Read It Takes a Scandal Online

Authors: Caroline Linden

Tags: #Regency, #Historical Romance, #Fiction

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BOOK: It Takes a Scandal
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Penelope snorted. “That shows good sense, if you ask me. I would certainly avoid Mama if I could . . . But what is Mr. Vane really like? Why won’t he come to the ball? Is he as black as a devil? Is he deformed? Is he frightening and dangerous?”

“Oh really, Penelope.” She sighed. “He was very kind to forge into the woods and pull that silly dog out of the brambles. It would have ruined my gown, but he not only fetched Milo, he insisted on walking me home so I wouldn’t have to carry the muddy little beast.”

“So he’s actually kind and amiable?” Penelope frowned. “Being moody and dangerous is so much more interesting . . .”

“What else did you hear about him?” There was no reason to hide her curiosity. Penelope would be glad to tell all she knew, and Abigail couldn’t deny that she was interested.

“Not much. He’s one of those reclusive sorts who rarely goes out. I can’t remember more, we must ask Lady Samantha.” She slipped her arm through Abigail’s and began tugging her toward the front of the room. “You’ll adore her. Papa was beside himself when she and her sister arrived; daughters of the Earl of Stratford, you know.”

“But I wanted to tell Mama that Milo is safely home,” she objected as her sister towed her along.

“I’m sure she already presumes as much,” muttered Penelope. “
You
went after him, after all, and
you’re
the good daughter who always makes her parents proud.”

“I think you’re taking this too much to heart.”

“As would you, if you’d been locked away from everything interesting in life.” Penelope plastered on a wide smile as they approached a pair of very elegant ladies, one about Abigail’s own age and the other some years older. “Lady Turley, Lady Samantha, may I present to you my sister, Miss Abigail Weston? Abigail, here are Viscountess Turley and Lady Samantha Lennox. Their father is the Earl of Stratford, who owns the magnificent house across the river.”

“How lovely to make your acquaintance.” Abigail curtsied, as did the other ladies.

“Welcome to Richmond.” Lady Turley smiled. Tall and slender, she looked every bit as aristocratic as one might expect a viscountess to be. “Our parents send their regrets, and hope to make your parents’ acquaintance before long.”

This was a warmer reception than Abigail had expected; in her London experience, earls and other noblemen weren’t entirely eager to meet them. But it was very welcome all the same, so she smiled. “That’s very kind of you. We’re delighted you were able to attend.”

Lady Samantha laughed lightly. She was a lovely young woman, with dark blond hair and soft green eyes. “Oh no, we must thank you! Richmond is a quiet little town. New society is always welcome.”

Abigail ignored her sister’s dark look at the mention of how quiet Richmond was. “I’ve always liked a little quiet. London is so hot and dirty in the summer. We’re very pleased with Hart House, aren’t we, Penelope?”

Penelope gave a brittle smile. “Of course! But I do hope you can indulge my shameful curiosity. One of our neighbors sent his regrets, and I confess, I’m desperate to know why. Mr. Vane of Montrose Hill. Are you acquainted with him?”

Lady Turley hesitated, giving her sister an odd glance before replying. “Not really. I’m sure you’ll encounter him eventually, Miss Weston.”

“Yes, this property borders his, doesn’t it?” Penelope went on, digging without a flicker of remorse. If Abigail hadn’t been burning with curiosity, she would have changed the subject, but as it was, she only tried to look polite. “I think they even share a patch of the woods. In fact, my sister met him out walking this evening.”

“We met by chance,” said Abigail. “He saved my mother’s lapdog from a fierce bramble bush.”

Astonishment flickered in Lady Samantha’s face. Lady Turley stiffened, and glanced at her sister again, this time almost worriedly. “How gallant,” she said after a moment’s pause.

“He’s a rather private man,” murmured Lady Samantha. “That is . . . very gallant.”

There was an awkward moment of silence. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to ask them. Even Penelope could tell she’d brought up something uncomfortable and didn’t know what to say.

Lady Turley broke the silence. “Have you discovered the Fragrant Walk? Hart House is famous for it.”

