Miss Watson's First Scandal (A Miss Mayhem Novella)

by Heather Boyd

  After a painfully long silence, David cleared his throat. “Miss Watson,” he began. But then he cleared his throat again and started over. “Miss Watson, do not believe actions of that kind will sway me from carrying out my duties should your brother not marry after all. You will only hurt your pride and likely ruin your reputation in the process.”

  Abigail pressed her hands to her face as his words drove home how unaffected he was by her first kiss. Of all the foolish things to have done this might have been her finest folly. She may never be able to look at him without blushing again.

  After a time, he patted her shoulder. “I know these are troubling times. You’re confused and grateful for the reprieve I’ve given, but flirting with me will not help in the end. Watson must marry a woman of wealth, or you must both leave the property by month’s end.”

  She nodded. “I understand.”

  “We will not speak of this matter again, or to Watson about the theft. May I have my letter returned to me?”

  Abigail drew the papers from her pocket and held the envelope out. Her hand shook as David took it from her and slipped it into his own pocket. “You’d best return indoors.” His tone had gentled to a soft rumble, exactly how he had been all her life. All trace of his anger and disappointment had vanished.

  She looked up at him. David was normally a civilized, reserved man, the sort you compared others to and found them wanting. Her stomach tumbled with uncertainty, her throat closed as she wished she’d done a better job of kissing him the first time. It had been her first after all, but she hadn’t planned it well enough. It wasn’t exactly the kind dreams were made of. She certainly hadn’t done it to sway him from his plans.

  He tilted his head to the side, silently observing her. Her stomach tumbled again and warmth filled her chest. David was so very handsome in his impeccable London fashions. Glossy black boots, tight fitting black trousers, and burgundy striped waistcoat, beneath a black coat. He had always drawn her eye and she felt surprisingly safe whilst alone in his company. Despite the circumstances, she was pleased he had followed after her tonight rather than confront her brother about her behavior. Now that he wasn’t angry could she claim a proper kiss—just for practice of course—without David speaking of it, too?

  Bravely, she caught the lapels of his elegant coat. The wool was smooth against her bare fingers and she pulled him down to her level, as she had once seen a woman do on the seashore with her beau, and pressed her lips against his firmly. For a moment, David froze and she feared he would draw away again. But then he skimmed her mouth with his in a delicate dance that took her breath away. He cradled her face gently with a hand as his lips molded hers to his purpose, sucking at her lips each time they parted. She sighed at how lovely he was being about indulging her. She hadn’t even had to ask.

  His tongue fluttered across her lips and she leaned into him.

  Unfortunately, David drew back at that moment and she almost fell at his feet. He regarded her warily, his breathing rough and loud in the night. “Did you not listen to me?”

  Her body hummed with delightful tremors, and Abigail nodded as she set her hand to the gate to support herself. “Gracious! Kissing can make the heart race, can’t it?” she whispered, pressing her fingers to her lips. “I listened. But thank heavens I ignored what you said.”

  He folded his arms over his chest, his expression stern. “I do not like the game you are playing, Miss Watson. You will only be disappointed. This business will not go away because of a few rash kisses bestowed.”

  Abigail lowered her fingers. She might have enjoyed kissing David, but he didn’t appear at all pleased. She sighed, disappointed not to have made a better impression. “Mr. Hawke, I had no sinister motives in kissing you. It was my first, but since you appear to dislike kissing me, I’ll not continue. I shall say goodnight to you. My curiosity has been satisfied about kissing—at least for now.”

  She shut the gate behind her and cast a quick glance in his direction. In the moonlight, he looked infinitely more dangerous than the crusty bachelor he claimed to be. To Abigail’s way of thinking, the gate wouldn’t prove much of a barrier should he wish to launch himself over it. Her heart fluttered at the idea.

  “First?” He stepped up to the gate and clenched the top. “Miss Watson, I fear my own curiosity has not fared so well in the exchange. Do not tempt me further.”

