Page 35 of Making of a Scandal
Searching for her voice, she did her best to attend the task at hand. She was never quite able to shake her awareness of Dominick, who loomed on the periphery of her vision like some kind of inescapable specter.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
Chapter 6
“It seems the world may soon come to an end. Glance out your windows and keep a weather eye for flying pigs. Think you I exaggerate? You need only to have witnessed the sight I beheld yesterday afternoon to be convinced. That most infamous son of the Earl of W … visiting a London foundling home along with acharityorganization. Why, I’d never thought I’d see the day! Of course, it could simply be a matter of a certain heiress who happens to be a patroness of the home. In fact, I also spied a certain future viscount amongst the party in question. It seems the stakes have just been raised.”
The London Gossip, September 3, 1819
As it turned out, not only was Calliope a saint, she was also a damned good patroness and committee organizer. Dominick had been prepared for a yawn-inducing afternoon listening to women titter about orphans and funds, and whatever else they got up to at these meetings. He’d been grateful for the tea, as drinking it would give him something to do other than sink into the settee and doze off.
He could not have been more surprised to watch Calliope take control of the committee with a deft understanding of the home she gave her money to, as well as a confident command of the people around her. Most of the women here were a decade or more older than her, with the exception of her sister, yet snapped to attention with nothing but a word from her. She ruled them like the strictest of governesses, jotting down notes on Mrs. Fisher’s list as she led the discussion on the needs of the home and the allocation of funds for the month.
Dominick had always been adept at turning figures over in his head without nary a scrap of paper in sight. As Calliope and her committee talked, he couldn’t help mentally adding and subtracting as they voted for or against various expenditures. He realized as he watched her make her notes, that she was doing the exact same thing—running the figures in her head, and, without second-guessing her calculations, informed the committee whether something could be afforded based on the monies already apportioned.
By the time she stood to announce the meeting was adjourned, an hour and a half had passed. Nick stood and set his untouched tea aside, realizing he’d hardly felt the time passing by, so engrossed had he been with watching Calliope excel at something she so obviously enjoyed. He could imagine her a general leading troops into battle as he fell in step among the others to follow her on their tour of the home. Mr. Lewes offered his arm, but she refused it, choosing instead to continue making notes with her stub of a pencil while they made their way through the corridors.
The foundling home was nothing like he would have imagined—not that Nick had ever been inside such a place. The efforts of its patronesses were clear in the bright decor of each room, as well as the abundance of coal for keeping fires lit, toys and books, and even the hearty food the children consumed at every meal.
She took them to the empty schoolroom and introduced them to Mr. Young, the tutor, and interviewed the man about his needs for the schoolroom. Then, she led them into the attached music room—a small, cramped space containing a harpsichord, violin, and lute—informing the rest of the committee that their efforts at expanding the available instruments would commence at their next meeting. There were three outer courtyards off each small wing of the home—one housing the herb and vegetable garden, one for the cultivating of flowers, and another for the purpose of play.
From there, they ascended to the upper floors, where they inspected the dormitories, which were separated by age and sex. The uppermost room turned out to be a nursery for the infants, and was filled wall to wall with cradles. Three matrons in aprons tended to them with soft coos and murmurs, their affection for the babes clear.
Naturally, the women in their company collapsed into fits of awe at the sight of the babies, and they descended like a flock of sighing birds. Babes were taken into arms and paraded about, each lady gasping or exclaiming over some thing or other that their infant had done.
Even Calliope set her notes aside long enough to crouch and bring a babe of at least two years onto her hip, bouncing and murmuring to the child as naturally as if she’d birthed him herself. Nick leaned against the door frame and watched as Martin Lewes made his way over to Calliope. His teeth clenched as the man stood far too close, bending his head to murmur something in her ear. She smiled at him, then urged the baby in his direction. Lewes faltered, brow furrowed as if uncertain, but Calliope offered him an encouraging smile and said something Nick couldn’t make out. His teeth began to ache from the grinding motion of his jaw, something unpleasant and unmistakable washing over him at the sight of them together, Calliope handing the baby into Lewes’s arms and looking at him with such adoration in her eyes that it made him feel physically ill.
He didn’t want to acknowledge what he felt, but the longer he watched them, the more apparent it became.
He was jealous. No, that was too mild a term, though it was the only one that would do, it seemed. He was beset by mind-numbing, jaw clenching, belly-churning, murderous jealousy. Because, watching them coddle a baby between them only made him think of the fact that eventually, these two would have offspring of their own. It didn’t matter that Lewes looked uncomfortable and completely unnatural holding the babe, or that they had made no real progress toward an eventual marriage. If Nick did his job well, they’d be wed by the end of the year, which meant babies would follow close behind.
And that only made him think of what a couple needed to do in order to procreate, which made the itchy, burning sensation of envy all the worse. He felt like he would burst out of his skin at the thought of Lewes taking Calliope to bed—a privilege that could never be Nick’s.
“They look lovely together, do they not?”
Nick blinked and found Diana at his side, bouncing a sleeping newborn.
“Yes,” he forced himself to admit, though the word tasted rancid on his lips. They were well matched, Lewes’s golden coloring a sharp but pleasant contrast to Calliope’s dark beauty.
“Of course, nothing is guaranteed. Lewes has been slow to declare himself. Who knows? Perhaps another admirer will make himself known and provide a bit of real competition.”
Nick scowled, already annoyed at the thought of another man vying for Calliope’s attention. He was having a difficult enough time keeping his violent impulses in check when Lewes was near.
Diana’s smile became sly, her eyes glittering with girlish mischief. “Oh yes. I can see it happening, even now.”
He was startled to realize that she was referring tohim. Which was ridiculous. He had been hired to help her catch the other man, and Diana herself had been behind the idea. What a ridiculous thing for her to suggest! He absolutely couldn’t pursue Calliope, no matter how difficult it was to keep his eyes or his hands off her. It was out of the question.
“I’m so sorry to have to leave you now, little one,” Calliope cooed to her baby before setting him back on the rug in a scattered circling of toys. “But I must look in on the other children. I will see you again soon, sweeting.”
She patted the top of the child’s head, prompting the other ladies to return their babies and prepare to move on. Several longing looks were cast back into the nursery, but they eventually made their way back downstairs only to find that the large, airy room where the children spent their downtime was now overrun. Having just finished their luncheon, they’d apparently been allowed a reprieve before they must return to their studies.
Nick could only stand and take it all in. Mismatched chairs were arranged near a hearth flanked by large bookcases. Some of the older children sat there to read, one with what looked like a younger sibling perched on his knee as he related his story aloud. Tin soldiers were engaged in a mock battle in the hands of little boys in one corner, while dolls were rocked and coddled by girls in the other. Balls flew back and forth, skipping ropes whipped through the air, and spinning tops skittered across the floorboards. The din was nearly deafening, an amalgamation of laughter, shouts, and indistinguishable words.
Their company dispersed, Lewes sticking close to Calliope as she skirted the perimeter of the room, she with her notes and pencil at the ready. The other patronesses spread throughout the room, greeting various children and patiently listening to childish stories of inconsequential nonsense.
Nick found an empty chair in the corner and went to claim it, needing a moment away from everyone else to compose himself. His surprising possessiveness over a lady who didn’t even like him had caught him off guard. It wasn’t like him to pine after a woman. If one didn’t want him, there were others who would willingly have him. Why concern himself with one who spurned him, when he could avail himself to all the rest?
Sleep and a good, hard fuck—that was what he needed. He’d achieve both tonight if it killed him, but for now he would make it through what was left of the afternoon without snapping Lewes’s neck.
