An Invitation to Scandal (32 page)

He stepped back and slammed the door in her face, then returned to the interior of the club. Bowen and Spence stared at him, dumbstruck. He had purposely not told them of his plan. He needed their reaction to appear genuine.

He took his seat, picked up his drink and casually waved it in their direction as if nothing untoward had occurred. The other members of the clubs began to murmur about the scene they had witnessed.

“You were right, Spence.”

His friend’s eyes widened. “I was?”

Nicholas forced himself not to grin, wanting to look properly chagrined in front of the other patrons, so that when word spread, it would be told that despite his protests of innocence, Lord Blackbourne’s reaction, when called out by his mistress in a most public and humiliating fashion, told the true story.

“It appears I came up with something scandalous after all.”

He watched the realization sink in. Spence schooled his features, but an appreciative spark gleamed in his eyes.

“Well played, sir.”

“Not so fast,” Bowen said, his voice quiet. Nicholas turned to him.

“Lord Selward is sitting two tables over. He seems less impressed with the display than the two of you.”

Nicholas shrugged. “Was that not the point? The scandal of today needs to swiftly reach the ears of Miss Caldwell and her family. At which point I will let her know such events will be a regular occurrence in our marriage and she should accustom herself to that fact or find herself a new groom. Selward, in addition to being a toad, also gossips like an old woman. He’s the perfect man to get the job done.”

“He is also the man your sister is determined to marry. Will he take kindly to courting your sister after today’s fiasco? The man may be an ass but he avoids scandal as if it were the plague.”

Nicholas let his gaze slide toward the man in question. Selward did in fact appear quite disgusted. The man glared at him, then looked away.

His sister would not be pleased with him.

“Think of it as killing two birds with one stone,” Spence said, finding the bright side. “Opal’s theatrics will hopefully eradicate Miss Caldwell’s desire to marry you and it will keep Lady Rebecca from making the hugest mistake of her life by marrying a simpering fop such as Selward.” Spence held up his drink in salute. “Job well done, I say.”

Nicholas doubted Rebecca would share Spence’s sentiment. When his sister set her mind to something, deterring her was like trying to run through a brick wall. Impossible, and often painful.

* * *

Her mother handed her gloves and hat to Titus as Abigail descended the staircase. She had gone out to make a few calls, their company now sought after, more so than it had been, thanks to the impression that a truce had been called between the Laythams and the Sheridans. Abigail had foregone visiting today however, as her mother intended on seeing Lady Blackbourne, and Abigail did not have the heart to listen to chatter of her son’s upcoming nuptials. Despite Nicholas’s promise to make things right, the odds were stacked heavily against them and as much as she trusted in his willingness to do what he could to change things, what could he really do? The engagement was set. It would take a herculean effort to convince Miss Caldwell to give up the financial security and elevated status marriage to Nicholas would bring her and her family.

She wished she could hate the woman for it, and while she despised the methods she used, a part of her understood. Abigail experienced the same desperation and sense of family loyalty. She’d wrestled with it this past week with Lord Tarrington’s proposal looming over her head. She had two more days before he demanded an answer or withdrew his offer.

At the base of the stairs the tall clock ticked off the seconds, a constant reminder time passed. She had yet to hear a word from Nicholas since their clandestine meeting.

“Good afternoon, Mother,” Abigail said, forcing a smile upon her face as she entered the front hall. “How does Lady Blackbourne fair today?”

“As well as can be expected.” Mother motioned to the front sitting room. “Will you join me for tea?”

“Yes, of course.”

Her mother turned to their butler. “Have Mabel bring us a tray, will you, Titus?”

“Right away, madam.”

Once they were settled, her mother looked at Abigail and reached across to take her hands.

“There has been a further upset at the Sheridan household, I’m afraid.”

“Oh dear, no one is ill, are they?” Her mind immediately went to Nicholas. Fear rippled through her body. Is that why she hadn’t heard from him?

“No dear, although Gloria has said her son is simply not himself since his father’s death. They were never close and she is surprised by his melancholy. Still, I suppose one never knows what goes on deep in someone’s heart. Perhaps he is simply mourning the missed chance to repair their relationship.”