  She set her hand to her hip boldly. “Or what?”

  He smiled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

  He disappeared in the blink of an eye, leaving Abigail with the rush of exhilaration coursing through her veins and a burning curiosity to know what it would take to tempt him into another kiss.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The cool brine of the channel supported David as he floated with the calm waves in the early morning light. This was what he’d missed most while living in London. There, he never had more than a copper tub of water to submerge in and it lacked the slight itch of salt on his skin. He scrubbed his hands over his arms, enjoying the way his skin tingled.

  Around him, his friends employed their own style of sea bathing, but Walter George was certainly a distraction. Despite Valentine’s assurance last night that Walter’s swimming had improved, their youngest companion had sputtered a great deal at the edge of their swimming party. David had been at the point of suggesting he go ashore when everyone else stilled to float along with the current.

  The first to leave the water was Valentine. He never stayed in long, preferring to rush his dip and then hurry back out again. Given the hours Val kept with his study of the constellations, he’d be keen to return to bed so he would be fresher for the evening’s celestial studies.

  Walter George followed him, grasping for a length of towel as soon as his feet hit the sand. He covered his less-than-muscular physique quickly. Modesty among men tended to slip at the seaside. David liked to dry off naked in the sun and gain a bit of color. Today his skin seemed pasty white in comparison to the others who had been swimming here every day for the past month. It had been a long time since he had been so active or outside for so long and he was feeling slightly unsteady.

  He flipped over and made his way ashore, stumbling a little as his feet readjusted to walking on the sea floor. He had grown soft in London. Brighton would toughen him up. It always did. He sat next to his clothes, a few feet from where Valentine lazed, sunning himself, and wiped his face dry. “Beautiful morning.”

  “Beautiful evening, too.” Val dragged his gaze from the sunlit heavens. “I saw a surprising new constellation last night. One I never imagined to see.”

  David grinned. “That’s wonderful. But if you’ve made a discovery why have you not shouted it for all to hear this morning? You must tell everyone.”

  Valentine scowled. “It wasn’t that kind of constellation. Not the kind that thrills my blood. I could have sworn I saw the shape of a Hawke swooping on tender prey. I thought better of you, old man.”

  David stilled. Had his friend seen those rash kisses between him and Miss Watson? Val’s scowl convinced David he had.

  “It was a mistake and will not happen again,” David quickly assured him.

  Valentine lifted his gaze to the heavens and sighed. “If it does, I will expect to hear a suitably grand announcement and to receive an invitation to the wedding. Lips do not usually connect so accidentally. She’s a good girl, or has been until now. I would hate to see her heart broken when you disappear back to London.”

  Guilt made David squirm. He’d spent many hours since last night debating the wisdom of having allowed the second kiss from Miss Watson. Sadly, he couldn’t erase the memory of her from his mind. Saying Abigail had been enthusiastic had been a vast understatement. He’d never experienced such a sweet, soul-consuming kiss. He’d quite forgotten himself in the rush of discovery. She’d surprised him with her flirtatious comments, too. She wasn’t the girl next door he knew or expected to speak with.

  Despite those imprudent kisses, he shou
ldn’t, couldn’t offer for her. She was too young. Far too young for an old man like him, and his business with her brother would set them at odds. It could not be halted by any sort of attachment developing between them. He was a fool to even entertain the brief fantasy.

  Regardless of still being wet, David threw his shirt over his head, raked his fingers through his hair, and gazed out at the shapes bobbing with the waves. Peter Watson had drifted further out than usual, effectively avoiding any possibility of conversation. David hadn’t really wanted to spoil the morning with bank business himself, but he couldn’t put it off indefinitely. They would have to talk, and Peter would be made to listen in the end.

  He dressed, thinking over how to begin the discussion. He didn’t hold out much hope to remain friends after this. But he did hope not to become bitter enemies.

