One Scandalous Kiss

by Christy Carlyle

  It was a bit like acquiring a new skill, and she wasn’t certain how to practice. Like the time she’d set herself to learning French, only to find she’d never have reason to use a word of it. But even if no one else noticed, and she had no idea how to wield her modest share of feminine beauty, she was grateful to know she could achieve it at all.

  “You’re so talented, Tilly. Thank you.”

  The maid looked abashed. “Nonsense, miss. Downstairs with you now, or you’ll be the last in the dining room.”

  That thought was enough to make Jess scurry toward the hall as quickly as she could with petticoats and the heavy skirt of her gown threatening to trip her. Following on the heels of a footman carrying a steaming of tray of foodstuffs, Jess found the dining room, only to discover there’d been no need for haste. The chairs were empty and the footman looked at her as if she might be lost.

  “I believe His Lordship is in the drawing room with Lady Stamford and his guests. Through that door and down the hall, miss.”

  “Thank you,” Jess said, already heading for the door.

  The hallway toward the drawing room led back to Hartwell’s grand front doors. Some rooms along the hall had doors that stood open and she looked in on one, just next to Lord Grimsby’s study, that appeared to be an impressive library. Bookshelves reaching to the ceiling held volumes of books all neatly arranged, the gilt on their spines forming perfect lines across each shelf. Jess longed to explore the room, to find out what titles the Dunthorpes had collected, and pressed a hand against her chest to stifle a pang of longing for the little bookshop in London. Would anyone notice if she disappeared for a few hours in the library rather than take her place at the dinner table?

  She forced her feet to keep moving and drew near the drawing room. In Hartwell’s entryway, Jess saw a collection of trunks, portmanteaus, and hatboxes. A flurry of maids and footmen were attacking the collection piece by piece.

  “Have any guests arrived?”

  A harried maid glanced at Jess, swiping stray hairs back under her mobcap.

  “Aye, miss, His Lordship’s sister and her husband.”

  Upon hearing the girl’s answer, Jess released the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. No Kitty Adderly. At least not yet.

  “Thank you.” Jess nodded her thanks and continued on toward the drawing room.

  She heard voices and laughter carrying through the half-open door. Lord Grimsby’s tone roared out above them all.

  “Give the chin wags a week. Then it will all be forgotten.”

  Jess cringed, fearing the discussion had already turned to her encounter with Lord Grimsby. No, surely not. A gaggle of aristocrats would have better subjects to discuss.

  The maid from the foyer passed behind her carrying three large boxes balanced with precision in her slim arms.

  “The drawing room’s just in there, miss.”

  Everyone else seemed to know where Jess belonged. If only she felt as certain.

  She slanted a grin back at the maid. “Thank you. Working up my courage.”

  The girl stopped in her tracks a moment. She looked Jess up and down, assessing her. “You look as much the fine lady as any I ever saw, miss.”

  Jess leaned toward the maid and lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m afraid you can’t always judge a book by its cover.”

  The young maid stared at her for a moment, as if pondering Jess’s platitude, and then hefted the boxes up an inch in her arms before continuing on her way.

  Jess turned back to the drawing room door, took a breath so deep it made her dizzy, and stepped into the room. Perhaps if the discussion was lively enough, they wouldn’t notice her at all.

  A gasp followed by a shattered teacup reminded Jess of one of her father’s favorite sayings.

  If it weren’t for bad luck, my girl, we wouldn’t have any luck at all.

  Every head turned her way, and the woman who’d dropped her cup of tea was fanning herself and being assisted to a chair by a man Jess found vaguely familiar.

  Actually, both the fainting woman and her husband were familiar. Jess recalled with a jolt where she’d seen them before. They’d been at the gallery. They’d witnessed the incident with Lord Grimsby. The man was the one who’d tried to draw him away afterward, and it seemed he knew the viscount well enough to be invited to this intimate house party.

  Jess’s head began to throb. The maid said the viscount’s sister and brother-in-law had arrived. Had she really kissed the man in front of his own sister?

