A Promising Little Scandal Read online

  If nothing else, he was one hell of a sparring partner when it came to voicing his opinion.

  Chapter Two

  Calliope sat at her dressing table in her chamber and doublechecked her appearance in the mirror. She turned her head one way and then the other, smiling at the light as it glinted off her diamond, teardrop earbobs. Her hair had been styled neatly on top of her head in an elegant chignon, thanks to her maid’s efforts, and the dark purple, satin gown she wore complimented the fiery tresses. Complete with elbow length white gloves and an outlandish yellow and plum ostrich plume fan, she decided that she was ready to tackle her first big, official event of the Season.

  She had heard that the invitations to the Langston Ball each year were quite coveted for their importance in opening the rest of London to the social whirl of the nobility. Calliope wished that all her sisters had been here to share in this glorious event, but she was grateful for at least one.

  However, as she descended the staircase and spied Isadora with her usual, stern expression, she couldn’t help but sigh inwardly. She would have had a marvelous time flirting had Olivia been at her side. As the two youngest Bevelstroke women, they had many similar interests, and while Livy had been reserved, Calliope more than made up for it with her boisterous temperament. Araminta would say that she was a bit too bold, but other than a slightly chastising look, she generally just rolled her eyes and said little.

  Isadora, on the other hand…

  She was just so severe, that it was difficult for anyone to approach her, fearing they would be shredded to ribbons by a sharp tongue. While Isadora could be sharp at times, she was a proper lady if there ever was one, and quite intelligent. This, Calliope knew, caused many men to give her a wide berth because she was not ashamed to prove her wit.

  In that respect, they were quite the same, for Calliope had never really cared for others’ opinions. It was why an excursion at the seaside village of Lyme Regis and digging for prehistoric fossils to make a name for herself as a female scientist was becoming more and more appealing.

  She might have even decided to leave for the seaside before the Langston Ball if there wasn’t one slight impediment…

  She clenched her fists and quickly shut that thought process down. If there was one individual she would not bring to mind this evening, it was that scandalous libertine. Viscount Blakely had been devoted in his pursuit of her for the past few months, ever since she had arrived in London with her sisters. However, it didn’t take long for her to discern his rakish ways. His bold assessment of her whenever they were in the same vicinity, and that sly twist to his lips was enough proof of his character, without even hearing a word of gossip. If he wasn’t good friends with Lord Somers, Araminta’s husband, she might have discounted him immediately, but proper manners insisted that she converse with him, but she vowed it would be only briefly.

  Calliope brought her attention to the present and paused before Isadora. She crossed her arms. “Could you at least try to smile? It looks as if you sucked on a ripe persimmon.”

  Isadora lifted a dark brow and pierced her with a tolerant look Calliope knew all too well. “How about you just get into the carriage?”

  Calliope merely rolled her eyes and headed outside.

  The night still carried a slight chill, although the days were starting to warm and become rather pleasant, if not for the usual English rain that soaked the green covered hills around them. Calliope much preferred the grandeur of town, although there was more refuse in her path from the crowded carriages and soot covered most everything in sight. She enjoyed the flickering flames of the gaslights lining the streets and the sound of the horses’ hooves clip-clopping on the cobblestones. She loved the shops on Bond Street and stopping by Gunther’s for a sweet ice. Although Hatchard’s wasn’t as preferrable, the bookshop was something Olivia would have preferred, it was nice to know that if she wanted to read, there was someplace available for the latest editions that were printed.

  The papers were another thing that Calliope appreciated. From the latest fashion plates on display in Paris, to the gossip spreading amongst the ton, she absorbed every word. Generally, by the time news had reached Marlington Hall in Canterbury when she’d been growing up, the excitement had already settled down and something else had taken its place.

  Now, here she was, in the midst of it all and having a grand time.

