It's Beginning to Look a lot Like Scandal

“Yes, of course,” the countess said, slightly flustered, throwing her son a bemused frown. “Please join us, Miss Markham.”

“You must be chilled, please sit close to the fire,” said the viscountess with a slight smile, her eyes glowing with merriment. She was the wife of Gabriel’s brother, George, Viscount Weatherton, and Primrose found her to be lovely.

“Our Miss Markham has a frightful habit of taking long walks even when the weather is dreadful, and you look positively frozen,” the viscountess said, waving her hand toward the chaise lounge closest to the merrily crackling fire.

Though she wanted to flee to compose herself, perhaps change from the gown with its sodden hems and unlace her stiff corset, she made her way over to the chaise lounge and lowered herself into its plush comfort, grateful to be a bit away from everyone else. She needed time to calm the furious pounding in her heart and the joy burning through her fevered soul. She struggled to keep the smile from her lips and the heat from her cheeks. No doubt she appeared flushed, and the countess kept throwing her narrowed glances heavy with suspicion.

Gabriel shifted on the sofa, the move causal and unassuming, but it was to keep her in his line of sight. For he stared at Primrose, far longer than was polite. The dratted man. Still, she smiled, so desperately wanting to hug herself. Determined not to look his way, she directed her gaze to the wide windows on the open lawns.

Gabriel conversed with his family, patiently answering all their questions of the places he’d been in the last year. His voice was more vibrant and deeper, more confident than she remembered. Soon she became fascinated by his tales, and she shifted ever so slightly, so she could discreetly peek at him. Gabriel was so incredibly lovely to look upon.

Her gaze roved over him, drinking in every detail. His mannerism was different, subtle…compelling even, and vastly appealing. Primrose sensed he had grown accustomed to giving orders. Very different from the young man who'd seemed to reside in his older brother’s shadow as the spare to the heir. Gabriel had lost weight, his length more corded with muscles, and held a power to it which had been absent before. His hair was longer, his cheekbones more pronounced….but his eyes, they were the same —lively, curious, intelligent, and self-assured. She saw no darkness there, and she almost cried her relief that the war had not indelibly changed the charming, amiable, and good-natured gentleman she fell in love with.

Taking a risk, she winked, and he smiled.

The countess glanced around then leveled her gaze back on her son. “I’ve sent word to Lady Caldwell and her daughter, Lady Beatrice, that you’ve returned.”

“You have?” Gabriel said with mild surprise.

“Yes. I instructed Mabry to send a note.”

And Primrose knew the butler had already responded to his mistress’s orders.

“I’m certain Lady Caldwell will be happy to hear you are well. She’s enquired much after your wellbeing. You know how expectant your father and I are about an alliance with Earl Caldwell’s family.”

There was a tense, almost expectant pause. Primrose stared outside the windows, almost too afraid to glance around. White flakes dropped from the sky, blanketing the grass in pristine white.

“I’ve just returned Mother. I only want to see my family and help with the preparations for Christmas,” he murmured.

“Nonsense, Gabriel, Lady Beatrice has enquired after your return home several times. Such a thoughtful and well-mannered young lady, I’m sure you’d be delighted to partner with her for our annual New Year’s carriage ride to Derbyshire. I’ve invited them to our table tomorrow, for they are quite alone in that monstrosity of their country home since the Earl passed away, and their son is in India and shows no inclination to return to England and assume his responsibilities to his family and title. A dreadful state of affairs.”

Primrose stood, unable to bear hearing anymore. For she knew the countess would soon begin to extol Lady Beatrice’s charm and grace, and should Gabriel agree Primrose would likely pluck his eyes out. And that insipid thought was enough to make her realize it had not been wise to miss her afternoon nap after being awake most of the night, reading over his old letters.

“If you will excuse me, I’ve some presents to wrap for the servants.”

Gabriel stood, his eyes dwelling on her person. With a quick curtsy, she hurried away, her legs trembling so badly they could barely support her as she left the room. Could they truly have a future together? Or would her hopes and heart be dashed because she’d inadvertently set them above her station?

