Scandal of the Season Read online

  “Because he does not wish you to be left alone and vulnerable while he is otherwise occupied.”

  “Occupied? What in heaven’s name would…” She stopped. “Caroline.” She knew it for a certainty, even before he confirmed it with a nod. “And you are the only person Charles trusts with me while he and Rowena keep close watch on her.”

  “Yes.”

  Which led to another question, one she almost dared not ask. “And what will people say when you and I are seen much about Town together?”

  “That your cousin has saddled you with an old hound to keep the young pups at bay,” he drawled. “I’ll be exceedingly flattered should anyone assume differently.”

  If she had her way, that was exactly what they would do, right up until the moment he proposed to someone else. In the meantime, Yarborough would give up on her and find a new target for his ambitions. It’s perfect! She hugged the thought to herself and kept it locked away where it wouldn’t show on her face. “Well, given the fact that he’s been badgering me to marry, I would have thought him happy to allow me a bit more leash.”

  “Oh, don’t mistake his intentions. Your cousin wants you married—but he also wishes to make certain you marry the right sort of man.”

  “And he trusts you to make that determination, does he?”

  “Like him, I have your best interests at heart. He knows this.”

  Heat rose in her cheeks again. “Perhaps he’s right, at that. And after all, you do know my standards.” It was a rash thing to say, and she knew it. But it couldn’t be unsaid. She softened. “If any gentleman is able to pass muster with you as his judge, I say let him come forth and seek to win me.”

  His hazel eyes hardened. “If any man is able to pass muster with me as his judge, he will be a remarkable fellow indeed, for it will be most difficult for me to deem any man worthy of you.” He blinked and the strange, almost savage look was gone before she could question it.

  Charles could not have given her a more protective guardian. With any luck, Sorin’s watchful presence at her side in London would stave off any serious pursuit. A faint call made her look back to the coaches, where Charles was waving to signal their impending departure.

  Sorin, taking note, offered her his arm.

  She groped for words to make small talk as they walked back together, but all pleasantries seemed to have vanished from her vocabulary. Neither did he deign to speak. The air between them seemed heavy with unspoken thoughts, and her conscience pricked her.

  Am I doing the right thing?

  “Your essentials have been transferred to Lady Wincanton’s carriage,” said her cousin as they approached.

  “Thank you, Charles.” Lady Yarborough, who looked as if she’d just swallowed something bitter, glared at her as she passed. Had she lacked better manners, Eleanor would have stuck her tongue out and asked her how she liked being excluded. Instead, she settled for sailing by with her head high. Lord willing, Sorin’s mother would find her company pleasant enough that she wouldn’t be required to ride with Lady Yarborough again. The thought was reinforced as they passed her son, who was complaining stridently about the dust ruining the shine on his boots.

  “Now, if only it would contrive to rain,” murmured Sorin for her ears only as he walked beside her.

  “You would prolong our suffering?” she replied just as quietly, though they’d already passed out of earshot.

  The grin he shot her was devilish. “I would claim a seat aboard my own conveyance, naturally. Owing to its smaller compartment and my mother’s need for leg room—her joints ache terribly if she does not stretch every now and again—Charles and Yarborough would have to ride in the other.”

  “I see. What an unfortunate arrangement for Charles and Rowena,” she mused with a little devilishness of her own.

  “Indeed. But as they were the ones to extend the invitation, I feel they ought to bear the majority of the consequences, don’t you?”

  So droll and full of mischief was his manner that she couldn’t help laughing. “Though I quite agree, you are wicked to actually say it.” She glanced back to see Lady Yarborough shaking a chubby finger first at a footman and then at a piece of luggage—presumably hers—tied atop the coach. The woman was honking orders to have it brought down at once. Charles stood by, watch in hand, looking rather put out. She turned back to Sorin with a grimace. “Instead of praying for rain, I think we ought to pray for a miracle—in the form of another coach for hire.”

