My Lady Scandal (8 page)

He had been quietly confident for some time that there was no one woman on offer in Society that could ever come close to holding his interest for long. He had mistresses - many men did – but while that took care of his baser needs, finding somebody who did not bore him after prolonged acquaintance… that was an entirely different matter.

Many thought that Viscount Carlisle was far too particular, but he had a horror of finding himself trapped with a woman who had no interest in the world around her; no opinions, no sense of humor. To wake up every morning for the rest of his life and face the stultifying knowledge that he was bound to some creature he had no interest in…

The very concept made him shudder.

Marriage was a duty that must be performed, he was aware of that. Every year, he attended the balls and cast his eye over the Seasons offerings, but no matter how pretty the girl, it was difficult for them to think beyond what had been taught in the schoolroom. Not that he was after a bluestocking, oh, no; but he did want a wife who could keep up with him. Until he had met Nell Marriott, he had not believed that such a creature existed.

This really begged the question; what were his intentions towards the lady?

With a finesse born of long practice, Grif mentally sidestepped the question and focused instead on the continuing antics of the Marriott siblings. He had not thought that they would pursue their new career so soon, but he should have realized that they would forge ahead as quickly as possible. Both were bold – one could almost say fearless – and he allowed a certain admiration for their enterprise.

Even if he was not sure what he must do about it; not yet, anyway.

Leaving Brooks, he made his way to Hyde Park, wanting the opportunity to think without interruption. It was difficult to do that, surrounded as he was by friends and acquaintances. Actually, it was extraordinary how hard it was to be alone in London.

Usually, he would not dream of walking through the park; the fashion was to tool through in a curricle, displaying ones latest pair of matched horses. It had become a regular daily entertainment when the weather was clement, followed by dandies and the occasional brazen lady who enjoyed parading about, often with a small dog seated next to them. But on a grey, overcast October day, he could reasonably expect not to encounter many people.

Turning up the collar of his topcoat, he strode forward; lost in thought, head down against the wind that nipped maliciously at his cheeks. He was determined to clear his head and think rationally about… things. But before he could do so, he heard a voice - female, familiar and slightly amused - hailing him from nearby. With a sense of incredulity, he stopped abruptly and looked about.

Nell Marriott was walking towards him. Smiling at him.

For a moment, it seemed that the world had stopped; it seemed that everything stopped. As Nell walked towards him, the park, the sharp wind, even the piles of horse manure that the keepers had not disposed of yet, all disappeared. Instead, he saw a tall, slender woman dressed in a royal blue walking gown, a matching velvet jacket buttoned over it to keep out the cold, fair hair tucked beneath a jaunty hat on which two small red feathers – like a robin’s – were fetchingly attached to one side.

She was the last word in fashionable, an exotic creature that had appeared out of nowhere on a grey October day.

For the first time in all of his twenty
-
seven years, Grif felt his heart turn over in his chest and was momentarily speechless.

Nell came up to him, head tilted a little in enquiry, looking at him from eyes that were grave, but that he had quickly learnt could turn mischievous all too easily.

‘Well, now,’ she said easily, ‘I did not think I would meet
you
here, Sir.’

With an effort, Grif shook off the thunderbolt that had hit him, trying very hard to remember how it was he usually acted around Miss. Marriott. He was almost sure it went something along the lines of cool, teasing amusement, which might be a lot to ask, just at the moment.

‘Why should I not be here?’ he demanded, struggling to regain his equilibrium.

‘Walking in the park? Well… it just did not seem to be your thing.’

‘Leaving my
thing
aside, where is your chaperone, your maid or… or some appropriately mature matron?’ Because she appeared to be quite alone, something that bordered on the scandalous in London Society. No matter how popular Nell was, that popularity could plummet all too easily if she did not take care.

She wrinkled her nose. ‘I did have one in the form of your cousin, Viola and her maid, but I left them not ten minutes ago. And you must know that I do not possess one of my own. I am not going far and it seemed such a pleasant day for a walk.’

Grif blinked and looked around him.
This
was a pleasant day? ‘And where are you going?’

‘My dear Miss. Marriott, I think I know you well enough by now to tell you that this will never do. You are unaccompanied. Worse than that, you are unaccompanied in
my
company.’

‘I am afraid that is true.’ Slipping her arm through his, they began strolling towards Wellington Arch, just visible ahead. ‘You seem out of sorts today, Lord Carlisle.’

She, however, he decided grimly, seemed in very good spirits. He could imagine why; they must have received the funds from their little outing on Friday night. Grif wondered how they managed to dispose of the goods. Surely, neither of the Marriotts fenced the things themselves?

Turning her adroitly, they wandered down one of the smaller paths that led between rows of ornamental trees. To their right lay rotten row and they could hear the occasional rider pass by. But all things considered, they were very much alone.

‘I have been thinking,’ he began, after a time. One of the best things he had discovered about Nell was that she did not ever feel impelled to talk. Her reflective silences were very restful. ‘You seem to be far more focused on getting your brother comfortably established than you are with your own situation. I noticed that you were actively encouraging the Abercrombie girl at Lady Kingston’s rout the other day.’

