The Importance of Being Scandalous

by Kimberly Bell

  “Jasper is an expert on the fashionable,” Nick said, settling back on his bed.

  “Now that we’re friends, you’re going to be instantly fashionable,” Jasper told her.

  Amelia couldn’t keep her mouth from lifting at the corners. “Am I?”

  “Quite. But first you have to tell me how you and Wakefield came to know each other. I’m dreadfully jealous, you see. It can’t be a better story than ours.”

  She couldn’t help it; she laughed. Lord Bellamy exuded a carefree feeling that was contagious. With everything going on, she should be desolate, but talking to him was the most fun she’d had in weeks.

  Amelia settled against the chair back, determined to enjoy herself while she could. “Well, we’re neighbors and we came across each other one day and he was quite rude.”

  “You were trespassing,” Nick contributed.

  “I was six. The intricacies of our property lines were not as clear to me as they were to your advanced nine-year-old mind.”

  “And you two became fast friends?”

  “Hardly,” Nick said. “She hit me.”

  Amelia stuck her tongue out at him to make him laugh.

  “Truly?” Jasper asked.

  “Square in the mouth. She’s quite vicious.”

  “Not without provocation!” Amelia swung a pillow in his direction, jeopardizing her point. “He said something horrible about my sister.”

  “The plot thickens.” Jasper looked between the two of them. “So you trespassed and he slandered your relative. And then what?”

  “And then I spent the rest of the summer begging her forgiveness.”

  “Which involved a great deal of trespassing onto our property.”

  “Nicholas, you hypocrite.” Jasper brought his hand up to his cravat in mock dismay.

  “He is, isn’t he?” Amelia settled farther back into the pillows in triumph.

  “And all this time, you two remained purely friends? Nicholas never declared his affection and asked for your hand?”

  Amelia sputtered, nearly choking on her surprise. “God, no. He’s a shameless flirt, but he doesn’t mean it.”

  Nick cleared his throat, finding something on his sleeve deeply interesting.

  The viscount’s eyebrows rose impossibly high. “Nicholas? A shameless flirt?”

  This time, Nick coughed, sending a pointed look Jasper’s way.

  “Of course. He’s forever teasing me and saying inappropriate things. He always has. It’s quite rude.” She followed the looks being exchanged between the two men. “He wasn’t that way in France?”

  Jasper returned his attention to her with a dazzling smile. “Of course he was; I must have forgotten.”

  “Jasper often forgets things that aren’t expressly about him.”

  “Quite so,” the viscount agreed.

  “I’m afraid,” Amelia said with a dramatic sigh, “I’ve never been the sort of girl Nicholas prefers.”

  Lord Bellamy looked between her and Nick, smirking. “Oh?”

  “Since when?” Nick said at the same time.

  How ridiculous. He should know better than anyone that she wasn’t his type. “Since your parents hired that Welsh dairymaid when you were fourteen and you spent the entire spring extolling her virtues and trailing after her.”

  “That doesn’t… I didn’t…” It was Nicholas’s turn to blush, and Amelia found herself enjoying it immensely.

  “A Welsh dairymaid. How risqué.” Lord Bellamy grinned.

  “That’s it.” Nicholas stood up, holding out his hand to her. “You’re clearly feeling better, so it’s time for me to take you back before someone finds you in here.”

  Amelia didn’t want to go. She wanted to stay here, laughing and forgetting about her troubles, but Nicholas was right. It wouldn’t do for anyone else to discover her in his room. She’d been as lucky as she was going to get with Jasper. “It was lovely to meet you, Lord Bellamy.”

  Nick pulled her toward the door. “Watch out. If you’re not careful he’ll follow you home.”

  “Maybe I’d like that,” Amelia joked.

  “I guarantee you would,” Lord Bellamy told her.

  They shared a grin that was cut off when Nicholas closed the thick door of his bedroom behind them. There were no more jokes as they snuck silently through the long hall of the gallery and down the backstairs, but the smile never left Amelia’s face.

