Somewhat Scandalous (Brambridge Novel 1)

by Pearl Darling

  Worst of all. She had made him fall in love with her. From the very beginning.

  CHAPTER 25

  He was so bloody confusing.

  One moment he acted as if he wanted Agatha to sink through the floor. The next he made her feel as if she was flying higher than a kite in the sky. She put a hand to her lips. Worst of all she had no idea why Henry had kissed her, again. And yet despite that, it had still sent warmth throughout her body, from her head to her toes, a tingling warmth that grew to ache.

  Victoria fluttered from her desk to the small table in the morning room, her small dogs yapping at her heels as Agatha sat quietly drinking tea.

  “I’m sorry about Mr. Daventry,” she said worriedly. “I couldn’t have guessed he would be so,” she made a moue with her mouth, “lecherous.”

  Agatha gave a wobbly smile, glad that the topic of her brother hadn’t come up. “Don’t worry. We both know I couldn’t have avoided dancing with him.” She sighed. “I do wish trouble didn’t seem to follow me around so much.”

  “At least it gave you the opportunity to throw someone into the string quartet!” Victoria collapsed into the day couch under the window. “You don’t know how often I have longed to do that at a ball. Either the quartet is awful, or the person you are dancing with has clumped on your toes so many times that you just want to get rid of him.”

  “Hmm, yes.” Agatha took another sip of her rapidly cooling tea. “The look on his face as Freddie hauled him away was priceless.”

  Victoria smiled suddenly. “I preferred the bit where he was skewered by the cellist. And you were rescued by Earl Harding. That must have been a relief.”

  Agatha looked hard at Victoria’s face. Whilst she continued to smile, the warmth that had blazed there before had muted somewhat. “He was very kind.” Agatha bent to pet one of Victoria’s small spaniels that nosed at her feet.

  “Yes, a bit like a knight in shining armor. Rather unusual for him.” Victoria continued, “So how come you were on the terrace for so long? I was a little surprised when you let the earl take you out there alone.”

  Agatha gulped.

  “Ahem, Lady Colchester.” Carruthers, Victoria’s butler, stood ramrod straight in the doorway, a footman peering over his shoulder. “We have received a few…” The footman tapped the butler on the shoulder. “That is to say, a large number of bouquets for Miss Beauregard. We were wondering what we should do with them?”

  Victoria leapt to her feet. “Agatha, you have indeed been a success, this is delightful!”

  “Ahem.” The butler coughed into his sleeve again.

  “Oh do stop saying, ‘ahem’, Carruthers,” Victoria said exasperatedly. “Whatever can be the matter?”

  Carruthers, who had been Henry’s footman at the time when Agatha had run away, had obviously grown into his discreet role as Lady Colchester’s butler.

  Agatha had a very good idea what the matter was.

  “Mesdames may wish to examine the notes that come with the flowers before receiving them.” The butler looked rather worried.

  The drawing room was filled with vases of flowers of every hue and texture. Light pink roses and spearmint, and of more concern, spider flowers and dill, amongst others, sparkled in the morning light.

  Agatha knew only a little of floriography, of what the flowers meant, but it was very well known that dill had all the connotations of ‘no strings attached fun.’ Grimacing, she plucked at random one of the cards that had accompanied a bouquet.

  ‘To an experienced lady, can you teach an old dog some new tricks? Meet me tonight in Vauxhall Gardens, Lord Hennisome.’

  Agatha swallowed and dropped the card back on the table. In mute horror she took another card from the pile.

  ‘You make me hot under the collar. I’m looking for a new mistress. Be mine. Mr. Cryne.’

  “I’m ever so sorry, Agatha.”

  Agatha looked up to see Victoria had several notes in her hand.

  “It is just more of the same. I was so silly to think that it would all blow over if we ignored it. Carruthers, would you leave us for a moment please?” Victoria pushed the notes into a nearby vase.

  Agatha waited as the butler and his footman exited through the door. The footman stared at the flowers perplexedly as if he had something he wanted to say, but Carruthers tapped him on the shoulder and led him away.

