Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Trenton stared after Ember as she sailed away from him with graceful aplomb. Her hips caused the shimmery material of her skirt to undulate, throwing off tiny shards of light that looked as if there were diamonds sewn into the fabric of her gown.

Her statuesque beauty made her appear goddess-like—graceful, powerful, sensual. She wasn’t at all embarrassed she stood over most of the women in the ballroom. His reoccurring fantasy involved a complete revealing of her long legs and having those same legs locked around his waist while he pumped into her body.

He could count on one hand the number of women who had rejected his advances.

His first, Tilly Irwin, when he was seven and she’d just finished feeding the stable kittens. When he had attempted to kiss her, she dumped the leftover milk on him, and he’d had to explain to his mother why he smelled like the dairy barn.

The second? The Right Honorable Lady Chester, Ember Boothe. Baroness. Widow. The only other woman with any sort of will. When she was sixteen, she’d turned her back on him the first time. She hadn’t changed, not really. But he suspected it was more about her unwillingness to forgive him.

He plucked his watch from the vest pocket of his waistcoat. Lady Lindley’s gaze still rested on him, but he walked away. She would only need the barest of encouragement to fall into his bed once again, but he had moved on while she had not. Granted, it had only been a week.

That was the trouble with mistresses. He never entered into a liaison with the idea of permanency and was always quite clear on that matter. For some reason, his mistress du jour inevitably believed she could change him. He’d allowed this relationship to go on too long.

But his experience did nothing to shed light on Ember’s firm denial.

He had known her for years. Time, surely, had softened her view of him and all that had happened those long years ago.

He had desired her forever—most recently since her husband’s death and the end of her mourning. And before. Before everything.

He had hinted around for several weeks but she had pretended disinterest. His idylle with Lady Lindley likely had something to do with it.

Ember was one of the true ladies of the ton and he had always been unsure of her adamant objections to such a proposal. He presumed she believed his suggestions were ribald humor when in fact he had been dead serious.

Tonight, he had asked her outright. Perhaps the timing was all wrong because there was no way in hell he believed he couldn’t charm her into his bed.

He had every confidence in himself, so there had to be another reason. Claudia Morton ? They’d never talked about her. And Ember didn’t know all that truth. The horrible truth of their betrothal. Her death in the carriage. Horrible! He did all he could to keep those memories dulled, including drinking to excess when he knew he shouldn’t.

Fine, beautiful Ember must have another lover. It was the only explanation for her cool response to his suggestion. In the past ten years, he could not think of a woman he had had to actually approach. They all came to him for his bedroom favors. It wasn’t just that he knew what to do with his cock— he knew what to do with a woman. Not that he minded the illicit pursuits, but asking Ember was akin to admitting he’d lost some of his charm.

Which he hadn’t. Ergo, she was hiding something.

A lover was the most likely possibility. He glanced around the room to see the usual males casting glances toward any beautiful or available woman. Ember turned her fair share of heads. She always had.

That she could keep a secret only added to her intrigue. She was as mysterious as he was immoral. They would be perfect together. She could hide their intemperate affair behind her denials while she rode her moral high horse, and he would go on shagging her until he was tired of their tryst. Christ , she was right about his immorality that he could think in such thin, unfeeling terms about her .

Of course, he had to get her into bed first. Only a minor detail when considering his previous successes.

Susan Harleston caught his gaze as she strolled through the garden door on the opposite side of the room. Who better to inadvertently expose Lady Chester’s secrets than her dearest friend?

Trent strolled across the room until he stood behind Lady Danforth. “You look ravishing tonight, Susan.”

She flinched, nearly spilling her drink, and then turned to face him, ignoring the minor baron who provided her escort. “Dahlingford. What do you want?”

“Information. Excuse us, Jennings,” he said, steering her away.

Their affair two years ago had been short-lived because she’d worried incessantly that her husband, Albert Harleston, the Earl of Danforth, would somehow discover their liaison. He’d never quite convinced himself that bedding another woman whilst he had a mistress—the mistress before Lady Lindley—counted as cheating.

Ember would scold him for such a lecherous attitude.

Danforth neared his sixtieth birthday. Trent didn’t think Lord Danforth was aware of much beyond his horses and hounds. Trent was glad to have an excuse to end the affair with her since it didn’t involve his usual curt dismissal and the corresponding charges of his being a jackass.

He didn’t care he was considered a cad. It was better than allowing himself to feel.

Trent supported Susan’s arm as he guided her away from the throngs.

“What information?” she asked.

“I want to know who Lady Chester is bedding.”

