A Dash of Scandal

Ten

“Suit the action to the word, the word to the action.” And find the Mad Ton Thief seems to be the outcry from London Society. Acknowledgment is given to Lord Dunraven. Because of his efforts, home soirées must now suffer the presence of ill-at-ease Runners. Why? one must ask, when many of the ton believe the thief is a ghost. One would think the earl would be too busy to bother with the thief, since Lady Lambsbeth is in Town for the rest of the Season.—Lord Truefitt, Society’s Daily Column
“Blasted devils, all of them,” Chandler muttered to himself as he wadded the newspaper clipping Fines had just given him. He looked around the crowded room for a place to throw it but found nothing nearby.

Chandler stood just inside one of the arched alcoves in the ballroom at Almack’s. He’d been feeling quite good, looking forward to spending the evening in Miss Blair’s company until Fines appeared with a copy of the latest tittle-tattle. He shouldn’t have read it. He knew better. It always left him feeling angry and ruined his evening. Tonight was no exception.

It might be worth getting married just so the gossip-mongers would leave him alone.

“You have only yourself to blame, Dunraven,” Fines said in a high-handed tone.

“Why the hell do you think I would bring such misery on myself?”

“I tried to warn you last night that Lady Lambsbeth was in attendance.”

The orchestra played a tune that seemed to match the slow, strong beat of Chandler’s heart. The dance floor was filled with elaborately dressed ladies and expensively clad gentlemen twirling and sidestepping in unison. Chandler was thankful the windows in the large room were open. The gossip along with his tight collar and neckcloth was definitely making him hot.

He’d made an appearance at three different parties tonight, looking for anyone who might not fit in with the usual crowd. At last he’d realized what an ineffectual idea that had been. He was not going to nab the thief at one of the house parties. If that happened, it would have to be one of Doulton’s Runners who did it.

He searched the crowd once again for Miss Blair, as he’d done the entire hour he’d been in the ballroom. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. He’d felt like an anxious schoolboy as he’d dressed tonight. He couldn’t wait to get here so he could see her, talk to her, dance with her. He wanted her back in his arms.

“Did you hear me, Dunraven?”

“Yes,” he said, but wasn’t sure he had. “I was just thinking that if I ever get my hands around the neck of Lord Truefitt, I’ll happily strangle him until he begs for mercy and swears he’ll never pick up another quill to put in ink!”

“All you and Andrew wanted to do was talk about some penniless girl from the country. What was her name—Miss Blondel?”

Chandler took umbrage at Fines for speaking of her in such an ill manner. “Miss Blair. And where did you hear that she was a penniless girl from the country?”

“I believe Andrew said as much last night when he alluded to the fact she was in Town only for the Season and hoping to make a comfortable match.”

“He doesn’t know as much about her as I do,” Chandler said contentiously. “You can tell by her clothing, her manner of speech, and the way she carries herself,” the way she feels in my arms, the sweetness of her kisses, “that she was not raised penniless.”

“It could be that her family splurged on clothes just for the Season. She is lovely. No reason to think she won’t do well for herself.”

Finding no place to discard the wadded clipping and feeling quite provoked by now, Chandler threw the small paper ball out the open window. He didn’t know why he was so obsessed with Miss Blair. She wasn’t the most beautiful young lady he’d ever seen, but she was the most intriguing, the most enchanting, and the most desirable.

Chandler didn’t care a damn about Lady Lambsbeth. He didn’t want to see her or talk to her and he certainly didn’t want his name linked to hers in the papers. There was only one lady on his mind. Miss Millicent Blair.

Just thinking of her calmed him. Her kisses had been untutored but responsive. She had been submissive in his arms, not because he demanded it, but because she welcomed his embrace. There was no better aphrodisiac than knowing this lady wanted his touch.

He had tempted many young ladies of the ton into kisses as passionate as those he had shared with Miss Blair in that shop, but none had touched the depths of his soul as she did. He felt restless and his desire to hold and kiss her again was intense.

“Damnation,” he muttered more to himself than to Fines.

