Scandal of the Season

by Christie Kelley

  “Miss Seaton was badly injured so she was assisting her.” Anthony grabbed a towel hanging over a chair, stood and wrapped it around himself. “Where is my valet?”

  “He walked out as I came in.”

  “But again, why are you here?”

  “What I do with my time is my business,” his father said. “And where have you been? Your sister is worried about you.”

  He wanted to ask which one, but he could not betray his mother. “I have been busy. Tell Genna I will call on her in a few days.”

  “But where have you been?” His father stopped his pacing and stared at him. “Whoring and gambling, I presume?”

  “I have been next door helping Miss Seaton, too.” He grabbed his drawers and trousers and put them on. “In fact, I need to return.”

  “What happened to Miss Seaton that has everyone assisting her?”

  Anthony knew there was no point in denying what happened. The story was bound to get out. “She was shot.”

  “How are you involved?” His father continued his pacing. “Never mind, I am quite certain I do not wish to know.”

  Anthony continued to dress, eager to finish and leave this room. “Actually Father, I saved Miss Seaton. Not that you would likely believe it, but I did.”

  “By the by, I spoke with Coddington and he would be agreeable to a marriage.”

  His hand stopped on the button of his waistcoat. “Marriage? To whom?”

  “His daughter Susan, of course.”

  His mother had mentioned her name before he left for Farleigh’s. His mother must have talked to his father about this. Anger flared within him. “I am not marrying Susan Coddington.”

  “Yes, you are.” His father stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have waited long enough for you to sow your oats. You are twenty-eight and it is time to marry and produce an heir.”

  Anthony continued to button his waistcoat. “Oh, I have every intention of marrying.”

  “Good, then. I will send a note to Coddington stating that you will call on him in the morning.”

  “I am marrying Miss Seaton,” he retorted, tying his cravat. He grabbed his jacket and pulled it on.

  “You shall do no such thing.” His father’s white brows furrowed deeply. “I forbid it.”

  Anthony laughed. “Forbid it, then. It will not change a thing. I am marrying Miss Seaton.”

  “Anthony, think about what you are saying. The woman is the daughter of a vicar. She is not a member of Society. She will never be accepted, nor will she help you regain your respectability.”

  “Her dearest friends are Lady Selby, Lady Blackburn, and the Duchess of Kendal. I am quite certain they can assist in her acceptance amongst the ton.”

  “What if there is a scandal in her past?”

  “What if there is a scandal in my past?” Anthony retorted, staring at his father. “One that no one knows about.”

  His father tightened his jaw. “You are a viscount and will be earl some day, so all can be forgiven. Not true for the daughter of a vicar.”

  “Leave it be, Father. I have already decided on my wife.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Victoria awoke a few hours later to the sound of whispered arguing outside her bedroom. Straining, she finally realized it was Somerton and Lady Whitely. And their argument revolved around marriage.

  “How could you tell him who I should marry?” Somerton asked.

  “I was trying to help you.”

  “It wasn’t your place to do so. I never said I wanted to marry her.” His voice while quiet was harsh with anger.

  “Shh, you shall wake Victoria.”

  Hearing footsteps, Victoria pretended to sleep. She forced her breathing to remain calm even though her heart raced. The footsteps retreated, and she listened further. She had to know what this was about.

  “She is still asleep,” Lady Whitely stated.

  “I won’t marry that girl,” Somerton said in a harsh whisper. “I won’t.”

  “I had a feeling you would not. But I went to him before all this happened.”

  “But why did you go to him in the first place?”

  “I thought he might convince you it was the right thing to do,” Lady Whitely replied.

  “He is the last person I would listen to after all the lies.”

  Victoria wondered who this “he” was and why Somerton would not listen to him. She heard what sounded like Somerton’s heavy footsteps walking away from Lady Whitely. Why did this surprise her?

  Victoria blinked back the tears of heartache. She had known he would not marry her. But hearing him say so hurt her deeply. She had never had false expectations. They were from completely different worlds. Still, her heart ached.

  She loved him more than she ever thought she could. When he walked into that room in Maldon’s house, she had been certain he did it out of love for her. Now, she had no idea why he had followed her. Duty, perhaps.

  Responsibility. He’d told her that he felt guilty for dragging her into this case. All she had been was a responsibility to him. Now that she was on the mend, he could go about his business and forget about her.

  But she would never forget him.

  Sophie walked in so quietly that Victoria did not hear her until she neared the bed. “Why are you crying, Victoria? Are you in pain?”

  Yes! But Sophie wouldn’t have any herbs to mend her broken heart. “No, I—I…”

  “What happened, Victoria?” Sophie sat on the edge of the bed.

  “Oh, Sophie, I thought after all this that maybe there was a chance that he loved me. That maybe he would even ask for my hand.” Victoria brushed aside a tear. “But I’m just a foolish woman. We are from completely different backgrounds.”

  “Victoria, when you were in the confusion of your fever, Somerton only left your side when we forced him to. I have never seen a man so devoted to a woman. He loves you.”

  Victoria looked up at the white ceiling. “Perhaps, but not enough to marry me. And I never expected marriage so I don’t even know why I’m upset.”

