Page 21 of Scandal's Virgin


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‘What choice had I?’ she flung at him and moved away, out of the light where he had her pinned like a moth against a lantern. ‘You know perfectly well I would have ruined both my daughter and myself if I had kept her.’

‘Of course I know that, but you could have gone to his family.’

‘And what good would that have done?’ Laura enquired. She groped her way to the balustrade and gripped the cool stonework, the dried lichen rough against the fine kid of her long gloves. ‘His mother died shortly after he joined the army. There was no one to go to.’

‘There was me. I came back.’ Avery must have moved as she did, for he was very close now, the lepidopterist ready to skewer the captive moth with a long pin now she was fluttering, helpless.

‘And what would you have done, pray?’

‘Married you,’ he said.

‘Married me? Why? Why would you have helped me?’

‘I would have not crossed the road for you,’ Avery said dismissively. ‘I would have done it for Piers and for his child.’

‘Easy to say now,’ Laura jibed. Inside she quaked. Where did the brave, defiant words come from? She was shaking so much she could hardly stand.

‘You would not recognise a sense of honour if you fell over it.’ The anger had finally surfaced and cracked his control. ‘You sent the baby to the other end of the country to be brought up as a poor farmer’s daughter. You had no intention of keeping watch over her, simply of getting rid of an embarrassing encumbrance. You might have found her a good home close at hand, but that is too late now. You will stay away from Alice, do you understand me?’

‘Or what?’

‘Or your reputation will suffer for it. It is bad enough as it is, but I doubt even Scandal’s Virgin could ride out that storm.’ His lip curled. ‘And that’s the most inaccurate by-name I have ever heard.’

‘If you betray my secret, then you ruin Alice,’ Laura countered. ‘No one would forget that story. All your scheming to make her eligible and respectable would go out of the window simply because of your spite against me. We are at check, my lord. If Alice is in London, then I will see her, even if you prevent me speaking to her.’

‘I’ll not let you near her. If you had loved her, you would have stayed in touch with the family you sent her to, not left her for six years and then arrived to play with her emotions on some whim.’ All that hard-learned control had deserted him, she realised. Avery took a precipitate step closer, trapping her against the balustrade as Lord Newlyn had done.

‘You cannot stop me—’ Laura began. She had no idea what she was going to say, what she was going to do, for he took all her options away from her. His hands on her shoulders locked around the narrow bones as he pulled her towards him. Then his mouth took hers in a kiss that held nothing of sensuality or even simple arousal. This was punishment, anger, scorn and his own frustration at her defiance.

Laura stamped and kicked as Avery bent her back against the stonework. It took a few seconds to realise that there was cool air all around her, that his weight was gone, his hands had released her. ‘There is no need to scream,’ Avery said, his voice like a lash. ‘I would not touch you again for any consideration I could imagine. Respectable widows are one thing, selfish pleasure-seeking chits are quite another. To think I was under the illusion I was rescuing you just now.’ His laugh jarred, totally without humour. ‘Just believe that I will do whatever it takes to protect what is mine—and Alice is mine in every sense that matters.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him that she’d had no intention of trying to see Alice again, that she had resolved to leave her child in his care because she believed that was best for Alice. But now…now she would not admit that and let him think he had frightened her away, not if it killed her. Laura ran the back of her hand over her mouth and fixed him with a dagger glare that simply bounced off his disdain.

‘We are all in London,’ she said with a calm that belied her quaking knees. ‘Unless you want to make a mystery of Alice and have people sayi

ng you are ashamed of her and want to hide her, then there is every chance I will see her again. I will not approach her because that would confuse her, but believe me, if I ever have the slightest suspicion that she is not happy, that you are not the loving father to her that you purport to be, then I will make such a scandal you would not believe and I will fight you in the courts for her.’

Laura gathered her long skirts in one hand and turned towards the house with all the poise of one of society’s darlings. ‘I will be watching you, Lord Wykeham. Never forget it.’ She swept through the doors into the reception room again, into the heat and light and noise and almost stumbled with shock to find that this other world was continuing just feet from that encounter.

‘There you are!’ The dowager rapped on the floor with her cane as though she was rapping knuckles. ‘Sent Newlyn to his rightabouts, I see. Good girl, he’s a here-and-thereian, not worth dallying on the terrace with that one.’ She looked around the room. ‘Now where has he gone?’

‘Newlyn, ma’am?’ The astringent old bat was as effective as a splash of cold water in the face.

‘No, you silly chit. Wykeham.’

‘The Earl of Wykeham?’ Had she gone white or scarlet? Was her face a picture of guilt? She felt as though the pressure of Avery’s mouth must have branded her. Surely anyone looking at her would see her lips were swollen from his kisses?

‘There’s only the one. He’d do for you. Rank, money, good brain, although he’s encumbered with that by-blow he insists on acknowledging. He won’t do for some innocent girl straight out of the schoolroom, but you’ve enough town bronze to carry off that little embarrassment without any silliness. Eh? Men will be men.’

‘Indeed they will, ma’am.’ Laura agreed grimly. ‘Will you excuse me? I feel quite exhausted—I am not yet used to town hours again.’

As she made her way to the exit she heard the old lady cackle behind her. ‘No stamina, today’s young misses. None at all.’

Chapter Nine

Damn it, I’m shaking. Avery summoned up every inch of control he possessed, thanked his hostess for a charming evening and strode out into the lobby. He looked down at his hands and willed them to stillness. He did not know what it was: fury at Laura Campion’s deceit and defiance, the urge to shake the breath out of her or sheer frustrated lust. All three, he supposed.

Who the devil did he think he was punishing with that kiss? He was the one who was going to spend the night tossing and turning in frustration, not that deceitful, selfish woman.

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