The Lady Loves A Scandal_Regency Novella

by Christina McKnight

  The Lady Loves A Scandal

  Regency Romance Novella

  Christina McKnight

  La Loma Elite Publishing

  Contents

  Foreword

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Epilogue

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  Also by Christina McKnight

  About Christina McKnight

  To my readers,

  Never let a little scandal dull your shine!

  Foreword

  THE LADY LOVES A SCANDAL was originally published in the 2018 Regency romance anthology, IT STARTED WITH A WHISPER.

  Prologue

  10 February 1815

  After nearly a year of courtship, I, Lady X, am fairly confident in announcing the betrothal of one Viscount Galway of Barrow Burn, Northumberland to Lady Sybil Anson, most recently of London, by way of Paris, France and sister to the newly entitled Eighth Earl of Lichfield. As you, my dear readers, may remember, Lady Sybil is new to town after spending her childhood in the city of love. This author can do naught but imagine the draw between the stoic, reserved Lord Galway, and the young, impish foreigner, Lady Sybil. I am certain all of society will agree, both Lady Sybil and Lord Galway come with sordid pasts.

  ~ Lady X

  London, England

  February 1815

  Lady Sybil Anson crouched ever lower until her rounded bottom nearly touched the rough, wooden slats of the floor of the hackney, her elbow resting precariously near a grease-covered metal piece. The constant jostle of the ramshackle conveyance as it moved leisurely through the crowded London streets was enough to loosen the pins securing her long tresses and sent shooting pains up her back to her neck. Certainly, a proper lady of the ton would never have used extreme trickery on her maid, fled her home under cover of night, traversed the dangerous alleys of London until she reached a well-traveled area of Regent Street, and hailed the first hack she spotted…all while keeping her hood pulled low, and the hem of her gown pulled high off the filth littering the streets.

  Though no one claiming even a speck of good sense would ever describe Lady Sybil as proper.

  Peculiar, maybe.

  Entrusted with an odd sense of humor, commonly.

  A lover of scandal, certainly.

  However, it wasn’t that she was any more unusual than other debutantes, or in possession of a dryer wit than many men of her acquaintance. The main difference was that she saw no need to mask her true self.

  Cast the blame on her upbringing in France; her finicky, absentminded mother; or the fact that her older brother raised her. Whatever the reason, Sybil stood silently by as others used her past as fodder during her first Season.

  Little did any of them know that Lady Sybil Anson did not give a bloody fig about their staunchly held beliefs on the ways a proper English miss should conduct herself while in polite company.

  The hack turned a sharp corner, sending her sprawling to the far side, her wrist and knee slamming against the high, wooden rail.

  “Damnation and hellfire,” she muttered. She flexed her fingers and rotated her wrist to test the damage.

  Pushing back to her seat, Sybil was encouraged to see they’d finally entered Grosvenor Square, where the roads were not riddled with potholes, and the evening traffic was sparse. Unfortunately, with the affluent neighborhood also came increased illumination from the row of townhouses flanking her on both sides of the street. Before departing her home, Sybil had made certain her hood shielded her from view and hid her long, dark hair. Even the sleeves of her cloak hung past her fingertips, the hem likewise long.

  The guise was not to stay above scandalous gossip.

  It was not her name—or that of her brothers—she worried over.

  Blessedly, the hack slowed and turned once more, this time into a well-manicured circular drive, shadowed from above by the looming stone edifice of the Galway Townhouse.

  “Stop here, sir,” Sybil called. The command earned her a questioning glance from the driver. “I have no plans to draw you into any unsavory dealings, I promise you.”

  She knew the townhouse before her very well. Far better than any unwed lady should know a lord’s London home. If anyone were to ask, she’d deny ever stepping foot into Galway Townhouse without her aunt or another relation as her chaperone.

  That Lady Sybil proclaimed herself in love with Gideon Lyndon, Viscount Galway, meant little to the gossips about London. That she was certain he held a tender for her as well was also of little import—at least until the betrothal contracts were signed.

  It made little sense that her being outside Gideon’s home after dusk with no chaperone would be taken as proof of her ruined status and have scandalous repercussions on her family’s already tarnished name. But in less than a day’s time, after the contracts were duly signed and witnessed, a minor indiscretion between betrothed couples could be overlooked. And people thought her peculiar.

  It made Sybil miss her time in Paris all the more. Days and nights spent free from worry over societal ridicule. People, young women included, given the opportunity to explore themselves and the city without fear of scandal. There were still rules to be followed, of course, but nothing as crushing and oppressive as her British counterparts.

  She shook her head at the thought. No, not her British counterparts. Her country, her home, her future.

  “Ye get’n down, miss?” the driver hissed in a hushed whisper. “I got me other fares ta earn.”

  “I need you to wait for me.” Sybil smoothed her cloak over her gown, made certain her hood was high, and checked the driveway for onlookers—it was abandoned, at least for the moment. “I will not be overlong—” At the driver’s hesitant stare, she continued. “And I shall pay triple your usual rate.”

