A Christmas Scandal (4 page)

“Let me think on it, Mama. I cannot think of that now,” Maggie answered dully. “I’m going to lie down, if you don’t mind.” When her mother called her name, she kept walking, shutting out her cries, her disappointment, her anger.

When Maggie went into her room she lay dry-eyed staring up at the ceiling trying to stop herself from thinking about anything, but the images she’d been fighting for weeks kept assaulting her. Flashes of what had happened, bits of that terrible conversation flew at her, like some unstoppable pestilence.

“Bend over, my dear. Grab the desk.”

He always seemed to have too much saliva in his mouth and would noisily slurp at it, swallowing audibly. His hands dug into her hips, pressing, leaving marks that remained for weeks. She’d feared at first they would never go away, a brand that would never fade.

Charles Barnes had been one of her father’s business associates. She’d known him for years, and had instinctively, even as a child, stayed away from him. She’d never liked the way he looked at her, the way on those few occasions when she’d been forced to offer him her hand, he’d grasp it and hold, pressing her flesh in a way that made her want to go bathe. He had a way of sweeping his gaze up and down her body that was slightly repugnant. But he was one of her father’s good friends and Maggie had always tried to be polite.

Mr. Barnes was a soft man, not overly fat, but simply soft, like a blob of melting butter. His features looked like so much moist dough plopped together with two small raisins pressed in for eyes. And his mouth, Maggie had always thought his mouth too full, too red.

This was the man who took her virginity. This was the man she bent over for. This was the man who put his penis inside her, who jerked in and out, grunting like a pig behind her, smearing her blood on her buttocks, who laughed when he was done as she’d cried.

This was the man who promised if she did this thing, this disgusting mating, that he would guarantee her father would only serve one year. He’d said he knew the prosecutor, that he would make a deal. He’d told her, even as he painfully squeezed her breasts, that her father would be so proud of what she was doing, the sacrifice she was making, and he laughed when she begged him to never tell.

As if he would. That is how stupid she’d been. How stupid and willing. She’d bent over that desk, felt the cool air on her legs, felt him drag down her bloomers, felt him separate her, felt him, felt him, felt him.

Maggie pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying in vain to press the images away.

It had been her idea. Certainly, he had hinted at it. He’d told her he had the power to lessen her father’s sentence, but why should he? What would he get out of it? There was no money left to give him. What would be worth such valuable information? What could anyone give him? What?

“Myself,” Maggie had said. “You can have me. Once.”

A slow, horrible smile had appeared on those too-thick, too-red lips. “Do you think you are worth it, my dear?” he asked as he moved one thick finger across his lips.

She’d swallowed down the bile and lifted her chin. “More than worth it.”

“All right, then. I agree.”

Maggie stood before him, her body suddenly bathed in a cold sweat, and she’d nodded. “But you must promise me my father will not be in prison for more than a year.”

“Yes. I promise. Now. Bend over, my dear. Grab the desk.”

Edward was at the moment feeling rather put out. He’d gotten himself so worked up at the thought of seeing Miss Pierce again, he’d barely been able to stomach breakfast, and she’d nearly dismissed him. No, it was worse than that. It was as if he were an acquaintance, and not a very well known one at that. While he’d been pining away, pathetically reliving every moment of their time together in Newport and New York, she’d been getting on with her life. He’d already become a small speck in her long and happy life, a distraction on a long-ago summer season. Perhaps even—humiliating as it was to think—simply a means to make another man jealous. All that rot about how she wanted to dissuade the Wright brothers from matrimonial pursuit when what she’d truly wanted was to make herself more desirable.

How nice to see you again, Lord Hollings, she’d gushed, then turned immediately away to exclaim in the same tone how wonderful Rand’s home was. What had he expected? That she’d throw herself into his arms? Perhaps not so much as that, but a warm look, a smile that said something other than “how nice to see you.” Or a blush that told him she’d been uncomfortable, something,
anything
that meant she remembered him.

He felt his entire body heat with mortification when he recalled how he’d taken her letters out and read them. And if her fiancé dared show his face here, why, he’d…he’d…Ah, hell. He’d probably act the gentleman and welcome the chap.

“May I come in?” his sister said, walking into his private sitting room without so much as a knock.

“No.”

She didn’t even pause as she sat down upon his favorite chair, perching herself on its edge so that she couldn’t begin to appreciate the comfort of the item. “I’m very disappointed,” she said. “Here I was thinking Miss Pierce was some lost love when it was clear that she is not.”

