Summer of Scandal

by Syrie James

  Madeleine’s eyes blinked open in frustration. This was maddening. She couldn’t even think about Oakley, without Saunders interfering!

  Her thoughts darted to their kiss in the cave. A sudden heat settled over her like a blanket, accompanied by a bundle of emotions and sensations she knew she shouldn’t be feeling. “Lexie: How can I know if what I feel for Lord Oakley is not mere liking, but is actually love?”

  “I think love defies explanation,” Alexandra replied.

  “Please try. You’re madly in love with Thomas, anyone can see that. What does it feel like?”

  “I don’t know,” Alexandra began slowly. “It’s as if Thomas is my kindred spirit. My other half, a part of my soul. Making him happy is more important to me than my own happiness. Because when he’s happy, it fills me with so much joy.” She gave Madeleine a shrug. “But that is after almost a year of marriage, dearest, of being as close as two people can be on a daily basis. What I feel now is much deeper than what I felt when we first met.”

  “What did you feel at first?”

  “I suppose it started with physical attraction. Do you find Lord Oakley attractive?”

  “I do,” Madeleine assured her.

  “Do you admire and respect him? Do you feel joyful in his company?”

  “Yes.” Madeleine thought of all the pleasant times she and Lord Oakley had spent together. “He’s kind to animals and dotes on his mother.”

  Alexandra hesitated. “Dotes on her?”

  “Not overly so. In a good way.”

  “All right then, these are all marks in his favor. Do you have interests in common?”

  “Yes. We both enjoy music and riding and a good glass of wine. He’s an excellent dancer.”

  “And?”

  “Well. He’s very interested in architecture. He knows everything there is to know about buttresses, colonnettes, gables, and rose windows.” Madeleine paused. “He’s also fond of hunting and talks a lot about guns and hounds. But I could get used to that.”

  Alexandra seemed to choose her next words carefully. “Did you tell him about your aspirations?”

  “Yes. He doesn’t seem to mind about my writing.”

  “Doesn’t seem to mind? That doesn’t sound like a very enthusiastic seal of approval.”

  “Well, at least he doesn’t disapprove. He’s not much of a reader, but I haven’t met many gentlemen this Season who were.” As Madeleine said it, her thoughts veered to Lord Saunders again. How complimentary he’d been about the book she was writing. How he’d rescued her notes from the pond.

  “Do you think of him frequently when you are apart?”

  “Yes,” Madeleine heard herself say. As the word rushed from her mouth, she realized she was referring to Saunders, not Oakley.

  Alexandra smiled, responding to her unintended enthusiasm. “Well then. Now we’re getting somewhere. Tell me: When you’re with Lord Oakley, does your heart race? Does his touch make your nerves tingle?”

  Madeleine faltered, her thoughts still fixed upon the man who had made her feel precisely that way—on a wild horseback ride, and that morning in the cave. She again recalled that illicit kiss. Had her body tingled? Oh, yes. Madeleine felt a blush creep up to the roots of her hair. “I—I don’t know.”

  Alexandra studied her. “Why are you blushing?”

  “Am I blushing?” Her hands flew to her cheeks.

  “Yes. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Have you kissed him?”

  “Kissed who?”

  “Who do you think? Lord Oakley.”

  Madeleine’s heart pounded. “No. No, I haven’t kissed Lord Oakley. But . . . but . . .” Her hands covered her eyes now. “I have kissed Lord Saunders.”

  “What? You kissed Charles Grayson?”

  Madeleine nodded, mortified, still unable to look at her sister. “In point of fact, he kissed me. But I definitely kissed him back.”

  Alexandra sounded astonished. “When?”

  “This morning. Down at the beach. There was this cave . . .”

  “What were you and Lord Saunders doing alone together in a cave?”

  Madeleine uncovered her face. “He was showing me a wishing pool. And . . . and . . .” She couldn’t go on.

  “What kind of kiss are we talking about? Surely it was just a brief kiss?”

