A Christmas Scandal

by Jane Goodger

“That’s what I thought. If you don’t mind, I need to go to the water closet.”

  He nodded. “I’ll wait by the entrance of the dining hall.”

  Maggie wished he would simply go inside and sit at their table, but didn’t argue. It really was the proper thing to do, but at the moment she just wanted to get away from him and perhaps from her own guilt.

  Maggie emerged from the water closet when she saw Lord Hollings coming quickly toward her. “I’ve found your mother,” he said, and something about the way he said it made her instantly worried. The passionate interlude they’d shared might never have happened the moment he said those words. He immediately turned down a long hallway and she followed him, her anxiety escalating.

  “Is she all right?”

  “You could say that,” he said, sounding as if he was trying to suppress a laugh. “She’s plowed.”

  Maggie stopped dead. “Do you mean drunk?”

  He shrugged his shoulders. “It would appear so.”

  “But she doesn’t drink,” Maggie said, bewildered. “Where is she?”

  Lord Hollings continued to lead her down the deserted hallway to a closed door. “I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to check out their library,” he said, opening the door. “And that is where I found her.”

  “Good Lord,” Maggie whispered. Her mother lay slouched in a large chair, her legs splayed as far as her gown would allow, her hair completely askew, her mouth wide open and emitting a noise quite unlike anything Maggie had ever heard. She rushed to her side, and, even though the evidence was staring her in the face, she was still shocked when she smelled the alcohol on her mother’s breath.

  “She’s drunk!” Maggie whispered harshly.

  “So it would seem. Now we have to figure out a way of getting her out of here without anyone being the wiser.”

  Maggie pressed her fingers against her temples. This was all too, too much. “It’s impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible,” Lord Hollings said, going over to the large windows and examining them. “I could carry her through here.” He sounded doubtful, for there was at least four feet between the bottom of the window and the floor.

  “I’ve never even seen her take a glass of wine,” Maggie said, still in disbelief. No matter how much she wanted to reject the idea that her mother was passed out at her first London ball, she knew she could not. She recalled images of her mother over the past weeks, cheeks flushed, napping in the middle of the day, her strange outbursts, her easy tears. Maggie had attributed all that to the undo stress her mother was under. But apparently that stress had led her mother to the bottle.

  “Honestly, I don’t know if I can take much more,” Maggie said softly.

  Edward assumed she was talking about her fiancé’s abandonment, and now this. “We’ll get her out with none the wiser,” he said with false bravado. The truth was, Edward wasn’t at all certain he’d be able to sneak an unconscious woman in full ball dress out to their carriage with none being the wiser. “Let me get the carriage round and see if we can discreetly get her out. Then I’ll find Amelia and tell her we must go.”

  “She’ll be so disappointed.”

  “By the look of things with that cowboy, it is probably just as well. I fully expect her to go on bended knee any moment and ask him to marry her.”

  Maggie giggled, which is exactly what he was aiming for. Edward walked over to her, hating to see her so sad. “Don’t worry,” he said, kissing her lightly. “Everything will be all right.”

  She looked at him as if he were delusional, and it was his turn to chuckle.

  “I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes,” he said, taking out his watch. “I’ll bring Amelia here. I know she can be trusted to be discreet.” Just then Maggie’s mother let out a loud snort, shifted a bit, then resumed her snoring. Maggie gave him a sick smile. He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms; she looked so damned fragile at the moment, so unlike her confident self.

  “Lord Hollings,” she called after him. “Sir William is waiting for me to join him for dinner. Could you—”

  “I’ll tell him your mother is not feeling well and we must bring her home immediately.”

  “Thank you.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Sir William, but at that moment he likely would have done anything to ease Maggie’s worries. He found Sir William pacing at the entrance to the vast dining hall. Inside, the sound of muffled voices and clinking silverware told him dinner had begun.

  “Sir William, I’m afraid Miss Pierce will not be joining you. Her mother has taken ill and must go home. She sends her regrets, of course.”

  Sir William eyed him almost hostilely. “So you are taking her to home.”

  “Of course.”

