Surrender to Scandal

by Kelly Boyce

  Lord Pengrin. Hearing the name associated with Lady Henrietta only added to her misery. If Lord Ridgemont held the man in such high regard, how would she ever succeed in convincing him the viscount was not what he appeared to be, without exposing herself to ruin in the process?

  Unease plagued her as she sat next to Lady Dalridge, ignored by the gentlemen present as a suitable dance partner and by the ladies who curried the dowager’s favor. As midnight came and went, Judith wearied of sitting on her behind and made her excuses to escape to the ladies room. Afterward, heedless of the cold air, she slipped outside the first set of doors she could find.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Judith walked along the stone terrace, away from the doors and anyone who may come through them, until she found a little alcove cut into the side of the building that left her partially hidden. She breathed deeply as if the cool air could overtake all that felt wrong inside of her. It couldn’t, of course. But for a few moments, she enjoyed the view of the starry sky and the illusion of freedom and tried to ignore the fact that as each day wore on, her discomfort in her position as companion grew. Lady Henrietta was a lovely young woman and Judith had grown quite fond of her, but being so acquiescent was not in her nature. It was like wearing a pair of shoes two sizes too small.

  “I see we are of a similar mind.”

  Judith whirled about at the familiar voice behind her. “Lord Glenmor.” She glanced around. He was alone. They were alone. A dangerous situation should they be discovered, yet she said nothing, greedy for any time she could have with him.

  He bowed and kept a proper distance. Pity. “You look lovely this evening, Miss Sutherland.”

  She did not. She had exhausted her supply of dresses and was once again wearing one of Lady Henrietta’s altered cast-offs. A gown she had worn two other times in the past fortnight. A fact pointed out by Lady Susan when she stopped by to pay her respects to Lady Dalridge.

  “You are too kind, my lord. But I’m certain my appearance can in no way compete with the other young ladies.”

  “I beg to differ. While they’re all quite lovely for the most part, I find they pale in comparison.”

  She raised one eyebrow, sad to discover that despite all his wonderful qualities, Lord Glenmor was, in truth, daft. Or blind. Or, more likely, gallant in the way gentlemen thought they needed to be.

  “You do not believe me,” Lord Glenmor said, taking a step forward. He appeared genuinely surprised, which in turn, surprised her even further.

  “I am not beautiful, my lord. I never have been. My cousin, Patience, is the beauty in the family. I am the sensible one, nothing more.”

  An expression she could not quite pin down crossed his handsome features.

  “Come with me.” He held out a hand and for a moment, she hesitated. Going anywhere with him could spell her doom in more ways than one. He tempted her heart far too thoroughly. Yet, despite this knowledge, she slipped her hand into his, before her good sense could raise any further objection.

  They did not go far. He led her to a nearby pair of French doors covered from the inside with heavy drapery and illuminated from the outside by moonlight. Their images reflected against it, she standing in front with Lord Glenmor behind her, his hands resting on her shoulders. Despite being taller than many of the young ladies, she reached just past his chin. What would happen if she leaned back against him? Would his arms slide around her? Hold her close until the warmth of his body turned her limbs languid?

  “Tell me what you see,” he said, his voice a soft command that cut through her imaginings.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks and she glanced down to the stone at her feet. “There is nothing to see. Brown eyes, brown hair.”

  His hand left her shoulder and his fingers rested beneath her chin, gently lifting it up until they both stared at her reflection once again. The touch entranced her, sending fire racing through her veins and creating an ache deep within her.

  “There is everything to see. For your eyes are not simply brown. They are deep and dark. Mysterious.”

  Her blush increased tenfold. “They are nothing of the—”

  He cut her off. “And when you smile, a tiny dimple appears near the apple of your left cheek.” His hand left her chin and touched lightly upon the spot where her dimple resided.

  How had he noticed such a thing? A thrill danced up her spine.