“Obviously we didn’t get you out of the party soon enough. The only thing a gossipmonger needs to know is that you were seen attending the same party as Lady Lambsbeth and the scandal broth is heated to boiling. They don’t care that you didn’t actually see or speak to the lady in question. It doesn’t matter a whit in hell to them if it sells papers.”

Chandler didn’t comment, so Fines continued. “I found out today that Lady Lambsbeth moved back to London and has rented a town house—not far from yours, by the way. I have it on good authority that her husband is, indeed, dead this time. Some sort of carriage accident in Paris.”

“I don’t care if she’s widow or princess, or if she lives right next door to me. I have no desire or intention of renewing a relationship with her. And after our conversation last night, I don’t think Lady Lambsbeth will be seeking my attentions.”

“You didn’t,” Fines exclaimed and stepped closer to Chandler. “Good Lord, Dunraven, are the scandal sheets right? You did talk to her last night, didn’t you?”

“Only long enough to assure her I had no interest in her,” he admitted, wondering why he hadn’t completely ignored her and walked away without speaking to her.

“All you need is a second for someone to see her in your company.”

“I could have sworn that no one saw us but the Runner, who works for a Thief Taker named Doulton.”

“A Runner? Good lord, Dunraven. Did you take leave of your senses? It only takes one person to catch you with her, or God forbid—do you think he could have overheard what you said? Either way, no doubt the Runner made a tidy sum last night tattling on you.” Fines paused, then asked, “What exactly did you say to her?”

Chandler’s gaze strayed to the door again, looking for Miss Blair. “Exactly what I told you, not that any of it is your concern or the ton’s business. I don’t intend to pick up where we left off, and she should find some other lackwit to keep her bed warm.”

Miss Pennington, Miss Bardwell, and Miss Donaldson passed in front of them, walking very slowly. Both gentlemen nodded and bowed. Miss Bardwell winked, but Chandler had no idea if the flirtation was intended for him or Fines. Miss Pennington openly smiled, showing why her beauty made her the belle of the debutantes this Season, and shy-acting Miss Donaldson hid most of her face behind a lacy fan.

When he was certain the ladies were out of earshot, Fines picked up the conversation where they had left off by saying, “What you need is a new mistress.”

Not that again.

The thought of securing a mistress had no more appeal to Chandler than renewing a relationship with Lady Lambsbeth or starting one with Miss Bardwell.

“Once you get the right mistress settled into your life, Lady Lambsbeth will never cross your mind again.”

“She doesn’t cross my mind now unless you mention her,” Chandler complained.

The only lady on his mind was Miss Blair, and he must be blessed for she was walking in to the ballroom on the arm of Viscount Heathecoute. He hadn’t gotten the feel of her out of his mind or the taste of her from his lips. She was an extraordinary lady to have held his attention so long.

He had to find a way to see her again—alone, as he had today. He wanted to sweep her out into the darkness and ravish her until she begged him to show her fully how a man loves a woman.

Sir Charles Wright was the first gentleman to her side. She gave him her hand for an appropriate kiss and curtsy, then smiled at him. A few moments later he signed her dance card. As he walked away, the too-tall and too-thin Viscount Tolby approached her. He stood right in front of her and completely blocked her from Chandler’s view.

Chandler was not accustomed to that uncontrollable knot in his chest that made him want to charge over to her and demand she accept the attention of no suitor but him.

“Are you listening to me?” Fines asked.

Chandler swallowed past a dry throat. Had he finally been smitten with love after all these years? No, that couldn’t be. But for some reason, she affected him differently from all the other ladies who’d caught his eye.

“Sorry, old chap, I didn’t hear what you had to say. What was that?”

“You’ve been doing a lot of woolgathering lately, Dunraven. Are you feeling all right?”

“I’ve never felt better. I was just giving serious consideration to your idea of a new mistress.”

Fines gave him a pleased look. “Good. At last we’re getting somewhere. Excellent to hear. I’ll start asking around for you.”

“Fines,” Chandler said in a warning tone, “I can find my own mistress, if you don’t mind.”