Susan jerked her arm away with determined force. He kept pace with her as she stepped onto the balcony leading to the rose garden below.

Once they were alone, she faced him with her not inconsiderable wrath. Trent knew Lady Danforth was ruled by her emotions and had no control of her tongue. He’d experienced it firsthand. “Ember? No. Is it not enough you’ve had every woman in London? Must you now set your sights on someone who is truly too good for you?”

“Not every .”

“Leave her alone. She is not for you.” She rolled her eyes. “Dahl, I swear I will never forgive you if you hurt her. She isn’t the type of woman to enjoy your favors even if you could seduce her. She’d never forgive herself for submitting, so don’t go near her. She’d hate herself and then she would hate you.”

“You’re not denying she has lover.”

“You are not listening. There is nothing to deny. She has been utterly alone since her husband died. And her reputation is above reproach.”

“So everyone tells me.” All these adamant denials convinced him Lady Chester was more than discreet.

“Is that all?”

“Look, Susan. There is no way you’ll make me believe Lady Chester is tucked in bed at night with only her flannel night rail and silk pillowcases. She is too much of a woman to be alone.”

“She told you no, didn’t she?” Susan laughed, enjoying his temporary dilemma. “Half of the room saw you whispering sweet nothings in her ear tonight. Her rejection is no more than you deserve. Once she decides, she doesn’t change her mind.”

“She had to say no. Did you think she was going to agree to my suggestion whilst standing in the middle of Lady Pelham’s ballroom? I merely placed the idea in her mind,” he reasoned. “If I could have caught her below the mistletoe, I would have.”

Susan huffed and folded her arms over her chest. “She will never have you, Dahl. Don’t embarrass her.”

“It is impossible to dishonor a widow. Two adults enjoying a personal engagement—it would be our business alone.”

“Until the other half, not in attendance tonight, found out—which they would—and then the entire ton would know.”

“So, you are saying there is no one? She doesn’t have a current lover?”

“You’re assuming Ember tells me everything. She doesn’t. Just like I don’t tell her everything about my life. You know how secretive she is.”

“Yes, and I also know why you want to keep your secrets.”

“Albert doesn’t deserve to be hurt,” she replied.

Trent couldn’t believe Ember hadn’t whispered something about her private life. That’s what women did. Stitchery and gossip. Shopping and gossip. It is why the ton was overburdened with parties, soirees and musicals—so the women could gossip.

He glanced back into the ballroom to see that plenty of heads bobbed, tickling itchy ears. Men and women. And that was why there were gaming dens and hells, so the men could gossip.

He wasn’t getting anywhere. Maybe Susan was more than the empty-headed girl he believed. Perhaps she was trustworthy enough to guard Ember’s secrets.

As he watched the undulating, heaving movements inside the ballroom, Ember waltzed by on the arms of a duke from Lancashire. There were no telltale signs that would indicate an inappropriate relationship. Nor had there been clues with any other man either.

Now that he was committed to winning her over, Dahlingford began to categorize everything he knew about her, which was substantial. He was even the godfather for her eldest son—at the behest of her mother who’d also been wounded by the past and sentimental about what might have been.

One by one, he would break into her world and become a fixture in it until she thought about him night and day. Once that happened, he could pluck her like a ripe peach.

What Dahlingford wanted, he obtained.

Right now, he wanted Ember more than he wanted to relieve himself into the body of the next woman who offered.

That he loved her intemperately had nothing to do with his current quest to bed her. She would never love him back, but Dahl could keep the emotion separate from the action. Long ago, he’d given up on her ever returning a scintilla of feeling for him.

Susan wrapped her arm into his and he gazed into her eyes, seeing the usual signs of desire. “Dahl, forget about Ember for tonight. Meet me at the upstairs landing in five minutes. Please?”

Her hand brushed underneath his jacket and slid over his ass.

“Whatever the lady desires,” he said. Well, his pursuit of Ember could wait another night. His burgeoning erection couldn’t.

After all, having Susan was nearly as good as having Ember, since that’s who he’d be thinking about.

At the upstairs landing, he saw her enter a far chamber, presumably empty except for the three of them: he, Susan and Ember’s ethereal presence.

He’d waited for Ember. At times, patient. Other times, suicidal. Her marriage might as well have been the convent—a sacred place he would never breech. For all his scandals, he’d never slept?—

Yes, he had slept with a married woman, and he was about to do it again. If he remembered rightly, he’d welcomed the opportunity for about the same reasons as tonight.

