Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

“What did Dahlingford want from you last night?” Susan asked.

Ember stood in the foyer of her small townhouse, slipping on a pair of riding gloves. “Dahl was his usual frivolous self. I hope he finds a mistress soon. He makes the silliest of decisions when he is alone.”

“Such as…?”

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming by this morning? Robert and I are riding in the park,” Ember said.

“You have no other plans?” Susan asked.

“Well, once we return, I plan to take the children to the British Museum.”

“And later?”

“Susan, what is it you want to know? You know my life as well as anyone.” Ember turned to the door and glanced over her shoulder. “Come along. Robert is waiting. Did you want to shop this afternoon?”

“No.”

“Well, why are you here?”

“Is it so wrong to want to see my dearest friend?”

Ember stopped and clutched Susan’s hand. Her best friend in the entire world, since they’d had their come outs the same year.

“You seem so out of sorts. What is it, dear? Is Albert ignoring you?” Ember asked.

“No. A touch of ennui perhaps.”

“You can change into one of my riding dresses. Do come along. The three of us haven’t ridden together in ages.” Ember turned toward the door, and the lone footman swung the door wide.

Instead of seeing Robert mounted on his horse, her gaze immediately caught sight of Dahlingford riding tall and ramrod straight in his leather saddle, his horse chomping and snorting at being restrained. Robert stood beside his horse. The invitation to ride with them was clear.

Ember narrowed her eyes. Dahl happened to glance at her and shot her a dazzling smile. She doubted he’d even been to bed yet this morning, but he was turned out in brown leather riding boots, perfect-fitting doeskin breeches and a smart green jacket, looking for all the world as if he owned the place.

“You didn’t mention Dahl was riding with you,” Susan said, near Ember’s side.

“I didn’t mention it because I didn’t know. Are you sure you don’t want to come along? A trio is so awkward,” she said. After last night’s scurrilous request, she would not trust him or his motives. Robert was oblivious to Dahlingford’s behavior. Or he secretly approved of it.

“I’ll be ten minutes,” Susan said. Ember felt Susan’s skirts as she whirled away.

“Good morning, Lady Chester,” Dahl said from the saddle, glancing in that intimate sort of way, perusing her attire and her shape and her mood.

“Dahlingford.” She nodded and then glanced at her brother. “Robert, you didn’t tell me we’d have company. I thought this was a family outing.”

Robert leaned and kissed her cheek. “I didn’t want to be rude,” he whispered in her ear.

“Why not? Dahlingford is the pattern card for rude.”

Her brother choked back a laugh.

“And could you have another horse prepared? Susan is here and will ride with us.”

Robert handed the reins of his horse to her and strode toward the house to send a footman to the mews. Once she regained her composure, Ember glanced back at the annoying Dahlingford. She hoped he had a headache from last night’s drinking and his lack of sleep. “Is it not wonderful to be up so early? Riding can be so invigorating.”

“Depends on your riding partner,” he said.

“As much as I’d like to believe your appearance here is completely coincidental, I’m not so gullible.”

“My secret’s out.”

“What can I say to put a stop to this odd quest?” she asked.

“Say yes.”

Ember forced a smile and turned to her horse. She ran a gloved hand down the bay’s flank. “In a week, you will find some other entertainment, so why not just go away now and save us both the trouble and embarrassment? We’ve always been friends, Dahlingford. Why ruin it now?”

He leaned toward her, his arm braced against his leg. The long leather reins hung loose in his fingers. “The easy way is often the boring way. I like a little excitement in my life and in my women.”

“And women fall for that sort of tripe? I would think you should mention how beautiful my eyes are, or that my skin glows in the morning light.”

“After I’ve bedded you the first time, I would be happy to say all those things. And more.”

“I can already tell this ride is going to be exhausting. Do keep up this line of conversation so Robert can call you out tomorrow morning and put us all out of our misery.”

Dahlingford laughed heartily. Susan saved her from further conversation. Once Dahl noticed her descending the outside staircase, he clamped his jaw shut. Ember had heard the gossip about Susan and Dahlingford, but she did not want to know anything about it, nor had Susan tried to explain.

After a few more minutes of polite talk, Robert returned with another mount, assisted both women into their sidesaddles and they rode toward the park.

Ember maneuvered her horse away from Dahlingford, allowing Susan to ride beside him while she rode behind him and enjoyed the time to examine him without his return scrutiny. Of course, he was much more courteous with Susan. They talked about the weather. Beside her, Robert seemed absorbed in his own thoughts.

She wasn’t one to ogle and admire every male form who passed through her line of sight. She hated that she could understand why women were drawn to the earl. He was so much more than other men. And this morning, he looked every inch the decadent, unrepentant rake.

