The Hellion and The Heartbreaker

by McNare, Jennifer

  Peering over the rim of her cup, she noticed the odd, furtive look that passed between Colin and Conner. “What?” she demanded, setting her cup back in its saucer and narrowing her eyes as she regarded them speculatively.

  When they both remained suspiciously silent, she felt her first sense of real anxiety. Had she done something wrong? Had she committed some grievous faux pas last night that was just now coming to light?

  “You might as well show her,” Rory said grinning, despite his mouthful of food, for which he instantly received a quelling glance from Colin.

  “Show me what?” It was then that she noticed the folded newspaper atop the table on Colin’s right.

  Colin’s gaze moved unconsciously toward the paper, then quickly back to Scarlett. “It’s nothing to be upset about, Scarlett. It is actually quite flattering.”

  “Let me see,” she demanded anxiously, holding out her hand.

  With only a slight hesitation, Colin handed her the paper.

  Quickly she scanned the pages, until finally her eyes fell upon the society column. Her name leapt out at her in bold print and she began to read.

  Possessing a face of angelic perfection, Lady Scarlett McPhearson, who some have already dubbed The Scarlett Angel, made her debut last night at the Earl and Countess of Standshire’s ball. Rumored to be the latest incomparable, Lady Scarlett didn’t disappoint. Her flawless beauty is most assuredly unmatched, and is equaled only by her delightful charm, assuring her position as the Season’s, if not the century’s, most sought after prize.

  It went on, but Scarlett couldn’t bear to read any further. “Oh dear Lord,” she gasped, her eyes widening in horror as she raised her gaze from the paper. “I am never leaving this house again.”

  “Come now, it’s not as bad as all that, Minx,” Colin assured her, clearly trying his best to suppress his amusement. “Most women would be over the moon after hearing such praise.”

  “The Scarlett Angel,” Scarlett croaked aghast. Noting the amusement her brother seemed to have more and more difficulty suppressing, her voice hardened. “I am so glad you are amused.”

  “Now Scarlett…”

  “I am referred to as a prize!” she fumed, her blue eyes shooting fire. “Am I a trophy then, a mere thing to be awarded, such as a tin cup given to the winner of a horse race?”

  “I’m sure it was meant as a compliment,” Gavin said, trying to be helpful.

  A mutinous look from Scarlett, in addition to the quelling looks from his brothers, clearly suggested that he was better off keeping his mouth shut, and after spooning a large mouthful of eggs into his mouth, he did just that.

  As her brothers all became suddenly engrossed in their breakfasts, Scarlett sat back in her chair with a frustrated sigh. She had no desire to be the toast of Society. She didn’t crave the attention nor did she long to be regarded as the prime catch for England’s most eligible bachelors, for Alec Weston had already claimed her heart.

  Thankfully Georgie’s timely entrance momentarily diverted her from her doleful thoughts. Sweeping hurriedly into the room in a flurry of rustling skirts, a wide grin lighting up her rosy features, Georgie was obviously in high spirits.

  “Have you seen the paper?” she exclaimed, more a statement than a question, her animated features reflecting her elation as she waved the folded newspaper excitedly to and fro. “It’s even better than we could have hoped,” she continued, oblivious to the others apparent lack of jubilation.

  Scarlett groaned inwardly. So much for diversions.

  “My goodness, have you seen the stack of calling cards and invitations you have already received?” she asked, directing her delighted gaze toward Scarlett. “They have been arriving all morning.”

  Georgie was so excited that Scarlett, even in her current state of mind, didn’t have the heart to dampen her spirits. With an inner sigh of resignation, she forced a smile to her lips and somehow managed to sound upbeat when she responded to Georgie’s question. “No I hadn’t noticed, but that’s wonderful.”

  Her brothers had all risen from the table at Georgie’s entrance, but she quickly motioned for them to be seated as she dropped the paper onto the table and then walked over to the buffet, procuring a cup of tea from the attending footman.

