Scandalous Love

by Brenda Joyce

  “Please shut the doors.”

  Nicole looked from her father, standing in front of his desk, to her mother, seated on the sofa. She closed the mahogany doors behind her. “Have I done something I don’t know about?” She tried to smile.

  Neither one of her parents smiled back. Her father was very grim. The feeling of dread rose again, washing over her. Especially when her mother got to her feet and came to her, looking so terribly anxious. “Oh, dear,” Jane said softly.

  “What is it?” Nicole asked.

  “The Duke of Clayborough was here today,” Nicholas said. “He has asked for your hand and I have agreed.”

  For an instant, Nicole thought that her father was referring to Hadrian’s visit when he had proposed to her in the parlor. It took her a moment to comprehend just what he had said. The Duke had returned to Tavistock Square after that and gone directly to her father with his suit. “What?”

  “Our lawyers are meeting tomorrow morning.”

  “No!” she cried violently. “I won’t marry him!”

  Jane’s grip tightened on her arm, but before she could speak, Nicholas was striding toward her. “I believe that you have no choice.”

  Nicole froze, pinned by the look in her father’s eyes. He knew. Hadrian had told him. She moaned.

  “It’s a little late for regrets,” he said, staring at her. “And because of the possibility that you are with child, you shall be wed the second Sunday from today.”

  “I’ll kill him,” Nicole cried.

  “There will be no crying off, Nicole. If you were so set against marriage to Hadrian, you should have considered that before allowing him to take you to bed.”

  Nicole spun out of her mother’s grasp and rushed to the window, trying to get a grip on her hysteria. She was furious, furious with Hadrian for going to her father and telling him all, not only humiliating her but insuring that Nicholas would accept his suit and accept it with resolve. She was also filled with panic.

  “Darling,” Jane said, breaking the terrible silence. “It cannot be so bad. Hadrian is a fine man. He will be a fine husband. And I know you have feelings for him. Even if you think you no longer love him, in time, I am certain your feelings will return.”

  Nicole whirled. “He loves another woman! He loves Elizabeth!”

  Jane and her father stared as the implications of her emotional outburst sank in. Jane came to her. “Elizabeth is dead.”

  “That makes it worse. Can’t you see? I could not have competed with her when she was alive, but now, now I will be forever haunted by her memory!”

  “You do love him,” Jane said softly, touching her daughter’s cheek.

  Nicole jerked away. “You ran away from father because you loved him! And that is precisely why I cannot marry Hadrian! Surely you. Mother, of all people, can understand!”

  “I was a fool,” Jane said. “The best thing that ever happened to me was your father finding me and forcing me to marry him.”

  Nicole’s jaw clamped into a hard line. “I am not marrying him. I am not.”

  Nicholas spoke, reminding them both that he was present. “I have accepted Hadrian’s offer and you will not change my mind. Or have you forgotten the possibility that you are pregnant?”

  Nicole winced at the blunt terminology.

  “Yes, Nicole, pregnant,” Nicholas said crudely. “I am not going to allow you to bear me a bastard grandson.”

  Tears filled her eyes. She had never known her father could be so cruel. “If we wait, maybe—”

  “No. Enough is enough. Apparently you love the man anyway. You—”

  “I don’t love him!” she shouted, and in that moment she did not. “I hate him!”

  “Regardless,” Nicholas said harshly. “My decision stands.”

  “Darling, it will work out,” Jane said consolingly.

  She was panting. Again she shook off her mother’s touch. “There will be a scandal. Father—I cannot bear another scandal.”

  “There will be no scandal. The Duke is prepared to take all the blame for your hasty marriage. He will make sure society thinks him a lovesick fool. No one will suspect the circumstances, or if they do, they will be in doubt.”

  “He is going to pretend to love me?” She could not bear it!

  “He is protecting you from scandal,” Nicholas said.

  “You will force me—again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t you remember what happened the last time?”

