Page 7 of A Lady’s Guide to Scoundrels and Gentlemen (The Harp & Thistle #1)

W hen Vivian went to the dressmaker Claudette, the woman already knew Vivian was Britain’s richest spinster and closed her shop for a few hours to focus solely on her. Claudette showed her the fabrics others had recently picked, explained how evening fashions had changed from her debutante days, but as Vivian looked over an unassuming, pale-gray silk, Claudette had other ideas.

“How open are you to something a bit different?” The elderly Frenchwoman puckered scarlet-red painted lips. Vivian had never seen anything like it before outside of actresses on stage, yet it somehow fit the woman quite well without being garish. “Something that would really stand out, make every gentleman trip over themselves?”

Vivian was not one for standing out, and she said as much.

“Chérie, you will stand out no matter what because of who you are. Let me show you what I’m thinking, anyway.” Claudette disappeared for a moment before returning with black lace and a bolt of fabric. A fabric that somehow shimmered and flowed like liquid gold. “The majority of the dress would be gold.” The fabric seemed to melt between her fingers. “With this black lace over the bodice, and down the back of the skirt.” Claudette demonstrated the two fabrics together.

Vivian eyed it with trepidation. “It’s truly stunning, and unique, to be sure. But I can’t imagine that on me.”

Claudette met her eye in the mirror. “Is there a particular gentleman you have your eye on?”

Vivian lifted her chin. “No.”

But Claudette clearly didn’t believe Vivian and gave her a wry look. “Close your eyes then, Lady Vivian. The most handsome man you have ever seen turns around to see you. What dress are you wearing?”

Vivian closed her eyes and imagined herself in a pale-gray dress, lost in a crowd. It did nothing for her, except make her think of a drab cloud. Next, she imagined herself in shining gold layered with black lace, long, silk gloves past her elbows…and a sudden vision of Dantes’s face as he turned around to see her. Her eyes flew open as she took a sharp inhale.

“You blushed.” Claudette gloated in the mirror. “You do have a gentleman in mind.”

Irritated by such an accusation, Vivian of course denied it. “Absolutely not!”

Claudette tilted her head and lifted an eyebrow.

Vivian shifted, eager to move on from the subject. “The man I thought of, for whatever ridiculous reason, is of no interest to me. Even if he were, he is unattainable.”

“Why? Is he married?”

“No.”

“Then he is attainable.” Claudette gave Vivian a wise, knowing look. “I have had heard the most private details of every aristocratic romance over the past thirty years and know better than anyone the hard rules of men in matters of the heart are more malleable than pure gold—it just takes the right woman to hammer them into place.” She smiled at Vivian’s reflection. “Will you be going with the gold dress, then?”

Vivian put her eyes back on herself and allowed a small smile to break through.

*

Shrill laughter rang above the murmured conversation at the ball and Vivian looked down at the gold-and-black dress that cascaded below her. The discomfort of standing out so much in a crowd made her quite uneasy—she had received constant stares since the moment she’d stepped into the large, glittering ballroom—but she had to admit that, at least in this dress, she almost enjoyed the attention.

Almost.

“Vivian?” a man’s voice rang out with surprise. She turned to find Bernard standing with their father and a few other men, all of their faces wearing the same open-mouthed, wide-eyed expression. Realizing this himself, Bernard grabbed her wrist and dragged her away in a huff to an empty corner of the room. Father followed as Bernard continued talking. “What in the devil do you think you’re doing?”

Vivian ripped her wrist out of his hand. “What do you mean?”

“Showing up here looking like this!” Bernard looked her over with dismay.

Father nodded in agreement. “I do have to say this is a bit unusual, Vivian.”

Vivian looked between them, dismayed. “What’s wrong with the way I look? I spent a lot of time with the dressmaker, and I was looking forward to wearing this tonight!” Her voice was edged with distress.

“No, Vivian.” Bernard took a deep breath. “That’s not what I mean. You look beautiful—”

“Thank you. That should have been the first thing out of your mouth.” She grimaced at herself—she should not have said that out loud.

Bernard pressed his lips together in a tight line before speaking again. “And you are a spinster.”

“Well, I am a spinster in search of a husband now. And I must dress the part.” Realizing what she had divulged, she had to resist stomping her foot in annoyance at herself.

Bernard’s mouth opened and he stammered twice before collecting himself. “I beg your pardon?”