  “I see no reason why Miss Pierce cannot stay. I’ll take her home myself.”

  “I’m afraid Miss Pierce wants to stay with her mother,” Edward said, trying not to lose patience with the man. Of all people, he understood Maggie’s charm. He almost felt sorry for the old man, for there was absolutely no way he was going to allow Maggie to marry him. He fully intended to marry her himself.

  Sir William clenched his jaw, clearly not happy with the events. “Where is she, then? I’d like to bid her good night.”

  Edward smiled. “I really couldn’t say.”

  “You what?”

  “I have to find my sister, sir. If you’ll excuse me.”

  “What do you mean, you cannot say?”

  Edward turned, all pretense of pleasantness wiped from his face. “Good evening, sir,” he said in clipped tones, and stalked off to find his sister.

  Amelia was sitting next to Carson Kitteridge, laughing, her eyes sparkling, and Edward felt just a twinge of remorse that he would have to drag her away. He’d never seen his sister having so much fun. Whispering in her ear, he relayed what had happened and was gratified when she immediately stood.

  “I’m so sorry, Mr. Kitteridge, but my friend’s mother has taken ill and I must go.”

  “I sure would like to call on you,” he said, looking from Amelia to Edward.

  Edward, knowing when he was defeated, agreed and Amelia rewarded him with a quick hug.

  “Good night, Mr. Kitteridge. And thank you for being such a wonderful companion this evening. It really was the most wonderful of nights.”

  “The pleasure was all mine, Lady Amelia,” he said, looking sorrowful.

  Brother and sister walked from the dining hall, stopping only to thank Lady Rotherham for a beautiful evening. “I’m sorry you had to leave,” he said.

  “I am, too. Now, what happened? Is she truly plowed?”

  Edward chuckled to hear such slang from his little sister’s mouth. “Extremely so. I don’t have to tell you that is it extremely important that this go no further than us.”

  “Of course not,” Amelia said, slightly offended.

  “I must say I have to credit you for not making a fuss at leaving early.”

  Amelia smiled. “I’m not happy about it, but Mr. Kitteridge had already promised to call on me. Is he not the most gallant man you’ve ever met? Did you know he’s a Texas Ranger? He’s captured criminals, murderers even. He’s a true American hero. And imagine, he’s coming to call on me!”

  “Yes, I’m quite certain the sun dims in his presence.”

  Amelia batted her brother’s arm. “I do believe you are jealous of his wonderfulness.”

  “Absolutely green.”

  “How is Miss Pierce? She must be absolutely mortified.”

  “She is quite upset. And worried we’ll not get her mother out before anyone notices.”

  Amelia was silent for a few moments before stopping her brother. “I caught her drinking,” she whispered. “I was looking for Miss Pierce and found her drinking straight from one of the duke’s decanters. I think it was brandy,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “She didn’t see me, and I didn’t tell a soul.”

  “Maggie told me her mother didn’t drink.” />
  Amelia grinned. “Oh, Maggie told you, did she?”

  “Miss Pierce told me.”

  “I do believe you said ‘Maggie.’”

  “A slip of the tongue. This is all quite upsetting.”

  They’d reached the library, so Amelia stopped her teasing. “Oh, goodness,” she said when she spotted Mrs. Pierce.

  “Amelia, I’m so sorry about this. I know how much you were enjoying the ball.”

  Amelia waved away her apology. “Don’t worry. He’s coming to see me tomorrow,” she said, hugging herself happily. “I do believe I’m in love.”

  Edward looked at his sister in wild disbelief. “You do not love Carson Kitteridge. You are deeply infatuated. You hardly know the man.”

  Amelia scowled at her brother. “You are such a bore,” she said. “Just because you’ve never been in love—” She stopped abruptly, darting a look to Maggie, and gave him a secret smile, which made Edward want to not so secretly strangle his little sister.

  “Let’s get this over with. There’s a door down the hall. It’s only a short walk to where I have the carriage waiting. The only risk is that someone will see us in the hallway, but since everyone is still dining, we have a good chance of that not happening. Now, Maggie, you get on that side of your mother, I’ll get on this side.” Maggie got into position. “And lift.”

