Always Proper, Suddenly Scandalous (Scandalous Seasons #3)(22)

Geoffrey frowned.

Abigail arched a brow. “Is there a problem, my lord?”

Boldness must be a character trait reserved for Americans.

“It would seem if your father had left the windows and doors closed, that your mother’s lace curtains would be intact.”

She waggled a brow at him. “I do believe that is what makes the story amusing, my lord.” There was no mistaking the reproachful note threading her thinly veiled admonition. “You are rather serious, my lord.”

Lady Beatrice gasped, the delicate sound drowned out by her brother’s sharp bark of laughter.

“There is something unseemly in being proper and respectable, Miss Stone?” Geoffrey challenged.

She sat forward on the edge of her seat. “If you say so, my lord.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“There is no need to apologize. I agree.”

Geoffrey folded his arms across his chest. “I meant my words as a question. Not a statement.”

Abigail leaned back in her seat. “Ahh.”

“Ahh?”

She smiled. “Is that another question? Or another statement, my lord?”

“Do behave, Abby,” Lady Beatrice said, gently.

Abigail glanced over at Beatrice. “Even if it is very fun teasing Lord Redbrooke?”

Lady Beatrice’s eyes went even rounder in her face.

It took a long moment for Geoffrey’s head to cease spinning.

Westfield, who up to that point, seemed to entertain the possibility of tossing Geoffrey out on his arse, gave him a commiserative look.

Suddenly, filled with a desperate urgency to place much needed space between himself and Abigail Stone, Geoffrey turned to Lady Beatrice. “My lady, will you accompany me for a walk in Hyde Park?”

Silence met his terse request. Bloody hell, he must apply a bit more romanticism to his courtship. Ladies required romanticism. He silently added that to the list he’d compiled for courting a very marriageable miss.

“It is lovely out,” she murmured, and damn if it didn’t sound as though the young lady were trying to work up the resolve to join him. Her eyes lit up, suddenly. “Abby you must accompany us. And you, as well, Robert.”

Hell. That most certainly hadn’t been part of Geoffrey’s plans for the afternoon. He expected in any moment she’d begin issuing invites to the chambermaids and footmen to spare her from his solitary company.

Geoffrey couldn’t imagine anything more disastrous than the tempting Abigail Stone joining them on their outing.

“That would be lovely,” Abigail said, with far greater conviction than her cousin, the distinguished Lady Beatrice had exhibited mere moments ago.

And damn if his blasted heart didn’t lift at the prospect of her joining them.





A gentleman must demonstrate restraint and calm in all matters.

4th Viscount Redbrooke.



8

Abigail, Beatrice, her cousin Robert, and the Viscount Redbrooke strolled along a walking path in Hyde Park that overlooked the wide man-made lake filled with pink pelicans and elegant white swans.

With the tip of her finger, Abigail tapped her chin.

There were fourteen men. Seven women. She wrinkled her brow and mentally tabulated figures again. No, there were eight women. She’d forgotten Cassiopeia. Mustn’t forget the vain beauty who’d been forced to sacrifice her only daughter to atone for that vanity. Sixteen, Seventeen, Eighteen land animals. “Nineteen,” she amended.

“Nineteen what?” Robert asked, shooting her a sideways glance.

“Land animals,” she murmured.

Robert glanced around, as if searching for the nineteen creatures she’d mentioned.

Abigail smiled, grateful he didn’t ask further questions about her odd tendency of cataloguing the mythical creatures that made up part of the Greek constellations.

Robert leaned down the several inches separating them in height. “It appears Redbrooke would like to make a match with Beatrice.”

Abigail stumbled a bit and her cousin steadied her.

“Beatrice won’t have Lord Redbrooke, not if he were the last titled gentleman in all the kingdom,” he whispered.

As though Lord Redbrooke sensed he were the subject of discussion, he glanced over his shoulder. That familiar, dark frown lined the harsh planes of his face before he redirected his attention on the path in front of them. With his somberness and stern demeanor, Geoffrey could not be more different than Alexander Powers. Alexander had possessed a light sense of humor, so vastly different than the often grave viscount.

“Are you very familiar with Lord Redbrooke?” she asked, unable to quell the urge to know more about the hardened young lord.

Robert lifted one shoulder in a shrug. “He’s a stodgy fellow. But he wasn’t always that way. We attended Oxford in the same years.” He grinned. “Many considered him something of a rogue, then.” He dropped his voice to a low whisper. “There were rumors of a young woman who’d captured his affection, but I’m not privy to the details. No one is.”

Robert fell silent, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from pressing him for further details.

Just then, Beatrice let loose a startled shriek and stumbled. She pitched forward with a small cry but before she collapsed amid the rocks and gravel of the path, Geoffrey caught her.