A Proper Scandal Read Online Free PDF Page A

quite shy, really. Timid-like. Easy to manage. How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?”
    â€œFifteen,” Elisabeth said. “Only just.”
    â€œOh. Well.” She thought this over. “Nothing we can do about that, is it ? The old lord wanted a young one, didn’t he? But the boy will expect experience, remember. He will expect me.”
    â€œThis is not helping me,” Elisabeth repeated. She would say it again and again and again.
    â€œIt will be what you make it. Tell him who you are; tell him what happened to you and your parents. Show him the mark that Snill burned into your shoulder. It’ll heal, by the way. Leave a scar, but it will not pain you forever.”
    â€œI don’t want to talk to him! I don’t want to see him at all. Marie, please. I cannot do this.” Elisabeth pulled the course, torn garment over the fiery wound on her shoulder.
    â€œYou can do it, and you will do it,” Marie said, taking her by the hand.
    Voices, loud and slurred, intruded on the hushed tones of their conversation, and Marie held up a hand to quiet her. It was a group. Four men, maybe five. In the taproom below. One of them angry, others laughing. A piece of furniture splintered. Elisabeth squeezed her eyes shut.
    â€œThey’ve come,” whispered Marie. “ ’Tis time. We’ll stash you in my room, and I will go to where Snill left you to wait for the father. Exactly as I’ve said, little miss,” she continued, pulling Elisabeth along. “You must do everything exactly as I’ve said.”

C HAPTER T HREE
    Denby House
Grosvenor Square
May 1811
    I t rained the night of the Countess’s dinner, a foggy, fitting damp. Rainsleigh welcomed it—what else could he expect for his first foray into the inner sanctum of London’s social elite? He’d toiled years for an invitation such as this, but he refused to sail into the evening thinking it would be easy. Old habits died hard. A lifetime of exclusion had prepared him. At the very least, it should rain.
    Ah, but it was just a meal, and on a day when Parliament sat. This guaranteed that the dinner would not run long. Few people of distinction would attend. The best wine, he knew, would not be served. Considering the stack of work waiting for him at home and the rare appearance of his brother, Rainsleigh didn’t really even want to attend. What he’d really wanted had been the invitation. Simply to make the bloody list. The real triumph was access. Now that he had it, it meant inane chitchat with lofty strangers. He immediately wished attendance had been optional. Or not tonight.
    But he had said that he would come. And he was mildly curious. And really, these sorts of engagements were necessary, he knew, if his ultimate goal was to be regarded as equal. A reclusive viscount would be known as a degenerate one, if no one ever saw him.
    Rain meant carriage traffic, lurching and slow, and after ten minutes of waiting, Rainsleigh bade the coachman park behind the last vehicle so he could walk. Soames had outfitted him with hat and umbrella, overcoat and boots. He had not come so far that he could not get wet.
    â€œ My lord . . . ” enthused the hostess, Lady Banning, five minutes later, smiling inside the warm confines of her sprawling entry hall. She reached out, two delicate gloved hands clasping his, and ushered him in. “What a pleasure it is to meet you at last. We’re so pleased that you’ve been able to join us on such short notice, especially when you must be terribly preoccupied with settling in.”
    Rainsleigh bowed over her hands. “The pleasure is all mine, Lady Banning. It was a delight to receive your invitation. We’re practically neighbors now. You are between my new house and the park.”
    â€œThat park!” the countess complained, smiling still. “My niece spends half her time there, regardless of the weather. But you’ve met my niece,