“Yes, I did discover the walk,” said Abigail gratefully. “I didn’t know that path had a name, but the Fragrant Walk is a perfect description.”

“I hear it led to a grotto originally, but Lady Burton had that filled in many years ago.”

“Indeed!” cried Lady Samantha in evident relief. “It used to be our brother Benedict’s fondest wish, when he was a boy, to discover the remains of the grotto. He even begged permission of Lady Burton, Hart House’s previous owner, to explore the woods in search of it.”

They chatted for a few more minutes of local curiosities before Mama joined them, effectively ending any chance of gossip about Mr. Vane. Eventually they had to excuse themselves and meet other guests, but Abigail held some hope Lady Samantha in particular might become a friend. She didn’t seem to have excessive pride about her, and aside from her obvious shock at Mr. Vane’s name, she seemed warm and amiable.

The rest of the ball passed agreeably enough. Papa seemed as pleased as could be when the evening ended.

“I knew Richmond would be good for us,” he said with relish. “Clara, my love, I’m sure there’s never been a finer ball given in this town.”

“I’m delighted you’re pleased, my dear.” She let him kiss her cheek. “But now I’m going to bed, and don’t look for me before noon tomorrow. My feet!”

“I shall rub every toe with almond oil,” he promised. “Good night, my beautiful girls.” He stopped to give Abigail and Penelope each a smacking kiss on the forehead. “Wasn’t your papa right about having a ball?”

“As ever,” Abigail told him. Penelope rolled her eyes, but Abigail could tell she was pleased as well. They followed their parents up the stairs, but then Penelope trailed along right into her room.

“How do you feel now about Richmond?” Abigail sat down to remove her jewelry. “Still certain we’re condemned to boredom?”

“I wonder what made Lady Samantha so tense when we asked about Mr. Vane,” mused Penelope.

Abigail’s fingers slowed on the clasp of her necklace. “I’ve no idea.”

“I bet he’s got some deliciously wicked secret.” Penelope leaned against the bedpost, a gleam of trouble in her eye. “Why does he keep to himself, I wonder?”

“Go to bed, Penelope.” Abigail was relieved when her maid, Betsy, slipped into the room. “I’ve no idea what to make of Mr. Vane.”

But for once, she was even more interested in the answer than her sister was.

 

 

Chapter 4

 

“I
think this is our most likely hope.”

Abigail eyed the bookshop. It was large and clean, with windows that sparkled in the morning light. It looked welcoming and respectable and utterly unlike the shop in London that sold
50 Ways to Sin
. Now that they had held their ball, Mama felt they had been introduced to, and become part of, Richmond society. When Penelope asked if they might walk into town to visit the shops, Mama agreed, provided James went with them. Their brother had departed almost at once on his own errands, leaving them outside a milliner’s shop. Penelope, of course, had other plans, and towed Abigail through the streets to this bookshop. “Are you certain?”

“Of course not,” whispered Penelope. “That’s why you have to go in and ask.”

“This looks like a shop Mama might visit,” replied Abigail, stubbornly resisting her sister’s attempts to nudge her forward. “You’re going to get us both in horrid trouble, Pen.”

“I gave my word I would take the entire blame if this goes wrong. Mama would murder me, but she’d probably forgive you. And you gave me your word you would try. Please, Abby.” There was a note of desperation in Penelope’s voice. “I am wasting away from boredom . . .”

“We’ve only been in Richmond eleven days,” muttered Abigail, but she relented at her sister’s expression. Unlike her, Penelope wasn’t happy with a good book and a cozy spot to read. Penelope craved adventure and gossip and excitement, and since getting caught reading the notorious pamphlet over a month ago, she hadn’t had much of any of those things. Their mother had clamped down on Penelope’s freedom like a vise. She was allowed to go to dances and parties again, but she was no longer permitted to wander freely and talk with friends; she was required to stay near their mother, and dance with the gentlemen chosen for her. She was only allowed to walk into town because her siblings had come with her.

But Abigail also knew—just as well as her sister knew—that if they were discovered on this errand, there would be hell to pay. When Penelope had been caught before, she had sworn on her very life that Abigail had nothing to do with it and hadn’t even known about the pamphlet. That was a bold-faced lie, of course, but it had left Abigail free . . . free to shop where she liked. But if Mama learned she had been trying to purchase the pamphlet, she would know that Penelope had lied to her, and even worse, that Abigail had helped deceive her. Both their lives would become misery.