“No.” Fines sniffed loudly. “No. I don’t mind at all, but I did hear that—”

“Will you excuse me?” Chandler interrupted. “I see someone I’d like to talk to.”

“Who? I’ll walk with you.” Fines stared in the direction Chandler was looking.

“You know, I don’t mind you joining me, but I think you should know I just saw Miss Pennington walk over to the refreshment table alone.”

“Really?” Fines pulled on the hem of his waistcoat and sniffed again. “Miss Pennington having to get her own cup of punch? Perhaps she’d like someone to help her.”

“That’s probably why she walked over alone.”

Fines smiled at Chandler. “I think I should go over and speak to her.”

“And ask her to dance?”

Fines smiled. “I’m already on the card. Do you suppose there’s room for another name?”

“Doubtful. She’s been here almost an hour. You’d better hurry. I see Viscount Tolby heading her way.”

“I’m off. Should we make plans for breakfast at White’s?” Fines asked walking backward.

“Don’t plan on me. I have some things to check on tomorrow.”

Fines nodded and turned around and was swallowed by the crowd. Chandler talked to several friends, some acquaintances and even had a dance or two before he finally managed to find himself face-to-face with Miss Millicent Blair. She stood with Lord Heathecoute and his lady.

Chandler joined the group but had eyes for no one but Miss Blair. Her buff-white evening gown had three pale pink flounces, and a pink satin ribbon banded the high waist. The round neck was cut low, showing more of her beautiful breasts than he wanted other men to see. He noticed the pearl-drop earrings she wore and remembered taking her dainty lobe into his mouth.

Greetings were quickly dispensed with, and it took only a moment to know that Miss Blair was distancing herself from him fast. Her curtsy was stiff; she wouldn’t look him in the eye and she almost jerked her hand away from his after the perfunctory kiss on the back of her palm.

“Lord Dunraven, a pleasure to see you this evening,” the Viscount said.

“It’s Millicent’s first evening here at Almack’s,” Lady Heathecoute said. “We were so delighted to get the invitation for her to attend.”

“I can’t imagine anyone you suggest would be denied entrance, Viscountess.”

“So kind of you to say, my lord.”

Chandler turned to Miss Blair. “Welcome,” he said and bowed again. “I hope your first evening here meets with your expectations.”

“On all accounts, sir. I’m happy to be here and I’m enjoying myself.”

“Millicent knows it is not the building that makes Almack’s the place to be seen in Town on Wednesdays. It is the people who frequent it that makes it the most important addition to her first Season in London.”

“Of course, you’re right,” Millicent added. “And I do appreciate all you and Lady Beatrice have done in obtaining the invitation for me.”

“I hear you are helping with the search for the Mad Ton Thief,” the viscount said to Chandler, clearly bored with the direction the conversation had taken.

“It’s more that I insist on staying well-informed of the progress that is being made by those on Bow Street and the authorities.”

Lord Heathecoute lifted his chin a little higher, making his sharp nose appear to be pointing straight up. “I heard they have been going door to door, questioning everyone like common criminals. It’s reprehensible the way they are treating all of us as if we are suspects.”

“You forget, Heathecoute, one among us is a criminal, and they are only doing their jobs.”

The viscount continued to demand Chandler’s attention when all he wanted to do was talk to Miss Blair and find out what was wrong with her.

At last he was able to turn to Millicent and say, “May I have a dance, Miss Blair?”

She refused to let her gaze meet his but softly answered, “Yes.”

Chandler looked up to her ladyship and said, “There is a waltz coming up. Has she been cleared to dance it?”

“My, yes. We’ve been most select in our care of Millicent, and she has been afforded all the opportunities as if this was her coming-out Season.”

Millicent lifted her hand and he took hold of her card and signed his name. Afterward, he took a quick moment to turn it over. The back was blank. But of course it would be, he told himself. He had settled for himself last evening that she was not involved with the Mad Ton Thief. She was merely writing down names and facts about people in order to better remember them. Names and titles could be confusing to anyone new to Town.

When he was finished, he bowed and said, “I shall return at the appropriate time and claim your hand.”

