Page 4 of Just Think of the Scandal (The Fairplace Family Novellas #2)

T heo finished another whiskey. He didn’t usually drink this much, but Evelyn had broken out the high-quality Scottish whiskey that his father never would’ve allowed a pack of bucks access to.

“This is quite good, actually,” the Scot said, and that was a stamp of approval if Theo had ever heard one.

“The girls are amusing when we can get them away from their chaperones,” one man said, popping the lid off a decanter of port. “Good games tonight. Evelyn, can we convince your father to stay away another night?”

The men laughed.

Evelyn shook his head, the gaslight highlighting the auburn in his brown hair. “More’s the pity. So drink up, mates!” He raised his glass in the air, rousting a cheer from the men.

Theo groped for the whisky bottle and poured four fingers into his cup. He wanted to forget the look on Miss Czerninová’s face when she realized she’d been the butt of a prank. The confusion in her pale blue eyes faded to understanding, and then came that flash of hurt. But what kicked him in the gut was the mask she’d pulled on in the blink of an eye, laughing like it was a great joke she’d been in on.

She might’ve fooled everyone else, but not him. Because he’d been staring into those entrancing eyes for at least ten minutes during Reverend Crawley’s Game, being absolutely gobsmacked over how special she was. Miss Czerninová had faded into the group of other unmarried young women, and he hadn’t tried to get to know any of them individually. He wasn’t looking to marry, and none of the parents present would want their daughter to set her cap for a mere mister when Lord William, courtesy title or not, was in the room.

When his third cousin Evelyn had invited him to the house party, Theo was surprised. They’d attended Oxford at the same time and so had run amuck together for two years. After two years, Evelyn decided he’d achieved enough social polish and left for a Grand Tour. Theo had stayed the final year and graduated in '59, then joined his older brother Dennis to pool their life savings into investments.

Thankfully, their speculation had paid off—most of it was in railway stock, anyway, and that seemed a sure bet—and now Theo had enough of his own, independent wealth he could do things like go to a house party with people in high society and not worry others would see him as a fortune hunter.

But after Oxford, Evelyn and Theo hadn’t remained close. Partially it was the nature of their social status: Evelyn spent his time in White’s and gambling hells that only allowed the nobility inside. And partially, Theo was beginning to realize, although they were both twenty-six, Evelyn still spent his time as if he were twenty. All a lark, no care in the world, throwing money on anything that moved.

Still, the party was fun. Theo had been raised primarily in London, so though he was a gentleman he hadn’t as much opportunity to hunt, shoot, ride, or stomp around nature as the other men with country estates.

An image of Miss Czerninová flashed before his eyes, braying like a donkey because she’d believed it to be a part of the game. Well, mostly fun.

Theo had honestly expected that he would be told to bray like a donkey, since he seemed just on the outskirts of the group. None of the young women were flirting with him like the wealthier men, and the young men all knew one another. Theo showed up knowing only Evelyn. So when Miss Glumley had whispered, “No animal sound, just be silent,” in his ear, Theo had been quite relieved. Until he learned who had been singled out: the one young person more left out of the group than him.

“She’s Bohemian,” Evelyn had told Theo that first afternoon, when Theo had asked about the other guests. “Elizabeth Czerninová. But not the fun kind of Bohemian.” He chuckled, no doubt thinking of Parisian girls, absinthe, and artists living in garrets. “No, she’s actually Bohemian. Born and raised in Prague. My mother’s sister married some Bohemian noble and only came back for Christmas. Aunt Judith died of cholera last summer, and Uncle Rolf died in a hunting accident a couple months later in autumn while visiting Hungarian royalty. Elizabeth planned to stay in Prague but I gather she’s penniless until the courts pull her inheritance out of probate. Or whatever Bohemian courts call it. Or are they Austrian?”

Theo had mentally slotted her into several categories: penniless, pretty, orphan, foreign , and then moved on to the other guests.

But now, he mused, decidedly more bosky than he’d been when playing parlor games, she had several new adjectives. Proud, intelligent, lonely, brave.

