Page 85 of Making of a Scandal
These people had never really liked or accepted her, aside from the patronesses of the home, her sister, and a handful of others—and she was reasonably confident they would continue to do so. It had to be enough. What was there to fear other than the trivial things she now realized didn’t matter? She’d almost lost her chance … she wouldn’t make that mistake again.
“Yes,” she called out, taking a step toward him.
Nick’s smile could rival the sun with its brilliance, and he let out a surprised huff, hands coming into his hair and pulling as if to assure himself this was really happening.
Another step, and she was brought up short, Martin’s hand tightening painfully around her arm. She’d forgotten him just that quickly, but he was a very real, furious presence, one that refused to relinquish her.
“What the devil do you think you are doing? In case you have forgotten, you chose me, you are promised tome, and I will not stand here and be embarrassed this way!”
“I am sorry Martin,” she whispered, prying his fingers off her arm and backing away. “But the fact that you are more concerned with how this makes you look, as opposed to losing the woman you were going to marry, should be enough for you to realize we nearly made a horrible mistake. I cannot marry you … I’m so sorry.”
She whirled away from him before he could react, the length of her saridraped over one arm and her skirts held in her opposite hand as she closed the distance between herself and Nick. Bottoms left pews and necks craned, and it seemed no one wanted to miss a thing as she dashed away from her groom and into the arms of the most scandalous rake in London—who had just cemented his reputation by publicly pilfering someone else’s bride.
His hand was in hers and then he was pulling her alongside him, dashing down the aisle amid raised voices and the shuffle of bodies rising from pews as everyone followed their progress. Calliope heard the voices of her father and her sister, mingling with those of Lewes and his family—bickering and shouting, some in her defense, some casting aspersions. But, she forgot them all when she looked to Nick, who stared back at her as they cleared the doors and stepped out onto the portico.
They stumbled to a stop, laughing and panting for breath—his face a mirror image of her own shock over what they’d just done. The shift between them happened at once, smiles fading and laughter quieting as she took both his hands in hers.
“I love you,” she declared, a wide, unrestrained smile stretching her lips as she finally allowed the words free of her throat. “I love you, Nick, and I’m so sorry … I should never have put you through this, but I was so afraid—”
He tugged her hands, jerking her against him and kissing her soundly. She clung to him, weak from the overwhelming power of his mouth on hers, pressing, probing, ravenous. He kissed her as if he’d been starving for her all this time, as if he’d thought he would never have another chance to touch his mouth to hers.
Then, he took his face in her hands and held her away from him, staring down at her as if beholding the most wondrous sight in the world.
“I don’t care. I was afraid, too … afraid I wouldn’t be good enough, that you would never come to love me. But, if you can love me despite who I was or what I’ve done, then nothing else matters.”
“No,” she agreed, wrapping her arms around his waist and leaning into him, craving closeness and oneness with him after so much time apart. “None of it matters. I don’t care who came before me, because now you’re mine. Thank you for giving me one last chance to make the right choice. It never felt right, but I thought I’d lost you for good.”
“Never. I am yours, completely and forever.”
“Burke!”
Martin’s voice snapped through the air like the lash of a whip, and Dominick released her, turning just in time to meet the fist flying at his face.
Calliope cried out as he reeled backward, falling into the nearest column and pressing a hand against his jaw. A flurry of motion announced the arrival of those pouring out of the cathedral—her father, her sister and Hastings, Mr. Sterling, Martin’s family. All stood by, open-mouthed as Lewes charged Dominick like an enraged bull, fist raised to strike again. Nick straightened, licking at his bloodied lip and stepping forward to meet him. Mr. Sterling appeared between them, shouldering Nick aside and holding a hand up to push against Martin’s chest.
“That’s enough,” he barked. “Get a hold of yourself, Lewes.”
“Like hell I will,” Martin seethed, face flushed as he pointed an accusing finger at Nick. “This man has offered me insult, and I will have satisfaction. Name your second, Burke.”
Calliope’s throat constricted, and she clutched Diana’s arm as the gravity of Martin’s challenge weighed upon her. “No! Martin, please … this was my fault, not his. Please, don’t—”
“Ben?” Nick asked, ignoring her protests and turning to his friend.
Mr. Sterling grimaced, but gave a jerky nod. “Of course.”
Diana wrapped her arms around Calliope’s waist to hold her back, as she tried to insert herself between them and put a stop to a duel that could end with one of them being hurt or killed.
“Nick, don’t!”
“Weapons?” Martin challenged.
“Pistols,” Nick replied without breaking the other man’s gaze. “Putney Heath, midnight?”
“Done.”
With that, Martin turned to stride away, his brother and parents on his heels. Diana released her then, and Calliope flew at Dominick, clutching at his lapels and rattling him until he finally seemed to remember her presence.
“What could you be thinking? Nick, he could kill you!”
