A Proper Scandal (Ravensdale Family Book 2)

by Rebecca Paula

  It must have been four or five in the morning. The night’s darkness was fading to a new day, even though she was still stuck in the one before. She could not remember the last time she was awake for the daylight hours. Somehow, she had transformed into something of a nocturnal creature, out to play with the wicked spirits of Paris at night, resigned to sleep off her sins during the day. Once, it had been fun. Now, it was just the same endless dribble with the same boring faces.

  She reached out and tipped the champagne glass over. The liquid spilled over the crowded table, seeping into the fine tablecloth, stretching out for the others. No one noticed.

  Minnie eyed the silver spout of the absinthe, the candles licking the metal, as another icy drop fell. One slow drop at a time was how she counted the minutes.

  Drop.

  “Evie?”

  Drop.

  Minnie tapped her fingers in the puddle of champagne, the liquid spraying her fingertips as a bored smile spread over her face. She squinted to focus her gaze.

  “Evie?”

  Drop. Another splash over the sugar cube. The green liquid rose in its glass with a remarkable lack of speed. It would be her funeral before she could have another drink.

  It was probably for the best. She was a little further into her cups than she thought. She hoped she could go to bed soon. Then the fact that the world was spinning would not matter.

  Laughter filled her ears, familiar but foreign all the same. Nothing had fit quite right for some time.

  Only a few things were certain. It was a certainty that men desired her, as evidenced by the man’s lusty laugh shaking her awake now. It was a certainty that she had a fair deal of money now. It was a certainty that she had grown tired of the man sitting at the other end of the table, flirting with another actress.

  She stared at the man’s goatee as she tried to speak. She was so bored she could not even manage small talk. She swiped the cigar between his lips and took a puff herself, throwing her head back to gaze up at the night’s stars, but the sky was a little warmer now, the darkness was fading. Minnie sank into the oversized chair, kicking her feet up to the side as a whirl of skirts swirled into the air. She let out a wicked giggle, amused as she arched her back over the other side and tipped backward, losing herself in a cloud of cigar smoke. A hand ran over the rounded crests of her breasts, warm lips traveled their way up her throat.

  “Evie.”

  Alex wouldn’t call her that name. She inhaled and smelled the sweet honeysuckle in the air, nothing of his orange and cedar soap. But she pretended for a moment that it was his hand skimming her arm, his lips blessing her skin in their search for more. His body there with her and his voice, calling out to her. She lost herself in the momentary pleasure of such a dream.

  The hands that pulled her back to sitting upright weren’t the right ones, either. They were too smooth and a bit too wide to be the ones that set her body on fire. The cigar was pulled out from between her lips as a hungry mouth took hers, tasting of absinthe. It was a sloppy assault, even if it did leave her breathless as she was hauled to her feet.

  “It’s late and I want you in bed, mon chaton.”

  The eyes staring back at her weren’t blue. The face a little rounder, and his smile not nearly as charming as the one she remembered so fondly. When her lover kissed her again in front of the others, Minnie thought something of hers had been misplaced. There was no point in searching for it. It belonged to someone else entirely, across the ocean, far from her and this tedious dinner party.

  Glasses clinked together, drowning out the debate of politics and art. And if a smell could be intoxicating, Minnie feared the honeysuckle would soon consume her and weigh her down until she drowned in the sweet floral perfume. But her lover’s hand helped her move forward. His hands were greedy, first dragging her inside, then again once when the pair reached bed and they covered her body, seeking pleasure.

  His body demanded hers and she gave it willingly, but not entirely. She was still missing that one piece that had made her whole. So instead, she focused her eyes over the man’s shoulders, out of her bedroom window as the sun rose over Paris; the start of another day she would never see.

  *

  The clasp on her bracelet was being troublesome. She frowned, chasing the string of diamonds as they slid over her silk glove in a frustrating circle. Maybe it was the champagne, but Minnie felt the same way.