  “It’s better than wonderful,” she exclaimed, obviously too excited to sit down as she sipped her tea. Walking over to stand beside Scarlett’s chair, Georgie placed her hand on Scarlett’s shoulder and gave a gentle, yet exuberant squeeze. “I am so proud of you, Scarlett.”

  Scarlett looked up at the woman who had become more of a friend, than a tutor. “I couldn’t have done it without you Georgie. Thank you.”

  Georgie’s beaming face was enough to make Scarlett feel contrite about her earlier outburst. It was ridiculous to feel so ungracious about her social triumph, especially when so many other young women would have given almost anything for even a small portion of her success.

  “As soon as you’re finished eating we can begin going over all of the invitations,” Georgie said, barely able to contain her joy.

  For Georgie’s sake, Scarlett forced a smile and did her best to match the older woman’s enthusiasm.

  Later that afternoon, Rory surprised Scarlett by offering to take her riding along Rotten Row in Hyde Park the following morning. Though she’d left Mischief behind at Grey Oaks, she knew that her brothers kept several mounts in the city, in addition to their numerous carriage horses. She was certain she could find a suitable mount for herself, and was more than thrilled for the opportunity to ride upon the legendary Rotten Row. She made Rory promise to come home early that night so that they could get up and go first thing in the morning.

  Promptly at six-thirty the following morning, Scarlett stood outside her brother’s bedchamber, knocking loudly upon the solid wooden panel. “Rory, are you awake?” she asked for the second time, and again received only silence in response. When she knocked the third time, she heard a muffled groan, and then barely audible words that sounded very much like “go away.”

  Turning the knob, she pushed his door open a few inches. “You had better be decent, because in fifteen seconds I am coming in,” she stated loudly through the small opening.

  Another groan followed as she mentally counted to fifteen.

  Shoving the door open, she entered Rory’s room and marched directly to the side of his bed. Her brother was lying on his stomach, the sheets fortunately covering the majority of his naked back, while a pillow covered his head. Yanking it off, she glared down at his tousled hair. “Rory, wake up,” she demanded.

  “Damnation Scarlett, it’s not even morning yet,” he mumbled into the sheets.

  “It most certainly is morning, and you promised to take me riding.”

  With another groan, Rory turned his head to face her, blinking as the early morning sunlight tortured his eyes. “Are you sure I said I’d take you this morning?” he questioned.

  “I’m positive, and I warned you not to stay out all night,” she retorted, feeling little sympathy for her brother, especially since she had left Alec’s bed well before dawn in order to garner a few hours of sleep.

  “Didn’t mean to,” he mumbled. Yawning, he pulled the pillow back over his head. “Lost track of the time.”

  “Well that is hardly my fault,” Scarlett replied, glaring in exasperation at the pillow that was once again covering Rory’s head. She was quickly losing her patience. “Get up and take me riding you lazy slug,” she said, poking him in the shoulder.

  “Ah c’mon, Scarlett, can’t we go tomorrow morning instead?” he pleaded, peeking out from under the pillow.

  Rather than giving in to the desire to take Rory’s pillow and thump him over the head with it, she decided to change tactics. She heaved a dejected sigh, and cast her eyes downward, looking at her brother from beneath her lashes. “But Rory, you promised, and I was so looking forward to it,” she said, breathing another disheartened sigh at the end for added effect.

 
; Rory eyed her disparagingly. “That only works on Colin.”

  She dipped her head further and managed a tiny sniffle.

  Rory closed his eyes and heaved an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll be down in thirty minutes.”

  “Make it twenty,” she replied with a cheeky grin, her dejection evaporating as quickly as it had appeared. As she turned and headed toward the open door, she wasn’t the least surprised when Rory’s plump, feather-stuffed pillow sailed past her head and thudded against the wall a few feet to her right. Smiling happily, she fairly skipped from the room, pulling the door shut behind her as she headed for the stairs.

