A Proper Scandal Read Online Free PDF Page B

boldness. He’d spent his boyhood with a mother who batted eyelashes and licked lips before she even arose from bed. More often than not, a footman walked away in a better mood. It was a disgrace, one of many. He would not repeat the phenomenon with his own wife.
    He drained the last of his glass and nodded along to Lord Beecham’s drone, raising his eyebrows in faux interest. He was just about to gesture for another drink when movement caught his attention. A flutter. A flash of blue. Out of sheer boredom, he turned to follow it, craning his head.
    It was yet another young woman. In the opposite direction, separate from the party. She was alone, clipping down a staircase at the end of the great hall and holding a piece of unfolded parchment. As she descended, she read. Must be a relative or member of staff , he thought. Clearly, she wasn’t part of the countess’s party. She paid no mind to the raised voices or clinking crystal at the end of the hall, and she was dressed in a simple blue muslin day dress. Rainsleigh almost turned away. Almost, but not quite.
    Casually, he looked again.
    Perhaps it was that she did not descend the stairs so much as float over them. Purposefully but not stridently. Gracefully but with no flounce. She ignored the handrail and did not glance at the rapidly descending marble beneath her feet. The parchment in her hand obscured her face, but he could make out a serene profile, a small ear.
    He looked harder. She appeared . . . Rainsleigh found himself unable to put words precisely how she appeared.
    â€œRainsleigh? Rainsleigh ?”
    Lord Beecham called to him from five feet away.
    The viscount looked up. The baron stood on the threshold of the salon, sputtering and confused.
    â€œForgive me,” Rainsleigh said, stepping back to him. “Lord Beecham, do you know that girl, there? On the stairs?” The question was out before he realized. He pointed. “The young lady?”
    â€œEh?” Beecham craned around.
    â€œNo, not in the salon. There, in the hall. She’s just come down the stairs. It’s difficult to see for the parchment in her hand, but I believe she has—” He blinked. “Yes. Her hair is an odd sort of pale ginger.”
    Beecham squinted down the hall. The young woman had stopped at a sideboard and was rustling in a drawer. She closed it, took up the paper again, and moved on, still not looking up. Now she walked in their direction but stopped at a closed door, halfway down. She reached for the doorknob and pulled it open, speaking to someone on the other side. She gestured. She nodded. She waved the paper in the air. She moved inside the door a step but not all the way.
    Rainsleigh could not see her face. He swore and stepped to the side, angling for a better view.
    â€œOh, there ,” said Beecham, drawing his brows together. “ ’Tis only Lady Elisabeth, the countess’s niece. My wife did not expect her to attend the party, and it appears she was right. Look how she’s dressed at this hour. But she does live here in Denby House. Been a ward of the countess for these many years.”
    â€œ Lady Elisabeth, ” mumbled Rainsleigh, studying the tall, thin half profile visible behind the standing door. He looked at the baron. “Why is she not expected to attend?”
    â€œBit of an odd duck, I’m afraid. She’s lived with the countess since her parents were killed in a carriage raid, years ago. Tragic business, really, but she seems well enough. Although she is never really seen out socially, or so they say. Lady Banning never compelled her to make a proper debut, and she did not, as far as I know. Egad, Rainsleigh, with all the other girls here, you’d do well to stay away from that one. On the shelf, really.”
    Rainsleigh studied the parts of her he could see beyond the standing open door. The slender point of her shoulders. Her elegant back. The gentle slope of her bottom beneath