A Lady's Guide to a Gentleman's Heart (The Heart of a Scandal Book 2)
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A Lady’s Guide to a Gentleman’s Heart
By
Christi Caldwell
A Lady’s Guide to a Gentleman’s Heart
Copyright © 2018 by Christi Caldwell
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without written permission.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.
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Other Titles by Christi Caldwell
Heart of a Duke
In Need of a Duke—Prequel Novella
For Love of the Duke
More than a Duke
The Love of a Rogue
Loved by a Duke
To Love a Lord
The Heart of a Scoundrel
To Wed His Christmas Lady
To Trust a Rogue
The Lure of a Rake
To Woo a Widow
To Redeem a Rake
One Winter with a Baron
To Enchant a Wicked Duke
Beguiled by a Baron
To Tempt a Scoundrel
The Heart of a Scandal
In Need of a Knight—Prequel Novella
Schooling the Duke
Lords of Honor
Seduced by a Lady’s Heart
Captivated by a Lady’s Charm
Rescued by a Lady’s Love
Tempted by a Lady’s Smile
Scandalous Seasons
Forever Betrothed, Never the Bride
Never Courted, Suddenly Wed
Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous
Always a Rogue, Forever Her Love
A Marquess for Christmas
Once a Wallflower, at Last His Love
Sinful Brides
The Rogue’s Wager
The Scoundrel’s Honor
The Lady’s Guard
The Heiress’s Deception
The Wicked Wallflowers
The Hellion
The Vixen
The Governess
The Bluestocking
The Theodosia Sword
Only For His Lady
Only For Her Honor
Only For Their Love
Danby
A Season of Hope
Winning a Lady’s Heart
The Brethren
The Spy Who Seduced Her
The Lady Who Loved Him
The Rogue Who Rescued Her
Brethren of the Lords
My Lady of Deception
Her Duke of Secrets
A Regency Duet
Rogues Rush In
Memoir: Non-Fiction
Uninterrupted Joy
Table of Contents
Other Titles by Christi Caldwell
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Other Books by Christi Caldwell
Biography
Prologue
Kent, England
Winter, 1821
One might say Heath Whitworth, the Marquess of Mulgrave, knew better than anyone when his mother, the Duchess of Sutton, was up to something.
For there could be no doubting…she was up to something.
And it was all because of that note she’d held in her fingers since he’d entered his father’s office. Folding the page she’d just read to him along its pointed crease, she neatly rested it on her husband’s immaculate desk. “Married. Our son is married.”
“Your youngest son,” Heath felt inclined to point out. He had decidedly married no one, and for that matter, had no intentions of doing so any time soon.
His droll announcement was swiftly ignored by his parents.
“Say it’s the Aberdeen girl,” his father gritted out.
The Aberdeen girl. Heath’s back went up, as it always did with any mention or sight of his mother’s goddaughter. Even a mention of Lady Emilia Aberdeen could never be good.
“Oh, come, Samuel. That does not make sense. Lady Emilia arrived earlier this afternoon with her parents and occupied the second chair from yours not even five hours ago. It could hardly be Emilia.”
And through it, the lady had looked as hopelessly bored as Heath himself. Who’d have imagined the two of them would have anything in common.
“Are you making light of… of… this?” his father was saying.
Now, this was much safer talk—mention of his brother Sheldon’s hasty marriage to a young widow with three children. Nonetheless, Heath cast a quick glance over his shoulder, considering the best path to escape. After all, there’d been talk of Emilia Aberdeen and that never proved good…in any way.
“Hardly, Samuel. I’d never dare jest about Emilia’s unwed state or our son’s recently wedded one.”
A vein bulged at the corner of his father’s right eye. The duke’s cheeks had gone red with angry color. His father fought for control of his temper.
This was the time for Heath to make his escape.
Heath shoved back his chair. “I’m not entirely certain my being here—”
“Sit,” his mother ordered, ending his hope of flight.
Bloody hell. Heath resettled himself back into his seat.
“Now,” she went on in her attempt at more measured tones, as she smoothed her skirts, “this requires attention from each of us. Whether you approve or not, Samuel, your son has married by special license.” The duke growled. “And the world is already abuzz with that news.”
“How can the world be abuzz?” Samuel waved the fast-wrinkling scrap about. “By the accounts of this, he’s been married just three days.”
Once more his parents launched into a debate about their just-married, younger son. Waiting…waiting, and then finding his window, he pounced. “Perhaps I should allow you both—”
His parents spoke in unison. “Sit.”