  How embarrassing to be so out of sorts for the world to witness. She should extend her apologies and return home for an early evening. It was early evening still, right?

  “Do you need help, miss?”

  She looked up at the maid standing before her. It was fortunate that someone offered before she made an irreparable fool of herself. In the morning, she was sure the scandal rags would talk about her disheveled state. They loved to share her scandals just as often as they loved to gossip about her latest gown or stage role.

  “Yes, thank you,” she said, casting a hardened glare at the other women. She hoped they would over-powder their faces and look like clowns on their return to the party.

  Everyone was so eager for Minnie to finally fall from grace. If she had learned anything, it was that people wanted to be at the top more than anything. So when she found herself some prize of Paris, it was only natural to be living in a constant bubble of hatred and false praise. Competition was fierce between courtesans, for the truth of it was, beauty waited for no one. There was always someone younger, always a fresh face to lure away men. But Minnie had taken it upon herself to be more than another les boulevardiers. She used her travels to win over crowds with tales of adventures, used her wits to make for interesting conversation. She made herself more than a pretty face and for that, she had been awarded with callers upon callers; princes, even.

  The maid made quick work of the clasp and asked if Minnie needed further assistance, but she had already turned, ready to exit into the crush and seek out her host to apologize for having to leave early. Like most nights, her wishes were pushed aside for the wants of others.

  Those who thought they were her friends, who had fooled themselves into believing that she allowed anyone close, dragged her from group to group like some prized pony. She smiled until her face hurt at the compliments on her china silk yellow gown, the way the light danced in her chestnut hair, and her latest stage role. For some time now she felt she had been floating outside of herself, carrying on with the motions of life without actually living.

  “Evie?”

  She blinked, forcing her smile to spread further to avoid appearing embarrassed at being caught in her daydream. Minnie was better than the gossip spread about her.

  “Your portrait,” a man said. He had the strangest mustache—waxed thin and curled into coils on either side of his mouth. It made it difficult to concentrate when he spoke. No doubt, he had heard that she was no longer in keeping with Monsieur Pilliard by the way his green eyes lingered over her lips.

  “Oh, yes.” She took in every bit of him, from the way his honey hair held in a fashionable wave, the way his mouth curled at the corners, all respectability on the surface. “I’m looking forward to seeing what Master Rauldaundi captured with his brush. His show last year was quite breathtaking.”

  The others surrounding them nodded their approval. She could last a little longer for the evening if their admiration held out.

  Then she was moving once more, ushered toward the front of the crowded room to stand beside a row canvases draped in velvet, ready to be revealed to the world. Her likeness, beneath one.

  “There is no need for nerves,” Vivien said, leaning close.

  And there wasn’t any reason to be nervous. If the painting turned out awful, the spectators would riot because Evangeline Dupree was a courtesan and socialite, acclaimed for not only her acting, but for the way her face had a look of heaven etched upon each curve. Or so it was often said in the papers.

  Master Rauldaundi held his arm out for her join in, hundreds of ea
ger eyes waiting for the reveal. His profile was handsome, classically Roman. There had been rumors that they were involved romantically. In truth, he had been the closet thing she had to a friend as she sat for the portrait. They had shared easy conversation and for once, in a very long while, Minnie had slipped into the habit of talking freely. The scandal was excellent news for Rauldaundi, whose reputation soared overnight. His work was very much in demand now.

  Her eye caught the loosened clasp once more. She could not fix it while everyone watched her and listened to Rauldaundi give his speech. But Minnie couldn’t help but stare and wish to make the clasp do the one job it must.

  Then a whoosh as the velvet pulled away from the large canvas. The collective murmuring buzzed before the applause. She joined in too, staring blankly at her portrait. The other paintings were revealed with the same ceremony, but Minnie couldn’t help but stare at the sad eyes gazing back at her—her own hazel eyes. He had captured her perfectly. Dressed in black, her hair swept up beneath a flouncy black hat, dotted netting draped over her face. The only thing of color was her red mouth, stretched into a Mona Lisa smile, begging for someone to make sense of the world.