  She’d known the man would agree long before he nodded in concurrence.

  Another lesson she’d learned during her time in London.

  With the right amount of funding, anything was possible—the finest gowns by the most sought-after modistes, the agreement of kept secrets, the quashing of gossip, and London hackney drivers willing to pick up and deliver any passenger without question.

  It likely also helped that her brother was the Earl of Lichfield and wed to the daughter of a wealthy marquess, eccentric as her new sister-in-law may be.

  “Lovely.” Sybil stood, pulling her sleeves down to cover her gloves as she took hold of the side of the conveyance and swung her leg over the rail, finding the large wheel with her foot before bringing her other leg over to join the first as she hopped to the cobbled drive. Clapping her hands together to remove any dirt, Sybil turned a bright smile on the driver. “Thank you, sir.”

  His birdlike eyes widened, and he appeared almost impressed by her resourcefulness.

  Sybil’s mother referred to her daughter’s practicality in all matters as gumption.

  Another thing lacking in every London debutante she’d met—and even some men.

  Another carriage rattled down the street behind her as the wind increased, pulling at her hood and the hem of her cloak. The moist, earthy aroma on the breeze foretold the coming rain, which was likely to fall sometime during the early morning hours and reduce to a light drizzle by first light.

  Sybil wrapped her arms around her midsection, determined to be safely home and abed before the first drops assaulted the filthy London streets. She made her way along the hedge to a shadowed area at the side
of Lord Galway’s townhouse. The small, cobblestoned space was blocked from view—neither a passing coach nor the butler at the front door would spy them. Even if someone knew they were present, the darkened alcove masked them entirely.

  The racing of her heartbeat at moments like these was fairly addicting.

  The risk, the intrigue, the barely contained need that boiled inside her…

  Sybil sped up as she moved down the hedge, arriving at the spot where she’d told Gideon to meet her. A part of her feared this excitement would fade once they were officially betrothed—not to mention once the wedding took place. Certainly, their adventure would continue even when they no longer had to sneak about town to see one another without a proper chaperone.

  Holding her breath, she waited, certain she’d hear the familiar, solid footsteps that were Gideon’s trademark. He was confident, though never arrogant. He was kind, yet never with an air of pity. He was stoic, but Sybil knew the man beneath the dour, reserved facade.

  The minutes passed, and a spike of anxiety coursed through her. Had Oliver, the bookseller, gotten her message to Gideon in time? Was the viscount in residence this evening, or had he gone to his club, never knowing she wished to meet?

  A tendril of doubt wormed its way into her thoughts.

  Doubt. A funny emotion—and one that never pertained to Lord Galway.

  He was dependable to a fault, unlike so many other things in Sybil’s life.

  She released a heavy sigh when, finally, his heavy footfalls sounded on the cobbled drive, moving in her direction.

  “Sybil?” his deep baritone was almost disapproving and menacing in the darkness. “It is after midnight. What are you doing gallivanting about the dangerous city? I thought Mr. Oliver quite mad when he delivered your note earlier.”

  Her heart, only moments before racing with anticipation, almost stopped when Gideon stepped into the shadows with her, throwing his arms wide to greet her. Without thought, she rushed into his waiting embrace.

  “I had to see you, Gideon,” Sybil gushed, perturbed by the weakness evident in her voice.

  “I will be round tomorrow—or, I suppose, later today—to sign the contracts.”

  “Are you certain?” Even after their yearlong courtship, Sybil feared Gideon would change his mind. Cry off…leave her.

  “Of course,” Gideon said, his words clipped, but he pulled her closer still and tucked her head under his chin. “The negotiations are complete. Everything is finalized except our signatures on the paperwork. I am to arrive on the morrow at eleven sharp. I anticipate that everything will be official by noon.”

  “Silas has forbidden me to join you until it is time to put my name to the agreements.”

  “It is the way of things, my love.” Her heart skipped a beat at the endearment, but she pulled back from his embrace, and he rubbed his hands up and down her arms as if he could impart a bit of warmth. “Business is handled by men, though that does not mean I value your input any less.”

  “I think you appreciate more than my input, my lord,” Sybil said coyly.

  “I value much about you, my lady.”

  “Like what?” She couldn’t help but provoke him. It was in these private moments that Gideon allowed his usual stoic exterior to crumble and fall—at least for a few moments. “Tell me, or I shall remain here all night.”

  “Your complex musings,” he said with a smile, leaning forward and placing a kiss on her forehead. Sybil couldn’t halt her giggle. “Your enchanting brown eyes.”

  “My mud puddle murky eyes, you mean?” It was their game, and Sybil allowed her lids to slide shut. Gideon placed a kiss on each.

  “Your button nose that is usually stuck somewhere it does not belong,” he mumbled before pressing his lips to the tip of said appendage. “And your rosebud-red lips.”

  When he didn’t immediately kiss her, Sybil opened her eyes and gazed up into his light gray stare.

  Heat pooled at the junction of her thighs.

  Part of her hated that Gideon could bring her so quickly to desire while he remained seemingly unaffected.