  Madeleine shook her head. “It wasn’t brief. It was . . . oh, Lexie. It was positively scandalous. And it was everything I’ve ever dreamt a kiss would be.”

  “I see.” Alexandra nodded slowly. “I take it this was your first kiss?”

  “My first real kiss, of course! What kind of girl do you think I am?”

  Alexandra’s cheeks reddened at that, and for a moment she seemed lost in memory. “I was just asking,” she said quickly. Then: “Are you attracted to Lord Saunders?”

  “No! Yes. No! I mean, I know I shouldn’t be.” Madeleine sighed in confusion. “I thought I disliked him at first. But this week, I’ve gotten to know him better.”

  Alexandra studied her. “And?”

  “And . . . he’s smart and kind and generous. He is very interested in science. He’s an artisan as well.”

  “What kind of artisan?”

  “He makes decorative objects. Hairpins and the most intricate sculptures made of clock parts.”

  “Thomas mentioned that Charles used to make such things when they were children,” Alexandra mused. “I didn’t know he was still involved in that.”

  “He has to hide it because his father is adamantly against it. The same way Thomas used to have to hide his work as a portrait artist.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad.”

  “This rule about peers being too high and mighty to engage in trade, it’s so stupid and limiting. Lord Saunders is a truly gifted artisan.”

  Alexandra looked at her. “You do like him.”

  “Oh, Lexie. I suppose I do.”

  “He must like you if he kissed you.”

  “I don’t know about that. All Season long, the ladies said he is a great flirt. He made it clear that kissing me was a mistake. He actually apologized for it.”

  “As well he should! He took liberties with you that were most improper.” Unaccountably, Alexandra’s cheeks reddened again.

  Madeleine suddenly understood why. “Lexie! Now you’re the one who’s blushing. Did you and Thomas engage in similar . . . improprieties . . . before you were engaged?”

  Alexandra looked away in embarrassment, her lips twitching slightly. Finally, a laugh escaped her and she admitted, “I shouldn’t really speak of this, but—if it will help you to know it—then yes. Thomas did . . . kiss me . . . several times in fact, before he proposed.”

  “Several times!” Madeleine was shocked.

  “The first time, he also apologized and said it could never happen again. But things changed, Maddie. They could change for you, too.”

  “Nothing is going to change in this scenario. Nor should it. There can never be anything between Lord Saunders and myself.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s Lady Sophie’s intended.”

  “Who is Lady Sophie?”

  “Lord Saunders’s cousin.” Madeleine filled her sister in on the relevant details about Lady Sophie.

  “From what you say,” Alexandra pointed out slowly, “although there may be an expectation that they’ll wed, they are not yet engaged.”

  “They will be. Sophie loves Lord Saunders. And Saunders said he is prepared to ‘do his duty.’”

  “‘Do his duty’? That’s hardly a profession of love.”

  “Even so, I won’t come between them.” Madeleine speared her sister with a look. “Have you forgotten what happened at my coming out ball? What Pearl did to me?”

  “I haven’t forgotten.”

  “I would never do that to anyone. I like Sophie. I couldn’t bear to hurt her.”

  “I understand.” Alexandra paused. “Perhaps Lord Saunders wil
l marry his cousin, and if so, I hope they’ll be very happy. But perhaps he won’t. In the meantime, Maddie: this thing that happened between you and Charles—you can’t just ignore it. These feelings you have must be explored.”

  “What do you mean, explored?”

  “I mean, you can’t marry Oakley if you’re attracted to someone—anyone—else.”

  Madeleine shook her head vigorously. “I’m not going to explore my attraction to Lord Saunders. I’m going to stay as far away from him as humanly possible.”

  Alexandra gave a disappointed sigh. She seemed to be lost in thought for a moment. Madeleine thought she detected a brief gleam in her sister’s eyes, as if she were planning something, but it disappeared as quickly as it had come. “Okay,” she said finally. “But even if you leave Lord Saunders out of this, there remains your responsibility to Lord Oakley. Marriage is forever. If you accept him, you must love him more than any man you have ever met.”

