Scandal In The Snow
NADINE MILLARD
Prologue
Dearest Readers
It would appear as though the rumours are true.
Sir A. D’s pockets are well and truly to let. While the beleaguered baron and his long-suffering wife Lady C have been desperately keeping up a charade of wealth, we have heard ever-increasing stories of servants being let go, and the family silver turning up in disreputable establishments in the wrong side of Town.
One can only assume that Sir A’s penchant for gambling has finally led to his demise.
It has been said that the family will remain in London for Christmastide rather than returning to their comfortable country seat in Essex.
Can it be that the baron can no longer afford to run two homes? This writer certainly thinks so.
And one can only wonder as to what will become of the man’s two daughters. Will their dowries survive this shocking change in circumstances? Will their names survive the humiliation? And will their mother ever be able to marry them off now?
With both ladies out, it would be prudent for Lady C to try to bring at least one gentleman to heel. And it’s no secret that the eldest girl has caught the eye of the rather dashing and obscenely wealthy Lord F.
The man’s reputation isn’t exactly spotless, of course. And no self-respecting mama would want her daughter attached to a man whose penchant for opera singers, and dancers is legendary.
But then, one supposes, beggars cannot be choosers.
What’s to become of them all?
As soon as we have an answer to these questions, so will you.
One
“This is a bad, nay, a terrible idea. I’ve told you that a hundred times,” Olivia Darington hissed at her sister Jane as they hurried through the icy streets of London. Their satin slippers would be quite ruined by the time they arrived at Lord Fincham’s townhouse. Not to mention what was left of their tattered reputations.
“And I toldyouthat if you don’t like it, you don’t have to come. You weren’t even invited in any case.”
Olivia merely scowled at her irascible sibling. Though Jane may be two years older, she certainly wasn’t two years wiser. If anything, she seemed to be getting ever more idiotic with age.
Bad enough that those nasty scandal sheets had dried up their social calendar faster than a drought in July. There was no need to add to the gossip by flitting about London with one of its most sought after bachelors.
Well, that was just fine.
If Jane wanted to flit and flirt with Lord Fincham then Olivia would be there to watch her. Judgementally.
What Jane even saw in the scoundrel Olivia didn’t know. Perhaps he was conventionally handsome with his broad shoulders, and sable hair, distractingly green eyes, and chiselled chin. But he was also irascible and wicked and altogether dangerous to be around. Olivia knew this from experience. And so did Jane, come to that. Years spent growing up on a neighbouring if far more modest estate to the late earl’s had taught Olivia that Alexander Stratford was as pleasant as cow dung. But for some reason Jane seemed to have forgotten a childhood spent being tormented by the arrogant earl and his odious friends. Olivia would never forget.
Even now, all these years later, she could still feel the worms in her hair, the dirt in her boots, the spiders in her bed…
If she were inclined to being fair, she would admit that the earl and his circle had been among the very few people who hadn’t turned their backs on the Daringtons when Papa’s gambling had essentially had them unceremoniously dumped from theton. But regardless of it being Christmastide, and therefore the season of good will, shewasn’tinclined to be fair, and so her mood remained foul, and her nerves remained frayed. She would continue trying to get her sister to back out of this less than salubrious house party that the earl was hosting, no doubt for the very dregs of Society. People did like to mix with their own kind, after all.
“You’ve made your feelings about this party, and Alexander come to that, quite clear,” Jane continued now. “And –“
“Alexander?” Olivia interrupted. “My, aren’t we cosy?”
Jane rolled her eyes.
“We’ve been friends since childhood, Livvy.”
“I think you’ll find we’ve beenenemiessince childhood, Jane,” she countered fiercely. “How can you forget the things he did? It took me almost two days to unstick my fingers from that teacup.”
