Johanna Lindsey

by Marriage Most Scandalous

  I had originally intended to pretend a divorce in the same manner we pretended the marriage. I can let it be known why I married him, or not. I’ll decide that at the time. Most of the ladies in the neighborhood consider it scandalous that I married him a’tall, so it might be a relief if I explain, so they can stop thinking I’ve lost my mind.”

  Florence sighed. “A divorce is so—”

  “Yes, I know,” Margaret cut in. “Quite the stigma. But I am wealthy and my son stands to inherit a title. The notoriety of being a divorced woman shouldn’t affect that.” Florence humphed. “I don’t know why you refuse to acknowledge the fact that you’re a prime catch, Maggie. You don’t need to bribe yourself a husband.”

  “I never refuted that. I’m just too set in my ways to put myself forward in the normal manner. Too impatient, too, to deal with a traditional courting.”

  “Nonsense. You’ve got the patience of a saint, or you wouldn’t have waited this long to make a proper effort to find a husband. You should have just gone to London, enjoyed the social whirl, and let nature take its course. You would have had yourself a husband, a real one, in no time, and wouldn’t now be facing the scandal of a divorce.”

  “I have the fortitude to weather that storm. But what about you? Are you going to let John leave with Sebastian without trying to convince him to stay?”

  Florence paled with the realization, “He will be leaving, won’t he? What bloody rotten luck that your marriage isn’t a real one as we all thought.”

  Margaret found herself actually agreeing, though she wouldn’t say so. If there weren’t so many extenuating circumstances for why marriage to Sebastian was out of the question, she might follow her own advice. But Florence wasn’t so restrained.

  “You could ask him to stay,” she reiterated.

  “I can’t be that bold. Our acquaintance hasn’t progressed that far, though I’ve been hopeful and encouraged that it soon would. Why don’t you ask Sebastian to stay? You know you want to.” The trouble with close friends was they could read right through you. Margaret sighed. “Because I already know his answer. The reason he wants to bolt back to Europe so quickly is that he fears Douglas will demand a real marriage if he finds out we just faked one.”

  “How the devil would he find out?”

  “From Sebastian. He seems to think that Douglas will open the doors fully again in approval when he hears of the marriage, and that will so stick in Sebastian’s craw that he’ll confess the truth. So he intends to avoid Douglas at all costs. The man doesn’t want to be married for real.” He was so desperate to be gone that he wasn’t even going to investigate his brother’s dilemma, whatever it was, even though if anyone could get to the bottom of that, Sebastian could. Considering that, she was surprised he’d agreed to stay for the party.

  She supposed she should warn Sebastian that while it was very unlikely that Douglas would exert himself beyond leaving his room today, he might attend the dowager duchess’s party, if only to make a brief appearance. No, she didn’t think she would. It was time for fate to step in, and just maybe, it would favor her.

  Chapter 42

  A LBERTA DORRIEN’S MANSION was the showcase of the neighborhood. It had taken several years to build, and the lady hadn’t actually moved to the neighborhood until it was finished. Her first grand ball had been talked about for months, right up until she threw the second ball. Margaret had been too young to attend either but had certainly heard about them.

  The dowager duchess had actually designed her property for entertaining. Not only was the ballroom immense, but also the parlor, the music room, the billiards room. There was even a large room strictly for gambling, filled with card tables. The only room that wasn’t huge was the dining room, since sit-down dinners were reserved for only her close set of friends. She fed the masses at her large parties with buffets, and since she employed not one but four cooks, each one a master, no fault could be found with that arrangement.

  Her invitations were sent far and wide and were eagerly sought, and she’d even prepared in advance for that by building actual guesthouses. Not of the traditional sort, they were like miniature mansions! And all of them were usually used for a ball.

  The party tonight wasn’t of the grand sort, it was merely a local gathering. Only Alberta could get away with throwing a party on such short notice and expect full attendance. But other engagements could be broken. No one declined the dowager duchess’s invitations. They were treated like a royal summons!