  Though he laughed at her sharp jest, Sorin shot a quick, silent prayer heavenward. Please let it rain! His mother would be with them in the coach of course, but it would still be another opportunity to be close to Eleanor.

  A month, he vowed. One month, and he would make her see him as more than a fusty bachelor. More than just an old friend.

  He had not missed the black look on Yarborough’s face. It was brash of the young whelp to direct such open malice at him, but such were the vagaries of youth. There was no love in the man’s heart for Eleanor, of that much he was certain. His designs on her were driven purely by the potential for gain. She knew it, too, he suspected.

  As they approached his carriage, he surreptitiously waved the waiting servant off so that he could hand her up himself. Before he could do so, however, Eleanor turned to him as if about to say something, but then appeared to change her mind. His eye was drawn to where the white pearls of her teeth clamped down on her rosy bottom lip.

  Hoping to ease the tension, he whispered, “I’ll check in on you and Mother from time to time to make certain you don’t get gobbled up.”

  “Thank you,” she replied in a small voice, looking down. “I’ll do my best to be good company for her.”

  “You are always good company, Ellie,” he said as he opened the carriage door. A shy smile was his reward. He returned it, extending his hand and enjoying their brief touch as he helped her step up on the sideboard. It was a wrench having to leave her, but it couldn’t be helped.

  His mother poked her head around and fixed him with a questioning look. “You did send ahead to the inn, yes? They expect us?”

  “Charles said his man returned two days ago,” he replied with a subtle nod, answering her unspoken inquiry as well. “Arrangements have been made at all overnight stops.”

  “Excellent. I shall require hot water to be brought to my room immediately upon arrival, and I shall want dinner sent up. I will be too exhausted for words by the time we reach the place.” She shifted a little and winced, ruining the effect of her imperious demands. “When we reach London, I shall ask you to have an upholsterer refurbish the cushions in this carriage,” she added. “The padding is inferior and needs replacing.”

  “I beg your pardon, Mother. I’ll do so and order extra care with the stuffing. For now, I’ll have some pillows and blankets brought down.” Ignoring his mother’s spluttering, half-hearted objections, he summoned a servant. From the corner of his eye, he saw the tiniest smile of approval curl the corner of Eleanor’s mouth.

  “Ladies, I leave you in good hands,” he said as the servants began to bring the requested items. Now to ready himself for the next leg of the day’s journey. From the look on Yarborough’s face, it was likely to be an arduous affair. Resigned, he made his way back up front.

  “Lady Eleanor is well, I hope?” asked Yarborough.

  “Quite.” He took grim satisfaction in the grimace of displeasure that furrowed the other man’s brow. Without another word, he mounted and moved to the fore to join Charles.

  “How are things?” his friend asked quietly.

  “Perfectly adequate, save for a complaint concerning the relationship between posterior and cushion.”

  “I meant between you and Eleanor.”

  Sorin stared at him, unsure how to respond.

  Charles chuckled. “Come now, I’m not blind. I know the pair of you had a disagreement of some sort. And so does Yarborough, for that matter. I assume it was quickly resolved?”

  �
�Oh, that. Yes. Merely a small misunderstanding.”

  “You two seem to be experiencing a number of those lately. I certainly hope it won’t impede your ability to keep an eye on her in London.”

  “It won’t. In fact, that was the subject of our discussion. I had to tell her.”

  “What? I thought we were agreed not to—”

  “She objected, of course,” Sorin cut in with a shrug. “But once she understood why you made such a request of me, she was amenable to the idea.” He pinned Charles with a look. “She is very much aware of her friend’s propensity for scandal and agreed that preventive measures must be taken.”

  “Well, thank God for that!” said Charles, relief spreading across his face. Then his eyes narrowed suddenly. “I hope this is not some ruse on her part, pretending cooperation now only to lead us a merry chase later. She is most displeased over our plans for her this Season.”

