Scandalized by a Scoundrel (8 page)

“I’m embarrassed, not angry at you. Regardless, it doesn’t matter. You’ll be leaving shortly anyway.” For some reason, that thought caused a sharp pang of regret. No matter how it had ended the other day, he was the most exciting thing that had happened in her life in a very long time, and he would soon be gone.

He watched her for a moment, his dark gaze seeming to go right through her to her innermost thoughts. “Care to take a walk with me?” He held out his arm, tempting her to take it.

After a brief hesitation, she nodded and slipped her fingers onto his elbow. The faint scent of leather and spice teased her senses, reminding her of being wrapped so fully in his arms, enveloped by his warmth.

They stepped down the stone steps into the garden and set off on the outermost path, away from where the other guests had congregated.

“My father’s family is quite beside themselves, you know.”

She furrowed her brow and glanced over to him. This was not the direction she had anticipated their conversation would go. “I beg your pardon?”

“My uncle and his progeny,” he clarified, his eyes trained on the white pebble path in front of them. “They condoned my father’s second marriage because they so desperately needed the money. And because my father had already produced two sons of proper lineage. They didn’t like it, but viewed it as a necessary evil.”

She had no idea what to say to such a thing, so she simply let him continue. Admittedly, she was curious to know more about him.

“They never had anything to do with my mother and me, neither before nor after his death. We were inferior in every way as far as they were concerned. Most especially my mother, despite the fact she had saved them all.”

Gravel crunched beneath their feet as they walked, the strains of the quartet growing fainter with each step. Why was he telling her this? It did seem rather personal. Still, her heart ached for the repressed pain she heard behind his matter-of-fact tone. “That’s terrible. No one should be made to feel that way, especially not by one’s family.”

He nodded, looking out over the lake. “And now the upstart they never wanted to acknowledge is the head of the family. Ironic, no?” Shaking his head, he said, “If they could, they’d happily see me dead so my uncle could reclaim the title for the untainted line of the family.”

She hadn’t realized how bad things were for him. “If you hate the title so much, and the family wants it so badly, why don’t you abdicate and be free of it?”

A muscle in his cheek hardened as he clenched his jaw. “My mother gave up everything to abide by her father’s wishes and marry a nobleman. It was her money that saved the estate from ruin, yet the very moment my father died, she was tossed aside like some common beggar. Thanks to the marriage contract, she did receive her widow’s portion, but the majority of the money stayed with the estate.”

Amelia pursed her lips, considering what he’d said. “So you want what is rightfully yours.” It wasn’t unreasonable, given how terrible his family sounded.

He stopped, turning to face her fully. The determination tightening his features was so intense she almost took a step back. “I don’t give a damn about the money or the estate. But over my dead body—literally—will I allow the family to have it. In fact, it’s my intention to return to America next month to find a bride. If a half-American viscount sends them into hysterics, I can’t wait to see what a three-quarters American will do to them.”

The bitterness of his words was shocking, even as it was understandable. “I…see.” Sort of. It was hard to fathom that kind of situation.

He raked a hand through his hair and blew out a long breath. “What I am trying to say is that I have a plan, and I shouldn’t have allowed myself to get carried away. It wasn’t fair to either one of us. All I was trying to do was help you, and I ended up hurting you instead.”

Now she saw why he was sharing this. “Really, it is all right. I never…” She trailed off, blinking as she realized what he had just said. “Wait,
help me
? What do you mean by that? The lessons were all in good fun.”

His eyes shuttered, and he nodded. “Yes, of course.”

Suspicion wended its way through her wary heart. “Gabriel, why would you need to help me? Did someone tell you that I needed help?”

“No,” he said quickly. After a beat of silence, he added, “But after learning why you carry your pistol, I thought perhaps it would help your peace of mind to have other self-preservation techniques to fall back on.”

Dash it all. Someone had gossiped. All this time, she had thought him free of the pity that seemed to follow her like the plague. She believed he was interested in her, spending time with her because he wanted to, not because he pitied her or thought her in need of his charity.

Fresh mortification welled up inside her. Had he kissed her out of pity, too? She had begged him, hadn’t she? She had as good as asked to be kissed, he had complied and then worried that it might somehow interfere with his plans. She took a step back, putting distance between them.