  Margaret still hadn’t expected to see quite so many carriages lined up, waiting to unload their passengers. She had to allow, though, that the draw tonight was more likely Sebastian. The entire neighborhood would be eager to learn if he’d been reinstated or not. It would be interesting to see if anyone would dare to ask him.

  She was rather pleased with him at the moment. She didn’t think it would last, but at least he’d got into the spirit of the occasion and was dressed properly in formal togs. Not too formal, but definitely evening wear.

  It was only the second time she’d seen him wearing a cravat, or an underwaistcoat, for that matter. Pearl gray satin it was, very subdued with his black tailed coat and the white cravat. No bright colors for him. She had to agree that gaudy just wouldn’t suit him. No haircut for the occasion, though, but she was so used to the clubbed-back queue he wore that he’d probably look odd to her without it.

  No top hat, either. John had actually found one for him, but when presented with it at the door just as they were leaving, Sebastian had given his valet such a hard stare that John had put the hat on his own head and stomped off. That had relieved the tense moment when she’d come down the stairs and was met with Sebastian’s brow raised appreciatively. It flustered her to no end when his glance turned admiring. She’d grown accustomed to dealing with his ominous looks, but when his golden eyes turned sensual, she forgot how to breathe.

  Edna had done her proud, though, in her own attire and coiffure. Her evening gown was a deep burgundy wine color with white satin cord trimmings. The puffed shoulders weren’t too bouffant and had the white cording interlaced with the dark velvet. Satin slippers in the same dark burgundy peeked out from under her full skirt.

  Margaret couldn’t deny that she was nervous about the party. Nor had she seen Sebastian since they returned to her house. Not once. So she’d been unable to discuss her worry with him. In fact, he made himself so scarce that she might have thought he’d changed his mind and left if she hadn’t seen John about.

  She supposed it was for the best. He’d be gone for good tomorrow. She had to get used to that.

  If she’d thought anything positive would have come from this last day they could have spent alone, well, she should have known better.

  Knowing that tonight would be the last time she’d ever see him put quite a damper on her spirits.

  And ended her nervousness. Aware of him more than she cared to be on the drive to Alberta’s, she did sense his own tension.

  As their coach slowly moved forward in the line, she asked him, “You aren’t going to disappear on me, are you?”

  “Play the coward? You wound me.”

  She snorted. “You look wounded, ’deed you do. But this is going to be easy,” she added, hoping to convince herself of that as well. “Just treat it like any normal party. Accept the well-wishes graciously, evade the questions. See? Nothing to it.”

  “I recognized the Wemyss coach a few in front of us,” he said baldly.

  “Oh, dear.” Margaret frowned. “I can’t imagine why Cecil would come—unless he didn’t dare to ignore Alberta’s summons either.”

  “Look on the bright side, Maggie. He’s probably here to shoot me. Save you the trouble of a divorce.”

  She glared at him. “That isn’t funny.”

  “It isn’t beyond the realm of possibility, either,” he replied.

  “Nonsense. He took Giles’s death hard, even somehow blamed Douglas for not preventing it, or they wouldn’t be
estranged. But he’s gone on with his life. I heard he’s currently courting some duchess he met in London.”

  “How nice for him,” he said with disinterest.

  She narrowed her eyes on him suspiciously. “You were just trying to distract me, weren’t you?”

  “You looked like you were the one about to bolt, yes.”

  She could wish he wasn’t so astute. “It’s your fault,” she said defensively. “You were coerced, as it were, to be here tonight. Given that, it’s a reasonable assumption that you’ll make no effort to see the evening go smoothly.”

  “As I recall, these things can last all bloody night,” he said. “But as long as we don’t stay till the end, I’ll muddle through this.”

  “Certainly,” she assured him. “We can leave as soon as it’s decent to do so.”