“I told you she was nothing,” he said rather shortly, and immediately wished he had not. His sister pounced on him like a cat pouncing on an injured mouse.

“But she is something to you, isn’t she?” This last was said with true tragedy.

“Amelia,” he said as a warning. “If you persist on this ridiculous fantasy I am going to have to closely monitor your reading material. Again.”

Amelia let out a huff of impatience. “You don’t understand what it has been like living with you these past months. Were you always this bleak? I remember you as a much happier person.”

Edward smiled gently at his pouting sister. Sometimes she seemed far younger than her nineteen years. It was hard to believe that Amelia and the duchess were nearly the same age. “The last time you spent any time at all with me was when you were eight and I was seventeen. That, as I recall, was a lovely summer.”

She put her chin on her fist and looked as if she were trying to remember that far back. She straightened abruptly. “That was the summer of Giselle.”

If Edward was shocked that his little sister remembered the daughter of one of his father’s friends, he tried valiantly not to show it. She’d been nothing more than a baby then, a lonely little girl with no one to play with, one who desperately missed her older sister. God, he hadn’t thought about his younger sister in months. She’d died when she was twelve, and Amelia had been inconsolable for months afterward. Certainly, Giselle and her extremely loose morals had helped him to forget his grief, a thought that filled him with a bit of guilt even now. No doubt following them around helped Amelia through the pain of missing Caroline.

“Giselle was very pleasant,” he said.

“You used to laugh all the time. It was as if everything she said was supremely funny. I never did like her very much.”

“I think I liked her rather well,” Edward said with a crooked smile.

“Which is why it is so important for you to fall in love.”

Edward let out a beleaguered sigh, then gave a small bow to his sister. “I vow I will make it my priority in the coming seasons to secure a proper wife,” he said, hoping his wily little sister wouldn’t notice his use of a plural in the word “seasons.” Of course, that was too much to ask for.

“Season,” Amelia said. “One that I should be participating in. I am nineteen, after all. If only I had a proper chaperone, an older, married woman who isn’t encumbered with a husband hanging about. One who, perhaps, would adore a chance to see—”

“Stop right there, you devious little schemer. Mrs. Pierce cannot be your chaperone. At the moment, she is Miss Pierce’s chaperone. Besides, I don’t believe they will be staying in England as long as all that. It’s only October now. The season doesn’t get into full swing until April or May. You know that.” Edward thought that would settle things directly, but he should have known better.

“We could ask. Perhaps they would enjoy extending their stay if it meant participating in the season. She can chaperone us both,” Amelia said, her face alighting with the knowledge that she’d solved a major problem.

“Both?”

“Why, don’t you think Miss Pierce would appreciate a London season?” She held up her hand to stem his objection. “I know she is here for the duchess. But once the baby is born, perhaps she would enjoy seeing London. No one likes to travel during the winter months. Just ask the duchess what she thinks of that idea. You recall how horrid her trip was on that awful cargo ship. Is that what you would wish for Miss and Mrs. Pierce? An ocean voyage on a dilapidated old cargo ship? And you can escort us everywhere. Steer her clear of the bad apples.”

Edward had, throughout Amelia’s monologue, tried to interrupt her torrent of ideas, but he was pointedly ignored. Just as he knew whatever he said to her now would be pointedly ignored. But he decided to try anyway, for the thought of steering Miss Pierce away from ardent suitors was about as palatable as eating a pile of rotting, steaming fish. “Absolutely not. I would never impose on Mrs. Pierce to do such a thing. Besides, Miss Pierce is engaged to be married. A season for her would be pointless.”

“Now you are simply being mean,” Amelia announced with assurance. “Think on it, will you? And don’t be such a poor sport. Just because Miss Pierce isn’t interested in you doesn’t mean you shouldn’t look yourself. Perhaps she could help you find someone.”

“Are you trying to make me angry?”

Amelia looked suitably shocked.

“Because I can tell you right now it is not working,” Edward said pleasantly, lying through his teeth.

Amelia stood. “Just think on it, Edward. After all, until you find someone of your own, you’ll have to dance with someone. Why not her?”

“Good-bye, Amelia,” he said, smiling in an effort to disguise his growing anger. His sister was about as transparent as a new plate-glass window, but he had to admire her tenacity.