“Ah, yes. Everyone is always so kind when they hear of my family’s misfortune. The poor baroness, who had resisted the loss of her mother’s necklace and had, ultimately, lost it and her life with the flick of a dagger. The poor baron, who was never the same after his wife’s death, always terrified his only daughter would be taken from him, as well. And the poor girl, who not only grew up motherless but half raised herself thanks to the baron’s weakened mind.

“The same girl who taught herself to shoot better than any sharpshooter the army ever produced, just so her father would see she would be safe. The same girl who was cosseted anyway, kept carefully tucked away from the dangers the outside world offered. The same girl who has been pitied by everyone who knew the story, and thought, just once, there was a person out there with whom she might have a clean slate. Someone who would treat her like a normal person, and maybe, just maybe, liked spending time with her.”

Tears pricked the back of her eyes, but she forcefully blinked them away. Gabriel looked stricken, completely taken aback by her unexpected rant. And it
was
unexpected. She could hardly believe she had spoken so plainly. Drawing herself up to her full height, she said, “Well, thank you very much for your charity. Consider my mind at peace. If I can return the favor someday, do be sure to let me know.”

Sucking in a fortifying lungful of the rose-scented air, she turned on her heel and stalked back to the house. This time he didn’t call after her or try to stop her.

Chapter Seven

The scratch at her door came hours later, when it was almost five o’clock. The butler opened the door and bowed. “Pardon me, Miss Watson, but you have a visitor: a Miss Abbington. Are you at home?”

Amelia’s brows came together. Definitely not who she would have expected—not that she was expecting anyone. Gabriel was probably halfway back to Kettering by now. Laying her book down on the sofa cushion beside her, she nodded. “Yes, of course. Please see her in at once.”

A few moments later, Preston escorted a young, pretty blond woman with wide brown eyes and an irrepressible smile into the room. “Miss Elizabeth Abbington.”

As the butler withdrew, Amelia stood and came forward to greet the girl. “Ah, Eleanor’s sister. I’m so sorry we didn’t have the opportunity to meet today. I must ask, is everything all right?”

“Oh yes. Please don’t fret. You left your wrap behind, and I thought it the perfect opportunity to meet you. I hope you don’t mind,” she said, presenting the wrap in question.

“No, of course not.” Amelia accepted the cream-colored shawl and gestured to the sitting area situated before the fireplace. “Please, let us sit down and have a chat.” She paused to ring for tea before settling back into her spot on the sofa.

“A chat sounds wonderful. Aunt Margaret has taken to her room to rest following the day’s festivities, and my cousin Will has gone off to the pub with Lord Winters.”

Gabriel was still here then. Amelia grabbed onto this little tidbit, tucking it away like a useless treasure. “How did you find the celebrations today? It was so wonderful to see the newlyweds so happy.”

Miss Abbington nodded, her cheeks dimpling. “Oh yes. Wasn’t it though? I’m so glad Aunt Margaret could sneak me away from Hollingsworth for the joyful occasion. My uncle will probably disown me if he discovers I came, but I’m not altogether convinced that would be a bad thing.”

Amelia wasn’t about to comment on that particular topic, though Eleanor had shared a bit about her manipulative uncle. “Will you be in town for long?”

“Only for a week, then I have to get back. But with Eleanor and Nick off to Brighton tomorrow, I hope you don’t mind if I make a pest of myself coming to visit. Elle has spoken quite well of you, and I do so love making new friends.”

“I would be honored to have you here.” And she meant it. Eleanor’s sister may be young, but Amelia could already tell she was easy to talk to.

“Are we friends then?” At Amelia’s nod, the girl grinned. “Excellent. Then I insist you call me Libby, and I hope you don’t mind if I call you Amelia as my sister does.”

It was impossible not to like the girl. She somehow managed to be wonderfully sweet and terribly forward all at once. “By all means, please do.”

She leaned forward in her chair, rubbing her hands together. “I’m so glad, because now that we are friends, I can get to the real reason why I came here.”

Her
real
reason? Amelia almost didn’t want to ask. “And what reason is that?”

“You must forgive me, for I am a terrible busybody.” She held her hands up as if staving off judgment. “Rest assured, however, because I only wish to
know
things—never to gossip about them. You can ask Eleanor. I will take my treasure trove of knowledge to my grave.”