  Val slapped his shoulder. “Must have been some kiss.”

  “Beg your pardon?”

  “That kiss last night. You’ve not been yourself all morning. Are you in love with the girl?”

  “Not at all.” But he did feel oddly protective of her. Despite how it looked, he didn’t want Val to misunderstand the situation. David had confided in Val before when he’d been faced with a troubling situation, and frankly, he could use an impartial opinion. He moved closer to his friend so he couldn’t be overheard. “I can explain. By chance I spotted Miss Watson rush out her back gate late last night. I was concerned because she was unattended. I knew Watson had you all for company and likely wouldn’t notice she had left the house. I followed her up the laneway, and she called on Miss George. Rather than leave, I waited until she came back out.”

  Val set his hands on his hips, his expression amused. “And just how did the kiss come about? You tripped and your lips stuck together?”

  David still couldn’t work out that part. But it appeared Val didn’t know there had been two and he wasn’t going to ask which one he’d seen if he could avoid it. “This is rather embarrassing. Apparently, the lady wanted her very first kiss to be from someone she knew. I swear I have been nothing but respectful with her and will continue to be so.”

  Val frowned. “You called at the Watson’s first last night before you even crossed your own threshold. Why?”

  “I had some business to take care of with Watson. Since he had guests, that business is still outstanding and preys on my mind today, not the kiss with Miss Watson. I have no designs on his sister. None at all.”

  It was only half true. He might think about the sweetness of her lips, but he wouldn’t act on those thoughts. Yet, it did feel very good to confide in someone he could trust not to spread harmful gossip about Miss Watson.

  Val chuckled and broke the comfortable silence. “So, is she the first of the young ladies to throw herself at you? They’re all on the hunt for a husband now and think we’re easy targets for practicing upon. You’ll grow used to it by the end of the week and learn to move quicker unless you wish to be trapped. Were you really surprised?”

  He drew in a deep breath as his tension dissipated. He wasn’t the only one to stumble into such a situation and come out utterly befuddled by the experience. “Could have knocked me down with a feather.”

  “It shouldn’t have. They’re all testing their wings these days so be careful. You’re wealthy, not too bad looking, and probably considered quite a catch.”

  David punched Val’s arm.

  “All joking aside, even Miss Radley is fluttering her lashes at the oddest moments,” Val continued. “Once, she did it so often I thought she had a spec of dirt in her eye and asked her if she required aid. The look I got could have made me a eunuch. But out of all the fellows in Brighton, you’re possibly the one man Miss Watson is most comfortable around so be cautious of her unless you wish for a shackle about your leg.”

  A warm glow built in David’s chest but he quickly repressed the sensation. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m too old for her.”

  “You were always coming to her rescue when she was small.” Val chuckled. “Remember the time she followed us to the seashore one morning? Everyone except you had their trousers about their knees or off before we realized she’d watched us disrobe.”

  “Please don’t remind me.” David covered his face at the memory. “Her questions on the way home burned my ears. I have always hoped she wouldn’t remember seeing your skinny backside disappearing into the waves.”

  Valentine punched his arm. “Well, she’s seen all of us and not done a thing about it. There is just your backside to satisfy her curiosity about.”

  “That isn’t likely to happen.”

  Valentine stopped suddenly. “Do you know how many proposals of marriage she’s turned down? Three. She’s getting a reputation for breaking hearts.”

  David’s mind grasped onto the idea. A speedy marriage for Miss Watson would solve one half of the problem. She’d be spared the pain of eviction and have a home of her own to go to. “Why did she refuse her suitors?”

  “Who knows why women do anything. What I thought were perfectly sane, intelligent young ladies two years ago have turned into simpering and fluttering creatures while our backs were turned.” Val shuddered. “I warn you, Brighton has become a dangerous playground for the unwary gentleman.”