  The answer never arrived.

  She shook off her discontent and smiled at the crowd awaiting her reaction. Minnie thanked Rauldaundi and made sure to blush as he raised her hand to his lips, all the while wishing to disappear and return to her quiet home. Despite it not being early evening any longer, it was still early for her to retire, so she pushed off into the crowd, immediately swarmed with requests to perform, praise, and blatant invitations to join gentlemen’s beds.

  Her lips were curled around another glass of champagne, her head nodding in agreement to someone’s foolishness. It was easier to agree than to show one had a mind of one’s own in a crowd such as this.

  “And you must meet…” a woman was insisting at her side. And maybe Minnie had agreed because the woman was reaching out to boldly touch the shoulder of someone who had their back to the crowd, engaged in another circle of conversation.

  The face was familiar, but the person overall was changed. It took some time to register who the stranger was staring back at her.

  “We’ve met before.” Alex smiled and her heart stopped, as always.

  Minnie dropped a bracing hand down to her stomach and threw back the rest of the champagne, her hand too unsteady to pass it off to the waiter skirting by with a tray. It fell to the floor and shattered at her feet, but she was already rushing through the crowd to make her way outside.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Three years. Three. God damn. Miserable years.

  And she ran.

  The woman in front of him, some Mrs. Asherly or Ashber, looked offended to be brushed off, but Alex hadn’t come to Paris to please a room full of overdressed buffoons. The sole reason was running away from him, wrapped in yellow silk and looking like a dream. She had been a dream for a while now. He was hoping to bring that to an abrupt end.

  He chased after her because he had always done that, ignoring the shocked gasps as they made a spectacle of themselves across the Paris gallery.

  His hand grabbed above her elbow as she ran into the rain. “Please, don’t.” She froze at his touch. He had neglected to wear gloves that night. Feeling her skin under his was akin to a lightning bolt striking the lone tree in the field. Bright, burning, consuming.

  She looked as if she would rear back and bite him, her eyes full of anger. But her body relaxed a little under the falling rain before he guided her back inside. Alex dragged her into the first empty room he could find and slammed the door shut.

  Minnie backed away, standing in the middle of the room. She rose and fell in his horizon as he struggled to catch his breath. The rain slashing at the window was the only sound between them.

  “Don’t you recognize—” He ducked as she threw the vase from the table at him. The china shattered, raining down the door. Alex brushed the broken bits from his shoulders. “—your own husband?”

  Her skin still wet, Minnie glowed in the dim room, even as her head hung low and her shoulders rose and fell on staggered breaths. “What do you want?” she asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She folded into herself, unable meet him in the eyes.

  His fingers tapped against the back of the door as he tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come as he sipped in the beautiful sight of her in the same room. He had fought hard for this moment and she had cried off as if he were some monster. He might not be a monster, but certainly felt like a cad for surprising her. He hadn’t been able to bring himself to call on her that afternoon when he arrived in Paris. Nerves or some such. Probably the same ones that coursed through him now.

  The room filled up with quiet, the tension rising and rising like a summer thundercloud. He exhaled and pushed off the door.

  “Alex.”

  He was a little relieved after having seen her so ruffled. Let her be angry; at least he would know she hadn’t lost her fight. “I’ll be brief,” he said, somehow walking past her without wrapping her in his arms. He stopped in front of the window, watching the carriages pass on the streets below. “I’ve a business proposition.”

  “You could have sent a letter.”

  He ignored her anger. “There is a new play to debut in London, and a role meant solely for you.”

  “If that’s all,” she said, heading for the door, “excuse me.”

  As she stepped forward, it felt as if she had taken a step onto him, the air painfully crushed in his lungs.

  “No one could play the heroine like you.” He spoke to the unwelcome sight of her back.

  “I suppose you have some tiny theater lined up,” Minnie answered smartly, brushing her hands over her skirts. She spun around, holding her chin high.