  Chapter Five

  They were sitting at breakfast when Jasper leaned surreptitiously across the table.

  “I think there’s something amiss with your mother,” he said under his breath, using his glass to shield his lips.

  Nicholas looked over. Sure enough, his mother was rigid as a board at the far end of the table, staring at the post like it had turned into a viper ready to strike. It was nice having Jasper there to sit across from him in Philip’s old chair. Without him, it had just been the three of them, sitting what felt like miles apart in total silence.

  Jasper kicked him under the table.

  Sneaking another sideways glance, Nick saw she still hadn’t moved. “Is something the matter, Mother?”

  She continued to stare at the card sitting in front of her, oblivious to the question.

  Lord Wakefield stuck his head over the paper from the opposite end. “Lavinia.”

  Lady Wakefield shook herself, looking up at them all as if they’d only just arrived.

  “Is something amiss?” Lord Wakefield called, actually going to the trouble of setting his paper down. It was one of the good days and he was back to being himself. For the moment.

  “The Bishops,” she explained, spitting the word, “have invited us to their daughter’s engagement party.”

  “That’s a bit short notice, isn’t it?” Since there was no imminent national or familial crisis, Lord Wakefield returned to his periodical.

  “As if that was the most offensive thing about it!”

  “If you don’t want to go, refuse.”

  In all his life, Nicholas had only seen his mother lose her refinement when the Bishops were involved. It was part of the reason he’d sought them out. As he watched her sputter and glare at his father now, it was everything Nicholas could do not to smile. It didn’t last long, though. Nicholas realized his mother now had more reason than spite to refuse. Had they entertained any invitations since his father became ill? They certainly hadn’t since he’d been home. Soon the Wakefields would find themselves as isolated as the Bishops.

  “Of course I shall refuse. Honestly, Arthur.” She sifted through the stack, her face growing even more pinched. “Lord Bellamy, I believe you’ve received one as well.”

  “Excellent! I do love a good party.”

  Lady Wakefield recovered her decorum and handed a piece of ivory cardstock to one of the footmen, who set down the pitcher he was holding to transfer it to Jasper. “I didn’t realize you and Amelia Bishop were acquainted.”

  “Oh yes, we’re the best of friends.”

  And that was the nicest thing Jasper could possibly have done for Amelia—and by extension, Nick. Regardless of how much Nicholas’s mother hated the Bishops, she would not deliberately offend a duke’s heir.

  “Nicholas, will you accompany me? I believe the invitation is for both of us.”

  He took a page from Jasper’s earlier method and kicked him. His mother might not be looking quite so murderous, but it was still an exceptionally sore subject.

  Jasper raised an eyebrow.

  “I don’t think so, no. I suspect I’ll be too busy.” One was always too busy to celebrate the engagement of the love of one’s life to another man.

  “Certainly you can make time. You do wish her all happiness in her marriage, don’t you, Nick?” Jasper’s expression was wickedly calculated.

  Suddenly, both of Nick’s parents were paying keen attention to their exchange.

  “You’re her oldest friend,” Jasper insisted. “It would appear quite strange if you didn’t go and give your
blessing. What might Lord Montrose think? Or the rest of the guests?”

  “Jas,” Nick warned.

  “Don’t you think that could give the wrong impression, Lady Wakefield?” Jasper turned his most charming smile on her.

  His mother was immune to Jasper’s charm but not, apparently, to his implications. “Obviously, you must go, Nicholas. Even though it would be ludicrous, we mustn’t give the gossipmongers any reason to start up.”

  It was far from ludicrous and everyone at the table—never mind most of the county—knew it.

  After his parents had left to pursue their separate interests for the day, Nicholas threw down his napkin. “What the bloody hell was that?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You know why I can’t go, but now you’ve trapped me into it.” Going to that party would be about as enjoyable as attending his own execution. Every time Montrose spoke to her, touched her, every time someone congratulated them and wished them many happy, healthy children…

  “Yes, I do know why you don’t want to go.” Jasper sipped his coffee. “And it’s why I think you should. You might be willing to push down your feelings and commit yourself to a life of misery, but I want better for you, Nicholas Wakefield.”

