Scandal's Promise

by Gibson, Pamela

  I’ll wear one of my own. If she complains, I’ll remain at home.

  Did she have the courage to rebel against her mother? Probably not, but Aunt Lily would intercede and then scold her for being a ninny.

  A strange carriage was parked in front of the townhouse when she arrived. Perhaps Mama had invited someone to tea. She alighted and hastened into the house. Leaving her outerwear with the butler, she ambled into the drawing room where she found her mother at the tea table entertaining the dowager Countess of Culbertson and her daughter-in-law, Lady Lydia.

  Mama was not in a good mood. “I see you deigned to join us. You remember Gwen’s mother and sister-in-law.”

  “I do,” she said, seating herself next to the dowager. “So nice to see you. Did you know I recently visited Gwen in Yorkshire?”

  “I had a letter from her yesterday, and she spoke of your visit.”

  Emily took a cup of tea from Mama and a macaron. She nodded to Lydia, hoping she didn’t have to make conversation with her. The woman had made her friend Gwen’s life a misery at every opportunity.

  They spoke of the ball, of Gwen’s brother Reggie, now Lord Culbertson, and the latest on dits. Although out of mourning, the dowager still wore black out of respect for her late husband. Emily remembered her friend’s father as stately and kind. Gwen had talked about him constantly during their visit.

  She watched Lydia’s lips move, trying hard not to pay attention. Gwen had once called her a viper, a woman with a sharp tongue and no conscience, who’d strike out without warning. Hearing her name, Emily started, and brought her thoughts back to the conversation.

  Lydia’s sly smile raised goosebumps on the back of Emily’s neck. “I understand Cardmore is in town. You no longer have discourse with him I presume.”

  How like Lydia to bring up a tactless subject in Mother’s home. “He is a neighbor in the Cotswolds, and he called on my aunt one day to seek advice about a staffing issue. But no, I do not see him.” There was no way she would admit to speaking to him in Hyde Park. If someone asked her, she wouldn’t lie.

  Mama raised her eyebrows in astonishment but quickly hid any discomfort the comment may have caused. “More tea?” She directed her question to Lydia, who declined, setting back in her chair as if preparing another barb.

  “Is he planning to remarry?” she asked. “He is eligible, even with the tawdry circumstances surrounding his first marriage.”

  The dowager grimaced. “Can we discuss another topic. All that business was far in the past.”

  “Not when he’s back in town and is sure to be invited everywhere. Lady Emily might encounter him at an entertainment. I was merely warning her.”

  The dowager put down her cup, giving Lydia a stare. “I’m beginning to tire. I believe we’ll be on our way. Will we see you at dear Lady Morefield’s ball?”

  “You will,” Mama replied. “Langston cannot come with me. I have persuaded Emily to come in his place.”

  “How delightful.” Lydia rose and gathered her things. “I will enjoy furthering our conversation then.”

  Not if I see you first.

  They left the room, and Emily groaned. “Lydia is not someone I care to know better. I swear her tongue is forever flapping.”

  Mama seemed thoughtful. “Have another macaron and tell me about your visit with Miranda. I had hoped you would become friends. Her mother and I were quite close.”

  Emily settled into her comfortable chair and recounted her visit. She left out the part about meeting Cardmore at the Serpentine. Would he be at tonight’s ball? She had given no thought about who she might see there. If he came, would he dance with her? Oh, how tongues would wag. She bit her lip, and Mama looked up.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Yes. I was simply wondering how I was to avoid Lydia Pettigrew without being rude. The woman was nothing but unkind to dear Gwen.”

  “She does seem tactless.” She gazed into her tea as if trying to see a pattern in the residue. “Did you know Cardmore would be in town?”

  “I did not. As I said, he called on Aunt Lily for household advice. The Hall needs a full staff, and he’s been gone a long time.”

  “I’m surprised she received him. Your aunt has no sense of propriety.”

  Emily hid a smile. Mama and Aunt Lily were always at odds. Mama put up with her because she was Papa’s younger sister.

  “If we are to attend a social gathering, I believe I shall go to my room and rest. I need to have my wits about me if I must endure Lydia’s presence.” She put down her cup and took herself off to her room where she found Alice laying out a gown for tonight.

  “Your mama chose this. I know you wanted to wear the red velvet gown you made yourself.”

  Assert yourself. Wear what you want to wear. She swallowed. “Yes. Put this one away. The ruby gown would be much warmer.”

  There. I did it.

  And she was amazed at how it brightened her. Aunt Lily was right. Abject obedience, necessary for a debutante, was not necessary for a woman of five and twenty. If she was going to spend an evening sitting with the matrons, then she would be comfortable, knowing she looked her best. Who knew? There might be an agreeable widower with a passel of children needing a mother. It might be her only chance for a respectable marriage, and after playing with James, she was reminded how much she adored children.

  Would it be enough if their father was someone she could not love?

  A smug smile and laughing eyes filled her vision. She was such a fool to even think about the man who’d broken her heart.

  He has a child in need of a mother.

  Some people never learn, and she must be cautious or else she would become one of them.

