How to Enjoy a Scandal

by Adrienne Basso

  He took her hand in his, laid the other on her waist and in that moment she realized it was a waltz.

  Oh dear.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked with concern.

  The question jerked her out of her panic. “’Tis a waltz.”

  His brow furrowed as the strains of music began. “Do you know the steps?”

  “I think so. My dancing master taught them to me many years ago, but I have never danced a waltz in public.”

  “It’s easy. Just follow my lead.”

  And with that, he swept her into the dance. Gwendolyn closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them, as she fought to remember what she had been trained.

  Not surprisingly, the viscount was an excellent dancer.

  His movements were fluid, his hand on her back gently guiding her one way, then another.

  Gwendolyn tightened her grip and felt his shoulder flex beneath her fingers. His hand, resting on the small of her back, moved lower and tightened. Her wits scattered as she tried to remember which way her feet must go.

  He danced like an aristocrat, masterfully leading her every step, weaving her through the maze of dancing couples. Gwendolyn tried to relax in his arms, letting her feet follow his lead without too much thought. Heads turned as he whirled her around the room and she feared she would stumble and embarrass them both.

  Though she did not voice her fear, he seemed to understand it. He pulled her closer and she soon realized that only mere inches separated them while the other couples were apart by almost a foot. Their bodies brushed, then touched, and she was surrounded by the feel of his chest close to her own.

  She lifted her head and whispered, “I think you are holding me too close.”

  He met her gaze with a quizzical gleam in his eye. “I shall hold you however I wish, since I am leading the dance. Besides, I like it.”

  I like it too. Dragging in a breath, Gwendolyn tried to calm her emotions. Her senses quivered as she gradually surrendered to his dominance. She felt cocooned in his arms, his masculine strength and effortless grace hiding any of her flaws.

  It was an amazing feeling. For the first time in her life, Gwendolyn understood what drove a woman to occasionally act rashly when in the company of a man.

  As they were the last to arrive, Lord Fairhurst informed her they would be the first to leave. Gwendolyn was relieved. The strain of appearing as if ever ything were perfectly fine and normal was starting to wear on her nerves. She had somehow managed to get through the evening without making any major mistakes and she most definitely wished to quit while she could still claim a victory.

  Mrs. Hollingsworth was not to be found, so after a brief farewell to Mr. Hollingsworth, they stepped out of the stuffy house into the cooler night air. A gust of wind skittered across the portico as they waited for the viscount’s carriage to arrive. Gwendolyn felt the edges of her gown flutter in the breeze and she had to squash the most ridiculous desire to hold out her arms and twirl with delight in the wind.

  It had worked! Not perfectly perhaps, but far beyond anything she could have accomplished on her own. The grin Gwendolyn had held inside burst forth. She had attended a society party and lived to tell the tale.

  ’ Twas a glorious feeling!

  Lord Fairhurst handed her into the carriage and followed, shutting the door firmly on the rest of the world.

  “A triumph, Miss Ellingham. You should be pleased.”

  “I am.”

  The coach lurched for ward and they started for home. Gwendolyn flushed faintly and sat back in the shadows, the glow of her success surrounding her.

  Within minutes, however, she noticed that her heartbeat had started racing, and her chest began to tighten with an unfamiliar emotion. Confused, she glanced over at the viscount.

  He was staring intently at her. The shock of it sent a jolt through her entire system and Gwendolyn had to hold the edge of her seat to steady herself. She fought to ignore the way her senses seemed to have fixed on him, seemed to be pulling her toward a road that could only lead to disaster.

  She snapped open her fan and fiddled with the edges, needing a moment to gather her thoughts. She was so absorbed in controlling her emotions that she barely felt the pressure on the padded seat as the viscount shifted his position.

  Startled, Gwendolyn looked up at him and found herself so close to his handsome face that she was unable to utter a word. The tension between them that had begun while they were dancing grew with each passing turn of the carriage wheels. Gwendolyn’s heart thumped inside her breast so forcefully she felt light-headed.