  “She’ll be perfectly well behaved, I assure you.” He hoped. “And I will ensure that the gentlemen seeking her company are mindful of their manners as well.” He glanced back to see Yarborough coming toward them, his face as sour as vinegar. He must have gotten quite an earful from his mother. “Speaking of which, here comes our new friend.”

  At once, Charles whistled and waved his hand to signal the lead rider to move out before the lad could catch up to them.

  Sorin didn’t bother to stifle his amusement this time, either.

  Chapter Eleven

  Eleanor forced herself not to squirm as the Dowager Countess of Wincanton inspected her. Her gaze was not unkind, but it was penetrating. Just outside, she heard Sorin issuing commands concerning pillows and such. Desperate to escape the intense scrutiny of her new traveling companion, she peeked out from between the curtains.

  It afforded her a rare opportunity to observe Sorin’s profile for a moment unseen. Or so she thought. Turning, he caught her eye and smiled. At once she dropped the curtain and looked down at her lap, unwilling to expose her burning face to the carriage’s other occupant. The door opened again, causing her to flinch, but it was only a servant bringing in blankets.

  Once everything was in place and the servants gone, the carriage lurched into motion, forcing both ladies to steady themselves until the rocking settled into a more predictable rhythm.

  “Thank you for inviting me to join you,” Eleanor said at last, breaking the deepening silence. Her face once more cool, she risked raising it.

  “You are most welcome,” replied Lady Wincanton with a brief smile. “I can well imagine how uncomfortable you must have been. Four together in one carriage seems to me unbearably crowded.”

  “Yes. It was quite close,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

  “Even more uncomfortable when confined with an individual for whom one has little liking,” added Lady Wincanton, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

  Eleanor felt her cheeks again grow warm. Just how much had Sorin overheard? And how much of it had he told his mother? “No doubt,” she finally replied, her voice coming out sounding choked.

  The woman’s smile returned, and this time it was warm and genuine. “I think we can agree that a journey may be either lengthened or shortened by the quality of one’s traveling companions.”

  “Indeed we can,” Eleanor replied, half laughing at herself. Ironically, it seemed she’d jumped from the boiling pot directly into the fire.

  “Then let us shorten our journey, shall we?” said the older woman with relish. “I have not bothered to keep up with the news of the county for an age. Nothing has seemed worthy of my interest—until now. Tell me of young Sir Yarborough,” she demanded. “Sorin says you knew each other as children. What think you of the lad and his mother?”

  Again, Eleanor wondered just how much the woman already knew. “I, ah…”

  The Dowager Countess chuckled. “I’ve put you on the spot now, but you needn’t worry, my dear. For your sake, I shall for the moment forego polite speech and tell you that my own impression is not a flattering one. The woman is garish and coarse, and her son is no better than a puffed-up fool of a peacock.” She sat back and pursed her lips. “There. Now you may proceed without concern for my delicate sensibilities.”

  A laugh borne purely of surprise escaped Eleanor and she clapped her hands over her mouth, horrified.

  But Lady Wincanton merely smiled. “I can see I’ve shocked you. I should have perhaps waited a bit longer before so freely offering my opinion, but I cannot help thinking you share it.”

  “I would be lying if I said I did not,” Eleanor admitted, surrendering. “He was a horrid little boy who has grown into an equally horrid man. As for his mother…” She relayed the conversation that had caused such an uproar. “I know I should have held my tongue, but the wrongness of it was such that I simply could not remain silent, not even for the sake of peace.”

  Lady Wincanton nodded. “I agree. To have done so would have led her to believe you were in agreement with her.”

  “And it would have encouraged her to continue in her attempts to sway my cousin to favor her son’s suit,” Eleanor added drily.

  “Ah, now we come to it,” said Lady Wincanton, her eyes robin-bright. “I thought there was an ulterior motive behind their wanting to join our party. Their coach could easily have been repaired in time for the journey. So your old enemy has decided to woo you, has he?”