“What are you woolgathering about, Fairplace?” One of the men pulled off his waistcoat and dropped it on the floor beside other clothing. As soon as the ladies had departed for the night, the men had pulled off their coats and neckties and began drinking the whiskey.

“Probably thinking about my cousin,” Evelyn hiccupped, showing unusual perception. “Mish Chern Cherneenka.” He squinted. “Czerninovo?”

Theo shifted in his seat. “Czerninová, you dolt. She’s your first cousin. How can you not remember that?”

Evelyn gave him an affronted look. “I’m foxed . I shouldn’t be required to remember anything right now.”

“The foreign bit of skirt?” Lord William clarified. “Ah, she’s a pretty thing. Quiet, it seems. But then that’s always a good thing in women.”

Theo took another drink. Miss Czerninová was lovely. She spoke just the right amount, he thought. Perfect for her. Besides, he could practically hear his opinionated sister’s voice in his head saying that only weak-minded men preferred quiet women. Theo smirked, for he had to agree.

“You don’t see that color of hair very often,” the Scot mused.

“Somewhere between red and blond,” another agreed.

“They say women from the Continent are fast and loose.” Lord William waggled his eyebrows. “Anyone here had the chance to test that with her yet?”

Theo’s mood turned blacker. “What?”

“I bet she’s learned all sorts of things. I wouldn’t mind sinking my teeth into that arse.”

The Scot grunted his agreement. “I wonder what her hair looks like when it’s down. And against bare, pale skin.” He glanced around. “Anyone willing to tup her and let us know?”

Theo was drunk, but he wasn’t a lecher. He stared at Evelyn, waiting for him to shut his friends up.

But Evelyn smirked, then took another gulp of his drink.

“I’ll volunteer.” Lord William sniggered. “She’s a quiet little thing, but those women tend to scream the loudest during a fuck.”

Why wasn’t Evelyn saying something? He was not only the host of the party but also Miss Czerninová’s closest male relative. He was supposed to be protective of her, damn it! Theo glowered in his direction, but Evelyn didn’t seem to notice.

Fine. Fine .

Theo knocked back his drink, ignoring the fiery pain surging down his throat, and wiped his mouth with the back of the hand that still held the glass. He stood so quickly the Scot and Lord William glanced at him in surprise.

“Miss Czerninová is not only a lady and a guest, but niece of the baron. She deserves to be spoken of with respect, just like any other woman here.” He swayed, glaring at Lord William.

Lord William raised his hands in a gesture of harmlessness and raised his eyebrows to imply, W hat’s your problem?

“It’s past three in the morning. I’m going to bed.” Theo slammed the glass on the table beside him and stalked out of the room. He barely avoided flinging the door shut with a bang.

Theo stomped upstairs toward the guest rooms, weaving on the stairs. As he reached the top, the long Aubusson runner stretched across the mahogany floor muffled his footsteps. The wide corridor stretched out on either side of him, the gaslights on the walls flickering so low he couldn’t see farther than two doors in both directions. But the room just in front of him, at the top of the stairs, had gaslights on full blast and the door wide open.

Was someone in there? Who, at this hour of the night?

Theo had just enough sobriety left to silently walk in mostly a straight line and lean heavily against the doorframe to peer inside.

His heart skipped a beat.

Inside, sprawled across a navy velvet settee, was Miss Czerninová. The gaslight flickered across her hair, which had fallen from its chignon. The crinolines under her skirts were bent and mishappen, causing several layers of green skirt and frothy, cream petticoats to hike up her leg, exposing her stockings. She appeared to be sleeping.

Theo rubbed his face and stepped closer to make sure she was well.

“Miss Czerninová?” he whispered, reaching the edge of the settee.

She snored, scratched her side, and shifted on the seat.

An empty bottle fell with a muted thud onto the carpet.

Theo’s brows rose in surprise. He knelt and picked up the empty bottle, examining it. It hadn’t been sherry, the light alcohol society allowed women to drink. He sniffed the bottle. Port. And heavy stuff. He smiled, slanting a glance at the unconscious woman. “My, my, Miss Czerninová. I hadn’t taken you for a lush.”

She snored softly in response, the crinolines flaring upward to show off more of her stockinged calves. Her slippers peeked from under the settee.

