A Kiss to Spark a Scandal - Chapter 5

Freddie had arrived at the edge of the bluebell clearing just in time to witness Dot and his rival leave it, so he remained hidden behind a tree until they were long gone, then pounded Lady Bulphan’s grounds for the next hour while he considered what to do. By the time he marched back to the house, he was resolute. He was going to tell her how he felt, throw his hat into the ring and to hell with the consequences. He had never properly courted a woman before, had always avoided it, but for some inexplicable reason this felt right.

Downstairs was deserted, with all the guests off resting before the final evening’s entertainment, so he resigned himself to having to wait for dinner. He was en route to the stairs when he saw her coming out of the library—alone.

‘Dot! Wait!’ He sprinted down the hallway towards her, skidding to a stop while she hugged a book to her chest like a shield. He wished he had rehearsed something to say because he had no earthly idea how to start what was probably the single most important conversation of his life so far. ‘Can we talk?’

In case she said no, he caught her elbow and gently led her back into the library. Fortunately, there was nobody else there to witness his discomfort and potential humiliation, but that did nothing to make him feel any better. Neither did she, because she stood before him as silent and still as a statue.

‘You see, the thing is…’ He raked an agitated hand through his hair while he searched his mind for some words. Any words. ‘Yesterday…our kiss…’ Her eyes widened at that, which did not fill him with hope. ‘Well, it turns out that kiss rather knocked me sideways and…’

Good grief, man! Stop shilly-shallying and get to the point!

‘It meant something, Dot. Something wonderful. And it confirmed all the suspicions I have had since the day of the Queen’s Ball…that I have feelings for you. Strong feelings.’ Now he was being cowardly! ‘Romantic feelings. Not my usual sort either—where I am that bee you accused me of being who flits from rose to rose—but the serious sort. The contemplating forever sort.’ Forever! Good grief! ‘In fact, I think I am falling in love with you.’ He sighed at that because those exact words did not feel quite right. ‘Actually, I think I might have already fallen in love with you, which I know sounds like utter madness after just one kiss, but there it is. But love is utter madness, isn’t it? Or so all the poets say, and I think…in fact I am pretty certain…that you are my thunderbolt…’ That had to be what had knocked him sideways. Why this all felt so necessary and pressing.

‘So, I was wondering…’ Freddie was light-headed now. Giddy. Excited for his future and scared she wouldn’t be in it. Yet was still resolute that this was the right thing to do, so he sucked in a calming breath and blew it out slowly. ‘I was wondering if you would consider me as a suitor.’

Her reaction at that was not at all what he expected.

As much as he hoped she would throw herself into his arms, he wasn’t daft enough to believe it would be that simple. He had prepared himself to witness shock, some resistance and perhaps even rejection. What he wasn’t prepared for was for her lovely blue eyes to instantly fill with tears or to hear her say, ‘It’s too late,’ as she hugged the book she was carrying closer. Nor was he prepared to see the jewel glistening on her wedding finger.

‘Peter finally proposed—’ there was an unmistakable catch in her voice, as unmistakable as the bitter regret in her eyes ‘—and I had to say yes. I had no choice.’ And with that, as his poor heart shattered, she scurried away without a backwards glance.

****

Bond Street, six weeks into the Season…

‘Oh, it’s perfect!’ Her mother clapped her hands at the new gown as the modiste fiddled with the final pin. ‘You shall be the belle of your own betrothal ball!’

The ball tonight had been planned months in advance, because her parents always hosted one of the most lavish balls of the Season, but after Peter’s proposal, they had hastily changed its purpose. That change had been announced in The Times alongside their engagement notice within a day of the ugly ring arriving on her finger.

That, like everything else which had happened since, had all been taken out of her hands in a flurry of preparations. The wedding date was set for three weeks hence to coincide with parliament’s summer recess signalling the end of the Season, St George’s was booked, the invitations sent and the first of the banns would be read tomorrow at the Sunday service. Even this gown had been made without any of her involvement at all, and while it was quite lovely, it wasn’t what her heart would have chosen, any more than her fiancé was.

It was impossible not to feel depressed by that, especially now that she knew Freddie loved her. Worse, if indeed her situation could be any worse, all her symptoms suggested that she loved Freddie back.

She couldn’t explain why, because it was utter madness to fall in love on the back of one kiss. Yet while they had avoided one another at all costs, she had thought about him constantly. Every single time she had seen him across a ballroom since, her poor heart bled at the mirrored yearning in his eyes and another part of her died.

‘Peter is in for a lovely surprise when he gets home later.’ Her mother was still cooing over the gown. ‘And they do say absence makes the heart grow fonder.’ Dorothea sincerely doubted that, as her new fiancé’s prolonged visit to his friend Toby’s estate since the official announcement had been a blessed relief to her. It had meant that, with him at least, she hadn’t had to pretend to be excited about their nuptials, when if anything, she was dreading them more.

Her mother followed the modiste to discuss her trousseau, so a superfluous Dorothea dressed and wandered outside to wait in the sunshine. To her horror, her brother, George, turned the corner with the only man she couldn’t stop thinking about.

Freddie’s feet faltered mid-step before he pasted a bland smile on his face.

‘Is your betrothal gown a triumph?’ Her brother grinned. ‘Or is it a much too tight disaster.’

‘Of course it’s a triumph and it fits a treat.’ Her own smile felt so fake it hurt. ‘What brings you to Bond Street when you hate shopping?’

‘We are on a quest to buy books to cheer up Freddie’s sister while she convalesces. The wretch is headed home and abandoning me to face all those hideous debutantes alone.’

‘You’re leaving, Freddie?’ She hadn’t realised how much she had been hoping a miracle would happen to save her until she heard that. ‘When?’

‘Tonight.’ His voice was clipped. His eyes stormy. There was anger in them, pain and a great deal of disappointment in her. ‘Good luck with the marriage, Dot.’

He inclined his head politely, excusing himself to march towards the bookshop, but turned at the last minute to stare deep into her soul. ‘I hope your new slippers fit as well as your new gown. I hear there’s nothing worse than ill-fitting shoes.’