Wine, women and song provided temporary relief. He kept telling himself it was temporary. Just until Ember.

Once inside, Susan met him, hands on her hips. “I am most serious about this, Dahl. Ember isn’t for you.”

“I’ve been known to charm the knickers off the most reticent,” he said.

“You selfish, selfish man.”

“Why? Because I do in the open what other men do in secret?”

“Well, not this time. I’m here because I wanted you away from Ember and I will do my utmost to make sure she never acquiesces to your sordid demands.”

“I thought you wanted a quick shag.”

“Heavens, no! I want you to have an examination of heart. And until you do, stay away from my friend.”

“Oh, you must come. Pelham says we will have the largest country party of the season,” the Duchess of Pelham said. “We’ll have a time until Twelfth Night. All the best food, drink and people. Yule logs, sweets, carolers. And Rand has promised a real tree this year, modelled after one of Queen Charlotte’s. Of course, there will be all manner of eligible men, Lady Chester, and mistletoe in every corner.”

Ember laughed, but she couldn’t stop the heat from suffusing her face. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Bring the children. I know that will be your excuse. Ours, and myriad others, will be there and they would love the company.”

Ember sat in the library with the duchess. The party had ended around four in the morning and a few friends sat together reminiscing about the evening. Behind her, her brother played billiards with the duke, both looking rakish with loosened cravats and mussed hair. Ember had a sudden longing to find Robert a wife. He deserved some happiness and stability in his life. And he needed his heirs. Their cousin Claudel was entirely too careless to be the next Viscount North.

Dahlingford had been the only dark cloud in her day. She was both offended and hurt he had been so rudely forward. Perhaps it was her pride that had been wounded—he had actually believed her capable of such wicked behavior. She had young boys to raise to manhood. She didn’t need Dahl’s kind of trouble.

Whatever it was, her chest still ached from the anxiety his words caused.

“Tell me yes,” the duchess said, reaching for Ember’s hand. “I need beautiful single women to complete the numbers. Robert has agreed to attend.”

“He has? He didn’t mention it.”

“I promised him beautiful single women and he finally agreed. For you, only the most eligible men. I promise.”

“It would be lovely to be in the country, I must admit. Frosted grass and blowing leaves. The boys would love the hunting and horse riding.”

“Maybe they would love some snow, too,” the duchess said. “Say yes.”

Ember wanted to go. She hadn’t been to a house party since before Gerald died. She should. She had been alone for too long, and it was time to think about her future. “Yes, of course. I would be delighted.”

“What would delight you, Lady Chester?” Dahlingford asked, strolling up behind Ember’s chair. He gave a quick bow. “May I join you?”

“You must, you beautiful man. And did all of the ladies swoon at your feet tonight, Trenton, now that you are available again?” asked the duchess, preening from the attention, as he kissed the back of her hand. She wrinkled her nose, a sort of flirty look, to tell him she was pleased.

“Alas, there were a few who did not succumb to my charm.”

He sat in the chair beside Ember. The glass he held was empty and he set it on the small table between them.

“Dahlingford, might I get you another drink?” the duchess asked, as she awkwardly pushed to her feet. Was she attempting to matchmake by leaving them together? The party was hers alone and planned to the letter. The Duchess of Pelham was likely aware of every nuanced conversation in her ballroom.

Ember tensed. She did not want to be alone with him so soon after his shocking proposal. She felt as if she didn’t know him. Or more likely, that she was aware of only one lurid aspect of his nature. How different they had been in their halcyon days.

“Brandy, please,” he said.

The duchess waved over a footman who collected his glass, then she excused herself. She stopped at the billiards table and inquired of her husband and Robert, knowing just what men wanted. Anne VanLandingham was as comfortable with men as she was in her French fashionable dresses and outré flirtations.

Ember did not have a natural way with men.

She’d married young, had little opportunity to flirt, and once the vows were spoken, realized she did not understand men at all. It was easier to pretend she had no interest than to fumble around and make a fool of herself.

“I understand the duke and duchess plan to host a magnificent party,” he said. “I’ve heard the hunting is to be envied, but then you could not care less about such manly pursuits. I, for one, am going to enjoy ten days in the country. What about you?”

Her heart clipped too fast, and she rubbed her hand over her neck.

“Are you ill, Em? You’ve gone pale.” He pushed up from his seat.

“No, I’m fine. Do sit, Dahl. I wouldn’t want you to burst the seam of your pants in your hurry to aid me.” She sucked in a deep breath. “I didn’t know you were invited to Redfield.”