  “There is only one way to properly seal such a victory as we shared tonight.” His expression was easy, yet seductive, as he met her gaze. “With a kiss.”

  Gwendolyn steeled herself against the effect his words had, fearing if just the mention of a kiss sent her heart racing, the actual kiss itself would leave her dizzy.

  He lowered his head. With innate, and amazingly accurate timing, Gwendolyn turned her head just as Lord Fairhurst’s lips reached her face and he kissed her cheek, instead of her lips. It was better this way, she sternly told herself, yet Gwendolyn felt embarrassed at the intense disappointment that swamped her.

  She pulled away and glanced over at him, wondering at his reaction. In the bright moonlight, she saw his smile flash, but the gleam of predatory determination in his eyes did little to soothe her taut nerves.

  “Did you sample the champagne?” she asked in a breathless rush. “I own I am hardly an expert, but I thought it a bit flat. What was your opinion of the quality?”

  The viscount’s gaze never wavered from her face. She had no earthly idea what he was thinking and wondered perhaps if that was for the best. Knowing what improper, seductive ideas were swirling through his head would surely send her into a witless panic.

  After what seemed like an eternity, but was in truth only a few seconds, Lord Fairhurst replied, “The champagne was a decent vintage, but not properly chilled. A common problem encountered at this time of year.”

  “How interesting,” Gwendolyn lied, in as casual a manner as she could evoke. “The Hollingsworths seemed to spare no expense on the affair, yet stinted on the amount of ice they purchased.”

  “A true pity.” Lord Fairhurst’s voice was amused.

  With her pulse skittering as fast as a mouse racing from a cat, Gwendolyn racked her brain for another topic. “And the food? Did you eat any? I confess to being far too nervous to taste a morsel.”

  “I found the oysters especially delightful,” the viscount replied. “I must find out where the Hollingsworths found such choice, fresh specimens this time of year.”

  She could tell by his expression that there was some sort of hidden meaning in his remark, but Gwendolyn was too rattled to try and sort it out. She persisted in pretending that all was normal and, with a strained effort, they gradually slipped into the natural rhythm of conversation.

  Yet, Gwendolyn was very aware that Lord Fairhurst was regarding her with faintly amused interest. Still, he did his part to keep the conversation going, and for that she was grateful.

  She nearly cried out with relief when the coach turned down the gravel drive. She was nearly home. Not surprisingly, there were no servants about when they pulled into the courtyard. The viscount’s footman helped Gwendolyn from the carriage and she thanked him quietly.

  She hurried toward the front of the house, following the light from the first story window that spilled onto the lawn. She could sense that Lord Fairhurst was close on her heels, but Gwendolyn chose not to acknowledge his presence.

  When she reached the door, Gwendolyn whirled around so quickly that her body collided with the viscount’s. His arms came around her, to prevent her from falling.

  “Oh, do forgive my clumsiness, my lord. I fear—”

  He never gave her the opportunity to finish the sentence. He slid his right hand around the back of her neck, angled her head upward and then his mouth came down boldly upon hers. Captivat
ed, Gwendolyn felt utterly at his mercy, as he coaxed and teased, modulating the pressure and angle of his mouth, urging her to respond.

  Catching her lower lip between his teeth, he nibbled brashly. Gwendolyn gasped, then shivered when the hot, wet tip of his tongue edged out, skimming across her lips. They throbbed at the contact and she opened her mouth. Misunderstanding, he seized the opportunity and slipped his tongue between her lips.

  Something instantly changed. The undercurrent of attraction Gwendolyn had been fighting nearly burst into flame. Time held still as her breath mingled with his and she became lost in a haze of pleasure. The kiss deepened and lengthened. Fire licked between them and he pressed his body against hers, letting her feel the evidence of his growing desire for her.

  Gwendolyn’s body strained for air. Everything within her screamed to pull away, to act with decorum and decency, but Gwendolyn couldn’t do it. She had fallen into the pleasure and desire with startling ease and could not seem to pull herself from it.