  Sophie smiled down at her. “Because you love him. And you want to spend the rest of your life with him.”

  “Sophie, I love him so much it hurts.”

  “Why do you think he doesn’t want to marry you?” Sophie said, fussing with the blankets.

  “I heard him speaking with Lady Whitely. He said he would not marry me.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I think Lady Whitely is in love with him.”

  “What?” Sophie frowned. “That makes no sense. I will speak with him.”

  Victoria grabbed her hand. “Please, do not talk to him about this. The matter is between him and me. Not you. I know you love to see your matches work out, but this one isn’t meant to be. I will say good-bye to him and let him go.”

  “Should I send him up, then?”

  “Yes. I suppose I should get this over with now.”

  Sophie walked down the stairs feeling as if she were in a daze. Perhaps Victoria had been delirious and heard the conversation incorrectly. It didn’t matter how it happened, Somerton was going to fix this situation now. Sophie walked into the study and found him pacing the room.

  “What is wrong?” he asked as soon as she entered.

  “I was about to ask you that same question. You look as if you have received some terrible news.”

  He threw his hands into the air. “It is my parents, of course.” He walked over to the door and closed it. “Do you know that my father visits my mother?”

  “Visits as in…?”

  “Yes!”

  Sophie giggled. “Well, by law they are still married. So…”

  “That’s the same excuse she tried to use. She told me she was allowing him his husbandly rights.” He stopped in front of her. “Husbandly rights! She lets him into her room. She lets him into her bed!”

  “Anthony, maybe they still have some feelings for each other.”

  “Oh yes, lust. And they talk to each
other about Genna and I.” He released a low growl and started pacing again.

  “Sit down. You are making me insane with all the walking back and forth.” She waited for him to sit before continuing, “Just because your parents don’t have the relationship you wanted them to have doesn’t mean it is wrong. Perhaps they just cannot live together.”

  “That was her explanation.”

  “So maybe that is the truth for them. After your father spread the rumor that she had died, he would have no choice but to keep their affair a secret. She cannot come back from the dead.”

  “Why not, she did for me.”

  A knock sounded and Maggie poked her head into the room. “I’m sorry to disturb you but there is someone here to see Lord Somerton.”

  “Me? No one knows I’m here.”

  “She says she’s your sister, my lord.”

  “Genna? Send her in.” Somerton looked at Sophie, and said, “Would you like to meet your sister?”

  Sophie swallowed down a lump in her throat. She had wanted to meet Genna for as long as she had known Somerton. No words would come out of her mouth so she nodded.

  “I should have introduced you both a long time ago,” he said.

  “Please do not introduce me as your sister. It would only cause her pain.”

  He tilted his head. “Very well, then.”

  Genna entered the room, took one look at Somerton and ran into his arms. “Tony! I have been worried sick about you.”

  “Genna, I apologize. I should have sent you a note.”

  Genna turned her head toward Sophie and gasped. “I am sorry I didn’t realize you had company in here. Are you Miss Seaton?”

  “No, I am Sophie Reynard.”

  “The matchmaker!” She turned back to Somerton. “Is that what you have been doing? Trying to find a woman?”

  “No, I found her,” he replied with a genuine smile.

  Genna’s eyes widened. “You mean…Miss Reynard?”

  “No,” they both said at the same time.

  “How did you find out I was here, Genna?”

  “When Father arrived home a short while ago, I told him again how worried I was about you. He mentioned that you were here helping Miss Seaton.”

  “Father told you I was here.”

  “Yes.”

  Sophie stared at her younger sister with such a yearning in her heart. She’d never had a sister to share things with, talk with, or shop with.

  “Did Miss Reynard match you with someone?” Genna asked eagerly.

  Somerton looked over at Sophie. “I am not entirely certain.”

  “He might have had a little help. But he didn’t need much. He’s known for ten years who he was searching for.”

  “Well who is she?” Genna said. “I want to meet her.”

  “I suppose she might not mind too much. But she has been very sick so she is not herself. Perhaps just a quick introduction.” Somerton started to lead Genna out of the room.

  “Somerton, I wouldn’t advise introducing them just yet.” Sophie walked closer and whispered, “She is under some mistaken assumptions that you need to correct. Once that is done, I believe introducing your sister would be an excellent idea.”

  “What assumptions?”

  “Something about Lady Whitely being in love with you,” she said with a little grin.

  A feminine laugh sounded from the doorway. “How did she come up with that idea?”

  Sophie turned at the sound of Lady Whitely’s laugh. “I am not certain. But one of you needs to set her mind to rights.”

  “I will talk to her,” Anthony said, then looked at both Lady Whitely and Genna. He blinked and glanced over at Sophie.

  “Excuse me, I know I am being slightly rude, but have we met?” Genna asked Lady Whitely.

  Anthony groaned inwardly at the question. He was sick of the lies and secrets his family kept. But he had promised his mother not to speak of her being alive to Genna. As he watched the array of emotions cross his mother’s face, he just didn’t care any longer.

  “Genna, this is—”

  “Lady Whitely,” his mother interrupted in a harsh tone. “I live next door to Miss Seaton.”