What on earth was one to say to something like that? Luckily, the tea arrived then, giving Amelia a moment to gather her thoughts as she poured them each a cup. Keeping her eyes trained on the steaming spout as she poured the hot water, she said, “I’m not at all certain I can add to that treasure trove of knowledge.”

Accepting her teacup, Libby smiled with confidence. “Let us find out, shall we? I’ll start with an admission of my own: During the ceremony, I spent very little time watching Nick and Eleanor. I was much more interested in watching the tall, dark, and handsome Lord Winters.”

Amelia was suddenly very glad her own teacup was still on the tray. Glancing up warily, she waited for Libby to continue. The girl was watching her right back, her eyes wide with interest as though gauging her reaction. Finally, Amelia said, “Well, you are free to observe whomever you choose.”

“Indeed. And that observation was made all the more easy since the good viscount’s attention was wholly focused elsewhere.”

Taking a careful sip of tea, she did her best not to reveal that she already knew that. The weight of his gaze had nearly been a physical force. “Yes, I suppose that does make it easier.”

Libby nodded amicably and tipped her cup to her lips. Swallowing, she said, “It was what I observed that had me anxious to speak to you. Tell me, Amelia, are you aware that he is in love with you?”

Amelia glanced up sharply, nearly dropping her cup. “He is most certainly
not
in love with me. We barely know each other.” Still, her silly heart pounded fiercely in her chest at the suggestion.

“Well, he quite fooled me. The way he looked at you…” She sighed, shaking her head. “Let us just say that someday I very much hope to be on the receiving end of a look like that.”

Unexpected heat tinged Amelia’s cheeks. Why on earth would Gabriel be looking at her like that? He clearly wanted little to do with her. Any interest he had in her was motivated by his feeling sorry for her. Wasn’t it? Her stomach fluttered as she recalled his heavy-lidded gaze just before he had kissed her. His lips had been seeking, eager against hers. Yes, she’d asked him to kiss her, but hadn’t he pulled her flush against him? Had not his arms encircled her waist as though he never wanted to let go?

“I would pay any sum to know what you are thinking about right now.”

Dash it, these thoughts would get her nowhere. Amelia tried not to look guilty as she met Libby’s very interested gaze. “I was merely wondering what had caused such an odd look from the viscount. I suppose I could remind him of someone.”

“Mmm,” Libby murmured, nodding in agreement. “Of course, you two did look rather cozy when you walked off together during the breakfast.” She raised her brows, clearly expecting some sort of response. When none came, she shrugged good-naturedly. “Very well, I won’t pry. Just know that if you do decide you wish to talk with someone, I’ll be here. Or rather, I’ll be at Aunt Margaret’s.

“Now then,” she said, setting down her cup and leaning over the armrest of her chair. “What is it you do to fill your days out here in the country?”

Half an hour later, Amelia waved goodbye to her new friend. It had been a very pleasant visit, but it had been impossible to stop thinking about what Libby had said about Gabriel. Had he really watched her in the way Libby described? Amelia knew that it certainly wasn’t love, but it very well may have been a reflection of genuine interest.

She thought about her earlier reaction to his disclosure that he knew of her family’s past. He really had seemed stricken. Had she wrongly accused him? Yes, her situation may have motivated him to offer the lessons, but was that such a terrible thing? In all the time they had spent together, she never had sensed any pity in his interactions with her.

Worrying her bottom lip, she paced the length of the drawing room. It was obvious there could never be anything between them. Not with his plans, and certainly not with her father. But she had come to care for him, and he’d given her that incredible first kiss. It pained her to think of him leaving at all, but most especially with them permanently parting on such poor terms. He had been kind to her—teasing and irreverent and even charming, in his own way—and she had thought the very worst of him.

She had no way of knowing when he was leaving. He could be gone at first light, for all she knew. What she did know was where he was right then: the village pub. She glanced outside. The sun was just touching the tops of the trees, still nearly an hour away from setting.

Nibbling her thumbnail, she considered her options. She could wait until tomorrow and visit the neighboring estate, risking missing him if he left early. She could let it go and never make amends for the way they had parted. That one she immediately discarded. The very thought of never hearing from him again was enough to make her chest hurt. Well, then, she could write him a letter, apologize for her overreaction, and wish him well in his life.

