Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

They say bad things happen in threes, and London was rife with talk of the latest bad things to have happened.

The most tragic, of course, had been the shocking death of Louis Ederline, the old and perverted marquess, who owned more primitive erotic art than ought to have ever been made in the first place. He left behind an innocent young wife some speculated had never been deflowered by her ancient husband—or at least deflowered in the traditional sense.

The second bad thing had befallen the favorite horse, Maid of Cadiz, in a race at Newmarket at the end of November. Not only had the thoroughbred lost, she had lost spectacularly and to an upstart at that. The winning horse was owned by the Earl of Archer, Charles Standifer, running a horse he had owned less than six months and with eighteen to one odds. His wife, Alizabet, had thrown herself into her husband’s arms after, to the shock of all. Compounding those odd and bad things, several angry and suspicious lords were still counting their losses.

The third bad thing was bound to happen sooner or later. Lady Lindley bore her bad luck stoically. Her long-time lover, Trenton James, the tenth Earl of Dahlingford, had ended their one-year arrangement amid rampant speculation and accusations. For over a week, The Tattler had been full of on dits regarding lying, cheating and certain other insinuations one could hardly countenance. Though if it was to be believed, Dahlingford was the man to do it.

Unless one lived in London during the Season. Then anything was possible.

Rather than believe her grand Christmas fete would be ruined by death, debt and debaucheries, the Duchess of Pelham thought it might be a rather spectacular evening.

She saw her husband Randall VanLandingham across the room and shot him her best smile. As he always did, he smiled back, one brow cocked with one hand braced against his hip. Other things happened in threes also.

As she made her way across the ballroom, trying to get to her husband, she congratulated herself. This was her first crush at the renovated Grosvenor Square mansion. Wall-to-wall aristocrats, titillating scandal, French and Italian Christmas cuisine, and the best of everything else.

“You look happy,” Randall said, sliding his hand about her waist and ignoring the friends beside him.

She stood to her toes and whispered, “Do you remember that naughty suggestion you had some months ago about a third person with whom to share our bed?”

“Yes?” His brow hitched a bit higher, then he glanced at her burgeoning stomach demurely covered by a shocking red satin dress put together by her favorite French modiste.

“I’ve found the perfect person for us.”

“Does this willing woman have a name?” He was cautious with his question.

“Wavy, jet-black hair. Startlingly blue eyes. Sound familiar?”

“If she is in this room, I see three or four possibilities,” he said.

“He is.”

“He!” Randall’s forehead creased.

“Trenton James. I think he would be perfect. Don’t you agree?”

“My darling wife, I will need to be as dead as Ederline before I allow that to happen. And besides, you are in no condition to give a ball let alone embrace two men in your bed.”

She leaned against him, pressing her breast to his arm and her belly to his hip. “Oh, are you sure? He could tempt the most virtuous woman to sin. Why not me?”

Randall laughed. “Because you have me. And I am enough man to overcome any of my wife’s wicked temptations.”

“Oh, we might be too late. He is whispering into another woman’s ear already,” the duchess said.

“ Another woman? Already? Well, he must be whispering the wrong things the way he misplaces his amours .”

Trenton’s breath was hot against Ember Boothe’s ear. Too hot and too close. And the crushing mob at the duke and duchess’s fabulous Christmas ball was no real excuse for Dahlingford to infringe upon her respectability, no matter their long-standing acquaintance.

He made sure his lips touched the shell of her ear. She refused to tremble, especially as she once had. She refused to capitulate or acknowledge what was once an open secret between them. But who cold blame her for quashing the intense feelings of her sixteen-year-old self when Dahl wasn’t able to give her what she really wanted from him?

Ember knew of the many wicked scandals that occurred in the ton during the season. She did not participate in such lasciviousness, preferring to maintain her honor, and boring her male acquaintances to tears. She could put out any man’s flame.

Trenton’s words were not serious; he only meant to shock her. After all, he was rarely alone, and no doubt searched for amiable companionship. She was not inclined to be sullied, in word or deed, by the likes of Trenton James, most certainly not after the ending of another of his liaisons.

“An assignation? Really, Dahl, you don’t know me at all if you think I’d submit to one of your sordid affairs.” Oh , there was a place in her heart for him and she’d had to steel herself against those feelings for years.

“It’s only sordid to the local gossips. I will make it worth your while.”

“There is not enough gold in all the world?—”

“To find such exquisite pleasure.” Dahl wagged his brows.