Abigail dipped her head to avoid her mother’s gaze. She knew Nicholas’s melancholy had little to do with the previous Lord Blackbourne. He did not care about repairing the past, only saving the future. Their future.

“If no one is ill, what is the problem?”

Her mother sighed and sat up. “It appears there was a scene at the club involving Lord Blackbourne and that vile woman, Madame St. Augustine.”

“A scene?” Abigail glanced up. “What happened?”

“I am not sure. Lady Blackbourne did not go into detail, but it appears Lord Selward witnessed it.”

“Oh.” What had Nicholas done? Had he given up and fallen back into the black despair of his former behavior? No! She refused to believe it.

“Lord Selward, who, as you know, had shown an interest in Lady Rebecca, now seems to have withdrawn his attentions. After coming by each day to visit since their return to London he has not graced their doorstep since the event at the club. She is quite heartbroken over the matter. More distressing to Lady Blackbourne is the idea that Lord Blackbourne has returned to his old life. She thought that well left behind, but it appears not.”

“We must not jump to conclusions, Mother. Perhaps there is a logical explanation,” Abigail jumped to his defense.

“Perhaps,” Mother said as Mabel set the tea service down on the table.

Abigail’s brain worked furiously as she poured two cups of tea. “Perhaps the gossips exaggerated the event.” The ton had a penchant for embellishing the facts to make a better story.

“Perhaps Lord Blackbourne’s marriage to Miss Caldwell will help smooth things over, but who knows when that will occur.”

The cup rattled in Abigail’s hand and realization struck like a rogue streak of lightning from a dark sky. Lord Selward was not the only one averse to scandal. Miss Caldwell shared his aversion. Had Nicholas staged an embarrassing display in order to achieve the impossible? Did she dare hope? “H—has Miss Caldwell cried off the engagement?”

Her mother picked up a biscuit and nibbled off an end. The interminable wait while she chewed the small bite drove her to the brink. “No, of course not. This marriage is a huge boon for her. I think it would take more than one scandalous event to sway her from it.”

Abigail’s heart deflated and sank to her toes. She sank into a chair and took a sip of tea to hide the tremble of her lips. “Oh.”

“It is just with the mourning period, the wedding has been put on hold. Lord Blackbourne has indicated he feels it in bad taste to host such a celebration.” Her mother looked across the table at Abigail. “I’m certain he is right, though it feels more like a delay tactic to me.”

“A delay tactic?” Abigail studied the intricate rose pattern on the tea cup.

“I think he proposed to Miss Caldwell to please his family, especially the previous Lord Blackbourne. Now with his father gone, perhaps he regrets his proposal. Not that there is much to be done about it now. The engagement has been announced. Unless Miss Caldwell changes her mind…” Her mother’s words trailed off, along with Abigail’s hopes.

It all rested with Miss Caldwell.

How she loathed this sense of helplessness. Of waiting and wishing without being able to do anything. Her stomach had been in knots since her meeting with Nicholas. How could she simply stand by and wait while the man she loved stood on the precipice of marrying someone else?

And yet, what else could she do? She had combed her mind for any thread of an idea that would aid their cause and each time came away empty handed. It was not in her nature to sit idle when something needed to be done. But now she had no other choice.

She must sit tight and put her trust in Nicholas to make things right.

Trust.

She took a deep breath. It wasn’t Nicholas she didn’t trust. It was fate. To date, it had not been kind.

Abigail closed her eyes and prayed this time fate would be on their side. And soon.

Chapter Twenty-Three

It had been several days since Nicholas had stepped foot inside the Caldwell home for his customary visit to his fiancée, but suddenly everything looked different. Little tell tale signs of wear and tear popped out at him while he waited in the sitting room. Signs that the Caldwell’s were not terribly affluent, a reminder he had let slip from his mind when he first courted Miss Caldwell. It hadn’t really mattered. He courted her for the good she could do to his tarnished reputation, and if she in turn needed him for the large sum in his bank account, it hardly seemed to matter. Tit for tat, so to speak.

