Scandal's Daughters

Chapter 1

Lady Felicity Drake, eldest daughter of the Earl of Penworth, rapped her knuckles along the carved armchair, calling for silence. A veritable cacophony filled the room as five, yes five, young women’s voices reached deafening proportions. The general din of her sisters in full argument volleying off the ceiling and windows was enough to give anyone else pause, but Felicity was quite accustomed to the sound.

She rapped her knuckles again, “Quiet, please!”

Even with her urging, it took several moments for them to cease and as everyone dimmed in their various contributions, her youngest sister, Augusta, grumbled, “It’s not even our fault we’re in a scandal,” before folding her arms and grudgingly listening.

Felicity didn’t bother replying to Gus, since her younger sister had pointed out the obvious. “I call this first meeting of the Scandalous Daughters Society to order.”

The sisters Drake had all been given a good deal of trouble in the past year and such trouble had taken its toll. Truth be told, several months had passed before they had all finally come to realize that their situation needed to be taken in hand.

So, now in their country seat where they had been virtually banished, they were discussing how best to find a footing back into the society which had so ardently (and dare be said, gleefully) tossed them aside.

Well, what could they expect when one’s father had to flee the country for buggery?

Yes. Buggery.

Felicity was not afraid of the word but society whispered it as though it were the most appalling of sins.

Their father’s wife, not their mother, had become appalled by the poet’s ongoing scandalous behavior and had brought forth charges against her own husband for his shocking bedroom proclivities with her person.

Since buggery was a crime and a hanging offense, the earl had had no choice but to run.

And expose the family to gossip of the very worst sort.

Gossip which made the marriage mart a near impossibility.

And loathe them or love them, marriage marts were essential for a young woman to find any sort of meaningful place in the world.

Now, the girls were fairly wealthy due to the moneys their father’s new (and shocked) wife had brought to the marriage (their father had had sizable debts, necessitating a lucrative match), but they were sans character. And sans character, they were in serious societal trouble. For the English were very concerned about bloodlines. Much like their horses and their hounds, wives needed to breed often and breed well.

The Penworth bloodline seemed to run hot. Very hot, indeed. Some might say too hot for the cold-blooded English.

Her new mother, the Countess Lady Anne Penworth, blamed their Italian grandmother.

In Felicity’s opinion the English had a dratted habit of blaming the Italians for anything that went amiss. Or the French.

And if truth be known, they also had a French great-grandmother.

The Drake girls were awash in passionate bloodlines.

She drew in a slow breath, being the calmest of the lot, and surveyed Augusta, Penelope, Marianne, and Georgiana. They were all pleasing; two with dark hair, two with flaming red tresses and they all had slightly dusky complexions. . . A gift from their Italian grandmother. But they were all, well, odd.

Their father had not found it necessary to raise them or educate them as other English girls.

They’d never had a nanny or a governess.

In fact, one could claim the Drake girls had run wild.

Now, that wildness, once so enjoyed by all of them, was a serious hindrance. The English didn’t like wild in their women.

“Look Felicity,” said Augusta, Gus to anyone she liked, and the youngest. “This is all nonsense. We needn’t marry. We needn’t give in. Why don’t we all just live here in solidarity and tell the world to sod off?”

Felicity resisted the urge to cover her eyes with her hands. Gus was quite a bluestocking, well they all were in their own ways, but Gus was the most rebellious. The most outrageous. “If you don’t way to marry Gus, you don’t have to. But the rest of us would like husbands and children.”

Gus blinked her shockingly blue eyes. “Why?”

Penelope laughed, her dark curls bouncing. “I for one, don’t plan on sleeping alone for the rest of my life, you know.”

“And I quite liked society, the balls and all that,” admitted Marianne. “Can’t have that, banished up here in Yorkshire. You might like striding about the moors, Gus, but all that wind whipping and wailing by the rocks, isn’t for me.”

Gus scowled. “I don’t wail.”

Felicity rolled her eyes. “My dear sisters, you miss the point entirely. We must find some sort of footing in society or we face growing mold here in this old house, or we might as well all join Papa in Venice.”

All of her sisters gave a visible shudder.

It wasn’t that their father, Victor Drake, Earl of Penworth, was a terrible man. Quite the opposite. He was capable of noble acts. But he was also a drunkard and given to shouting and bringing women home at all hours.

Up until one year ago, he’d been the most celebrated and feted poet in London. Then it had all gone horribly wrong.

Frankly, Felicity couldn’t blame Lady Anne, the countess, for throwing their father to the wolves.