“Vivian.” Father patted Bernard’s shoulder before stepping forward. “You don’t have to go prowling like a cat to find a husband. Why didn’t you come to me? I can help you.” He rubbed his chin in thought. “What about Mr. Reginald Abbott? I recall him dancing three times with you the first year of your debut.”

“He married. Eight years ago.”

Father’s face went slightly red. “Oh.”

Not wanting to go into this any further, Vivian began searching the large room. “Have you seen Mr. McNab, by any chance?” She directed the question to Bernard.

His nose wrinkled. “McNab? The barkeeps? Which one?”

“Mr. Dantes McNab.”

“Why would I see him here?” He paused. “Don’t tell me he is your choice for husband!”

She tore her eyes in his direction. “I said no such thing. Why? Would that be so bad?” Scoundrels knew scoundrels—perhaps Bernard could shed light on Dantes’s secrets. Not that she really cared much, of course. It was merely a general curiosity.

“He’s not one of us,” Bernard replied.

Vivian rolled her eyes. “He’s helping me find a respectable gentleman. In exchange for your debt repayment.” Vivian glanced at her father, but he was still lost in thought, no doubt searching through his memory for gentlemen he would deem acceptable for his daughter. Men who were likely unbearable—not that he would know this.

Bernard shifted. “Yes. And I can’t thank you enough for helping us, Vivian.” But he couldn’t have said this with less authenticity. Ever since Vivian had paid off all of Bernard’s debt other than what was still owed to Dantes, Anne had clearly been more relaxed. But Bernard seemed indifferent to it. Vivian was sure he was merely embarrassed and didn’t like to discuss it. “But I still don’t understand how McNab can help you.”

“He went through some of my calling cards with me and told me which of them were alcoholics, gamblers. Which ones went to brothels .” She made a point to really enunciate that last word, capturing Father’s attention. He furrowed his brows.

Bernard looked away.

“No offense, Bernard, but I don’t want to end up like Anne. Maybe she tolerates your behavior, but I do not want a life like that. I would rather die alone than be married to a scoundrel.”

“Yes, and thanks to you, she told me she’s seriously considering a separation. She refused to come here tonight with me.”

Vivian’s eyebrows lifted. When had Anne decided that? “Well. Something tells me you wouldn’t tolerate her sleeping with other men and spending all your money on brothels, card games, and horse races.”

Father began grumbling and pulled them further into isolation.

Bernard turned as red as a tomato. “He’s not supposed to find out about that!” Bernard reminded Vivian.

“Stop the squabbling at once! Bernard.” Father took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “You said you had a small gambling debt to pay. No wonder your wife looked at me like I had turned purple when I told her to expect flowers from you. This is the height of impropriety! If your wife wants a separation, then I’m confident you have absolutely crossed the line. It should never get to that point. You know brothels are unacceptable once you marry. I can’t even stand the thought, but you can have a mistress if you keep that whole business properly hidden. I can’t believe I have to explain that to you.” Father’s voice was stern and it struck fear in Vivian’s heart. She could only imagine how it would feel to be on the receiving end of such anger. “How much debt do you have?”

Bernard was clenching his teeth. “It doesn’t matter. The debt has been covered.” Of course, Dantes’s portion remained, but Vivian was not about to bring that up.

Father pulled back. “If you couldn’t manage to cover it, then how did—” His attention flew to Vivian. “You covered up for him.”

Vivian swallowed.

Father took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “This reflects on me. Both of you and your actions reflects on me ! Did that happen to escape you?” Father looked Bernard squarely in the eye. “You quit all vices now or so help me—”

“I will.” Bernard’s voice cracked.

Father turned to Vivian. “And, Vivian, a lady does not speak on such matters, especially so bluntly! For heaven’s sake, what has become of this family?”

As Bernard and Vivian glared at each other, a gem-encrusted woman and her male companion, both of whom were gray-haired and regal, slowly walked by. Father gave them a friendly smile and nod, but his scowl returned once they had passed.

Father let out a sigh. “How did I raise you two to be like this?”

Bernard went rigid. “You didn’t raise us. You suddenly appeared one day and ever since have acted as if you had always been there.” And with that, Bernard fled into the crowd.

Father’s face went stark white as he watched his adult son disappear. He turned back to Vivian. “Do you feel that way, too?”

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

Father looked crestfallen, and guilt began to pull at Vivian’s stomach. “Well,” Father began, “I believe I will be heading home, then.”

She grasped his arm before he could turn to leave. “That isn’t necessary. I didn’t mean to make you feel badly.”

