“Gracious Oliver, do slow down.”
“But I want to show Uncle Colin what I found.”
Hearing Tess and Oliver’s voices, Scarlett turned expectantly toward the door. She smiled at the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps and wondered what it was that Oliver had discovered. Knowing Oliver, it could be a rock, a mushroom, a feather, an insect, or any number of things.
“Uncle Colin,” he called, barreling through the open door, with Tess following a few steps behind. “Mama, you’re home.” If possible, the excited smile on his cherubic face widened further as he noted her presence.
“Hello dearest,” she said, her heart swelling with love as it always did when she looked upon his beloved face.
“What have you found this time my boy?” Colin asked, as he walked forward and scooped Oliver up and into his arms, looking pointedly at Oliver’s closed fist.
Grinning from ear to ear, Oliver promptly opened his hand to reveal the large snail he held within, holding it proudly aloft for both of them to see. “I found him in the garden. Isn’t he grand?”
“Indeed,” Colin agreed with the appropriate level of admiration. “He’s a fine specimen Oli.”
“I think he might very well be the grandest snail that I have ever laid eyes upon,” Scarlett said, her tone earnest as she stepped forward for a closer look.
“May I show him to Monsieur Deville?”
“Of course you may,” Colin answered, setting Oliver on his feet. “Just be careful that he doesn’t toss him in the cooking pot,” he teased, as Oliver dashed away to show his prize to their French chef.
Rolling her eyes, Tess turned to follow.
Monsieur Deville had immediately earned Oliver’s favor the night before, when he had prepared a delicious chocolate mousse for their evening’s desert. Scarlett smiled ruefully, for unbeknownst to her, poor Mrs. Crawley had acquired a new rival for Oliver’s affection.
Hours later, as she finished the last of her toilette, Scarlett sat before her vanity mirror, trying in vain to quell the butterflies that seemed to be flying about in her stomach. The marquis would be arriving at any moment and her nerves were starting to get the best of her.
Rising from the small bench seat, she walked over and opened the connecting door that led into Oliver’s room. Quietly, so as not to awaken him, she walked to her son’s bedside. She stood gazing down upon his angelic face, his expression so peaceful in his slumber, and felt her anxiety slowly begin to ebb. She bent down and brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, and then placed a feather-light kiss upon his brow. When she straightened her courage was all but restored. She had done whatever she’d had to do to protect her son, even before he was born, and she wasn’t about to stop now.
With her head held high, she descended the stairs a short time later and met the waiting Marquis of Fordham with a radiant, optimistic smile.
“Good evening, My Lady,” he said, tipping his head. “Please allow me to say what an absolute vision you are.”
“Thank you, My Lord,” she said, taking his proffered arm. “You are quite an impressive sight yourself.” William Morton was a striking figure indeed. Dressed in his immaculately tailored evening clothes, his thick golden hair neatly combed, his handsome face freshly shaven and his expression reflecting his natural good-humor, he was a remarkable-looking man. If only the sight of him made her heart go all aflutter as it always had with Alec everything would have been perfect, but instead, she felt only a genuine fondness for the dashing marquis.
“Fordham, it’s good to see you,” Colin said, extending his hand as he walked into the foyer.
“Kenston,” he replied, shaking Colin’s hand. “I heard you made off with a tidy sum from Derbyshire the other night at White’s.
“Indeed I did. Though Derby’s so plump in the pockets I’m not sure he even noticed,” Colin chuckled good-naturedly.
“The duchess sends her regards by the way. She is waiting in the coach.”
“Please give her mine as well. I know Scarlett will be in good hands this evening.”
“I guarantee it,” William assured him with a decisive nod, clearly understanding the earl’s concern for his sister.
As the marquis assisted Scarlett into the luxurious coach a moment later, she came face to face with the Duchess of Mawbrey. To her surprise, the duchess greeted her as if she were a long-lost friend rather than merely a past acquaintance, instantly putting her at ease.