  “And your hair is anything but just brown. It is the darkest chocolate, long and luscious.” He wound a loose curl around his finger. When he spoke again, his voice had changed, lowered to a whisper as if he were talking to himself, discovering as he went. “Soft to the touch. I suspect when you pull out your pins, it tumbles down your back in wild and uninhibited waves. Does it?”

  She glanced at his reflection. His gaze had shifted to stare at the curl entwined around his finger. She swallowed. A deep ache throbbed between her legs. “Yes.”

  “Sometimes…” He hesitated for a brief second, as if considering his words; perhaps whether or not he should speak them, before continuing. “Sometimes I imagine pulling out every last pin and watching it fall. I imagine what it would feel like to run my fingers through your hair and discover if it truly feels as silky as it appears. Even now, the moonlight glistens off it.”

  Judith closed her eyes. It was too much. Her heart fluttered rapidly against her breast and her skin cried out, desperate for his touch. And then its cries were answered as his lips touched the curve of her neck with gentle precision.

  She caught her breath and her eyes flew open. She should protest, but the words would not come. And even if they did, she would not mean them.

  “Your beauty begins deep inside of you and it shines through everything you do. Every look you give, every smile you offer. You should not try so hard to hide it away. Let it out,” he said, his hands returning to her shoulders, though she rested against his chest now and his warmth and strength radiated through her. “Let the rest of the world take note and wish with all their hearts that they could modify themselves to be even half as wonderful as you are.”

  Lord Glenmor, it turned out, was neither daft nor blind, but simply mad.

  But, oh, what affection she held for his special brand of madness. How she longed to immerse herself in it until the rest of the world faded away.

  He turned her around until she faced him and his fingers teased the sensitive skin of her neck, the line of her jaw. Her lips.

  “You claim to be sensible, and you are. You are intelligent and reliable, as well. All of those things. But they are only half of the story. You skipped over all of the best parts and, despite my noblest attempts, I cannot help but be captivated by you, Miss Sutherland. Utterly and completely and to my everlasting dismay.”

  “Because nothing can come of it.” She finished, speaking aloud the words that lingered between them in the hopes it would stop the insanity that had enveloped them. It didn’t. If anything, the words only added urgency to the tension that had teased them from the moment he’d offered his hand and she accepted.

  He nodded his acknowledgement. “No, it cannot. But I long to kiss you nonetheless. May I? Just this once, so I might have a lovely memory to carry with me. Something to hold tightly to when the days grow dark and empty.”

  She should say no. He offered her nothing in recompense for such liberties, made her no promises of a future. If anything, he made it clear one did not exist for them. She had been in this position once before, and been hurt as a result, deeply and egregiously. But somehow, this was different. There were no lies, no subterfuge. Only stark honesty.

  “Yes,” she whispered and lifted her head to accept his kiss, but it did not come. Not right away. Not where she expected. He kissed her brow. Her cheekbone. His fingertips explored the planes and angles of her face, finding new places for his lips to go. The feather-light torment made the ache at the juncture of her thighs almost painful, and had she been alone, she would have pressed her hand against it in the hopes of some relief. The
image of him doing such for her appeared unbidden in her mind and her breath caught in her throat at the sinful imagining.

  His hands stopped their exploration and cupped her face, leading her mouth to his and even then, even as she expected it, his kiss surprised her. Soft and tender, it teased and tempted before deepening and becoming all-consuming. Had the entire ballroom poured outside to witness the event, she would not have noticed. Nothing else existed. Only this kiss. This man.

  Her hands twisted into the lapels of his coat. She needed to be closer, to crawl into him and stay there forever. But there was no forever for them. None offered. None accepted. They were nothing more than this moment.

  It would have to be enough.

  The kiss broke and he ended it with several smaller ones as if his lips were reluctant to leave hers. The truth hit her then. One kiss would not be enough. It would never be enough. The cruelty of their individual fates crushed down upon her and she bit down on her bottom lip to keep the tears at bay.