  Through the open doorway, the great lion knocker resounded through the hall. Curious, Agatha stepped into the hall.

  Henry stood at the open front door, speaking in urgent low tones to the footman, who gestured to the inside of the house with uncharacteristic animation. As Henry’s eyes met hers, he stopped speaking.

  Agatha blinked as the footman put a hand in the small of Henry’s back and shoved him further into the house.

  With a curse, Henry came to a stop. “I’ve…come to tell you what I want from you.” He stood up straight and stared down his nose at Agatha.

  Agatha took a step back down the hall, her mouth falling open. What he wanted from her? She’d asked him that question five years ago.

  “And take you for a… drive. Especially since the Eversleigh musicale has been cancelled.”

  Snapping her mouth shut, she felt behind her for the stair bannister. She had been thinking frantically of ways to say that she was busy. But damn the man, he evidently knew her entire social schedule as well.

  “Well?”

  “Go away, big brother.” Victoria exited the drawing room behind Agatha. “You can’t come to my house and harass my guests. Get back in your coach. She will let you know in five minutes whether she is coming or not.”

  Firmly, Victoria shut the door behind Henry as Agatha sat down on one of the shallow wooden steps of the stair. She had never seen Henry appear so hesitant.

  Victoria grinned, and looked up at a large portrait that hung above the rococo hall. It was the only picture in the house of Lord Colchester and herself.

  “By God, I’m going to make you dance, Henry,” she muttered, staring at the portrait.

  “Henry doesn’t dance.” Agatha traced the knots in the wood of the stairs. What I want. Goodness. What did she want? To be held forever, to be looked after, to be freed.

  Victoria laughed. “Of course not. He’s too afraid that a young debutante will come along and ensnare him into marriage. I’m sure he’s too worried that they’ll interfere with his activities for the War Office.”

  He asked me to marry him long ago. Did that mean that he had thought that she was just another girl he could sweep into the corner so that he could continue with his secrets? Agatha dropped her head in her hands. Then why did he kiss her? To persuade her that she needed him more than he needed her?

  “I’m not sure I want to go on a drive with your brother at the moment.”

  “Why ever not?” Victoria pulled Agatha up by her elbow and marched her up the stairs. “The five minutes is so that you can change your dress, do your hair and make him wait.”

  Agatha dragged her feet across the stair rods. “Have you seen the way he looks at me? It’s like he wants to dig a hole in the ground and tip me in.”

  “Nonsense.” Victoria pushed her into her room. “The pale blue dress I think, with the lovely neckline.”

  Agatha sputtered. “Lovely neckline? There is no neckline. There is practically nothing there on that dress.”

  “There is a neckline. It is just enhanced for your shape.” Victoria pushed Agatha up the stairs and through the bedroom door as Chantelle, her lady’s maid bustled in.

  “Oooh yes zees iz ze one,” Chantelle exclaimed. Deftly unpicking the buttons on the back of Agatha’s dress, she picked up the blue one and pulled it over Agatha’s head.

  “Now the hair.” Victoria nodded at Chantelle.

  Fingers weaving nimbly, Chantelle drew Agatha’s hair into a crown and folded it on top of her head, leaving a few ringlets curling down by the side of her face.

  “Bah, alors miss, you do look younger.”
r />   Agatha winced. She turned to look at herself in the mirror. The maid was right. The hairstyle pulling the hair back off the head smoothed out her skin, and faded the sun wrinkles from her time in Brambridge. The pale blue of the dress also showed against her pale skin like silk. But the neckline was too low.

  “Stop looking at it!” Victoria stamped her foot on the ground. “It’s the fashion. No one is going to pay any attention to it. Everyone else goes around in the same sort of dresses. Get used to it.”

  “But I still haven’t said if I want to go with your brother.”

  “Of course you do. Don’t you want to find out what he has to say?”

  “I… err…” Yes she did. Very much so.

  “There you go then.”

  In the hall Victoria handed Agatha a pair of gloves. She smiled, a little sadly it seemed, and pushed Agatha out of the front door.