  “Miss Watson doesn’t simper or flutter. She’s rather direct actually.” David’s face heated. His defense of her indicated he had given Abigail considerable thought. He avoided meeting Val’s gaze. “She mentioned overdressed young men in London with a great deal of distain. I am surprised to find her unattached after her time in London. She should have done well.”

  Val glanced at his clothing and grinned. “If she has no care for fashion then perhaps I might just prove good enough to be acceptable, even with my skinny backside.”

  David regarded his friend, a sense of discomfort prickling along his spine. Valentine would be considered a good catch, not wealthy but well off, only somewhat eccentric with his nightly stargazing habits. It was probably time he considered taking a wife.

  They stopped in front of Valentine’s home. If David could encourage a match between Valentine and Miss Watson then he might not feel so dispirited about what he had to do. However, he wouldn’t like to force two people together when there was an inequality of feeling. “A man should never propose unless he means to change his life, but Miss Watson is sensible and could be good for you. She’d be worth the expense.”

  “So says the banker,” Valentine intoned. “I am amazed such sentimentality and romantic notions run through your head.”

  David rolled his eyes. “You may laugh at me now, but I’ve had my share of gentlemen clients bitterly complain about the expense of family, and particularly wives who married them for position and money rather than affection. Romantic or not, marriage is not a decision to rush into.”

  “The expense of a wife shouldn’t be a problem for you then, would it? You may be as romantic as you please and choose from any number of lovely ladies. However, your situation is unique. You have no family to appease when making the decision on who to wed.” Valentine sighed dramatically. “I must gain approval from three women before even contemplating such a decision. It must be nice to come and go at your leisure without having someone to answer to if you are tardy, messy or absent altogether. I’m not keen to add another lady to my household.”

  “Neither am I,” David said but as he spoke he acknowledged to himself that he wasn’t being entirely truthful.

  Valentine glanced sideways at him. “Your business is doing well, I trust?”

  “Yes, business is booming. A family would never understand the demands of my work,” he muttered the last softly. In a sense, it was good he had not married. If he had, he’d likely endure years of discord because of his devotion to work.

  “Well, you shan’t ever know for sure until you have a family of your own,” Valentine warned sagely. Valentine said his goodbyes, reminding him of the Radley dinner tonight, and David walked up the street alone. He glanced at
the Watson’s front window as he passed by. The curtain twitched, and his pulse tripled. Yet he did not want to give Miss Watson further encouragement so he hurried to his own door and closed it swiftly behind him. He would keep a greater distance from Miss Watson, deal only with her brother from now on, and ensure he was never in a position to kiss her again.

  He climbed the stairs for his bedchamber in order to wash and change for the day. Once there, he peeled his clothes from his body and sat on the edge of the bed. Bone deep tiredness tugged at his limbs and his eyes stung. He rubbed at them impatiently. He had much to do and couldn’t indulge in the luxury of returning to slumber, but the soft familiar feather bed cradled him with such comfort that he rolled onto his side and pulled the covers over his head.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Abigail allowed the parlor curtain to fall back into place with a heavy sigh as night descended on another perfect Brighton day. David Hawke had not reappeared since this morning. His front door remained stubbornly closed despite her wish to see him and have the notice calling in the debt delivered to Peter.

  She glanced to where her brother paced, hands restlessly shuffling cards, making them dance in the air as he performed tricks. Peter, too, had been surreptitiously peeking out onto Cavendish Place all day, but not even he had mentioned what time David was expected to call. She couldn’t believe David had changed his mind about delivering the letter. Once he made a decision, he stuck to it. It was one of the things Abigail admired about him.

  Once her brother had the notice, and was suitably desperate about the situation, Abigail would broach the subject of a union with Miss Merton as a solution to eviction and debtor’s prison. Surely Peter would see the logic of the match and fall in with her plans for him to marry. There really was no other choice.

  Peter’s pocket watch clicked as he snapped it closed. “Well, it’s time we stepped out. Are you ready, little sister?”