“My dear, it is so lovely to see you again,” she said, grasping Scarlett’s hand as she settled into the seat next to her.
“Thank you, Your Grace. I am honored that you would allow me to accompany you this evening,” she replied humbly.
“We are going to have a lovely time dear, don’t you worry.”
“That’s right,” William agreed as he climbed into the coach, taking the seat opposite the two women as a liveried footman closed the door behind him. “Mother and I are in total agreement. Your return to London is going to be nothing short of a smashing success.”
As the coach rolled forward, Scarlett wished she possessed their confidence.
During the ride to the theater, the three of them kept up a lighthearted and easy conversation. Scarlett learned that the duke was off studying the ancient ruins in Greece and had been gone for several weeks. The duchess didn’t seem to mind her husband’s adventurous nature, but she wasn’t as fond of traveling herself. “I’m afraid I find extended travel far too wearisome these days,” she avowed. “Though I fear my dear husband will never lose his quest for adventure, I am contented here at home.”
It was clear that William often played escort to his mother when his father was away, and Scarlett appreciated the genuine affection the two seemed to have for one another. It was times like these that she so deeply regretted the loss of her own parents. Fortunately, despite their loss, her life had been filled with an inordinate amount of love thanks to her brothers, and for that she would be forever grateful.
When their coach at last came to a stop in front of the Royal Theatre, Scarlett took a deep, fortifying breath. In the next few minutes, her future would most likely be decided. She would either be welcomed back into Society’s good graces, her scandalous elopement graciously forgiven, or she would be cut and forever shunned for running off with the fictitious Ian McKinnon.
Noting her sudden apprehension, the duchess reached out and squeezed her hand reassuringly. Scarlett was well aware that the Duchess of Mawbrey was a force to be reckoned with within the ton’s tightknit circle. She was one of the gentry’s most admired matriarchs and had long been regarded as a social icon. As she met the duchess’ steady gaze, she could almost read the message in her eyes; if anyone dared give her the cut-direct, knowing that the duchess was championing her, they would be making a crucial mistake.
As William assisted them from the vehicle, Scarlett lifted her chin and donned a confident smile, despite the sudden weakness in her knees. She thought again of her son and bravely took the marquis’ arm as his mother took the other. The three of them then made their way to the steps leading up to the theater’s entrance and began their ascent.
As soon as they entered the brilliantly lit lobby hung with several massive crystal chandeliers, heads began to swivel in their direction. When their gazes fell upon Scarlett, eyes widened, jaws dropped and conversations halted in midsentence.
Seemingly impervious to the wide-eyed stares directed toward their threesome, the duchess immediately spotted and made eye contact with the Earl and Countess of Standshire, and then moved purposefully in their direction.
The Minton’s had hosted the very first ball Scarlett had attended during her debut, and were definitely one of society’s most prominent and influential couples. Their reaction to her presence would be a crucial indicator of her impending success or failure, and everyone around them seemed to be watching the ensuing encounter with bated breath.
“Penny, Nevel, how lovely to see you,” the duchess greeted. “You re
member Lady Scarlett, of course,” she said, gesturing toward Scarlett.
Clearly taking her cue from the duchess, Penelope Minton who was widely known to be a close friend of the Morton family didn’t miss a beat. With her voice carrying clearly to those around her, the Countess of Standshire spoke in a pleasant, welcoming tone. “Of course, how wonderful to see you again.”
With that one simple sentence, Scarlett realized that she had been granted a reprieve. For herself, she couldn’t have cared less, but for her son she was elated and immeasurably grateful.
The hush that had settled over the crowd close enough to witness her entrance, suddenly evaporated and conversation began flowing rapidly. Within moments, people eager to renew their acquaintance with the illustrious Scarlett Angel surrounded her. Stunned by the ease at which she had been accepted back into the fold of the notoriously harsh and unforgiving nobility, Scarlett quickly shook off her astonishment and with a gracious charm and beguiling manner that would have made her brothers proud, she began to repair her damaged reputation.