But he shook his head. “No, you misunderstand. Like I said, you have too much time on your hand.” Father glanced around the ballroom. “There’s a list I’d like to make, a ranking of to whom to re-introduce you. You did say you were hoping to marry, didn’t you?” The duke gave her a wink before quickly disappearing, no doubt lest she object.

Lovely. This was the exact type of meddling she’d been hoping to avoid.

Now feeling off-kilter, Vivian began to weave through the crowd in search of champagne and people began noticing her again. At first, they nodded in her direction, both men and women. But as the nods became verbal hello s, those verbal hello s quickly turned into “Lady Vivian!” and Vivian began to run through the crowd as those infernal, unrelenting bachelors began chasing after her once again. She recalled Queen Victoria’s promise to send gentlemen her way, but Vivian hadn’t been expecting this!

She glanced back to find men shouldering through the crowd after her, their hands waving high up in the air. “Lady Vivian! May I have one dance?”

She accidentally ran into a woman, nearly knocking her over. Oh, blast, it was Her Royal Majesty, and the queen’s diamond crown nearly flew off her head. “So sorry, Your Majesty!” Vivian shouted back as the woman righted herself with a face of severe offense.

The exit was just ahead, and beyond that was freedom. That was it. She was going home. She couldn’t tolerate this madness. The night had barely begun and was already unbearable. What had she been thinking in coming here? A worse idea couldn’t have been had.

But as she broke through the crowd at a run, she came to a halt as she spotted Dantes and his brother Ollie approaching from the hallway that led to her freedom.

For a moment she almost didn’t recognize Dantes. Where before he’d had a wild, scruffy edge to him—pub-appropriate attire, stubble, thick hair in need of control—he was now as polished as fine silver. Never would she verbalize this to him, but he cleaned up well. Quite well, actually, she thought as she quickly glanced over the long lines of him.

Compared to women, men wore identical clothing. Black trousers and jackets, white waistcoats and shirts. And yet Dantes stood out like a beacon amongst the other gentlemen in attendance. Though he was now clean shaven and his hair was styled and oiled, and he was wearing the same clothing as the others, there was still that untamed wildness to him. Though he had ties to the aristocracy, and he may have been trying his best to blend in tonight, Bernard was right in that Dantes didn’t fit in at all.

Then, in remembering her silly vision roused by Claudette, she looked Dantes in the eye in search of a reaction. Was he as taken by her own polishing as the rest of the ballroom had been? Did he show any sign of admiration or even surprise? But she found nothing there other than an even, blank face.

He wasn’t the least affected by her improved appearance.

Stupidly, her throat tightened and she scolded herself for being so vain. Of course, why should she care what he thought anyway? He would be a terrible choice for a spouse, and the fact that she even had a modicum of interest in his reaction to her in this moment irritated her to no end.

“Lady Vivian! Lady Vivian!” The voices behind her were catching up and she looked back over her shoulder. “A dance, please! Just one dance!”

She turned back to Dantes and went to walk past him. “I’m going home. This is utter madness, and doubly humiliating.”

But he grabbed her hand, forcing her to stop. “No.”

“Excuse me?” She shot back, eliciting a stifled laugh off to the side from Ollie.

“You can’t outrun them, Lady Vivian.” And as her chasers broke through the crowd, they came to a halt, watching Dantes lift her hand to his lips, a kiss lingering on the tips of her silk-gloved fingers.

Her face burned in response. “What are you doing?” It came out at as a whisper.

“I’m calling off the dogs,” Dantes replied low before releasing her hand and offering his arm to her. Now understanding this was nothing more than part of a game, she took his offering, ignoring the solid feel of him beneath the sleeve, and turned back to the chasers. The men’s shoulders fell and they retreated into the ballroom with heads hanging. A few young women walked by, and Ollie mumbled something about champagne and followed them, leaving Vivian and Dantes alone.

“Incredible.” Filled with wonder, her eyes fixed on the space the men had vacated. “Can you believe they chased me?”

Dantes didn’t respond to the question and instead placed a warm hand over her arm. “We shall walk in together now, and your first dance will be with me. The weakest men will fall away, those who know they have nothing to offer you, the type who think it’s acceptable to chase a woman through a ballroom.” They began walking and she tightened her hold as they approached the crowd. “And anyone who captures your interest after that, I can tell you if he’s a worthy gentleman or not.”

While Dantes spoke, he looked over the crowd, his view much higher than hers. But as she watched him do this, he unexpectedly looked down at her, and the vivid greenness of his eyes in the golden light of the room shot a jolt through her. She had to look away.

