A Christmas Scandal

by Jane Goodger

  It would have been extremely impolite to publicly decline such an offer, so Edward was forced to nod in agreement.

  “I’m so glad to be back in London. Elizabeth has secured several invitations for me already. Of course I wouldn’t think of attending anything without you, Amelia. I’d be too lost. And I need you to help me navigate through this world of yours.”

  Edward narrowed his eyes. This was the Maggie he remembered, that effervescent chatterbox that had captured his heart. Something had happened in the past few months that had changed her; he prayed fervently it wasn’t another man, for he didn’t know if he could take another such blow.

  “Only if you promise to tell me everything you know about Texas.”

  Maggie laughed. “I fear I know far more about British society than I do about Texas. Why, that feels like a foreign country to me.” Maggie and her mother turned at a commotion at the door. “Our bags have arrived.”

  “Wilson, could you please show the ladies to their rooms.”

  It was on the tip of Edward’s tongue to ask this vivacious woman standing in front of him if she was aware she had a twin living hereabouts, and one that wasn’t nearly as charming. He studied her, looked for something that told him she was putting on an act, but saw nothing but the girl he’d fallen in love with. And all he could think was No wonder I fell for her. No wonder. And then, tumbling after that thought was the real bafflement that she’d felt none of the reluctance or awkwardness that he had. Because, he had to admit, he still had feelings for her and perhaps she had none. Perhaps she felt as if she were seeing an old friend after a long separation, and there he’d been foolishly trying to calm his beating heart, to stop himself from falling to his knees.

  “How is your little cousin, Lord Hollings?” Maggie asked. “I hope she is doing better.”

  “Lady Matilda has brought the entire brood to Scarborough to the spa there. Janice’s doctor believes the mineral waters there may do her good.”

  “And you doubt that?”

  “She vomits nearly every time she eats. But not every time. I think it’s more likely she keeps eating something that disagrees with her. Matilda agrees, but she hasn’t discovered what that something is. Regardless, the resort is lovely and the children should enjoy themselves.”

  “Mama,” Maggie said, turning to Harriet, “perhaps before you return to New York we can visit Scarborough. Or perhaps Brighton. I’ve heard that’s very nice as well.”

  “Oh, no, Miss Pierce. It’s very passé. Quite the place for the middle class nowadays,” Amelia said.

  “Well, I certainly wouldn’t want to go there,” Maggie said in mock horror.

  As the women discussed where they would visit, and whether it was worth it to travel to Italy for the thermal baths there, Edward became rather stuck on a single sentence Maggie had uttered, seemingly without thinking. She’d said to her mother “before you return to New York” not “before we return to New York.” What did that mean? Surely she had not secured yet another fiancé since her return to England. He’d pictured her safely ensconced at Bellewood cooing over the duchess’s newborn, not gallivanting about the countryside batting her eyes at the gentry. Before he could ask what she’d meant, the two women departed, following Wilson to their rooms.

  “You are frowning again, Edward,” Amelia said.

  “Am I?”

  “It is a very unfortunate look for you. Otherwise you are quite handsome.”

  “Thank you,” he said dryly, as if being handsome was the last on his list of important things.

  That night at dinner, Maggie entertained them all with her harrowing stories of the shipwreck, though she gave no clue at all as to what had brought her to the States in the first place. It seemed a glaring omission, one they seemed, by tacit agreement, not to broach. Edward decided to be a cad and ask her point-blank.

  “Miss Pierce, what brought you to New York in the first place? You never did say.”

  Maggie’s expression was almost comical. It seemed to Edward to be a logical enough question, but one might have thought he’d just asked her what kind of underclothes she was wearing. Instead of answering him, she looked to her mother, who gave her daughter a pained look.

  “I don’t see the point in hiding it any longer,” Maggie said.

  “Hiding what?” Amelia said, leaning forward as if she sensed a great secret were about to be imparted.

  Maggie’s mother gave an imperceptible nod, apparently giving her permission.