The Marquis of Fordham stayed protectively by her side as they made their way through the crowd, which had slowly begun moving in the direction of their seats. She had yet to see Alec, and after a while assumed he wasn’t there. She realized that she was mistaken however, when a few feet from the entrance to the Morton’s private box, her gaze inadvertently fell upon his unmistakable form. He stood several inches taller than most of the other men there, and even though she glimpsed only his profile, she recognized him immediately. For a moment her gaze was riveted on the handsome man who had taught her the meaning of passion and love, as well as the pain of heartbreak and loss; the man who had forever changed the course of her life.
As if sensing her eyes upon him, Alec suddenly turned in her direction. His gaze slid casually passed her, then snapped back a split second later. His expression, unguarded for one brief instant, was one of incredulity.
Their eyes met and held for one endless moment, and then feeling the gentle pressure of William’s hand at her elbow, Scarlett turned away, her momentary distraction thankfully having gone unnoticed as the marquis led her to their box.
Though she tried to focus on the performance, it proved to be a difficult task. Once everyone had taken their seats, it hadn’t taken Scarlett long to locate Alec’s position. Like her, he was seated in a private box in the theater’s upper level, somewhat kiddy-corner from their own. It gave her a clear, unrestricted view of him, as well as the stunning young woman who sat next to him. The older, stern-faced woman seated behind them, she could only assume was the young lady’s chaperone. She forced her eyes not to linger overlong, though it was near impossible.
As Alec tried to keep his focus on the stage, his thoughts now spinning in a dizzying whirl made it a hopeless endeavor. Scarlett had returned to London. He couldn’t have been more surprised if one of the actors on stage had suddenly sprouted two heads. He’d had no idea that she was in town, and the unexpected sight of her, on the arm of the Marquis of Fordham no less, had left him feeling as if he’d received a blow to his solar plexus. Sitting in his box, the lovely Vanessa Brookshire beside him, he couldn’t seem to concentrate for even a second on the evening’s performance.
With the production begun, and Vanessa’s attention now occupied, he deliberately searched the crowded theater. It took him only a moment to spot her, sitting serenely beside the Marquis of Fordham and looking even more beautiful than he remembered. He watched transfixed as Fordham bent his head to whisper something in Scarlett’s ear. She turned toward him at once, smiling in response to whatever it was that he’d said, before turning her attention back to the stage. Alec watched in utter fascination. When at last he forced himself to look away, he was held in the grip of a relatively foreign emotion, an emotion that felt remarkably like jealousy.
As the curtain drew to a close halfway through the performance, signaling a twenty-minute intermission, William escorted Scarlett and his mother to the lobby to procure refreshments and to mingle with the other patrons. Just as before, Scarlett was quickly surrounded. Sipping her champagne, she looked up and caught William’s gaze above the rim of her glass. His meaningful expression was easily decipherable. It was a look that clearly said, See, I told you so. She smiled warmly in return, knowing that she would never be able to repay him for what he had done for her.
As she made polite conversation, doing her best to concentrate on each exchange of dialog, she surreptitiously scanned the crowd for Alec’s tall frame, but failed to locate him in the large crush of people. Was he avoiding her she wondered? The thought was surprisingly disheartening. Fortunately she had little time to dwell on the matter, as she was repeatedly engaged in conversation.
Just as the bell signaled for everyone to begin returning to their seats, she turned to follow the marquis and Alec was suddenly there, standing before her, the lovely brunette on his arm.
“Worthe,” William greeted amiably, “and Lady Vanessa, how nice to see you.”
Vanessa, so that was her name, Scarlett thought morosely, as she eyed the petite beauty clinging possessively to Alec’s arm.
“Fordham, Your Grace,” he said bowing slightly to the duchess. “And of course, Lady Scarlett, a pleasure to see you again.” His polite nod revealed nothing of his inner thoughts.
“Hello, Your Grace,” Scarlett replied, her own expression courteous, yet slightly reserved. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” she said, looking pointedly at the woman at Alec’s side.
