Scandalous Endeavors (Ladies and Scoundrels Book 1)

by Amanda Mariel

  “Yes, people will start to wonder where I have gone. I will be back following the meal.” Sarah’s face lit with excitement when she turned and disappeared from the room, leaving Amelia to her own devices. The next time she saw Sarah, it would be from the confines of Lord Roseington’s arms. She had found the thought of it exciting just a few days hence. Now it seemed to have lost a great deal of its previous appeal. True, Lord Roseington was a rich and handsome lord, but he failed to cause the delicious strange feelings that tormented her when the Duke of Goldstone came near. Why?

  She did not love the duke. In fact, Amelia could barely tolerate the rogue. Of course, she did not love Lord Roseington either. Both men were attractive, but she got on better with Lord Roseington. His company was quite pleasurable, unlike the duke who was positively vexing. What did it matter anyway? She did not need to feel internal flutters in order to marry a man. Mama once told her desire could be dangerous; that must be what she felt around the duke. None of it would matter once she married Lord Roseington, and she would marry him.

  Amelia picked the book back up and buried her mind in the fascinating tale it had to share. She read for hours, devoured the tragic history of her beloved London. Tales of death, disease, and fire etched forever into her mind. The story seemed oddly comforting now. It reminded her she was not the only person in history to experience loss. With blurry eyes from focusing on the words at length, she marked her page and set the book aside, suddenly famished. She rose from her position, stretched, then rang for a servant to bring her sustenance.

  Her stomach rumbled with the knowledge that Grace’s guests would soon enjoy a ten-course meal to include veal, sherbet, pigeon pie, cheese, and fancy cakes. It was bad enough she could not enjoy the ball. It would be tragic if she did not eat either. Perhaps she shouldn’t have excluded herself. But alas, even if she attended she would not have been allowed to fully engage. No, she was better off here in the library.

  After what seemed like hours, but were merely minutes, a servant entered carrying a large silver tray. He made his way to a nearby table and placed several platters upon it. Amelia rose from her perch on the settee and strolled to the table, taking the chair the servant pulled out for her. Samplings of all the dishes prepared for the ball sat displayed across the table. The appearance and aroma enticed her. “Thank you. I will ring when I have finished.”

  “Yes, Lady Amelia.” The servant walked out, leaving Amelia to her meal.

  She ate greedily, consuming as much of the fine food as her corseted waist would allow. Feeling satisfied, she summoned a servant to take away what remained. The task had barely been completed when she heard the telltale chiming that announced the midnight meal. Apprehension mixed with excitement cascaded through her body. Lord Roseington would enter her trap soon.

  After moving to a chaise she arranged herself in an attractive manner, her skirts smoothed out and torso regally straight. Picking up her needlework, she set about embroidering. She wanted to be the perfect image of a refined lady when Lord Roseington entered the room. Pushing and pulling the needle along, she worked at forming delicate daisies on the cloth that would become a handkerchief for the duchess. Amelia planned to gift it as a way to thank Grace for assisting in her endeavor.

  Amelia’s heart soared when she heard music drifting once again into the library. At any moment, he would enter and she would be ready. In and out the needle moved as she imagined how she would land in Lord Roseington’s arms. The clearing of a voice garnered her attention. She looked up into his eyes.

  “Lady Amelia, how nice to see you.” Lord Roseington moved farther into the room. “I hope I am not intruding. Lady Sarah has requested me to retrieve a novel for her,” he explained, a cautious smile on his face.

  Amelia beamed back, in an attempt to make herself visually appealing despite the widow’s weeds. “You are no intrusion at all,” she replied. “Quite the opposite really, I am happy to see a kind face. My days have grown so desolate and boring.” Amelia sighed audibly. “Oh how I do go on. I am sorry, Lord Roseington. Please get what you came for and forget what I have said.”

  He scowled, “How am I to forget a dear friend’s sorrow? Would it help ease your burden if I stayed for a moment?”

