Born to Scandal

by Diane Gaston

  ‘Perhaps not,’ she responded noncommittally.

  ‘The panther seemed to captivate you,’ he tried again.

  ‘The panther,’ she repeated absently, but she did not explain.

  * * *

  The children were delighted to return to the town house and to the abundance of toys waiting for them upstairs. They barely noticed when Mr Parker immediately begged for their father’s attention on an urgent matter.

  Anna was left with nothing to occupy her, though. She had no wish to impose lessons on the children after the depressing outing to the Tower, but she could not bear to be confined like the cats in their cages.

  No matter her good intentions or her promises, it had been agony to be in Lord Brentmore’s presence.

  ‘My lord. If you please, I do need to speak with you,’ Mr Parker said in a clipped voice.

  The marquess crouched down to the children. ‘I will try to come upstairs later.’ He gave them hugs.

  ‘Please, my lord. Come to the library.’ Mr Parker was full of anxious impatience.

  Lord Brentmore glanced at Anna before turning to follow Mr Parker.

  She spoke up. ‘My lord, may I have some time off? Eppy can keep an eye on the children.’

  He turned back to her and she saw in his eyes the heat of passion they were trying so hard to ignore. ‘Of course you may, Anna,’ he said in a low voice.

  The children ran up the stairs and Anna started to follow them, to make certain they were settled in before she left.

  ‘One moment, Anna,’ Lord Brentmore called to her.

  He left Mr Parker and walked back to her. She waited for him on the first step, her heart racing at his approach. When he reached her, her face was even with his and their eyes connected.

  Without looking away, he took her hand and placed several coins in her palm. ‘Buy something for yourself, Anna. A book. A hat. Anything that pleases you.’

  Another dagger of kindness. ‘Thank you, my lord,’ she murmured.

  He held her gaze. ‘Do not linger past two o’clock.’

  ‘I will not.’

  Men loitered on Bond Street and around the shops after two. Respectable women did not visit the shops at that hour.

  He closed her fingers over the coins and squeezed her hand before releasing it and walking swiftly away.

  Clutching the coins, warm from his hand, Anna climbed the stairway to tell Eppy and the children that she was going out. The children were already busy playing, Cal with his soldiers, Dory with the doll house.

  ‘I’ll keep a good eye on them, never you fear,’ Eppy said.

  As she walked away from Eppy, Anna finally looked in her hand.

  He had given her five pounds! Never in her whole life had she possessed five pounds of her own. Goodness! Her salary for the whole year was only thirty pounds. She could buy a whole wall full of books for five pounds.

  She put two pounds away with her other savings and carried the other three coins in her reticule. A few moments later she was walking towards New Bond Street. The weather was still cool for August, even as noon approached. She was glad she’d worn her spencer.

  She walked past linen drapers and haberdashers, confectioners and watchmakers, shops she and Charlotte had visited when they’d first arrived in London. It seemed such a long time ago, not merely months.

  She stopped in Griffin and Son to purchase a new pair of gloves and some hosiery. She peeked in the jewellery shops and admired glittering necklaces and bracelets, the sorts of items a gentleman might give a lady. As a betrothal gift, perhaps.

  She quickly turned away.

  At the stationers, she purchased new sketchbooks for the children and, on a whim, a journal, pen and ink for herself. She opened her heart to the simple pleasure of having money to spend and lovely things to purchase with it.

  Her main intent was to visit Hatchard’s Bookshop on Piccadilly to pick out a book for her very own. Once inside the shop, however, she could find nothing she wanted. A few short months ago, any book would have been a delight and all of them would have interested her. Now her mind seemed too restless to read.

  She walked along the street to Jermyn Street and entered the Floris perfumery.

  A clerk dressed almost as finely as a gentleman looked up from behind the counter. ‘May I be of assistance, miss?’

  ‘I would like a scent. Something new.’

  This was frivolous indeed. She’d never purchased perfumery before, although she’d helped Charlotte make selections. Anna considered herself fortunate to have the lavender water she and Charlotte made themselves.

  He sniffed. ‘You wear lavender. An excellent scent, I agree, but for a young lady such as yourself, we have mixed something special.’

