Page 15 of The Gift of a Christmas Scandal

Chapter Seven

The next day the weather kept everyone inside again, and Alex found himself utterly frustrated. Lady Phyllida clung to his side whenever she could, and glared at Lady Selina across the room. She even went so far as to make some snide comments.

“Your Grace, I must admit that I find some of your guests rather… lacking in refinement, shall we say.” Alex made a small choking sound as he swallowed a laugh at the contradiction in her words and behaviour. “Lady Selina Brancourt, for example. She seems rather forward for a girl of her age, especially one who is all but promised to such a well-regarded gentleman as the Earl of Hockingmoor. What can her mother be thinking, to allow her such latitude.”

Alex swallowed, repressing his instant urge to defend Lady Selina. He felt his face assume that expression – the one he used as a mask of defence, the one that young women thought dangerous and desirable. He needed to be pointed, but impeccably polite.

“I do not see her as so very different from most young ladies – perhaps a little more serious in her thinking than some. And a little more honest – a trait that I find worthy of admiration. Do you not agree that society would be a far more pleasant place if there was less gossip, snide cruelty and duplicitousness?”

Lady Phyllida’s face paled a little, and Alex was satisfied that she had taken his implication. He waited, that small sardonic smile on his lips, to see what she might say next. He walked towards the terrace doors, fulling intending to step out into the steadily falling snow for a few moments, as much to test Lady Phyllida’s tenacity as to allow the crisp cold air to clear his head.

She clung to his arm, and eyed the approaching doors with what he might have described as trepidation.

“Your Grace, perhaps you are right. But might not too much honesty also lead to hurt and insult? Surely that would not be a desirable way for society to go on?”

“Perhaps. But some might do well to learn from having truth spoken directly to them. And there are ways to present truth without cruelty.”

They had reached the doors. He set his hand upon the handle.

“Surely, Your Grace, you do not intend to go out into the cold? It is snowing!”

“Indeed it is. And yes, I do intend to step out for a few minutes of fresh air. I find that this room has become rather… oppressive and stifling.”

She looked at him, unsure whether he had meant the implication which lay in those words.

His smile widened, almost wolfish, and he bowed, gently removing her hand from his arm, and then slipped out. He did not allow the laughter to surface until he had gone to the far end of the terrace. Perhaps it was cruel of him, to make her the recipient of the sort of conversation which she often gifted to others, but he had been unable to resist once she had so pointedly attacked Lady Selina.

He could not marry that woman, he simply could not, contract or no contract – there had to be a way out.

The snow dropped soft flakes onto his skin, which melted into cold trickles that slipped between his neck and his cravat. He should go back in, or his clothes would become soaked. Just a few minutes more. The last few days he had failed to focus on his mission – he had not, at all, spent time with the other young women here, to assess them, to see if any of them appealed enough for him to even consider Warrington’s outlandish suggestion. He had been far too distracted by Lady Selina.

Lady Selina… His mind provided the memory of her in his arms, of her lips beneath his, of her moans of pleasure as his fingers caressed her breast through the thin fabric of her gown. He felt himself becoming hard. She was a perfect distraction. But… now that he considered it, could she, perhaps, also be a perfect solution? For he found that, somehow, in a few short days, he had come to the point where he could consider the idea of being married to Lady Selina with equanimity.

A scandal would certainly save both Lady Selina, and himself, from marrying those they held in distaste – but would she countenance such a thing? Could he ask it of her – an innocent with an unsullied reputation? He should not… but the idea once thought of, could not easily be unthought.

He pushed it aside for later consideration, and went back inside, brushing the snow off as he did so.

~~~~~

Selina had watched him, all day, watched Lady Phyllida cling to his side in a shameless display of grasping possessiveness, and had found herself torn between a sense of despair, a sense of anger, a sense of envy, and a desire to collapse in laughter at the dark comedy of the situation.

She had managed to maintain her composure, but not her cheer. As she politely conversed with others, Mariel’s words of the previous night kept coming back to her. What was her intent? Would she, given the chance, choose scandal over being forced to marry Lord Hockingmoor? And… even if she would, would the Duke ever consider her as suitable? She was certain that he desired her – as she desired him – but was that enough? Would he consider the risk worthwhile – the risk that a life with her might turn out just as badly as a life with Lady Phyllida?

Not that she thought that she could ever conceivably be quite that unpleasant – but – what did he think? Was he just a dangerous, sinfully handsome man, taking rakish advantage of the effect that he had on her, with no concern for her future? But if that was the case, why had he sent her back to her room, when they might have stayed in the library far longer?

She felt deeply confused. And she longed to meet him alone, again, to be kissed again, to find out the truth of his thoughts and feelings – and her own. She would have to arrange it, somehow.