only just begun. Why, oh why, had Sir Hugo not even given her a chance?

  She knew very well why. Because she was a woman, which some men would never accept.

  Such as this one, entering her office at the very moment.

  “Henry,” she said warily. “What are you doing here?”

  “I am a partner of the bank,” he said, smoothly sliding into the chair across from her and crossing one leg over the other. “Can I not come to meet with the most senior partner with my pressing concerns?”

  “Of course you can, Henry,” Elizabeth said, summoning all the patience she had ever held as she regarded him across the desk. “However, most first make an appointment, as I have previously requested of you.”

  “But we are family,” he said with what Elizabeth was sure he thought was a charming grin, while in all actuality, it made her skin crawl. “Does that not count for something?”

  “Of course, Henry, family counts for many things,” she said with icy politeness, “such as loyalty, does it not?”

  “It does,” he said with a smile. “And honesty.”

  “As we have always found with one another?”

  “Of course,” he said, with a cool smile. “I believe I have made my feelings about your new… position well known.”

  “Yes, Henry,” she said, straightening in her chair, placing one hand over the other upon the desk in front of her. “In fact, I am actually glad you came, as I must speak to you about this. Your contestation of Grandpapa’s will has not helped matters, and we have been forced to spend much of our valuable time ensuring clients that the bank, and our family, are not at odds with one another. While I appreciate you being honest with me, as partners within the bank, we must all speak with one voice and appear unified to our clients. We cannot have anyone dissenting the position of another, or it weakens us as a whole. Do you understand what I am saying?”

  She said the words slowly, as though he was a small child, but he only sat back in his chair smiling smugly.

  “Let me guess, Elizabeth,” he said. “Did you receive a letter recently from Sir Hugo?”

  “I did, actually,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “I do not suppose you had anything to do with his decision to leave the bank?”

  Henry emitted an exaggerated sigh.

  “I actually sat down with Sir Hugo just last week. We happen to frequent the same club, you know,” he said with a wink. Elizabeth actually didn’t know, and that was one of the problems she faced—while she may belong to some of the same social circles as these men, she would never frequent the same clubs, would never find herself within the same rooms following dinner, partaking in conversations with one another. It left her at a great disadvantage to someone such as Henry, who could insert himself into those very same situations.

  “And what, pray tell, did Sir Hugo have to say?”

  “Only that, unfortunately, my dear Elizabeth, he feels the ways of women can be fickle. While he knows the bank continues to run efficiently and effectively with the same managers involved as during Grandfather’s time, he says that women may make sudden, impulsive decisions for no particular reason. That the bank is not safe nor under control when a woman could create an irreparable situation, such as distrust one of the partners who has been so confidently appointed.”

  He was quite clearly speaking of his own appointment, of course, but Elizabeth could not call him out upon it when he would only continue to use her words against her.

  “And I am sure, dear Cousin, that you absolved him of his fears?” she asked pointedly.

  “Alas, he was rather sure in his opinions of you,” he said, lifting his hands, not answering her question. “And to be honest, dear Elizabeth, he is correct in his assumptions. For how much longer are you going to continuing playing this game? It is getting rather foolish and you are only going to embarrass yourself if you keep at it much longer. Women do not belong in a business such as a bank.”

  She stood from her desk, placing her palms flat upon it as she leaned over toward him, her anger, for once, getting the better of her. For she was tired. It had been far too long since she had slept well overnight, as she continued to question herself and all of her decisions. And she was tired of the opinions of the men within this banking world. Particularly her cousin, a man she wished would disappear from her life forever.

  “I will have you know, Henry, that women have been partners in far more banks than this one. And they have been active partners. If you spoke to anyone besides those within your circle, you would know that many of the country banks can list women as partners, as have a few within London. But you wouldn’t know. For you care for nothing more than seeing your own bank accounts fill. Do not think I am not aware of your deception of Mr. Mortimer. I cannot even imagine what Grandpapa would think if he was aware of all you have done. Furthermore, Henry, Grandpapa named me his heir, and—”

  “If I hear you say that one more time, Elizabeth, I swear I shall fall asleep in boredom,” said Henry, leaning back in his chair with a grin, enjoying her tirade, which only made Elizabeth even angrier, but forced her to remember herself and hold her tongue. “Besides that,” he continued. “Grandfather was a senile old bat who didn’t know what he was doing by the end.”

  “Get out.”

  Her words were short, clipped, and lacking the emotion she truly felt as she pointed to the door.

