A Lady’s Lesson in Scandal Read Online Free PDF Page A

away to disguise his reaction in a survey of the crowd. Yes, of course Grimston would have acted at once. He was guardian to old Rushden’s remaining daughter; what money went to her, passedthrough his hands first. He’d coveted every penny of the estate, and would no doubt help himself to a good many of them before Kitty attained her majority.
    He drove his hand through his hair as he turned back—pausing midturn as he caught his reflection in one of the pier glasses set around the room to show the guests their wicked antics. In the mirror, he saw a man, more than averagely handsome, more than averagely tall, resplendently fashionable in evening blacks, with an expression on his face of ill-concealed shock.
    The man now smiled faintly. What a clever turn out. He was the very picture of a buffoon as sketched by some cartoonist in
Punch
. The caption beneath his portrait would read:
The wandering rakehell faces his destitution manfully, in the finest French fashions
.
    He released a long breath. The coroneted bankrupt: not very original. He had some small funds tucked away, though. Enough to buy this book, certainly.
    Perhaps he should be more concerned with paying his creditors.
    Comical thought. Who in London actually paid his creditors?
    Simon laughed. It was a strange sound and he watched its effect on his reflection, trying to hold on to that peculiar sensation of looking at himself as a stranger would. It was far more comforting to fathom bad news about oneself when seeing clearly what an ass one was. Then it did not feel so much like bad news as it did a rare piece of justice.
    He turned back to Dalziel, who flinched. “I’ll have the money to you tomorrow morning,” he said. “You will be at home, waiting for me.”
    “Yes, yes,” Dalziel said quickly, gratefully. “I’ll be waiting.”
    Simon swept out a mocking hand. Dalziel shoved off the wall and bolted into the crowd.
    Harcourt looked after him. “Is it true?” he asked quietly. “Are you hard up?”
    “Suffice it to say that I’m in the market for marriage.” He shrugged at Harcourt’s marveling look. He had no objection to the institution. He’d been engaged once, in love not only with the woman but with the idea of becoming a husband to her.
    Of course, in the aftermath of old Rushden’s interference, his tolerance for courtship had eroded. He would not take well to explaining and excusing and proving himself to some wide-eyed debutante.
    The thought actually made him weary. The French probably would diagnose him with a bad case of ennui, but he rather thought that what ailed him was a case of adulthood.
    Harcourt was shaking his head. “Bad timing here.”
    “Indeed.” The season was almost at an end. He’d have to follow the likely prospects north and waste his summer grouse hunting in Scotland.
    Simon laughed softly. He could not believe it had come to this.
    “If you’ll excuse me,” Harcourt said thoughtfully. “I think I’d still like to plant a facer on Dalziel. Meet you outside afterward?”
    Simon remembered with a start his promise to return to Lady Swanby before dawn. It had seemed a fair reward for her good taste in showcasing Andreasson. Her husband, she claimed, was a very sound sleeper. “Not tonight. Possibly tomorrow.” Although most of his day would probably be spent in conference with panicked accountants, solicitors, secretaries, stewards … Sometimes he felt as though half the worlddepended on the fullness of Lord Rushden’s bank accounts.
    “I live in hope,” Harcourt said. With a clap to Simon’s back, he departed.
    A low, sultry voice came from the direction of the table: “Did you scare them off, then?”
    “Hmm?” Simon glanced down at the woman. Her mons veneris and upper thighs were blanketed in nuts. At least she looked to be out of her teens. “No,” he said with a smile, “I’m afraid they got the best of me.” His smile turned into a laugh as he considered the assortment of food laid