A Scandal In the Making

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  "Then I leave Miss Grove in your capable hands, your grace." With that, Evan turned and pushed his way back through the crush of people in the general direction of the gaming room. Cassandra had to admit that he did cut a rather dashing figure, especially given the way so many sets of feminine eyes followed his path across the ballroom.

  "Your Lord Berkshire is quite the gentleman," the duchess remarked once Evan was gone.

  "He is not my anything," Cassandra replied quickly. "Well, other than my guardian, I suppose," she amended quickly. "There is nothing between us."

  Abby gave Cassandra a long look. "As you say," she finally agreed as she tucked Cassandra's hand into hers and began to lead her over to where a group of women was all chatting and laughing merrily. "In the meantime, let me introduce you to some of my friends. For me, this is the fun part of being a duchess. I can do as I please and there is really no one to stop me."

  "But you do not know me," Cassandra protested, surprised at Lady Hathaway's familiarity. "At least not really."

  Pausing for a moment, Abby pulled Cassandra aside to allow a footman with a tray full of claret to pass. "Perhaps not and that is my fault. We talked only briefly at Lord Enwright's last summer and during the Little Season, Adam and I were occupied with other concerns."

  "The babe and the wedding of your sister in law." Cassandra nodded. "May I offer you congratulations on both counts? I had forgotten."

  "Sophia is blissfully happy, I am pleased to say, and little Thomas is fine, thank you. He is also the reason neither my husband nor I will be here long, though we did wish to make an appearance." There was a contentedness about Abby that Cassandra envied. "Still, despite everything, we should have made an attempt earlier to get to know you better. You are of Adam's blood and mine by marriage. That makes you family."

  Cassandra nodded in understanding. "Thank you, and I offer my apologies as well. I could have made an effort, too. I knew that you and Lord Hathaway were of my blood. Aunt Louisa and I could have called upon you. Carriages do not only drive one way."

  "That they do not," Abby agreed cheerfully. "So we are agreed to move forward?"

  "We are." In fact, Cassandra could think of nothing more that she would like better. Not to mention that Lady Hathaway might also be helpful in Cassandra's husband hunt when the time came.

  The two women were about to continue on towards Abby's circle of friends when a dark shadow seemed to spring up out of nowhere before them.

  "Your grace." The shadow - which was actually a rather large and beefy man - bowed low, though not nearly as elegantly as Evan had done moments before. "Your beauty steals my breath."

  Instantly, Cassandra did not care for this man and from the hard press of Abby's lips, neither did the duchess. "Mr. Follett. I was unaware that you would be in attendance this evening."

  Or that you were even invited. Lady Hathaway's unspoken words seemed to hang between them.

  He smiled then, though in Cassandra's opinion it was more of a greasy and ingratiating smile than a sincere one. "When one receives an invitation to an event as fine and glittering as this one, how can one refuse?" Cassandra had to wonder if he had received his invitation honestly or if he had finagled one in some underhanded fashion. She greatly suspected the latter for he did not seem the sort that Lord and Lady Radcliffe would associate with for any reason.

  "How can one, indeed?" Though Cassandra didn't know Abby very well, this was a side of the woman she had never seen. This woman was frosty and intimidating and everything that a proper duchess should be when faced with a distasteful situation. "If you will excuse us, however, we were just on our way to the retiring room. We are in a bit of a rush if you don't mind."

  Follett smiled again, this time turning his gray gaze directly onto Cassandra and immediately, she felt the need for a hot bath and some strong soap to scrub herself clean. The man was utterly distasteful. "Not before you introduce me to this utterly enchanting creature." He bowed low before Cassandra and reached for her hand before obviously thinking better of the gesture. "She is perfection incarnate."

  Abby's back stiffened and she made some sort of odd snapping motion with her fingers. "Mr. Follett, may I introduce Miss Cassandra Grove. She is my cousin and the current ward of the Marquess of Berkshire." She paused and tilted her head. "Though I am certain you already know that, don't you?" The duchess was being almost rude but she didn't seem to care. Her obvious dislike of this man seemed to supplant almost everything else including social niceties.

