Scandal of the Season (6 page)

“I cannot put my finger on it. Lately, I am just not excited to see him. I find myself relieved if he sends a note telling me he cannot call. Shouldn’t I feel happy to see the man I love?”

Anthony blew out a breath. How was he to give love advice when he had never been in love? “Genna, I wish I could tell you what you need to hear.”

“But you have never been in love, have you?”

He shrugged. Infatuation with an orange seller scarcely counted as love. “Have you talked to your friends?”

“I tried, but they all thought I was being silly. All they can say is what a catch Lindal is, and how proud I should feel that he picked me.”

He wanted to tell her how wrong her friends were. She was the catch, not Lindal. “You are not being silly. Perhaps you should take the next week to really examine your feelings for him before it’s too late.” And if she delayed the wedding, then he would have more time to retrieve the necklace should Miss Seaton not return it.

“Perhaps you are right. It’s just his family is so maddening sometimes. His mother pulled me aside at the Houghton’s dinner party to tell me the dress I wore was inappropriate.” Genna breathed in as if to calm herself then sipped her tea.

“What was so wrong with your dress?”

“It was a shade too dark for an unmarried woman,” she said in an angry tone. “It was not, Tony. Aunt Westfield would never allow me to wear something unacceptable.”

Anthony smothered a smile. “I am sure if you and Aunt Westfield picked it out, the dress was perfect.” The poor girl looked terribly distressed, and Anthony didn’t believe it all had to do with a gown. “What other things are they driving you mad about?”

She glanced away. “You. His mother has made a few comments under her breath about Lindal marrying
Somerton’s
sister. I think she wonders if it will look bad on them.”

He fisted his hands wanting to throw something across the room. What he did should have no impact on Genna. Although, he knew it always would. More and more, the respectable wife idea was seeping into his brain.

“Do you love him, Genna? And I mean truly deep down in your heart?”

Genna stared at her jonquil gown.

“Can you imagine your life without him?” he whispered.

She nodded slightly. “I can. And sometimes I think it might be better.”

Anthony closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the sofa. His father would be furious and probably blame her backing out of the wedding on him. According to his father, everything was his fault. Why should this be any different?

“Genna, if you honestly believe that then you need to put a stop to this wedding before the plans go any further.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I just don’t know how to tell him.”

Anthony didn’t need to ask to which “him” she referred. Lindal would take her rejection with a stiff upper lip. Her father, however, would not.

“If you would like to tell him before Thursday, I will stand with you. But I leave for a country party on Thursday and won’t return until the following week.”

“Thank you, Tony. I shall let you know what I decide. I believe I may take the weekend to think about my feelings for Lindal. Aunt Westfield and I are also attending a party with Lindal’s family.”

“Enjoy yourself, then.”

“And you, brother.”

Anthony knew he would not be able to enjoy himself this week. Along with getting this job done, he would also be fighting a damning attraction to a petite blonde.

Victoria stared at the blue velvet material and sighed. She had never felt any fabric this fine. Somerton insisted that the dressmaker create a gown out of the velvet. While she would have the week to wear it, after she returned home, she would have to either give back the dress to him, or perhaps sell it. Of all the material chosen so far, this was her favorite. Maybe he would not mind if she kept just this one dress.

“It will look beautiful on you,” he whispered near her ear.

She started.

“Are you all right?”

“I did not realize you were so close,” she replied.

“As I told you before, you must become used to it.”

She would never grow accustomed to having him so near. His presence overwhelmed her senses and created unruly sensations in the pit of her stomach. Somehow, she had to keep their relationship on a professional level. Nothing personal.

She almost laughed aloud at the thought. With Somerton, it was all too personal.

“Come and see the other fabrics I have chosen for you,” he said, taking her elbow. “You will need two more silk gowns for the evenings and a riding habit if the weather is fair enough for riding.”

“Somerton,” she said, coming to a stop. “This is all too much. Surely, I don’t need all these gowns for a simple house party.”

He squeezed her elbow in warning and drew her nearer to him. “You need all this and more. Do not argue with me about it.”

The dark sound of his voice made her realize that arguing would be futile. “Very well.”

He brought her over to a table where the shopkeeper draped two silk fabrics. Victoria could not take her eyes off the deep red material. She wanted to reach out and stroke the fabric to see if it was as luxurious as she imagined. The dressmaker insisted on green trimming to make the gown look more festive since the theme of the ball was Christmas.

“This is too much,” she whispered.

“It is perfect and will look beautiful on you.” He picked up the cloth and draped it over her shoulder. His lips turned upward.

“Somerton,” she hissed as the shopkeeper turned away. “I cannot wear something as decadent as this. What will people think?”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

She knew what they would think. That she was his mistress and as such could wear a sensual gown. Before that fateful night, she’d tried so hard not to fall into the trap that most in her situation had already done. But it hadn’t been easy. She had known the money those women made for letting a man have sex with them. Had she agreed, she might have even found a position as a mistress of a wealthy man. Nevertheless, she hadn’t wanted that for herself. Yet now, she found herself in the same position, even if it was pretence.