  Her words hung in the air. Nicole instantly regretted them. Nicholas stared at her. “Are you threatening me, Nicole?”

  For the first time in her life she was afraid of her father, but she held her ground. “Don’t do this to me!”

  “I will not let you run away,” Nicholas said fiercely. “Not this time.”

  “You will have to tie me up and carry me to the altar!”

  “If you wish to create the scandal, so be it.”

  Nicole sucked in her breath. Jane cried out at her husband in protest. For Nicole it was just too much. There was no changing his mind. With a small sob she fled the room.

  Nicole was in a panic. Her father and the Duke of Clayborough were the two most powerful men she knew. If the two of them had decided that she was to wed Hadrian, then it would happen. She had caught her father by surprise the last time by running away at the last moment. In truth, she was ashamed of what she had done—but she had had no choice. She would never regret running away from Percy Hempstead. Yet she had never fought against that marriage the way she would fight against this one. And this time her father was forewarned. Nicole shuddered. He had meant it when he had said he would not let her run away—he had implied he would tie her up and carry her to the altar if need be! He was so set upon her marrying Hadrian that nothing was going to change his mind.

  She paced her room in a frenzy. Once her father had been her greatest ally, her best friend. How could he do something like this? How could he force her to marry against her will? It was as if she were chattel. As if she were a slave—to be sold to another human being at whim. Although other women were given no choice in marriage, although other women did not even expect to be given a choice, Nicole had not been raised like other women. She had always had a shocking degree of freedom. Nicholas had not raised her to be a mindless and dainty porcelain doll set upon a pedestal. She had not been raised to be an ornamental wife and nothing more. He had approved of her knowledge of farming and breeding and mathematics, he had approved of her unconventional education; indeed, he had always been interested in her opinion on matters ranging from Dragmore to politics. And he hadn’t cared less about how she dressed when she was at Dragmore with the family. He had thought her breeches most sensible for riding. He had certainly agreed with her that painting watercolors when one had no talent and singing when one had no voice were silly and useless pursuits, much to Nicole’s relief. He had been proud of her unusual achievements and her intellect.

  Yet now, now he did not care how she felt. He was marrying her off despite her deepest protests. He was making a decision about her and her life, changing it completely, against her will. He was no longer her greatest friend and ally. He was set against her. Hadrian had come between them—Hadrian had done this.

  Thinking about the Duke and what he had done enraged her. Nicole’s temper exploded. How dare he interfere in her life! How dare he ruin her relationship with her father!

  There was a soft rapping upon her door. Nicole recognized her mother’s knock and stiffened. She did not ask her to enter. Jane had taken her father’s side against her, and Nicole could not be forgiving.

  Jane entered anyway. Nicole turned her back on her. “Do not be mad at me, or at your father,” she said gently. “We love you so much. We only want the best for you.”

  “If you really loved me you would not force me to marry him.”

  “In time you will feel differently, and understand what we have done.”

  “I doubt it.”


  Jane hesitated, still speaking to her daughter’s back. “We are going to John’s. I will tell him that you are ill.”

  “Why? I am not sick—just mad!”

  “It’s better that you do not go,” Jane responded calmly. “Nicholas told me that the Duke was on John’s guest list. I doubt that he would be there, but if he should be, I think it best you do not meet until your temper has abated.”

  He was the last person Nicole wanted to see. “I heartily agree,” she gritted.

  Her mother left the room. A few moments later, Nicole went to the window and saw the Dragmore coach rolling down the drive and onto the street. She stared after it.

  The first thing that Nicole saw when she stepped into the red salon at John Lindley’s home was the Duke of Clayborough. The second thing she saw was Stacy Worthington.

  She had decided to come. Why should she sulk in her room? Maybe he would think she was avoiding him. He was the last person she was avoiding. In fact, she had a few things she would love to tell him.

  But she had not counted on this scenario.