“Can you believe it?” Lady Heathecoute said to her husband in as hushed a voice as Millicent had ever heard her speak. “I do believe Lord Dunraven is smitten with her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the viscount answered, surveying the dance floor. “He’s never been smitten with anyone in his life, and it’s not likely that he will be with her.”

“She is lovely. And this is the second time he has sought her out and asked her to dance.”

Lord Heathecoute sniffed loudly. “What of it? It’s the third time Sir Charles Wright has asked her.”

“Sir Charles Wright tries to dance every dance no matter who the young lady is. Lord Dunraven does not. Even given his reputation, he’s very choosy.”

“Maybe she has caught his fancy for now, but I’m sure that will soon fade. It always does with him. Don’t worry. I’m certain the earl has no intentions of being leg shackled anytime in the near future. He’s having too grand a life to settle down to the country with a wife and family.”

While the Heathecoutes talked about her as if she weren’t present, Millicent tuned them out and turned away. She was glad she hadn’t told them that Lord Dunraven had asked to call on her several times and she’d refused him. It was best she kept that information for her aunt alone.

If Aunt Beatrice had reason to suspect the viscount and viscountess wanted to take over the column, Millicent should be careful and not discuss anything of importance with them until she had cleared it with her aunt.

She couldn’t deny that Lord Dunraven appeared to be smitten with her, but no doubt it was only temporary. And that was dangerous, since even knowing that, she kept finding herself in his arms. It was time for Millicent to be honest with her aunt and talk to her about Lord Dunraven.

This afternoon she had been a mere glimpse away from her mother’s ill fate of being tossed out of London like dirty baggage. She couldn’t explain it, she only knew she simply had no will when it came to the earl.

Angels above! If she would let him kiss her in a draper’s shop, she could clearly not be trusted in his presence anywhere else in London.

She could not allow herself to become any more enamored of him than she already was, and she must never be alone with him again. But telling herself that didn’t keep the minutes from seeming like hours until he came to claim his dance with her.

It was easy to scold herself and be firm as long as she wasn’t looking into his heavenly blue eyes, as long as he wasn’t caressing her with his mesmerizing gaze, or teasing her with delightful words.

Millicent had seen him several times throughout the evening, but never so closely as when he started walking toward her with that confident stride of a wealthy, titled gentleman. He was devilishly handsome with his hair brushed stylishly away from his face and his neckcloth beautifully tied. His brocade waistcoat and cutaway coat hid most of his crisp white shirt, but she didn’t miss the small trim of lace at his sleeves.

Millicent felt a sharp prick to her heart as she thought of the viscount’s words. For indeed the man striding toward her had the look of a man who had no intention of settling down to one lady. All the more reason for Millicent to seek the advice of her aunt as to how to rid herself of Lord Dunraven’s attentions once and for all.

She took a deep breath to fortify herself as he walked with her toward the dance floor with the ease of a man who has had many years of practice.

Oh, he was so good at being bad.

“I’ve been waiting for a dance with you all evening.”

“I would wager you’ve said that to all the ladies you’ve had a promenade with this evening.”

He looked at her curiously. “What makes you say that?”

She lifted her eyebrows as if to question him. “Could it be your reputation of knowing just how to charm young ladies into thinking you are madly in love with them, but only calling on them once or twice?”

“So, we’re back to that. I fear my reputation will always be between us.”

“Something has to be. I need armor, Lord Dunraven, when it comes to you, for my will alone doesn’t work.”

There was a contrite lift to the corners of his mouth. “I thought I was the one who was in need of help from your charms.”

The threat of a smile fluttered at the corners of her lips. She didn’t want to be bewitched by him tonight. “You jest, my lord, and I am serious.”

“Don’t be serious. Not tonight. Let’s enjoy the dance, the evening. It must have been wonderful at the Dovershafts for you to have been there so long this evening.”

“It wasn’t that we tarried. We had a late start to the evening.”

