One Night Scandal

“It is a marvelous book. Maybe you should read it again.”

“Perhaps I should.” He opened the book as if he meant to start reading it right now.

“Not now,” she said in an exasperated tone.

“Very well, then,” he said, placing the book back on the table. “Whatever will we discuss over tea?”

As the footman brought in the tray with tea, Nicholas sat back and watched Sophie. She poured two cups and handed him one. Once she sat back, they spent the next hour discussing topics that made Nicholas smile. From the Greek philosophers to modern politics, she was an extremely educated woman. And yet, until today, he’d had no idea. He wondered why she kept her intelligence such a secret.

The hour closed in on four and he knew he had to leave. But he had no desire to depart. He had enjoyed this afternoon more than any other he could remember.

“I should take my leave now.”

She glanced away and nodded slowly. “I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more.”

He held out his hand to assist her from her seat. A spark of desire raced up his arm with the gentle contact. He should not kiss her but as she looked up at him all thoughts of being honorable fled. Dragging her up against his chest, he stared at her.

“Please

don’t kiss me,” she whispered.

He smiled down at her. “Why not?”

“You know why. It will lead to more than a kiss and we cannot do that again.”

“And that would not be good?” he asked with a seductive smile. He wanted to take her upstairs and make love to her all night. But he also knew it would only cause more problems. He admired her being the morally strong one, because he most certainly wasn’t.

“It would be good,” she said with a hint of a smile. “Too good. And cause far too many problems.”

“You are right, of course.” He could wait to kiss her again and during his waiting period, he would court her. He took her hand and kissed it softly. “Good day, Miss Reynard.”

“Good day,” she whispered.

The Duke of Belford sat in his overly large leather chair and tapped his fingers on his cherry desk. It had been well over a week since he’d given his son a list of appropriate women. In that time, his source told him that he had not called on a single woman.

“Lord Witham is here, Your Grace.”

Belford glanced up with a grimace. “Send him in.”

Witham’s call was not unexpected. There was a reason Miss Littlebury’s name was on the top of the list of eligible women. A match between the families would benefit both men. The sound of footsteps preceded Witham’s arrival.

“Your Grace,” Witham said with a bow.

“Come in, Witham.” Belford sat back and waited for Witham to take the seat across the desk from him. “What did you discover?”

“He danced with several women at the Northwoods’ ball. Lady Blackburn, Miss Wainscott, Miss Holden, Miss Smythe, Miss Randall, and Miss Reynard.”

“I know of all of them except Miss Reynard,” Belford said. “Who exactly is she?”

“A matchmaker, Your Grace.” Witham nervously pulled at his waistcoat. “It is said she has the power to read minds and find people their perfect husband or wife.”

Belford laughed sharply until a coughing fit stopped him. Pulling the handkerchief away from his mouth, he noticed a few more specks of blood. “But who is she that Lady Northwood would invite her?”

“People say she is the bastard daughter of an earl and some actress. But no one has actually claimed to be her father. Rumor is he pays for her expenses, but she probably fabricated the story to appeal to the ladies of the ton. Most likely she has a protector paying her expenses.”

Belford’s ire grew. “The daughter of an earl?” Nicholas’s parting remarks were something about the daughter of an earl. He had better not be thinking about Miss Reynard. The duchess needed to be a woman from the right type of family and not some bastard.

“That is what people say. Personally, I do not believe she is anyone of consequence. But there is more, Your Grace,” Witham mumbled, looking down at his hands.