Page 23 of Making of a Scandal
Paul laughed, while Charity gave him an exasperated look. Then, his sister curled her legs beneath her and raised her eyebrows at him.
“What did you want to speak to me about?”
In the wake of his uncle’s revelation, Nick had forgotten all about Calliope. He was glad to have something else to turn his attention to just now, and latched onto Charity’s lifeline with relish.
“I’ve recently made the acquaintance of a lady and had hoped you could tell me more about her.”
Charity perked up at that, her face taking on an expression akin to a startled doe. “Alady?”
“Oh my,” Paul murmured. “Charity, I fear we may face the end of the world as we know it. Your brother is thinking of pursuing an actual lady.”
Nick rolled his eyes. “It isn’t like that.”
“When is it never ‘not like that’ when it comes to you and women?” Charity countered.
“Would you just tell me what you know about Miss Calliope Barrington?”
Anything that would help him with his new keeper would be welcome. She seemed a bit repressed to him, closed off in a way that would make coming to know her difficult. And, the better he knew her, the easier it would be to convince Martin Lewes and the entiretonthat he was courting her.
“Miss Barrington,” Charity murmured, squinting as if deep in thought. “We are not friends, but we have been introduced. I’ve come in contact with her on occasion. She is a well-known patroness of a charitable committee in London. Oh, what’s it called, again? There are so many of them these days … something to do with foundling children, I believe.”
Of course. The woman was prim, proper, and a prude, so it stood to reason she was also a saint who spent her spare time ensuring the welfare of orphans.
“And where does she get the funds for such a thing?” Nick asked, though what he really wanted to know was how she was flush enough to afford him.
“She recently reached her majority, and as she is not wed became the recipient of an inheritance—though no one is certain just how much. Her father is one of those nabobs, you know … went to India in his youth to make his fortune.”
“Her father wouldn’t happen to be Viscount Barrington?” Paul asked.
“The very man,” Charity confirmed. “Though he became the viscount unexpectedly after the death of both his elder brother and the man’s infant son. The babe was the heir to the title, but with his death, the current Viscount Barrington was next in the line of succession. Well, imagine everyone’s surprise when this man they had given no thought to until his brother’s death, turned out to be an officer for the East India Company stationed a world away in Bengal.”
“I remember the scandal that was caused by his ascension to the viscountcy,” Paul remarked. “Barrington had gone native while in India, adopting the customs and clothing of the people there.”
“I heard he even converted to Hinduism in order to court and marry the daughter of a Bengali nobleman. Apparently, his efforts to ingratiate himself into that society worked, for he returned with a legitimate, half-Bengali daughter.”
That would explain the bronze cast of her skin, as well as the alluring shape of her eyes. He’d never heard of this scandal his sister and uncle seemed to know so much about, but then, Nick never paid attention to such matters. Viscount Barrington wasn’t the first man to sire a child on a foreign wife or mistress and bring his offspring back to England, and he certainly wouldn’t be the last.
“What of the mother?” Nick asked, his curiosity stronger than ever.
“Dead,” Charity said with a frown. “The poor woman perished giving birth to their second child—who also did not survive. When Viscount Barrington returned to take his place in society, it was with young Miss Barrington and a collection of servants from India. Rumors swirled for years that he continued dressing as a native while at home—in flowing robes and turbans, and some even said he had a shrine dedicated to heathen gods hidden away in his home. His neighbors called on him every day hoping to get a glimpse of him in his scandalous attire.”
Nick shook his head with a derisive snort. “The man was grieving his dead wife, for God’s sake. Thetonhas no couth.”
“None at all,” Paul agreed. “I seem to remember thinking that the talk must be the reason for his hasty second marriage. Less than a year after his return, he was wed to the viscountess and appearing in society dressed at the height of English fashion and looking every bit the viscount.”
“Yes, though the second wife died five years ago, I believe. They had a daughter, as well … she is now the Countess of Hastings. Despite having no male heir, Viscount Barrington never wed again. I always believed he never recovered from the loss of his first wife. The second was a necessity for the sake of appearances. One can hardly blame him for not wanting to go through it all a third time.”
“Do you know why Miss Barrington remains unwed?” he asked. “It seems odd when she is so … comely.”
Comely seemed far too simple a word to describe Calliope, but Charity already thought he had honorable intentions toward this woman—which was worse than her thinking he haddishonorable ones.
“She is, and a very lovely person, besides,” Charity said. “I honestly cannot fathom why she is unwed. Not only is she a stunning beauty, she is a dear and kind person. Any man would be fortunate to have her.”
Those had been Nick’s thoughts, but he did not share them. All that mattered was that he figure out why Lewes hadn’t yet staked his claim and then do what he could to change that. Pretending to court her would help matters, but Nick thought taking a more active approach would prove more effective. Besides, the sooner he was finished with Calliope Barrington, the sooner he could turn his attention toward Paul. It seemed he had very little time left with his uncle, and wanted to make the best of it—even if he still wasn’t ready to accept his impending loss. There was also the matter of this inheritance to grapple with. Whether he liked it or not, it seemed that very shortly, his life would be forever changed.
Chapter 4
“Last evening marked the Covington’s annual summer ball. I would be remiss if I did not mention the appearance of a certain gentleman—and I do use that word loosely. The youngest son of the Earl of W, he is more frequently seen in the gaming hells than any ballroom, which leads me to wonder if the shameless rake finally intends to settle down and find a wife. Of greater interest is whether any respectable woman will have him.”