“I truly would like a season, Edward. Even if it is just for a little while. Next year I’ll be twenty and have absolutely no prospects. I know how tedious it is for you. And I also know that Auntie cannot escort me this year. Not with Janice being so sick lately. Please think on it.”

The only thing worse than his sister’s needling was her sincerity—and she was being excruciatingly sincere at the moment. Janice reminded them both too much of Caroline, who seemed to simply fade away before their eyes before finally dying. “All right. I’ll think on it.”

Amelia brightened and Edward watched her walk in her singularly bouncing way with a feeling of pure inevitability. He owed a season to his sister, and damned if Mrs. Pierce wouldn’t be the absolutely perfect chaperone for her. His list of suitable female chaperones was woefully short, especially with his step-aunt being unavailable. And if Mrs. Pierce was chaperone, Miss Pierce would certainly tag along. And he’d end up escorting her to balls and the opera and watching other men fawn over her, perhaps even fall in love with her. He almost thanked God she was engaged, because he didn’t think he could bear watching her fall in love with someone else.

Maggie sat on the southern veranda, feeling content and snug, with a warm cup of tea in her hands and her best friend sitting next to her. The two were silent, enjoying the rare warmth of a late October morning and the knowledge that for the next few weeks at least, there would be many mornings like this one. Across an expanse of green grass were the brilliant reds, golds, and burnished browns of fall foliage. It looked so much like home that for one fierce moment Maggie wished she were back in New York. But such a thought immediately brought with it the reason why they were not in New York.

Maggie decided at that moment to ruin their peace, because the lie she held in her heart was beginning to invade her feeling of pure contentment.

“I have some news to tell you,” she said, and something in her tone made Elizabeth straighten suddenly even though she’d tried to keep her voice even.

Maggie laughed. “It’s not as bad as all that.” Then she laughed again. “Actually, it is.” She shook her head, still in a bit of disbelief that her life could have changed so drastically in the few months that the two women hadn’t seen each other.

“I might as well just tell you right out. My father is in prison for embezzlement and we are destitute. There. I’ve told you. I feel so much better.” She took a sip from her tea as if all was now well in the world.

Elizabeth looked at her for a stunned moment, then burst out laughing, only to sober moments later when she realized Maggie was not joking. “You’re serious.”

“Utterly,” Maggie said dryly. For some reason, her troubles seemed far less serious here on this veranda with a cup of tea in her hands. “Poor Papa was sentenced for five years. Our house is sold, nearly all our belongings gone. The jewels, the horses, the books. Everything. Sam lost his job at Munroe and Phillips. He’s in Richmond working at a much smaller firm with an old school chum.”

Maggie thought she was fine, truly thought the pain of what her family had endured these last months was dulled by time, until she looked at Elizabeth and saw her friend was crying. Still, she tried valiantly to smile as she looked into her cooling tea. “Please don’t, Elizabeth. I’ve cried enough for both of us.” She swallowed heavily, willing the burning in her throat to dissipate.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that…your father. Your mother! Everyone. It must have been awful,” she said, losing the tenuous control she had.

“It was awful,” she said, giving her friend a shaky smile. “But we’re here now. And all that seems very far away.”

“You don’t have to be brave, Maggie. You don’t have to pretend all is well. Not with me.”

Maggie’s eyes flooded with tears. “If I start crying, I fear I might never stop. Truly.” She squeezed her eyes shut, then quickly dashed away the tears that fell. “So maybe another day I can tell you more. The awful details. But for now, I just wanted you to know. Only you,” she stressed.

“Rand is a very understanding man, Maggie. You should not worry that he would think badly of you or your family.”

Maggie held a little private debate inside her head. She knew if Elizabeth told Rand, Rand would tell Lord Hollings and then she would never be able to behave normally before either one. It was humiliating enough that everyone in New York knew their shame; she did not want every one in England to as well.

“I’d rather you not tell anyone. Is it terrible to ask that of you?”

Elizabeth thought a moment. “I will not lie outright.”

Maggie, feeling awful to ask such a thing, waved a hand as if erasing her request. “No. I should not have asked that of you. But do you think you could ask His Grace to keep it between the two of you? I would never ask such a thing, but living in New York these past months has been difficult.”

Elizabeth, who had full knowledge of how powerful New York’s social elite could be, knew immediately what her friend meant. “It must have been horrid,” she said.