  “I am the worst kind of reprobate.” He whispered and in his voice she heard the shared anguish. “To ask for such a thing, when—”

  “No more than I,” she said, with a small shake of her head. The kiss had been a beautiful moment. A memory to cherish for the rest of her days. “You were not alone in wishing for a kiss. Let us not spoil it now with regret and recriminations.”

  He fell silent then nodded, his forehead pressed lightly against hers. “Very well. You must be freezing. I should not have kept you out here.”

  “I am glad you did.”

  “So am I.” He gifted her with a small smile, but within it lived the sadness of their separate futures. His hands fell away and cold air rushed up and chilled her skin. “Off you go then,” he said. “I have kept you too long.”

  She did as he bade her. It was for the best. They could not risk a scandal. But as she walked away, feeling his gaze follow her, she could not extinguish the deepest wish that he could keep her forever.

  * * *

  “You’ve not heard a word I’ve said, have you, Ben?”

  Benedict pulled his gaze away from where the morning sunlight spilled across the newspaper in front of him. Not only had he not heard his mother, he had not read a single word, but rather stared at the print until his vision blurred. His mind had been on something else.

  Or rather, someone else.

  “Forgive me, Mother.”

  She set her fork down upon the plate in front of her, concern etched into the fine lines around her eyes. “You have not been yourself lately, Benedict. I fear my leaving may not be the best thing.”

  “Leaving?” Heavens, how much of their conversation had he missed? “We have only just arrived.”

  “We arrived several weeks ago and I only meant to stay for a brief while. Honestly, I had hoped to talk you out of this foolish bride hunt of yours during my stay, though I fear I have failed in that endeavor.” Mother sighed and sat back in her chair, giving him the look she often did when exasperation took hold.

  “I need to marry regardless, Mother. As earl, I need an heir. What does it matter whether I marry a rich wife over a poor one?” But his words lacked conviction, for now he understood what was at stake, what he would be giving up.

  Judith.

  He should not have kissed her. It was the highest impropriety and she deserved so much better than to be used in such a way. But he had been unable to resist the temptation to touch her, to taste her. Such temptation he had willingly surrendered to, only to regret it later.

  Not the kiss—that he would never regret. He would carry the memory of that moment with him until he took his last breath. But he mourned that he could not take it further. That he could not marry her and spend his days basking in her loveliness, inside and out. But the kiss had awakened in him the irrefutable knowledge that he would lament each morning he awoke to someone else, not her. And when he was blessed with children, a part of him would always wish that they had been borne of her, with dark hair and unfathomable eyes and her sweet, glorious smile and sensible nature.

  Their kiss had unleashed a desire he could not quench, and yet could not drink from ever again. He had taken the first step on the road to madness, for certain.

  Mother interrupted his thoughts. “One day you will wake up, Benedict, and you will realize that marrying for money mattered a great deal. That having saved the family fortunes proves a very poor substitute for love. Your father and I had little, but we were richer than most, because we loved each other. Do you not want that for yourself? Do you think your own happiness of no importance?”

  Therein lay the crux of his dilemma. As much as he longed for happiness, for the kind of life his mother and father had, he could not pursue it. He had been unable to save Father and Roddy from the illness that took them, or to be with them when it happened. All of his attempts to bring Uncle Henry back from the brink of madness had failed, leaving the Glenmor title and fortunes in a state of ruin. All he had left, the one thing he could do, was resurrect the family name—Father’s family name—and bring the title and fortunes back to their former glory. So that when he passed them onto his son, they would no longer be tainted with scandal and struggle.

  If that meant he must sacrifice his own happiness to achieve this, then so be it.

  “I am the Earl of Glenmor now, Mother. I cannot think in such singular terms as if my actions have no effect on anyone else.” She started to protest, but he held up a hand. He could not allow her to convince him otherwise. Ripe with the memory of last night’s kiss, it would be too easy a feat. And how would he live with himself then? “Please, Mother. I do not want to argue with you and cause strife before you leave. I dislike animosity before a separation, you know that.”

