Page 2 of Her Sort of Scoundrel
As a result, Dash and Fiona had attended a few of the same social events over the years, but the closeness they’d shared was no longer appropriate. Then, just a few years into their marriage, Prescott had died unexpectedly. A weak heart, or so Dash had heard. For some reason, he’d been unsure how to comfort her, or whether he should even dare to offer to.
While he wrestled with his feelings, she’d come to him, upset and full of nervous energy. He’d made a muck of it and said thoughtless, foolish things that weren’t even true. They’d emerged like an involuntarily shield conjured to guard his heart.
She hadn’t spoken to him since, and after a few attempts to visit and a letter sent to apologize that received no reply, he’d respected her choice to cut him from her life for good.
But he missed her. God, how he missed her. That delicious laugh and her sunflower-blonde hair and that mind of hers, always churning with ideas and plans.
She was just over there. Not a mile away. Depending on where she was in her London townhouse in this fashionable stretch of Belgravia, she might be but a dozen feet away. Yet, for all the ice between them, she might as well have been in the Siberian tundra.
Dash had never wished to speak to her more than he had in the last year.
The death of his cousin Richard had struck Dash hard. When his father died, he’d stiff upper lipped it through the funeral. But Richard’s passing had been far different because he’d bequeathed something infinitely more precious than a title and earldom. Something Dash worried about mucking up in a way that he didn’t about his role in the House of Lords or as master of the Granford estate his father had once helmed.
Richard had left Dash the responsibility of caring for his daughter, Aurelia, a bright seventeen-year-old with all her mother’s beauty and her father’s love for nature. Indeed, the girl all but demanded Dash get out of doors most days, especially on those afternoons when he got busy and was loath to.
Next year, she would have her coming out, and with her looks and charm, Dash suspected she’d be married within her first Season. He felt an enormous responsibility to do right by her. He could not replace the father she’d lost, but he could see that she had all she wished for, that her coming out was a success, that no scoundrel or fortune seeker dared to set his cap at her.
Dash couldn’t ignore the irony of wanting to protect Aurelia from the very men he might have caroused with in the past. Men with reputations as scandalous as his own. He’d once relished his reputation for satisfying many lovers and always being game for a raucous party or a trip to a gambling den.
Now, all that was behind him. He was determined to remain far away from his vices and old habits. Allowing any sort of scandal to touch Aurelia was unthinkable. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—do anything to mar her future.
He glanced at the clock and realized they were late for their daily promenade. By this time, she usually would have come down to cajole him out for a walk in the square or a trip to Hyde Park.
It was certainly a gorgeous day for a stroll. He savored the sunlight streaming through the window. In past months, he would have pulled the curtains shut in his study to cocoon himself with his own worries and grief. Now, he sensed his spirits lifting. Of course, worry still rode his shoulders. There was much to do for Aurelia that he had no notion about. Procuring ladies’ hats, ribbons, gowns, gloves, and so on was not his area of expertise. He’d gifted women jewelry, flowers, perfume, but never clothing.
He’d sent a letter to his sister to ask for help, though with two young ones of her own, he wasn’t sure she’d be willing to leave her home in Derbyshire for next year’s Season. Still, he’d give her a chance to reply. Even if she couldn’t get away from his niece and nephew, perhaps she could recommend a lady who’d be willing to shepherd Aurelia through her coming out.
Pushing his worries away, Dash turned from the window. The arrivals at the Prescott townhouse had ceased, and he imagined ladies gathered around for one of Fiona’s lavish luncheons. He strode back to his study, returned his attention to the solicitor’s letter, and retrieved a fresh piece of paper to craft a reply.
The decision about what to do with Aurelia’s family home could wait for now, but he’d make sure it was well cared for in the meantime.
Just when he began to scratch out a message saying as much, the sound of feminine laughter distracted him.
This time it wasn’t Fiona’s.
Had Aurelia found something to spark that burst of amusement? Since arriving after the death of her father, she’d been friendly, congenial, but she’d rarely giggled with such glee.
Dash made his way into the hallway and immediately encountered the housekeeper, Mrs. Hardy.
“Where is she?” he asked the diminutive gray-haired woman who ran his household with skill and efficiency.
There was no need to specify who he meant. Mrs. Hardy had taken to Aurelia as warmly as all the staff had, and they were watchful and careful with her, empathizing with her loss and doing their utmost to make her comfortable at Granford House.
What Dash didn’t expect was the older woman’s hesitation. She eyed him a moment as if debating whether to answer. Then she finally nodded, as if she’d come to some decision within herself, and said, “This way, my lord.”
She turned on her heel and Dash followed her down the hall, past the stairwell, toward the back garden.
Near the doorway to the conservatory, the housekeeper hesitated.
“I heard giggling,” she told him in a low voice, “and then I found her in the conservatory.”
“Ah,” Dash said, leaving it there. Because explaining why he avoided the conservatory involved details he was not willing to divulge to his housekeeper, regardless of how much he trusted the woman’s discretion.
When Mrs. Hardy continued on toward that sunny, glass-enclosed space, Dash held back.
“Tell Aurelia she can enjoy the conservatory as long as she likes.” She loved greenery and had begun spending more time in the space as the weather had warmed. Dash, on the other hand, already felt the urge to return to his study. “And if she wishes for a walk, she knows where to find me.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Hardy lifted her brows and then dropped them into a confused vee. “I thought you’d wish to see what she’s gotten up to.” The housekeeper glanced toward the conservatory. “And what’s distracted her so entirely.”
