A Christmas Scandal (15 page)

“You here to fetch yourself a duke, Miss Pierce?” he asked, and his smile was so charming Maggie, who was already suspicious of the man, couldn’t help but smile. God help Amelia if she was falling for him.

“No. I’m afraid I’m not much of a catch for a title.”

Mr. Kitteridge let out a low chuckle and there was a bit of the devil in his eyes. “Now, I wouldn’t go sayin’ that, Miss Pierce.”

Maggie gave him a look as if he’d quite lost his mind. He was clearly flirting with her even though he’d spent most of the evening talking with Amelia. The younger girl didn’t miss the obvious bit of flirtation, either. In fact, Maggie was quite certain that if Amelia had claws, she would have sprung them at that very moment. Mr. Kitteridge gave her a self-effacing smile, a sort of facial shrug that told her he simply couldn’t help himself, he flirted with all women.

“Miss Pierce is practically engaged,” Amelia said.

“Is that right? Who’s the lucky fellow?” he asked, scanning the room as if he might pick him out. Then he stopped dead. “That there fellow,” he said, nodding across the dance floor.

“No,” Amelia said, giggling. “That’s my brother. It’s the gentleman in the corner. The one standing next to that bald elderly man.”

Mr. Kitteridge looked down at Maggie and she looked stubbornly up at him.

“You don’t say?” he drawled, his eyes flickering up again to Lord Hollings before resting on her. “Well, good for you, Miss Pierce.”

“Nothing is official,” she said through partially clenched teeth.

Then, in one deft move, Amelia grabbed the piece of hair she’d tugged free and quickly secured it into place. “There. Now you are free to dance the night away. I think I see your next partner coming this way.”

Maggie turned to see a man who must have been nearly seventy coming her way. Suppressing a groan, she smiled at the approaching man whom she remembered as being extremely knowledgeable about raising prized hunting dogs.

“Don’t you have a dance partner?” she asked Amelia, feeling testy.

“No one has asked,” she said, bringing out her laced dance card as proof.

“Aren’t I just the luckiest fellow in England?” Kitteridge said, and he smiled that smile that likely caused a hundred girls to faint dead away just at the glory of it.

Maggie narrowed her eyes, giving the man a silent warning before turning to her next dance partner.

It was nearing midnight when the small orchestra began playing the Emperor’s Waltz, one of Maggie’s least favorite Strauss compositions. It wasn’t because the piece wasn’t lovely, but because it began strong and lively, then turned so soulful she rarely was dried-eyed by the end. And she was dancing with Lord Hollings.

Her emotions were already frayed from Sir William and her inability to find her mother. It was possible she was playing cards with some of the other older ladies. Perhaps going to a ball without her husband was too painful for her. Maggie wished she had been smart enough to disappear somewhere, for she didn’t think she’d be able to get through the Emperor’s Waltz in Lord Hollings’s arms without completely breaking down.

“Miss Pierce,” he said, coming up behind her.

She nodded, praying he couldn’t hear her heart, which was pounding so painfully, and she held up her arms, carefully placing one in his firm hand, the other on his shoulder.

He held her lightly as they began to move among the other dancers. “As I recall, this is not your favorite Strauss,” he said, completely surprising her.

“I cannot believe you remember that.”

He smiled. “It seems I am cursed to remember every detail about you.” He tightened his hold just then, and she let him. Something was different about him. He kept his eyes on hers, his gaze holding a strange, dark intensity that made a flood of heat nearly consume her.
Oh, dear God.

They danced without speaking, without smiling, and a casual observer might think they were a couple who was bored, with life, with each other. But someone who was watching intensely might have seen Maggie’s parted lips, the way her breath was catching oddly in her chest, the way his arms pulled her subtly closer and closer until they were nearly fully embracing.

When the music stopped, Lord Hollings pulled her out of the ballroom and to the empty veranda. He didn’t say a word. Neither did she.

Even when he pressed her against the cold stone of the mansion, even when he brought his mouth against hers, even when he pressed his aroused body to hers, even then, they were silent. She pulled him against her, reveling in the feel of his mouth, his tongue, his hands that seemed to touch her everywhere, her breasts, her neck, between her legs. And she, oh God, she touched him on his face, his neck, his chest, and fleetingly, because she simply could not help herself, his arousal.

