Scandal at Dawn (A Regency Rhapsody Novella) (2 page)

“You are here with your family?” he asked curiously.

“Yes. Oh, I should have told Mama and Emily where I am! They’ll worry if they don’t see me.”

“We’ll go in shortly,” he promised, somehow sorry that was the case. Olivia’s skin glowed in the luminescence of the garden, half moonlit and half candlelit. Adrian decided the scene suited the lady, who seemed more at home amid the natural world than among the stiff matrons of Society.

“Thank you,” Olivia said. “I was rude earlier, on the dance floor. It was very chivalrous of you to rescue me.”

“Chivalrous? Me?” He laughed at the idea. “Well, anyway, I’m glad to have been useful.”

“It was lucky you noticed what happened,” she said.

“I was watching you,” he said bluntly. He was a little surprised at his own admission, but maybe his honesty was inspired by Olivia’s inability to see his expression. She could not have possibly known he was watching.

“Why?” she asked, mystified.

Adrian noticed a bench set under a carefully pruned bower, nicely secluded without being completely out of sight. He led Olivia to it and encouraged her to sit. She relinquished her hold on his arm, now that she had no reason to be escorted. But he sat down beside her in such a way that if he moved one inch closer, their thighs would touch.

“I told you,” he answered. “A beautiful lady will catch anyone’s eye. And after I saw Crombie take you to the floor—well, let’s say that gave me an extra reason to watch. I know something about his sense of humor,” he finished bleakly.
Far too much, really,
he added to himself. There was a time when he would have found such a prank amusing, even bet on the outcome himself.

“And you stepped in when you saw him leave me?”

“Precisely. His behavior was inexcusable. Would you like me to call him out?” Adrian asked almost casually.

“A duel?” Olivia laughed in spite of herself. “I thought only men who are personally insulted are supposed to issue challenges.”

“I am personally insulted, knowing he nearly got away with treating you in such a manner. Besides, the defense of a lady is always grounds for a dawn appointment. Are you quite sure you wouldn’t like me to challenge him?”

She caught the teasing, hopeful tone in his voice and smiled. “It’s a satisfying thought, I admit, but I would feel terrible if you were harmed.”

“If anyone would be harmed, it would be Crombie.”

“You’re very confident. Are you a good shot?”

“Excellent.”

“But what if he chose swords?”

“He wouldn’t. I’m the best swordsman I know,” he said without a trace of egoism. “It’d be over by breakfast, and I could take you for a ride in the park afterwards.”

Olivia blushed at the thought of this mysterious man defending her honor and then whisking her away. “It’s not worth such bother.”

“As you wish, my lady,” Adrian conceded. “I shall skip the duel, and just call to take you to the park tomorrow.”

She turned her face toward him. “I almost believe you.”

“Believe me entirely.”

“I might, if I knew you.”

Olivia felt the mood suddenly change, but she was still shocked when he caught her face in his hands, then bent to brush her lips with his own. Olivia had been kissed before, rather often in fact. Men liked to take advantage of her blindness, and frequently tried to see how far they could press her. She always corrected such misapprehensions with cold finality.

But this kiss was different. Her body reacted instantaneously to his touch, the blood rushing through her limbs and her pulse quickening. As if he knew how sensitive she was to touch, he kept the kiss light—but not innocent. His mouth almost hovered over her own, sometimes pulling back so only his breath touched her lips. It was intoxicating, and she felt her body beg her to succumb to it.

“I don’t even know you,” she whispered, a feeble protest when her whole being ached to be closer to him. She knew she should stop his presumptuous behavior immediately, but found herself unable to muster any retort. His scent, both spicy and warm, rolled over her when she inhaled. It was so different from anything else she could remember, masculine and mysterious.

“I’m easy to get to know,” he murmured back. “And I have decided I very much want to get to know you, Olivia. You have the most perfect mouth, to begin with.” Then, he began to rein in the kiss, slowly letting her come back to herself, letting their bodies disentangle. Though they were both still sitting with perfect propriety—well, nearly perfect—on the bench, he’d felt just how much they had reacted to each other, how easily they had meshed. He found her hand in the darkness. “Let me take you back to your family. I wouldn’t want them to worry.” He rose and offered his arm, once again the solicitous protector.