  She took a sherry from a tray being passed around by a servant and sipped it quickly. Her heart was beating erratically. Stacy Worthington was flirting with Hadrian. Nicole could not take her eyes off of them.

  She laughed at everything he said. She pressed close to his side, gazing up at his face with a look of rapture. She appeared to devour his few words. She clung to him.

  Not that Nicole cared. She did not care. She did not care that yesterday she had been in Hadrian’s arms, that today he had proposed, and that they were supposedly engaged. If he wanted to make a fool of himself with another woman—a slender, beautiful woman—that was fine with her. In fact, maybe he would decide to make Stacy his wife! Nothing could suit her more!

  Who was she kidding?

  Nicole was upset, more upset than she had been all day. She realized she was staring at them, and finishing the sherry in a very unladylike manner, she turned away. Misery etched itself onto her heart.

  She looked around the crowded salon, wishing she had not come. She ignored her parents. She saw Regina laughing with Martha and her husband, and was glad to see that her best friend was present. She smiled at them from across the room. Then she became aware of how she was standing alone in the midst of all the chatting clusters of people. Suddenly she felt awkward, and she would have loved to join one of the groups, but she did not know anybody. She was aware, too, that the two ladies besides her were looking at her, although they were attempting to be discreet.

  Nicole’s stomach clenched, and for a moment she forgot about the Duke and Stacy. She had been out of the social whirl for years and she had only arrived in London recently, so she told herself that it was not surprising that these ladies would be interested in her. Yet whom was she fooling? She was still considered something of an oddity and an eccentric despite all the years that had passed since the scandal. Would it never change? Would she always be an outsider?

  She weaved her way toward the Serles and Regina. She was very careful not to even glance at the Duke. But the moment he spotted her she was aware of it. She could feel him looking at her.

  “Martha,” Nicole said, with no small amount of relief.

  Martha hugged her while her husband pecked her cheek. He excused himself to leave them alone to their gossip.

  “Nicole,” Regina said once he was gone, “if I were you, I would go and talk to the Duke. That little witch Stacy Worthington has her eye on him—and if you’re not careful she’ll get him, too!”

  Nicole looked at her sister frigidly. Thankfully Regina had not yet learned of the arrangements made between the Duke and her father. “I do not care.”

  “He came alone,” Martha said. “But Stacy is definitely after him.”

  “Good. She can have him.” Nicole took another glass of sherry from a passing tray. Ladies never had more than one drink, but she wasn’t a lady, was she? She recalled lying in Hadrian’s arms upon his library floor yesterday and felt heat rise in her cheeks. She knew he was staring at her. Perhaps he was remembering, too. Unable to control herself, she turned to look at him. Their glances locked.

  Stacy was trying to talk to him, but he did not appear to be listening. Nicole thought about how he had imperiously decided her fate. About how he thought he was going to become her husband. About everything he had done. She gave him a very angry glance. He nodded politely. It was then that Stacy noticed where his attention was, and Nicole was satisfied to see her become a livid pink. Nicole turned away.

  “You can lie through your teeth all day, Nicole, but I know how you feel,” Martha whispered.

  Nicole saw that Regina was about to speak, and she gave her a quelling look. Regina smiled somewhat smugly.

  Just then two gentlemen paused beside them, politely greeting Martha. Introductions were made all around, and Nicole realized with a start that Lord Glaser was interested in her. “How are you tonight, Lady Shelton?” Glaser asked.

  Nicole replied politely after recovering her senses. It had been a long time since a man had sought her out in society. What had changed? She had not been out since the charity picnic, excluding Elizabeth’s wake and funeral. Was she suddenly considered acceptable because the Duke had extended his protection to her? No one, of course, knew of their engagement yet. And no one ever would, she thought resolutely.

  She caught Glaser casting a glance at her person—the kind of look that Hadrian had sent her way a hundred times. He quickly redressed his gaze, but Nicole was uncomfortable. She didn’t like to think it, but Hadrian’s avid interest had never bothered her.