  “I went to visit my father,” Maggie said, and winked at her mother.

  “Oh?” Her bland answer made him even more confused.

  “He’s in prison. He’s been in prison since last August, right about the time His Grace issued the invitation for us to visit.”

  “Prison!” Amelia gasped, delighted that the secret was so exciting. “Did he murder someone?”

  Maggie laughed. “It’s not quite as sordid as all that. He embezzled money from his friends. It was all very humiliating for the entire family. He was supposed to be imprisoned for five years, but he’s being released in August. I don’t see the point in hiding it anymore.”

  “It’s still not something we like to talk about,” Harriet interjected, apparently displeased with her daughter’s forthrightness.

  “Of course not,” Edward said, frowning. This explained a great deal, he realized. It must have been the reason Maggie seemed a bit changed when he saw her. Now he understood why she was wearing remade dresses, why she’d seemed in such a hurry to get married…

  Only not to him.

  His face flushed with humiliation and he took a long drink of his wine, holding up his empty glass to the footman for a refill. God, he was such a fool.

  “We were left quite destitute,” Maggie said lightly. “We truly have only the clothes on our backs.” She said it as if it were of no consequence. Or as if it were something she’d already resolved by securing a new fiancé. That simply did not bear thinking about.

  “You certainly seem to be in high spirits considering,” Edward pointed out. “Certainly you can’t be that destitute if you are planning trips to Scarborough or Italy.”

  Maggie simply beamed him a smile. “I think we’ll manage, at least I hope so,” she said vaguely.

  But her mother blurted, “My Maggie’s getting married.”

  “Mother! Nothing is finalized yet. You know that. You shouldn’t have said anything,” Maggie said, her tone livid.

  Harriet appeared to be trying not to laugh, so giddy was she over the prospects of her daughter’s upcoming nuptials. She was quite unaware of the fury in her daughter’s eyes.

  “Married! Oh, how wonderful,” Amelia gushed. Then she quickly cast her brother a look and instantly sobered, which Edward found exceedingly annoying. He did not like to be pitied by his little sister. “I am very happy for you,” she added in a much more subdued tone. “Who is the gentleman?”

  “I’m not at liberty to say. And neither is my mother,” Maggie said pointedly.

  Edward lifted his glass in a toast. “Congratulations, Miss Pierce.” It was happening all over again, that sick feeling of falling, of his heart being trampled on. Again.

  Maggie looked at Edward and wanted to murder her mother. Though she hadn’t been drinking lately, this night Harriet had had three glasses of wine and they’d obviously gone straight to her head. Imagine announcing Maggie was getting married to the very man she planned to wed. Now Edward believed her to be engaged to another man and really, other than proposing to him on the spot, there was nothing she could do. She hadn’t had a chance to truly gauge whether or not he still loved her.

  “No banns have been read,” she said sickly. “This really is all quite premature.”

  “But you have an understanding?” Amelia asked, looking confused.

  “Most definitely,” Harriet gushed.

  “Not yet,” Maggie said at the same time. Then, “Mother, please.”

  Harriet looked quite happy with hers
elf. “Would you like a hint?” she asked.

  Oh, goodness, Maggie thought, perhaps her mother had more than the three glasses she’d seen her drink. “I think my mother needs to…go,” Maggie said, standing abruptly and grabbing her mother’s arm.

  “Maggie, let go of me,” Harriet said crossly.

  “Let her have her fun,” Edward said, his tone hard. Maggie stopped and gave Edward a look that was meant to tell him to leave off.

  “See?” Harriet said, pulling her arm away from her daughter. “They don’t mind a bit of fun. You are being a very poor sport, Margaret.”

  “Edward, perhaps—” Amelia started, but was immediately interrupted by her brother.

  “I enjoy games. Do give us a hint, Mrs. Pierce.”

  “Mother,” Maggie pleaded, on the verge of tears.

  Finally, Harriet recognized the stress she was causing her daughter. “The only hint I’ll give you—”

  “Mother, please.”