He was one of those men who prowled about the ballrooms of London in pursuit of pleasure, which she had no doubt he often found. Scandal clung to him like a vine. The Tattler had viciously assailed his character, or that of a certain Lord D. Everyone knew Lady Lindley’s youngest brother wrote pieces for the scandalous rag.

On the other hand, rumors resulting from his generous attention in the bedroom were flattering, but that didn’t mean she was susceptible to his lure. What with his dark nature, title and wealth, he had no trouble attracting myriad eager women who thought they had to have him. That Lady Lindley had actually kept him interested for a year was astounding.

Well, Ember did not have to have him. Him or any other man worthy of the name.

His intense gaze notwithstanding, Ember knew the man.

Face-to-face with him in the midst of the Duchess of Pelham’s ball, she did not appreciate that everyone in the room had one eye on his needlessly suggestive pose and one ear on his usually scandalous suggestions. The buzz about the room blocked most of their conversation from others except for those leading ladies who smelled a scandal brewing. Another one, that is.

She eyed Miss Lucy Muldon, who was bolder than most and had nearly pushed the elderly Lady Clara Allworthy out of her path trying to get to them. Ember wouldn’t give them the pleasure of gossiping about her submission to any of Dahlingford’s suggestions. Her spotless reputation would go with her to the grave.

Lady Lindley fanned herself on the other side of the room while entertaining younger rogues attempting to incite jealousy in Lord Dahlingford. A wasted pursuit.

“Three years is a long time, Ember. Perhaps I could alleviate some of your loneliness.”

“The children keep me busy. My life is full and complete. I don’t need you, Dahl. But more importantly, I don’t want you,” she whispered.

“Full and complete? What I had in mind would go right along with those sentiments. An appropriate amount of skill, applied with the right amount of vigor, and I might even persuade you to want me.”

Ember flicked her fan with slow patience. She conceded a smile. She wasn’t tempted in the least. Yes, he was a brazen, black-haired god. Yes, he was reputed to be a magnificent lover. However, she had been married to Gerald for over twelve years and hadn’t had a moment of satisfaction in the marriage bed. Her now dead husband had taken his quick pleasure with obscene regularity. The mechanics of it left her without feeling and, at times, thoroughly disgusted.

Honestly, it hurt, but that had never stopped Gerald from bruising her with his animalistic thrusting. Gossip with her circle of friends let her know it did not need to be that way, not that she ever revealed her true feelings about intimacy to them.

Entering marriage, she had thought she would not mind a man’s touch. After the experience with Gerald, she would rather have a slobbering poodle lick her face than submit once again to an inept lover’s touch.

She dared not think of Dahl’s caress. What if he wasn’t inept? What if she actually enjoyed it and then he threw her away much as last week’s moldy bread? She wasn’t getting any younger and Dahl seemed to enjoy women barely out of leading strings.

She tilted her head to examine the earl and stepped closer to him. “I’m not one of those silly girls you enjoy seducing. I don’t grow breathless when you draw close to me. My heart doesn’t pound erratically, my skin doesn’t tingle. You’re a man like all others. I have no doubt half the ladies in this room would swoon were you to approach them. I am immune to you, Dahl.”

“Swoon, my dear Ember. I set them afire.”

She laughed. “Oh, my! How does a woman contain herself?”

“Would you deny yourself such pleasure, all for your pride?”

His warm breath brushed the side of her face. The pleasant aroma of his supper wine and the teasing remnants of some masculine cologne wafted around her, reminding her of one certain fact: Dahlingford was a man’s man. Strong, brash, competitive. Daring.

“Pride? Don’t be silly. I am a woman above reproach. That we are friends at all is a tribute to our families’ long acquaintance, not your superficial charm.” She smiled again, intending to end the conversation. She shouldn’t have allowed it to reach this level of intimacy because Dahlingford had no morals and no inhibition, combined with the smooth manners of a charlatan and the silken reach of a many-tentacled sea creature.

Still, there were times when Dahl was there . A support and a strength. Usually when she was enduring life’s lowest moments. But those were the times when he was most like his young self. Like the person she first knew and loved.

Dahlingford had been a family friend for years. She had always ignored his reputation based on that long-standing friendship. Now that he directed his attentions toward her, she found she didn’t appreciate his superficial and temporary interest. He had tried to seduce her one other time—after Gerald had died. She’d been too wounded and grief-stricken to be anything but angry at Dahl.

She’d thought those days were long past them.

“I would like to test your theory sometime,” he said.

“My theory?”

“That you are immune to me.”