  “Oh, Elizabeth, come now, I—”

  “I said, get. Out. Now.”

  “Cousin—”

  “I will not ask again.”

  “And if I don’t?” He asked, rising to his full height. “Just what are you going to do?”

  “Perhaps,” came a voice from the door, a deep, smoky voice that Elizabeth well recognized. “She will decline your part
nership, which she would be fully within her rights to do. Now, Clarke, when a lady asks you to leave, I have it on first-hand authority that it is typically in your own best interests to do so.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Gabriel had waited long enough in the corridor outside Elizabeth’s office.

  He knew she would far prefer to handle a situation such as this one with her cousin alone, but poor, old Henry clearly wasn’t hearing her words, despite the fact she had delivered them in quite a clear and concise manner.

  If Gabriel had any hesitation to enter her office, it was for fear that her cousin might provide her with the idea that there had been a deal struck between them—albeit one that he had no intention of ever honoring. But would Elizabeth see it that way? That he was only attempting to hold off her cousin while staying close to her?

  Finally, he became concerned that tensions were becoming slightly too heated in the office, and he pushed the door open, only for neither Elizabeth nor Clarke to even notice him for a few moments.

  “Clarence,” Clarke said now with a bit of surprise as he turned to look at him after Gabriel spoke. “What are you doing here? Is there a partners’ meeting of which I was not aware?”

  “Not at all,” he said. “I am simply here to pay a visit to Lady Elizabeth. It seems that you and I had a similar idea this morning.”

  He gave Clarke a pointed look, one that he hoped the man interpreted as, ‘Get out of this office in order to allow me time alone with Lady Elizabeth.’ Clarke would assume he was doing so for purposes other than the truth.

  Of course, Clarke was slow to catch on, and it took a few moments for recognition to spark within his eyes as to why Gabriel may perhaps be here to call upon Elizabeth. Clarke began to slowly nod with a smile, and Gabriel could only hope that Elizabeth couldn’t see her cousin’s face, or she might suspect something was amiss.

  Fortunately, she seemed otherwise occupied—on him. Her angry stare had swung from her cousin to Gabriel, and he nearly jumped at the intensity of it, though he was aware that her ire was primarily directed at Clarke.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked in a heated tone.

  “I am here to do as I said,” he responded, “to meet with you. I have some things to discuss.”

  “Very well,” she said, sighing as she turned away, some of her anger dissipating, and Gabriel nearly laughed at the forlorn look she cast upon the pile of correspondence on her desk. For who actually welcomed attending to such drivel?

  Finally, Henry rose, casting a look upon each of them before sauntering to the door.

  “When you change your mind, Elizabeth, you know where to find me.”

  She only shot him one more unimpressed glance before he left with a chuckle.

  “Henry,” she said, throwing down the pen she had been twisting in her fingers upon the desk with some force, “is a rat.”

  He said the words at the same time as she, and the two of them looked at one another in some surprise. Finally, he chuckled, and soon enough she reluctantly joined in, the two of them, at least, finding some mirth in their shared opinion of her cousin.

  “You must laugh more, Elizabeth,” he said, and her smile slowly faded.

  “It’s been somewhat difficult,” she said with a sigh, making her way to the circle of chairs and resting her head in her hands as she leaned over the round table in the middle. “Everything I do seems to be erroneous. Whichever way I turn, it seems to be the wrong direction.”

  She waved toward the pile of letters upon the desk. “One of our largest clients has just decided to take his business from the bank, and I have no doubt that much of it was Henry’s doing. Honestly, I don’t even understand why he wants to be the senior partner when he would hardly step foot in the building for it might require that he actually do some work.”

  “Would it be so bad, to allow him to take over, to take some of the pressure off yourself? For as you say, I’m sure he would rely on others who are currently working at the bank.”

  “Absolutely not,” she said, shooting him a vehement glare, her violet eyes practically glowing. “The ideas he has to apparently save money would only run this bank to the ground. Ideas that he was already spouting mere days after my grandfather’s death.”

  Then recognition dawned.

  “You are goading me. No more manipulations please, Gabriel.”

  “Elizabeth,” Gabriel said, softly now, seeing she needed to calm somewhat. “Come here.”

  He crooked a finger, beckoning her closer, but she only crossed her arms over her chest as though she were defending herself.

  “Why?”

  “Can you just come here… please?”