  Harriet smiled triumphantly. “—is that he is taller than I.”

  There was complete silence in the room for two beats; then Maggie laughed, so completely relieved that her mother hadn’t exposed her she nearly collapsed. She would put off murdering her for later.

  “That isn’t much of a hint,” Amelia said, laughing.

  “Because there isn’t much of an engagement,” Maggie said, sitting down and rubbing her temples with her index fingers. She was beginning to get a rather hideous headache.

  The small dinner party was interrupted by the footmen presenting a lemon sponge cake with honey drizzled over it as a light dessert. Maggie took a small forkful even though she was feeling slightly ill.

  “I have business to attend to,” Lord Hollings said, standing abruptly. “If you ladies will pardon me.”

  Maggie watched him go, feeling the temptation to throttle her mother grow tenfold. “Mother, how could you say such a thing?” she hissed.

  Her mother looked at her like a puppy who’s been caught ripping up a cherished item. “I spoke out of turn, didn’t I?”

  “That is quite the understatement,” Maggie muttered, pushing her plate away. The cake was delicious, but her stomach simply couldn’t take another bite.

  “Who is your intended?” Amelia said, her eyes going to the door where Lord Hollings had just disappeared.

  “There is no intended,” Maggie said, more harshly than she intended. “The only thing engaged in this room is my mother’s imagination.”

  “And me,” Amelia said, grinning.

  Maggie smiled. “And you.”

  Lord Hollings was quite good at not being seen. Over the next four days, no one saw hide nor hair of the man who was supposed to be accompanying the women to all sorts of entertainments. He’d missed a small private concert in Lord Wakefield’s home, a luncheon at Lady Spindleton’s, and a supper at Mr. Randolph’s massive mansion in Mayfair. His obvious absence put a damper on the events, for all three women, if not especially Maggie. She had wandered the house at all hours hoping to see Lord Hollings, but either he was not actually living in the town house or he kept such late hours he managed to avoid all contact.

  In a bit of desperation, Maggie decided to write to him and ask for a meeting.

  Dear Lord Hollings:

  I have something of importance to discuss with you regarding my upcoming engagement.

  Yours,

  Miss Pierce

  Maggie smiled down at the brief note knowing he would likely crumple the thing into a ball and toss it into the fire. But he would no doubt schedule a meeting.

  Edward did precisely what Maggie had predicted, except for the part about him scheduling a meeting. God, did the woman have absolutely no heart in that ice chest of hers? Did she not recall him begging her to marry him, telling her he loved her, making a complete and utter ass of himself over her? To think he had carried that damned book around with him like a child carrying a favorite toy. Never in his life had he been so disgusted with his behavior. She wanted to meet with him? Too damned bad.

  Thus far in what he knew would be a torturous season, Edward had managed to avoid attending the events with his sister and her two chaperones. But he could not avoid attending Lord Wethering’s ball. Wethering had been one of those cash-poor peers who was genuinely interested in making money by working for it. Edward counted the viscount as a friend and they had muddled through a few business dealings together. Edward was a bit more knowledgeable having had an uncle who was a genius at business. Wethering was celebrating a good year, having made more money in the past twelve months than his father had in the past twelve years.

  So it was an irritated Lord Hollings who tugged at his cuffs in impatience while he awaited the grand entrance of the females. He had not seen anyone in nearly five days, for he found, for some reason, any female living beneath his roof highly annoying. His sister could only gush on and on about Carson, even though he deeply suspected the letter she waited for on tenterhooks would never arrive. Maggie was far too pleased with herself, far too oblivious of the knife she was twisting delightedly into his back. And her mother was…well, she was simply irritating for no particular reason other than she was related to Maggie.

  He could not wait until this evening was over.