He never should have married such a mouse of a woman. But she’d had the money he needed and he’d been desperate.

Poor Anne.

Poor them!

Felicity cleared her throat. “As much as I’d like to believe we could reenter society entirely on our own, I know this would be impossible. We’re perilously close to being social pariahs. We need backing. We need support.”

“We need a swift kick in the bum and a realization that society is the devil,” intoned Gus.

“Yes, thank you Augusta,” replied Felicity, her fingers itching to strangle her sister. “But as discussed before, we have made a pact that we will all find husbands—“

“Or lovers,” chirped Augusta, clearly loving her role as troublemaker.

“Not lovers!” shouted Penelope, her brow furrowing. “That would make matters worse for all of us!”

Felicity threw up her hands. “We will all make advantageous marriages which will ultimately give us freedom. Being a spinster is not very freeing. You know this Augusta.”

“Perhaps, but I’m not going to beg some proper man to save me,” Augusta protested.

Felicity sighed. Had she ever been that young? At twenty-two, she felt ancient which, of course, she wasn’t but she was a good deal more mature than Augusta’s eighteen years. “None of us are going to beg. But we will use any means necessary.”

“Including entrapment,” piped Georgiana with a dangerous glimmer in her eyes.

Felicity shifted uncomfortably on her chair. She didn’t particularly care for the idea of entrapment but she wasn’t going to tell her sister no. They were in dire straits.

“Hopefully, it won’t come to that,” she hedged, “but in the meantime, I have sought out help.”

“Help?” queried Marianne.

“Who would help us?” demanded Georgiana, who had been the closest to their father and the most inclined to follow in his poetic footsteps though, at present, she was quiet about it.

Felicity knew George was the most resentful of their father’s flight.

Felicity stood and strode slowly over to the door which led into a small, adjoining room. Taking her courage in hand, she opened it. “Sisters, Lady Melbourne, The Viscountess of Ashbury.”

The girls grew immediately quiet.

Lady Melbourne strolled into the room.

Her golden turban, adorned with peacock feathers, glinted in the otherwise dreary house. Her gown, rich sea green, shone with expense, and her beautiful ivory skin seemed to glow despite her advanced years.

Quite simply, Lady Melbourne was one of the most powerful women in society and she was a great admirer of their father. . . She was also Lady Anne’s aunt.

She strode in, her cane gripped firmly in one beautifully smooth hand.

Years ago, she’d been wounded in a wild riding accident and had never been able to walk unsupported since.

Imperious as a queen, she strode to the fireplace, pulled on the bell pull and quietly waited.

Ambrose, their butler, entered followed by a footman. Each carried a large silver tray with buckets of champagne and caviar.

The girls all gaped.

Such fare had been unavailable to them since their father’s departure and Lady Anne’s defection to her mother.

The money which was theirs upon marriage was untouchable and so they had been living in genteel poverty these last months.

As Ambrose poured out six glasses, Lady Melbourne arched a silvery-blonde brow.

“Dear girls,” she drawled. “You have all been cast down by a family member of mine, not entirely through her own fault, but by her firm conviction she could change your father. Your father is a bastard. An absolute bastard. But a glorious bastard. He is a god among men and I find I cannot allow you all to suffer because he cannot act as mortals must. So, I will take you in hand and marry you all off, ensuring your position in society.”

Gus folded her arms across her pert bosom while Marianne, Georgiana, and Penelope grinned.

Felicity felt a wave of relief.

She’d written to Lady Melbourne two weeks ago asking for advice.

Within a week, she’d received a message delivered by a liveried footman.

Lady Melbourne was coming and she was coming with a plan.

Ambrose and the footman passed out the glasses.

Lady Melbourne raised hers. “It shall not be easy and you must do exactly as I say. But despite your reputations, I promise that by the end of the Season, you each will have found a husband, and you will all be ensconced as leaders of the ton. What say you?”

“Huzzah!” said Penelope.

“Yes, General,” replied Georgiana with a mock salute which led to a laugh from Lady Melbourne.

Marianne nodded enthusiastically.

Gus narrowed her eyes. “I’m not marrying some boring old toff.”

Lady Melbourne raked her eyes up and down Gus then pronounced, “Dear girl, no boring old toff would have you, impertinent thing that you are.”

Gus blushed.

Felicity bit back a laugh.

She loved her younger sister but it was nice to see someone who wouldn’t put up with her unabashed silliness.

“And you, Felicity?” Lady Melbourne asked. “You’ve organized your little Scandalous Daughters Society. What do you say?”

She lifted her own glass and smiled, “When do we start?”