  It did make things appear rather ironic that she should be considering a coastal retreat that would remove her from the center of such activity. While she preferred to look at her time by the sea as a temporary opportunity until she returned to London, she did hope she might do so with a celebrated find in tow.

  Anticipation for that moment was pulsing through her veins, so that when the carriage pulled up in front of the stately townhouse, Calliope tapped her foot impatiently for the footman to open her door. She yearned to jump down to the ground on her own, but she managed to refrain. But as soon as she had touched solid ground, she was heading for the entrance.

  “Callie!” Isadora’s admonishing hiss came from behind her, but Calliope ignored it, and made haste. She was sailing above the clouds tonight, dreams coursing through her veins and there was nothing that could possibly mar her current happiness.

  Handing her wrap over to a waiting footman, Calliope pasted a bright smile on her face and waited for Isadora to join her in the receiving line. Her sister arrived with a rather pursed expression. “Do you find it necessary to act like a hoyden at all times?” she snapped. “You might have waited for me.” She pulled on her glove in agitation, although there was no danger of it slipping down her arm. Calliope angled her head to the side and studied Isadora for a moment. With her dark brown hair piled neatly on top of her head and her gray eyes flashing with irritation, she could easily take the men of the ton by storm if she wished. Even though she was considered ‘on the shelf’ at eight and twenty, there was a keen glint in Isa’s eyes that could be rather enticing.

  And gold truly was her color.

  Perhaps someday Isa might find someone who caused her heart to flutter, but it would have to be a special man, indeed.

  Not wishing to quarrel, Calliope took her sister’s hand. “I do apologize, Isa. I was just feeling the need to loosen my inhibitions for a moment,” she teased, but her sister didn’t share in the jest, although she did relent slightly.

  “Well, do try to comport yourself more properly this evening,” she chided. “If you can manage it.”

  “I shall do my upmost to cater to your delicate sensibilities, dear sister,” Calliope said with a smirk, and as she turned around to greet her host and hostess of the evening, she thought she heard a slight snort behind her.

  “This is torture. No, I take that back. I daresay it’s worse. I should rather be on the rack.”

  Lord Blakely turned to Remington Fletcher, the Marquess of Osgood, with a grin. “Come now, Rem. Just look at the sea of delights around us—” He waved a dramatic hand to indicate a gaggle of debutantes giggling over their fans and looking like a bevy of vultures prepared to peck at the pair of them like a fleshy carcass. “Surely there can be nothing more appealing than that.”

  The marquess looked at him as if he’d taken leave of his senses. But then his broad grin must have registered. His companion gave a snort. “Trust me, as dangerous as it is to oversee the construction of a railway, it is less treacherous than being in the middle of a society ballroom during the height of the Season.” He sighed heavily. “Alas, my niece failed to procure a husband over the holidays, so I am forced to endure such ridiculousness for my mother’s sake. She has retired to Bath to take the waters, leaving me to escort Portia about the city when I would much rather be in the country riding the stallion I recently acquired from Grey.”

  Sebastian threw back his head and laughed. “Yes, Grey did mention that you’d managed to select one of his finest mounts due to some sort of wager.”

  “His loss turned out to be my gain,” Remington said wit
hout a touch of guilt. “He asked me to distract Lady Isadora while he courted her sister and so I did.”

  “Yes,” Seb murmured with a slight narrowing of his eyes. “I imagine it was quite the hardship for you. I noticed the way you looked at the eldest Bevelstroke gel.”

  Rem crossed his arms and lifted a russet-colored brow. “Oh? And how was that?”

  He didn’t even miss a beat. “Like you had just discovered a rare gemstone.”

  His companion rolled his eyes, but Seb also noticed that he didn’t deny the claim either. Suddenly, something caught his attention, his hazel eyes fixated on the ballroom entrance.

  Sebastian turned around and realized what was so enthralling. He would be lying if he wasn’t as captivated by the younger of the two unmarried Bevelstroke sisters. He had long been a champion for women with red hair and Calliope had the most brilliant locks he had ever beheld. The problem was that she was generally inclined to avoid him.