Chapter 2

Primrose darted up the stairs to the second floor, down the winding hall lined with ancient Northcote portraits and slipped into her room. There she leaned against the cold oak door, fighting to control her breathing. The room was dark save for the low fire burning in the hearth. She did not make to light the single lamp by the bedside. How long she leaned against the door, she could not ascertain, but after a while, Primrose made her way to the hearth and stoked the fire to a nice roar.

With jerky movements, she made her way over to the armoire, opened the latch, and tugged at the few dresses she had. She would pack her valise and hope the roads would not be impassable and discourage travel. Now that she'd seen that he'd stayed well and quite alive, she could spend the rest of the holidays with her Aunt Agatha and Cousin Jane in Durham. Primrose would have to politely cry off her acceptance to dine with the countess and earl for Christmas once again. Lady Annabelle would not return to the schoolroom until mid-January, and Primrose was not needed until that time. And worse, what if Gabriel was inclined to wed Lady Beatrice? Primrose had no wish to be at the manor to witness Gabriel courting the charmingly beautiful Lady Beatrice.

It was for the best, for Primrose had nothing to recommend her, and he deserved much better than her. The pure gold necklace, with the attached ring nestled between Primrose’s breasts, suddenly felt cold. Only a piece of jewelry and it held none of the wicked passion and breath-taking promise it had been gifted with, promises which had kept her warm on many lonely nights. A pang tore through her, weakening her.

Snapping her spine taunt, she hardened herself against the emotions. It wasn’t that she didn’t love Gabriel. She did, quite earnestly. But Primrose would never allow her heart to love a man with such depth, that his loss would render her a shadow of herself. Her mother had done that after papa had died. She had followed him to the grave only three months later, and everyone had stupidly murmured inane platitude such as ‘she could not live without him,' ‘such love is rare,' and then there was her favorite one. ‘It is the grief of her loss of Edgar which took her.’ Everyone had thought for love, it was quite fine for her mother to leave a thirteen-year-old daughter without any parent in the world. Primrose loved Gabriel very much, and while she allowed the possibility he could injure her heart, he would never be able to break it.

She would leave tomorrow for Durham, to spend the rest of the wintry holidays with her only relatives. Primrose would give him enough time with Lady Beatrice, and if he still wished to court Primrose, she would be available upon her return. Her reasoning felt pragmatic, but as she tugged her valise from underneath her bed, her hands trembled fiercely. Hopefully, Aunt Agatha would welcome her unexpected arrival. Though Primrose sent a portion of her wages to her aunt and cousin Jane, they lived in strained circumstances. Primrose hadn't wanted to add to the burden of an extra mouth to feed for the holidays. However, she had some savings, thirty pounds, and she would stop in the village and buy gifts and extra food before she arrived.

Having packed, she sat on her bed, which gave a slight creak under her weight. She stared out through the small glass panes of her window into the dull grey sky with a hint of orange cast by the receding sun.

It wasn’t time to rest her head. And usually, after a long walk along the path of the surrounding meadows, she would visi

t the library and select a book to keep her company for a few hours before retiring to bed. However, she did not want to encounter Gabriel in the halls or on the lower floors. Her nerves felt too raw, her heart felt too anxious. It was best he spent what was left of the evening hours with his family. Tomorrow would be enough time to see Gabriel, even though she missed him so dreadfully.

Lowering herself she unlaced her boots and tugged them off. Then she stood and undressed, removing her winter bonnet, the wide puff-sleeved day dress, the stiff corset, and crinoline, and hung them in the armoire. Primrose left her chemisette on and tugged the flowing white cotton nightgown from the peg and put it on.

Fat heavy drops of rain descended from the sky, slapping against the glass panes like pebbles. With a contented sigh, she turned down the coverlets on her bed. How she enjoyed snuggling in the warmth of the blankets, listening to the rain as she drifted to sleep.