Maybe her real dispute with Dahl was that she knew he would never change. Lady Lindley had been his seventh mistress in five years. The Tattler provided detailed facts.

They galloped down Rotten Row along with numerous other early morning riders. Both men used their boots and whips with skillful efficiency while she and Susan kept their horses at a more sedate and controlled run. The air brushed at Ember’s face, cooling her and calming the irritation she felt with Dahl, having basically invited himself along for their ride.

It was nearly humorous to think he had an interest in her. Being called a prude really was a compliment, to her way of thinking.

Maybe she was even a little flattered. Dahlingford wanting to bed a widow, a mother of three and a long-time acquaintance like her? Truly, had he already bedded his way through the entire ton ? Was he now down to the last woman and it was her turn to receive the benefit of his largess?

That seemed most likely. What could he see in her? Yes, her breasts may have been somewhat larger, but perhaps not quite as firm. Her bottom and legs were still at their best—firm and shapely-looking in the saddle and in her revealing skirts. All those visits to the park with the children, the riding and avoiding those delectable tarts Cook made, except indulgences on special occasions, all had helped her to retain her figure. Those few lines around her eyes were bothersome though.

And she was a little too tall.

Tosh, what was she doing? Assessing her womanly attributes the way Dahl might? Planning on some forbidden rendezvous? It wasn’t as if Dahlingford, or any other man for that matter, would get to see her naked and provide his own assessment of her worth as a woman. Besides, who knew to what men were actually attracted? She had seen some of the most amazingly unsuitable partnerships flourish.

Look at Ederline’s marchioness—Sarah seemed utterly devoted to that old goat to whom she had married, God rest his soul.

It was the unexpected attention. That was it. She enjoyed Dahlingford’s perusal because it meant, on some level, she was still desirable to a man.

And what woman breathing did not enjoy such attention?

Susan pulled up on the reins and her horse came to a stop. Ember slowed and with a quick flick of her wrist had her horse turned around. “What is it?” she asked.

Susan patted the side of the horse’s withers, while glancing downward. The horse pawed its hoof in the well-churned sod. “I think my horse threw a shoe.”

Robert and Dahlingford raced toward them and pulled up dangerously close as their horses, sides heaving and nostrils flaring, stamped in irritation at the sudden restriction.

“Shoe?” Robert asked. He dismounted still holding the reins of his horse. Squatting, he lifted the lame horse’s leg and confirmed the obvious. He pushed up, flung the reins over his horse’s neck and reached for Susan. “I’ll walk you home.”

“I’ll put your horse through its paces, if you wish to stay, Lady Chester,” Dahlingford offered.

“That’s not necessary,” Ember responded automatically.

“Unless you’re tired?”

Ember heard the goading nudge. Her face flushed. She knew what he was doing, edging her, pushing her toward his goals, knowing she would push back. “Why would I be tired? I sleep well when I’m abed.”

Dahlingford went further. “North, we’ll be home in less than an hour. I’ll see to your sister.”

Robert mumbled his thanks. Susan stood for a moment, glancing between her and Dahlingford. He ignored them both, expecting to get his way and succeeding.

The two of them watched Robert and Susan depart. A shiver passed through Ember, wondering about a man who so casually used situations to his benefit, not even considering her wishes.

“Don’t look so put out, Lady Chester. You planned to ride this morning and ride you shall.”

She guided the reins along her horse’s neck, and it responded with a quick turn away from Dahl. His horse sauntered in beside her. “Are you always so adept at maneuvering situations to your benefit?” she asked.

“It comes from years of practice. When I see something I want, I take advantage of any and every opportunity.”

“I’ve heard Lady Forsythe has been seeking a new lover since Sebring died. I’m sure she would treat you well.”

“I’m sure Lady Forsythe wouldn’t know what to do with a man who didn’t sleep through dinner.”

“Perhaps you can enlighten her. Oh, and then there’s Lady Tipton. She takes a new lover every year, about as often as you do. Why don’t you throw your hat in the ring?”

Dahl said nothing.

“Forgive me, Dahl. I’d forgotten you’d already thrown her over for…Lady Anderson, wasn’t it?”

“I’m pleased you keep track of my exploits. I never knew you cared.”

“You’re a constant source of entertainment for us all, thanks to The Tattler . So, you can imagine why I wouldn’t be thrilled you’ve turned your attention to me. There is something very unbecoming about being the last in line.”

“Is that what’s annoying you? I didn’t ask you sooner? Somehow, I knew your pride was involved in this decision.”