  Henry lounged in the driving seat of a tall curricle, the reins held firmly in one hand, his top hat tipped rakishly on his head. He turned to Agatha and grinned as he handed her into the carriage. As his gaze moved downwards, his smile slipped.

  But then it turned a little more wolfish. Giving a loud crack to his whip, Henry pulled on the reins and started to whistle.

  CHAPTER 26

  By Lucifer, she was still gorgeous. Henry straightened on the well-sprung carriage seat and hoped that Agatha couldn’t see how her décolletage had affected him. Desperate want and rage fought within him at the same time, blinding him to the roadside obstacles.

  “Watch out, Henry!” Agatha shouted as a small boy darted in front of the precarious carriage. She grabbed him by the arm and shook it. “What’s the matter with you? Have you been drinking?”

  Henry thought of the two whisky tumblers he had drained before he could get up the courage to ask her out on a drive. That and to stop himself turning round and going back to bed. The short answer to her question was yes. But in his defense, it had been accompanied by a rather large and satisfying sandwich.

  Devil bedamned he wished that she had a large coat to wear or something that would hide her away. He had seen what the men were like in the park on a previous occasion. Whilst a lot of that was tied up with these terrible rumors, much of it was to do with the fact that Agatha had matured into a beautiful woman.

  He twitched the reins a little, causing the horses to shake their heads in disagreement. He felt a sudden urge to break into song.

  “You have been drinking,” she said suddenly. “I can smell it.” Agatha sat back on the seat leather and folded her arms, pushing her bosom up even further. Henry gulped.

  “I merely had a sip of brandy,” he said, marveling at how cool and aloof his voice sounded whilst his body burned. “I was trying the new intake that the Berale House estate manager ordered. He asked me to give my approval to buy before the next shipment came in. Given the wars with France, it is difficult to get new brandy these days and there is a lot of competition for barrels…” His voice faded as he became aware that Agatha was gazing at him with an eyebrow raised.

  She put a hand into her skirts.

  Henry groaned. “Please don’t get out your notebook.”

  If he had just stuck with telling her he was trying the new intake, as false as it was, it might have flown.

  However, Agatha looked at him for a few seconds longer with her eyebrow raised and then turned to face the front again.

  “What’s wrong with my notebook?”

  Henry hunched his shoulders. “When you get out your notebook it means you are really analyzing everything being said in a very scientific manner.”

  “Aren’t we meant to turn left here to go into the park?” Agatha withdrew her hand from her skirts, her face white.

  Clenching his fists, Henry pulled hard on the reins. The horses jerked their heads but followed the curve through the railings into the park.

  They had barely entered fifty paces when another carriage hailed theirs. Agatha groaned beside him. Henry stilled the carriage horses reluctantly, wondering if he could hide behind the thin whip he held in his hand.

  “Hullo, old fellow,” the gentleman said in a jolly manner. “Haven’t seen you out much since… since well.”

  “Yes, quite.” Henry tightened his grasp on the rein and glanced at Agatha with a worried frown.

  “Since me,” the lady said with a pout, laying a gloved hand on the man’s arm. “Silly Edward. Everyone knows. And anyway I’m with you now, titbit.”

  Agatha winced. Edward and Henry did the same.

  “Look, old chap, hope you took no offence…” Edward continued. Henry smirked but he let Edward squirm a little longer. “It’s just that Celine is such a beautiful woman.”

  The lady in question visibly preened and plucked at her daffodil yellow dress. Then she looked Agatha straight in the face.

  “And your name is?”

  “Agatha Beauregard,” she said shortly.

  “Oh yes. We meet again,” Celine said softly.

  Henry glanced sideways at Agatha; her face was white, and her fingers trembled on her pelisse. They’d met before. Oh good grief. How on earth was he going to win Agatha over if she’d already met his ex-mistress?

  “Pleased to meet you,” Edward said politely.

  “I’m not,” Celine cocked her head on one side. “Have you heard what they are saying? Illegitimate child, peasants in Devon, men all over the place and do you know what she did to Charles Fashington?”

  Henry frowned, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. He squared his shoulders as Agatha’s slumped next to him. He ached to hold her in his arms.