  Breathily, the woman whispered, “You can’t have brought her here, Lucius. Tell me you did not.”

  Lady Stamford bustled over to the woman and patted her on the head as one would a fussing child.

  “I brought her, my dear.” Augusta turned to Jessamin. “Miss Wright, this is Lady Julia, my niece. Lucius’s sister. And this is her husband, Mr. Darnley.” Augusta leaned toward Lady Julia and then gestured toward Jessamin. “Julia, my dear, this is Miss Wright, my companion. She is a most invaluable young woman. I can’t tell you how she has assisted me in the short time I’ve known her. I simply cannot do without her now.”

  Lady Stamford’s praise was always effusive, and Jess feared her cheeks would soon be as red as the geraniums in Marleston’s conservatory.

  Lady Julia seemed unimpressed by Augusta’s recommendation and continued to stare at Jess skeptically. Then Mr. Darnley approached and whispered something in the woman’s ear. Whatever it was, his words seemed to have a beneficial effect on Lord Grimsby’s sister. She stood up, straightened her skirts, and approached Jess.

  She forced an expression Jess imagined was meant to be pleasant, but looked more as if someone twisted something very sharp in the woman’s side. She gave up and offered Jess the slightest of nods.

  “How do you do, Miss Wright? I am pleased to make the acquaintance of anyone my aunt regards so highly.”

  Jess opened her mouth to reply, but Lady Julia’s voice quivered as she said, “Tell me, wherever did she find you?”

  Truth seemed best, at least what she could tell of it.

  “In a bookshop, my lady. Lady Stamford offered me employment when I was sorely in need of it. I will always be grateful to her.”

  Lady Julia glanced at her brother before offering Jess another upturned grimace.

  “How fortuitous for you.”

  “Yes.”

  She wasn’t certain how she’d done it, but with the single word, Jess sensed some of the tension in the room ease. Augusta and Lady Julia began speaking quietly to each other, while Mr. Darnley joined Lord Grimsby and a tall, handsome man Jess had yet to meet.

  Her breathing steadied and the throbbing in her head began to ease, a slight tapping now rather than thunder. She selected a place on the settee where she hoped to be out of the way and yet available to converse if called upon to do so. She focused on remembering to breathe, attempting to project a bit of the elegance she’d seen in the looking glass, and never glancing in Lord Grimsby’s direction.

  Lady Stamford gave her an encouraging smile from across the room now and then, and Jess grinned back before forcing herself to examine the room’s lovely furnishings while plotting ways to escape and explore the library. The gentlemen gathered behind her chattering about horses and an upcoming hunt. She tried not to fidget, even when she caught a bit of the viscount’s spice scent on the air around her. Reminding herself not to glance at him, to turn her attention elsewhere, she noticed the tight press of her corset and bodice and couldn’t resist rearranging her skirts and smoothing her hands across the luxurious fabric to settle her nerves.

  “Do you always fret over your frocks like that?”

  There was no mistaking his voice, especially when he spoke low and set off gooseflesh on her skin. Lord Grimsby stood beside the settee, staring down his aristocratic Roman nose at her.

  She whispered back, hoping the viscount’s sister, who still speared her with an occasional curious glare, wouldn’t hear their exchange.<
br />
  “I’ve never worn this dress before. I’m not used to it.” She wasn’t used to any of the finery of her new life. “Perhaps I’m not suited to it.” Her comment encompassed the dress, the company she found herself in, even the distracting man looming over her.

  He had to know she didn’t belong just as surely as she did. For several heartbeats, he said nothing, just watched her, raking her with his gaze as he’d done when she met him near the copse of trees.

  She itched to say something cheeky, to distract him from his harsh judgments and save her pride, whatever was left of it.

  Then he laid his hand on the back of the settee, his long fingers gripping the damask.

  “It suits you perfectly. The fit, the cut, the color.” Then more quietly, just for her. “You suit the dress, Miss Wright.”

  Jess allowed herself a glance at him. He wasn’t even looking at her, but she noticed a twitch of movement along his jaw.

