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‘It’s not her fault society conveniently forgives a man the errors of his past—but never a woman,’ Temperance retorted.
‘I haven’t always agreed with her...wandering tendencies,’ Aunt Gussie admitted, ‘but married to my brother, I could certainly sympathise. He’d already begun to show passion only for the beautiful objects he collected before I made my come-out. I remember one morning in the breakfast room, I tripped over his latest acquisition, some sort of ceremonial sword. He rushed over when I cried out—it gave me a nasty cut! And completely ignored me, all his concern for whether the sword had been damaged!’
‘If only he hadn’t chosen Mama to add to his collections,’ Temperance muttered.
‘Well, that’s past lamenting,’ Gregory said briskly. ‘We need to decide what we shall do now, which is why I asked Aunt Gussie to join us. Do you think the hubbub will die down soon enough for the girls to have their Season this year?’
Aunt Gussie shook her head. ‘I received two notes from acquaintances before I’d even arisen from bed this morning, wanting to know what was truth, what rumour. With the Season beginning in just two weeks, Hallsworthy so badly injured he may hover on the cusp between life and death for some time, and Farnworth having quit England, it’s likely to remain the on dit for months.’
‘We could just brazen it out,’ Temperance said. ‘Really, Aunt Gussie, do you truly think we will ever escape being tainted by Mama’s reputation? Since we are her blonde, blue-eyed images, we must naturally possess the same reckless, passionate character. As far as society is concerned, we’re the “Scandal Sisters”, and always will be.’
‘I know it’s unfair, child,’ Aunt Augusta said, patting Temperance’s arm. ‘I understand your bitterness, but there’s no need—yet—to give up on the goal of seeing both of you well settled—eventually. It’s what your mama desires, as much as I do! Not this Season, alas. But soon.’
‘That’s what you’ve been saying for the last four years,’ Pru said, trying to stave off her desolation over this new delay. ‘First, you ended up having to assist at your daughter’s lying-in the year we turned eighteen, then you were ill yourself the next year, then Aunt Sophia died, and last year, Christopher married Ellie. An absolute darling, whom I love dearly, but trying to overcome the infamy of your mother’s reputation right after your brother marries a notorious former courtesan is clearly impossible. If we have to wait much longer, we will be too old for any man to wish to marry us!’
‘You should rather pity the girls who did debut and marry,’ Temperance told her flippantly. ‘Stuck home now with a husband to please and a babe on the way.’
‘Perhaps you would!’ Prudence flung back, raw disappointment goading her out of her customary restraint. ‘But having a husband who cares for me and a normal household filled with our children is all I’ve ever wished for.’
Looking contrite, Temperance gave her a hug. ‘No female under Heaven is sweeter, lovelier or more deserving of a happy family. I’m sorry for speaking slightingly of your hopes. Forgive me?’
Feeling guilty—for she knew if she didn’t keep such a tight control over herself, her reactions might be just as explosive as her sister’s, Prudence said gruffly, ‘I’m no angel. I know you were teasing. Forgive me, for being so tetchy.’
‘If squelching the rumours is impossible, what should we do, Aunt Gussie?’ Gregory asked.
‘I think it would be best if I took the girls out of London for a while.’
‘Not to Entremer!’ Temperance cried. ‘With nothing but empty moors and coal mines for miles, I’d expire of boredom in a month!’
‘I should know, I was raised there,’ Aunt Gussie said with a shudder. ‘No, I propose taking you somewhere much more pleasant. Granted, with the Season beginning, it will be thinner of company than I’d like, but my dear friend Helena lauds its excellent shopping and the lending libraries. There will be subscription dances and musicales, as well as the activities around the Pump Room—’
‘You mean Bath?’ Temperance interrupted, looking aghast. ‘Activities, yes—like assisting septuagenarians to sip the vile waters! That’s almost as bad as Northumberland!’
‘The city may not be as fashionable as it once was, but anything would be better than rusticating in the country,’ Gregory pointed out.
‘It’s not as large a stage as London, to be sure. But for a lady more interested in a congenial partner than in snagging wealth and a title, it might do. At the very least, you girls would be able to mingle in society and perhaps meet some amiable gentlemen, without whispers of this affair following you everywhere. You’ll gain some town bronze and if you find no one to your liking, there’s still next year in London.’
‘Sounds like an excellent idea,’ Gregory said. ‘And one that seems more likely to get my spinster sisters off my hands than inviting the censure of the ton this Season, as our intemperate Temper proposes.’
‘But most of the ton hostesses know we were supposed to be presented this year,’ Temperance argued. ‘I don’t want them to think I’m a coward—or that I’m ashamed of Mama! It’s not her bad behaviour that precipitated this.’
