Scandal of the Season (8 page)

At least now she would have peace for a night. The idea of spending a night alone sounded heavenly. No children waking her at all hours of the night. She couldn’t remember the last time she had a full nights sleep.

“Let’s go,” he said, holding his arm out to her.

“Yes.”

As they reached the door to the inn, it swung open. A large man with brown hair and a wide smile greeted them. “Somerton! Are you on your way to Farleigh’s?”

“Ancroft, I haven’t seen you in months,” Somerton replied with a slight grimace.

Ancroft looked over at her and smiled, revealing deep dimples in his cheeks. “I can see why. You must be keeping yourself very busy.”

Heat flashed across her cheeks with his implied meaning. She hoped Somerton would set the man straight but then realized he could not do that. She was here to play a part.

There was something familiar sounding about his name but she couldn’t place him. Had one of the women next door mentioned him? She didn’t think that was it because they were usually discreet. Why did she know that name?

Somerton pulled her closer. “Very busy, indeed, Nicholas.”

“Are you staying the night too, then? The weather has taken a nasty turn,” Ancroft said, looking up at the snow falling from the clouds.

“Yes. Hopefully, we shall be able to make it the rest of the way tomorrow. And speaking of the nasty weather, I need to get this lovely woman out of it.” Anthony moved forward.

“We should dine together tonight, Somerton. The three of us.”

“Nicholas.”

Victoria sensed the warning Anthony gave the other man but didn’t understand why.

“I already procured a private dining room and would prefer the company of an old friend and perhaps, a new one.” Ancroft winked at her.

“Very well, dinner at seven,” Somerton replied. He stepped forward dragging her along with him.

“Good day, sir.”

As the door shut behind them, Somerton said, “It’s ‘my lord’ to him.”

She stopped and pulled her arm out of his grip. “And exactly how would I know that since you never introduced us?”

“We will discuss this upstairs.”

Irritation at his manners washed over her. “Since I shall be in my room with the door securely locked, I doubt that conversation will take place.”

He pulled her close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. “But you are mistaken because I would never let my mistress sleep alone.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. He couldn’t possibly mean what he said. This was all an act. She wasn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t be his mistress. She couldn’t look away from his intense stare.

“B—but we are at an inn, not the party,” she stuttered.

“And yet, already the Lord Ancroft knows we are together. So together, we shall stay…all night.”

Anthony walked up the creaking staircase with Victoria trailing behind him. Damn Nicholas for being here. With him here, Anthony had no choice but to keep her in the same room. As he opened the door to their room, he confirmed his suspicion. The one bed in the center of the room would barely fit two people unless they were snuggled close.

And he could never sleep that close to her.

The time he had spent alone with her in the carriage had almost done him in. He constantly let his gaze slide to her sweet face. His thoughts had stayed on her lips until he finally decided making conversation would eliminate the temptation. Not that their discussion helped, either.

How could a woman who had gone through so much still look so innocent?

“This will never do,” she said as she followed him into the room.

“You have no say in the matter,” he replied a little too harshly. He understood her reason, but he would not sleep on a floor again. After spending five months without a decent bed most nights, he would sleep where he damn well pleased.

“I have no choice?”

“None at all. The bed is small but we shall manage.”

“A gentleman would offer to sleep on the floor,” she said, placing her portmanteau on the floor. Folding her arms across her chest, she tapped her foot impatiently.

He laughed softly. “Sweetheart, I am no gentleman.”

“I learned that ten years ago,” she retorted with one brow arched.

Anthony removed his greatcoat and then poked at the fire sending embers up the chimney. Resting his arm on the mantel, he stared at the fire. No woman had ever affected him so thoroughly and in so many different ways. He wanted to protect her and yet wanted to ravish her at the same time. Nevertheless, he had no right to do either.

He wondered how she could stand to be in the same room with the man who raped her. Perhaps her hard life had taught her to forget the past—something he could not seem to do.

As she moved in the room, he heard every intake of her breath, every swish of her petticoats.
Damn it!
Why her? Why couldn’t he control his damned attraction to her? This was a mistake. If he had any sense, he would return her to London and face Farleigh’s jealousy alone.

She sat on the small chair close to the fireplace and far too near him. “Perhaps now you will tell me why you did not see fit to introduce me to Lord Ancroft?”

He pushed away from the fireplace and walked to the window. “We have not developed our story.”

“Our story?”

“Who you are, when and how we met.” Anthony stared out at the falling snow, praying it would stop soon so they wouldn’t be stuck here another night.

“Oh,” she replied softly. “I had not considered that.”

He turned and faced her. “I know. Perhaps now is a good time for that discussion.”

“I agree. So who am I?” she said with a smile.

“I think it’s best if we say you are a widow from the country.”

“Mrs. Smith, perhaps?”