  “I agree. But how am I supposed to know if Lord Oakley is my forever love, when he’s off in Italy or France or somewhere?”

  “How long will he be gone?”

  “Three months.”

  “Then use that three months to search your soul. You’ve spent enough time in his company to form an opinion of him. He asked for your hand, which tells me that he has excellent taste.”

  Madeleine laughed. “You are biased.”

  “They say, after all, that absence makes the heart grow fonder. By the end of summer, if he’s the right man for you, you’ll know.” Taking Madeleine’s hands in hers, Alexandra added: “Meanwhile, you must stay here with us.”

  The offer filled Madeleine with delight. “May I? Really? For the entire summer?”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d like more.”

  “Oh, Lexie. I’d love that. I’ve missed you all so much. It would mean everything to me to be here when the baby comes, and to help out afterward. But don’t you need to ask Thomas?”

  Alexandra smiled. “I already have. He’d love to have you here, and I know the girls would, too.”

  A thought occurred to Madeleine. “What about Mother?”

  “What about Mother?”

  “She spent so much on my clothes and the hotel in London, and worked so hard to make connections. I’m not officially engaged. She won’t like me staying down here. And if I don’t end up accepting Lord Oakley, she’ll never forgive me for missing out on the rest of the Season.”

  Alexandra’s eyes blazed like blue flames. “After what I went through last year, I hope you know better than to let Mother force you into doing anything, especially marrying a man you don’t love. You’ve been a model daughter, Maddie. It’s time to think about yourself for a change, to do what’s best for you.”

  Madeleine nodded, a quiet excitement building within her at the prospect of spending the summer at Polperran House. “Maybe I will.”

  After saying good night to Alexandra, Madeleine retreated to her spacious guest room, where she penned a letter to her mother, explaining her plans for the summer.

  As she climbed into bed and lay back against the pillow, Madeleine let go a sigh of relief. She felt as if a great weight had been lifted. The past few years had been utterly exhausting. The prospect of a real vacation, here in Cornwall with her beloved family, seemed like a dream come true. Surely, by the end of summer, she would be ready to make a decision about Lord Oakley.

  Madeleine closed her eyes, reminding herself of Oakley’s many attributes. She drifted off into a lovely dream. A dream in which she was bathing in a blue-green pool in a luminescent cave. A handsome man was immersed in the semidarkness of the water nearby. It was Lord Oakley.

  Madeleine boldly swam up to him and wrapped her arms around his body. “Kiss me,” she whispered into his ear.

  Oakley’s mouth took possession of hers. Madeleine returned his kisses with increasing passion. As they kissed, Madeleine was once again aware of a strange, warm sensation building between her thighs. Without quite understanding how she knew it, she recognized this new feeling as sexual desire. Panting, Madeleine pulled back from the kiss to look her lover in the eye.

  She awoke with a start, her pulse racing.

  The man she’d been kissing wasn’t Lord Oakley. It was Lord Saunders.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “That will do very well. Thank you.” Charles gave a nod, approving the new windows the workman had installed in one of his tenants’ cottages. After paying the man and exchanging a few words with the grateful tenant and his wife, Charles took his leave.

  As he rode away, Charles mentally ticked off this final duty on his checklist. He had spent all day yesterday at the mine, ensuring that things were moving there like a well-oiled machine. This morning he had visited several farmers in their fields to see how they were getting on with their new equipment, and committed the afternoon to checking up on various repairs such as this one.

  At last, he was almost done. Just one more stop at the manor house to see his father. Then, finally, he could get back to his shop and the other work that pulled at him, ever-present in his mind.

  His work, however, wasn’t the only thing occupying his mind recently.

  The past two days and nights, ever since Miss Atherton left, had been a study in frustration.

  Try as he might, Charles couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was different from any woman he had ever met. And not just because she was so highly educated and well-read—although that did set her apart as someone very special. There was something else about her that stood out. Maybe it was her open curiosity about life, her avid interest in so many subjects. Or maybe it was her intelligence and wit, which shone with every question she asked and every observation she made. He had never felt so alive as he had when they were conversing. He could talk to her for hours on end, he believed, and never run out of things to say.