‘Do you want to make it worse for your mother?’ Aunt Gussie asked sharply. ‘Then, by all means, confront society and aggravate a scandal not of her making into such infamy that you can never be respectably settled!’
When Temperance looked away, her defiant words subsiding in a dull flush, she continued more gently, ‘Your mama would be the first to urge you to be prudent.’
‘Dear Aunt Gussie, always offering sound counsel to keep me from doing something rash,’ Temperance said with a laugh, her anger disappearing as quickly as it had arisen. ‘Very well, I may not attempt to breach the hostile walls of the ton this Season. But neither do I intend to languish in Bath. I’ll stay in London—discreetly showing my support for Mama. Since I have no intention of ever marrying, what difference does it make to me? In the interim, if I promise to send him any treasures I uncover, perhaps I can persuade Papa to release some of the blunt he’s put away for the dowry I won’t need and let me go adventuring in Europe.’
‘But you, darling Sis,’ she said, turning back to Prudence, ‘should go to Bath. And I hope with all my heart you will find there what you are seeking.’
‘You are adamant about remaining in London?’ Aunt Gussie asked Temperance.
‘Much as I will miss Pru, yes, I am.’
‘I’d prefer if you could get Temper out of my hair, too, until this fracas dies down,’ Gregory said to Aunt Gussie, ignoring the face Temperance made at him. ‘But if you can at least take Prudence out of harm’s way, I’ll appreciate it. So the two of you will pack up and leave for Bath as soon as possible?’
‘We will. And hope to find her that agreeable gentleman,’ Lady Stoneway said, with a fond look at Pru.
The very possibility helping her crushed hopes revive, Prudence said, ‘That would be wonderful!’
‘Be careful what you wish for, dear Sis,’ Temperance warned.
With the family conference ended and their aunt returning to her own home, Prudence and Temperance walked arm in arm back up to their chamber. ‘Are you sure I can’t coax you to come with us? We’ve never been apart! I shall feel so lost without you,’ Pru said, the reality of being without her twin beginning to sink in with dismaying clarity.
She soothed herself with the thought that, painful as their parting would be, at the end of a sojourn in Bath might be new love and support—from a husband. And unlike the twin, who despite her protests to the contrary, must some day marry and leave her, he would love and support her for ever.
‘I shall miss your cautious voice warning me against taking some impulsive and usually rash action,’ Temper was saying, smiling at her. ‘I do think it’s a good idea for Aunt Gussie to take you away, though. Leave London, where, after this latest contretemps, we’re bound to be pointed out and stared at wherever we go.’
Prudence groaned, the truth of that statement bringing a surge of the resentment and prickly discomfort she always felt when going out into public view. ‘Thank you for the reminder. I shall avoid the modiste and finish obtaining any necessary gowns in Bath. It was bad enough last week.’
Temperance laughed caustically. ‘Ah, yes, last week, at Madame Emilie’s. When that whey-faced little heiress kept staring at us?’
‘Very subtle, wasn’t she?’ Pru said, sarcasm lacing her voice. ‘She could hardly wait for us to disappear behind the curtains for our fitting before asking in a horrified “whisper” that could be heard by every shopper in the establishment, “so those are the Scandal Sisters”!’
‘If I hadn’t been clad only in my chemise at that moment, I would have popped out, bowed like an opera dancer taking an encore and cried, “Voila, c’est nous!”’
‘Whereas I would rather have left by the back door.’
‘Only to sneak into the chit’s bedchamber that night and strangle her in her sleep?’ Temper suggested with a grin.
Pru laughed. ‘The notion does appeal. Oh, Temper, I wish I could face it with humour, like you do. But it just grates on me like nails on a slate and all I want is to be rid of it! The scandal, the notoriety, the whispers behind the hands whenever we walk into a room. Oh, to become Mrs Somebody Else, wife of a well-respected man and resident of some small estate far, far from London! Where I can stroll through a nearby village whose residents have never heard of “the Scandal Sisters”, able to hold my head high and be talked about only for my...my lovely babies and my garden!’
‘With a husband who dotes on you, who never tires of hugging you and kissing you and cuddling you on his knee...instead of a father who barely tolerates a handshake.’
Both girls sighed, wordlessly sharing the same bitter memory of years of trying and failing to win the affection of a man who preferred keeping them—and, to be fair, everyone else, including his wife—at a distance. Though Temper persisted in approaching Papa, Pru had given up the attempt.
‘I don’t expect to find the kind of radiant joy Christopher has with his Ellie,’ Pru said softly. ‘All I long for is a quiet gentleman who has affection for me, as a woman and his wife, not a...a relic of infamy and scandal. Who wants to create a family that treats each member with tenderness.’