  “He thinks only of my purse—and perhaps a bit of revenge for my embarrassing him when we were young.” She didn’t elaborate further. Sorin might understand her reasons for having knocked the brute on his arse, but his mother might not. “It is my hope that in light of our recent disagreement, Lady Yarborough will now reconsider me as a daughter-in-law and persuade him to look elsewhere for a bride.”

  “And if she does not?”

  Eleanor pressed her lips together briefly. “Then I shall have little choice but to make my feelings on the matter unmistakably clear.” And she would do so in a manner guaranteed to put off any further pursuit.

  As though she’d heard the rebellious thought, Lady Wincanton nodded, her expression grim but approving. “You have no fear of making enemies, do you?”

  It wasn’t really a question, but Eleanor answered it anyway. “No. I don’t,” she said recklessly. And if she did, she wasn’t about to show it.

  “Sorin told me I’d like you even better now that you are grown. He was right.”

  Eleanor barely refrained from gaping in astonishment. He told her he thinks me grown? She had no time to ponder the revelation.

  “But then, my son has always been a good judge of character,” continued the old woman, seemingly oblivious to her companion’s increasing shock. “Jane was a very nice girl, too, though I vow she was much milder in temperament. A timid soul, she was—almost passive. You, however, are anything but a silent observer. Where Jane took great pains to avoid confrontation, you, I think, would rather lead the charge.”

  Oh, dear…

  Eleanor’s heart paused in its rhythm as Lady Wincanton lifted her chin high. “I have decided that I like you and that we shall be friends, you and I. As such, you need not worry should the Yarboroughs attempt to discredit you. If they should be so foolish, know that they will find themselves fighting a battle on more than one front.” Her gleaming eyes narrowed even as Eleanor’s widened. “I may be old, but I’m anything but toothless. London is still my bailiwick, and those two vulgar upstarts would be wise not to cross me.”

  It was a continuing struggle to hide her surprise. Lady Wincanton was nothing like she remembered. But then, she’d only been a slip of a girl the last time they’d spoken at length—if a mere ten minute conversation could be considered as such. “Th-thank you, madam,” Eleanor finally stammered. “Your confidence is most appreciated.”

  “As I said, I have decided that I like you. Now, I think it is time for some refreshment. Let us see what awaits us inside this hamper.”

  As Sorin’s mother rummaged through the contents of the basket, El
eanor breathed a quiet sigh of relief. She had passed some sort of test, apparently. It felt good knowing she wasn’t alone in her disapproval of the Yarboroughs. By contrast, Rowena had been unhappy with her outspokenness and would no doubt have a few choice words for her tonight. She’d do her best to smooth things over, but that wouldn’t extend to making an apology to Lady Yarborough. She’d sooner cut out her own tongue than kowtow to that woman!

  The two of them chatted over lemonade and an assortment of carefully packed delicacies, passing the time in as pleasant a manner as could be had whilst being jostled about in the confines of a carriage. Surprisingly, Eleanor discovered they had much in common. The more they talked, the more she genuinely liked Lady Wincanton. Even so, she was careful not to reveal too much of herself, and she especially avoided talking about her relationship with Sorin.

  After a while, they fell into a companionable silence, and Lady Wincanton’s head began to nod.

  Now she had time to contemplate all that had been said. He thinks of me as grown… A thrill of gleeful triumph ran through her. That thought led to another, less innocent one. If he’s willing to alter his view of me from child to adult, might he be willing to alter it further? She’d meant only to use Sorin’s situation to help her dissuade Yarborough, but she had to consider the opportunity presented.

  He wanted her help to find a wife. How could she help him unless she knew what sort of woman he sought? If she herself could manage to fit that description… I might not have to leave Somerset after all. Again, she wondered at the wisdom of even contemplating a union with him. They were good friends, but marriage? Could it work?

  Far sooner than expected, a bright ray of amber light peeked through the swaying curtains, its angle telling her that the time had indeed passed swiftly. The coach slowed, and Eleanor looked out to see the small, bustling village of Hindon. Eventually, they rolled to a stop in the twilit courtyard of the Ellington Arms coaching inn.