  When the three of them finally made their entrance, he scowled and muttered, “Of course.” Of course she would look stunning. Why wouldn’t she? No doubt she would attract a herd of men to her side this night. No doubt she would delight them with her effervescent personality and that dress that hardly covered her. He fought the strong urge to throw a blanket about her. The dress, a deep copper with some sort of gold lacy underskirt, exposed her chest to an alarming degree. He could clearly see the plump mounds of her breasts and wondered if she would be totally exposed if she simply bounced a bit.

  His sister, on the other hand, wore an extremely modest off-white creation that fit her like a sack compared to the form-fitted dress Maggie wore. She might as well have hung a sign around her neck saying “Unavailable.”

  “You are all lovely,” he said in an obligatory way.

  Amelia smiled at him. “Really?”

  The brat knew she looked plain, not an easy task for a girl as lovely as his sister. She certainly wasn’t dressed the way she had been the night she’d met Carson.

  “I do believe Cook has an old potato sack in the kitchen you could wear at the next ball,” he said dryly.

  “Oh? I do hope she can spare it,” Amelia said with a smug smile. “And there is absolutely nothing wrong with this dress, is there, Maggie?”

  “Perfectly appropriate for a single girl.”

  “Who wants to remain single,” Lord Hollings added.

  Amelia simply laughed. “You know, Edward, I could have had my feelings hurt.”

  “But you didn’t, did you?”

  “No.” Amelia looked entirely too pleased with herself and Harriet simply shook her head, completely confused by the entire exchange. “You must not have had any brothers growing up, did you, Mrs. Pierce?”

  “No, and I’m beginning to thank goodness I didn’t,” she said.

  Edward helped the women into his coach, keeping his touch as brief as possible as he handed Maggie up. He did not meet her eyes, even though he sensed she was staring at him, almost willing him to look at her. The ride in the carriage was brief, but necessary; one simply did not walk to a ball. Waiting in the queue took longer than actually reaching it, and by the time they stopped in front of the manse, it was all Edward could do but run from the chattering magpies that filled his coach. They had not stopped talking for a moment but to breathe, and while one was breathing, the others were talking. He longed to do nothing more than head to the Wetherings’ billiard room, but knew he had to do his duty first by hanging about his sister.

  “I know someone will ask me to dance, and I will of course, but I certainly will not enjoy it,” Amelia vowed.

  Maggie laughed. “But what if the most handsome, richest, kindest man in England
comes up to you? What shall you do?”

  “That man has already left,” Amelia said, and Edward barely suppressed a grown.

  As he’d predicted, the men could not keep their eyes from Maggie. He ignored them and tried his best to ignore her. It was the first time he’d attended a ball and not asked her to dance. Too raw was the memory of the last ball, when they’d gone out to the terrace and he’d kissed her. He’d not repeat that mistake again.

  Instead, he made an effort to dance with every other beautiful woman in the room and hardly noticed the bevy of admirers constantly surrounding Maggie. All he could think of was that she certainly was not acting like an engaged girl. At least his sister, as disillusioned as she was, was trying not to attract attention to herself. He was rather proud of her loyalty and hoped Mr. Kitteridge warranted it. Unfortunately, if Amelia continued to act the wallflower, she would have little hope of attracting a man to replace the one occupying her heart. Edward suspected his entire plan was doomed to fail. He had underestimated his sister’s complete devotion to Kitteridge. Just as he had woefully overestimated Maggie’s attraction to himself.

  Just as he was about to leave the ballroom, Amelia came up to him looking miserable. “I wish to leave,” she said.

  “Has something happened?”

  “I simply cannot enjoy myself without Carson here.”

  “Try. I’m going to the billiard room to discuss business. I shouldn’t be more than an hour. Can you at least endure that much?”

  “I suppose.”

  “You know, Amelia, you might find yourself having fun if you would allow yourself to.”

  “I could say the same to you. I’ve noticed you haven’t had a single dance with Miss Pierce.”

  His eyes found her on the dance floor as she looked up, smiling, into the face of a viscount who was heir to a dukedom. The young man looked completely entranced. “She seems to be having a fine time without me. If you will excuse me, Amelia, I’ll try not to be too long.”