‘A family like we’ve never had,’ Temper said wryly.
That observation needing no response, Pru continued, ‘To a man like that, I could give all my love and devotion.’
‘Then he would be the luckiest man in England!’ Opening the chamber door, she waved Pru into the room. ‘I shall pray that you discover in Bath the eminently respectable country gentlemen you long for. That he’ll ask you to marry him, settle on his remote estate and give you a flock of beautiful children for me to spoil. Now, we’d better look through your wardrobe and see how many more gowns you’ll need to commission in Bath so you can dazzle this paragon.’
Chapter One (#ub4740402-0535-5439-a1a6-1996a0340431)
Three weeks later, Lieutenant Lord John Trethwell, youngest son of the late Marquess of Barkley and recently returned from the 2nd (Queen’s Royal) Regiment of Foot in India, limped beside his great-aunt, Lady Woodlings, down a path in Bath’s Sidney Gardens. ‘Ah,’ he said after drawing in a deep breath, ‘Bath in the spring!’
‘It is lovely,’ his aunt said as he helped her to a seat on a convenient bench. ‘Though it doesn’t offer quite the fleshly amusements a jaded adventurer like you might prefer,’ she added, punctuating her reproof with a whack of her cane against his knee.
Surprised into a grunt, he rubbed the affected leg. ‘How unsporting, to strike an injured man.’
For a moment, his aunt looked concerned. ‘I didn’t mean to—’
‘Just teasing, Aunt Pen,’ he reassured her. ‘No harm done. But you malign me, assuming I mock the beauty of April in Bath. After blistering tropical heat, and jungle fevers, and pursuit by hostile natives, it is a soothing balm to return to the cool, tranquil beauty of England.’
His aunt studied his face, probably searching for the lines of pain he tried to conceal. ‘Are you recovering, Johnnie? You still have that dashed limp.’
‘I’ll be rid of it in good time,’ he replied, hoping he spoke the truth.
‘As you’re going to be rid of the army? You know I hope to coax you into remaining in England, don’t you?’
Johnnie shrugged, ignoring her last comment to reply, ‘I’m done with the army, for sure. After seven years, I’ve had enough of restrictive rules not to my liking and kowtowing to some jumped-up Cit whose father paid to have him made a Company official.’
‘Jumped-up Cits, eh?’ His aunt chuckled. ‘Blood will tell and yours is the bluest! Much as you’ve tried to distance yourself from your family! Not that I blame you. Idiots, most of them.’
‘I never set out to distance myself,’ he corrected, grinning. ‘But with all his building projects, trying to make Barkley’s Hundred the equal of Blenheim, Papa had virtually bankrupted the estate even before Robert inherited. With dowries for the girls—’
‘And the profligate habits of your other three brothers.’
‘There was left little enough for the youngest son. I didn’t want to be a further drain on Robert’s slender resources—then or now. Once I leave the army, I must have another way to earn my bread.’
‘You know the best way to do it.’
‘You’d have me to find a rich woman to marry. ‘
‘Marrying a rich woman has been the alternative of choice for well-born but indigent younger sons for centuries—and a much safer alternative than trekking off to barter for treasure in foreign lands, as you propose to do! You might not possess a title, but your breeding can’t be faulted.’
‘The breeding you just disparaged?’ he pointed out.
‘Nothing wrong with the blood,’ she flashed back. ‘Just with several recent possessors of it.’
Declining to point out the lack of logic in that statement, he said, ‘I happen to believe setting up a trading operation is a better route to wealth than sacrificing myself on the altar of some India nabob hoping to marry his daughter into the aristocracy. Or confirming the whispers already swirling around Bath that I’m a fortune hunter, intent on seducing a rich lady of quality. The “parson’s mousetrap”, they call marriage. Whereas I’d describe being tied to just one woman as more like...fitting myself for a garrotte,’ he teased.
‘A garrotte, indeed!’ she scolded, whacking him on the arm. ‘Those who disparage marrying money never seem to object when someone in their own family manages it. Since you claim to be unable to tolerate wedding an heiress, I suppose you think if you dance attendance on me, I’ll leave you my fortune to invest in that trading empire?’ she asked tartly.
Johnnie merely chuckled. ‘If I were totty-headed enough to entertain that hope, I’d better be prepared to wait a long time! I expect you’ll outlive us all. Besides, I would think your own sons stood in line before me in that regard.’
‘They inherited wealth enough from Woodlings not to need mine.’
‘Your grandchildren, then.’
‘Both my boys had sense enough to marry girls with large dowries. Their brats won’t need my money either.’