But somewhere along the way tit for tat had stopped being enough. Nicholas could pinpoint the moment with alarming accuracy. In the park when Abigail attempted to avoid him and instead landed herself in the lake.

Even then, the difference between the two women had been apparent. Miss Caldwell would never have tried to evade him. She would have suffered in silence with a fixed demi-smile upon her countenance. She would have said all the right things and then gone on her way.

But Abigail was never one to suffer in silence. She did not possess a passive or demure bone in her body and he loved her for it all the more.

Life with her would never be dull. It would be full of life and laughter and constant surprises.

Abigail Laytham was an uncommon sort of woman and he loved her more deeply than he ever thought possible. He would be damned if he let her slip through his fingers.

“Lord Blackbourne! I was not expecting you.” Baron Caldwell walked into the room and extended his hand. Nicholas suffered a pang of regret. It had never been his intention to cause the Caldwell family grief. The Baron was a good man. Nicholas would ensure Caldwell did not suffer for what he must do this day.

Nicholas forced a welcoming grin. “Indeed, I was not expecting myself. But I was in the area and thought I would pay Miss Caldwell a visit, if it would not be too much trouble.”

“Of course, of course.” Caldwell made a sweeping motion with his arm. “Make yourself at home. Gordon,” he motioned to the butler, “Fix Lord Blackbourne a drink. I shall see where my daughter is. Women, you know. We’re forever looking for them or waiting on them, eh?”

Nicholas nodded, but knew it not to be true. For at this moment, one certain lady waited on him; pinned her hopes and her trust on his success today. The weight of it rested heavy on his shoulders.

A few minutes later, his fiancée appeared in the doorway. She moved with grace and poise as she stepped into the room, leaving the door opened for propriety’s sake. Despite being affianced, he expected her mother lingered nearby.

“Lord Blackbourne.” Miss Caldwell gave a brief curtsey, always a stickler for propriety. Did she plan on doing that every time they met after they were married? He hoped never to know the answer to that question. “It has been several days. I had begun to wonder if you had forgotten my address.”

Nicholas’s gaze raked over her. She was a true beauty, at least in the conventional sense, with deep chocolate brown hair and almond shaped eyes. She had a pleasing shape, not too thin, not too plump. Her manner of dress was neither ostentatious nor overtly enticing.

All in all, Miss Caldwell was the perfect picture of what a man should wish for in a wife. If a man were only buying a picture. But his fiancée held no warmth for him. Nothing about her welcomed or embraced him. She saw things in black and white. She needed this, so she must do that. He was nothing more to her than a means to an end. He wondered how she settled it in her own mind, marrying in such a way. People of their station did it all the time, he knew. But he had seen firsthand with his own parents’ marriage, the misery such a loveless union wrought. He could not consign himself to that. Nor would he allow Abigail to do the same.

He had once thought his passion and desires were responsible for his downfall and had wished to be rid of them. Now he saw them for what they were. An integral and necessary part of life. Without them, life became colorless. It lacked depth and meaning. It held nothing of interest.

No, passion was essential. Desire even more so. And both were worth risking everything for.

Abigail had taught him that.

He would not allow the lesson to go unacknowledged.

“Please, sit down.” Nicholas motioned to the seat on the sofa next to where he stood.

Miss Caldwell crossed the room and sat down, arranging her skirts around her.

“I was not aware you planned to call today, my lord.”

“I had not.” He took the seat next to her. The stiff cushions had little give to them and did not invite one to stay long. Just as well. He did not intend a lengthy visit. “But it is imperative we speak.”

“I expect you are going to apologize for your atrocious behavior? I heard all about your altercation with
that
woman. It is done. And if I have your word it will not happen in the future, then it can remain in the past and we shall never speak of it again.”

Nicholas’s stomach turned. He had hoped she would not so easily dismiss the scandal his interaction with Opal had created. He had wanted her to be appalled. Disgusted. But if so, she chose to overlook it to meet her ends.

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible,” he said.

“I beg your pardon?”