by Merry Farmer
“Hardly,” Lionel laughed. “Hazel has much more rugged tastes. And I don’t blame her one bit. That blacksmith she has her eye on is like cake smothered with honey.”
Lenore raised a hand to cover her snorting giggle. Lionel was shameless, and she loved him like a brother for it.
“Oh, dear,” Lionel sighed, his blue eyes sparkling with fondness as he glanced back to Mr. Wirth. “David looks completely out of his depth. I really should show him how this whole socializing with nobs thing is done.” He arched one eyebrow, cheeks glowing pink, before breaking away from Lenore and Phin and crossing the room to join Mr. Wirth’s conversation with Lord and Lady Campbell.
“He’s going to land himself in hot water someday,” Phin said with a wry grin.
“Knowing your brother, he’ll probably enjoy the hot water and treat it as a spa,” Lenore laughed, hugging his arm.
“But he’s the one who uncovered the proof that your marriage to Swan wasn’t legal, wasn’t he?” Freddy asked, stepping up to take the spot that Lionel had vacated, Reese by his side.
Lenore let go of Phin long enough to hug each of her friends in turn. “He was,” she said, mischief bright in her eyes. “I should have known Bart didn’t follow the proper channels to file the marriage license.”
“And I should have guessed that Lionel would find a way to prove he didn’t, even if he actually did,” Phin added in a wry tone.
“So which is it?” Reese asked, grinning. “Was your marriage to Swan legal or not?”
“I’m not sure I’ll ever know,” Lenore said, sobering a little. “But from what Papa said in his last letter, it’s fairly likely Bart will hang for the murders he committed. So in the end, it’s a moot point.”
“And no one is going to question the legality of our marriage,” Phin added.
Lenore stepped back to his side, hugging his arm. Even if someone did question it, she rather relished the idea of the scandal that would erupt, should it be discovered that she and Phin were living in sin instead of being legally married. She’d married him in her heart, and that was all that mattered. But the prospect of a second, lavish wedding to make things legal wasn’t entirely unwelcome. Only the future would tell if they would have that new scandal on their hands.
“What is it that Shakespeare says? And I know how you Brits love Shakespeare,” she added. “All’s well that ends well?”
“It does and it is,” Phin said, gazing down on her with enough love to light the skies with fireworks. “Although with us, the ending is probably only the beginning of an entirely different adventure.”
I hope you’ve enjoyed Lenore and Phin’s story! They really are each other’s match. The savvy History nerds among you might notice that I shifted the dates of the Wyoming Range Wars—also called the Johnson County Wars—forward by a couple of years. The bloody and shocking confrontations in Wyoming that accompanied the consolidation of smaller ranches into much larger, almost corporate ranches actually began in 1887 and lasted for several years. They were every bit as horrific and murderous as Lenore reported them to be. And seeing as the members of the WSGA and their associates more or less were the government of Wyoming, in actuality if not in name, during that time, it’s entirely plausible that one of their number could railroad the legal channels responsible for marriage to bind Lenore to Bart. Which means it’s equally as plausible that the legality of that marriage wouldn’t hold up in any other court of law.
Just a note on Victorian erotica, while we’re at it…. Guys, I’ve read some of the stuff, and if you think the steamy Romance novels we write in the 21st century are salacious, you ain’t seen nothin’! In spite of having a reputation as prudes and moralizers, the Victorians were actually pretty dirty and open-minded, particularly in the upper classes. So don’t be tempted to think that my characters are too modern or progressive in their thinking for the time period I’m writing about! Those late-Victorians got around!
If you’ve fallen in love with the character of Lionel Mercer as much as I have, be sure to check out my gay historical romance series The Brotherhood, which begins with Just a Little Wickedness. Lionel and David Wirth are recurring characters in that entire series, and they have their own romance in the book Just a Little Seduction.
And if you happen to be curious about whether Lady Beatrice will get her proposal from Lord Harrison in time for Christmas, you’re going to love the next book in The May Flowers series, ’Twas the Night Before Scandal, which is available for preorder now! Will the proposal come off without a hitch or will there be all sorts of mad-capped Christmas hijinks before they get there? (I’ll give you three guesses as to the answer to that one!) Keep clicking to get started reading ’Twas the Night Before Scandal!
