A Kiss to Spark a Scandal - Chapter 6

Lady Dorothea Claremont and Lord Peter Crawley’s Betrothal Ball…

Freddie hauled himself onto his phaeton and manoeuvred it out of the Albany’s narrow mews onto Piccadilly, intending to spend the night at a coaching inn fifteen miles away rather than waste another second in Mayfair. The more distance he put between himself and Dot’s travesty of an engagement celebration and subsequent wedding, the better.

If she wanted to shackle herself for all eternity to a man she did not love, there was nothing he could do about it. He had said his piece, bared his heart and plighted his troth, and if she was still determined to go through with the marriage out of a misplaced sense of duty to her family, there was nothing more he could do to change her mind.

Let her live with the consequences of her actions! If she was content to settle for less than everything and didn’t think that Freddie was worth the risk, he would get over it. Hearts mended, or so he hoped. And he would start the healing process by leaving her to it, convinced that if he didn’t have the opportunity to see her, he might eventually stop craving her with every fibre of his being.

Even so, he slowed his carriage at the turning for Berkeley Square to watch the line of carriages already queuing to get to the Claremont residence despite the early hour. Soon, for such an eagerly anticipated event, they would be snaking all the way to Hyde Park Corner, so it was good he was getting a head start out of the way. In another hour, after their illustrious parents toasted their union, the first waltz would play and everyone would watch Dot and the man she had chosen over him twirl around the floor. All remarking on how perfect a match it was, when both he and she knew different. If it was so damned perfect, she wouldn’t have confessed to him that she wasn’t in love with her fiancé, nor would she have kissed Freddie with such fervour. And she certainly wouldn’t have been so upset when she had lamented that she had ‘had to say yes’ to the proposal because she ‘had no choice’, when of course she had a choice!

She could have said no there and then if she harboured doubts. Should have said no if she experienced the same magnetic pull to him as he did to her. She should have said no if she felt one-tenth of the emotion he felt for her. She should have given Freddie a chance to woo her and convince her that he might be the one whose ring she should be wearing.

But no.

She had behaved like a typical staid Claremont and put duty over love.

Peter over him.

Lord how that broke his heart!

With a decisive snap of the reins, his phaeton lurched forward, and because the road ahead was still empty, he sped down it at reckless speed to where the city melted into greenery and the sanctuary of home beckoned.

‘Peter has just arrived.’ Her mother bustled through her bedchamber door and waved the maid away to finish her daughter’s hair herself. Dorothea forced a smile even though she wanted to weep. ‘I must say he looks very sun-kissed and handsome after his jaunt away. Those few weeks at Lord Sedgewick’s estate have done him a power of good. And the best news is his waistcoat is blue to match your dress, exactly as I requested.’

‘That is the best news.’ Because at least their clothing was compatible if nothing else was. But what if it never was? ‘Mama…how long did it take for you and papa to…er—’ how to phrase all her niggling doubts without putting the cat amongst the pigeons? ‘—feel completely comfortable together?’

Misinterpreting her question entirely, her mother blushed crimson. ‘Well, such things take a bit of time to get used to…but by the end of our honeymoon, we found…um…comfort together.’ She poked a pin into Dorothea’s hair to avoid her gaze in the mirror. ‘But then, we were virtual strangers, whereas you and Peter have known each other forever, so I dare say you will find things in your bedchamber less awkward.’

‘It wasn’t so much that side of things I was referring to.’ Peter in her bedchamber was not something she was ready to contemplate just yet, especially after their uninspiring kiss. Which was ironic when she had contemplated Freddie in it near constantly since theirs. ‘More the normal day-to-day relationship…as that has been rather strained of late.’ Or more specifically since the start of the Season and their families’ insistence that the time was right to turn their lifelong friendship into a lifelong commitment.

Relieved that the topic wasn’t about the carnal manifestation of love, her mother smiled. ‘Oh, that is to be expected, dear, when a couple start courting. It adds a new dimension to proceedings. A frisson as it were…’ She gave her one of those knowing looks mothers gave their daughters when they were sharing a confidence. ‘Which is all part of the fun.’

‘But what if there isn’t so much a frisson as over-politeness? How long does that side of things take to develop?’

‘Ahh—I see.’ Her mother sat on the mattress, awkward again. ‘I had assumed that you and Peter had already dabbled in some of the physical aspects of a courtship, but I can see now that you haven’t. Hardly a surprise when you are both such dutiful and respectful children with an admirable sense of propriety, but…’ She reached for Dorothea’s hand and squeezed it. ‘Now that you are engaged, we will all turn a blind eye to a little chaste…um…experimentation before you take your vows. And I am quite certain that once you do, the frisson will materialise immediately.’

Her mother wiggled her eyebrows and chuckled, oblivious to the fact that there hadn’t been the slightest glimmer of the frisson when her daughter and Peter had locked lips. Considerably less of one when she had tried to deepen it into the sort of frisson-filled passion she had enjoyed with Freddie. ‘In the meantime, some pre-wedding nerves and cold feet are entirely natural. I had assumed yours would kick in sooner, like Peter’s did so spectacularly at the Bulphans’, but I am sure yours will pass as quickly as his did now that you have confided in your mother.’

‘Peter had cold feet?’ Before or after he proposed? The heavy sense of dread in Dorothea’s tummy suddenly doubled in weight along with all her doubts. ‘Spectacularly?’ That did not bode well.

That did not bode well at all!

Sensing her panic, her mother patted her hand as she stood. ‘All water under the bridge, dear, and all perfectly natural. Men in particular are most reticent about giving up their wild bachelor ways, but his father talked him round and, exactly as his mother and I predicted, he proposed to you that same afternoon, so all is well that ends well. Now, hurry along, the love of your life is awaiting you downstairs.’

No, he wasn’t.

He was hightailing it back to Avondale while she was miserably stuck with Peter. And worse, by all accounts, it seemed Peter was also miserably stuck with her!