Or…

Or she could seize the opportunity for a little adventure. The village was only two miles away. What if she went there now and intercepted him when he left the pub? She knew what his horse looked like, so it wouldn’t be difficult. Yes, darkness would fall before she could return, but it wasn’t as though they were in London.

Her father would be overwrought if he knew what she was considering, but after the activity that morning, he had retired to his bedchamber an hour ago. She’d never defied his wishes before, but what he didn’t know surely couldn’t hurt him. She didn’t waste another moment considering the prudency of what she wanted to do. Coming to her feet, she bypassed her newly returned off-white wrap and hurried to her room to grab her dark cloak and change her shoes.

She was going to town.

***

Gabriel had no idea why he had agreed to accompany Norton’s stepbrother to the village. At the time, a stiff drink or two had sounded like a good idea. Yet, after an hour nursing his whiskey and watching Ashby have a bloody good time with the locals—many of whom he’d known from previous visits—Gabriel was beginning to wonder what the hell he was doing here.

He thought it would be a good way to take his mind off Amelia and how her shoulders had looked as she’d walked away. He’d been stunned by her outburst, but after she was gone, he’d realized how all of it must have looked to her. He hated that she’d been hurt, hated that he had no way to fix it, but there was nothing he could really do about it, other than to leave as quickly as possible so she could go about the business of forgetting he ever existed.

He doubted he’d ever be able to do the same. She was a true original. In a matter of days, she’d somehow started to matter to him. He didn’t even give a damn that she was English. He cared about her, whether she believed it or not, and he could already tell he was going to miss her like hell.

And right then, all he wanted to do was leave this place and brood in peace.

As if reading his mind, Ashby broke away from the men he was talking to and threaded his way through the throng to Gabriel’s table. “Not quite sure this is your crowd, Winters. I’ve found my way home alone plenty of times, and I can do it again tonight if you prefer to head back.” He grinned distractedly as a busty barmaid called out, “When are ye going to buy me a drink, Wills?” and gave her assets a good shake.

The man’s offer was tempting, but Gabriel shook his head. “I don’t want to abandon you.”

“Nonsense. I may very well abandon
you
if you stay.” He waggled his eyebrows at the pretty barmaid, earning a saucy wink in return.

Gabriel chuckled, fleetingly glad that the affable young heir seemed to be the polar opposite of his father. If even half of what Norton said about the Earl of Malcolm was true, it was a wonder Ashby had turned out so well. Setting down his whiskey on the scarred wood table, Gabriel nodded. “Very well. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll do just that. I want to get an early start tomorrow, anyway.”

Ashby grinned, offered a loose salute, and headed toward the waiting maid. Tossing a few coins on the table, Gabriel stood and quickly made for the exit.

The cool evening air was the perfect antidote to the stuffy, overheated pub. Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and drew in a long breath, grateful to have escaped.

“Gabriel.”

His eyes flew open at the sound of her voice.
Amelia
. He turned and spotted her just around the side of the building. She wore a long, gray jacket with the hood lightly perched at the top of her head. Why in hell would she have come here, of all places?

He hurried over, ignoring the surge of pleasure he felt at the mere sight of her. “What are you doing here? Is everything all right?” He followed her a few steps around the corner into the wide alley, where they were out of direct view of the street.

Her blue eyes were luminous in the waning light, and he couldn’t seem to look away. God, she was so beautiful. The urge to touch her, to slide his fingers down her pale cheek or run his hands through the dark silk of her hair was almost overwhelming, but he resisted. He didn’t want to upset her, not after the way they had parted.

“Everything is fine. I just…” She paused, licking her lips before starting again. “I just had to see you before you left. To apologize.”

She had come to find him here, all alone, so she could apologize? To
him
? “If anyone should apologize, it’s me. I mishandled everything, from start to finish.”

“No, you didn’t,” she insisted, shaking her head. She looked up at him with those soulful, sapphire eyes and said, “I overreacted. Badly. I understand why you were concerned that I might misunderstand your intentions and why it was so important to you that I knew where things stood. I imposed my own insecurities on the situation, and that wasn’t fair. You did not deserve my anger.”

“Amelia,” he breathed, wishing like hell he could pull her into his arms and comfort her. “Please don’t. You did nothing wrong. Your reaction was honest, and you shouldn’t ever apologize for that.”