Scandal at Dawn (A Regency Rhapsody Novella)

When a cruel prank leaves the blind Olivia Blake ripe for humiliation on a ballroom dance floor, she is rescued...by an infamous rake. Soon she is seduced by the charm of Adrian Calwell, the scandal-chased Baron of Norbury, who is much more than he seems.

Adrian's only goal in rescuing Olivia was to thwart another man's heartless trick. But Olivia proves to be well worth it, and Adrian is impressed by the unusual young lady. Unfortunately, his reputation as a scoundrel sets the Blake family against him.

He is forbidden to court her, but when rumors threaten Olivia's own reputation, Adrian takes matters into his own hands. It will take all of Adrian's ingenuity and all of Olivia's daring to find the truth and prevent a scandal at dawn.

Adrian’s only goal in rescuing Olivia was to thwart his rival’s heartless trick. But Olivia is well worth rescuing, and Adrian is eager to put his life as a rake behind him. Can Adrian rise above his sordid past to win Olivia's love?

Copyright © 2013

Cover design by James T. Egan,
www.bookflydesign.com
.

Edited by Amanda Valentine,
ayvalentine.com
.

“I would say he’s a
peacock,” the blonde woman whispered. “Except that he looks more like a rooster.”

Her dark-haired friend burst into silvery laughter, wishing with all her heart she could see the person her cousin described. In fact, she wished she could see anything at all. But Olivia Blake was blind, and thus denied many of the simple pleasures her cousin Emily took for granted…such as being able to survey the ridiculousness of a
ton
ball in London during the height of the season.

“What is he wearing?” she asked eagerly.

“A bright yellow jacket—mustard yellow. And his waistcoat is trussed up so tight I don’t think he can breathe, let alone talk. Which may be a blessing for his companions.”

Olivia covered her mouth with her hand. Her inner vision was filled with the descriptions of the people at the ball which her companion colored in with such detail. She was not born blind. A fever took her sight when she was seven years old, the same fever that took her father’s life. Since that tragedy, Olivia lived in the home of Dillon St George, her mother’s elder brother. Fortunately, he had a daughter close to Olivia’s age. Emily, both cousin and companion, was her invaluable compatriot in the world—and her eyes.

“Are all the men like that tonight?” Olivia wondered.

“No, though many are. I wonder if they know how foolish they appear. Doubtless some of the ladies are impressed.”

“I take it you are not impressed by any of these fine gentlemen?” she teased her cousin.

“Indeed not!” Emily said. “I prefer a man who doesn’t need to hide behind a fancy jacket. And he must be intelligent. Nor would it hurt if he were built like an Adonis.”

“Shh,” Olivia warned. “Mama will hear you and have an attack of vapors.”

“Aunt Gertrude thinks we’re both children still,” Emily said with disdain. “But we’re not, are we? Else why would we be standing at a ball, dressed up like dolls, and hoping to catch a husband before we reach old maid status?”

“You will find a match,” Olivia said, “if you don’t frighten your potential husband away with your sharp tongue. But I’m selfish, since I secretly hope you do scare them all away. What will I do once you’re a wife?”

“Oh, don’t go on like that, Livvie. You sound like a crabby spinster beyond the reach of men.”

“That’s exactly what I am,” she returned.

“Nonsense.” Emily squeezed Olivia’s hand emphatically. “I have told you again and again. You’re charming and accomplished, and pretty into the bargain. You know there’s a man who will understand you are a treasure, just as I know it and our family knows it.”

Olivia stood still, wishing she believed her cousin. “I’m nineteen, flawed, and without suitors.”

“So am I.”

“But you have refused offers.”

“I didn’t care for Mr Shankly,” Emily said, speaking of the latest to brave her wit.

“But at least he cared for you!”

“
Pfft
. He just wanted a clever wife to manage his house.”

“Which is more than I could do. How can I be a suitable wife if I cannot be a good housekeeper?” Olivia had some ladylike accomplishments, mostly having to do with music. But she lacked the ability to handle many household tasks on her own, due to her blindness, and she knew it was a major obstacle for a marriage.

“Marry wealth.” Emily’s wry tone jolted Olivia out of her gloom. “Then you’d have all the servants you need to carry out your instructions.”

Olivia sniffed at the idea. “Now that’s the most absurd thing you’ve said all night.”

Emily squeezed her arm. “Ha! I’m about to top it, because someone else just walked in.” She proceeded to paint a portrait of a dandy so hilarious Olivia nearly doubled over with giggles.

“Oh, Heavens,” Emily finished, having dissolved into laughter herself. “I should stop. There’s a whole group of gentlemen watching us now.”

“More dandies?”

“Who else? Oh,” Emily said suddenly. “Bother! One of them is coming toward us!”

“Which one? Not the mustard?”

“No, a different man entirely. He’s dressed in a black velvet coat. He’s handsome,” Emily added, almost as an afterthought.

The heralded man in black velvet did not turn away. Accompanied by the host of the party, he had almost reached Emily and Olivia before her mother noticed the likely meeting and managed to join the girls.

“Mrs Blake,” their host began. “I wish to introduce to you a man I have known for many years.”

“Certainly, sir. Any friend of yours…” Olivia’s mother said easily.

“Well, he was quite charmed by the picture of three such lovely women, and begged me to arrange an introduction.”

“It’s quite true. Good evening, ladies,” the man said. Olivia heard a sort of laugh in his tenor voice, and wondered if he’d also been mocking the dandies. “Jonathan Crombie, at your service.” He bowed first to Olivia’s mother, but instantly turned his attention to Olivia herself as the girls were named. “I could not help noticing your angelic appearance, and your affliction.”
He was certainly flowery
, she thought. “Would it be presumptuous to ask, Miss Blake, if you dance?”