  As soon as they lifted the prone woman, she began to mumble protests. “What you doing?” she demanded groggily.

  “It’s time to go home, Mama.”

  “What? We just got here,” she said, trying awkwardly to push Maggie and Edward away.

  “My God, her breath could kill a cat,” he said.

  “Would you please.”

  “Mrs. Pierce, the ball is quite over. We must go to the carriage now.”

  “But I haven’t eaten,” she said. Then, “That’s all right. I’m not feeling all tha’ well, to be honeshed.” She let out a loud and rather pungent burp.

  “Let’s get her outside before she gets ill.”

  “Oh, no,” Maggie said, helping Lord Hollings to half drag her mother out the library and down the hall. Amelia stood as a sentinel to make certain no one saw their escape. When they reached the door, she hurried to open it for them, and it was just a few steps to the carriage.

  “Can you make it up, Mrs. Pierce?”

  “Of coursh I can, you idiot.”

  “Mother!”

  “I’m not an invalid. Oh, goodness.” She threw up then, all over her gown.

  After a few body-racking heaves, she seemed to recover enough to be horrified by what had just happened.

  “No worries,” Edward said cheerfully. “Up you go now, and if you think you’re going to be sick again, let us know, right?”

  All the way to Hanover Square, her mother continually apologized until Maggie threatened to tie a gag across her mouth unless she stopped. Edward couldn’t help himself—he laughed.

  “It’s not funny,” Maggie said sternly, but after a few moments began laughing with him. It was either that, or cry.

  After they got her mother safely in bed, Amelia, Maggie, and Edward went to his kitchen to forage for food. They were all famished, having missed the midnight dinner.

  “Was Sir William awfully disappointed?” Maggie asked after they were seated around the large wooden table where the staff usually ate. In front of them was heated-up potato soup and cold beef. Nothing had ever tasted better to them.

  “He was livid,” Edward said blandly.

  “Was he really?” Amelia asked.

  “I would say he was irritated. I do believe he thought I conspired with Mrs. Pierce so that I would have to drag Miss Pierce away. I do not think he likes the fact that she is staying under my roof.”

  “It is quite proper,” Maggie said, grinning, “especially with my mother’s eagle eye watching me every moment.”

  “He seems to be the jealous sort.”

  “There’s nothing improper about Maggie being here,” Amelia said. “I’m here, and her mother’s here, so to speak. And it’s not as if you have designs on Miss Pierce yourself. No one could be more disinterested. Isn’t that right, Edward?”

  “That is true,” he said, giving Maggie a little wink. She, in turn, gave her head an almost imperceptible shake.

  “Actually, Amelia,” she said with a wicked gleam, “your brother is madly in love with me. He has been since Newport.” She shrugged. “But I’m completely uninterested in him. Poor fellow.”

  “I am madly in love,” he said, and sounded entirely too serious.

  “Yes. With his reflection,” Amelia said, giggling.

  “You have to admit I am a fine specimen.”

  The two girls were having fits.

  “I don’t expect my own sister to think so, but don’t you, Miss Pierce?”

  Maggie could hardly speak. “A fine specimen of what? Male conceit?”

  “No. That category belongs to Amelia’s cowboy.”

  Amelia gasped. “He is not conceited.”

  Maggie and Edward exchanged disbelieving glances.

  “Well, perhaps he is a bit. But can you blame him? He’s the most beautiful man in the world.”

  “The entire world?” Maggie asked.

  Amelia gave a firm nod. “I do believe I’m going to marry him.”

  “Over my dead body,” Edward said darkly.

  “I shall mourn you at your funeral,” Amelia quipped.

  Maggie stifled a yawn. “As much as I enjoy your bickering, I am going to retire.” She carried her dish to the sink.

  “I’m following right behind you,” Amelia said. “Though I do believe I’m far too excited to fall asleep right away.”

  The two women headed out the door.

  “Miss Pierce. If you have a moment?”