Ember lightly tapped her horse, and it began a graceful saunter moving ahead of Dahlingford. How many heads were bent together at this very moment as the two of them rode side by side? Speculation was likely brewing. It was becoming clear to all that Dahlingford had set his sights on her—everyone had seen their conversation last night. Riding beside him was nearly an admission of guilt. His reputation was more than speculative, it was an admitted, boasted fact.

One wink and a nudge, a few whispered words and her reputation would be in tatters.

He didn’t seem willing to take no for an answer.

Dahlingford caught up with her again. “What is it you want, Ember? What would it take to convince you we would be a good match?”

“Can we not talk about something else? You were always so interesting before. Your pursuit now hints of desperation. Are you desperate, Dahl?”

He grabbed the reins of her horse’s bridle and brought her up short. “That has always been the trouble with the Norths. Too blinded by moral superiority to enjoy life.”

“As opposed to you, controlled by your lusts and your superior manhood?”

“At least I know how to live.”

“Do you? You haven’t lived since…” she said.

“Just say what you mean, Ember.”

Her chest heaved. How had she gone from a slight affront to downright anger toward Dahlingford? Oh, the layers were deep and complicated. She did not want to revisit the past. “I meant nothing.”

“Then agree to my proposal. I want you now. Isn’t that enough in this short life? Take some pleasure for yourself, Lady Chester, or die with nothing.”

“You know there are other reasons,” she snapped.

“I’ve gotten past those reasons.”

“No, Dahlingford. You wallow in them and luxuriate in your self-pity.”

“You think you know me, Ember? You don’t. You don’t know the half of it. I won’t apologize for something that wasn’t my fault.”

“No, but you could at least apologize for the part that was.”

Dahlingford glanced around and then his blazing hot gaze bore into hers. Their horses were next to each other; Dahl’s leg bumped hers. Her skirt brushed his boot top. “You want an apology? For what?”

Ember swallowed back the accusations. So many people had been hurt. Why try to hurt Dahlingford even more?

He gripped her upper arm and leaned toward her. His mouth crushed hers in a heated kiss, his tongue sliding into her mouth before she could protest. She moaned. In her mind, she cursed him and struggled. But in utter mortification, she felt her skin and bones melt under his caress and the faint stirring of desire low in her belly.

She gasped and pulled away, clutching her riding crop and struggling not to strike him. She jerked at the horse’s reins. Her horse snorted in agitation, but she turned it around. She glared at him, then lashed out, her palm cracking against his cheek. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“You’ll get no such promise from me, Ember. The next time I kiss you, it will be a prelude to the shag of your life.”

Dahlingford had been successful in one thing, because two days later, Ember was still thinking about him. He’d never crossed so many boundaries. Never been so heated, intense or persistent.

A burning flame sat low in her belly, as if all her senses were attuned to only one thing.

It chafed because she was not a wilting flower to succumb to a man’s impassioned touch. She had a mind. She had control of her body.

But their encounter on Rotten Row sparked more than unfamiliar desire. It stirred the uneasy memories of the past. Reminded her she had not forgiven him and probably never would. The loss had been so monumental, so consuming , it was a wonder any of them led normal lives. The past had covered her like a woolen blanket in the summer. Smothering her. Stifling all of them.

For years, there had been an unspoken agreement between their families. No one talked about that day. The day that ended everything. The entire James family had been such an integral part of hers prior to her marriage. So had the Mortons.

After she married Gerald, she had cut almost every emotional tie except those necessitated by location, as they traveled the same circles. It had been enough she’d buried herself caring for Gerald and the children. But Gerald wasn’t Dahl.

There were great moments of fear that she would never know love.

Not like the great love she’d had for Dahlingford when she was sixteen.

She glanced out the window to see the children were playing in the small park in the middle of the square where her townhouse was located. Their governess clucked reprovingly when they disobeyed, and she kept her flock always within reach.

Next week they would leave for Redfield, Pelham’s primary country estate. She had already decided they would return home to York afterward rather than spend any more time in London or attend other Season festivities about the ton .

Dahlingford had really stirred up her memories and feelings this time.

The temptation to decline Lady Pelham’s invitation was great. House parties were notoriously immoral, no matter the quality of persons invited. Circumstances were such that bad judgment seemed to be a common occurrence. Throw Dahlingford into the mix and one might as well have stirred the flames of a roaring fire.

She did not want to face him again.

Still, one did not decline an invitation from a duchess without regard for the consequences. She had Robert’s future wife to think of and the boys would benefit from the associations they would make while in their childhood.

Dahlingford.

Why was the thought of him like the itch of ivy? She wanted to ignore him as she had for the past years but his words, his offer, his anger all combined in a deadly poison that screamed for relief.

What if ?