As always, she wondered what her mother would think of her. Victoria barely remembered the woman who died when she was only seven. After Father died when Victoria was three, her mother went to the tavern and served ale. If Victoria was truthful with herself, her mother most likely served more than ale to the customers.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“Nothing important.”

She wandered the store again while Somerton gave the instructions to the woman. She wondered what it would be like if this wasn’t pretend. If she had the money to shop at a place like this. She had to stop dreaming. Only the daughters and wives of lords shopped here.

She walked back toward a bolt of plaid wool and stared at it. Lost in thought of what it would be like to be a real lady again, Somerton suddenly dragged her away and into the back of the store behind a curtain. Before she could sputter a word, he backed himself against the wall with her in front of him. His hand covered her mouth. Her heart pounded against her chest.

“Shh, or we will have something to explain,” he whispered sharply in her ear.

Victoria heard the bell on the shopkeeper’s door and then some ladies chattering as they entered. The ladies’ voices came closer as they examined bolts of fabric. Oh, dear God, he had saved her after all. Jennette and Avis had entered the shop. If they had discovered her with Somerton…she shuddered to think about the consequences.

Instead, her mind wandered to the hard chest she found herself pressed against, the calloused hand covering her mouth and the scent of sandalwood permeating the air around them.

“Do you understand?” he whispered so quietly she barely heard him.

She nodded.

He slowly removed his hand and slipped it around her waist. She prayed Avis and Jennette would finish quickly. Being this close to him caused her heart to beat erratically and warmth to spread throughout her body. How could he expect her to sleep next to him all week?

They stood there a few minutes more before she finally heard her friends leaving the store. She exhaled a long held breath and moved away from him.

“We need to leave before someone else walks in,” she said.

“I agree, but we are not done shopping yet.” He walked away to speak with the shopkeeper again.

Victoria clenched her fists. Never had she met such an exasperating man. She could not walk into another shop with him!

“All right, everything is set. The gowns will be finished by Wednesday afternoon. That should give you time to pack them.” He paused for a moment. “You do have a trunk, don’t you?”

“Yes, I have a trunk,” she retorted. There was no need to tell him it would be a borrowed trunk.

“Good, now you need new undergarments, bonnets, gloves—”

She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at him. “You will not assist me in buying undergarments. Besides no one will see them so what I have is serviceable enough.”

“Oh?” He cocked a brow at her. “Is that not what a man does for a mistress?”

“No.”

“I believe it is. And do not forget that I shall see you in your undergarments and will not be pleased to find you wearing ‘serviceable’ things.”

“Bastard,” she hissed as she walked out the door. He grabbed her arm and swung her toward him. His hazel eyes had turned green with anger.

“I am the man who can rip your world apart. Don’t ever forget that.”

She yanked her arm out of his grip. “I am quite certain you will never let me forget it.”

“I won’t,” he whispered.

Anthony opened the door to Lady Whitely’s brothel and walked upstairs after a few nods to the ladies. Several of them looked disappointed that he was heading toward his mother’s private rooms. After a quick knock, he entered the empty room. His mother would hear about his entrance from one of the ladies and follow him quickly.

He wandered the suite of rooms, admiring her style of decorating. While she had most of the house decorated in gaudy reds and burgundies, this room had pale blue wall coverings with white and gold accents. It hardly looked like the bedroom of a brothel owner.

Ten years ago, he had run from this place as if the devil had been chasing him. Now, he found it, and her, far less unpleasant than visiting his childhood home. He only called there to see his sister. His father could rot in hell for all he cared.

“Anthony.”

He turned his head at the soothing sound of his mother’s voice. “Good afternoon, Mother.”

“This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I happened to be near and thought I would call on you.” He sat in the gold velvet chair.

“What is really wrong, Anthony?”

He should have known she would immediately realize he was worrying about something.

He told her about Genna’s visit and lack of enthusiasm toward her upcoming nuptials. “I’m not certain she even loves the man,” he added.

His mother’s brows drew downward into a pained frown. “I wish I could give her some advice.”

“You gave up that right almost twenty years ago,” he said harshly. Sometimes when he least expected it, the anger at her surfaced. While he understood it wasn’t all her fault, it never stopped the resentment from returning.

“I understand that, Anthony. However, it doesn’t mean I can’t yearn for something I will never have.”

She stared down at her silk skirts. At forty-five, she was still a beautiful woman. A few gray strands sprinkled her blond hair and several lines around her eyes were now apparent. But she radiated beauty.

“So why else did you call on me today, Anthony?”

“I will be leaving on Thursday for a house party. So I won’t be able to call for a fortnight.”

She nodded. “Farleigh’s party, no doubt.”

“How did you know…? Never mind, I’m sure I do not want to know how you learned about the party.” Whom his mother slept with was none of his business. He had decided that years ago.