“Before we go in,” he began again, evidently unaware of her reaction, “are you sure you want me leading you in? Perhaps Ollie would be a better man to walk with you.”

Vivian looked back up with genuine confusion. “Why would I want him to walk me in?”

He smiled widely at this, the long scar on his face stretching with it. She wondered what had caused it. “I’m not exactly a pretty face,” he said. “I may scare them all off.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re perfect.” She paused. “For this. And anyway, I’m Britain’s richest spinster . I can almost do anything, and the sharks in there will still chomp their way through to talk to me.”

A deep rumbling laugh rose from Dantes. “Very well, Lady Vivian. Shall we?”

And together, Vivian and Dantes entered the wolf’s den of society: the ballroom. Where hundreds of pairs of eyes picked apart every inch of every person. Where gossip was created and spread. And the reactions to Lady Vivian Winthrop walking in with Mr. Dantes McNab were quite interesting, ranging from surprise, to horror, to disgust. She could already hear them whispering about it: “Who is that frightening man with Vivian?” Or if they knew Dantes, which she discovered many of them did, they disparaged him as a gutter rat, like Mr. Crosby had in her receiving room, according to Heaton. She felt angry and defensive on his behalf. Who did these people think they were to talk about Dantes like that? She wanted to give each and every one of them a good talking to. But she would never be bold enough to do so, and he probably wouldn’t be too happy about that, either.

Speaking of Mr. Crosby, there he was, sipping champagne with a blonde woman and a few of Vivian’s chasers. He noted whom Vivian was with, but his face gave nothing away. He did, however, give her a nod but didn’t wait for a response before turning back to his companions.

Now, the only reason Vivian had even noticed him in the first place was because Dantes tightened ever so slightly. There had been a sudden stiffness in his arm, a barely perceptible stutter in his walk that seemed completely involuntary. It had been a reaction even the harshest whispers so far hadn’t elicited. But she couldn’t figure out what had caused it. Would Mr. Crosby cause that reaction? Or was it merely a coincidence?

“Has anyone piqued Lady Vivian’s interest tonight?” Dantes glanced down at her once again. “Plenty of gentlemen have greeted you since we began walking about the room, but none approach you. I still insist I do you a disservice being at your side.”

She wondered if it was a general question, or if he meant Mr. Crosby. It didn’t matter, though, because the response was the same. “No one has interested me so far. But it’s a breath of fresh air, not being approached after being chased. Don’t forget the only reason I’m still here is because of you.”

He nodded slightly, and as a tray of champagne slid past them, she let go of him to grab two flutes, handing one to Dantes. Finally, a chance to settle into the night, if only for a few moments.

“Tell me something about yourself, Mr. McNab.” Vivian spun the stem of the glass between her fingers. Though it was polite to make light conversation such as this, she found she was genuinely interested to learn more about Dantes. He was so cryptic, so closed off, getting to know him was like trying to solve a puzzle.

Dantes watched expectantly over his glass as he took a sip. “What would you like to know?”

“Why did you receive Dantes as your nickname? It’s interesting. Are you a vengeful man?” Vivian assumed the nickname had something to do with his scar, but she would never dream of asking about that.

“I received it as a child, from friends of my grandparents.” He seemed to be evading the question, which only piqued her curiosity.

Next question. “Can you tell me more about your parents?”

Dantes clenched his jaw and took time to respond. But respond he did. “My father was the only child of the Duke and Duchess of Invermark.” He looked at her as if gauging her reaction to this bit of news. Of course, he didn’t know she already knew, so she feigned surprise by letting out a small gasp. Dantes continued. “However, he was essentially kicked out of the family for being too wild. He then moved to London, where he founded the Southwestern Railway Company for fun.”

“He founded a railway company for fun ?” Vivian’s eyebrows shot up.

Dantes nodded. “He met my mother, they married.” There was a brief hesitation. It was so minute, Vivian was surprised she’d even caught it. Dantes quickly moved on. “When he died, his partners took over the business. Then when it sold years later to a larger railway company, they gave my brothers and me enough money to open the pub. After being split several ways, it wasn’t much, as most of the sale went to the partners. We had to find a way to create an income for ourselves.”

“How did your father die?”

Dantes clenched his jaw for a moment. “A train derailment. Ollie never met him, in fact.”

Oh, what a horrible tragedy! Vivian felt sorrow for Dantes’s mother. Pregnant when her husband had died in a horrific way?