  When she reached the breakfast room, she poured herself a cup of tea and grabbed a scone from the buffet table. The neatly folded paper was lying nearby, but she deliberately ignored it. She couldn’t bear it if they had printed another article about her. They had attended the museum exhibit the night before, nothing that should have garnered any mention, but she preferred not to take the chance and left the paper lying where it was.

  When Rory finally made it downstairs nearly thirty minutes later, Scarlett was waiting for him at the entrance to the breakfast room with a cup of steaming coffee in one hand and an apple danish in the other. “Here, drink this,” she ordered, shoving the cup into his hand.

  “Can I sit down at least?” he asked, giving her a baleful look.

  “No, now drink up.”

  “Have you always been this bossy?” he asked between sips.

  She just rolled her eyes.

  “All right, that’s enough,” Scarlett said after only a couple of minutes, pulling the cup from Rory’s grasp and setting it on the table. “You can drink all the coffee you want when we get home.” Shoving the danish into his now empty hands, she grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and started pulling him along behind her as she headed toward the outer garments that were already laid out and ready to be put on. It was quite chilly in the mornings and she didn’t want to have to cut their ride short because they got cold.

  “For goodness sake, Scarlett, the bloody track isn’t going anywhere,” Rory grouched between bites. “What’s the hurry?”

  “Rory,” she began, once again rolling her eyes, “even I know that just after sunrise is when the serious riders take to the track. Do you think I want to wait until midday so that we can go plodding along behind all of the docile mares and their indolent riders, not to mention the carriages filled with elderly ladies out for their leisurely afternoon promenades?”

  “Fine, fine, you win,” he said, popping the last of the danish into his mouth. “Hand me my coat you troublesome baggage,” he teased playfully.

  Within minutes they were dressed and ready to go.

  As they walked toward the carriage house, Scarlett was relieved to see that the ground was dry, for she hadn’t really fancied the idea of getting her new riding habit mud-spattered. Back home, when riding conditions were less than ideal, she simply donned an old pair of breeches. Unfortunately, riding down Rotten Row in a pair of her brother’s faded castoffs wasn’t an option, so she was thankful they hadn’t gotten any rain or snow during the past few days.

  With her arm looped snugly through Rory’s, Scarlett breathed in the crisp morning air as they walked. Glancing at his expression, she was pleased to see that his spirits seemed to be improving. Of all her brothers, Rory was by far the most upbeat and cheerful of the group. He was hardly ever in a foul mood, and when he was, it rarely lasted for long.

  “I thought you were going to come home early last night. What kept you out so late? Or, should I ask who kept you out so late?” Scarlett asked, noticing the guilty expression and telltale blush that suddenly darkened Rory’s cheeks. “Let me guess,” she continued, “it was the ballet dancer, wasn’t it?”

  Not only was Rory the most happy go lucky of her four brothers, he was also the one who tended to forget more often than naught, that she wasn’t just another one of the boys. She could talk to him about almost anything.

  “How the blazes do you know about her?” Rory asked, looking slightly taken aback at the accuracy of her guess.

  “Ahh, so I’m right then!”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, am I?”

  “You are too bloody impertinent for your own good, do you know that?” Rory queried, trying and failing to look stern.

  “Tell me if I’m right and I will tell you how I know about her.”

  “You do know that Colin would box my ears if he knew we were having this conversation.”

  “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

  He regarded her in silent exasperation for a moment, and then nodded. “Fine, you’re right.”

  “Is she your mistress?” Scarlett asked boldly.

  Rory rolled his eyes skyward, clearly unable to believe they were discussing what they were discussing. “No, she is not my mistress. Now, no more questions,” he said firmly. “It’s your turn.”

  “Well,” Scarlett began, recalling the information she had inadvertently stumbled upon the night before, “Last night when we were at the museum a young lady, I believe her name was Jane Brighton or maybe it was Bingham, something like that, well anyhow, she pulled me aside and started asking me questions about you.”

  “Jane Blighton,” Rory corrected, his expression suddenly wary.