  He turned then, his gaze tangling with hers, searing her with an intense spike of heat in her chest, down her spine, lower into her center.

  “Do I?”

  A curt nod of his head was his only reply. It was such a small, quick movement, she almost missed it.

  But then he spoke again. One word, husky, deep.

  “Spectacularly.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “DINNER IS SERVED, my lord.”

  At Marleston, there’d been a gong the butler sounded before luncheon and dinner meals. It was an exotic and pleasant noise, and Jess loved the sound of it. This gentleman’s voice, whoever he was, couldn’t compare. Nasally and high-pitched, his tone commanded rather than invited. And everyone in the room responded instantly, men and women pairing off before proceeding to the dining room.

  As Lord Grimsby escorted his aunt, his sister and her husband followed, and the man to whom Jess had yet to be introduced approached her.

  “May I escort you in to dinner, Miss Wright?”

  “Yes, of course.”

  He smiled and said, “Ghastly improper, of course, since we’ve yet to be introduced. Robert Wellesley. Grimsby and I have known each other for ages. And you”—he paused and his gaze took Jess in from the top of Tilly’s elaborate hairstyle to the toes of her shoes—“are his aunt’s most invaluable companion.”

  Wellesley’s manner was far too familiar and his wandering gaze brazen, but Jess felt a sense of instant kinship with the man. The way he held his mouth, something in his blue-green eyes, told Jess he didn’t feel as comfortable as he was attempting to appear.

  His smile faltered as Jess studied him. Then he lifted his arm and met her gaze with one as searching as her own.

  “Shall we?”

  Jess took his arm and allowed him to lead her.

  “Shall I call you Mr. Wellesley or something else?”

  He leaned toward her as they walked. “I should very much like you to call me Rob, but that might cause a scandal. So I suppose it shall have to be Wellesley.”

  “No title then?” Jess wanted to bite her tongue the moment the rude words were out. She sounded as catty as Kitty Adderly. But something about Mr. Wellesley’s manner invited her to jest.

  And he wasn’t cross. In fact, his response—a belly-deep laugh so infectious she laughed too—drew the attention of Lady Stamford and Lord Grimsby as they crossed the threshold into the dining room.

  Wellesley cleared his throat and stood up straight, projecting an air of solemn propriety. He whispered so only Jess could hear. “I am the second son of a second son, I’m afraid. But I assure you, Miss Wright, I wouldn’t take a title if a dozen were on offer. Too much bother. Too many rules. Doesn’t suit me at all.”

  Jess believed him. Sincerity shaded every word, but then he tilted his mouth mischievously before breaking into a dazzling smile, as if honesty and solemnity were the least of his concerns.

  “Besides, a title makes a man the most sought-after fish in the pond. I allow that a day will come when I can no longer slip the hook, but I don’t wish to be caught for a title. What man does?”

  There were more chairs at the long dining table than seemed necessary for their small group, and Jess had no idea where hers might be. Thankfully, Mr. Wellesley seemed to know exactly where each of them belonged. He assisted her into a seat to Lady Stamford’s right and then took a chair directly across from Jess. She could barely see him over the large floral arrangement decorating the table.

  Lord Grimsby was already seated near the head of the table, but not in the chair at the head itself. For the first time, Jess wondered about the absence of his father. She had yet to meet the earl. Would the gentleman the maids had spoken of so dismissively be joining them?

  By the third course, Jess’s corset was protesting, though she knew from formal dinners at Marleston there would be at least two more. She sipped at her wine and listened to the conversation around her, grateful no one had engaged her in more than polite exchanges. A bit of the tension in her body seemed to melt away, and she found it increasingly difficult to resist glancing in Lord Grimsby’s direction. He was a broad-shouldered black and white form, enticing her at the periphery of her vision, and if she tilted her head just so, she could watch him as he lifted his glass to the mouth she’d kissed.

  Then she’d look away and lifted her own glass, silently chastising herself for such silliness.

