Page 48 of Making of a Scandal
No, no, no. You cannot think that way. This is happening just the way you wanted … do not ruin it with thoughts of Dominick.
“Nothing could keep me from it,” Martin replied, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “I am anxious to make your father’s acquaintance, and find a house party to be the perfect opportunity. He and I will have an important matter to discuss.”
Dread curled in her belly, and Calliope could not understand why she should feel this way.
“Oh?”
Martin chuckled, his thumbs making slow circles against her palms, his gaze intent as it met hers and held. “Surely you cannot be ignorant to my feelings, Calliope. I realize I might have led you to believe I see you as a mere friend, when in truth, you mean so much more to me. May I be so bold as to hope you might return my regard?”
Regard. Feelings.Words that would have sent butterflies flitting through her belly a month ago—words she had longed to hear from this man’s lips. Only now they sounded benign, far too shallow to ears which craved murmurs of passion and devotion, fiery need and filth.
Damn Dominick, he had ruined even this moment for her.
“Of course I do,” she replied, squeezing his hands to reassure him.
The chaste kiss he brushed to the inside of her wrist was dry and lacked impact. There were no goose bumps, no tremors of longing, no innate response. Absolutely nothing.
“Good. I know it might be too soon for me to declare myself this way, but I cannot help it. As well, I’ve been beset by an urgency as of late, as it has not escaped my notice that I face competition.”
Calliope stiffened as the threat of Dominick settled between them, a threat to the future she aspired to. “Martin—”
“You have nothing to apologize for. Why shouldn’t Mr. Burke notice what a fine catch you are? But, I want you to know that I am willing to do whatever it takes to win you. I hope you’ll take this into account when making your decision.”
Calliope stood frozen as he closed in on her in an uncanny replication of the way Dominick had stolen a kiss from her. Long, blond eyelashes closed over flashing blue irises, and soft lips puckered to descend on hers, gentle fingers sliding back into her hair. She responded by rote, her mouth moving against his, her hands coming up to clutch at his arms. Eyes still open, she stared at his lowered lids, his arching eyebrows, his smooth forehead and the golden forelock that fell artfully over it.
The man was handsome, sweet, and perfect … but his kiss left her feeling hollow. There was nothing fundamentally wrong with it. He was gentle and slow about it, as if accounting for her lack of experience—as if he assumed she’d never been kissed.
Dominick had treated her with no such delicacy. He might have been gentle at first, but he had been demanding all the same, forcing compliance and a response that had come from her without a fight. Try as she might, she could not feel the same urgency for Martin, could not make herself surrender to the moment without realizing none of it was how she had envisioned. There were no tremors or soft moans of capitulation, no weakening of her knees or wandering of seeking hands into his thick, blond hair or over his broad shoulders.
He pulled away with a satisfied sigh, his lips curved into a smile as he stroked her cheek. Calliope bit her lip and lowered her eyes, ashamed to stand in his arms and feel nothing, and instead long for the lips of someone who did not deserve her desire or regard.
“I’m sorry,” Martin murmured, releasing her face and stepping a respectful distance away. “I have wanted to do that for quite some time. It is my wish to leave you without a shred of doubt regarding my intentions. After I have spoken to your father, perhaps we might revisit the subject?”
She peered up at Martin, who seemed charmed by what he interpreted as maidenly reticence. No doubt, he imagined her shy and overcome by his ardor—which she supposed could work to her advantage. It would never do for him to know the real reason for the blank stare she leveled at him.
“I would like that very much.”
“Very well. Now, as to the reason for my visit. I’ve recently acquired a new phaeton and was just about to take it out for the first time. I’d like it very much if you accompanied me.”
Calliope forced a smile and hoped she looked more excited than she felt at the prospect of time alone with him. However, she realized what she needed was more time in Martin’s company and less in Dominick’s. Maybe, with enough time and effort, she would forget the earth-shattering power of his kiss enough to enjoy the attentions of her future husband.
“I would love to. If you would give me a moment to retrieve my hat.”
“Of course,” he replied, taking her hand to grace it with another kiss.
It seemed that now they’d crossed the tricky territory from courtship into a near-betrothal, he felt he could be freer in his affections. Calliope pray it was enough to wash away the taste and feel of Dominick for good.
Chapter 9
“Rumor has it, a small house party is taking place in Surrey over the next fortnight in the home of the scandalous Viscount B. I regret to inform you that I received no invitation to this event, though I wish I had … purely in the interest of reporting the undoubtedly scandalous goings-on to my dear readers, of course.”
The London Gossip, September 16, 1819
Nick ignored the chatter of the men around him as he turned the heavy flintlock over in his hands, inspecting it with none of the enthusiasm he ought to feel. He and the other courtesans had been planning this outing to Manton’s Gallery for over a week now. An avid sportsman, Nick had always enjoyed shooting more than any other pursuit—with fencing a close second. Paul had taken him on his first hunting excursion when he’d been a lad, just the two of them, a pair of rifles, and the bracing air of the outdoors. Over the years, he had acquired and consequently pawned several firearms, and was currently in the market for a pair of dueling pistols. Not that he ever thought he’d have cause to use them. However, he had been lusting after this very flintlock for months, along with its twin resting in the cedar box before him. The other courtesans had simply come along for the fun of it, and the chance to practice their own marksmanship—all except Hugh, who had yet to return from an extended wedding trip with his bride.
Benedict, David, and Aubrey stood at his back as he ran a reverent hand over the stunning mahogany finish and silver embellishments of the well-made flintlock, the most beautiful weapon he’d ever held in his hand. However, the excitement over finally being able to afford a pair of the finest pistols money could buy was decidedly absent. All he could think of was Calliope, the dratted house party taking place at her father’s small estate in Surrey in a few days’ time, and the inevitable end of their arrangement.
“Well?” David drawled, peering over his shoulder. “Are you going to stand there all day staring at the thing, or are you going to shoot it?”