Anthony took the seat across from her and said, “Perfect. Now how exactly did I meet a widow in the country?”

She tapped her finger against her full lips. Her blue eyes sparkled in the waning light. A slow smile lifted her full lips upward. “But you did not meet me in the country. I came to town to visit my aunt.”

“And while visiting…” He had no idea where they might have met.

“The British Museum?”

He shook his head. “Highly unlikely I would be there.”

“The opera?”

“No.”

“A bookstore?” she suggested.

“Very well, then. We met at a bookstore. You could not reach a volume of poetry, so I pulled it down for you. From there we spoke at length before you decided you wished to take a lover. Your first since your husband died two years ago.”

“What did he die of?” she asked.

“What does it matter?”

“Someone might ask. I need to know that we would say the same thing.”

“Consumption,” he said, knowing it was a common enough malady.

“Really?”

Impatient with the conversation, he raked his hands through his short hair. “Why not?”

“I was rather hoping for something far more exciting than dull consumption,” she replied with a shrug.

“Kill him off any way you deem fit.”

She smiled and her eyes widened with amusement. “Very well, then. It was a dreadful scandal, you know. His best friend took an improper interest in me. Poor Harry had no choice but to call the man out. Can you imagine, his best friend? And when it was over, both men were dead because of me.” She shook her head with tears in her eyes. “Tragic.”

Anthony burst out laughing. He couldn’t remember the last time anything or anyone had made him laugh, really laugh. “Well played, Mrs. Smith.”

“Were the tears too much?”

“Absolutely perfect.” He suddenly had no fear of her performance this week. She would play the part as if she’d been born on the stage. And it would be best for him to remember that her being here was nothing but a job.

Victoria watched the serving maid close the door behind her, leaving Victoria in the company of two men with no chaperone. If any of her friends saw her now, she would be mortified. Thankfully, no one would ever discover the truth. Once this week was over, she would return to being Victoria Seaton, the pious woman who took in orphans. And she would have an extra amount of money to allow her a little freedom and security.

Lady Whitely would not have much say in what Victoria did or with whom she interacted. As much as she owed the lady everything, Victoria had always known Lady Whitely could take it away in an instant, leaving her back on the streets with nothing.

“Do I now get to meet this beautiful woman?” Lord Ancroft asked with a smile as he walked up to them.

“Nicholas, this is Mrs. Smith,” Somerton said slowly. “Anne, this is Nicholas, Marquess of Ancroft.”

Victoria curtsied and hoped she did it properly. Lady Whitely had taught her the correct way to curtsy but it wasn’t a common thing for her. “My lord,” she whispered.

Ancroft lifted her hand to his lips and kissed the top. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Smith.”

“And you, my lord.” She stood up fully and took the man in as any mistress would. His brown eyes sparkled as he sent her an easy smile. The unease that had consumed her all day in the carriage and then in the room with Somerton finally dissipated. Lord Ancroft seemed to know how to make a woman feel comfortable.

“Shall we sit down?” Ancroft asked, pointing to the table set for three.

“Mrs. Mayweather did not join you?” Somerton asked as he walked to the table.

“She was looking for a little more than I could give her.”

“Ahh, marriage,” Somerton said with a smug grin.

“That is what most women want, is it not, Mrs. Smith?”

Victoria sat in the seat Somerton held out for her. “For some women, I suppose that is true.”

Somerton took his seat with a frown. “But not you?”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “You forget I have been married, darling. Why would I want to lock myself into that institution again? It is only made so men can control us.”

Ancroft laughed. “I like her, Somerton. It is refreshing to hear a woman speak so candidly.”

“Yes,” he answered but gave her a curious look as if he didn’t believe her.

The innkeeper knocked and then entered with two servants trailing behind him. One maid placed a bottle of wine on the table while the other held a loaf of warm bread in a basket. Instantly, Victoria heard her stomach rumble.

The maid poured wine for everyone as the innkeeper told them the menu for the evening. Victoria picked up her wineglass and took a sip of the dry fruity beverage. The warmth soothed her tired body. If only she were in her own room where she could order a bath.

“Vi—Anne,” Somerton started and looked over at her. “Did you want the fish or the roast beef?”

“The beef, please.”

“Are you all right?” he asked, leaning in closer to her. “You look a little dazed.”

“Excuse me, my lords. I am just a little weary from the trip.”

Ancroft nodded. “I understand completely. At least you are better off than my cousin’s friend.”

“Oh?” she muttered.

“Poor Avis cannot bear the motion of a carriage for long without…well, you do understand I’m certain.”

Victoria looked over at Somerton in shock. She suddenly could not catch her breath. Ancroft…now she remembered! Of course, he knew Avis because he was Elizabeth’s cousin, and Lord Selby’s friend and Jennette’s friend, too. While Victoria had never met him, she had heard several conversations regarding him.