“It wasn’t fun. Though I must say that after you left, our social calendars were not quite as full as before. So when word about Papa’s indictment was in the newspapers, it was hardly a sudden drop in invitations.” Maggie was putting it more than kindly. Night after night she’d sat with her mother before the fire reading or playing her beloved piano. They were long dreary nights, made more dreary with the knowledge that everyone else they knew in the city was out enjoying themselves. They’d gone to the New York Philharmonic once and never again. It was excruciatingly obvious that people who had been their friends were going out of their way to pretend they did not see them. Her mother left at intermission in tears, her father walking stoically next to her.

“I’m so glad to be away from all that pettiness,” Elizabeth said fiercely. “No doubt my mother led the brigade.”

Maggie laughed. “I never heard a word. But I do believe my star wasn’t shining quite as brightly without you by my side.” In fact, they had been written off nearly every social list, but Elizabeth needn’t know that.

“I’m glad you’re here to escape from all that.”

Maggie looked down to her tea and frowned, and started to move to add to her cooling drink some hot tea sitting on the table before them when a footman was immediately on hand to replenish it for her. When he’d gone back to his station near the door, Maggie said, “Mama and I have become quite independent. We can tie our own stays, dress each other’s hair and our own, serve ourselves food. It’s quite liberating,” she said with a hint of self-deprecation.

“Is everything gone? Not your piano.”

“That piano paid for our passage here and back,” Maggie said. “And thank God for it.”

“But your
piano,”
Elizabeth moaned. “You must have been devastated.”

“It just became one more thing to deal with,” Maggie said matter-of-factly. “Our lives have changed so much. We’re officially homeless.” She said it with so much pride, Elizabeth laughed.

“Until you marry Arthur,” Elizabeth said.

Maggie felt her cheeks flush and she prayed her friend thought it was bashfulness and not shame. “Yes.”

“When are you getting married?”

“We haven’t set a date yet,” Maggie said.

“Until you do, this is your home for as long as you want to stay,” Elizabeth said.

“Mother had her heart set on living with her sister in Savannah.” Goodness, the lies were building. “I cannot impose on you too long. I feel rather guilty dragging her halfway around the world simply so I could have a chaperone that I don’t even need.”

“Savannah? Georgia?”

“Mama grew up there and says it’s quite lovely.”

“I’m sure it is,” Elizabeth said doubtfully.

“Oh, you needn’t act as if we are being banished to somewhere terrible.”

“I do wish you could stay here until your wedding. I’ve missed you terribly,” Elizabeth said, and Maggie knew she meant every word. For a moment she allowed herself to think that it was possible, that she could stay in this palace forever. She’d have to tell the truth about Arthur eventually and then what would she do all day? Entertain Elizabeth? Watch their children when they came? Become like an impoverished relation who had to depend upon them for everything? Maggie knew she could never allow that, even though it was wonderfully safe and intoxicatingly tempting…if only for a little while.

“I’ve missed you, too,” Maggie said. “It’s been so dreary in New York without you. Not that I got to see you much when you were there last.”

The two women laughed, remembering how strict Elizabeth’s mother was, and how very afraid she was that Elizabeth would run off with another man and jilt the duke.

“I’ve much more freedom now,” Elizabeth said. “But not for long, I fear.” She looked down at her stomach and Maggie felt an unfamiliar twinge of jealousy. Elizabeth could never know how lucky she was—indeed how lucky she’d been her entire life. Maggie refused to blame her friend for being completely unaware of what real heartache felt like. No one, not even her own mother, knew the demons that plagued Maggie, the nightmares that visited her far too frequently, the dreams she still held even though there was no chance, none at all, that her dreams could come true.

“What on earth do you have to be afraid of?” Lady Matilda asked, coming onto the veranda.

Maggie turned, smiling, until she saw Lord Hollings following behind in her wake.

“Losing my freedom,” Elizabeth explained. “When the baby comes. I think you have inspired me to be a more attentive mother, Lady Matilda.”

Lady Matilda put on a look of horror. “My dear girl, please, I beg you, do not use me as a model of motherhood. It was frugality more than anything else, at least when I was younger, that had me forgo more conventional methods of child-rearing. Horace and I tried governesses,” she said with a laugh. “And tried and tried. Governesses are miserable creatures, you know, poor things. I don’t think most of them even like children.”

Maggie flushed, because she’d been thinking that being a governess was one of her few options.
Miserable creatures.
Yes, that was about it, she thought. If she ever left here, being a governess was one of the few respectable options left to her. And did she like children? She truly didn’t know. She’d never been around any, not for any extended time anyway. What if she didn’t like children? Would she become one of those bitter, onerous creatures that she’d seen sometimes in Central Park walking about with their charges? Those unfortunate women from fallen families who would look at the privileged few around them with jealousy and longing?