Olivia stood shakily, gripping Adrian’s arm rather more tightly than before. Absently, she ran her free hand over her hair and dress, hoping to smooth what must be a rumpled appearance.

“You look perfect,” he said quietly as he led them back to the house. “Perfect in every respect.”

“Oh,” was all she could manage.

Adrian asked her to describe her mother, and Olivia’s verbal sketch was so clear he could pick the woman out from across the room. He guided the young lady swiftly through the crush, picking the clearest path to her family, although not the straightest. He told himself he was just trying to make it easier for Olivia, but he also knew he did not particularly want to let her go. And that was a sensation he was not used to.

* * * *

To say Adrian was not the person Olivia’s family was expecting to see would be an understatement. Her mother’s jaw dropped open when she saw him, and the young lady standing nearby hid her face behind a fan, though her wide open eyes revealed her surprise.

“Mrs Blake?” He inquired when they reached the older woman. “I do not believe we have met. I am Adrian Calwell, Baron Norbury, at your service.”

“Where is Mr Crombie?” Mrs Blake blurted, too flustered to cover her confusion.

“Ah, yes. Crombie.” Adrian smiled benignly. He squeezed Olivia’s hand, still resting on his arm, imperceptibly. “Changed partners on the dance floor, I’m afraid. Utterly improper of me, of course. I beg your forgiveness.”

“There is nothing to forgive…my Lord,” Olivia said before her mother could form a response. She marveled that she could think clearly enough to reply. Why had he not told her he was a baron?

“In that case,” Adrian said, carefully aiming his comment to Mrs Blake, “I will return your daughter to you, knowing my lack of manners has not completely hardened her opinion against me.” He drew Olivia’s hand to the other young lady’s, so she would continue to have a guide.

“Are you Miss Blake’s sister?” he asked, knowing Mrs Blake was far too flustered to deal with the dilemma of whether or not to introduce him to the lady. The blonde woman lifted her face to acknowledge him, and he saw the barely contained laughter in her eyes.

“I am her cousin and companion, in fact,” she said, enjoying the situation. Her expression was almost impish. “Emily St George.”

“A very appropriate name for a protector, Miss St George.” He smiled at her as she extended her hand. He took it, pressed it briefly, and then placed it in Olivia’s.

Olivia didn’t need eyes to know that Emily blushed at his unusual compliment. That distraction kept her friend from noticing Olivia’s own blush when Adrian ran a finger along the inside of her arm under the pretense of handing her over to Emily. Even through the long glove she wore, she couldn’t pretend his touch was anything other than thrilling, all the more so for its boldness.

“How kind of you to escort her back.” Mrs Blake had found her voice at last. “Girls, I think it’s time we returned home. Good evening, Sir.”

“Good evening,” he replied easily, watching with amusement as the woman herded her chicks away from his dangerous presence. He didn’t have to guess if Mrs Blake had heard of him. From her expression of pure horror when she heard his name, it was obvious his past was well known to her. He was surprised she hadn’t fainted on realizing a rakehell like him had gotten within ten paces of her daughter.

He turned back toward the crowd, scanning the room for any trace of Crombie. He caught a black look from the other man, who was standing with his friends in a corner. Adrian dismissed the boor from his mind, thinking of more pleasant things. His reputation would make seeing Olivia again a difficult proposition. He smiled to himself, thinking he would enjoy the challenge.

* * * *

Mrs. Blake lost no time in calling for the family’s carriage to be brought round. Alarmed by the family’s brush with scandal, she decided a full retreat was necessary. Emily, used to her aunt’s nerves, escorted Olivia along without a fuss. Olivia herself went quietly, still stunned by the events of the evening…in particular, the kiss.

In the carriage, Olivia endured her mother’s hysterical questions about the Baron Norbury and his behavior over the few minutes he’d been with her. Olivia related the story of Crombie’s disappearance and Norbury’s rescue with little embellishment, though she left out the kiss in the garden. That decision turned out to be a wise one, considering her poor mother almost succumbed to the vapors as it was.

At home, the girls were sent to their bedroom immediately. But they had no intention of sleeping, and Emily insisted on hearing every detail over again as they changed into night shifts and loosed their hair for brushing. Olivia, in turn, begged her cousin for details on her rescuer’s appearance.