He knew her friends.

She would be ruined.

And it was all Somerton’s fault.

Seeing Somerton’s gaze grow cold, she understood he wanted her to continue the conversation. “Who is your cousin, my lord? Perhaps I know of her.”

“Lady Elizabeth. She recently married and is now the Duchess of Kendal.”

“Do you know of her, Anne?” Somerton said as he stared at her. The warning in his eyes was not needed.

Victoria shook her head slowly as if mulling over the question. She turned toward Ancroft. “I don’t believe I do. I am certain they must be lovely ladies if they are friends of yours, my lord.”

Thankfully, the servers returned with food. Victoria picked up her wine and drank down deeply. This act might be far harder than she ever expected. Somerton had told her that no one of her acquaintance would be at the party. This was a dreadful situation and she was in far too deep to halt it.

As the evening wore on, Victoria realized several things. Ancroft and Somerton had known each other for many years, but still there was a certain distance as if Somerton wouldn’t let anyone get too close to him. But more importantly, she felt quite certain that the only reason they were dining together was to test her. Somerton must have wanted to gauge her reaction to Ancroft’s relationship with her friends. That only served to increase her anger at the man sitting next to her, which in turn caused her to drink more than she ever had in her life.

“Do you remember the night of your eighteenth birthday, Somerton?” Ancroft smiled. “We thought you’d never get the nerve up to walk into Lady Whitely’s.”

“Lady Whitely? Who is she?” Victoria asked in an innocent tone. He’d gone to Lady Whitely’s before they’d had sexual congress on the side step of St. George’s Church. Her ire surged again.

“Perhaps this is a topic for just the two of us to reminisce upon, Nicholas.” Somerton sat back against his chair and sipped his wine.

Ancroft shrugged. “Somerton, do not be such a prude. The woman is your mistress for godsakes.”

“True, but it still is in bad form to speak of such things in front of her.”

“Nonetheless,” Victoria interjected. “As I am sitting right here and asked a question which no one has deemed necessary to answer, I think we should speak of it.”

“I do like her, Somerton,” Ancroft said with a chuckle. He leaned over closer to her and said, “If he should ever bore you, I would be happy to be your protector.”

Victoria smiled at him and then glanced over at Somerton. She reached over and stroked Somerton’s cheek relishing the hard feel of his jaw, hoping to unnerve him as much as meeting Ancroft had unsettled her.

“I highly doubt he could ever bore me. And I intend to make certain he never becomes bored with me.”

Somerton clasped her hand and kissed it softly. Sparks traveled up her arm as she attempted to pull away. His hand held her tight. He stared at her as his eyes turned greener.

So much for unnerving
him
.

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, “you have nothing to worry about there.”

Anthony watched as Victoria endeavored to maintain her stability while she walked up the uneven steps. He opened the door, and she tripped over the threshold. Catching her close, he whispered, “Just how much wine did you have?”

“Three glasses.”

“If you are to maintain your pretense as my mistress you must learn to hold your drink better.” He shut the door with his foot and walked her over to the chair by the fireplace.

She put a hand to her forehead. “Why is the room moving?”

“It is not.” He placed more coal on the brazier to last the night. “You are drunk.”

“No, I am
mot.
Did I say
mot?
”

“Yes, I believe you did, which only proves my point. You’ve had far too much to drink.”

She stood up unsteadily. “Well, I am not drunk. And why didn’t you tell me Ancroft is Elizabeth’s cousin?”

“If I had believed it might come up, then I would have informed you.”

“No, you wouldn’t have. It was a test, wasn’t it? You wanted to discover if I could handle an introduction to a man who knew my friends.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did I pass?”

“No. You looked at me as if seeking an answer when your eyes should only have been on Ancroft.” How did the woman know he had been testing her? Once he’d seen Ancroft in the courtyard, and she did not comment on his name, Anthony seized the opportunity to determine how she would react to a man that was not only acquainted but also related to one of her friends. Had Nicholas not brought up Avis’s name, Anthony would have mentioned Elizabeth’s name.

“Well, perhaps I should keep my eyes on Ancroft all the time. After all, he did infer he was looking for a new mistress.”

A flash of anger surged in him. He crossed the distance and pulled her close to him. “You shall do no such thing. As long as I am paying you the only person you will look at is me.”

He stared down at the fire in her blue eyes and started. The urge to kiss her lips again filled him with unwanted desire. He couldn’t have her after what he did to her. But nothing his brain told him stopped his head from inclining toward hers. Her eyes widened as she realized his intention. Her beautiful lips parted with anticipation that his lips would touch hers.

Just as he started to pull her closer and let his eyes shut, she pushed him away.

“Just exactly what do you think you’re doing?” she exclaimed. “I am certainly not
that
drunk.”