  Follett's eyes darkened and Cassandra had to fight the urge to back away from him. "I knew of the lady, true, but I had never been graced with the delightful opportunity to make her acquaintance." His lips tipped up in what he likely believed to be a seductive grin but was really more of a predatory smile. "Miss Grove. I am utterly enchanted. Truly."

  "Mr. Follett." Cassandra did her best to adopt Abby's frosty mannerisms. "It is a pleasure to meet you."

  His gaze strayed to the dance card dangling about Cassandra's wrist. She had all but forgotten it since she rarely danced, even a country dance, and had taken the card out of politeness more so than anything else. "May I claim a dance?" He quirked an eyebrow at her, one that made her long for that bar of soap again. "Or perhaps two? Might I even dare hope for a waltz?"

  "No, you may not!" Abby snapped, now the ultimate icy and unforgiving duchess. "Though I am not officially her guardian, I am her family and her voucher from Almack's has not yet arrived! There will be no waltz!" That was a blatant lie, but Cassandra wasn't about to correct her newfound friend. "I also know that Lord Berkshire is very careful about the men he allows to dance with his ward. If you seek a dance with Miss Grove, you must appeal directly to him. Until then, I must stand in his stead and deny your request. I am sorry." Except that Abby didn't sound sorry in the least and for that, Cassandra was extremely grateful.

  Follett raised his hands. "Forgive me, your grace. I meant no harm." Still, as he said those words, his eyes perused the lines of Cassandra's body, and she had to fight the urge to simply turn and flee. She did not like this man in the least. "I was simply overcome by Miss Grove's beauty and I forgot myself. I beg forgiveness and if I may, I would like to beg for a turn about the room with Miss Grove to prove that I am honorable in my intentions."

  "Ladies." Another shadow darkened the floor in front of Cassandra and she looked up to see a man leaning heavily on a cane, though he looked strong enough to take on the far slighter Follett with relative ease. "Is there a problem?" This man had thick, honey-blonde hair and arresting turquoise blue eyes and she was certain she had seen him somewhere before.

  "Lord Underhill! It has been ages, has it not?" Suddenly, Abby brightened and practically attached herself to the man's side like a burr.

  The new man bowed as low as his obvious injury would allow, his earlier question now forgotten. "It has, your grace." Then he turned to Cassandra with warm, friendly eyes and she immediately understood that this man was a friend. She might not know him, but he would watch out for her and have a care for her safety. "And Miss Grove. A pleasure, as always. It has been far too long."

  Suddenly, a memory clicked into place and Cassandra remembered meeting Lord Francis Deaver, the current Viscount Underhill, at Lord Enwright's house party the previous summer. He had been one of the men that Evan had conversed with frequently and now counted as a true friend. Therefore, if Evan trusted him, then so could she.

  Cassandra nodded and offered the viscount her hand. "Since last summer, I fear, my lord, and that is entirely too long. Lord Berkshire and I did not stay in London long during the Little Season and when we were in town, we did not go out much due to my unfortunate illness." She offered him a sunny smile. "How is your sister, Lady Candlewood? And the babe? I trust the entire family is well?" She remembered that Underhill's sister, Eliza, was now the duchess to the Bloody Duke of Candlewood.

  Underhill cast a mischievous eye towards Follett as if he wished to nettle the unsavory man a bit. "Sh
e is as strong and resilient as always and her son is much the same." He chuckled. "As for the Bloody Duke? Well, you might think that becoming a new father would mellow Candlewood a bit, but rest assured, he is still blood-thirsty as ever, I fear."

  Unsurprisingly, Follett went a bit pale. "Did you say the Bloody Duke?"

  "Why yes." Underhill looked surprised, though Cassandra was certain it was all an act. Yes, she liked this man quite a bit. "Did you not know that we are all friends?"

  "Of course." Follett cleared his throat, eager to correct his mistake. "I had momentarily forgotten." Then he made an odd sort of gesture over one shoulder. "If you will excuse me? I see an old friend that I really must greet. Would not want to be accused of bad manners." Then when a few more clumsy words and a partial bow or two, Follett practically scampered back across the ballroom and in the general direction of the door.