  “What did she do to Charles Fashington?” Henry leaned forward, his body angled away from Agatha, trying to block her from Celine’s sight.

  Celine leaned forward to as if to import great meaning to what she was going to say. “Did you know that she put it around that Charles jilted her, and then when nobody believed it, she spread a rumor that he frequented brothels which had very particular reputations if you know what I mean.”

  Henry sat back in his seat; he could not look at Agatha, he felt helpless, so helpless that if he looked at her, she would see it in his eyes.

  “Hmm,” he said and then fell silent.

  “Now look here!” Agatha exploded next to him. “I’m sat here right in front of you…”

  Henry sighed and took Agatha’s hand in his. “I’m sorry but every word Celine said is true.”

  Celine nodded and smiled happily.

  “Every word of Charles Fashington frequenting a brothel of a particular reputation is true,” he continued.

  Celine continued to smile. A look of horror crossed Edward’s face and he dived for the reins of the carriage as if to see if he could take Celine away as soon as possible.

  “In fact, when I hunted Charles Fashington down on the night that Charles and Agatha broke off their engagement, he was engaged in just such an activity.”

  Celine’s smile straightened. “He was?”

  “Oh yes. And anyway, Celine, we must all start somewhere, mustn’t we?”

  Celine blinked and straightened, the smile gone from her face.

  “Celine, I think it is time we said our farewells.” Edward shook the reins that he now held in his hand, his fingers visibly trembling. “Do you think I might see you at the club soon, Henry?” he enquired tentatively.

  Henry frowned. “Yes,” he said slowly, “And we’ll have a little chat regarding a certain someone.”

  As the carriage wheeled away, Agatha drew a gloved hand across her brow and dabbed at the perspiration. “Do you think that we could just drive for a bit, Henry?”

  Henry looked up sharply as Agatha used his first name for the first time in years, but Agatha faced away from him. “I think there is a rhododendron drive somewhere in here.”

  Agatha tilted her head towards him, the movement only serving to emphasize the gentle crevice between her breasts. He licked his lips.

  “Henry,” she said sharply. With a
jerk on the reins, he set the horses off again at a smart pace into the park.

  “I’m sorry that we met them,” he said softly. “Celine was never good at keeping secrets.” He stopped for a moment. “She used to know all the rumors and everything about anyone. It made her essential in some of the things that I did.”

  “Where did you meet her?” Agatha asked. Henry frowned.

  “She was the madam of a high class brothel,” he said shortly. He frowned as Agatha gave a small smile.

  “Not unexpected,” she said softly. “You never wished to marry her.”

  Henry brushed at a lock of hair that had fallen into his eyes. How did she know? She couldn’t have been watching his every move, could she? Was she really Monsieur Herr?

  “But you still haven’t told me what you want from me.”

  Henry gazed at her for a long second. “I want… no, I need. Oh devil take it, Agatha.”

  Letting go of the reins, he pulled her roughly towards him, his large hands gathering her up at the small of her back. Her head tipped back and she stared at him with questions in her eyes. He drew in a breath as her rosy lips parted. Drawing a slow hand up the silk covering of her spine, he cupped her neck. Her mouth opened in protest. Tilting his head on one side, he looked at her, wonderingly, every muscle straining in his body. Not again. He couldn’t do it. He didn’t want to know how she felt about him. It was better this way, just being near her. It would have to do.

  As he drew back, she closed her mouth with a snap. Turning to grab the reins once more, he shook his head, but stopped as Agatha laid a hand on his. The horses stamped their feet impatiently.

  Agatha leaned into him. “I’ll show you scientific…” she murmured. Placing a small kiss on his cheek, she trailed a hand over his shoulder, and caressed under his jaw.

  In shock, he turned his face so that it rested against hers, unable to stop himself. For an instant she let it rest, and then, tilting her head to the side slightly, she took his lips in hers and licked. Henry shivered to his boots as her catlike tongue ran smoothly across the tender inside of his mouth. Clenching at the reins, he closed his eyes. It was wonderful, no, terrible. She didn’t detest him in the least. But… oh gods. He couldn’t marry her now.