  “You are a poet, my lord,” she whispered.

  “And you are the enchantress who feeds all my poetic ramblings,” he countered.

  “I love you, Gideon Lyndon,” she confessed, pushing to her tiptoes until their lips were a mere inch apart. “I cannot wait until the day I am Viscountess Galway.”

  “Would you love me as much if I were a…” He paused, pursing his lips in thought. “A fishmonger? Or a vendor in Hyde Park or at Covent Gardens?”

  “Would you risk your reputation as a gentleman to meet me in a darkened drive if I were an orange seller outside the theatre?”

  “Yes,” they both chimed in unison.

  “Let us hope we never test those fates.” Sybil laughed.

  His reserved veneer returned as his eyes searched hers. Sybil was uncertain what he hoped to find.

  “It was highly improper and unsafe for you to journey out tonight,” he scolded. “What if something had happened? Or worse yet, you were taken and disappeared?”

  Sybil grinned up at him. “Come now, Gideon, for all the talk of London’s perilous streets, I know not of a single person being taken—especially the sister of an earl, the soon-to-be betrothed lady of a viscount.”

  His eyes darkened as he stepped back from her, his head shaking.

  “We have met in similar ways the entirety of our courtship,” she chided. “I am still whole.”

  Sybil patted her chest to prove she was unscathed, yet her attempt at dispelling his unease did naught to return them to their previous light banter.

  “We have convened in a shielded grove in Hyde Park, at the bookseller off Bond, and outside both our homes, but never, ever so close to the witching hour.” He pressed his lips to hers, but it was not their usual sweet kiss. His lips were firm and almost punishing. “If anything ever happened to you, I would not be able to go on.”

  He held her stare until she consented, “I will do nothing so foolish again.”

  His lips softened, and the hint of a smile returned. “Although, I can admit having you at my home—at least, outside my home—at such an hour, brings many scandalous thoughts to mind.”

  “Oh, do tell—“

  A horse whinnied close by, and Sybil glanced over her shoulder to see the mare tied to the hack as it stepped from foot to foot and tossed its head back with another neigh.

  “I should go,” Sybil said.

  “I will accompany you home.” Gideon glanced toward his townhouse. “Allow me to summon my carriage.”

  Placing her gloved hand on his arm, Sybil called for him to wait. “Your coach could be seen, and that would lead to scandal. What if someone saw? I promised I would not bring any disgrace upon you.”

  “I cannot, in good conscience, allow you to—“

  “I made it here without incident, my lord,” she rushed to say.

  “Be that as it may—“

  The deafening sound of horses’ hooves pierced the air, sending the hack’s mare into another bout of distress as a lone man on horseback raced into Gideon’s drive. The rider pulled to a halt mere feet from the front door, and Sybil feared for a moment that he was set on riding right through the wooden portal.

  Gideon stiffened before her.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Sybil asked.

  Had her brothers discovered her missing? Had her maid returned to Sybil’s chambers to check on her mistress, found her not in residence, and alerted the entire household?

  Sybil sighed in relief when the man dismounted and stepped into the pool of light cast by the torches hung outside Gideon’s door.

  “Wait here,” Gideon demanded, but he did not await her reply as he stalked from the shadows and addressed the rider, stopping him before the man pounded his clenched fist on the door.

  The men stood close as they talked in hushed whispers that were carried away on the night breeze before they reached Sybil.

&nb
sp; Finally, Gideon nodded and motioned for the man to go inside as he turned and started back toward Sybil.

  Halting before her Gideon asked, “Are you certain you will be safe to return home alone?”

  Suddenly, Sybil wasn’t sure at all, but she would risk the unimaginable to avoid admitting that she’d been wrong to depart her home at midnight for their final clandestine meeting before their betrothal was officially announced.

  Not trusting her voice to remain steady, Sybil bobbed her chin up and down.

  “Good,” he sighed. “I will see you on the morrow. Dream joyfully in your slumber.”

  “Who is the man?” she dared ask. “He seemed rather urgent in his arrival.”

  “It is nothing to worry about,” Gideon said, but it did little to ease her apprehension. “Only a long-standing matter I’ve been attempting to rectify for some time.”

  Sybil’s brow pulled low. If Gideon had hidden something from her before she hadn’t noticed. But she was not foolish enough to think that a man arriving during the middle of the night was of no consequence. Questioning Gideon further would gain her nothing, however, unless she wished to start their betrothal with the mark of a nagging woman.

  Gideon pulled her into his arms as his finger traced down her cheek and along her jawline. A shiver raced the length of her spine, and she pressed her body against his.

  Soon enough, they’d be free to touch, caress, and kiss one another to their hearts’ content, but for now, Sybil needed to return home before anyone noticed her missing. Besides, Gideon obviously had other matters to attend to before meeting with Sybil’s brother in the morning.

  “Farewell, my love.”

  “Until later.” Sybil grinned up at him, determined not to allow the man waiting inside the Galway Townhouse to ruin this moment for her.