  Once he was gone, Abby let out a long breath and then turned to Underhill. "Thank you, my lord. The man is a fortune hunter of the worst sort, I fear."

  "You know him?" Cassandra asked, surprised.

  Underhill nodded. "Most in Society do, though I suspect that you do not simply because Lord Berkshire did his best to shield you from the man for many reasons. He is Mr. Roger Follett, the man who long believed that he, and not Lord Haddington, would be the next Marquess of Berkshire."

  "When Evan finally appeared to claim the title last spring, Follett was enraged," Abby continued. "I was not as out as much in Society then as I am now, but even so, word of Follett traveled fast among all circles of the ton. He is angry that he did not inherit, even though the previous marquess was only a second uncle to him and only then by marriage. Unlike Lord Haddington who is a nephew by blood."

  Cassandra did her best not to shiver. "I do not care for the man."

  "I should hope not!" Turning, she was surprised to see Evan had appeared behind her. "Underhill. Lady Hathaway. Thank you for taking care of Miss Grove in my absence."

  "Our pleasure." That came from the viscount. "Just be warned, Berkshire. Follett is on the hunt again and this time, I fear he has his sights set a bit higher than a baron's timid daughter." He nodded in Cassandra's direction.

  Then, Abby surprised Cassandra by reaching out and squeezing her hand. "I shall call upon you tomorrow. We can take tea and share...important information."

  "I would like that, your grace. Thank you." Cassandra didn't even need to look at Evan to know that he approved. She could feel the slight pressure of his hand on her lower back. It was not much of a touch but enough to let her know that he thought the call would be a splendid idea.

  Abby nodded. "I shall see you then." Then she looked over Cassandra's head to where Evan still stood. "And your plans for tomorrow night?"

  "We will be attending the Weston ball," Evan supplied easily. "Might as well start the new year off with a bit of scandal, eh?"

  "Indeed," Abby replied serenely. "An American Marquess. I cannot fathom it. Then again, who could have ever pictured me a duchess? My husband and I shall see you both there, my lord. Your aunt, as well." Then she turned to the viscount. "Lord Underhill? Shall we go find my rogue of a husband?"

  "I would be delighted to help you locate him, your grace." That same teasing tone was back in the viscount's voice once more and he seemed only too happy to lead Abby away and back towards the small cluster of people where a man that Cassandra recognized as the Duke of Hathaway clearly waited for his wife with adoring eyes.

  "Remind me to send Underhill some brandy and Lady Hathaway flowers on the 'morrow," Evan sighed as he took Cassandra's arm and began to lead her out of the ballroom. "I am in their debt for keeping you safe."

  Cassandra remained silent until they were both well away from the ballroom's numerous ears before speaking. "I do not think I was in any danger, Evan." She gestured around her. "After all, I was surrounded by people."

  He shook his head and when he saw a passing footman, requested that their wraps be brought immediately. "You do not know Follett. He is a dangerous man. He craves the marquisate like an opium addict craves more of the drug and he will stop at nothing to obtain what he feels is rightly his."

  "Through me?" Cassandra was incredulous. "How is that even possible?"

  "That damnable will," Evan ground out. "I have no idea what is even contained within the bloody thing or how I might be tripped up by my uncle's wiles from beyond the grave. This is why I need to wed with all due haste, Cassandra. I do not have full control of Berkshire and will not until I wed. In the meantime? I have no idea what sort of loopholes and tricks are in that document that might cost me - all of us really - everything that we have. I had vowed not to speak of this with you for fear that doing so would violate some unknown clause, but now I think that it best that you know the truth of it all."

  She was silent again for a long moment. "Could a man simply courting me do that? Cost you everything, I mean?"

  Evan looked as if he was in a great deal of pain. "Possibly, yes," he finally admitted. "I have no bloody idea what quirk of the will I might fall afoul of on any given day. That is why I have been so careful in my dealings with the marquisate, why I clear everything with Franklin before I proceed. I do not know what action might do more harm than good. My uncle was a madman determined to control everything he could even in death, and there is a part of me that worries his machinations extend to you too."