“I hear everything in here,” she said with a small laugh.

Anthony looked around the room and then stood to glance out the window. His gaze slid to Victoria’s home. Was she there now?

“What is really bothering you, my dear?” she asked softly. “Have you thought about what I said?”

“Yes.”

“Excellent. I have been thinking that Lord Farber’s oldest might be another option for you. She’s been out for three Seasons and has not taken an interest in anyone.”

“Mother, I will think about Miss Farber and Miss Coddington when I return from the party.”

She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “You are doing another job for Ainsworth.”

“Yes, but I have decided this is my last. But that is not what is bothering me.”

“Then what is it?”

“What do you know of Miss Seaton?” He needed to find out all he could before he depended on her for such an important assignment.

“Miss Seaton?”

“Your neighbor, next door,” he replied.

“Yes, I know of her,” she answered stiffly. “Of course, we don’t socialize. I believe she is the daughter of a vicar. She takes in orphans. She appears pleasant enough.”

Anthony turned and stared at his mother for a long moment. There was an odd tone to her voice as if she wasn’t telling him everything. But what more could she know about Victoria? That was the impression Victoria gave to the world. The quiet mouse who brought orphans into her house to save them from a life of crime. He wondered if anyone, save him, knew she was really a thief.

“My mind wonders what
you
know of her…and why.” His mother rose and crossed her arms over her chest. “Miss Seaton is not a woman for the likes of you.”

Anthony blinked. “The likes of me?
Your
son.”

“Exactly. A man who uses women for his pleasure—”

“And their pleasure, too.”

She continued as if she hadn’t heard him, “A man who has just decided that respectability is important. A man who has no real desire for marriage. A man who doesn’t seem to even respect women.”

“Now, I really must protest that last statement. I fully respect women,” he said solemnly.

“No, you do not. They are nothing but playthings to you. And I will not stand for you treating Miss Seaton poorly.” She sounded like a protective mother lioness. “Besides, Miss Seaton will not correct your position in Society. You need the daughter of a peer.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Mother. I have no intention of treating Miss Seaton with anything but respect.” And with their history, he could never do more than give her a kiss. Touching her in any other manner was out of the question. She must hate him for what he’d done to her.

“You had best not, Anthony. That young woman is a sweet, innocent lady.”

Anthony smothered a laugh. He wondered how his mother would feel about the sweet, innocent lady if she knew Victoria had stolen her daughter’s necklace.

“Victoria,
she’s
here,” Maggie said from the threshold of Victoria’s small office.

“Are the children all upstairs?” Victoria asked as she placed her quill in its holder.

“Yes.”

“Very well, then.” Victoria straightened her hair. “Send her in.”

She took a sip of her tepid tea and swallowed down her trepidation. Listening to the soft footfalls, her nerves tightened and her stomach clenched.

“Good afternoon, Victoria.”

“Good afternoon, Lady Whitely. Shall we sit at the sofa?” God, she hated the way her voice quivered whenever she talked to the woman.

“Yes.” Lady Whitely moved gracefully toward the worn sofa. After sitting, she patted the cushion next to her. “Join me.”

Victoria stood and slowly walked to the sofa. This woman could take everything away from her if she desired it. But not for long. Once she made it through next week, she would have enough money that Lady Whitely could do nothing to her. Somerton’s money would give her the safety and security she’d been searching for all her life.

“Sit,” she ordered.

Victoria promptly sat on the sofa. She folded her trembling hands together on her lap.

“How do you know Lord Somerton?” Lady Whitely asked directly.

Victoria frowned. Ten years ago, she had admitted to Lady Whitely that she had given her innocence to a man. But she had never told Lady Whitely the man’s name so why was she questioning her about him? Could she have seen them shopping?

“I met him a few days ago at Lady Selby’s party. It was the first time I had met him, though he is friends with Lord Selby.”

“Damn him.” Lady Whitely stared at Victoria. “You need to stay away from him.”

“Why?” she asked in an innocent tone.

“The man is a hardened rake. He will use you more so than any other man.” Lady Whitely looked away. “And do not think for a moment that he will ask for your hand in marriage. He wants nothing to do with that. He has no respect for women.”

“Of course,” Victoria murmured demurely. Just the interactions she had with him the past two days had shown her how much he’d changed in ten years.

Lady Whitely’s face was pinched and pained as if Somerton had hurt her in some manner. Perhaps Lady Whitely had an infatuation with him. It wasn’t that odd, she might be older but Somerton had his charms. Victoria knew that far too well.

“Victoria, I am not certain you recognize the significance of what I am saying. You must not under any circumstances encourage even a friendship with Lord Somerton.”

“As you wish.” And it wasn’t a lie. Victoria had no intention of encouraging a friendship or any other relationship with the man. All she had to do was tolerate him for a week. She could feign indifference around him, and hopefully he would believe she had no interest in him. Once their week passed, she would only see him at a few functions.