“Very well,” she said at last. “You’d better stay far away from me. Jamie will be back for us soon, so we haven’t got much time.”

Wild joy and eagerness lit her sister’s face. “Thank you, Abby! Thank you! I shall be utterly demure and as silent as a mouse. Just ask politely for it, and try to look mature and sophisticated when you do.”

They went into the bookshop, where a little bell tinkled over the door. The shop was beautifully arranged, with bookcases lining the walls and a bench in the middle. It was calm and peaceful, just as a bookshop should be. It was also thankfully almost empty of witnesses to the impending crime. Penelope strolled to a bookcase and pretended great interest in the books there, although Abigail knew her sister’s attention was focused on her.

Trying to look, as her sister had suggested, mature and sophisticated despite the thumping of her heart, she approached the counter, where a middle-aged proprietress was wrapping up a book for another lady. When that customer had left with her package, Abigail stepped up to the counter.

“May I help you, ma’am?” the shopkeeper asked pleasantly.

Abigail took out a piece of paper where she’d written two titles, one for herself and one her brother wanted. She had permission to buy those. She said a small prayer no one ever learned she’d written a third title on the list after her mother approved it. “I hope so. Do you happen to have these?”

The shopkeeper read the list, shooting her a quick, measuring look at the end. “I believe so,” she said in neutral tone. “I must check in the back, especially for the last.”

“Thank you.” Abigail inclined her head regally and the woman disappeared into the back room of the shop. So far, so good. Over her left shoulder, she caught her sister’s eyes. Penelope was holding what looked like a prayer book in front of her, but her gaze was fixed on Abigail. At Abigail’s tiny nod, her eyes brightened hopefully before dropping back to the prayer book. She turned a page with exaggerated care, although Abigail noticed her eyes weren’t moving across the pages.

The bell on the door tinkled again behind her. It sounded loud in the hushed bookshop. Abigail darted a wary glance around her bonnet brim, praying her brother hadn’t come to fetch them early, but gasped when she saw who it was. “Mr. Vane!”

He stood half turned in the doorway, as if he’d been about to go back out. At her exclamation he seemed to flinch, but he faced her readily enough. “Miss Weston.” He bowed.

Abigail curtsied. She could feel her sister’s stare boring into her back, but she ignored it. “How lovely to see you again.”

In daylight he was just as handsome as she’d thought before. His sleepy-lidded eyes were brown, she saw, and if he were to smile, the effect would probably be devastating. She remembered what James had said about reduced circumstances and studied him closer, but country clothing was more forgiving; she couldn’t see any difference between his coat and her brother’s. Why
would
such a man become a recluse?

Slowly he came toward the counter. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“It certainly is not! I cannot thank you enough for helping with Milo the other night. When I returned to the house and saw how wild I looked, merely from running after him, I realized how great a service you did me.” She smiled ruefully. “Going into that thicket would have left me unfit to be seen.”

His gaze traveled over her. “I am delighted to see that did not occur.”

A small smile touched her lips at the compliment. “My mother begs you to call on her someday, so she can thank you herself.”

“It was a trifle,” he said in his quiet way.

Abigail kept smiling, even though she could see her sister from the corner of one eye, almost falling over in her attempt to get a better look at him. Penelope was keeping her word to be as quiet as a mouse, but she had made no promises to hide her rabid curiosity about elusive and mysterious gentlemen. Abigail casually turned, further blocking her sister’s view. “It struck me that I don’t know where my father’s property ends. I would hate to trespass on your land. Can you tell me precisely where the dividing line is, so I don’t intrude on you again?”

Mr. Vane’s eyes flickered to the side; he had seen Penelope. Abigail said a fierce prayer that her sister, for once in her life, held her tongue and minded her own affairs. “I’m no longer entirely certain myself, Miss Weston. But you have my permission to walk in the woods at will, even if you stray onto Montrose land.”

BOOK: It Takes a Scandal
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