  The dinner table conversation ranged from people Jess didn’t know to soirees she would never attend, and then back to horses. It was the only topic that tempted her to join in. She’d read Miss Sewell’s Black Beauty with pleasure, and Jess admired horses. They were valiant creatures that pulled omnibuses and carriages through London’s muck. Horses were reliable, and after a lifetime with Father, Jess admired reliability in man or beast more than any other quality.

  The tower of flowers before her shuddered and Wellesley’s face appeared around the far edge of it. He reached out his hand and nudged the tower of blooms to his right. The arrangement now sat between them and the rest of the table, affording them a modicum of privacy, which she suspected was terribly improper.

  “Have you given up on that fish?”

  “I can’t eat another bite.”

  “You haven’t had Cook’s custard. It’s divine, Miss Wright.”

  His sincerity regarding the custard made her smile. There was no denying the appeal of good custard.

  “Then I’m definitely finished with my fish. It seems I must save room for Hartwell’s renowned custard.”

  “I do adore a sensible woman.”

  Jess felt herself blush and silently cursed her pale skin that always gave her away, betraying her embarrassment and nervousness just when she wished to be strong and unaffected. She sipped at her wine to cool the heat and hoped no one else at the table heard Mr. Wellesley’s teasing flirtation.

  Augusta’s voice, mock stern, emanated from beyond the floral arrangement.

  “Your mother will be pleased to hear it, Robert. She has long believed you had a weakness for all women, but it seems if she wishes to get you married, it is a sensible one who will fit the bill. I shall pen a letter to her straightaway. Miss Wright can help me with it.”

  She should have known the countess would hear. Jess had quickly learned Lady Stamford had extraordinarily keen hearing and an even more impressive ability to distinguish all the various conversations going on at once, no matter how crowded the social gathering. Jess was certain this small group posed no challenge for her skills.

  Mr. Wellesley took a healthy drink of wine before replying.

  “You’re too good to me, Lady Stamford.”

  He leaned toward Jess, his upper body looming perilously close to the remnants of fish on his plate.

  “Never allow my mother and that woman in the same room together. The way they’re always scheming, I call them the Gorgons.”

  “Weren’t there three gorgons, Jessamin?” Augusta’s voice was so pleasant, Jess could almost imagine the countess didn’t know she’d just been refe
rred to as a monster with hair made out of living snakes. But Jess knew her employer was well read and particularly loved Greek mythology.

  “In some of the stories, yes, my lady.” Jess sat up straight and turned to look at Lady Stamford as she spoke.

  The countess signaled to a footman, who stepped forward to remove the fragrant floral arrangement, opening up the table so that Jess and Mr. Wellesley were no longer cloistered at their end.

  “Thank you, my lady. Miss Wright and I were feeling quite left out down here on our own.”

  Despite his polite words, a touch of sarcasm colored Mr. Wellesley’s tone. Jess had the sense he was a bit like her, quite content to converse with one person rather than the group. His conspiratorial wink in her direction convinced her she was right.

  With the view opened up, Jess took the opportunity to glance at the rest of those gathered around the table, at Mr. and Mrs. Darnley and then at Lord Grimsby. Mrs. Darnley and her husband were still tucking into their fish, but the viscount’s gaze was locked on Jess. She felt a tickle at the back of her neck and shivered.

  Did he glare at everyone in that same searing way? And was everyone as unnerved by it?

  If he continued to look at her like that for the next fortnight, she wasn’t certain she could be elegant or proper or help to make the house party a success as Lady Stamford desired. When he gazed at her, all she could think about was their kiss, a moment when he’d made her feel as if she was the most desirable woman in London.

  The footman leaned in front of her to take her plate, blocking out her view of the viscount. She turned to the young man and thanked him under her breath. But Lord Grimsby remained a distraction in the corner of her vision. She noticed another footman refill his wine glass before he lifted it to this mouth and drank from the cut-crystal vessel until it was nearly empty again.

  “But I do admit that if it’s a sensible woman you seek, my dear Miss Wright is an excellent example.”