  “Nothing will come of me going to the party. It won’t change anything.”

  “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

  He had everything to worry about, not the least of which being that he might end up tossing Amelia over his shoulder and running off with her like some cave-dwelling barbarian.

  “If it makes you feel better, I didn’t do it solely to torture you. You said yourself her sister won’t be there. She needs you.”

  Nicholas spent the rest of his morning damning Jasper De Vere to hell and back, because he was right.

  Bravery wasn’t Amelia’s strong suit. Julia was the one who egged her into doing things she couldn’t bear to do. Julia was the one who made her stand up to her fears. But Julia couldn’t help her with this. It had been three days and they still hadn’t spoken to each other.

  She went to the keepsakes box on her dressing table, digging through the dried flowers and scraps of ribbon until she found a small piece of paper with a wax seal on it. The raised parts of the seal were worn down from years of her thumb brushing across their edges, but it didn’t matter. She knew what it was; the seal of the Marquess of Wakefield.

  One summer day when she was ten, all three of them had gone to town together—Amelia, Julia, and Nicholas. It had started as such a wonderful outing. But then one of the ladies of the county had seen them buying ribbons. She was horrible. She’d insisted the shop owner refuse Amelia and Julia service, that they were disgraceful, and he’d done as she asked. It was the single most mortifying experience of Amelia’s life. They’d done nothing to deserve it. Nothing beyond existing. They were only children.

  The next day Nicholas had come to visit, and he’d brought her a small piece of paper, stamped with the Marquess’s seal on one side and writing on the other. It read:

  Lady Amelia Bishop is the bravest, most honorable woman in England.

  The house of Wakefield is eternally devoted to her happiness and welfare.

  It was in Nicholas’s handwriting, of course. Julia had received one as well. He must have snuck in and used his father’s seal when no one was looking. He’d told Amelia she couldn’t possibly be disgraceful. That the Lords of Wakefield were pillars of respectability, and if she ever had difficulty holding her head high, to remember that she carried their seal of approval.

  She re-rolled the paper, like she’d done a hundred times, and wrapped a section of hair around it until it was hidden at the base of her neck. There would be a number of people at the engagement party who didn’t think she was good enough for Embry. Amelia could use all the encouragement she could get.

  All the help she could get. Damn. She left her room, making the short trip down the hallway to Julia’s room. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door.

  “Come in.”

  The skirt of her gown swished against the doorframe as she moved past it.

  “Oh,” Julia said, looking up from the easel where she was painting a scene of the garden below. “It’s you.”

  “It’s me.” Amelia stood still by the end of the bed, studying the exotic animals embroidered in sweeping scenes across the canopy fabric. Julia hadn’t insisted she leave, but any sudden movement might break the fragile peace.

  Her sister looked her dress over with a frown. “You don’t like pink, or that style.”

  “It’s the only one I have that doesn’t look awful with Embry’s necklace.”

  The corner of Julia’s mouth twitched. “It’s a beautiful necklace.”

  “For someone.”

  Damn. Awkward silence filled the space between them. It made Amelia sick to her stomach. She shouldn’t have said anything about the necklace not suiting her, but they had never not been able to be honest with each other. A tear built up and escaped down her cheek.

  Julia sighed, setting down her brush and moving to sit on the end of the bed. “It’s all right, Mia.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Fine, it’s not all right. But that’s all right.”

  Amelia sniffled. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Yes, it does.” Julia sighed. “Do I wish I was the one with the handsome suitor, getting ready to announce my engagement to all and sundry? Of course. But I’m not, and since I can’t be, I’d rather it be you than anyone else.”

  “What if I don’t want it to be me?”