  “Then relax, Maggie. I’m not going to kill anyone tonight.” That was a slap and uncalled for. She hadn’t thought he’d do any such thing. But before it occurred to her that he might merely have been teasing, he leaned forward, caught her hand, and pulled her across to his side of the coach and into his lap. There wasn’t even time to gasp before he was kissing her.

  It was the kiss she would remember most clearly because it was beyond sensual, beyond thrilling.

  If she wanted to be romantic, she would say he put his heart into it. The way he held her, firmly yet so gently. The way his hand cupped her cheek, so tenderly. He wasn’t trying to incite her desire, and yet she couldn’t get this close to him and not have it rise. But it was warm, it was sweet, and it drew her into participating rather than demanding that she do so.

  All thoughts of the party in their honor were gone. She could have stayed there all night in his arms, tasting the delicious languor of that kiss.

  She was brought back to earth rather hard when he set her back on the seat across from him and said, “There, now you look married instead of like a sacrificial virgin. We’ve arrived. Get out of the coach, Maggie.”

  Chapter 43

  M ARGARET HAD ANGRY COLOR still high on her cheeks after the dirty trick Sebastian had played on her in the coach, kissing her simply so she’d look like she’d just been kissed. For the role they were playing, not because he wanted to kiss her. But her cheeks got even hotter, with embarrassment, when the hush fell on the room as they entered the large parlor.

  It had nothing to do with curiosity finally being appeased as Sebastian’s neighbors got their first look at him after eleven years. There was some surprise, surely, but there was a lot more alarm and wariness in the expressions she could see. The men even glanced away a bit too quickly, as if they feared catching his gaze.

  “Good God, they’re terrified of you,” Margaret gasped quietly. “You couldn’t send The Raven away for just one night?”

  Sebastian glanced down at her and scoffed, “You exaggerate, m’dear. And why do you continue to think The Raven is a role I play?”

  “You forget I’ve seen you with your grandmother. The old Sebastian is still there.”

  “I take pains to conceal from her who I’ve become. The Raven is a result, Maggie, not a contrivance. It’s what the last eleven years have made me.”

  “Then take some more pains to conceal that man tonight, would you? Or is this how you planned to avoid any questions you don’t care to answer? A splendid idea, appear so menacing no one will dare to approach you.”

  He actually grinned at her. “Maggie, you’re starting to think like me. But as it happens, I had no particular plan for the evening. If anyone is so rude as to ask personal questions, he’ll merely be met with the silence he deserves. Is this better?”

  He smiled at her so widely she could count his teeth. “No,” she said huffily. “It bloody well looks like you intend to bite me.”

  He burst out laughing. She was so disconcerted by his laughter, because it was genuine that she didn’t notice Alberta approaching them until the lady spoke.

  “Welcome home, Sebastian. Is your father feeling well enough to join us tonight?” Maggie almost laughed now. That wasn’t a personal question by any means, but it would certainly answer the one on everyone’s mind—if father and son had reconciled.

  And yet Sebastian managed to avoid a direct reply by saying, “I didn’t think to ask.” Unfortunately, the duchess turned her gaze on Maggie with the same question in her expression, forcing Maggie to add, “Neither did I. But with Douglas back on his feet, we returned to White Oaks this morning. He is still convalescing, though, so I doubt he’s feeling up to socializing just yet.” Alberta tsked. “Yes, I should have taken that into account at your suggestion and delayed this party for at least another week or two. But hindsight, while superior, is rarely useful in correcting an error. So let me be the first to congratulate you this evening. You’ve made quite the catch, Sebastian. We were beginning to wonder if our dear Maggie would ever find a chap to suit her. So many have tried, you know.”

  “No, I didn’t know,” Sebastian said with a raised brow at Maggie.

  “Now, now, Sebastian, there’s no reason for jealousy to rear its ugly head,” Alberta said.

  “Beautiful gel like her, it was to be expected. Had them camping on the steps of Edgewood while she was staying there. It quite amused Douglas, I’m sure.”