  Gwendolyn had been kissed twice before, but never with such skill and passion. The viscount’s kisses left her stunned and reeling and longing to fill the emptiness inside she had never before acknowledged existed. She was tingling, feeling as if her feet no longer touched the floor. Her body, as well as her mind, felt warm and languid, just as it had earlier tonight when she sipped the warm champagne too quickly.

  He kissed her cheek, then nuzzled just below her earlobe. Without really thinking about it, she snuggled against him, savoring the moment.

  Senses still reeling, Gwendolyn slowly opened her eyes. Lord Fairhurst was staring back at her, his pupils dark and wide. Her hand went to her throat as she tried to quell her rioting emotions.

  “I will not apologize for kissing you,” he whispered huskily. “For I wish to do so again. And again. I wish to get lost in the moment, fair Gwendolyn. I wish to get lost inside you.”

  She quivered at the notion, her belly clenching in a sharp ache. She was tempted. So tempted. More than he could ever know. But she could not afford to be foolish now that her life was finally turning around. She had been accepted tonight. Not willingly and not easily, but it had been a first step. She owed it to Dorothea and Emma, and yes, to herself, to try and bring herself away from the fringe of society.

  “Oh, my lord,” she said softly, her voice floating on the night air. “We must never kiss each other again.”

  The viscount’s gaze roved over her features, his breath coming in shallow drafts. “That is far too depressing a way to end an evening.”

  Her heart wrenched, for in truth she agreed. But something in the back of her mind sounded a warning and she knew she must heed it. She was not the kind of woman who could partake in an empty dalliance and that was all he could ever offer her. She paused and looked straight into his eyes, to make certain he understood completely. “Never again.”

  Lord Fairhurst closed his eyes tightly for a moment, then reached down and took both her hands in his.

  “Sleep well, my dearest Gwendolyn. May your dreams be sweet and only of me.”

  He turned and walked away. Her feet remained planted to the ground, her eyes riveted to his back as he climbed into his vehicle. Then the carriage door closed and the coach pulled away. He was leaving.

  A wave of regret welled up in her throat, threatening to choke her. Gwendolyn swallowed it back and gripped the brass knob of the front door so tightly her hand began to hurt. She struggled to fight off the most ridiculous impulse to go after him and ask him to take her on a moonlit walk in the garden.

  Turning blindly, she yanked open the front door and stepped inside the house. Fortunately, there were no servants or family members about. Even though they had lingered in the carriage, she and the viscount had left early enough to beat her sister and aunt and uncle home from the ball.

  Pushing the heavy door shut, Gwendolyn latched it, then leaned against it, listening to the sound of her loudly thumping heart. Thank goodness common sense had prevailed! She had pushed against the line of propriety, and yes, crossed over it, but returned before total disaster had struck.

  The entire situation was highly improper, highly immoral. Lord Fairhurst was married. Despite how seemingly each of her senses was so intensely attuned to his, there was no possible future for them. It would be a brief affair or almost worse, a longer, illicit entangle-ment. Any relationship they formed would throw her into a quagmire from which she might never be able to extract herself.

  The incident tonight must be considered a momentary bit of madness, a euphoric reaction to her success at the Hollingsworth ball. It must never, under any circumstances, happen again. She must never again allow her passion and emotions to sway her morals and principals, no matter how great the temptation, how intense the longing.

  The viscount’s kisses had left her breathless, almost feverish. In that brief, single moment of passion Gwendolyn knew she had felt more alive than all the moments she had ever experienced added together. She was forever changed by it and the uneasy feeling that nothing would ever be the same lingered, the final disturbing thought echoing through her head before sleep claimed her.

  Chapter Eight

  Jason restlessly paced the floor of his bedchamber. He had removed his evening clothes and dismissed Pierce, knowing if the servant stayed any longer he would unfairly bear the brunt of Jason’s foul mood. Things had started out so well this evening. Gwendolyn’s nerves and fear had been almost palpable, but she had conquered them and forged ahead. He was oddly proud of her success, pleased that he had been able to restore some level of dignity to her after four long years of being an outcast.