  “Oh.” Genna’s dark brow furrowed. “I must be mistaken then. I am Genna, Lord Somerton’s sister.”

  “I know,” she whispered then covered her mouth.

  “How would you know?” Genna abruptly asked.

  “I have been friends with Lord Somerton for many years.” His mother looked away.

  Genna continued to stare at her mother. “Tony, did you ever notice how much she looks like that portrait of our mother? The one that hangs in Father’s study. It’s remarkable.”

  Anthony stared at his mother. Her eyes filled with tears. “Tell her,” he said to her. “Do it or I will.”

  “Perhaps, I should leave,” Sophie said quietly. “I do not belong here.”

  “Indeed?” Anthony said. “It seems to me you belong here just as much as I do. In fact, perhaps we should call Bronwyn into the room, too.”

  “Anthony!” his mother exclaimed. “Do not do this to me…and her.”

  “I am sick of the lies. Tell her.”

  “Genna, sit down on the sofa and we shall have a little talk,” his mother said gently.

  “What is going on?” Genna looked between them all.

  His mother closed her eyes. “Tell her, Anthony,” his mother whispered. “I just don’t think I can do it. I still remember the look on your face when you discovered the truth. And how you reacted.”

  “Sit down, Genna.” Anthony went to the sofa and took his sister’s hand. “Lady Whitely does indeed look like the portrait of Mother. That’s because she is our mother.”

  Genna’s face turned pale and for a moment, he thought she might faint.

  “No,” she whispered, shaking her head in denial. “Mother is dead. She died when I was only two.”

  “I did not die, Genna,” his mother replied softly. “Your father told you that because I left him. He wanted everyone to think I had died.”

  “No,” she said louder this time. Then she turned to him. “When did you find out?”

  Anthony closed his eyes against the painful memories. “Ten years ago.”

  “And you never told me?”

  “You were only ten years old. How could I explain what had happened to such a young girl? After I started to visit Mother, she asked me not to tell you.”

  “I cannot believe this,” Genna said. “And why did you infer that Miss Reynard should be part of this.”

  His mother sat down on the other side of Genna. “Genna, your father was having various affairs with widows in addition to the mistresses he kept. When I discovered your father had another daughter from one of his mistresses, I was furious. That was when I left him.”

  Genna looked at him with confusion.

  “Sophie is that daughter,” Anthony said.

  Genna stared over at Sophie. “You’re my half sister?”

  Sophie nodded. “I am.”

  “And who is Bronwyn? Another half sister?”

  “No,” his mother answered slowly. “She is your sister. And no, Anthony did not know about this until a few days ago. No one knew, especially not your father.”

  Genna put a hand to her forehead. “I do not understand any of this.”

  “Anthony and Sophie, please leave us to talk about all this,” his mother requested. “And someone bring Bronwyn in. I believe you are right, Anthony. The time for secrets is done.”

  Anthony walked upstairs to speak with Victoria while Sophie brought Bronwyn down to her mother. A sense of relief filled him now that his sister knew the truth. He hoped she would sympathize with their mother’s position better than he had when he had discovered her.

  Now he just had to tell Victoria everything.

  He walked into the room and found her sitting up in bed. Her cheeks were pink but not with fever for the first time in days.

  “How are you?” he a
sked as he took the chair by her bed.

  “Well,” she answered, staring down at the blue coverlet.

  “Did you eat?”

  “Yes.”

  “What is wrong, Victoria? You are not a woman who gives one word answers.”

  “All right.” She looked away from the coverlet to the fireplace. “I wanted to thank you for all that you have done for me the past few days.”

  “Then why are you looking at anything but me?”

  “Somerton, please, this is hard enough without your comments.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. There was more to this than just her believing Lady Whitely was in love with him. “Very well, continue.”

  She closed her eyes. “You have been here too long. People will start to talk. I think it might be best if you return to your home this afternoon.”

  “Indeed? So you would like me to leave and not return?”

  “Yes.”

  How could he have been so stupid? He never apologized for their argument about Bronwyn. “Is this about my getting angry with you about Bronwyn? I can explain.”

  “There is no need. I can only imagine how difficult it must have been to discover you have a daughter. If I had known she was yours, I would have told you.”

  “Even if Lady Whitely told you not to? Even if you would have lost everything if I had ascertained the truth?” He had to know the answer to his questions. Even if they were not relevant.

  “Yes. If there is a parent who can take care of their child, then I believe it is in the best interest of the child to be with that person.”

  Anthony tilted his head and looked at her. “I would agree. But if that is the case, why did you not request that Lady Whitely care for her daughter?”

  She rolled her eyes. “That is entirely different.”

  “How so?”

  “Lady Whitely could not raise a daughter in a brothel. It was in Bronwyn’s best interest to be raised here.”

  “And did you ever question Lady Whitely about the father?”

  “No,” she said, finally looking at him. “I just assumed he was some man who paid for her services, and she would not know which man it was.”

  “Ah,” Anthony said with a smile. “That makes sense. So now that you have determined I am her father, I should make arrangements to bring her to my home.”