  She continued to gaze into his hazel eyes, noticing their color for the first time. “Actually, Lord Roseington, if you truly want to help me feel better”--she batted her lashes--“what I desire the most at this moment is to dance.” She smiled sweetly, but noticed her body’s lack of reaction to him. Where were the tingles? The racing pulse brought on by the duke? Lord Roseington was just as handsome. Why did she feel nothing in his presence?

  Lord Roseington appeared thoughtful for a moment, then frowned deeply. “Lady Amelia, I care about your comfort but...”

  “I know it is scandalous. Forgive me, I should not have asked. I am just so weary of mourning, and isolation; I thought a dance would help me forget, if only for a moment.” She turned and walked toward the hearth, feigning embarrassment.

  “You must not be upset, Lady Amelia. One dance will be all right. I do not suppose it would hurt anyone.”

  She slowly turned to face him and placed her hand in his outstretched one. “Thank you, Lord Roseington. I adore dancing, and it has been saddening me a great deal to sit in here and hear the quartet play, knowing all the while that I could not dance among my peers.”

  He held her in the proper manner. “I assure you, Lady Amelia, it is my honor to dance with you.”

  She tipped her chin up, making contact with his hazel eyes, and giggled. His arms felt warm and strong wrapped around her as they waltzed across the library, but she could not help but wonder why she did not feel excited. Focus on the plan, Amelia. She listened carefully to the music.

  Amelia misstepped, effectively tripping him, as the music came to an end. Lord Roseington fell onto the chaise, where she landed in his lap. His arms wrapped tightly around her small waist. Amelia placed her hands behind his neck with ease and looked into his eyes. “Please forgive my clumsiness. I do not know what came over me.” She grinned when his eyes seemed to soften.

  “You have no reason to apologize.” He turned his head toward the room’s entrance, then stood so quickly that she stumbled before finding her footing.

  Amelia followed his stare, fully expecting to see Lady Sarah standing there. Her heart skipped a beat. The Duke of Goldstone filled the space, and her gaze locked with his. She glanced back at Lord Roseington, who paled considerably.

  Lord Roseington stepped away from her. “I came to retrieve a book for my sister; this is not what it looks like. Lady Amelia tripped and--”

  “You have no need to explain to me, Roseington. I care not what you do.” He turned his gaze on her and smirked roguishly. “Lady Amelia’s reputation will not be tarnished on my account.”

  Had he noticed the angry heat ensconced on her cheeks? He peered at her devilishly, then chuckled and shook his head. Amelia’s heart pounded against her ribs and a throbbing developed between her thighs. How did he always manage to make that happen to her?

  Lady Sarah traipsed into the room, stopping abruptly at the sight of them. Her eyes met Amelia’s for nary a moment before they turned to her brother, “Pray tell, what is going on here?”

  His Grace answered, “Nothing at all. Roseington came to get your book and I came to check on Lady Amelia.” He did not allow anyone else the chance to speak. “Come now, Roseington, let us retrieve that novel and leave Lady Amelia in peace. She’s in grieving you know.”

  “Of course, Your Grace, you have no need to remind me.” He walked to the bookshelf and pulled one of the leather bound volumes. Turning abruptly, he moved to his sister’s side. “Here you are,” he said, handing her the book. Then took her elbow and led her away, leaving Amelia alone with the Duke of Goldstone.

  The rogue came so close she could feel his warm breath against her skin as his smoldering eyes locked on hers. A million new sensations coursed through her body an
d the throbbing intensified.

  “Fear not, Amelia. I meant what I said; all of your secrets are safe with me.” He turned and sauntered from the room without uttering another word.

  SCANDALOUS ENDEAVORS

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Amelia threw herself across the bed and fumed over the audacity of the duke. Then marveled at the way he had made her feel. Captivated and angry at the same time, but for different reasons. The nerve of him; he had even taken liberties with her name! He had called her Amelia as if it were natural to do so. Who did he think he was to refer to her in such an intimate way? As if his dreadful manors weren’t bad enough, he ruined her plan too.

  She rolled onto one side. Gathering her blanket to her chest, she hugged a bunched-up area of it. She should have smacked him across his smug face. A sigh escaped her lips. Maybe he honestly meant to shield her from harm. Perhaps he believed he had done her a good deed, saving her reputation from certain ruin. How could he have known she wished to become compromised?