‘Selina Abercrombie is delightful, do you not think? Such pretty eyes!’

‘And twenty thousand a year?’ he suggested dryly.

Nell shrugged. ‘I would not wish that Perry chose a bride based on the size of her income, but it would be excellent if whoever he lights on happens to be in funds,’ she allowed candidly, then gave him an upward glance. ‘Do you think that very bad of me?’

He shook his head. ‘I think it very sensible of you. Were the two of you so very badly left of, my dear?’

She was silent for a moment, then, ‘My parents were kind people, loving people. But they had not a scrap of sense between them. My father was a gambler and my mother did not care and happily followed him everywhere. And there were a great many everywheres! Perry and I… we survived. But it was not the best of times.’

He stopped. Turning to face her, he collected up both her hands and held them tightly. He hated the fact that she had had such an unsatisfactory upbringing. What kind of clothe headed nincompoops sold their childrens’ childhood so rashly? It seemed to him that Nell and Perry had spent their time on the Continent traipsing back and forth, but never settling anywhere. It was far too soon to ask Nell about the kind of life she had led, he knew that. But one day, he would cajole it out of her and then, somehow, he intended to make it better.

One day? Really, Carlisle?

‘And do
you
intend to form an eligible alliance?’

That mouth, so soft and full it would be a pillow to his own. He longed to taste it, to slip his tongue between those lips and tease it into life. So pink, so perfect… the temptation to kiss her was overwhelming and he felt himself moving to do just that, dropping his head to touch his lips, lightly, to her own.

It was the brush of a feather, there one moment, gone the next and it was every bit as delicious as he had known it would be. Kissing Nell was like kissing a velvet rose petal, soft and sweet. The urge to
really
kiss her rose up within, to forget everything and kiss her senseless and for a moment the impulse thrummed through him as an over wound violin string. Only for a moment; Grif knew that Hyde Park only
looked
deserted. At any moment somebody might hove into view and chances were that that someone would be the biggest gossip in London.

And then they would be sunk.

Dropping her hands, he pulled one through his arm once again and turned them back towards the road and sanity. Nell walked with him, but – he was pleased to note – she looked a little shaken. It was reassuring to know that he was not the only one who had been left feeling addled. Who would have thought such a little thing as a kiss could have such an impact?

Almacks glittered in the light of several hundred candles. While waiting to be presented to the patronesses who were presiding over the evening – in this instance, Lady Jersey and Princess Ezterhazy – Nell looked around her, taking in the most prestigious club in all of London. It was, she supposed, quite impressive. The rooms were certainly spacious, with several large areas cleared away for dancing.

‘The supper is not very good, I am afraid,’ Viola confided, looking around, ‘but it does not matter. Almacks is not about the supper.’

And she was quite right. One could not depend on anything but the approval of the ladies who dispensed the vouchers to enter the August Halls. And as they had been known to turn down entry on the basis of bad dress sense and poor dancing skills, even to those of the most elevated status, their favorable regard was sought by all.

Miss. Durham had confided that she had no difficulty obtaining the precious vouchers for the evening; apparently, Lady Sefton and Lady Jersey – both patronesses – had spied the Marriotts and had approved. Besides, Lady Jersey did love a sensation and the Marriotts had stirred up much talk with their arrival on the London scene.

Try as she would, Nell felt as if there were two parts of her operating that evening; the girl who stood with Viola and the
other
girl, the one who was still back in Hyde Park, being kissed by Viscount Carlisle.

Such a light kiss, really; almost
not
a kiss. Just the slightest brush of his lips against her own and yet she had felt as if the entire world had tilted sideways.

Nell was no stranger to herself
or
her feelings. She knew that she was attracted to his lordship. Indeed, half the women in London were, or perhaps more than half, for he was a very handsome man, with a wickedly sharp sense of humor and a great deal of money. That was all well and good. What she had not anticipated was the easiness she felt when talking with him.

After that initial party at his house, she had seen him frequently and, in a very short space of time, they had fallen into a comfortable way of talking that felt entirely natural. It had lulled her, distracting her from the fact that, beneath it all, there was the inescapable fact that he was a man that exerted a powerful attraction for her.

The afternoon had rather changed the rules and Nell had dressed for Almacks automatically, her mind returning repeatedly to that brief embrace.

They had not spoken for a few minutes after emerging from the park. Then Carlisle had moved smoothly back into gentleman-about-town mode, commenting on this and that, general chitchat that was designed to entertain her. She had responded – she hoped – in kind, although she really could not recall much of what was said.

It was all most alarming. She had not set out to find herself a husband and Carlisle was certainly
not
husband material. The man was famous for his gun-shy attitude to the institution. Not that marriage would come into it; at least… she did not think it would.

The problem with attempting to lead a respectable life was that she had no actual experience at it. She and Carlisle got along together famously, but what did that signify? She had assumed that he had decided to promote them into Society, because that was the kind of thing he did; stirring the waters and stepping back to enjoy the ripple effect he had created.

But that kiss…

With an effort, she focused on the room around her, wondering if Carlisle would appear tonight. And if he would stand up with her. Chances were that he would; he had been dancing with her on a regular basis. But thanks to that wretched kiss, tonight felt different.