“Eligible earls are invited to every party, but alas, I am unable to attend them all. I am such a disappointment to so many hostesses, but I will do my best to dazzle the duchess.”

“If I decide to attend, I will be busy assisting with the nursery children.”

“That’s what one pays a governess for, Ember. Besides you’ll make them little mama’s boys if you continue to coddle them.”

Ember bristled at his words. How often had she worried the same thing? Who would be there to guide her sons to manhood?

Robert? By then, he would be too busy with his own children.

Dahlingford? Her eldest son’s godfather? A family friend? She did not need such an influence on her boys. Unfortunately, she did not know Dahl’s true character prior to becoming Evert’s guiding influence.

“My sons will grow into fine young men, and they will have my undivided attention when they need it. You of all people should appreciate the need for a mother.”

“Is that your way of getting back at me for what I said earlier?” he asked.

Ember was one of the few who’d been near when the carriage accident had happened. She hung her head, ashamed she had mentioned something so painful to Dahlingford. “No.”

“And I should apologize. It was a private matter that should have been asked in a more suitable environment.”

“You shouldn’t have asked at all. I have no interest in such a liaison. You know this. ”

He glanced toward the duchess and then leaned forward, bracing his arms against his knees. “Ember, what is your objection? I promise I would make you happy while we are together. I’ve made many women just like you very happy.”

“Is that supposed to impress me? The number of women you’ve bedded? I assure you it does not.”

“I’m only trying to say I’m not a bumbling idiot when it comes to pleasuring a woman.”

“No, but you are a bumbling idiot when it comes to understanding what a woman truly wants.”

“It’s just a temporary liaison, Ember. It’s not as if you are a virgin.”

“Dahlingford, when did you become such an ass?”

“When did you become such a self-righteous prude?”

“Because I won’t share your bed? I am being honorable and a credit to my family’s name.”

Ember leaned back in the chair, staring at him. His sharp words dug into her like the barb of a bee sting. The words hurt more than they should have, probably because they were true. Did he not understand she could not be that woman ? The woman who lacked principles? The woman who put her needs before anyone else’s? It was not part of her being. It never would be.

Just as she knew Dahl was right about her being prudish, she also knew Dahl would never be able to seduce her into his bed. First, she liked to think she knew her own mind. The other reasons were too numerous to mention. Dahl seemed quite willing to ignore them all to get his way.

“Ember, I’m sorry. You are making this more difficult than necessary. Look around, it happens all the time.”

“In your world, I’m sure it does. Respect my wishes, Dahlingford. I don’t want that kind of attention from you.”

“I’ve never known a woman who can resist an appeal to her vanity. I want you, Ember. Does that not count for something?”

“Your false words are making this too easy for me. No. And that’s my final answer.”

“What’s this? An argument amongst friends,” the duchess said as she returned to them. “Here, my darling Trenton. More of Pelham’s finest liquor.” A footman had returned with her, carrying drinks for them all.

“Thank you, Your Grace.” He sipped at the drink, eyeing Ember over the rim of the glass.

“I did as you asked, Trenton. Lady Lindley was removed from my party list and dear Ember will be filling her spot,” the duchess said.

Ember glared at Dahl. “You asked her to invite me?”

“Oh, no, no, Lady Chester.” The duchess patted Ember’s leg. “Your brother suggested it once Trenton advised me of his status as a free man. Though if you ask me, Lady Lindley was not the woman for you.” She directed her comments to Dahl. “You need someone a little more mature. Lady Lindley was much too young for you. What are you now? Forty?”

“Thirty-two, Your Grace.”

“Why, you’ve simply got years to settle down. Years . However, you should never stop looking. One never knows when the perfect woman may happen along. There must be dozens of women whom you could marry, should you be so inclined. Yes, it’s definitely for the best you’ve separated from Lady Lindley. You should be thinking about marriage and my house party is the perfect place to begin your search. Don’t you think so, Lady Chester? Surely, if we put our heads together, we can find him a pretty young thing who would hang on his every word. What with a woman your age, you would be the perfect chaperone.”

Ember enjoyed watching Dahl squirm until the duchess directed her comments back at her. “Middle age can be such a trying time for women. Your widowed status and your maturity, yes, the perfect chaperone.” The duchess nodded, as if she were the sole purveyor of wisdom.

“Middle age?” Ember choked a little. She was not yet twenty-nine. She had plenty of good years left. She glanced at Dahl.

He winked back at her.

“I’m sure the young ladies at your party will be properly chaperoned, especially if their mothers hear Dahlingford will be there,” Ember concluded.