Scandal's Daughters

Chapter 4

William sat at the breakfast table, cup of coffee in one hand, news sheet in the other when the gaggle of his sisters descended in female crescendo.

Elizabeth, the youngest, skipped into the breakfast room and delivered a quick kiss to his cheek, which he happily leaned down for while keeping his eyes on the article discussing the state of affairs in France.

Mary, who was having her first Season, entered with more decorum than Elizabeth or even Jane who had already plunked herself into a seat and plucked two slices of toast for her plate.

But as Mary sat, he felt her stare.

Mary was an intelligent young lady. He adored all his sisters. They were all too clever for his good and he often wished their father was still alive so that he might be the one to usher them into the travails of this world.

But no.

And Mary, who saw him entirely as a brother, no father figure insight, started to laugh, a delightful, sound.

He wasn’t delighted.

He knew why she was laughing.

He might have come directly home from the ball last night, leaving their mother to escort them home, but he knew that word of his situation had, no doubt, spread like wildfire through the ball.

He lowered his paper. “Yes, Mary? Do you have something to contribute?”

Elizabeth chimed in a singsong voice, “William’s getting married.”

“Is it true?” Mary asked.

“Is what true?” he returned, flicking his paper straight.

“That you’ve been caught!” exclaimed Jane between mouthfuls of toast.

“Me?” William intoned. “Caught? Never.”

“But you don’t even know her!” pointed out Elizabeth, who was far too wise for a girl of nine years. “You must have been caught.”

“Do you even know what that means, Elizabeth?” William asked.

“Well, it sounds very much like fishing.” Elizabeth spread marmalade on her toast. “The lady uses bait to catch the unsuspecting fellow. Then he is caught and she reels him in, no escape. And then she eats him.”

He choked on his coffee. “How very succinct.”

Elizabeth grinned a gamine grin, her chocolate eyes sparkling. “Thank you.”

He sometimes feared for whatever fellow would marry Elizabeth. She was at once an utter charmer and a terror. He, of course, adored her with every last bit of his being. He adored all of them.

When he’d said that to Lady Felicity, he’d meant it.

“Well?” asked Jane as she took three slices of rashers.

He folded the paper. Here it was. The moment. “I haven’t been caught. I’ve sacrificed myself.”

Mary blinked then wrinkled her slightly freckled nose. “Oh, that sounds terrible.”

“Poor thing, this girl,” sighed Elizabeth with great drama.

“Why poor her?” demanded William. “I’m the one who is sacrificing.”

“And that’s it!” exclaimed Mary. “If you’d been caught she’d be quite clever, but one must feel sorry for her if you’re just doing the right thing.”

He frowned. “I confess, I haven’t given it any thought.”

“You should,” said Mary before she sipped her tea. “There’s something romantic about a fellow, especially a notorious rake like you, being caught. The lady can feel it and she is seen as quite triumphant. But you being all noble and putting your neck in the noose makes her seem a sorry sort, indeed.”

He scowled. “She’d be far sorrier if I left her to the tender mercies of Lord Trumbold.”

Mary shuddered. “Horrible old man.”

“You know him?” he asked, suddenly alert.

“All the young ladies know him,” Mary replied. “He’s notorious.”

“He’s an arse,” William said without thought.

“Now William,” his mother chastised as she breezed in, her purple gown her only relief from a mourning that had been going on for three years. “You mustn’t say such things in front of your sisters.”

“Even when they’re true,” quipped Mary.

Their mother, Lady Marksborough, sat and poured herself a cup of tea. “Especially when it’s true. Being a gentlewoman is often the art of concealing one’s true feelings.”

Jane frowned. “I don’t think I’ll make a very good gentle woman.”

“Glad I am to hear it,” said William. “I should hate to think you’d turn into one of those. . . Sheep.”

“What a thing to say, William,” his mother castigated. “Ladies must act with decorum. With propriety. They mustn’t be reproached.”

“Baaaaaaaah.” He replied.

His mother frowned. “Are you truly going to marry that Drake girl?”

“I said I would.”

His mother sniffed. “She’s a scandal. Bad blood. Her father’s mad. Couldn’t you retract? Think of your sisters.”

William put his paper down. “I said I would in front of several important women. There’s no going back.”

“I could murder Lady Flanders,” his mother huffed.

“I think there is a very long line waiting to do that honor,” Mary put in. “And I’m glad William’s going to marry Lady Felicity. Our family could use a bit of bad blood. We’re all terribly boring.”

“I’m not!” chirped Elizabeth who then turned to William. “Am I?”

“Never pet,” he soothed. “And Mary, I can’t be a notorious rake and boring. You shall have to pick.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean you,” Mary replied easily as she spread jam over her muffin. “I just meant the ladies in our family. Sheep all, as you say. We’re all fluffy and have nothing of interest to say.”

Jane snorted. “Speak for yourself.”

“I agree with Jane,” William said. “You’re far too hard on yourself. You’re not fluffy at all.”

Mary scowled and threw her muffin across the table.

He caught it and was rained on by a shower of buttered crumbs. “You see, not the action of a sheep and now Hobbs will have my guts for his mother’s garters. Jam stains on my waistcoat,” William teased.

His mother threw up her hands. “Why did it have to be a daughter of that man? If you form an alliance with that family it will be the ruin of us.”

“If I don’t it will ruin us,” he pointed out. “I’ve publicly offered. You know a gentleman can’t withdraw.”

“You think she’d sue for breach of promise?” whispered Jane as if it were the most scandalous thing in the world.

He considered Lady Felicity and the way she’d popped Lord Trumbold on the jaw then carried on as if she hadn’t stirred a curl. “No, I don’t. She’s not that kind of lady.”

He took another sip of coffee then folded his paper. “Still, one can’t leave her in a lurch.”

“What if the madness runs in the family?” his mother exclaimed.

“She’s not mad. Blazes, Penworth isn’t mad either. Just. . .”

His mother waited, her eyes narrowed. “Yes?”

“Well,” he at last replied, “he certainly isn’t a sheep.”

His mother huffed, “He’s a randy old ram that should be put down.”

“Madness or randy old ram,” countered William, “Lady Felicity is a lady of remarkable capability I’d say. . . And courage.”

“Courage?” Mary prompted.

William nodded. “To face society after all that fuss last year. That takes courage.”

“Lady Melbourne is a formidable member of the ton,” his mother pointed out. “None of us would gainsay her. If she said she wished a baboon invited to Almack’s, we would.”

“No baboons, thank goodness,” he said, pushing back from the table. “Now, I’m off.”

Elizabeth bounced on her chair. “May I accompany you?”

“No pet,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “But there will be plenty of time for you to meet her.”

“To think, my son forced to wed, over a bit of business in a dark corner,” his mother lamented. “The scandal. The shame.”

“We shall weather it, I think, Mother,” he drawled. “We survived Grandpapa’s fling with the Irish singer.”

His mother sniffed. “Yes. Well. That’s different.”

He didn’t bother to ask how. Sometimes the workings of his mother’s mind were a mystery, love her though he did. He’d often found she conveniently liked to forget facts when in an argument. It was rather endearing, really.

“When you see me again, I’ll know the date,” he said.

“You know,” Mary said with decided mischief. “You don’t look too put out about it.”

He stared at Mary. “You know, I don’t think I am. She’s quite something.”

“And beautiful,” supplied Mary.

“Yes,” he admitted.

But that wasn’t what made the day’s future appointment palatable. It was that he was going to have a conversation with Lady Felicity and she wasn’t going to be utterly predictable like every other woman he’d ever met.

And that was something to look forward to, indeed.