Scandal's Daughters

Chapter 3

Felicity eyed the absolutely beautiful man with deepening consideration. How could she get him to marry her? It was the very first thought that crossed her mind when she’d turned to him after laying Lord Trumbold low.

After all, she had to marry. Why not him?

Perhaps it was utterly foolish, but that was what her instinct had demanded the moment she’d set eyes on him.

My goodness! He was beautiful.

Dark hair framed a strong face, angular jaw, hawkish jetty eyes, and a complexion that indicated he spent a great deal of time outdoors.

He towered over her but she felt no fear in his presence.

Just as she was about to ask if he was married, a strange look crossed his face.

“I do think you should be going back,” he said. “Surely, you’ll be missed.”

Stymied, she nodded. She didn’t wish to trick him into marriage. Not this man. She wanted him of his own free will. Now, how to convince him?

Just as she strode forward, ready to thank him for being willing to come to her aid (though such a thing hadn’t been necessary) a hand reached out and grabbed her ankle.

She yelped and barreled forward.

He caught her in his beautiful strong arms just as Lord Trumbold let out another groan and flopped back to the floor.

Her heart raced as she was crushed to Lord Talbot.

She grimaced at the recollection of Lord Trumbold’s fleshy grip on her ankle.

“It’s all right,” Lord Talbot said softly, gazing down at her. “You’re safe with me.”

She leaned in against him, savoring the brief feeling of being safe. She knew it was an illusion. Women had to take care of themselves. Oh, they needed husbands, but they had to rely on themselves if they wished for a good life.

Still, it had shaken her, the way Lord Trumbold had grabbed her. Perhaps, the whole night had shaken her more than she wished to admit. She knew it would be difficult, reentering society. She’d known people would be cruel, but she hadn’t quite been prepared for the way some men had treated her, as if just by association with her whoremonger of a father, that she, too, was a whore.

But not this man.

This man hadn’t tried a thing. And he’d seemed to respect her.

Just as Lord Talbot gazed into her eyes searchingly, his hands gently clasping her back, the door suddenly opened.

A chorus of squeals of dismay mixed with salacious delight filled the room.

Lord Talbot’s hold tensed and she couldn’t bear to look. But the tittering gossip forced her to glance over her shoulder.

“Lady Felicity,” bellowed Lady Flanders, one of the most notorious ton gossips. “Whatever are you doing?”

“Being ruined!” chirped the lady behind her.

“Bad blood,” someone else said loudly.

Just at that moment, a loud moan came from the body on the floor.

“Murder,” screamed Lady Flanders so violently that her feathered hairpiece trembled.

“Not at all,” Lord Talbot said tersely. “Lord Trumbold fell ill. And we were seeing to his care.”

“Demmed hussy,” muttered Trumbold.

Talbot’s grip tightened on her shoulders and his whole face seemed to grow cold.

He gazed from her to Lord Trumbold’s sprawled form and then to the ladies in the doorway. A pained understanding dawned on his face.

“Lady Felicity,” cooed Lady Flanders. “Two gentlemen at your side. . . And in a quiet corner. My, my. It was a good thing you were here to aid Lord Trumbold. But whatever were you doing with these two gentlemen. Alone.”

“Madam, that is none of your business,” she bit out. Her throat tightened and she felt sick. Desperately, she glanced up at Lord Talbot.

She hadn’t wished to trap him. But suddenly, she was hoping beyond all measure he wouldn’t leave her to twist in the wind. If he did. . . She was well and truly ruined.

That would be that. Her life as she had hoped it would be would be over.

Suddenly, Lord Trumbold pushed himself up. “Demmed good of you Talbot.”

Lord Talbot narrowed his eyes. “I beg your pardon?”

“To catch my fiancée,” Trumbold slurred. “When she tripped. Silly miss.”

“Fiancée?” echoed Lady Flanders.

Felicity’s stomach twisted. This couldn’t be happening.

“Mmm.” Somehow, Lord Trumbold managed to swing himself up from the floor, his face a frightening red and purple. He placed a hand to his temple. “Agreed to marry me just now and then I became overheated and passed out. Talbot here passed by and came to our aid.”

A leering grin pulled at Trumbold’s face. “Many thanks Talbot, for assisting my darling girl.”

Lady Flanders laughed. “Oh, well then. . . As long as there are wedding bells in the future. Congratulations, Lady Felicity. You’ve certainly made an interesting and advantageous match.”

Bile crept up her throat. Oh God. She was going to have to marry Lord Trumbold. And if she did, she’d go down for murder. Because she’d have to kill the blighter before she let him put his fleshy paws on her again.

She glanced up at Lord Talbot, desperately wondering why he was so silent. No doubt, he was relieved. After all, with Trumbold’s proclamation he was free.

But anger had hardened his face.

Lord Talbot pulled her tighter to him and drawled, “I do believe you hit your head when you fell, Trumbold.”

“Did I?” Trumbold asked, his eyes turning to pinpricks of hatred.

“Yes,” Talbot declared. “For you see, the lady has agreed to marry me.”

Another gush of noise, only this time shock and titillation, went up from the crowd of ladies at the door.

“Two men claiming affiance, Lady Felicity,” said Lady Flanders with a hint of venom. “What a lucky girl.”

The words should have been complimentary but Lady Flanders said them through gritted teeth, no doubt because her own daughter was facing a third Season this year with no proposal in sight.

“I am very lucky,” Felicity said defiantly. All the while, her whole body tingled with disbelief and relief.

“I say now,” growled Trumbold as he grabbed hold of the settee before the fire and pulled himself up. “Steady on. She’s mine.”

“You were dreaming, my lord,” Talbot said tightly.

“Devil take it,” Trumbold roared. “She’s mine.”

The ladies at the door went very quiet and they all seemed to lean forward as one to hear unencumbered.

“If you don’t desist your absurd claim, you and I will be meeting at dawn, my lord.” Talbot allowed the threat to hang ominously in the air before asking, “Is that your wish?”

Trumbold immediately retracted, like a bullfrog whose belly suddenly deflates. “No. No meetings at dawn.”

“I didn’t think so. Now, Lady Felicity has had quite a shock. I must take her back to her chaperone.”

There was a snort from one of the ladies which seemed to suggest whoever Lady Felicity’s chaperone happened to be was absolutely ineffectual.

Somehow, Lord Marksborough, the Marquess of Talbot, strode with her in tow in such a fashion that the ladies parted quickly to allow them to depart.

Felicity rushed after him without looking back.

As they headed down the dark hall, she tugged on his hand. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

He stopped and whipped around. “Don’t thank me. I couldn’t let that man. . .”

Panic raced through her. He looked like a man who’d been hit in the head with a cricket bat. “But. . . You’ll marry me?”

To that, he said nothing. He merely stared down at her in the darkness. Then without another word, he turned and left her standing by herself in the lonely hall.