  Margaret was blushing by then and said defensively, “I was fresh out of the schoolroom and nowhere near thinking about marriage yet. It was a bloody nuisance, if you must know, having all those young bucks showing up, half of them I didn’t even know!”

  Alberta chuckled. “M’dear, that’s when all you young gels get married.”

  “Douglas was kind enough not to point that out and let me decide for myself.”

  “Which was fortunate for me,” Sebastian put in, coming to Maggie’s rescue.

  “Indeed!” Alberta was forced to agree. “Well, come along, then. I can’t monopolize you when everyone here is eager to wish you well.”

  Margaret managed not to laugh, since she was sure everyone there would just as soon not speak to Sebastian, given their initial reaction to him. But she was surprised. His earlier laughter had eased most of the guests’ wariness, and in the next hour, the well-wishing did sound genuine. Only Cecil and his fiancée hadn’t spoken to them, and Alberta had the good sense not to force that particular confrontation.

  She left them soon after to mingle. “Thank God that’s over with,” Sebastian remarked.

  Margaret shared his sentiments, though she allowed, “That went much better than I expected.”

  “I passed muster, did I?” he replied dryly.

  She looked up at him and was struck again by how handsome he was.

  “Indeed. One might actually think you were Sebastian Townshend, rather than The Raven.” He didn’t actually roll his eyes at her, but she had the feeling he would have if the old Sebastian really were in attendance. But then abruptly, any amusement he’d been experiencing vanished.

  He couldn’t have looked more somber when he said, “I have one more duty I feel obliged to perform.”

  She went very still. He was staring at Cecil. She didn’t have to ask what he meant. She ought to talk him out of it. It wouldn’t be pleasant for either man. But that word “duty” kept her from trying.

  “I’ll fetch some punch,” she said, but added hesitantly, “or would you like reinforcements?”

  “I doubt your presence would ease the situation. Cecil always was one to speak his mind.” She nodded. “Then let us hope he can do so quietly.”

  Chapter 44

  S EBASTIAN RECOGNIZED THE WOMAN with Cecil. The duchess of Felburg had aged very well and still bore a close resemblance to the picture he’d been shown, which had been taken more than twenty years ago.

  He thought it rather foolish of her to let it be known she was a duchess in the country where she was seeking refuge from a vengeful duke. Even more foolish to plan to marry an Englishman when she already had a husband. Did Cecil know? No, of course not, or he wouldn’t have asked the lady to ma
rry him.

  “Cecil?”

  Giles’s father turned and flushed angrily at the sight of Sebastian. “You dare speak to me? My presence here doesn’t mean I condone yours. Get out of my sight!” Sebastian had steeled himself for this. Cecil’s reaction didn’t surprise him.

  But before he could reply, the woman standing with Giles’s father implored in a low voice, “Cecil, please, do not cause a scene. I am barely accepted here yet.” He patted his fiancée’s hand, which was resting on his arm and gave her a reassuring smile. It was apparent now that he’d come to the party only for her sake.

  “I will keep that in mind, m’dear,” he told her. “Now, if you will give me a moment—”

  “She should stay,” Sebastian said. “I have news she will want to hear. But first—I’m sorry, Cecil.

  No one regrets Giles’s death more than I do.”

  “Don’t,” the older man choked out. “I come home to find my son dead and already buried. And you—”

  “It was an accident,” Sebastian cut in. “You can’t really think I meant to kill him? I went there to fire into the air. If he was angry enough to kill me, so be it. But his bullet nicked my arm, lowering it just as I fired. Good God, did no one ever tell you what happened there?”

  “Does that bring him back?” Cecil demanded. “He was my only son!” For such an emotional statement, Sebastian would have expected to see more than just anger in Cecil’s eyes. But nothing else could have brought the pain back so strongly for him than those particular words. His own heart ripped open, “He was my best friend! How many times do I have to die because of that slut he married?”

  “Please!” the duchess begged again.