The music started and he took hold of her hand and firmly placed his other hand, open palm, to the lower part of her back. He felt her warmth even through his gloves and her clothing, and it soothed his temper. In one long, fluid step he guided her backward, which led her sweeping into the box step. She faltered once, but he easily covered for her mistake. Something was wrong with her. She usually danced as if she had air between her feet and the floor.

“You seem a bit stiff this evening, Miss Blair.”

Without looking at him she answered, “Perhaps that is because I have come to my senses.”

“Did you lose them?”

“Dreadfully so.”

“We shared a few kisses.”

No, it was more than kisses.

“That is all, Millicent. There was no harm done to your reputation.”

Millicent wasn’t so sure it was only her reputation that she worried about. She now feared her heart was also in danger of being lost to Lord Dunraven.

His impassive attitude caused her to look him in the eye. “I suppose I’m not shocked you take such a cavalier attitude to such inappropriate behavior.”

“I don’t look at what happened between us that way.”

His fingers constantly moved over her gloved hand, rubbing, caressing. It was as if he couldn’t get enough of touching her.

“That is because you are a scoundrel, sir. You have done such things on many occasions with many different ladies. It is as natural to you as breathing.”

“And that was established before our intimacy this afternoon.”

“You would not have been shamed out of Town had we been caught, but I would have.”

“Millicent, look at me.” When she met his eyes, he continued. “I wouldn’t have let that happen. When as a gentleman I take a risk, I’m fully prepared to accept any consequences that might arise from my actions. You must trust me on this.”

“Your eyes and your expression are so genuine for a moment I could almost believe you. But I can’t. To how many young ladies have you said the same thing?”

“Not as many as you think. You don’t know how badly I want to pull you into my arms and kiss you again, Miss Blair.”

She looked over his shoulder past him again and said, “I must admit that I am not sorry that we kissed yesterday or today.”

“Or the way we kissed so thoroughly?”

Her gaze met his and, for a moment, he thought he saw a hint of a smile on her face. “That’s correct. I found it most pleasurable.”

“I wonder if you could possibly know how saying things like that affect me? I’m not even sure I’m still following the steps of the waltz. I’m pleased you are not overwrought by what happened between us.”

“There will be no shame between us. Not now. It’s too late for that.”

“Not ever. May I call on you tomorrow?”

“No, sir, you may not.”

“Miss Blair, you are driving me mad. After what you just told me how can you still deny me? It’s clear you don’t find me offensive. Why won’t you allow me to call on you?”

Millicent’s loyalty to her aunt forced her to remain unbending and say, “I am not here in London to be trifled with, Lord Dunraven.”

“I hear it in your voice and see in your eyes that you are serious. Trifling is not my intention, Millicent.”

“Your reputation says otherwise, and please don’t call me by my given name.”

“After this afternoon, I don’t think it would be appropriate for me to continue to call you Miss Blair.”

“You must.”

“Why?”

“I’m only here for a few months and then I will go back home. You must stay away from me.”

Chandler knew the dance was approaching the end. He would have to return her to the viscountess. “Did you not come to Town looking to make a match?”

“No. I came to help—” She stopped. “I came to see London, to have a Season and enjoy the parties.”

Chandler could have sworn that she started to say something different or something more. But what?

“That is all?”

“Yes. And even if I were seriously looking to make a match, you wouldn’t suit.”

That was plain speaking indeed, not that he thought for a moment he wanted to marry her. He just wanted to be with her, and touch her, and hold her, and kiss her.

“What makes me unacceptable?” he asked.

A faraway look came to her eyes and her face softened beautifully. “My mother had her coming out Season in London over twenty years ago and she—and I wanted to have a Season, too. That is all I can say.”

He was certain now that she wanted to tell him more but wasn’t ready to confide in him. If he didn’t push her anymore tonight maybe in time she would tell him everything. “And whom did she marry?”

“My father.”

He laughed and twirled her around as the dance ended. He bowed. “You delight me, Millicent. How can I give you up?”

She curtsied. “Do not pursue me, Lord Dunraven.”

He took her hand and started walking her back to her chaperone. “I will not be denied, lovely lady. If I can’t call on you openly, I will have to see you in secret—again.”