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AND NOW, GET STARTED ON ‘TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE SCANDAL…
London – Just before Christmas, 1887
Christmas was only a few days away, and Lady Beatrice Lichfield still didn’t have an engagement ring on her finger. That fact wouldn’t have caused her distress as she worked, tying bows with sprigs of holly for the decorations that were going up all over the rented hall in Clerkenwell, where the May Flowers were holding their charity event for the benefit of several London orphanages. In fact, not wearing jewelry of any sort was a great boon when it came to the delicate work she was required to do with her hands to create the decorations. And no shiny bobbles meant that some of the more mischievous orphans who were helping with preparations weren’t tempted.
But it had been months—no, years—since Bea had set her heart on Lord Harrison Manfred, Marquess of Landsbury. They’d been a part of the same group of friends ever since Bea joined the May Flowers and made the acquaintance of the likes of Lady Diana Pickwick, her very best friend in the entire world, Cecelia Campbell—who was now Lady Marlowe—and Bianca Marlowe—who was now Lady Clerkenwell and the hostess of the event. Through her female connections, Bea had been introduced to Harrison, and as far as she was concerned, it was love at first sight.
She’d always thought Harrison felt the same way, but as she stood at the long table, piled high with loose ribbon, boughs of holly and pine, wire to craft the decorations with, and bits and pieces of donations that had been delivered to the hall, staring at her sadly naked fingers, she heaved a sigh.
“What sort of silly, maudlin thoughts are going through your head to cause such a sigh?” Diana asked with a sardonic grin, stripping excess leaves off a sprig of holly for her decorations.
Bea glanced guiltily up at her friend, knowing full well what Diana thought of the situation. Diana was as brilliant and prickly as the holly she worked with—lovely and useful, but full of unexpected spikes and barbs. She was a beauty of the highest order as well, with dark hair and eyes, a clear, pale complexion, and a figure that made London’s finest modistes compete for her custom. By contrast, Bea considered herself sallow and skinny, with too much strawberry-blonde hair and eyes that couldn’t decide whether they were blue or green. No wonder Harrison was taking his time deciding whether he wanted to be shackled to her for the remainder of his life.
“I’m merely anxious that we won’t be able t
o finish decorating in time for the party on Christmas Eve,” she said, though she was a terrible liar. Her cheeks flared bright pink every time she so much as thought something dishonest.
Diana’s grin was all the proof she needed that her friend could see right through her. “Christmas Eve is still three days away, dearest. Which gives us ample time not only to finish decorating this hall, as shabby and cavernous as it is—” She glanced up at the rafters and around at the vast, bustling room in all its run-down glory. “—but to collect enough clothing, toys, and essentials to give half the orphans in East London the very merriest of Christmases.”
“You’re right.” Bea forced herself to smile and take a breath to clear her head. “I suppose I’m overly worried for nothing.”
Her attention was drawn to the door at the far side of the room as soon as she was finished speaking. Harrison had just entered, along with his close friend, Lord John Darrow, Viscount Whitlock—who also happened to be Diana’s arch-nemesis—carrying a tall pine tree between them. Bea’s heart ran riot in her chest, thumping against her ribs and causing her to gulp for breath. Harrison was simply the handsomest man she’d ever laid eyes on. He was tall and well-formed, like so many of the cricket players he and John idolized. His face was kindness personified, with soulful, hazel eyes that displayed his emotions as though they were a stage. He smiled at several of the orphans who were there to help with decorations as they rushed to see the tree, saying something to them that Bea couldn’t hear from the other side of the room, but that she was certain was full of sweetness and wisdom.
She’d longed to be Harrison’s wife from the moment he’d asked her to waltz with him at the ball where they’d met. His arms had felt so sure and certain around her, and the way he’d smiled at her and asked gentle, interesting questions to get to know her as they danced made her feel as though she were the most important woman in the—
“If you were any more obvious, the fire brigade would barge through the doors to douse you with ice water, Bea,” Diana snapped at Bea’s side.
“What? Oh, I—” Bea’s face flared even hotter. She snapped her head down to focus on the bow she was tying, only to discover that she’d made three knots and trapped her fingers between the ribbon. “I was just….” She gave up her attempt at an explanation with a sigh. Diana knew the truth of things anyhow.
“I don’t see how you could care for a man who spends so much of his time in the company of an absolute bounder,” Diana growled, staring daggers across the room at Lord John. Although, if Bea’s guess was right, the heat in Diana’s eyes every time she glared at John was of a different sort than what Diana imagined it to be. “I see it as a distinct lack of character that your beau has such wicked friends.”
