The Perfect Scandal. Delilah Marvelle

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СКАЧАТЬ strode out of the parlor, tackled the sweeping length of stairs, taking two steps at a time, and upon reaching the landing, veered right. He passed door after closed door, until he paused at the second to the last, leading into her bedchamber.

      Drawing in a deep, calming breath, he knocked. “‘Tis me,” he called out. “Moreland.”

      Only silence pulsed. Grabbing the round brass handle, he turned it and edged the door open. The heavy scent of rose water clung to the stagnant air. His boots echoed as he made his way into the large bedchamber. He stepped over the upset silver tray, mashed food and shattered porcelain, his eyes drifting past the blue-gold pinstriped silk wallpaper and the oversized four-poster bed.

      He paused, noting the curvaceous, tall figure, dressed in an embroidered cobalt gown, lingering before the lattice window. His grandmother stared out, angling herself just enough for him to glimpse the regal profile of her powdered face and her mass of snowy-white pin curls.

      She didn’t turn or acknowledge him. No doubt because she was displeased with him for being late.

      He sighed and closed the remaining distance between them. “Is there a need to be so harsh with Miss Henderson? The poor woman was in tears.”

      “I was not harsh with her at all,” she quibbled in an overly dry tone. “I was merely pointing out that I do not appreciate my heirloom china being smashed into countless shards I cannot use.”

      He rolled his eyes. “If that is the worst she will ever do as a servant, be grateful. I once had all of my silver swiped.”

      “Oh, that will come next, I am sure. I may have to dismiss her. She is far too emotional for my liking. I cannot even rationally point anything out to the woman without her blubbering at every turn.”

      “If you dismiss Miss Henderson, there will be no one left to serve you, let alone answer the door. I suggest you offer her a bit more compassion. She is being sorely overworked and, knowing you, probably underpaid.”

      “I advise you not to be foolish enough to actually defend one of my own servants to me. I pay her very well. In fact, I pay her more than I should.”

      He sighed. “I suggest we make better use of our time. I have to leave earlier than usual today.”

      She hesitated but still didn’t turn. “Why? You always dedicate Tuesdays to me.”

      Yes, and even that was sometimes a bit too much dedication on his part. “The House of Lords will be swearing in the Duke of Norfolk, Lord Clifford and Lord Dormer today. I intend to show my support by making an appearance.”

      A brittle laugh escaped her lips. “Show your support to the Catholics, indeed. Low-hanging fruit is all they are. No good will ever come from giving such men seats.”

      “You sound like a damn bigot. Reducing religious discrimination reflects the moral progress of a nation.”

      “Ah, yes. You always were an idealist, Moreland. Much like your father.” She set her chin and continued to gaze out the window. “So, why are you late? You never are.”

      He cleared his throat, not wanting to think about why he had overslept. “Forgive me. I was behind schedule.”

      She glanced at him from over her shoulder, her arched silver brows rising. “You never stray from your schedule. It would be like a bird displacing its wings.” Her voice was patient, warm and steady, as it always was when addressing him. “Who is she?”

      He dragged in a breath, knowing if he admitted having any interest in a woman, it would only rile his grandmother into investigating his neighbor’s entire life, right down to the cosmetic creams she wore. “You are assuming far too much. I was merely slow to rise.”

      “You haven’t been slow to rise in thirteen years, Moreland.” She snickered suggestively. “I only hope whatever is responsible for your … unease will cease vexing you.”

      He would either have to move or marry his neighbor for her to stop vexing him.

      His grandmother turned toward him, the long lace sleeves of her muslin gown shifting against her wrists. Dark, playful eyes met his. Raking the length of his body, she sighed. “Why do you never put any effort into your appearance, Moreland? You always wear far too much gray. And if it is not gray, it is black. Can you not invest in some … color?”

      He set his gloved hands behind his back and strategically set his booted feet wide apart to better display all his gray. “I dress for comfort. Not entertainment purposes. If the good Lord had wanted me to be a peacock, he would have made me a peacock, don’t you think?”

      “Let us move on to a more notable matter of importance, shall we?”

      He smirked. “By all means.”

      She folded her hands before her as if trying to settle on how she ought to begin lecturing him. “During my usual weekly inquiries into society, I was astounded to hear that my dear, respectable grandson had been secretly vying for a certain woman in a most unconventional manner. A woman who, by the by, has undergone several Seasons untouched for reasons relating to some ruined fop in Venice. Why did you not inform me of your interest in Lady Victoria? Is it because you knew I would disapprove?”

      He tightened his jaw and tried to remind himself that she was the only relative he had left, and that she loved him. Or at least she tried to love him. “I will admit that Lady Victoria has always fascinated me, and when the opportunity to vie for her was presented, I was intrigued enough to pursue it. I was never meant to live alone. You know that. Unlike you, I prefer sharing conversations and meals with someone other than myself.”

      “Do not chastise me. This has nothing to do with my objecting to you taking a wife. I am objecting to your choices.”

      “Same thing.”

      “I don’t want you associating with that family. You need a good, stable alliance.”

      He glared at her. “Lord Linford was my father’s closest friend. He also offered support when everyone else chose to toss gossip. Be mindful of that. From what I understand, the poor man’s life is at an end and he doesn’t have much longer to live.”

      She lowered her chin but didn’t break her unwavering gaze. “Are you privy as to why?”

      He glanced away, sensing she already knew what he did. Lord Linford was dying of syphilis. “I have heard rumors.”

      “They are not rumors. He is wasting away. Do you truly mean to inform me, Moreland, that watching your own father-in-law die of the pox appeals to your sensible tastes?”

      It really was astounding how much gossip the woman always managed to unearth about him and everyone else, considering she never left the house. Of course, thanks to the death of his grandfather, her wealth now well exceeded his own. And with her also being cousin to the King—and a favorite cousin, at that—her hold on London society was as firm as ever. With the toss of a word and a few banknotes to the right person, she was able to play God with everyone’s life. Including his own. “I am endlessly astonished to hear that all of your inquiries failed to inform you that Lady Victoria was already wed by special license to that ‘ruined fop’ from Venice you were just yerking about. So you needn’t worry about her and me.”

      Her stern features СКАЧАТЬ