  With her assistance, he had been able to move easily among the locals, with no one suspecting he was not who he claimed. Surprisingly, he had felt comfortable in the role of viscount, though there were times when having to do as his brother would have were a bit restrictive.

  A few games in the card room would have been an excellent opportunity to engage the gentlemen in casual conversation, but that was not possible, since Jasper no longer gambled. And amazingly, the locals were aware of that fact; a none-too-subtle reminder to Jason that he needed to be very cautious if he wished to pull off this charade.

  Unfortunately, the strides he had made and the success of the evening were overshadowed by his appalling behavior once they had left the Hollingsworths. Once he found himself alone in the dark with Gwendolyn, cocooned inside the privacy of the carriage, he had acted on his impulses and desires in a way his brother never would have considered.

  He had kissed her! What the bloody hell was wrong with him? Was he truly the sex-depraved libertine his twin accused him of being? Did he lack even the basics of moral fortitude? Did he possess no remnant of self-discipline?

  Despite the scandal of her past, Gwendolyn was hardly the free and wanton type of woman who would come easily to a man’s bed. She was the type of woman one married. Which was precisely the type of woman he always avoided. And given that he was impersonating his brother, a married man, there was no question that a relationship with Gwendolyn was an impossibility.

  Jason’s hand curled into a fist. Only a scoundrel of the worst kind made love to a woman who believed all he could offer her was a role as his mistress. It was an insult.

  She should have done far more than push him away. She should have slapped him silly!

  With a sigh of disgust, Jason walked to the window and gazed out at the blackness of the night. He rubbed a hand along his jaw, feeling the roughness of the stubble that had already begun. Had his beard chaffed her delicate skin, leaving behind a telltale redness? It had been too dark to see.

  Whenever he thought about those kisses, he felt very unsettled. He had kissed dozens of women in his lifetime, but taking Gwendolyn in his arms, pressing his lips to hers, teasing her sweetness with his tongue had been a truly moving experience.

  There was fire inside her—fire and passion. All just waiting to be released. He could still taste her lavender-scented flesh
, still hear her moans of pleasure. He cherished the way she melted in his arms, had clung to him as the heat flowed between them. It was far more than sensual pleasure, it was something that struck him on a more profound level.

  With something akin to fear, Jason remembered the one and only time he had ever allowed such tender feelings to stew in his heart. His deep and unconditional love for Elizabeth had left him open and vulnerable to a pain that had nearly brought him to ruin when he discovered she did not return his feelings.

  And now he felt himself again caught in the grip of something that he had long thought unnatural budding inside himself. Could it be possible, even though he had vowed it would never again happen to him?

  Was he falling in love with Gwendolyn Ellingham?

  Gwendolyn awoke the next morning feeling tired and out of sorts. Her sleep had been restless, her dreams unsettling and mildly erotic. Though she remembered no specific details, the sensation of warm masculine lips upon hers, the delightful shiver of pleasure as his tongue glided past her lips, and the heat blossoming throughout her entire body as his sensual touch had invaded her senses remained with her.

  Her mood did not improve as she opened the curtains, allowing a strong shaft of morning light to stream into the bedchamber. Gwendolyn briefly considered returning to bed, but she knew she could not avoid her family forever. Her aunt and uncle would no doubt be filled with questions about last night and waiting for an explanation.

  The rest of the family had returned from the party shortly after Gwendolyn had retired for bed. There had been a soft knock on her bedchamber door, but knowing she would be unable to discuss the evening without recalling the steamy kisses that had ended it, Gwendolyn had hidden beneath the covers, pretending to be asleep. Thankfully, Dorothea had left without trying to rouse her.

  Gwendolyn scrunched her eyes tightly closed as she recalled her cowardly behavior. If she had difficulty facing Dorothea last night, how would she find the courage to deal with her aunt and uncle? She opened her eyes to small slits and considered her options. Unfortunately, there weren’t many.