“Lord John isn’t wicked.” Bea broke into a grin and sent Diana a sideways look. “And Harrison is simply wonderful for volunteering his time for the May Flowers’s cause. He’s a gentleman and a peer, and there are a great many other things he could be doing at Christmastime instead of decorating a public hall in Clerkenwell for the sake of orphans.”
“Yes, well, I’m certain that Bianca turned the thumb-screws on that entire lot, forcing them to help with preparations when they would much rather have been lazing about their club, smoking cigars and gambling.”
Bea laughed out loud at the image. “Harrison doesn’t care for smoking,” she said, her laugh turning into a sigh as she watched him and John anchor their tree in a stand and secure it. “He does care for charitable causes. Why, just the other day, at Lady Hartnell’s Christmas concert, he was telling me how passionate he is about supporting the downtrodden and funding those men and women who work on their behalf.”
Diana hummed suspiciously, her gaze set on John. “I would wager he said that in order to impress you. Most likely so that you would slip into the next room with him and let him take liberties.” A spark of longing lit her eyes as she spoke, still studying John.
“Harrison would never be so inconsiderate,” Bea said with a knowing grin. That grin faded quickly, though. Harrison hadn’t once taken liberties with her. The most passionate thing he’d done in the years that they’d known and flirted with each other was to remove her glove so that he could kiss her bare hand. And while that had taken her breath away, she would be lying to herself if she said she hadn’t wanted more.
“Why hasn’t he proposed yet?” she whispered passionately.
Her accidental outburst happened just as Bianca crossed behind her and Diana. Bianca stopped and rocked back to stand between Bea and Diana, staring across the room at Harrison and John as they finished with the tree, then rushed to help a man who had just brought several boxes of donations through the door.
“Are you still waiting for Harrison to propose?” Bianca asked, the side of her mouth twitching into a grin.
Bea pulled her gaze away from Harrison to stare guiltily at Bianca. “I’m afraid that at this point, it’s not going to happen.”
“Nonsense,” Bianca snorted. “That man has been besotted with you for at least two years.”
“Perhaps.” Bea lowered her eyes, wanting to believe it but not letting herself hope.
Bianca stared at her like she had spit on her mother’s grave. “You can’t possibly tell me that you think the man would do anything but propose,” she said.
“It hasn’t happened yet, so I despair of it happening at all,” Bea said.
Bianca shook her head. “And here I thought you were intelligent.”
“Bea is intelligent,” Diana said, back to glaring across the room as Harrison and John took the new boxes of donations to a table that was already overloaded with various crates, sacks, and parcels of clothing, toys, and necessities. “It’s men who lack basic intelligence.”
Again, Bianca laughed. “You’re not wrong,” she said, then laid a hand on Bea’s shoulder. “He’ll propose, ducky. I know it. A man doesn’t look at a woman the way Harrison looks at you without marriage on his mind. And besides, it’s nearly Christmas. What better time to ask a woman to spend the whole rest of her life with him than at Christmas?”
“If you say so,” Bea said with a wistful sigh.
She tried to return to tying bows, but her heart, her thoughts, and her eyes flew back to Harrison at the other end of the room. She would have given anything to know if he planned to marry her or if she’d been imagining his regard for her. She only wished she would work up the nerve to let him know that, if he asked for her hand, her answer would be a resounding yes.
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About the Author
I hope you have enjoyed Scandal Meets Its Match. If you’d like to be the first to learn about when new books in the series come out and more, please sign up for my newsletter here: http://eepurl.com/cbaVMH And remember, Read it, Review it, Share it! For a complete list of works by Merry Farmer with links, please visit http://wp.me/P5ttjb-14F.
Merry Farmer is an award-winning novelist who lives in suburban Philadelphia with her cats, Torpedo, her grumpy old man, and Justine, her hyperactive new baby. She has been writing since she was ten years old and realized one day that she didn't have to wait for the teacher to assign a creative writing project to write something. It was the best day of her life. She then went on to earn not one but two degrees in History so that she would always have something to write about. Her books have reached the Top 100 at Amazon, iBooks, and Barnes & Noble, and have been named finalists in the prestigious RONE and Rom Com Reader’s Crown awards.
Acknowledgments
I owe a huge debt of gratitude to my awesome beta-readers, Caroline Lee and Jolene Stewart, for their suggestions and advice. And double thanks to Julie Tague, for being a truly excellent editor and assistant!
Click here for a complete list of other works by Merry Farmer.
candal Meets Its Match (The May Flowers Book 7)