He pulled away, breathing harshly, staring at her as if she’d bewitched him. Swallowing heavily, he finally spoke.

“He can’t have you.”

And then he pressed a finger against her lips, to stop her from speaking, and then put that same finger against his mouth. He left her there, just as another couple walked onto the veranda, giving her a silent warning to remain still and silent.

Maggie remained on the veranda until the other couple, driven back inside by the cold, left. She hadn’t realized just how frigid the air was until they were gone; then she began shaking violently, tears streaming down her face.

Maggie wiped her tears and took a bracing, shaking, breath. She’d been outside perhaps two minutes; the kiss had lasted no more than thirty seconds. Yet she felt completely ravished.

Her lips were slightly swollen, her breasts felt strangely heavy, her entire body almost painfully aroused. Never in her life had she felt this way, out of control, ready to jump out of her skin.

And she had to go back into the ballroom and face Sir William and pretend nothing had happened. She had to sit and eat supper, chat with her neighbors, smile, all the while she would still feel Lord Hollings’s hands on her. Would be wishing she was still with him, touching him, tasting him.

Oh, goodness, what was happening to her? She felt as if she were about to come apart, fly into a million pieces and blow away into oblivion.

“There you are. They’ve just called everyone for dinner. You look flushed, my dear.” Sir William seemed genuinely happy to see her, which made her feel even more guilty. She almost wished he suspected something; it would only serve her right.

“I went outside for some fresh air. It’s frigid out there. I don’t know why, but I never picture London as being as cold as New York. My cheeks are like ice.”

He put the back of his hand against her cheek and it took every bit of self-control not to back away. Somehow it seemed duplicitous to allow two men to touch her tenderly in a single evening.

“You are like ice,” he said. “Some sherry will warm you up.”

Maggie rarely had spirits, but right at that moment, she thought she just might down an entire decanter of sherry.

“Sir William, have you seen my mother? She seems to have disappeared.”

“Can’t say that I have. She’s likely off somewhere playing whist.”

“That’s what I thought. If you don’t mind, I need to go to the water closet.”

He nodded. “I’ll wait by the entrance of the dining hall.”

Maggie wished he would simply go inside and sit at their table, but didn’t argue. It really was the proper thing to do, but at the moment she just wanted to get away from him and perhaps from her own guilt.

Maggie emerged from the water closet when she saw Lord Hollings coming quickly toward her. “I’ve found your mother,” he said, and something about the way he said it made her instantly worried. The passionate interlude they’d shared might never have happened the moment he said those words. He immediately turned down a long hallway and she followed him, her anxiety escalating.

“Is she all right?”

“You could say that,” he said, sounding as if he was trying to suppress a laugh. “She’s plowed.”

Maggie stopped dead. “Do you mean drunk?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “It would appear so.”

“But she doesn’t drink,” Maggie said, bewildered. “Where is she?”

Lord Hollings continued to lead her down the deserted hallway to a closed door. “I couldn’t help myself. I wanted to check out their library,” he said, opening the door. “And that is where I found her.”

“Good Lord,” Maggie whispered. Her mother lay slouched in a large chair, her legs splayed as far as her gown would allow, her hair completely askew, her mouth wide open and emitting a noise quite unlike anything Maggie had ever heard. She rushed to her side, and, even though the evidence was staring her in the face, she was still shocked when she smelled the alcohol on her mother’s breath.

“She’s drunk!” Maggie whispered harshly.

“So it would seem. Now we have to figure out a way of getting her out of here without anyone being the wiser.”

Maggie pressed her fingers against her temples. This was all too, too much. “It’s impossible.”

“Nothing is impossible,” Lord Hollings said, going over to the large windows and examining them. “I could carry her through here.” He sounded doubtful, for there was at least four feet between the bottom of the window and the floor.

“I’ve never even seen her take a glass of wine,” Maggie said, still in disbelief. No matter how much she wanted to reject the idea that her mother was passed out at her first London ball, she knew she could not. She recalled images of her mother over the past weeks, cheeks flushed, napping in the middle of the day, her strange outbursts, her easy tears. Maggie had attributed all that to the undo stress her mother was under. But apparently that stress had led her mother to the bottle.

“Honestly, I don’t know if I can take much more,” Maggie said softly.