  He placed a drop of scent on a piece of paper and lifted it to her nose.

  It smelled light and floral, like being in a garden surrounded by flowers. ‘Rose, obviously. And iris?’ she guessed.

  ‘Very good, miss, with a hint of jasmine.’

  It was a lovely scent. ‘Yes, that is perfect. I will have it. And some French-milled soap, please.’ She might as well indulge herself completely.

  ‘Would you like the scent in a throwaway? An étui? Or a larger bottle?’

  Who knew when she might have another chance to spend without worry? A throwaway was a mere sample. An etui would be gone in a matter of weeks, even if she conserved it.

  ‘A larger bottle,’ she responded.

  He showed her a range of pretty bottles. She selected one and paid him a pound. He returned her change on a velvet tray.

  She’d never truly realised the power money gave a person. It was freeing to purchase whatever one desired. No wonder wealthy aristocrats spent great amounts on unnecessary things. It almost restored her to her old self. Happy and content.

  She left the shop smiling as a lady and gentleman were preparing to enter.

  ‘You!’ the lady exclaimed.

  Lord and Lady Lawton. She’d never dreamed they would be in London. Not in August. The plan had been for them to be in Brighton for the summer.

  Anna curtsied. ‘My lord. My lady.’ She could not look at them. Could not look at Lord Lawton. Her father.

  ‘What are you doing in London?’ Lady Lawton demanded.

  Anna reverted to old habits, saying or doing nothing to provoke Lady Lawton. ‘My duties as governess.’

  Her ladyship sniffed. ‘As governess? What governess comes to London?’

  Anna, eyes downcast, replied as if this were not a rhetorical question, ‘I do not know, ma’am.’

  But she glanced up at Lord Lawton, who did not look upon her any differently than he’d always done. With little interest. It suddenly infuriated her.

  She straightened and looked him in the eye. ‘I presume you were informed of my mother’s death?’

  His face turned red.

  Lady Lawton said, ‘Yes. Our condolences.’ She made an annoyed gesture.

  The poor woman. Made to endure seeing her husband’s bastard child every day, the constant companion of her cherished daughter. Anna pitied her.

  Her ire was confined to Lord Lawton. ‘Did you attend the funeral, my lord?’ She knew he had not.

  He could not look at her. ‘Impossible. Too busy.’

  ‘A pity,’ said Anna, ‘after all her service to you.’

  Lady Lawton made a shocked sound and Lord Lawton actually looked at Anna, as if seeing her for the first time. He now realised she knew who he really was, she was convinced.

  Anna curtsied again. ‘I am delaying your visit to the shop. Good day. Please give my regards to Charlotte.’

  She walked away without waiting for permission to take her leave.

  Perhaps she would tell of this meeting when she and Lord Brentmore dined this evening. He was the only one who could appreciate her small triumph.

  Or maybe she would say nothing of it. It felt too much like a return to their previous intimacy.

  * * *

  It turned out
she did not have to make the choice. Lord Brentmore had been summoned to his club to discuss some Parliamentary matter. Davies conveyed his apologies to her. He would dine at the club and be home late.

  ‘I believe I will have dinner with the children, then,’ Anna told the butler.

  She did not want to be alone with her thoughts, with her loneliness.

  This was merely a sample of what life would be like. His life would be among the ton and with his wife. At best she would see him with the children. She might not even be able to consult with him about the children. Likely she would report to his new marchioness. She would never be able to share her small triumphs and trials with him, and she had no one else to tell.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next day Brent saw the children and Anna briefly at breakfast and heard all about how they played with the new toys. Brent promised Cal he would help him set up the soldiers and show him how the real battle unfolded, but he did not know when he could manage it.

  Parker commanded much of his time out of necessity. One of his estates had been badly managed and there was much to be done to rectify the problems. Brent could not postpone addressing these issues because his tenants’ lives depended upon his actions.

  No sooner had Parker left the library than Davies entered. ‘You have a caller, m’lord.’

  It was early for callers. ‘Who is it?’

  Davies handed him the calling card. ‘Mr Kenneth Yates, m’lord.’