“I had a wonderful governess,” Elizabeth said. “Though I must say, I would never say she was a jolly person,” she added thoughtfully.

“I expect when you have no choices, it is difficult to be happy,” Maggie said softly.

“I’m certain it is the option of last resort,” Elizabeth said, and Maggie forced a laugh.

“Oh, there are far worse things for a woman than to be a governess,” she said, sounding, she suddenly realized, like a bitter, hardened woman.

“That is true,” Lady Matilda said with a light laugh. “But certainly not for us, thank God.”

For a moment, the roaring in Maggie’s ears blocked out all sound as memories assaulted her. Only the piercing pain of her nail on her wrist saved her. That small discomfort allowed her to join in on the light laughter, to laugh at the joke that no woman of her class could think of a worse condition than that of being a governess.

“Miss Pierce.”

Despite her resolve to remain unaffected by the earl, Maggie stiffened when he said her name. “Yes, Lord Hollings?”

“I wonder if you would care to walk the grounds with me.”

Edward watched as Maggie stiffened and he wondered why she suddenly was so uncomfortable around him. Perhaps it was that he was nearly a stranger to her, a man she’d danced with, had kissed once, and was now embarrassed to be confronted by such memories. Despite her rather cool reaction to him, some mad part of his brain was making him walk with her, forcing him to fertilize the humiliating seeds of hope he’d planted when he’d heard she was coming to England.

“Of course,” she said, putting down her teacup with what he thought was reluctance. “Lady Matilda, would you care to join us? I would love to hear about your travels in France. I do hope that Mama and I can go to Paris before we go home and I would like your advice on where to go and what to see.”

Edward watched with disbelief as Maggie deftly brought up the one subject Matilda could talk with joy about for hours.

“If you don’t mind, Edward,” she said.

“Of course not,” he said, even though he very much minded.

And so he was relegated to trailing behind his step-aunt and the woman he was quite certain he still loved but who most certainly did not love him. He tried not to let his thoughts wander to her, but it was impossible not to take advantage of staring at her when she was so completely unaware that he did so. He let his eyes sweep down her back, from her curling black hair, to the tiny bit of skin that showed at her neckline above her shawl, to her waist, to her enticing backside. She was just as he remembered. Perhaps a bit paler without the summer sun to give her color. Her laugh was as musical as he remembered, the way she’d toss her curls from her forehead, the sure way she had of walking, long boyish strides that for some reason he found incredibly intoxicating.

He stared at her as they chatted seemingly nonstop, Maggie barraging his aunt with question after question, oohing and aahing over the minutiae of the glories of Paris and the French countryside. His aunt had lived in Paris for five years, so she had a great many stories to tell, and Maggie was very adept at ferreting them out. Clearly, Maggie had not wanted to be alone with him and he wasn’t certain whether he was amused, angry, or hurt, the last of which was completely unacceptable.

Just when he was about to excuse himself from what had become a tedious and frustrating experience, one of his aunt’s children, Mary, ran up to her mother. “Janice just got sick,” she said. “It was the most horrid thing, Mama. She ruined the duchess’s settee, I’m sure she did. It went everywhere and smells simply awful.”

“Yes, Mary, you may spare me the details. All right, then.” Matilda looked up apologetically to Maggie. “I’m afraid I’ll have to cut my walk short, if you’ll excuse me.”

“Of course,” Maggie said, smiling down at Mary, who was being particularly precocious at the moment filled with the gory details of her sister’s sickness. “I think I’ve gotten enough exercise in this morning at any rate.”

Edward watched as Matilda hurried off with Mary, leaving Maggie behind looking a bit bewildered as it dawned on her that she had absolutely no reason to hurry back to the palace the way the other two had.

“Your plans have been foiled,” he said dryly.

Maggie looked at him with pique, not even trying to pretend she didn’t know what he was implying?

“I thought it rather dangerous to be with you even under the watchful eye of Elizabeth. Now that we have lost our chaperone, I fear we must return. For your sake, that is,” she said pertly, but with a mischievous gleam. “I am certain I am much too great a temptation for you. Though you have tried to hide it, it is very clear to me that you are still overwhelmingly smitten with me. While tragic, you can hardly blame me for your sad condition.”