Page 4 of The Vagabond Viscount
Red and white silk sashes had been draped over the frames of various paintings on the walls, but the frayed edges of several pieces marked them as not being new.
“Yes, well it makes sense to work within a budget. Flowers die so quickly, and silk is expensive,” replied Augusta.
At this time of the year, roses were a costly indulgence. Even her own mother, the Duchess of Mowbray, drew the line on paying for hot-house flowers in January.
Lady Catrin eyed Augusta and Victoria slowly up and down. Augusta gritted her teeth. Her cousin was taking stock of their attire. Silently passing judgment on their gowns, jewelry, and hair. “And didn’t they have two daughters married this past year? That would have cost a pretty sum,” added Victoria.
“Well, one shouldn’t host parties if one’s purse is too thin,” huffed Catrin.
It was nothing new. Augusta mirrored her sister’s response to their cousin’s rude behavior and adopted a carefully managed air of disinterest.
One day you will be on the receiving end of someone else’s judgment, and I can guarantee you will not like it.
Victoria caught Augusta’s eye and shook her head. There would be plenty of time to discuss relatives and their lack of manners once they got home.
“I do so love your gown, Catrin. Is it new?” asked Victoria.
Catrin was dressed in a pale pink gown with a dark pink velvet-trimmed bodice. In her hair glittered a silver tiara. The headpiece matched perfectly with the pearl drop necklace and earring set she also wore. The earl’s sister could have easily passed the dress standard for attending a formal function at Buckingham Palace rather than just a simple party in central London. Augusta imagined that Catrin had rarely heard the word understated. And if she had, she didn’t care for it.
Victoria’s question was, of course, a foolish one. There could be no doubt that Lady Catrin’s gown was new. She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing the same gown twice. Her brother Bartholomew, Earl Shale, had in Augusta’s opinion, an unfortunate habit of indulging all his siblings. She had long suspected it was due to him having a lingering sense of guilt over not being present when his father had suddenly taken ill and died. Bat, as he was known, rarely said no to Catrin.
In reply to Victoria’s question, Catrin simply gave a regal nod. “So, what were you two sweet things discussing earlier? I noticed you were staring at the receiving line. Was there a particular person you were waiting for?” she asked.
She loved her cousin dearly, but Augusta’s tolerance for Lady Catrin Shale’s need to poke her nose into everyone else’s business only went so far. It stopped well before it reached the subject of Viscount Flynn Cadnam. The last thing she wanted was for Catrin to put two and two together and start a rumor.
The day you find out about Flynn and me is when the wedding invitation arrives at your mother’s door. And not a minute sooner.
“Actually, we were having a small wager on the state of the supper offerings. G thinks they will be serving small cakes and sandwiches, whereas I believe they will be going for a full buffet effort,” offered Victoria.
Thank you, Victoria.
Catrin raised an eyebrow, but if she had seen something, she wisely kept her silence. Anyone who had been watching the Kembal siblings closely would know full well they hadn’t been discussing food. But while Catrin was quite happy to tell all manner of tales when the mood suited her, her cousins knew enough of her own wicked secrets to be certain that the Earl of Shale’s sister wouldn’t press them for more information.
“Yes, I was just going to pop into the supper room to settle our bet. Why don’t you accompany me, cousin dearest? You are always such a good judge of these things,” said Victoria.
Augusta could have kissed her sister for the suggestion of spiriting Catrin away. With her nosey cousin out of the way, she would have the perfect opportunity to slip unnoticed out of the main reception hall.
When a footman bearing a tray with glasses of wine and champagne stopped in front of them, a smiling Catrin picked up a small glass of champagne. Victoria gave the tray a quick once-over before selecting a glass of red wine. Augusta politely waved the footman away, saying, “Thank you, but not just now.”
Victoria took a bemused-looking Catrin firmly by the arm. “Come, let’s go and see what the catering has to offer this evening. I am keen to know if they have invested good coin in the food.” She sniffed at the glass of wine and her brows furrowed. “Though, if this watered-down wine is any indication, I fear we might be in for an evening of disappointment.”
It was testament to Victoria’s skilled nose that she could tell that the wine had been diluted without even having to take a sip. When it came to food and drink, there were few who could hold their own against Lady Victoria Kembal.
The moment her sister and cousin disappeared, a much-relieved Augusta made a beeline for the nearest door. Her destination—the orangery.
ChapterThree
Flynn tracked Augusta’s movements with a ravenous hunger. The way the bodice of her gown molded to her breasts had him touching his tongue to his lips. His belly might well be near empty, but he yearned for something else. For the brush of her sweet lips on his, and the sensation of his fingers on her firm, rose-colored nipples. Being with Augusta always filled the dark cavernous hole which held his soul.
She had stuck to their secret agreement and not met his gaze when he finally set foot inside the party. Instead, she had discreetly headed for the terrace doors and out into the night.
Good girl. You know what you have to do.
Over the past six months, they had met cloak-and-dagger in many hidden away places. Night gardens. Libraries. Flynn’s particular favorite had been the back of a tea shop in Oxford Street, where a serendipitous encounter between him and Augusta had seen them slip away from her maid and younger sister, Coco, to experience a passionate ten-minute liaison that still had him lying awake at night remembering every wicked and delightful detail.
If anyone eventually discovered what he and the Duke of Mowbray’s daughter had been getting up to, no doubt it would cause an outrageous scandal. And a hurried wedding. Flynn was at great pains for them not to be caught. When he and Augusta did eventually find a way to marry, it would be on their terms, and far away from the influence of his father.
Following in Augusta’s wake, Flynn took the time to stop and greet other guests. His gaze roamed slyly over the room, seeking out his best friend. He was yet to lay eyes on the Marquis of Holwell, but if the loud peals of laughter which came from nearby were any indication, Flynn would hazard a guess that Gideon Kembal was in the main ballroom holding court. Augusta’s brother loved a crowd.
