Page 53 of Making of a Scandal
Chapter 10
“How horribly dull London has become. One can only hope that a certain Surrey house party will result in a delicious scandal to divert us all from the tedium.”
The London Gossip, September 21, 1819
Nick was the last of the guests to arrive. He had been reluctant to leave London after Paul had taken to his bed, complaining of fatigue and weakness. In fact, he’d nearly decided not to go at all and send Calliope his regrets.
“You aren’t going to stand back and let the other man win, are you?” Paul had asked. “You needn’t sit about waiting for me to die when I’ve still some fight in me. Go after your lady and do everything you can to win her. I do not intend to cock up my toes just yet.”
What else could he have done but take Paul up on the offer of using his coach, his heart in his throat the entire way? He had left strict instructions for his sister to send for him should their uncle take a turn for the worse.
During the drive, he had run through all the reasons pursuing Calliope was a terrible idea.
She already had her heart set on Lewes, had been enamored with him from the start. Her opinion of Nick was rather low, and he’d done nothing to change that. She was as pure and good as could be, while the stains of his past misdeeds were too many to ever wash out. He had very little to recommend him other than his bloodline, and even that didn’t amount to much considering he was so far removed from the earldom he might as well be considered a commoner.
But, he hadn’t been able to stop thinking of her. The rare smile she couldn’t seem to help the few times he had amused her; the quirk of an eyebrow just before she made some cutting remark; the fire flashing in her dark eyes when he provoked her; the feel of her lips against his and the arch of her body in his arms when he’d brought her to climax. They had been fully clothed that night at the ball, but damn if it hadn’t been one of the headiest experiences of his life.
He could no longer mistake this for simple lust, try as he might to convince himself otherwise. No woman had ever commanded his single-minded focus. No woman made him want to truly let her know him. For years, he’d been seen as good for nothing more than carousing, gambling, and whoring, so he had reveled like no one else, gambled away his every cent, and made himself into a literal whore. He’d thought himself content with that, but Calliope had forced him to reexamine his position and realize that he couldn’t go on like this.
He couldn’t go on withouther.
So, when he arrived at the residence of the viscount, it was with one mission in mind. He would convince Calliope that he was the better choice, an uphill battle to be sure.
As Thorpe was led off by a servant to unpack Nick’s things, another footman was enlisted to show him to a drawing room, wherein the majority of the guests had gathered. The sound of voices and laughter rang out at him through the open doors, and he guessed rightly that parlor games were afoot.
The bright light of the open space illuminated Calliope, who stood in the midst of the room, all the furniture pushed aside. The other occupants stood about, hands over mouths to keep from laughing as she groped about wearing a blindfold. While several pairs of eyes landed on him, Nick couldn’t take his gaze off Calliope.
She wore yellow again today—which must be her favorite color, for she wore it often. The sharp contrast with her skin made her look like a vibrant bird, the room seeming bland and washed out with her as its focal point. She was laughing, her lips stretched in a smile as she stumbled in his direction. Lewes stood nearby, looking at Nick as if offended by his very presence.
The ladies giggled and flitted out of Calliope’s path, while Nick held his ground. Further into the room, the others watched, amused, as she swept an arm out and narrowly missed taking hold of another woman’s arm.
“Drat,” she muttered, turning back toward him and moving unsteadily forward. “I feel as if I am nearly clear of the room by now.”
“You’re doing fine, Callie!” Diana called out, face pink with the effort not to laugh. “In fact, if you simply continue straight on …”
Lewes made a derisive sound at that, but Nick ignored him, standing right in Calliope’s path and waiting for her to find him. He lifted his hands to catch her when she fell into him, a breathless laugh escaping her as she clung to his biceps.
“Caught you, whoever you are. Now, let’s see … who have I found? You’re too tall to be Papa, I think.”
Her hands slid up his arms and shoulders, and Nick tensed, certain everyone in the room would be able to see his visceral reaction to her. He bit back a desperate groan when her fingers stroked along his neck up to his jaw, her touch featherlight and tortuous.
Calliope’s brow furrowed as she traced the line of his nose up to his brow, her lips parting as she let out a little sound of shock.
“Dominick?” she whispered, so low that only he could hear.
Giving her arms a light squeeze, he let his thumbs stroke over the bare skin just below her sleeves. “Hello, goddess.”
She stiffened with a little gasp, using one hand to push up her blindfold. Then, she was staring up at him in disbelief, lips parted and eyes wide enough to drown in. Nick swayed toward her, and just barely reined himself in before dipping his head to steal a kiss. There would be time enough for him to get her off alone, and the last thing he wanted was to publicly ruin her.
“M-Mr. Burke!” she exclaimed a bit louder, her voice shrill as she took his arm and spun to face the other occupants of the room. “How terrible of you not to announce your arrival. I suppose you must wear the blindfold next since I captured you and guessed correctly. But first, I want to introduce you to everyone.”
Nick greeted Hastings and the countess, giving a short nod to Lewes, who looked as if he wanted nothing more than to snatch Calliope away from him. It only made him tuck her hand more securely into the bend of his arm, content to keep her near him as long as she would allow it. All the better if their proximity caused Lewes upset. He hoped the man choked on his jealousy.
He was then introduced to a pair of gray-haired matrons who turned out to be Calliope’s great-aunts Doris and Louisa. The slender one gave him such a look of disapproval that his knuckles began to tingle as he remembered the rap of the ruler wielded by his childhood governess. The other aunt sniffed and stroked the head of a rather portly pug, who snorted at him as if he were as unimpressed with Nick as his owner.
Then, he came face to face with the viscount. Despite Nick standing a whole head taller than the man, Calliope’s father gave off an air of command that had him standing up straighter and hoping his cravat wasn’t askew.
“Papa, may I introduce Mr. Dominick Burke? Mr. Burke, my father, Viscount Barrington.”