  He and Father had argued the last time he’d seen him. Benedict had not wanted to leave for school. He’d wanted to stay home with his family. He loathed the constant separation and school had proven a lonely enterprise. No one had much interest in cultivating a friendship with the eldest son of a youngest son who had long been shunned by his family.

  She sighed her displeasure, but relented. “As you wish. I have invited the Lindwells to pay us a call. Their daughters seem lovely and spirited and less likely to turn up their nose at a little scandal so long as they can marry a titled gentleman. They may be Americans, but still a far cry more amenable than Lady Susan.”

  “Very well then.” Though while avoiding a marriage to Lady Susan pleased him, nothing would ever live up to the dream of a lifetime with Miss Sutherland.

  * * *

  “James has invited Lord Pengrin to accompany us to Lady Felliwig’s dinner party this evening,” Lady Henrietta said, clasping her hands beneath her chin as she entered the solar after finishing her breakfast. Hen’s eyes, wide and expressive, radiated joy. But neither the sight, nor the news that Judith would have to suffer the viscount’s company yet again, did anything to improve her mood.

  “And has he accepted?”

  Hen took a seat on the sofa next to Judith. “Yes, and he has also indicated he will stop by for a visit today. Is that not wonderful? Auntie believes an offer may come before the Season even begins at this rate. Oh, Judith, do you think she is right? Do you think it is possible he feels for me what I feel for him? I had settled myself to the idea of a life alone, but now—Oh, I had never imagined this could happen! And so quickly!”

  Judith’s stomach turned on itself making her glad she had begged off breakfast on the pretense of a headache. Heartache would have been a more accurate description of her true ailment, but claiming such would require a more thorough explanation and she certainly wasn’t going to get into that.

  Nor was she about to encourage the relationship between Hen and Lord Pengrin. A relationship that experience told her was doomed to failure. The idea that Lord Pengrin would cause Hen the same grievous humiliation he had caused Judith tormented her beyond measure. The worst of it was, she was now certain the viscount had every intention of going through
with marrying Lady Henrietta, though not out of any sense of love for the young woman. He wanted her dowry. Needed it, if Lord Glenmor’s insinuation about his gambling debts were founded in truth. And once he had it, the only thing he would need Hen for was to produce his heirs.

  It was a dire prediction on Judith’s part, but one established in experience. She had seen the calculating flash in Lord Pengrin’s eyes when he looked at Hen. Unlike the passion and longing in Lord Glenmor’s gaze the night before, Lord Pengrin’s eyes possessed nothing but a mercenary gleam. Judith’s blood ran cold. He did not love or care for Hen. To do so would require a heart, an organ the viscount did not possess.

  “I cannot comment on what goes on in Lord Pengrin’s mind, I’m afraid. I do not know the man well enough.” The lie tripped off her tongue, leaving a bitter taste. If only she’d warned her off sooner, before Hen’s feelings had a chance to develop. “But do you not think you should consider other gentlemen as well? To have a comparison as to which one is best suited to you? Or to hold Lord Pengrin off to at least allow you a Season?”

  Judith reached for any reason she could think of, desperate to stop Hen from making the same mistakes she had, but it did little good. She wasn’t even finished with her suggestion before Hen started shaking her head in the negative.

  “My heart tells me he is the one. I feel beautiful with him, less afraid that others judge me. Is this not what you wanted for me?” Hurt colored her words and Judith’s heart squeezed.

  She reached out and took Hen’s hands in hers. “Oh, yes. Of course it is. I want nothing but happiness for you. But marriage is forever and should never be entered into lightly or too quickly. I would simply suggest caution and time. If Lord Pengrin feels as strongly as you do, he will be only too happy to wait.”