  On top of that, there was a kind of physical attraction which he had never before experienced. He had felt drawn to her at first sight, and the feeling had never wavered.

  And that kiss they had shared in the cave! He couldn’t get it out of his head.

  Charles had kissed many women. But kissing Miss Atherton had been different. He had sensed, by her initial response, that she’d never been kissed before. But oh, how quickly she had learned. Although they’d shared no more than a kiss, it had been so passionate, so infinitely arousing, he almost felt as though he’d stolen her virginity. Just thinking about it made him grow hard.

  As Tesla trotted on, the motion of the horse just served to remind him of the time he had ridden on horseback with Miss Atherton. Holding her tightly against his chest. His lips at her nape, drinking in the scent of her wet skin. The memory did nothing to ease the smoldering sexual tension that rose within his body.

  He longed, more than anything in the world, to see her again. To hold her in his arms again. To kiss her again. To once more feel that luscious, beautiful body beneath his hands and explore its every inviting curve.

  But of course he knew full well that never could, never would happen.

  We both got carried away. I will never breathe a word about this. Let’s pretend it never happened.

  The words Miss Atherton had spoken after the kiss reverberated inside Charles’s head, making him frown. She was right: they had gotten carried away. Or more to the point, he had gotten carried away. He was the one who had initiated the kiss. She had definitely kissed him back, and he sensed that she had enjoyed it every bit as much as he had. But he took full responsibility for his actions.

  He should never have kissed her. Yes, he was attracted to her in a manner that almost bordered on obsession. But his attraction wasn’t right and never had been. They both had obligations to other people. After that kiss, damn it, he’d been consumed by guilt. And from the look on her face after he’d apologized, so had she.

  He had let a moment of passion get out of hand. Thank God things had not progressed any further than they had.

  Passi
on was a dangerous thing. Giving in to a momentary passion had almost ruined his life. Never again, he reminded himself. Never again would he let sexual desire overcome reason.

  Not that such a thing could ever happen with Miss Atherton. He couldn’t imagine Miss Atherton deliberately trying to seduce him, or taking advantage of him after the fact if she did. But then, he had never expected it of Miss Townsend, either. One never knew what other people were capable of.

  Arriving at the Trevelyan Manor stables, Charles dismounted, handed Tesla to the groom, and strode off toward the house, heaving a sigh. He had to stop thinking about Miss Atherton.

  A safe, sane relationship with a modest, decorous Englishwoman, that’s what he needed.

  Sophie was calm and grounded, the proper balance for his sometimes chaotic distractedness. His regard for her, admittedly, was more akin to that which he held for his sisters. But that was not necessarily a bad thing. Better men than he had shared marriage beds with women for whom they held only distant feelings, and sired heirs. He could do it. Of course he could.

  Charles entered the house and dashed upstairs to see his father. The marquess was sitting up in bed, eating a Cornish pasty and washing it down with ale. He didn’t seem to be enjoying the meal much, though. In fact, he looked more poorly than Charles had ever seen him.

  They barely exchanged ten words before his father said he wanted to sleep.

  Charles left the room, more worried than ever. How much time did the old man have left? Not much, from the look of things. Could Charles truly wait until the end of summer to make good on his promise to his father, and make his engagement official?

  He hoped so. There was so much he wanted to accomplish before he tied himself down.

  Checking his watch as he descended the stairs, Charles realized that tea would be served in half an hour. If he stayed, it would give him a chance to say hello to his sisters, which he would very much enjoy. On the other hand, it would mean sitting in the saloon for a good hour conversing with his mother and Sophie. Who would keep sending hopeful glances in his direction, hanging on his every word.

  All the while, he knew, his mind would keep drifting back to another woman. A woman who had left Trevelyan Manor, and whom he might never see again. Except in his dreams.