  “Yes well, Miss Blighton started asking me questions about you, and I quickly got the impression that she has developed a rather intense fondness for you.”

  “She has,” he confirmed, his tone slightly aggravated. “And the ballet dancer?” he prodded.

  “Well, she asked me if the rumors were true, if you were keeping company with the French ballerina who is staring in the new production that’s come to Town.” When Rory simply nodded his head in understanding, Scarlett couldn’t resist asking him about the lovely Jane Blighton.

  “Miss Blighton’s quite attractive, though I haven’t seen your ballerina so I have no grounds for comparison mind you, but I get the feeling that you are not nearly as interested in her as you are the ballerina,” she said, looking at her brother questioningly.

  “Oh Jane’s a nice enough girl, but if she had her way we would be standing in front of a minister before the Season’s end.”

  “I take it you’re not ready to settle down?” Despite asking the question, she already knew the answer. Rory was nowhere near ready to take on a wife or start a family. He was having far too much fun as a bachelor.

  “You’ve got that right,” Rory quickly affirmed. “Colin’s the poor sod who inherited the title. He’s the one who has to settle down and start begetting heirs, not me. I have no interest in becoming leg-shackled, now or anytime soon.

  Poor Miss Blighton, she mused, for even without a title Rory was considered a good catch, as were Conner and Gavin. He, like her and all of her brothers, had received a sizeable inheritance from their parents, and they had all entrusted Colin with managing their money. Her eldest brother had made several smart investments and had increased their wealth substantially. Rory also shared in the considerable profits from the family business, which continued to thrive. His individual wealth, combined with his good looks and exuberant personality made him quite popular with the ladies, despite his being a younger son.

  When they reached the carriage house Scarlett took in the familiar sounds and smells of the horses as they entered, and for a moment felt almost as if she were back home at Grey Oaks.

  “You can ride Diablo,” Rory said, heading toward one of the stalls. Looking back, he noticed Scarlett’s enthusiastic expression. “Don’t get too excited,” he told her laughing, “his name is deceiving, he’s actually quite docile.”

  Oh well, she couldn’t go tearing down Rotten Row riding hell-bent for leather like she did at home anyhow. Georgie would never forgive her if she created a scandal. When Rory opened the gate, she saw that the horse was a beautiful black with four blazing white socks. He tossed his head proudly as Rory led him out of the stall and Scarlett kne
w at once that she and Diablo would get on nicely.

  Once she and Rory were both mounted, they rode in companionable silence the short distance to Hyde Park. It was a wonderful morning; they couldn’t have asked for better. When they reached the track, they saw several other riders who were obviously taking advantage of the fine weather as well. Mindful of her behavior and somewhat hindered by the blasted sidesaddle she was forced to use in the city, Scarlett urged her mount to a moderate canter as they entered the track. How wonderful it would be to challenge Rory to a race on the infamous Rotten Row, she thought, but knew better than to suggest it. Her brother would have instantly taken up the challenge, forgetting that she was supposed to be presenting the image of a genteel young lady, not a willful hoyden, and he that of a proper chaperone.

  Several gentlemen called out greetings to her brother, in addition to tipping their hats and nodding politely to her as they passed by. Scarlett was pleasantly surprised to see a number of women out riding as well. These were obviously avid equestrians like her, riding to ride rather than riding to be seen, as many ladies often did in the late afternoon and early evening. She couldn’t help noticing that her brother attracted several admiring glances. He obviously noticed as well, for his mood seemed to become increasingly chipper as their ride continued.

  About twenty minutes after entering the park, they were approached by an attractive woman who appeared to be several years older than Scarlett was. Drawing her mount up beside them, they all slowed to a walk, her groom following a short distance behind as she bid Rory a good morning. Her brother politely introduced her to the woman, whose name was Lady Elizabeth Cavendish. He informed her that Elizabeth’s younger brother, Lord Cavendish, and he were chums and had been since their days at Eaton.