‘In any event, I visit you—as you well know—because you’re the most interesting relative I possess. You may leave that fortune to your dog, for all I care.’
‘Hmmph!’ his aunt said, looking pleased at his response. ‘It would serve you right if I left it to some improving school for the instruction of indigent girls.’
As she spoke, the periphery of his gaze caught on a flutter of movement. Turning in that direction, he realised what he’d seen was the ripple of pale fabric against the green verge beyond the path.
Two ladies walked towards them down the central alley. He’d just begun to turn back towards his aunt when his gaze, scanning lazily upwards, landed on the faces of the ladies and stopped dead.
A bolt of pure physical attraction immobilised him, spiking his pulse, suspending breath. He’d bedazzled dark-eyed maharanis, beguiled matrons famed as the Diamond of their cantonment, but he didn’t think he’d ever beheld a woman more breathtakingly beautiful than the one now approaching them.
Realising, if the walkers continued straight ahead rather than taking the nearby cross-path, they would soon draw too near for him to make any discreet enquiries, he bent to whisper in his aunt’s ear. ‘Good L—Heavens, Aunt! Who is that divine creature?’
Lady Woodlings peered down the path before straightening with a snort. ‘Precisely the sort of female you need to avoid!’
Surprised by her vehemence, he gave the girl another quick glance. ‘Avoid—why? I know fashions have changed since I’ve been away, but she doesn’t look like a high flyer to me.’
‘She might as well be,’ Lady Woodlings retorted scornfully.
‘Aunt Pen, I’m only a simple male,’ Johnnie said with some exasperation. ‘A clearer explanation, please.’
Sadly for a body eager to have the seductive Beauty pass more closely, but fortunately for his compulsion to find out more about her, the lady and her older companion did in fact turn on to the cross-path and proceed away from him. In partial compensation, though, he was able to stare openly at her enticingly rounded figure as she glided away, the gold curls beneath her elaborate bonnet shining brightly in the afternoon sunshine.
‘Very well, Aunt Pen,’ he said, once he was sure they were out of earshot. ‘Who is she and why must I avoid her?’
‘One of the Scandal Sisters. The twin daughters of infamous Lady Vraux.’
No more enlightened by that information, he said, ‘Meaning, she was embroiled in some scandal in London? Remember, Aunt, I left university straight for the army and haven’t been near the city in years.’
With considerable relish, his aunt launched into the tale of a beautiful but immoral, high-born lady who, after presenting her long-suffering husband with a son and heir, proceeded to scandalise the ton by blatantly flouting her many lovers, one of whom sired her second son, another giving her twin daughters. ‘Why the devil Lord Vraux allowed her to name the chits Prudence and Temperance, I can’t imagine! As if transgressing moral boundaries weren’t enough—she must mock them, too.’
‘So the daughter has shown herself as profligate as her mother?’ he probed.
‘Not yet. She’s not even out, officially, though she must be approaching the age where most young ladies would be at their last prayers! The on dit was the girls were to be presented in London this Season—but then, a few weeks ago, two imbeciles just down from Oxford fought a duel over their mother. Of course, a presentation in the face of that would have been impossible. I’m surprised her aunt—that was her father’s sister, Lady Stoneway, walking with her—dares to let the creature show her face, even in Bath! Though one must pity the poor woman, trying to find husbands for such a pair. It won’t be easy, their fat dowries notwithstanding!’
‘But you know nothing to the detriment of the daughter?’
‘How could I, when she’s not out yet?’
‘Precisely my point, Aunt,’ Johnnie said drily.
‘Never you mind, she’ll embroil herself in some scandal soon enough. As I’ve been saying, blood will tell. And you may get that look out of your eye, Johnnie Trethwell!’
‘What look, Aunt?’
‘The look of a hound who’s just scented a fox! Why is it that, whenever one tries to warn some rascal with more energy than sense to steer clear of danger, he’s immediately compelled to charge after it?’
‘Probably because he’s a rascal,’ Johnnie replied with a grin. ‘Come along now, Aunt Pen. Introduce me.’
His aunt drew back, a horrified expression on her face. ‘I will never! I know I’ve been urging you to marry an heiress, but the poor looby who marries that girl? He may be able to spend her money, but he’ll never stop worrying over who he’ll find in her bed.’
‘A pity. I shall have to contrive some other way to make her acquaintance.’
‘Mark my words, John Stewart William Trethwell,’ his aunt said indignantly. ‘Take up with that creature and you’ll never see a penny of my money!’
Johnnie leaned down to kiss his aunt’s hand. ‘There’s nothing for it, then,’ he said as he straightened. ‘You’ll have to leave it to the dog.’