Yanking at his cravat, Heath fell back in his seat. “Damned younger brothers.” And damned responsibilities that went with being a ducal heir. One’s life was not one’s own. No part of it. His presence in the midst of one of his parents’ rows was proof enough of that.
His mother turned a frown on him. “I beg your pardon?”
This time, he was wise enough to fall silent, and thankfully she redirected her ire and energies back to her husband.
Through it, Heath’s guard remained up. He’d been summoned here…for a re
ason. And no summons from his mother could ever be a good one.
Not when Emilia Aberdeen’s name was mentioned.
“Now, for the second reason behind this family meeting…” His muscles tensed. It was coming… “There is the awkwardly uncomfortable matter of Lady Emilia Aberdeen.”
Heath snapped his brows together. And there it was. Emilia Aberdeen. She proved the reason Heath was here. It was inevitable. After all, Heath’s mother, best friend to Emilia’s mother, had been trying to marry the chit off since she’d been thrown over…by Heath’s best friend.
“What about her?” his father was asking impatiently.
“Well, all the guests have already suspected and whispered about our trying to coordinate a match between Emilia and Sheldon.”
Because that is precisely what his mother had been doing: trying to marry off her younger, more affable, son to her beloved goddaughter. Only to have been thwarted by Sheldon’s marrying another.
“We’ve inadvertently made Emilia the gossip of the house party.”
“Which will all be forgotten when Sheldon and his bride arrive,” he quickly put in, grasping at any out available to him.
His mother turned a stare on him.
He resisted the urge to squirm. Too obvious. He’d been too forceful with his previous assurance.
“Nonetheless, it stands to reason that none should suspect that she was here intending to be matched with Sheldon. After all, she’s already suffered a scandal no lady ought.” Betrothed to the Duke of Renaud; and Heath’s only friend in the world. The other man had broken it off with Lady Emilia years ago.
Emilia had paid the price in gossip ever since.
His stomach muscles clenched. I will not feel badly. I will not feel badly… That was after all, what his mother wished.
“I’d simply ask that you give Emilia some attention,” his mother said evenly, and he started, having failed to realize he’d been thinking aloud.
“Attention,” he echoed dumbly. Oh, this was bad. Nay, worse than he’d feared.
“Some indication that mayhap it was you we’d intended for her to make a match with, and then…”
Heath choked, the strangled cough cutting off his reply. His mother crossed over and thumped him between the shoulder blades.
“You want me to court her?” he managed between wheezes.
“I want you to simply act as though she is… someone you want to be around.” Never. “It’s the least you can do.”
That brought him up short. What in blazes was that supposed to mean? “What in blazes did I do?” he shouted.
“Your best friend is, after all, the one who jilted her.”
Damned Renaud. On the heel of that came a flood of guilt for the friend who’d had to break it off for reasons the world didn’t know. Not even Lady Emilia. Be that as it may… “I didn’t jilt the lady.” Heath spoke through gritted teeth. “I hardly know the lady.” Liar. You know she’s spirited and witty and—
“All this I-I-I, Heath. Really. Furthermore,” she continued, “it speaks a good deal to your snobbishness. We’ve been family friends with the Duke of Gayle since before your birth. You’ve known Emilia since she was in Leading strings. The least you can do is be friendly to the girl.”
Emilia wasn’t a girl. Not any longer. She was a woman more vibrant than the sunny creature she’d been as a child. “The girl is nearly thirty.”
“All I’m asking is that you be friendly with her. If she’s alone… see that she has company. Take the gossip off of Sheldon’s desertion and make Society question whether you, in fact, are the one with intentions towards her.”
His cravat was choking at him. Nay, his mother’s request was. He made a desperate appeal to the only one to make her see reason. “Mad, Father. Tell her she’s gone utterly insane.”
His father would choose that moment to go silent.
So there would be no help coming from that quarter. Or it would appear any…
“You both have your instructions,” Heath’s mother said, snapping her skirts. “Kindness… towards your son and his new family,” she directed at her husband. “And you towards Lady Emilia,” she said to Heath.
As she exited, Heath fell back in his chair.
His mother could hand out all the directives she wished. The last thing he wished to do was spend the holiday or any day, for that matter, entertaining Lady Emilia Aberdeen—his mother’s wishes be damned.
Chapter 1
No relationship can be built on a betrayal. That is, no relationship that is worth having.
Mrs. Matcher
A Lady’s Guide to a Gentleman’s Heart
Winter 1821
Kent
Later that week…
Lord Heath Whitworth, the Marquess of Mulgrave, had been trapped.