Edward assumed she was talking about her fiancé’s abandonment, and now this. “We’ll get her out with none the wiser,” he said with false bravado. The truth was, Edward wasn’t at all certain he’d be able to sneak an unconscious woman in full ball dress out to their carriage with none being the wiser. “Let me get the carriage round and see if we can discreetly get her out. Then I’ll find Amelia and tell her we must go.”

“She’ll be so disappointed.”

“By the look of things with that cowboy, it is probably just as well. I fully expect her to go on bended knee any moment and ask him to marry her.”

Maggie giggled, which is exactly what he was aiming for. Edward walked over to her, hating to see her so sad. “Don’t worry,” he said, kissing her lightly. “Everything will be all right.”

She looked at him as if he were delusional, and it was his turn to chuckle.

“I’ll meet you back here in ten minutes,” he said, taking out his watch. “I’ll bring Amelia here. I know she can be trusted to be discreet.” Just then Maggie’s mother let out a loud snort, shifted a bit, then resumed her snoring. Maggie gave him a sick smile. He resisted the urge to pull her into his arms; she looked so damned fragile at the moment, so unlike her confident self.

“Lord Hollings,” she called after him. “Sir William is waiting for me to join him for dinner. Could you—”

“I’ll tell him your mother is not feeling well and we must bring her home immediately.”

“Thank you.”

The last thing he wanted to do was talk to Sir William, but at that moment he likely would have done anything to ease Maggie’s worries. He found Sir William pacing at the entrance to the vast dining hall. Inside, the sound of muffled voices and clinking silverware told him dinner had begun.

“Sir William, I’m afraid Miss Pierce will not be joining you. Her mother has taken ill and must go home. She sends her regrets, of course.”

Sir William eyed him almost hostilely. “So you are taking her to home.”

“Of course.”

“I see no reason why Miss Pierce cannot stay. I’ll take her home myself.”

“I’m afraid Miss Pierce wants to stay with her mother,” Edward said, trying not to lose patience with the man. Of all people, he understood Maggie’s charm. He almost felt sorry for the old man, for there was absolutely no way he was going to allow Maggie to marry him. He fully intended to marry her himself.

Sir William clenched his jaw, clearly not happy with the events. “Where is she, then? I’d like to bid her good night.”

Edward smiled. “I really couldn’t say.”

“You what?”

“I have to find my sister, sir. If you’ll excuse me.”

“What do you mean, you cannot say?”

Edward turned, all pretense of pleasantness wiped from his face. “Good evening, sir,” he said in clipped tones, and stalked off to find his sister.

Amelia was sitting next to Carson Kitteridge, laughing, her eyes sparkling, and Edward felt just a twinge of remorse that he would have to drag her away. He’d never seen his sister having so much fun. Whispering in her ear, he relayed what had happened and was gratified when she immediately stood.

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Kitteridge, but my friend’s mother has taken ill and I must go.”

“I sure would like to call on you,” he said, looking from Amelia to Edward.

Edward, knowing when he was defeated, agreed and Amelia rewarded him with a quick hug.

“Good night, Mr. Kitteridge. And thank you for being such a wonderful companion this evening. It really was the most wonderful of nights.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Lady Amelia,” he said, looking sorrowful.

Brother and sister walked from the dining hall, stopping only to thank Lady Rotherham for a beautiful evening. “I’m sorry you had to leave,” he said.

“I am, too. Now, what happened? Is she truly plowed?”

Edward chuckled to hear such slang from his little sister’s mouth. “Extremely so. I don’t have to tell you that is it extremely important that this go no further than us.”

“Of course not,” Amelia said, slightly offended.

“I must say I have to credit you for not making a fuss at leaving early.”

Amelia smiled. “I’m not happy about it, but Mr. Kitteridge had already promised to call on me. Is he not the most gallant man you’ve ever met? Did you know he’s a Texas Ranger? He’s captured criminals, murderers even. He’s a true American hero. And imagine, he’s coming to call on me!”

“Yes, I’m quite certain the sun dims in his presence.”

Amelia batted her brother’s arm. “I do believe you are jealous of his wonderfulness.”

“Absolutely green.”

“How is Miss Pierce? She must be absolutely mortified.”

“She is quite upset. And worried we’ll not get her mother out before anyone notices.”

Amelia was silent for a few moments before stopping her brother. “I caught her drinking,” she whispered. “I was looking for Miss Pierce and found her drinking straight from one of the duke’s decanters. I think it was brandy,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “She didn’t see me, and I didn’t tell a soul.”