  “Oh, you haven’t heard?” Alex crossed the room, stopping a few paces away. “I’m a big success now.”

  Her eyes shut tight. “How…lucky for you.”

  “There was no luck involved. I bled for my successes.” He stepped closer and Minnie held her breath. “You’ve been crying,” he whispered, closing the distance between them.

  “What do you want, Alex?”

  “Do you have enough pretty things now, darling?”

  The small laugh that escaped her painted mouth was ugly, heartless. “Yes, I do. Now if you’re finished—” She swayed as if she was going to skirt around him to the door, but rushed forward instead. Minnie shoved her hands into his chest, as he smiled down at her, trying to keep his patience in check. She raised her hand to slap him but he was too quick and grabbed her small wrist. She raised her other hand, except he trapped that one, too. He brought them to her side, their eyes locked on one another.

  “Paris has had its way with you.” His voice was just as ragged as her breath. “Come back to England.”

  “If your sole mission today was to convince me to leave, then you’ve wasted your time. There is no chance I’m returning to England. I’m a daughter of Paris now.”

  “Start over in England. You deserve true recognition.” She moved her hands again in an attempt to slap him, but his grip remained firm. “Minnie, you don’t need to be afraid.”

  “Let go of me.” Panic swelled in her weak whisper.

  “There will be a carriage waiting outside your apartment tomorrow morning at seven. I have arranged for passage.”

  “You’re always so sure of yourself.”

  He drew her closer. She smelled of champagne and tuberose and the best years of his life. “I haven’t seen you in three years.” And that was what they had always excelled at—masters of the unspoken. It wasn’t simply that he had been gone for three years, but a mess of guilt and blame. “No,” she said firmly. “Find another.”

  He raised an eyebrow as he loosened his grip on her wrists. When she didn’t fight him, he pulled her right wrist close. “This has been upsetting you all night. Let me see.”

  Alex focused on the bent bracelet clasp, even when he heard her sm
all surprised gasp. He squeezed at the soft metal until it stayed shut, then righted the bracelet. Diamonds. She deserved to be dripping in them without having to offer up part of herself. “Have some faith.”

  Their eyes met for a moment, his request ringing in his ears as silence consumed them once more.

  Minnie fingered the faceted diamond filigree with a pinched brow. “I don’t need rescuing,” she whispered, but there was no conviction left in her voice.

  “No,” he whispered back, his mouth brushing the tip of her nose, the rainwater wetting his lips.

  “I don’t need you to rescue me. I don’t, Alex.” Her voice trembled. “Alex?”

  He never knew silence could feel so heavy, but it was, an impossible weight bearing down on him as he remained frozen. “I’m right here, Min.”

  She moved her mouth to his and lightly sucked his bottom lip, pulling a low rumble from his throat. The tentativeness melted between them, the years all but erased as their mouths moved faster, deepening their kiss to match their hunger for each other. Alex trailed sweet kisses over her nose, cheeks, and down her throat. A soft moan escaped Minnie as his hand traced the line of her shoulder, still wet from the rain, before his fingers wiped away the water in a quick stroke.

  Another sigh at that, encouraging him to gather her body against his, but a knock sounded at the door and she stepped away in haste, breaking the fragile connection they shared.

  “Come in,” she ordered, watching Alex with such scared eyes.

  The maid stuck her head into the room, flushed with embarrassment. “So sorry,” she whispered, before ducking back out.

  “Are we finished?” she asked, staring down at her bracelet once more.

  Try as she might to persuade him otherwise, they were in fact, not through. “Consider my offer, Minnie.”

  “Best of luck to you and your play.” She walked to the window, keeping her back turned, shutting him out once more.

  “I’ll be waiting at seven.”

  Minnie might have said something. She always did favor having the last word, but he had already passed through the door, having no desire to listen to lies. He walked back to his hotel in the rain, not caring that he was soaked upon arrival, because he had an honest smile playing at his lips for the first times in years.