Snowflakes and Scandals

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Dahlingford threw his riding crop on the desk and marched to the sideboard to pour a drink. The sweet gurgle of the brandy and the tinkle of decanter against glass had his glands dripping. He needed this drink.

Riding, boxing, gambling—none of it would get Ember out of his mind though. Nothing ever had. Maybe a weeklong binge before arriving at Lady Pelham’s house party would get him through the excruciating days of closeness to Ember.

He’d gone years keeping his thoughts about Ember completely private. And unacknowledged. He had been insane to allow his lust to goad him into pursuing her. At the time, he had thought bedding her would be a balm to his troubled past. Instead, she was the wound that had never healed.

All of it was her fault.

Every damn minute of his misery was her fault.

He swallowed back the burning fire and then poured another. He gripped the decanter and found his way to the cushioned chair near the empty fireplace.

“Papa says I must marry a duke or no one.”

“You mean he doesn’t want you to marry me?”

Back then, he wasn’t an earl. His father was only in his forties and had years to live. Ember’s father had only been thinking of the best match. Trenton had been thinking of love.

Gad, he could hear the words as if she had spoken them yesterday.

He had been twenty at the time. Full of himself. Confident. Sure he would marry Emberline North, the daughter of his mother’s dearest friend.

She had been haughty, sure of her beauty and assured a promising match. And then she’d skipped off as if her teasing promises of love and her family’s hinted assurances meant nothing. In the end, they hadn’t.

And that’s when he’d made his mistake. Rather than wait for her to outgrown her childish sentiments, he’d decided to assuage his wounded pride, punish her for her treatment of him.

He gripped the stopper from the decanter and threw it aside. He tipped back the bottle and gulped several sizzling mouthfuls before he had to catch his breath. The liquid burned clear to his belly where it set, ready to burst from his body as much as his thoughts were churning for release.

Seducing Ember Boothe, Lady Chester, as a mature woman was practically impossible. Seducing her as a sixteen-year-old would have been like trespassing over the hallowed ground of the Virgin Mary. Unless God ordained it, it would never happen.

As a grown man, he could look back and marvel at his stupidity and arrogance.

There was no doubt in anyone’s mind he was a colossal prick.

Instead of waiting for Ember, instead of using his head instead of his cock—he had seduced another woman. Ember’s other best friend, Claudia Morton. He couldn’t have selected some other woman to shag. He had affected as many lives as possible. The Norths, the Mortons and the Jameses were all close. Their estates bordered each other. Their families went back decades. Even centuries.

Ember did not know the whole story. Only a few had. The girl’s parents certainly.

Ember only knew he was to marry another.

Impregnating Claudia Morton had come as a shock to him. She’d been thrilled at the prospect of marriage to a future earl. She had been nearly two months along on the day of the wedding. He would never know if he was meant to have a son.

He could not bring himself to think past that.

The decanter was empty and sat propped between his legs. His head lolled on the back of the cushioned chair and his gaze stared at the sky-blue ceiling overhead.

If there was a God, He should do everything in his power to keep Ember Boothe away from the unmitigated disaster of Dahlingford’s life.

“Promise me now, you won’t be playing matchmaker the entire time we are at Redfield.” Robert eyed the cards he held. Ember glanced at Susan. She received a subtle nod and saw the tap of her finger on the table. They always cheated when they played against Robert and Lord Albert Danforth, Susan’s husband. Robert was much too overconfident, and Albert was much too distracted to catch on to their little game.

Her brother had arrived late and seemed particularly surly, barely greeting her as he came into the room, instead heading straight to the liquor. The hands they’d already lost did nothing to improve his mood.

“No need to worry, Robert. Lady Pelham is a formidable matchmaker in her own right. I’m sure she has matched you with a different woman for every meal and game of charades,” Susan said.

“I hate charades,” he said, throwing down a card that took the trick from her and Susan.

“Maybe you oughtn’t go, Ember. You know how changeable the weather can be this time of year. You don’t want the children to catch cold,” Susan added.

Ember laughed. “If it rains, we will stay indoors and play. If it snows, I will have the happiest children in England."

“Charades,” Robert said. “Must every house party include such a ridiculous form of entertainment? Billiards and cigars are sufficient for me after a day of hunting. And then to bed early.”

“Country hours have never suited you, Robert. You’ll still be up until three in the morning so don’t pretend otherwise.”

“Such is the entertainment when so many single ladies are present,” Susan said. “I wish Albert and I had been invited.”

“ Hmpf ,” Albert grumbled. “I’ve been to enough house parties to last a lifetime. Do you remember two years ago at Allington’s when Lord Jacobs misplaced his trousers? Now how do you suppose things like that happen? I’ve heard Pelham and his wife are extravagant in their entertainments .”

“All rumors. They are most devoted to each other,” Ember said.

“Well, I’ve heard?—”

“Albert dear, we don’t need to hear more innuendo about the duchess. She is a very fine woman and a wonderful mother to the duke’s children.”

Albert snorted, his brows arching upward in disbelief then he played his next card. Ember played a trick and, true to form, Susan outplayed Robert as she laid the last card.

“Another hand to us,” Susan said cheerfully.

“Pay up, gentlemen. I have a few purchases to make before we head to the country,” Ember said.

“Not another dress?” her brother asked. “Seems you have enough for several seasons.”

“It is no concern of yours,” she said brightly.

“You have your sons to consider,” he said sharply, slapping his cards against the table.