  He pulled the cuffs of his jacket down and decided that this was the night his luck was about to change. He would make sure of it.

  But when he made a move forward, there was a restraining hand on his coat. “Don’t say that you’re leaving me here all alone?”

  Seb’s mouth twisted wryly. “Are you scared, Osgood?”

  “Yes, dammit!” Rem huffed in irritation. “Haven’t you heard of the phrase defendit numerus? There is safety in numbers, man! If you depart, I shall be surrounded by matchmaking mothers and their tiresome offspring.”

  Sebastian patted his hand. “There, there. The bad people will go away soon enough. Just keep chanting, ‘Get thee behind me, Satan!’ and all will be well.”

  He walked away and grinned when there was a decided curse that followed in his wake. Sebastian didn’t slow his progress, because he had bigger fish to fry.

  But then perhaps that wasn’t quite the expression he should use.

  Larger game afoot? Yes, that didn’t sound quite as uncomfortable, and when it came to Lady Calliope, he wanted to ensure her full satisfaction.

  His grin widened even further as he spied his quarry and closed the distance between them.

  Calliope had just descended the steps into the ballroom with her sister when a towering figure slid into her path. With a gallant bow, Lord Blakely rose to offer her a heated look she was more than familiar with. Those deep, brown eyes, combined with his light hair, made a striking combination. It made her hot and cold all at once. But she would rather die than acknowledge how much he affected her.

  Adopting a careless expression, she feigned a yawn and was rewarded with the flash of mirth in his gaze. “Lord Blakely. What a… pleasant surprise to see you here.”

  “I’m sure it is,” he returned with a husky timbre to his voice that made gooseflesh break out on the skin between her gloves and cap sleeves. She crossed her arms in an effort to hide the effect, but something told her she wasn’t successful. “Would you care to stand up with me for the next set?”

  Drat. Irritation shot through Calliope. To ignore a man’s offer to dance this early in the evening would ensure that she couldn’t feign fatigue or a megrim if she wished to enjoy the rest of the night. But perhaps she wouldn’t have to contend with the viscount’s presence for long if she humored him just this once.

  “Of course, my lord. I should be delighted.” She put her hand lightly on his arm and bestowed her most winning smile on him, the one that Araminta had always told her melted their father’s heart when she’d been younger. She was pleased to see that the effect hadn’t worn off over the years, as it took Lord Blakely a moment to gather himself before he enveloped her hand with his and led her forward.

  “You don’t seem pleased that I accepted,” she noted, as they got into place for a quadrille.

  “On the contrary,” he countered with a sly grin that was entirely too charming when it came to ensuring that her lungs were working properly. “I was merely taken aback. Most of the time you refuse me.”

  She shrugged. “I decided it’s time we end this ridiculous charade. Don’t you agree?”

  His expression turned wary. “I’m not quite sure what you mean.”

  “Oh, come now, Lord Blakely,” she chided gently, and then the dance forced them apart. It wasn’t until they came back together that she said in an aside to him, “We both know this little tete-a-tete will go no further between us, so why act as though there is a chance for more?”

  He blinked. “I—”

  “In fact,” she continued, as if he hadn’t even attempted to speak. “While I do appreciate your attention and kind regard, I fear that I am quite over the prospect of marriage, as it will not let me enjoy the adventures that I hope to have in the near future.”

  He frowned. “And what is that?”

  Again, they were forced apart, and although Calliope was quite content with the conversation, it appeared that the furrow between the viscount’s eyes was becoming more pronounced each time they returned together. “I have decided, that in my first step toward becoming an independent woman of means, I shall travel to Lyme Regis and search for ancient bon—fossils.”