  Maggie stopped. She was afraid of what he might say, and even more afraid he wanted to kiss her again. For if he did, she wasn’t certain she’d let him pull away, and she was very sure she could not. Nothing could be worse. She didn’t know what was happening, why Lord Hollings seemed to suddenly take an interest in her. Was it simply that he didn’t like to lose? If he did love her, then why had he left her behind all those months ago? Why hadn’t he written? Why hadn’t he said a single thing to her to indicate his feelings since she’d arrived in England? She wanted to tell him to let her be, let her go on with her life, to stop making her fall in love all over again. “I really am very tired. Can it wait ’til morning?”

  He hesitated, then gave her a small bow. “Of course.”

  They stayed in London two more days, just so Amelia got a chance to see the Real Wild West Show, as well as let her spend a bit of time with her cowboy. During that time Maggie had successfully avoided being alone with Lord Hollings, and had seen Sir William only once; he’d come for supper the night after the ball. All conversation had been about Carson Kitteridge and how wonderful, amazing, handsome, intelligent, and charming he was.

  Maggie wasn’t certain just how old he was, but she was quite sure he wasn’t old enough to have ridden with General Custer, who died at Little Big Horn nearly twenty years earlier. The more she learned about him, the more she thought he was a complete and utter fraud, but Amelia would have none of it. Maggie knew enough not to push too hard, for she knew Amelia would simply dig her heels in and become even more infatuated.

  The afternoon before they left London to return to Bellewood, Amelia came back from an outing with Mr. Kitteridge with a much-repentant and very sober Harriet in tow, fairly glowing. Spying Maggie reading in the library, she practically floated in on a cloud of pure happiness, gushing about her day. She was filled with amazing stories of “Carson’s” exploits. The more she said, the more suspicious Maggie became.

  “You do know that General Custer died in 1876. That was nearly twenty years ago. Mr. Kitteridge doesn’t strike me as being yet out of his twenties. Just how old is he?”

  Amelia looked aghast. “I have no idea. And I can’t say it would be at a
ll polite to ask. He’s been on his own most of his life, so he might have been quite young.”

  “Eight, perhaps?” Amelia actually stuck out her tongue. “Yes, I can see you have a great need for politeness,” she said dryly.

  “If anyone should be worried about someone’s age, Miss Pierce,” she said, even though she’d been calling her “Maggie” for weeks, “it is you. Sir William is quite old enough to be your grandfather.”

  “I simply want you to be careful,” Maggie said. “I know Mr. Kitteridge can be charming, but charming men can lead you straight to a broken heart.”

  Amelia sighed. “Oh, I know he’s full of himself, but I still like him. I think he knows that I know he’s telling tales. It doesn’t make it any less fun to listen to him.”

  “As long as you don’t take all this too seriously. He is leaving in less than a month, you know. And we’re returning to Bellewood tomorrow.”

  Amelia looked forlorn for perhaps a second before smiling again. “He is coming to visit.”

  “He is?”

  “I have to ask the duchess, of course, but I’m sure she’ll say yes.” Maggie gave her a look that told the younger girl inviting Mr. Kitteridge was perhaps not a good idea. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t make any promises to him.”

  “Not yet?”

  “Oh, Maggie,” Amelia gushed suddenly. “I do believe he’s going to ask me to marry him.”

  “No!”

  “Yes!” she said, jumping up and down and clapping like a little girl who’s just be presented a pony for her birthday. “I hope he does. You should see the way he looks at me.” She fanned one hand in front of her face. “It does the most amazing things to me.”

  “Oh, goodness,” Maggie muttered.

  Amelia squeezed her arms around herself. “I’m so happy,” she gushed.

  Maggie gave the younger girl a sick smile. This was far worse than she had imagined. Amelia had only been with the man for two days and already she was getting ready to shop for her trousseau. “Haven’t you ever felt this way? Like you’d just die if you didn’t see someone? Just die?” Amelia sobered. “Of course you have. You were engaged. I forgot, Maggie. I’m so sorry.”

  Maggie held out her hand and Amelia squeezed it. “I do understand,” she said. “But I also know that falling in love can be one of the most painful things that can happen to you.”