  “I must say, I am pleased you are here tonight, Lady Shelton. You brighten up things considerably.”

  She had no choice but to thank him.

  “Will you be staying in London for the rest of the season?”

  “I doubt it,” Nicole said awkwardly. He was interested in her, and she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  “You must stay,” Glaser said.

  “I haven’t decided yet,” Nicole said. She saw that Hadrian was watching them. She had never been a flirt, and in truth, she didn’t know how to be one. But she was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to try, even though she had always been scornful of women who would stoop so low in order to make their beaux jealous.

  She smiled at Lord Glaser and looked him directly in the eye. “But, perhaps you can persuade me.” The moment the words were out, she knew they were too suggestive to be coy. Martha looked horrified. Glaser was briefly stunned.

  “I mean,” she blushed. “I mean, I am enjoying myself so, and…oh, excuse me!”

  She broke free of the group, pushing through the crowd. She hadn’t meant to be suggestive like that, she hadn’t meant it at all. She had only meant to flirt! But flirting was for fools like Stacy Worthington! And now she was the one who had acted like a fool!

  Outside the salon the corridor was empty, but she did not stop until she came to the powder room. Fortunately it was empty and she hurried in, locking the door behind her.

  Oh, what a faux pas! She turned to regard herself in the mirror and saw that she was still red with embarrassment. Could she have possibly made a worse blunder?

  Nicole swallowed and wet a washcloth and moistened her face. When she was composed she left the powder room, resolving to avoid Lord Glaser for the rest of the evening. She stepped outside, and there he was, waiting for her.

  He was a handsome man and he was smiling. Nicole was frozen. “You should not have run away,” he said.

  “My lord,” she said, “forgive me my slip of the tongue. I did not mean it the way it sounded.”

  “Of course you did not,” he smiled again. She could not tell if he believed her or not. He touched her gloved wrist lightly. “There is a ball Friday night at the Abbots’. Would you care to accompany me?”

  She was stunned at the invitation. But she was not given a chance to answer.

  “She will not accompany you, Glaser,” t
he Duke of Clayborough said. “And if you don’t take your hand off of her arm, I will remove it myself.”

  He had come up behind them silently. Nicole jumped. Glaser was puzzled. “I beg your pardon, but did I hear you correctly?”

  “You heard me correctly.”

  Nicole stared at Hadrian. His handsome face looked as if it was carved in stone. Yet his eyes were blazing as he gazed pointedly at Glaser’s palm, resting so lightly upon her arm. Glaser’s grip tightened. “I am not allowed to invite the most beautiful woman in London out? See here, you may be a Duke, you may outrank me, but that does not give you special rights.”

  “I have every right. My future wife will not be going with you to the Abbots’ ball.”

  Glaser suddenly dropped his hand. “I had no idea, Your Grace,” he said quickly.

  The Duke’s smile was cold. “Of course you did not. The engagement was only made today. The announcement is in tomorrow’s papers.”

  “Excuse me again,” Glaser said, nodding at them both. He hurried off.

  Nicole was gaping. “How could you!”

  She had hoped against all odds to get out of this engagement before it became common knowledge. She had no doubt that Lord Glaser would be spreading the news within seconds. By tomorrow morning all of London would know of their engagement, making a graceful and private break-up impossible. Once again the Duke had irrevocably set events in motion, affecting her life and her future, purposefully and without her consent.

  “How could I what? Rescue you from an unwanted admirer?”

  “Who said he was unwanted?” she flung heedlessly.

  He gripped her arm. “He had better have been unwanted, Nicole.”

  She tried to shake him off and did not succeed. “Let go!”

  He complied when it suited him. “I see you are upset.”

  “Upset? Hah! That is an understatement—Your Grace!”

  “Are you upset because I have chased away a handsome but currently illegitimate suitor?”