“It’s not you. It is men like you. I wouldn’t want you to think all women are such weak-willed creatures they cannot resist when you turn your attention upon them. I’m doing you a great service by reminding you not all women want you. Besides, I’ve done my duty with Gerald. I am a free woman now and I don’t need a man for fulfillment or protection. Dahl, turn your charms on someone who will welcome your efforts.”

His hand gripped her elbow. “Ember, you have so little imagination.”

“Release me. I see Lady Lindley scouting us with her usual jealous perusal. You should never have kept a mistress if you had interests elsewhere. Now if you’ll excuse me.” Ember reached for her skirt but glanced up at him at the last moment seeing for the first time Dahlingford was actually serious. His jaw clenched menacingly. If he thought that expression would soften her resolve, he was mistaken.

“Lady Lindley and I have parted ways. Don’t bring her into this.”

“How sad for you. You might have to sleep alone for a change.”

He laughed. The rare sight of his white teeth made him look all the more sinful. His usual expression was all seriousness, until he smiled and fine lines crinkled around his eyes.

Ember had allowed the conversation to proceed too far. Dahlingford needed to be told no and with determined firmness else he would pick her will to pieces with his charm and attraction. At some point, he would be clever enough to find something she wanted. What would she do then?

Loneliness had a way of eroding the best of intentions.

“Not for long. I have someone new in mind,” he said. His fierce blue-eyed gaze bore into hers. “This particular woman pretends indifference, but I’ve known too many women who say one thing and mean another.”

“Lucky girl,” she said.

“Join me in the park tomorrow. You won’t regret it.”

“I think not. I’ve already set tongues wagging just speaking with you for more than a minute.”

He leaned closer, his mouth near her ear again as if he would impart some great secret. “Do you not ache with loneliness? Does your heart not burn for some grand passion and your body cry in the night for some unnamed fulfillment? You can deny it all you want, Ember, I know the truth.”

She lowered her eyelids and clenched her jaw, his words hitting a raw nerve. “Think what you will. You have nothing I want, Dahlingford.”

One side of his mouth lifted in a devilish smile. His brow lifted in mocking disbelief. “Time will tell. Now, about that dance?”

Ember glanced over her shoulder to see the generous seven-person orchestra had begun a warm-up tune now that the midnight buffet was winding down. There was to be a second buffet at two in the morning. The duchess had hinted of an Italian sweets extravaganza.

She faced Dahlingford again. “It would be easy to lie to you and say my card is full.” She tapped his chest with her fan. “But that will only encourage you, so let me just say that if you continue this ridiculous and embarrassing pursuit, I will not be dancing with you the rest of the Season. Does Robert know you are attempting to compromise his sister?”

“I doubt you allow Robert to dictate your desires.”

She ignored his crude breach of etiquette.

“He can only try. But I don’t think he would appreciate your attempts to solicit my cooperation.” Robert was her younger brother by two years. He disliked the fact she was the oldest, and as a widow with means, Ember was nearly independent of any order he might issue in regard to her status. Still, that didn’t mean she was foolish enough to spite him to get her way or that she would succumb to a suggestion that would have no benefit to her or embarrass the family. “I have no interest in you, Dahl. Do not bother me with this again.”

Her words wiped the smile from his face. He guided his hand up her arm. “Is there someone else? A lover who satisfies you?”

“Sir! You are beyond impertinent. What has gotten into you? Have I done anything to encourage this madness?”

“Lower your voice, Ember. More than the usual gossips are glancing this way.”

Her face burned red. “And whose fault is that? I must go.”

“Please don’t,” he whispered. Again, his face showed something other than that rakish, devil-may-care air that had so many young misses and soft, desperate widows sighing. “Don’t throw another opportunity away.”

Ember did not want to revisit the past. Would not !

“I know you, Dahl. You like your fun, your pleasure. You will never get that from me. We’ve been acquaintances far too long to form any sort of attachment, most especially one that involves your need to conquer all womanhood.” How many times did she have to repeat herself? Or was she saying it so she could hear the determination in her own voice?

“Not all. Just one at the moment.”

“That’s your problem. You live for the moment without thought for the finer emotions, without a care for whom you hurt. I won’t be your next conquest. I won’t be the woman you leave behind when the moment has passed you by.”

“You didn’t always feel that way,” he said.

The past would always bind them. The past would always keep them apart.

He opened his mouth to defend himself further, but she jumped in. “And furthermore, don’t make any claims that it wouldn’t be that way with me . That’s what men like you do. They lie to get what they want, and frankly, I don’t have the tolerance for your practiced seduction. Turn around,” she said. “See that vast ocean of womanhood, gracefully swanning about the room? Use your charms on one of them.”