  She waited for him to be impressed, or encourage her interests, but he did the unthinkable and laughed. Quite heartily. To the point that a few curious glances were shot their way. This time it was Calliope who frowned. “Don’t say that you are under the antiquated notion that women can’t—”

  He waved a hand. “Not at all. I believe that some women might pursue such a vocation and succeed rather admirably. I do, however, believe that you are not one of them.”

  Calliope nearly stamped her foot. “And why not? I am more than capable of—”

  “I am not denying your abilities in certain things, my lady.” When they separated this time, it was Calliope who was eager to return to his side. Once they reunited, he said, “I am merely stating that when it comes to digging up forgotten prehistoric bones, I can’t imagine you will be entertained for long. The task just doesn’t suit you.”

  She snorted. “I’m relieved that you are so familiar with my character, my lord, that you should caution me over something that sounds perfectly interesting.”

  He shrugged. “At least I speak the truth, and I’m saying that vocation just doesn’t suit you.”

  “Oh?” She lifted a brow. “Then, what, pray tell, might you suggest? Embroidery? Becoming a forgotten wife in the countryside with a brood of children, perhaps?” She fluttered her lashes.

  He laughed. “Your cynicism never ceases to amaze me considering you have likely not seen much of the world beyond the windowpane in your bedchamber, or through the pages of the books in your father’s estate library.”

  Calliope was so stunned that she couldn’t move, not to mention speak to defend herself, so it was a good thing that the dance had nearly concluded.

  “But when it comes to what I think you’re suited for, my lady.” He moved closer to her as the music ended. Her pulse reluctantly sped up, and she could practically feel the heat emanating from him. “I could name several things that would be infinitely more desirable than digging in the sand on some desolate piece of land on the coast.”

  It was when he reached out and touched the bare skin of her arm that she broke out of her trance and stepped back from him. “Then it’s a good thing I shall be leaving London sooner rather than later.”

  She turned on her heel and departed, grateful with every step that put some much-needed space between them.

  Chapter Three

  Calliope was careful not to be on the same side of the ballroom as Lord Blakely after that, and she made sure to accept every offer to dance from other gentlemen even if her poor feet might regret it in the morning. But she refused to have another chance for him to mar her spirits, nor to tell her that what she wanted to do wasn’t what she really wanted to do. She was old enough to know her own mind, and it was steering her in the direction of the coast. If nothing else, she could take heart knowing it would keep her far away from his irritating pr
esence.

  Even now she could feel his gaze boring into her, and whenever she sought him out in the crowd to offer a glare of disapproval, their eyes clashed with the force of high tide.

  At one point, she thought she might gain a reprieve, as a quick scan of the room didn’t produce him. She breathed a sigh of relief, because she could finally quench her parched throat and give her aching feet a much-needed rest. Begging her current partner for a glass of punch, rather than join another dreaded quadrille, she abruptly spied Mr. William Bullock and decided to pay her respects. Although he was a commoner, his popularity with antiquities and the Egyptian Hall had gained him entrée into some of the most prestigious circles in society.

  A robust gentleman with a partially bald head and protruding jowls, he was one of the few people Calliope could talk to openly about her interest in prehistoric artifacts, because he was eager to discuss anything that had to do with his life’s work.

  As she drew nearer to the few men standing around him, she caught snippets of the conversation. “….could easily turn such a venture into quite a profit. I, myself, might be inclined to fund part of the exhibition, for a share of the proceeds, of course.”

  Calliope recognized the gray-haired man with brows as bushy as his sideburns as one of the curators. She had been a frequent visitor to the Hall in recent months, since most of the peerage were still esconsed at their country estates, and she’d had to find a way to fill those long, winter days. She had seen most of the gentleman in attendance there quite frequently.

  As Mr. Bullock caught her eye, he smiled politely and inclined his head. “Lady Calliope.”

  “Mr. Bullock.” She acknowledged in return, and then nodded to the other men in his circle. “Mr. Sheldon. Lord Timberline. Lord Carter. Mr. Falone.”