  Chapter 18

  Their carriage waited twenty minutes in a queue before arriving at the Morefield home for the ball. When she and Mama were finally handed down, Emily rejoiced. At last she’d be warm, even if it meant sitting among the potted palms with matrons and wallflowers.

  After being announced, they entered a gilded ballroom festooned with hothouse flowers and wall-to-wall guests. Emily headed for chairs near the terrace door where she could observe the gowns and jewels and briefly escape to the outside if it grew too stuffy.

  Mama, already in conversation with friends, waved her on, and Emily breathed a sigh of relief when she found a chair where she would be half-hidden by a piece of statuary. No one else sat nearby except an elderly lady with whom she was not acquainted. They nodded but did not speak.

  Cardmore was here. She’d spied him in a group of gentlemen fawning over some debutante, her youthful face and white gown giving her away. After a few minutes, he moved toward the cardroom where gentlemen who did not want to dance whiled away the time. She couldn’t recall him being an aficionado of gambling, but then he’d changed. Only bits of his old self shined through at odd times when he was caught off guard, like the day she saw him tossing stones in the lake. He did it to calm himself. Like fiddling with his signet ring, it was a quirk he’d not outgrown.

  “There you are.” Mama bustled over and sat in the vacant chair next to her. “Are you prepared to dance? Our hostess said her son has promised to dance with all the single ladies present.”

  “I hope he has an additional pair of dancing shoes available, Mama. There are quite a few ladies in that category, and surely he will wear a hole in his footwear if he dances with all of them.”

  Mama frowned. “You do not have to be sarcastic. I don’t want you to sit here all evening with the matrons. You are a lovely young—well not quite so young—lady with a fine lineage. You are the granddaughter of a duke. You are still a catch, my dear, if only you would exert yourself.” She paused and grimaced as she straightened one of Emily’s sleeves. “What possessed you to wear this gown? Did you not see what all the fashionabl
e girls are wearing? It’s not like we cannot afford to attire you properly.”

  Meekness threatened to steal over her, making her the obedient daughter she’d reverted to after the cancelled betrothal. She sat straighter and folded her hands in her lap, deciding not to respond. Mama knew very well deep red, the color of holly berries, suited her. Mama must truly be piqued if she longed for her daughter to emulate the debutantes.

  “I promise to dance if someone asks, Mama. Please enjoy your visit with your friends. I see Gwen’s mother. I shall go and chat with her. You don’t have to worry about me sitting among strangers.”

  “Very well.” She rose and straightened her skirt. “By the by, Lady Lydia was correct. Cardmore is here.”

  “I know. I saw him.”

  “Well, then. You are forewarned.” She strode away, waving at a friend. Emily rose and moved next to the dowager, preparing for a long conversation about her visit with Gwen in Yorkshire.

  A man stopped in front of her chair and bowed. “Lady Emily, may I have the pleasure of this dance?”

  The man was the honoree’s brother. She’d been introduced to him earlier. She didn’t care to dance, but it would be rude to decline. “I would be delighted.”

  She rose and gave him her gloved hand as he led her to the center of the room where couples lined up for a country dance. Thank the Lord. If she forgot a step, at least she wouldn’t trod on a toe. Dancing did not require conversation, so she concentrated on the steps. The music livened her mood, even though she was well aware she was a duty dance.

  When it ended, he led her back to her chair. It was occupied by Lady Lydia. She swallowed her irritation and took the one on the other side of the dowager.

  Lydia whipped out a fan and peered over the top. “Are you enjoying yourself, Lady Emily? I daresay the dance was quite rigorous.”

  “Those of us who live in the country know exercise is good for the soul.”

  “I prefer something slower, like a waltz. Have you learned the steps? Or do your country entertainments confine themselves to more traditional dances?”

  The dowager spoke up. “I find the waltz scandalous. The couples are too close for propriety.”

  “The world is changing,” Emily said. “What is considered scandalous today will be commonplace tomorrow.”

  “But not all scandals can be forgotten, can they, Lady Emily? Especially those involving behavior.” Lydia smiled archly. “Speaking of scandals . . .”

  Emily sensed who stood in front of her before she looked up. “Lady Emily, are you engaged for this dance?” Cardmore bowed.

  The dowager huffed, and Lydia snapped her fan shut. “How nice to see you out in society again, Lord Cardmore. I heard you’d been injured, and I didn’t know if you would appear. You are well then?”

  “My injury was not life-threatening as you can see. Thank you for asking.” He turned back to Emily and extended his hand.

  Mama was nowhere in sight, and Emily decided it would cause more attention to refuse than to dance, especially with Lydia sitting next to her. No one was looking at them, but she was sure Lydia’s tongue would be flapping the moment she stood.

  It was long past time for the old scandal to be buried. Why would it not die?

  “Thank you.”

  He led her out to the dance floor and set his hand on her waist. She nearly choked. “Is this a waltz, Cardmore? I barely know the steps.”

  “You were always good at feeling the music and following my lead in a ballroom. Do the same now. I will not try any of the more difficult moves.”