  "I see." Truthfully, Cassandra did. Even Aunt Louisa had hinted that the old marquess had some sort of plan in mind for Cassandra before he died, even though no one could say for certain what sort of plan it had been. Now that the man was gone, no one likely ever would. Unless, of course, Evan somehow lost the marquisate, which now sounded very possible.

  "I know you do." Evan looked at her now with those intense green-gray eyes of his. It wasn't lost on her that Follett's eyes had the same partial grayish shade that Evan's did, indicating their similar - but not identical - bloodlines. "Which is why I had hoped to begin my search for a wife tonight, but now, Aunt Louisa is rather foxed after playing only a few hands of cards with that rogue, Lord Drayton and is having trouble walking. Lord Hunt and Lord Raynecourt are depositing her in the carriage as we speak. Then I find you all but cornered by Follett? Let us just say that this evening did not go according to my plans."

  Cassandra hated the drawn expression on Evan's face, especially knowing that she had contributed to it being there. "I will be more careful in the future, Evan. I promise. I had no idea who that man was. Or about the will." The last thing she wanted to do was bring him any more grief. Despite their disagreements, this man had been good to her, far more than he was required to be, even under the terms of his uncle's will.

  Evan smiled grimly. "I know, Cassie. It's not your fault." He squeezed her hand, resulting in the pressure between her breasts increasing once more. "All will be well. I promise."

  However as a servant brought their wraps and Evan helped her into her warm cloak, Cassandra had to wonder if her guardian had just made her a promise that he could not keep.

  Chapter Five

  A little less than twenty-four hours later, Cassandra was staring up at the facade of yet another London town home, wondering how she had come to be here and whether or not her life from this point on would be nothing but a series of endless balls, social functions, and shopping. Well, she didn't mind the shopping part so much, she supposed. Especially not when in the company of her new friend Abby, the not-at-all-proper Duchess of Hathaway.

  As promised, earlier that day a coach bearing the Hathaway ducal crest had rolled up to the front of Berkshire House, delivering Abby to Cassandra's front door. They had shared an enjoyable tea time together and Cassandra found that she truly enjoyed the duchess' company. They had only just begun to gossip when a messenger brought a letter to Abby, reminding the duchess that she had an appointment with a few of her friends to review fashion plates at Madame LaVallier's that afternoon. It had been sent by the duke who somehow knew that his wife had forgotte
n the appointment and wanted to make certain she didn't miss it since the much-sought-after dressmaker was notorious for having few openings in her schedule.

  Cassandra had assumed that she would bid Abby a good day and then retire to her rooms to rest before the Weston ball later that evening. To her surprise, however, Abby had insisted that Cassandra join her and her other friends at the dressmaker's shop. At first, Cassandra had hesitated, not wanting to intrude but a gentle push from Aunt Louisa - who was slow to rise that morning due to all of the alcohol she had consumed the night before - soon found Cassandra out the door and into the ducal carriage with her new friend.

  From there, the rest of the day had been something of a blur. She and Abby had spent several hours at Madame's shop, taking tea, picking out new gowns to have made - something that Cassandra knew well Evan did not believe she did enough of anyway - and making an entire circle of new friends, including the Marchioness of Hallstone, Viscountess Chillton, the Countess of Raynecourt, and a host of other well-bred Society ladies who were wed to wealthy and important lords of the realm. In fact, Cassandra had met so many new people that she could scarcely keep track of them all.

  However, the afternoon had been enjoyable and she had ordered three new day dresses as well as two new evening gowns and a new cape. She had also been a bit in awe of the other women in her company, at least at first. Then, however, she had come to realize that, though they had, for the most part, been born to lofty titles, they were really little different than she was beneath all of the social polish. By the time Abby deposited Cassandra back at Berkshire House, she felt as if she had finally made a few new friends, women that she genuinely liked and admired.

  Unfortunately, she had also lost track of time so when she finally did return home, it was well past the time she had planned to begin preparing for the Weston ball. It was only with the assistance of a veritable army of servants - something Cassandra was not accustomed to in the least - that she was now standing in front of the Weston town home on Evan's arm looking like a proper lady and not a street urchin or flower seller. It had helped that Aunt Louisa, still a bit ill from the night before, had decided to skip the affair so there was only one lady in the Berkshire household for the staff to dress.