“I do dance, Mr Crombie,” Olivia returned, before her mother could interject. Not that she was likely to forbid her daughter the chance to find a suitor.

The musicians had just struck up a waltz, and Emily chimed in excitedly, “Oh, a waltz! This is perfect. We just learned the steps at home, Aunt!”

Mrs. Blake smiled, knowing both girls had been thrilled to learn the new dance. “Very well.”

“Thank you, Mama!” Olivia said.

“Wonderful,” Crombie added. “Then if you would do me the honor?” Olivia felt him take her arm, rather suddenly.
Maybe this is a bad idea
, she thought. But she was weary of standing along the side, and so welcomed the opportunity to join the other revelers.

Across the room, another man watched as Crombie led the young lady to the dance floor. He saw the way the woman walked, and understood she was blind. His own eyes narrowed, speculating on her dance partner’s intentions. True, the lady was a picture, with a figure Venus would be proud of, set off by the simple lines of the latest Continental-inspired fashion. Dark curls tumbled down around a heart-shaped face. The man could almost feel the weight of those curls in his hands, their silky texture between his fingers. The couple began to dance, and the watcher saw the lady shiver, even from this distance. As if sensing a storm, the watcher began to move toward the dance floor, not taking his eyes from the couple. Though he knew nothing of the woman, he knew about the man she danced with. That was more than enough.

Ignorant of their audience, Crombie took Olivia to the floor, though he again missed a few warnings that might have saved her toes from running into people. But once on the floor, Olivia found her natural footing. Rather surprisingly, she was an accomplished dancer, learned from hours of partnering Emily in the family parlor. Crombie noticed, and complimented her, his voice holding a hint of laughter.

“You are graceful, my dear. A surprise from a blind girl.”

“Thank you, sir,” Olivia returned, feeling a sudden shiver of apprehension.

“I’ll wager you wouldn’t need a guide at all, not the way you move.” Again, she caught something unpleasant in his voice.

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said. “Dancing is not a thing one can do alone.”

“Isn’t it? Let’s find out.” With those words, he released his hold on her and stepped away with a mocking laugh, leaving her alone.

Olivia felt the departure of Crombie like a sudden rush of cold water, despite the warmth of the ballroom. She fought off a wave of instinctual panic. Without a partner, she was lost in the din of the dancing, the shoes of dozens of partners clicking on the parquet floor, the music swirling around her ears. Crombie had tricked her; she should have trusted her instincts about him. But what mattered now was getting to safety.

She gasped when a man bumped into her side. “Excuse me,” he muttered, managing to accuse her of clumsiness with his intonation. Olivia had no idea which way she ought to walk, or who to call to; in a very real sense, she was lost. Time stretched on…possibly seconds, though it felt like minutes. The whoosh of air round her warned her that other couples were narrowly avoiding a collision. She gulped air as though she were drowning, and began to feel the prickling sensation that she was being watched. A blind girl standing alone in the middle of a dance! Who wouldn’t be watching and laughing? Steeling herself, she took a step forward.

Without warning, she was swept up into the dance again, her hand grasped by a man’s strong grip, the heat of a body now protectively close. Stunned, she allowed her free hand to float up and rest on the stranger’s shoulder. He was taller than Crombie, and the lines of his body were more obvious. More muscular.

“You’re not Mr Crombie,” she gasped, even as the man whirled her expertly around the floor.

“I’m glad you noticed,” the stranger said, his baritone equal parts humor and anger.

“Are you one of his friends? Is this some kind of game?” she asked sharply, her anger at his betrayal still fresh.

“It may have been a game to Crombie, but it is not to me.” He squeezed her right hand lightly, as if to reassure her. “I’m Adrian Calwell. I regret I don’t know your name.”

“Olivia Blake,” she replied shortly, still not sure she could trust this man, though his name was vaguely familiar. “Would you mind telling me what is going on?”

Calwell did not speak for a moment, but continued to move, keeping them in time with the music. “It appears Crombie and his cronies are viewing us with some disappointment. I wouldn’t put it beyond them to have placed bets on how many times you tripped on the floor, or something equally distasteful.” His tone was one of pure contempt.

“He didn’t seem that bad,” Olivia noted. “Until he left me, that is.”

“I wouldn’t trust Crombie to treat a dog well, let alone a lady.” Calwell tightened his grip on her slightly. “I hope you don’t mind I kept you dancing. It seemed preferable to simply leading you off in the middle.”

“Are people looking at me?” she asked apprehensively.

“Only as much as anyone will look at a beautiful woman.” The words rolled easily off his tongue, and the way he spoke them so close to her ear made her flush, even as she tried to dismiss the obvious flattery.

“Why are they looking at
me
, then?” she countered.

The music ended before he could reply. They both applauded with the rest of the dancers, but Calwell’s touch soon returned.

“Would you like to step outside, Miss Blake? It’s cooler there, with less scrutiny.”

She turned her sightless gaze toward him. “Yes, please.”

* * * *

Without asking whether he had a right to, Adrian led her out the garden doors, kept open so the breeze could cool the guests. He stepped outside, and offered his arm by slipping it toward her own. She took it not with one hand, but both. The gesture would normally have implied a greater intimacy, but it was clear, for Olivia, it was simply the safest way to walk in an unfamiliar place. Nevertheless, Adrian found he liked it.

“Are there stairs?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. Six wide stairs down to the path, in about five paces.” He watched her carefully as they began to walk, noticing how gracefully she moved, despite her unfamiliarity with this house.

Olivia nodded, and he guided her down the steps to a gravel pathway, keeping her to the center as they walked. The gardens were cool in contrast to the house, the soft breeze a pleasure after the overly perfumed air of the ballroom. Newly leafed tree branches partially obscured the night sky, where a half moon illuminated the grounds.