  Embry was a stranger. All she truly knew was that he wanted to marry her and he liked to read. She didn’t know how many children he hoped to have, whether he preferred life in the country to life in London, how his family felt about his engagement to one of the scandalous Bishops. So much could change once they married. He would be her husband. Her whole future would be in his hands. Amelia didn’t even know what type of books he liked.

  Julia’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t yell. “Don’t be a coward, Mia.”

  “I’m not.”

  “You are. Stop waiting for life to happen. It’s here and it’s happening. To you. Enjoy it.”

  Enjoy it, like it was that simple. And it was, for Julia, but it had never been that way for Amelia. She’d never wanted anything beyond life in the Berkshires with her family.

  “What if I can’t?”

  “Learn. This time next year, if we’re both still here placidly marching toward spinsterhood, I will never forgive you.”

  She wouldn’t, either. Julia could hold a grudge for eternity if she set her mind to it. Amelia wiped her eyes with the back of her gloves and sighed. “I wish you’d come down.”

  Julia shook her head. “I won’t be far, and you know I’m happy for you. You don’t need me there.”

  Amelia disagreed, but even if she didn’t need Julia, she wanted her. No one else mattered nearly as much. “Will you wait up for me?”

  “Of course.” Julia tugged on one of her curls, careful not to dislodge the pins. “Who else am I going to get every last detail from?”

  Amelia groaned. “I’m being punished. Twice.”

  “Mm-hmm.” Julia leaned forward and kissed her cheek. “I’m far too spoiled to be unhappy by myself.”

  “Tyrant.”

  Julia nudged her with a slippered foot. “Go on. You have a party to host.”

  Amelia left feeling better, but she still couldn’t muster up anything close to excitement. There was something fundamentally wrong with her. She was announcing her engagement. She should be happy, but all she wanted was for it to be over.

  Seeing the house filled with guests was an unsettling experience for Nicholas. Every time a belled skirt or the tails of a gentleman’s coat brushed some piece of furniture he’d played on as a child, he had to stop himself from yelling at them all that they didn’t belong there. And that was before he ever saw Amelia.

  She looked lovely. She a
lso looked extremely uncomfortable. As he sipped his punch, yet another stranger touched her elbow and she flinched, covering it with a smile. His fingers tightened on the glass.

  “Steady, now.” Jasper peered around the room as if nothing was amiss.

  Nicholas said under his breath, “It’s no good, Jas. I can’t do it.”

  “You can and you will.”

  Nick’s argument was disrupted by a hush falling over the half of the room closest to the door. The last two people he’d have ever expected appeared at the entrance of the ballroom. Lord and Lady Wakefield stood there, looking every bit as uncomfortable as Amelia had.

  “What the devil?” Jasper whispered.

  Lord Bishop was the first to recover. “Lord Wakefield. Lady Wakefield. So good of you to come.”

  “Thank you for inviting us,” Lady Wakefield said with perfect formality.

  “Why—”

  “They’re here to check up on me,” Nicholas told Jasper. “They must not have trusted I wouldn’t do something rash.”

  “Well, that’s not very sporting of them.”

  His parents made their way toward him, exchanging greetings with their acquaintances on the way. “Nicholas.”

  “Lord Wakefield. Lady Wakefield. I hadn’t expected to see you here.”

  “Your father and I thought it would be nice to get out of the house for a change.”

  They were there to make sure Nicholas behaved himself; anything else they said was a blatant lie. Nicholas could only assume they hadn’t told him they were coming sooner because his mother couldn’t be certain Lord Wakefield would be in his right mind when the time came.

  “Lord and Lady Wakefield.” Lord Montrose joined their group, bowing over Lady Wakefield’s offered hand. “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure since Duke Atherton’s dinner party two seasons ago. We never got to finish our discussion on foreign relations with the Americans.”

  There was no reason the sound of the man’s voice should make Nicholas furious. No reason at all, except that he was stealing the love of Nicholas’s life. Keep it together, Wakefield.