“Ah, forgive me,” Alec said. “Please allow me to introduce Lady Vanessa Brookshire, Lady Vanessa,” he said, bending his head in her direction, “may I present, Mrs.,” he paused slightly, “McKinnon, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Scarlett nodded, feeling suddenly ill at ease at Alec’s mention of her married name. Fortunately, the awkward moment was cut short by Lady Vanessa’s ensuing comment.
“Please allow me to offer my condolences on your husband’s tragic passing, Mrs. McKinnon,” Vanessa effused, reaching out to grasp Scarlett’s hand as if they were old friends, her expression sympathetic. Like so many others seemed to do, Vanessa apparently viewed Scarlett as some form of romantic heroine.
“Thank you, that’s very kind of you,” Scarlett responded, though slightly taken aback by the young woman’s genuine display of sympathy. She felt like such a fraud, and silently prayed that it didn’t show.
“Well, if you will excuse us, I suppose we should take our seats,” William said, noting that the lobby had begun to empty.
“Please give your parents my regards, dear,” the duchess said, smiling genially at Vanessa.
“Of course, Your Grace. It was so nice to have met you, Mrs. McKinnon,” Vanessa said, turning once again to Scarlett and giving her hand a friendly squeeze before releasing it.
For the remainder of the evening, Scarlett deliberately avoided looking in Alec’s direction. Unfortunately, it wasn’t nearly as easy to keep her thoughts from drifting in his direction. She couldn’t help but wonder if Alec was actively courting the lovely Vanessa Brookshire. Was he at last ready to settle down and take a wife? Had he found his ideal companion, the perfect candidate to fill the role of his partner, his duchess, and the mother of his children? Was Vanessa someone he cared about, but didn’t fear falling in love with? Or, had his cynical views regarding marriage changed over the past few years? Perhaps he was in love with the young beauty. The possibility was absolutely heart-wrenching.
Looking over at William Morton, Scarlett wondered if perhaps Alec had been right that night, the night he had ended their affair. Would it be easier to spend her life with someone she simply cared about, someone she considered a friend and a companion, rather than someone she loved, someone who had the ability to cut her heart to ribbons? Could she find happiness with someone like William? Could she settle for fondness and affection, rather than the all-consuming love she had for Alec? She wasn’t sure, but it was worth consideration.
Turning, William ca
ught Scarlett’s pensive expression. Reaching out he grasped her gloved hand and smiled reassuringly.
Scarlett couldn’t help smiling in response, for he was such a wonderful man. Any woman, including her, would be very lucky to win the affection of the kindhearted, not to mention extremely attractive, Marquis of Fordham.
From his seat across the way, Alec watched the tender exchange between Scarlett and William Morton. Despite the rational part of his brain telling him that he was a fool, he wanted nothing more at that moment than to make his way to their box and put his fist into Morton’s handsome face. It was an insane thought of course, and with pure strength of will he remained in his seat.
Chapter 16
Though it was a rare occurrence when she slept past daybreak, the sun had been up for hours when Scarlett finally awoke from her exhausted slumber. She had gotten home quite late the night before, for after their attendance at the theater, William and his mother had insisted on taking her out for a late supper at one of their favorite dining establishments, one that catered to its distinguished clientele well into the late hours of the night. Hence, she hadn’t returned home until the wee hours of the morning.
“Where’s Oliver?” she asked, surprised that he hadn’t come to awaken her long before now.
“I kept him busy for as long as I could,” Tess replied, setting a silver tea tray onto the nightstand next to Scarlett’s bed. “But he was growing restless, so I just sent him off to the park with his Uncle Gavin.”
“Thank you Tess. I’m sorry I slept so late. You should have woken me.”
“Nonsense dear,” she stated emphatically, handing Scarlett a delicate teacup with an intricately detailed floral design etched below the rim. “You clearly needed your rest. Besides, if the stack of invitations you’ve received this morning is any indication, you are going to have many more late nights ahead, so you had best get your rest when you can.”
The Hellion and The Heartbreaker Page 22