  She placed her hands in the proper positions and let the strains of the Viennese waltz move her in the right direction. To be honest, she and Aunt Lily had amused themselves by practicing the steps of the new dance at home, rolling with laughter each time they whirled in the wrong direction. Here, in Andrew’s secure arms, she let herself drift with the cadence, his hand on her waist directing her movements.

  “Will you be at Lady Mills’s musicale tomorrow evening? I know you like to play the pianoforte, and I hear the musician is excellent.”

  “Aunt Lily and I are returning home the day after tomorrow and will need a good night’s sleep the night before. I shall not be there. I’m sorry to miss it.”

  “Be careful. I understand the roads are still treacherous.”

  After a few minutes, he swept her near the open terrace door, barely cracked because of the cold. A few couples had bravely escaped the stuffy ballroom. He led her outside into the darkness and took up the dance position again, the sounds clear through the windows.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Do you not like dancing in the dark on a cold night?”

  Drawing her closer, he danced her into the far corner, out of the light from the windows. Stopping, he lowered his head and whispered in her ear. “Emily, I need to kiss you.”

  Her breath caught as he gave her time to push him away. When she didn’t, he pulled her into his arms and pressed her against his warm body. She closed her eyes, wanting to feel every inch of him against her, to somehow ease the longing tightening her breasts and pulsing between her thighs.

  Drew, how could you have left me for her.

  His mouth closed over hers, sending tingles of pleasure to her core. When he deepened the kiss, she sighed and let delicious heat swamp her senses. His tongue slipped in as he lowered his hands and pressed her bottom against a hard ridge. She touched him, tasted him, her body begging for more. He broke the kiss and nuzzled her neck. “God, you feel so good. And you taste even better. But this is not the place or the time, is it?”

  “No.”

  A laugh she knew all too well trilled from somewhere nearby. Had Lydia followed them out? Mortified, she stepped back and took his arm. “I believe it is too chilly to be dancing out of doors, my lord.”

  “Indeed. It is also too public.”

  They strolled back toward the ballroom and entered together, aware tongues would wag once again as those who remembered the scandal shared it with others who didn’t know their story.

  She’d taken a dangerous step into the past, but it was not an irrevocable one. She would only briefly have to put up with those who would scorn her as a pathetic spinster, tied to one man, a man who had betrayed her with another woman. Papa was on the mend. Aunt Lily was satisfied he would recover. Their departure was already planned.

  Out of sight, out of mind.

  They reached her chair, and Andrew bowed over her hand. “Would you like me to procure a glass of champagne?”

  “No, thank you, Cardmore. I am quite refreshed.”

  He grinned. “Determined to get rid of me, are you?”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. Surely the man realized their brief disappearance through the terrace doors would be an on dit.

  He bowed and took himself off, seemingly oblivious to the stares of a few matrons who looked first at him and then at her. The dowager was not in sight, but Mama made a beeline for her.

  “There you are. Was that Cardmore I saw you with?”

  “It was. We danced the waltz and stepped out on the terrace.”

  Mama sat down, her distress as evident as Emily’s should be. “I daresay, you could not refuse him, could you?”

  “No, Mother, I could not.”

  “Then we should leave. But not right away. I’ll sit and chat with you for a while, and then we shall depart. Perhaps no one noticed Cardmore with all your other partners.”

  “They noticed. I had only one other. Your friend’s son.”

  “Oh, my dear, I am sorry. At least you have acted with perfect propriety, sitting here the rest of the time with the dowager countess. She told me she appreciated your recounting your trip to see Gwen and her precious Cecily. But why did you and Cardmore go out to the terrace? The wea
ther is quite cold.”

  If she was honest and ready to hear a scold, she’d tell her mother the truth. Honesty was not on her mind at the moment. Avoiding the promise of yet another scandal was. “We went out for a breath of fresh air. A quick one. It is cold, but this room is stifling.” She waved her hand in front of her face for emphasis.

  “You do look overheated.” She gazed directly at Emily, who stared back. If Mama thought anything else had happened, she was not ready to hear it, because she looked away and fiddled with her skirt. After an insipid discussion of the weather, the music, and the offerings in the refreshment room with the woman seated on her other side, Mama declared herself weary and ready to depart.

  Emily stiffened her spine and lifted her chin as she walked by a few people whose conversation stopped as she passed. She recognized one of the women as having been a friend of Caroline’s. Cardmore was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps he had left, too.

  She and Mama gathered their outerwear and waited indoors until their carriage came. A few raindrops had begun to fall.

  “What an eventful evening,” Mama said as they settled with a blanket.

  Indeed. And now she had more to think about.

  Chapter 19

  Andrew left the same day as Emily. Ralston remained behind to take care of some personal business he’d neglected. Steady rain, falling for two days, had made the roads difficult to negotiate. To make matters worse, George was unwell. His sneezing had turned into sniffles, and Mrs. Townsend said he was warm to the touch.

  Instead of having her and the boy follow in the luggage coach, Andrew rode outside and directed the nursemaid to sit with the child in his carriage. Cold bit his nose and cheeks as they plodded toward Cardmore Hall. Because of the boy’s illness, Andrew stopped at a coaching inn for the night. When they took up their journey the next day, he tied his horse to the carriage and joined them inside.