  Another opportunity would soon present, and she would make sure nothing got in the way. Grace planned to host a dinner party next week, and Lord Roseington’s name appeared on the guest list. Amelia would make her move and succeed. She rolled onto her back, then opened her eyes and lay staring at the ceiling. Music from the ball seeped into her bedchamber like a serene lullaby. She closed her eyes and focused on it.

  Candles flickered and their light illuminated the room around her, bounced off the walls, and cast shadows on the dance floor. Fresh flowers were scattered about in a romantic way and the quartet played a waltz. Lords and ladies dressed for the occasion in silks, velvets, and jewels danced all around her.

  The Duke of Goldstone…no, Richard, approached as she entered the grand room. “You are a vision of loveliness in crimson and lace,” he said with a bow.

  Amelia replied, “Oh, how you do go on,” then blushed a becoming shade of pink.

  Richard smiled, his whole face lighting up. “May I have the honor of this dance?”

  Amelia placed her hand in his and allowed him to escort her onto the dance floor. As he took her into his arms, her body warmed. He held her scandalously close. She threaded her fingers through his hair. They glided gracefully across the marble dance floor, eyes locked, unable to tear their gazes from one another.

  “Amelia, my dear, I seem to be enchanted by you. I can no longer imagine my life without you in it,” Richard whispered in her ear. She beamed and tilted her head to accept his kiss.

  Amelia sprang into an upright position, shaking the bird-witted thoughts from her mind. “I despise the Duke of Goldstone. I have chosen to marry Lord Roseington, and it is precisely what I am going to do.” Still, she could kiss the duke...one kiss would not hurt anyone. Then he would be out of her system, and she could focus on marrying Lord Roseington.

  Her heartbeat increased. It was exactly what she would do. The next time she found herself alone with the duke, she would kiss him. After that, she would not think about him anymore. All of her attention would turn to Lord Roseington. Amelia felt much better as she lay back down and soon drifted into a peaceful, dreamless sleep.

  * * * *

  Richard entered the office, moving straight to the whisky decanter. The sight of Lady Amelia so intimately rapped in Roseington’s arms had sent a jolt straight through his core. Even now his hands shook. The urge to harm Roseington startled him. Why did he care so much for the chit? She clearly meant trouble.

  He poured a glass, drained it, then poured another. Were they lovers? Roseington had looked mortified over being caught with her. Perhaps he did not wish to become trapped. Richard strolled to the window. Torches lit the garden below and he focused on one of their flickering flames. Lady Amelia had appeared more angry than embarrassed. Why?

  Perhaps she hoped to ensnare the lord? He drummed his fingers upon the side of his glass. No, she did not wish to be compromised. Had her plan been to trap Roseington, she surly would not have been angry over getting caught with him. But then, why had she remained angry after he promised to protect her? The woman proved a mystery.

  He conjured her image to mind. Her green eyes had been burned into his soul since their first meeting. Thinking of them now made him want to seek her out and hold her as Roseington had. He longed to feel her perfect lips on his, to taste her sweetness.

  Had Roseington kissed her? His blood heated once again. He lifted his glass, relishing the smooth burn of the whisky as it trailed down his throat.

  Whatever Lady Amelia played at, Aunt Grace had knowledge of it. He moved to set his glass back on the sideboard before strolling from the room. He would know her game as well, and sooner rather than later.

  * * * *

  Grace’s garden boasted neat paths lined with an abundance of bright flowers and foliage. Amelia gravitated toward the large stone fountain in its center. The sun warmed her under the parasol as she meandered along the cobblestones. She admired the tulips in various shades surrounding the flowering trees. A small bit of heaven right here in her beloved London. She stopped a few times to smell the wisteria and daffodils as she traveled down deeper into the immense garden.

  The smell of spring flowers wrapped around her and comforted her mind. Memories of childhood came flooding back to her. She and Mama used to walk frequently at Everthorne. Amelia used to dance along the paths, chattering nonstop about whatever happened to be on her mind. Mama would encourage her, acting as though every word she uttered carried the utmost significance. How she wished Mama were here now.