  He lifted his palms up now in supplication, and she sighed, dropping her own arms and stepping closer to him. Gabriel stood, moving behind her. He brought his hands to her shoulders, but when he set them down she jumped a step away from him.

  “Shhh,” he whispered in her ear, coming closer once more, and this time she shivered, likely from his breath on her neck. He slowly replaced his hands and began to carefully knead his fingers into the tight muscles of her shoulders and upper back. She tensed for a few moments until she finally gave into his touch.

  “How does that feel?” he asked softly.

  “Heavenly,” she admitted, her head rolling slightly back and forth as she now not only accepted his offering but silently requested more of it. Continuing his massage, he steered her over to one of the Gillows elbow chairs, helping to set her down upon it while he sat on the arm of the chair to provide himself some leverage.

  He wasn’t sure how long they stayed in such a position, him applying the pressure she so needed upon the warm skin he could feel through the silk of her dress, but finally it seemed as though she were leaning back against him. When he looked over her shoulder, her eyes were beginning to shut, as though she were nearly falling asleep.

  “Elizabeth?” he whispered. “Are you still awake?”

  “Of course!” she said, sitting up with a jerk now, and he shook his head, knowing that soon enough she would be tensed up back over the desk, and all of his hard work would be for naught.

  “I’m so sorry… I have forgotten myself,” she said, her voice just over a whisper, and he shook his head despite the fact that she couldn’t see him.

  “Do not apologize, Elizabeth, for taking a moment to yourself.”

  “What was it you wanted to speak to me about?” she asked him now, and he sighed at how quickly she reverted back to business. Did the woman never take any time to actually enjoy life?

  “I actually have something for you. A gift, if you will.”

  “Oh, you really shouldn’t have,” she said, and he knew they were more than just words—she likely sincerely felt that he should not have brought a gift of any sort. For that would mean that he was expecting something of her, courting her—of which she was clearly not accepting.

  “I wanted to,” he said softly. “And you deserve it.”

  She eyed him somewhat warily but took the offered box from his hands, and he felt a jolt when their fingertips brushed as she took it. It was as though he were a young lad in the first blush of love around her. How was he letting a woman affect him so?

  But affect him she was.

  She took the box in her long, elegant fingers, carefully unwrapping the twine and then the brown paper, before carefully folding it on the desk beside her. It was as though Gabriel couldn’t bring his gaze away from those hands, as he pictured them on his neck, running down his chest, and further, down to—

  “Oh, Gabriel.”

  Her voice, low and throaty, brought him out of his reverie. Her gaze was in her lap, staring into the box she held, now open to reveal the contents within. Slowly, she reached inside, lifting out a writing set. She set the items upon the desk—the feather quill pen, nib pen, ink well, and blotter, arranging them just so.

  She picked up the pen, running her fingers tenderly over the blue-green feather.

&nb
sp; “This is beautiful,” she whispered almost reverently. Gabriel resisted the urge to smile in satisfaction. “Is this from a peacock?”

  “It is,” he nodded, steepling his fingers together in front of his face.

  Elizabeth was about to return the pen to the holder when she eyed it more carefully, turning it one way and then the next.

  “Gabriel,” she said slowly, “This feather is from a right wing, is it not?”

  When she turned to look at him now, he nodded.

  “As much as you try to hide it, I am well aware of your tendencies to write with your left hand—a practice your parents surely attempted to change?”

  “They did,” she said, her cheeks coloring. “I am perfectly able to write with my right hand but… you are correct. I do prefer the left. It is easier. How did you know?”

  He shrugged. “By watching you. Whenever you think no one is looking, you write with your left hand, and then when you know others are watching, you switch to your right. You also tend to use your left hand in other actions as well, though you likely do not even know it.”

  Her face turned even redder at his words, which somewhat disconcerted him.

  “I apologize, Elizabeth, I didn’t mean to offend you—”

  “Oh, you didn’t, not at all,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I suppose I simply wasn’t aware that you—or anyone—had actually noticed at all.”

  “Of course I noticed,” he said softly. “I notice everything.”

  She looked up at him then, catching his eye, and he tried to determine what her gaze was telling him. It seemed to hold partial respect for his observations, and yet some wariness as well—as though it concerned her that he kept such a diligent eye upon her.

  While she stared at him, Elizabeth was absently running her fingers over the holder, and she must have felt something beneath the skin of her fingertips as she broke their gaze to inspect it further.

  “What is this?” she murmured, and she turned the ink well for a better look.