“Oh, Livvie, he’s so handsome! I wish I could tell you. He’s just over six feet, and not a shred of him fat.”

Olivia had sensed that part already. “Yes, I know he’s tall. But what color is his hair? Eyes?”

“His hair is dark brown, with a little red in it. And his eyes are just the finest green, like Aunt Mildred’s emeralds. Do you remember them?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Norbury is an outrageous rake, Livvie,” Emily confided. “He’s
ruined
more women than we have years together. Your mother never would have let you dance with him if he’d asked first. What am I saying? He’d never even be introduced to you!”

Emily paused, remembering the scene.

“All the ladies were staring at you, you know,” she said. “As if they expected the baron to ravish you right there on the parquet floor!”

Olivia blushed at the thought. “He was a perfect gentleman.” Well, that wasn’t true. There was his stolen kiss, and the way he subtly caressed her when they said goodbye. “He merely wanted to thwart Mr Crombie.”

“What did Mr Crombie do, exactly? I know you didn’t tell Auntie everything.”

Olivia related the prank in full, and heard Emily gasp with indignation.

“What a dreadful man! And he seemed so pleasant.”

“Well, first impressions do not always hold true,” Olivia said. She thought again of Baron Norbury. Her first impression of him was that he was something of a knight for stepping in to help a girl he didn’t even know. But apparently he, too, was not what he seemed to be. She sighed. At least she understood his kiss now—a rake wouldn’t think twice about playing with a woman’s affections. In fact, he probably hadn’t even realized he was doing it. But Olivia couldn’t forget his touch. It was just as well, she thought, she would never meet him again. He was a walking scandal; she was a proper young woman.

But in the darkness, sleep eluded her, and her thoughts were not proper at all.

* * * *

Olivia awoke the next morning with a smile on her lips, and the lingering memory of the kiss she’d received last night. It had been worth it, she decided, even if it meant she had to endure Crombie’s attempt to humiliate her.

The two girls sat down for a light lunch rather later than usual. They were alone, since Olivia’s mother had gone to one of her charity meetings. Olivia wondered if she would share her horror story of the previous evening with the other matrons. If Lord Norbury was that bad, she might hold her tongue—unless she wanted to risk another attack of nerves. On the other hand, it was the most exciting thing to happen to the Blake and St George families in years.

As she and Emily were each enjoying a cup of coffee, the maid came in with a card on the tray. She glanced at Olivia, but brought the tray over to Emily. “A caller for Miss Blake.”

Emily nodded as she took the card. Her eyes widened when she read the name. “Lord Norbury! Oh, Livvie!” Without a parent figure to guide her, Emily felt adrift. “I suppose we have to let him in?” she asked Olivia tentatively.

“Oh, why shouldn’t we?” Olivia said a bit impatiently, her tone masking the excitement fluttering up inside her. “What could possibly happen?”

“Let us move into the parlor, Alice,” Emily said. “Then show him in.”

“Yes, miss.” The maid nodded and hurried out.

Adrian was fairly confident of gaining entry to the house, primarily because he had made sure—via a small bribe to the stableboy—Mrs Blake was out. He had dressed with his usual care, wearing a dark blue coat over a simple, white shirt. His breeches were as plain as possible. He disdained faddish colors and embellishments. He knew he didn’t need them.

“My Lord,” Emily said as he entered the parlor. “This is a surprise.”

“Miss Blake,” Adrian asked Olivia. “Did you not tell your companion I had plans to call on you?”

“You must forgive me, my Lord, for not believing everything you say.” Olivia strove to keep her voice cool, but couldn’t help smiling.

“You would not be the first, Miss Blake.”

“So we have heard,” Emily said, so softly he almost missed it.

He shot a look at the blonde girl, who returned it without a flinch.

“If I may,” he said, returning his attention to Olivia. “Hold out your hands?”

She did, and he placed a small box in them. “What is this?” she asked.

“Just a token I thought you might enjoy. I’ll leave it to you to decide whether your sharp-tongued protector can share in it.” He sat down on one of the chairs opposite Olivia.

Olivia opened the box, and the decadent smell of candied orange peel floated into the room. “Oh, that’s divine,” she said. She loved good food; she had practically lived in the kitchens as a child. “I appreciate the thought, but why did you think it necessary?”