  She caught sight of the impressive stone fountain and quickened her pace. Adorned with sculpted roses, it featured a statue in the center depicting lovers in a tender embrace. Water flowed from between them, creating a curtain of secrecy around them before landing in the fountain’s base. It was a beautiful scene that evoked thoughts of love, and strangely, made her think of the Duke of Goldstone.

  With a sigh, she positioned herself on the fountain’s edge. The first time she laid eyes on the work of art, she was a bright-eyed debutante embarking on her first season. It captured her imagination and made her dream of finding true love. She had vowed to herself in the fountain’s presence to marry for love, or die an old maid. Amelia leaned over a bit and peered at her reflection in the rippling water. That vow seemed like a million years ago. Love no longer mattered; it could not. She reached a hand into the water and glided her fingers across the surface, further distorting her image. Nothing other than staying in England mattered now. Everything she had was here. Her parents would always be here, and she could not abandon them. Who would tend their graves? Protect the things they had spent their lives building or maintaining?

  “A shilling for your thoughts, Lady Amelia.”

  She jerked her hand from the water and looked up into the duke’s sapphire eyes. Her pulse quickened as she replied, “You are up and about rather early given last night’s ball.” No way would she share her ponderings with him.

  He grinned. “I always go for a morning ride. There is nothing more serene than watching the sunrise wash the landscape in color.” He swept his arm out in an arch indicating the scenery. “What brings you out at this hour?”

  Standing up, she took a step away from him in an effort to calm her trifling body. “I had the impression everyone remained sleeping.” She gazed up through her lashes. “I needed something to occupy my time.” He stepped closer to her, so close that she could feel his breath and see the pulse that beat just beneath the skin of his neck. Her nerve endings tingled as she breathed his scent, relishing the musky aroma. “I stopped to admire the fountain. It’s a wonderful piece of art.”

  “Indeed,” he said. His gaze fused with hers.

  She tipped her chin up, aimed her lips at his, and rose onto her toes. When their lips touched, a tingling sensation ran through her. The warmth and softness of his mouth caused her body to cry out for something she did not understand. Amelia twined her fingers into his soft onyx locks. She wanted this moment
to last forever. His tongue lightly wet her lips as he pulled her closer. She parted them on instinct, wanting what he offered. Never could she have imagined something so divine.

  Suddenly, he broke the kiss, and stepped away from her. “I do not--”

  She raised her chin defiantly. “Forgive me, Your Grace, I know not what I do.” She waved her hand and continued, “Something just came over me.”

  His eyes glowed. Whether in pleasure or anger, she wasn’t sure.

  “It seems to me you know exactly what you do. If that little show last night wasn’t enough proof, this display certainly is.” His tone cut through her.

  Anger crept in and her body began to shake. “Last night is none of your concern. You can forget about our kiss as well. I assure you it will not happen again.”

  “Please use my given name. Now that you have compromised me, Richard will do just fine.” He smirked roguishly. “As for your little game, Amelia, I intend to figure out exactly what you are up to.”

  She swung her right hand through the air, effectively landing it palm down across his chiseled cheekbone. With her heart racing, she spun around and ran for the house, her skirts clutched tightly with both hands. His boisterous chuckle followed her every step of the way.

  Upon entering her chamber, she collapsed on the vanity stool, catching her head in her hands. Hot tears flowed freely to pool in her palms. What a mess she had made. Her shoulders quivered as intense waves of emotion washed through her. He’d ruin everything. Discover her plan and warn Lord Roseington off. Why did he even care? She sobbed harder. Why did that kiss have to feel so right? Why didn’t she feel the same pull with Lord Roseington?

  Sobbing would get her nowhere. Inhaling a deep breath, she straightened her back and wiped away the tears that now stained her face. The Duke of Goldstone proved to be a positively vexing man who meant nothing to her. The strange feelings were little more than warning bells telling her to stay away, to stop daydreaming about him. From this moment on, heaven help her, she would forget about the scoundrel.