Not even for the first, nor second, nor third time. And in each instance, he found himself trapped by the usual suspect: his mother, the Duchess of Sutton.
This time, however, she was here for business.
Nor was his observation a figurative thought surmised from the determined glint in her eyes. She was literally before him bearing an official-looking paper.
That look combined with that page could only portend doom.
As such, there was just one thing a gentleman could do under such circumstances—go on the offense.
Folding his arms at his chest, he stared across the opposite end of the billiards table at her. “No.”
His mother crossed her own arms in a matching pose. The paper in her fingers dangled at her forearm. “I’ve not said anything.”
Yet. “Nor did you need to,” he put in smoothly. “Whatever you’re asking, I trust the safest answer is ‘no.’”
“For shame, Heath.” She gave him a hurt look. “Can’t I simply pay a visit to my son?”
“In the billiards room? In the middle of your house party with a sea of guests off in one of your many parlors, no less?” Given all that, he’d have to be a damned fool to believe—even with that wounded expression she’d donned—that there was anything less than mercenary in her presence here.
Just like that, the façade ended. His mother sharpened her gaze. “Very well. You’d prefer me to be direct.”
He hitched his hip onto the corner of the billiards table and with his spare hand urged her to have out with it. After all, he’d long ceased to be surprised, shocked, or horrified by his mother’s directives. “I’m listening.”
“I would like you to show Lady Emilia a good time.”
He lost his balance and landed hard on his arse.
Frowning, his mother came to stand over him. “I thought I’d been clear,” she went on, relentless. “And please stand this instant, Heath. I feel rather silly having this discussion with you sprawled on the floor.”
Really, this was what she found silly? And not the whole ordering him to show a respectable lady a good time?
“Well?” his mother demanded after he’d taken to his feet.
“You,” he began slowly, “want me to…” No. No matter how many times he attempted, he couldn’t force out the words ordered by his mother about this particular woman—ever. He found the nearest chair.
“You are usually far more clever than this, dear boy,” his mother chided, her disapproving tone making abundantly clear the endearment was really an insult. “I asked you to show her a good time.”
And there it was again. He cringed, for the fourth time since she’d stolen his blessed solitude.
And by the way she’d planted herself in front of him—arms folded—she was prepared for battle.
Heath tamped down a groan and peered around her at the door, contemplating escape.
His mother slid sideways, ending all hope of that endeavor. She clapped her hands once. “Do attend me. I asked you at the beginning of the house party to—”
Blast and damn. He sat upright in his seat. “Show her a good time. Yes, yes. I’ve quite heard you.” But hearing that order from his mother numerous ti
mes was enough to turn a man’s stomach worse than rancid kippers washed down with a glass of vinegar. “If you are interested in someone seeing to that particular goal, you’d be wise to consult Sheldon.” His younger brother by two years had long ago earned a reputation as a rogue.
His mother flicked his ear, and he cursed. “Bloody hell, that—oww,” he grunted as she gave it another flick. “What in blazes was that for?”
“The first was because you know your brother is newly and happily married and quite reformed.”
“And the other?” he groused, rubbing at the wounded lobe.
“Because of the cursing. Now, you very well know Sheldon cannot be the one to”—he tensed—“make Emilia’s time here enjoyable.” He relaxed at that less vulgar substitute.
“She, I suspect, would be entirely more appreciative if I am not the one to make her time enjoyable.”
“Emilia.”
“I assure you I know who we’re talking about.” His mother had been quite clear in her requests of Heath since the damned winter party had commenced. “How could I not know who we’re speaking of?” he drawled.
His mother snorted. “Are you certain, Heath? Are you truly certain, because since I found your hiding spot fifteen minutes ago, you’ve not managed to mention her name even once?”
“I’d hardly call the billiards room a hiding spot. Now, if I sought to hide, I’d seek out the former cellars or—the conservatory.” While he spoke, he angled his head ever so slightly, waiting for his moment.
“I know what you are doing, young man. And I assure you… it is not going to work.”
At thirty-two years of age, Heath hadn’t been a “young man” in more than a decade. “Tell me, Mother,” he drawled, “just what is it that I’m trying to do?”
She shifted, and Heath came quickly to his feet. He gave the door another longing look before making a beeline for the drink cart. His mother might be two decades his senior and wearing a gown and silk slippers, but she’d proven she could outrace any of her children at any age when she wished it.
“Avoid her,” she said flatly. “You are trying to avoid her.”
Yes, well, she had him there.
“I made myself clear when I asked you—”
“Ordered me.”
“—to pay Emilia some attention,” she continued over his interruption.