“My sons are well provided for,” she snapped back.

“A husband could help you arrange your finances. Your money won’t last forever at the rate you’ve been spending.”

“Robert!” Ember had never heard a word of criticism from him about the funds Gerald had left for her and the children along with her dowry. She had not been reckless by any means. Gerald had hired prominent men who had invested for them. Men who could be trusted. They had no worries or cares. And Robert certainly could not give a reliable opinion without being privy to her affairs. And to criticize her in front of Susan and Albert was quite beyond the pale.

Albert cleared his throat.

“Perhaps we ought to call it an evening?” Susan said as she stacked the cards and placed them in a neat pile in the middle of the table.

“Yes. Let’s.” Ember was in full agreement. She glared at Robert again, who had picked up his glass and drank the last of its contents.

She called for a footman who collected their belongings—Susan’s shawl, Albert’s hat and cane. A hot flush still burned on Ember’s face. To be berated in front of family was intolerable, especially coming so suddenly and with a certain amount of vehemence. Besides, she was the oldest, a fact that annoyed Robert from time to time.

Robert had stayed behind. He wouldn’t dare leave after launching such a personal attack.

Susan hugged her and whispered in her ear, “He’s just grumpy and tired. We need to find a wife to distract him, so he won’t take his frustration out on you.”

Ember attempted a smile. “But who will I play cards with if that happens?”

“Teach her all our tricks.”

The footman opened the door and Ember bid them good evening. When the door clicked shut, she turned on her heel and marched back to give Viscount North a piece of her mind.

When she walked in, Robert turned to face her.

“What has gotten you in such a stew?” she asked. Demanded .

“At the club today, I got to hear about your indiscretions with the Earl of Dahlingford. Of all the women in London, I never thought I’d hear gossip about you.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t deny it, Ember. Everyone who is anyone saw you with him. Could you not have been more discreet?”

They faced each other in the middle of the room.

“I live a life of perfect propriety, and you dare chastise me? Dahlingford and me? You must be joking.”

If Dahlingford were standing beside her right now, she’d be tempted to brain him with the fireplace poker. Was it worse that he knew he was a rake or that he was so damned proud of the fact?

“You know his reputation. He should be avoided like the plague.”

“He’s your friend! And a peer. Am I to cut him? And you were the one to leave me alone in the park with him.”

“I won’t have your name bandied about as if you’re available for that sort of…liaison.”

“You have no cause to doubt my reputation. For three years, I have been the most boring woman in London. You think Dahlingford is going to ruin that with one encounter at the Duchess of Pelham’s ball? Or one on Rotten Row? Believe me, there were more notorious scandals occurring behind closed doors, not in the middle of the ballroom, where I stood, openly , with the earl. Or sitting astride my horse.”

“ If that were the extent of it! I suppose you have a perfectly reasonable explanation for why you were seen embracing him at Hyde Park this morning?”

The blood rushed to her face, and she went from cold to hot in an instant. Even her ears burned.

What could she say?

“I didn’t initiate the contact. He took me by surprise. And I slapped him for his improprieties. Should you not be taking Dahlingford to task for importuning a lady, rather than berating the lady?”

“He’ll use you and throw you away, Ember. Keep away from him.”

“I know that. I’ve been trying to tell you I have no interest.” How could she tell her brother that the one thing Dahlingford offered was the one thing in marriage she had no interest in? She was certain his persistence could be fended off with a few well-timed rebuffs.

“You need to get married again. Find a respectable noble, one who would be an example to the children and help you manage your affairs.”

“Robert, we agreed my life was my own now that Gerald is gone. It is one of the few benefits of being a widow.”

“I also assumed you would be remarried by now.”

“You assumed incorrectly. I have no plans to remarry. Even if my dowry weren’t sufficient enough, Gerald was more than generous. You’ve no reason to worry and no cause to make demands. Now, if we are finished with this conversation, I wish to retire to my room. You can show yourself out.” She whirled and headed toward the door.

“He isn’t the same boy you knew growing up. Remember that.”

She stopped, took in a deep breath and asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that if you are still foolish enough to have feelings for him, he’ll use them against you to get what he wants.”

Ember’s stomach quivered. There were no outward feelings for him, certainly none anyone would ever guess or suspect. “I think you underestimate me, Robert. And, if you’ll recall, I was the one who rejected him as a suitor.” Regret was too simple a word for how she felt about that decision.

“That fact only makes him more dangerous. No assignations with him, Ember. I am giving you fair warning that I will act in the best interest of your children, and you, if necessary.”

“Papa would be so proud of you demonstrating such trust and respect for your sister. After the duchess’s house party, I will make sure I don’t speak to him the rest of the year. Will that suit you?” She had plans to retire to her country estate after the party, irrespective of Robert’s threats.

“Do you think it is wise to go? I would not recommend attendance, given the circumstances.”

She smiled, feeling a complete lack of regard for Robert’s faux concerns. He had poked at old wounds and stirred up her ire. She wasn’t a silly sixteen-year-old girl unable to control herself, unable to fend for herself and unable to decide for herself.

“I would love for you to tell me right now that you forbid it,” she said.

Robert hooked a thumb in the pocket of his waistcoat. “All right. I forbid it.”

“Go to hell, Robert. Dahlingford will find some other doxy to shag before he wears me down, but I will damned well go to the Pelham’s house party and I plan to have a rip-roarious grand time while I’m there.”