“Maggie told me her mother didn’t drink.”

Amelia grinned. “Oh,
Maggie
told you, did she?”

“Miss Pierce told me.”

“I do believe you said ‘Maggie.’”

“A slip of the tongue. This is all quite upsetting.”

They’d reached the library, so Amelia stopped her teasing. “Oh, goodness,” she said when she spotted Mrs. Pierce.

“Amelia, I’m so sorry about this. I know how much you were enjoying the ball.”

Amelia waved away her apology. “Don’t worry. He’s coming to see me tomorrow,” she said, hugging herself happily. “I do believe I’m in love.”

Edward looked at his sister in wild disbelief. “You do not love Carson Kitteridge. You are deeply infatuated. You hardly know the man.”

Amelia scowled at her brother. “You are such a bore,” she said. “Just because you’ve never been in love—” She stopped abruptly, darting a look to Maggie, and gave him a secret smile, which made Edward want to not so secretly strangle his little sister.

“Let’s get this over with. There’s a door down the hall. It’s only a short walk to where I have the carriage waiting. The only risk is that someone will see us in the hallway, but since everyone is still dining, we have a good chance of that not happening. Now, Maggie, you get on that side of your mother, I’ll get on this side.” Maggie got into position. “And lift.”

As soon as they lifted the prone woman, she began to mumble protests. “What you doing?” she demanded groggily.

“It’s time to go home, Mama.”

“What? We just got here,” she said, trying awkwardly to push Maggie and Edward away.

“My God, her breath could kill a cat,” he said.

“Would you
please.”

“Mrs. Pierce, the ball is quite over. We must go to the carriage now.”

“But I haven’t eaten,” she said. Then, “That’s all right. I’m not feeling all tha’ well, to be honeshed.” She let out a loud and rather pungent burp.

“Let’s get her outside before she gets ill.”

“Oh, no,” Maggie said, helping Lord Hollings to half drag her mother out the library and down the hall. Amelia stood as a sentinel to make certain no one saw their escape. When they reached the door, she hurried to open it for them, and it was just a few steps to the carriage.

“Can you make it up, Mrs. Pierce?”

“Of coursh I can, you idiot.”

“Mother!”

“I’m not an invalid. Oh, goodness.” She threw up then, all over her gown.

After a few body-racking heaves, she seemed to recover enough to be horrified by what had just happened.

“No worries,” Edward said cheerfully. “Up you go now, and if you think you’re going to be sick again, let us know, right?”

All the way to Hanover Square, her mother continually apologized until Maggie threatened to tie a gag across her mouth unless she stopped. Edward couldn’t help himself—he laughed.

“It’s not funny,” Maggie said sternly, but after a few moments began laughing with him. It was either that, or cry.

After they got her mother safely in bed, Amelia, Maggie, and Edward went to his kitchen to forage for food. They were all famished, having missed the midnight dinner.

“Was Sir William awfully disappointed?” Maggie asked after they were seated around the large wooden table where the staff usually ate. In front of them was heated-up potato soup and cold beef. Nothing had ever tasted better to them.

“He was livid,” Edward said blandly.

“Was he really?” Amelia asked.

“I would say he was irritated. I do believe he thought I conspired with Mrs. Pierce so that I would have to drag Miss Pierce away. I do not think he likes the fact that she is staying under my roof.”

“It is quite proper,” Maggie said, grinning, “especially with my mother’s eagle eye watching me every moment.”

“He seems to be the jealous sort.”

“There’s nothing improper about Maggie being here,” Amelia said. “I’m here, and her mother’s here, so to speak. And it’s not as if you have designs on Miss Pierce yourself. No one could be more disinterested. Isn’t that right, Edward?”

“That is true,” he said, giving Maggie a little wink. She, in turn, gave her head an almost imperceptible shake.

“Actually, Amelia,” she said with a wicked gleam, “your brother is madly in love with me. He has been since Newport.” She shrugged. “But I’m completely uninterested in him. Poor fellow.”

“I am madly in love,” he said, and sounded entirely too serious.

“Yes. With his reflection,” Amelia said, giggling.

“You have to admit I am a fine specimen.”

The two girls were having fits.

“I don’t expect my own sister to think so, but don’t you, Miss Pierce?”

Maggie could hardly speak. “A fine specimen of what? Male conceit?”