Theo, in his inebriated state, struggled to make sense of exactly why Miss Czerninová was passed out drunk in the upstairs drawing room. He glanced around, looking for clues.

Two books had tumbled off their perch on the side table, laying with pages open and spine cracked on the carpet. He peered closer at her and saw she’d fallen asleep with her face pressed against a third book. She’d have terrible sleep lines across her face when she woke.

What had she been reading? Theo leaned over her to catch a glimpse of the title.

The faint scent of bergamot and violets wafted up to him, mixed with port. His groin tightened at the unexpected, feminine perfume. Apparently, he wasn’t so bosky that he couldn’t appreciate a woman.

A beautiful woman, he realized. Elizabeth Czerninová was beautiful. Not just pretty, like he’d originally assumed. Her hair, like strands of the dawn, wisped around her flushed cheeks, and a thick braid had tumbled free of the chignon. Even her eyelashes were that reddish gold color, he noticed. They cast the faintest shadow along her cheek.

Theo grimaced, adjusting his trousers. He tried very hard to marshal his thoughts. Before he’d been staring at the curve of her cheeks, the shell of her ear, the soft skin of her neck like a blathering idiot he’d been…trying to discover something.

No, wait. Before that he’d been angry. He’d be furious while stalking up to bed. Why was he so angry? It had to do with the woman before him…but not at her.

Then Lord William’s vulgar comments came back to him. The sniggering. Evelyn refusing to do a thing about it.

Theo’s jaw clenched.

He couldn’t leave her like this, all alone in a public place in the middle of the night. Not when there were cads like Lord William lurking.

“Mish Sherneenová,” he whispered.

She grunted.

He closed his eyes to focus on the pronunciation. “Czerninová.”

This time she roused enough to swat at him. “Shhh.”

“You…” He closed his eyes, trying to concentrate on the right words. “You need to go to bed.”

She snored.

Theo rocked back on his heels, not sure how to solve this problem. She wasn’t waking up. He could go rouse a maid. But that seemed rather unfair and excessive. He could lie across the door to keep her safe. He could poke her until she woke. But then she might scream and everyone would think he was ravishing her. Theo tapped his lip with a forefinger.

Aha!

He’d carry her to her bed. It would be silent, quick, and keep her safe from any of the gentlemen downstairs.

Mind made up, Theo carefully slid his arms under her, nearly going cross-eyed with concentration, and lifted. He stumbled through the door back into the corridor, nearly knocking her head into the doorframe.

“Whoopsies,” he muttered. Then he looked down the long, darkened hall. “Mish Chernin-Chern—” He jostled her in his arms. “Where’s your room?”

She opened one eye, grumbling. “How should I know?” She promptly fell back asleep.

It took nearly ten minutes of standing in the corridor, racking his brain, for Theo to remember where her door was.

I’m quite clever, he congratulated himself as he more-or-less staggered down the hall. I must not be as foxed as I thought.

He jiggled the knob, trying very hard not to drop his damsel in distress, and pushed the door open with his foot. Shadows covered the room. His knee hit a low table, then the side of a chair. His poor shins hit the edge of the bed before he realized he was there.

Theo dropped her on the bed.

“Umph,” she growled, but then rolled over and drooled on her pillow.

Theo raked a hand through his sweaty hair, wondering what he was supposed to do now. Undress her? No, probably not. At least unbutton her dress? He didn’t think he could reach it. Maybe remove her stockings?

Again, his cock made his presence known at the most inconvenient time. Theo wasn’t seducing anyone. Not now , he told it firmly. Go back to sleep. Bother me tomorrow.

Theo settled for pulling up the quilt folded at the bottom of the bed, draping it over her prone body, and stumbling back out the door.

There we are. He glanced back at her door with a smug expression, taking inordinate care not to click the knob as he shut it. He paused in the hall, suddenly unable to remember where his bedchamber lay. He rumpled his hair and tried to straighten his wrinkled attire as he lumbered toward his door. He’d lost his coat and waistcoat long ago. Very subtle, he thought approvingly. No one will ever know.

He was too drunk to notice the pair of eyes peeping from beyond Lady Colston’s cracked door.