  Brent’s gaze flew up. ‘What the devil does he want?’

  Davies—and everyone else—knew precisely who Kenneth Yates was—the man Eunice was chasing when she suffered the fatal fall from her horse.

  ‘He did not tell me the purpose of his visit, m’lord,’ Davies replied.

  Brent rubbed his face. He might as well get this over with. If Yates was back in the country, it would be only a matter of time before he would have to confront him. Better the first time be in private.

  Brent rose. ‘Send him in, Davies. I will see him here.’

  A moment later Davies announced him. ‘Mr Kenneth Yates, m’lord.’

  Yates entered the room and the door closed behind him. He and Brent stared at each other before either of them spoke.

  Yates finally said, ‘Thank you for seeing me, Brent.’

  The two men had known each other in school. Yates had been younger than Brent, but a decent sort of boy, not one to bully or ridicule. It made his betrayal with Eunice more surprising and doubly painful.

  ‘I had not heard you were back,’ Brent remarked. ‘Where had you been? The Colonies?’

  Yates tried a tentative smile. ‘They prefer to call it America.’

  Not that it mattered to Brent what the Americans called their country. ‘Why did you come here, Yates?’

  ‘To offer you my apology.’

  It was a simple answer, but the reason to apologise was more complex. ‘Why should I accept it?’

  Yates drew a nervous breath. ‘I cannot say whether you should or should not accept anything I say. I came to explain.’

  ‘What good will that do?’ He walked over to the window. ‘What is done is done.’

  If he hoped Yates would take the hint and leave, he was mistaken. Why had the man not remained in the Colonies?

  Yates continued, ‘It took me this year to understand what role I played in what happened. If I told you that I’d loved her, I am not certain now that would be the truth. I do know that my character was such that I could not resist her. She was captivating and I was weak. That might be the whole of it.’

  How well Brent knew that Eunice could be captivating. She’d also possessed such exacting standards that she could never accept the truth about the maternal side of her husband’s family.

  ‘Are you asking for my forgiveness?’ Brent countered, his tone sharp.

  Yates’s eyes widened. ‘No. Not at all. But I could not return to London without attempting this conversation with you.’

  Brent wished the man had never returned. His presence would only cause more talk and remind Brent of painful memories.

  ‘There is only one thing I wish to know.’ He glared at Yates. ‘Do you intend to cause me more trouble? Or more trouble for my family?’

  Yates took a step forwards. ‘Believe me, Brent. I give you my word as a gentleman. I came here to assure you that I will not cause you or your family any trouble. Society will never know what you and I both know.’

  Brent felt his anger flash. ‘If you break your word I will destroy you. Do I make myself clear? There are innocents I will not have hurt.’

  Yates held his gaze with a steady determination. ‘I would rather die than have anyone hurt further by my follies.’

  Brent believed him. He turned his head away in thought. ‘If we are seen as feuding, it will cause gossip. If we are cordial, people will soon pay us no heed.’

  Yates nodded. ‘I could not agree more. I will not assume such behaviour changes your personal feelings about me, but I wish you to know my esteem of you is genuine. Eunice and I have got what we deserved. My punishment is to live with my mistakes and regrets, but you have done nothing wrong.’

  Brent knew that statement to be false. He had wronged his children. Abandoned them to suffer Eunice’s unhappiness. He had vowed to amend his ways. Perhaps he could believe Yates capable of the same thing.

  ‘Well!’ Yates expelled a tense breath. ‘I will not trouble you more. I have said all I needed to say. I bid you good day, Brent. Thank you for seeing me.’

  He turned and walked to the door.

  When he opened it, Brent said, ‘It took courage to face me, Yates. I wish you a good day, as well.’

  The tension in Yates’s face eased. He bowed and walked out of the library.

  * * *

  Anna and the children burst into the hall just as a gentleman was leaving. The children ran into him.

  ‘Children! Take care!’ Anna cried, pulling them out of the man’s way. ‘Go upstairs and wash your hands and faces.’

  They ran for the stairway.

  ‘And do not run!’ she cried, tossing the man a look of dismay.

  He watched the children scamper up the stairs.

