Scandal

Table of Contents

 

 

CAROLYN JEWEL

 

“The best jewel yet... Terrific.”—
The Best Reviews

 

“[A] dazzling series that just gets richer and more complex with each new chapter. Previously known for her historical novels, the gifted author has definitely found a new niche.”

—
Romantic Times
(Top Pick, 4½ Stars)

 

“A fast-paced, attention-grabbing, action-packed hell of a ride.”—
Romance Reviews Today

 

“Jewel keeps the plot fresh ... The perfect holiday treat.”

—
Midwest Book Review

 

“An intense, beautiful love story and a most rewarding read.”—Sherry Thomas, bestselling author of
Delicious

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, andincidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

 

SCANDAL

 

A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the author

 

PRINTING HISTORY

 

Berkley Sensation mass-market edition / February 2009

Copyright © 2009 by Carolyn Jewel.

 

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eISBN : 978-1-440-69802-6

 

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Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To the usual suspects. Megan Frampton for reading drafts: Thank you, Megan! You rock. To my editor, Kate Seaver: It took me a while to get this right, but I managed it. Thank you for your patience and enthusiasm. To my agent, Kristin Nelson, who read one version (I forget which) and said, “Just start over.” OK, so I did, and I think it came out pretty good. And then there's my son, Nathaniel, who really deserves pizza and burritos less often, but deadlines are deadlines, honey. To the Fudgester (aka Speed Brick), Jake, and Jasper: Yes, you can all fit on the chair with me, but then it's hard to type. Comfy though! And thanks Mom and Dad, too. I love you both. I also owe thanks to the students in English 530, who read early chapters in the “starting over” version and to professors Sherril Jaffe and Noelle Oxenhandler for reading and responding to early versions. Such tact!

 

Lastly, to all the readers who kept asking me when I was going to have another historical out: Here you go, and thank you for continuing to ask.

One

Havenwood, near Duke's Head, England,
NOVEMBER 2, 1814

 

 

 

THE FIRST THING GWILYM, EARL OF BANALLT, NOTICED when he rounded the drive was Sophie perched on the ledge of a low fountain. Surely, he thought, some other explanation existed for the hard, slow thud of his heart against his ribs. After all, he hadn't seen her in well over a year, and they had not parted on the best of terms. He ought to be over her by now. And yet the jolt of seeing her again shot straight through to his soul.

He was dismayed beyond words.

Beside him, Sophie's brother continued riding toward the house, oblivious.

She heard them coming; she left off trailing her fingers in the water and straightened, though not before he caught a glimpse of the pale nape of her neck. Just that flash of bare skin, and Banallt couldn't breathe. Still seated on the fountain's edge, she turned toward the drive and looked first at her brother and then, at last, at him. She did not smile. Nor, he thought, was she unaffected.

Nothing at all had changed.

“Sophie!” Mercer called to his sister. He urged his horse to the edge of the gravel drive. Banallt took a breath, prayed for his heart to stop banging its way out of his chest, and followed. He wasn't afraid of her. Certainly he wasn't. Why would he be? She was a woman and only a tolerably pretty one at that. He had years of experience dealing with women. “What luck we've found you outside,” Mercer said, leaning a forearm across his horse's neck.

Anxiety pressed in on Banallt, which annoyed him to no end. What he wanted from this moment was proof she hadn't taken possession of his heart. That his memories of her, of the two of them, were distorted by past circumstance. They had met during a turbulent time in his life during which he had perhaps not always behaved as a gentleman ought. They had parted on a day that had forever scarred him. He wanted to see her as plain and uninteresting. He wanted to think that, after all, he'd been mistaken about her eyes. He wanted his fascination with her to have vanished.

None of that had happened.

Banallt still thought he'd do anything to take her to bed.

Sophie lifted a hand to shade her eyes. “Hullo, John.”

She was no beauty. Not at first glance. Not even at second glance. Bony cheeks only just balanced her pointed chin. Her nose was too long, with a small but noticeable curve below the bridge that did not straighten out near soon enough. Her mouth was not particularly full. Thick eyebrows darker than her dark hair arched over eyes that blazed with intelligence. The first time he saw her he'd thought it a pity a woman with eyes like hers wasn't better looking. Not the only time he'd misjudged her; merely the first.

She stood and walked to the edge of the lawn. Behind her, nearer the house, mist rose from emerald grass, and above the roof more fog curled around the chimneys to mingle with smoke. Havenwood was a very pretty property.

“My lord.” Sophie curtseyed when she came to a halt. Her smile didn't reach her eyes. Banallt saw the wariness in the blue green depths. She didn't trust him, and she was still angry. Considering his reputation and their past interactions, a wise decision. She knew him too well. Better than anyone ever had.

Banallt relaxed his hands on the reins. Really, he told himself, his situation was not dire at all. He preferred tall women, and Sophie was not tall. In coloring, his bias had always been for blondes, and she was a brunette whose fine-boned features added to one's impression of her fragility. Delicate women did not interest him. She was in every way wrong for him. Havenwood might be a gentleman's estate, but despite the wealth and property, despite the fact that Mercer had important connections, the truth remained that Mercer and his sister were only minor gentry. Sophie's marriage had most definitely been a step down for her. His dismay eased. He would get through this ill-advised visit unscathed. He would tell her good morning, or afternoon, or whatever the hell time of day it was, express his surprise at seeing her, and be on his way, having just recalled an important engagement.

“You haven't changed,” he told her. Good. He sounded stiff and formal. It was not in his nature to abase himself to anyone. Not even to Sophie Evans. His Cleveland Bay stretched its nose in her direction, remembering carrots and sugar fed from her hand, no doubt.

“You've met?” Mercer asked. His mount danced sideways, but he settled his gelding quickly. He was a competent horseman, John Mercer was. And far too alert now. Mercer was a dutiful brother looking out for his sister. Well. There was nothing for it. Banallt was here after all, and Mercer had reason to be suspicious.

“Lord Banallt was a friend of Tommy's,” Sophie replied when Banallt did not answer. She pressed her lips together in familiar disapproval. Sophie had seen him at his worst, which was quite bad indeed. Legendary, in fact. Heaven only knew what was going through her mind right now. Actually, he thought he knew. It was not much to his credit.

“I didn't realize,” Mercer said. Now he had the same wary eyes as his sister. The line between connections that were tolerable and connections that were not was sometimes all too fine. Mercer must have been wondering if that slender gap had been breached. A widowed nobleman with a long-standing reputation as a rake was one thing. A gentleman might overlook a scandal or two in the career of such a man. But a rake with a heretofore unknown acquaintance with one's sister was altogether different. Particularly when said sister was already well connected with scandal.