Though it hadn’t escaped her he was willing to talk about his father but had become guarded at the subject of his mother. “You said your mother died in childbirth, correct?”

Dantes nodded and glanced around the room, as if considering whether or not he should tell her anything.

“She was Irish,” Dantes slowly began and again, he seemed to be studying her reaction. “And she became a laudanum addict, getting addicted after giving birth to Ollie. They gave it to her to dull the pain from a difficult childbirth. She was quite melancholy after our father’s death, which I think contributed to her overdose later. We ended up moving to the district she was from after my father died. She had some family there who were only mildly interested in us for a short time. They didn’t like my father, and by extension didn’t care much for us.”

“Where in London was this?”

Dantes hesitated again and looked away. “Whitechapel.”

Vivian felt herself grow pale. Whitechapel was rife with gangs, violence, disease. And last year, a madman had begun brutally murdering women there. The police were still hunting the man down, and the city was breathing down their necks for it. Everyone hoped the horrific killer would be caught soon.

She couldn’t imagine three young children living on the streets there. And she had no idea the McNabs had ever been street orphans, either. That explained why everyone called Dantes “a gutter rat.” She thought they said that because they didn’t like him, to be cruel. But surely, when their father had died, they’d had money? Why had their mother taken them to Whitechapel? Bringing them there because of family who’d been rather uninterested didn’t seem a good explanation.

“If you have a problem with that, or a problem with my mother,” Dantes said, his voice edged with menace, “then you have issue with me and I will no longer help you.”

Vivian felt the blood drain from her face. “I have no qualms.”

The tension in his face subsided. “We survived,” he continued as if nothing had happened, as if her heart weren’t racing with alarm. “After a few years, my grandparents, my father’s parents, took us in. I never knew my mother’s parents, only a few of her siblings. I don’t even know if they’re still alive, or where they are if they are.” He took a sip of champagne, his gaze vacant as he thought back to some old memory. Whatever it was lifted his spirits enough for him to look her in the eye again. “I’m sure the first year with us was a wild one for my grandparents.” A sparkle appeared briefly in his eyes but fell away quickly. “And then we were sent to boarding school.”

“Eton, you mean.”

Dantes started at this detail. “Yes. Your butler was listening in that day, wasn’t he?”

“At my insistence, yes.” Vivian gave him a sheepish look. “I apologize for spying on you. Admittedly, I was curious to know what conversations would be had without me around. I suspected your appearance in the room would make for interesting conversation. I had hoped any man vying for my attention would treat any guest of mine with respect. But that didn’t happen, did it?”

Fortunately, he laughed, and it made her smile to hear it. As a servant with a silver tray passed by, they placed their empty champagne glasses upon it as music began to play. It was time for everyone to gather for the first dance.

Dantes looked down at her, and the intensity in his gaze created a strange, twisting feeling in her stomach. “May I have the honor of dancing this set with you?”

Why did it surprise her he knew the proper way to ask? “You may.” She gave him the expected little curtsy. And a brush of a shy smile she couldn’t hold back.

Dantes led her out to the floor, where hundreds of eyes hooked into her back. She glanced around nervously, catching many in stares.

“Lady Vivian.” Dantes’s low voice pulled her back to him.

“I can’t do this.” She gripped him tightly as panic rose. She hadn’t danced in years. Why hadn’t she thought to practice before tonight? How had it not occurred to her to do so? Surely, she was going to trip and fall in front of everyone, her biggest social nightmare.

“Yes, you can,” he reassured her, his gravelly voice oddly calming. Despite the building crowd around them, his attention was on her and nothing else.

“I’m going to trip.”

“I will take the blame for that.”

“I’m going to fall and everyone will gasp dramatically and laugh and tease me about it until the day I die.”

“No, you won’t. I will catch you before that happens.” She could hear in his voice he meant it. And as she shivered—from nerves or from his closeness?—his hand flexed in hers. “Vivian, I’ve got you.”

Her heart leapt at his usage of her Christian name without her title. But unlike the time he’d called her “Viv,” which she’d excused as an honest mistake, this time, he didn’t appear abashed at all. A surge of warmth went through her as if he had whispered praise into her ear.

“Are you nervous?” She looked up at him now. After all, he hadn’t been out here for a while, either.

But Dantes smiled easily back, giving her a sliver of reassurance. “Not at all.” And as the orchestra began, he took her hand in his and placed his other hand on the small of her back. The spot he touched heated beneath her corset—why did that happen? She looked up at him again to see if he’d reacted to it too.

But once again, his face met hers with indifference.