  ‘Forgive me, sir,’ she said to him. ‘I thought a walk would deplete them of energy. Obviously it had the opposite effect.’

  He blinked and dragged his gaze away from where the children had been. ‘They have grown since I saw them last.’

  ‘Oh?’ she smiled. ‘You know Lord Brentmore’s children?’

  He looked rueful. ‘I have seen them before...’ His voice faded, then he seemed to collect himself. ‘I am remiss. Allow me to present myself. I am Mr Yates.’

  ‘A friend of the family?’ she asked. There was something in his manner. Something unspoken.

  ‘No.’ He looked sad. ‘Someone known to Lord Brentmore. I have newly returned to town and have paid my respects.’

  She extended her hand. ‘I am Miss Hill, the children’s governess.’

  He shook it. ‘I remembered the governess as a lady with grey hair.’

  He had seen Mrs Sykes? ‘I am the new governess.’ She suddenly felt uneasy about saying too much, not knowing who this man was, after all. ‘Where were you that you have returned to town?’

  ‘I—I spent a year in America,’ he responded.

  ‘America?’ She forgot her reticence. ‘I have read a great deal about America. The savages. The bison and bears. In fact, yesterday we saw a grizzly bear at the Tower.’

  ‘You took the children to the Tower?’ he asked.

  She wished she had not mentioned it. She stepped back. ‘I am keeping you from wherever you need to be. I bid you good day, sir.’

  ‘Good day, Miss Hill.’ He bowed.

  Davies appeared in the hall. ‘Did I hear Mr Yates leave?’

  She nodded. ‘Who is he? He seemed to know the family.’

  Davies came close to her ear. ‘Do not tell Lord Brentmore I said so, but he is the man with whom the marchiones
s had a long affair. It is said he broke it off and that is why she rode after him and fell from her horse.’

  Her eyes widened. ‘Why did he come here?’

  Davies was clearly eager to discuss this. ‘That is a puzzle. He wished to speak to his lordship, is all I know.’

  ‘He said he came to pay his respects,’ Anna shared.

  ‘That is odd, indeed.’ Davies seemed to catch himself. ‘But I have said too much already. One must not gossip.’

  ‘I will say nothing, Davies,’ she assured him.

  Lord Brentmore walked into the hall. ‘Did he leave, Davies?’

  ‘He did, m’lord.’ Davies slid a glance to Anna, who started to climb the stairs.

  Lord Brentmore spoke to her. ‘How are you, Anna?’

  ‘Very well, my lord.’ She lowered her gaze and tried to dampen her response to him.

  ‘Where are the children?’ he asked.

  ‘Washing up. We just came in from a walk.’

  He frowned. ‘I’ve seen so little of them.’

  ‘They will be playing with the toys.’

  He looked regretful. ‘I wish I could spend some time with them. I have an appointment at Coutts and then I’m engaged to meet my cousin.’

  It seemed each day took him further away.

  He added, ‘I plan to return for dinner, though.’

  She glanced towards the butler. ‘Discuss it with Davies. It is better for me and for the servants if I dine with the children.’

  He looked disappointed. ‘I suppose I deserve that. I have cancelled out on you each night since we’ve been here.’

  She raised her eyes to his. ‘London has changed things.’

  * * *

  As the days passed by Anna and the children adapted to this new routine. Lord Brentmore continued to share breakfast with his children, but any other time spent with them was snatched from his busy schedule. An hour here or there to show Cal with the tin soldiers some part of the Waterloo battle. A few minutes to see how Dory had rearranged her doll house. Quick instruction in fencing for them both, because Dory would not be left out of something so exciting and fun. Anna was never alone with him.

  She resumed giving the children their lessons and did her best to devise outings for them, some enjoyable, some not. They were measured and fitted for new clothes, something that delighted Dory, but not her brother. They took walks around Mayfair and played with the ball and skittles in the Square or in the small garden behind the town house. She took them to the Egyptian Hall to see Napoleon’s carriage and other artifacts from Waterloo. They visited the shops and had ices from Gunter’s again, but it was not Anna’s favourite place, reminding her of Miss Rolfe.