A Proper Scandal by Charis Michaels

composer’s baton, “is what manner of person you may be, Lord Rainsleigh. The reputations of your parents precedes you, as I’m sure you are aware. But what of you, my lord? So far, all I know is that you commissioned a towering mansion for a family of one , and that you spent a fortune to do so.” She paused, took another bite, and chewed.
    Rainsleigh crossed his arms over his chest as the marchioness went on. “Your late father could scarcely keep a roof over his head by the end. He commissioned nothing, built nothing; certainly he funded nothing.” Another bite. “The obvious question from a concerned neighbor is, what of you, my lord?” A fourth bite. “Do the differences between you and your disreputable sire begin and end with houses and money? Or do you go your own way in all things? I will not tolerate a reprobate in Henrietta Place, I don’t care how much money he has, and furthermore—”
    Beside him, the countess’s niece, Lady Elisabeth suddenly, inexplicably, surged to her feet and planted her hands on the table.
    â€œI beg your pardon, Lady . . . Lady . . . Forgive me. Aunt Lillian?” She turned to her aunt. “Pray, remind me of the name of your esteemed guest.”
    A table full of heads swiveled to the countess. Lady Banning appeared as shocked and speechless everyone else, Rainsleigh included. Only the diminutive old woman casually stabbed a third potato, showing no alarm.
    Lady Frinfrock took a bite of potato and eyed Elisabeth levelly. “The Marchioness of Frinfrock,” she answered. “And who, pray tell, are you?”
    â€œI am no one of consequence,” said Lady Elisabeth, “but I am a guest at this table, along with other friends and well-meaning people, and I should like to speak for all of us when I ask you, with respect, to cease your interrogation of the viscount. ’Tis uncomfortable and unnecessary and rude.”
    Rainsleigh’s jaw would have dropped into his plate if his manners were not bolted so tightly in place. He stared at the woman beside him.
    Lady Elisabeth went on. “You need only read the papers to learn of Lord Rainsleigh’s years of quiet work to build his shipping company and his subsequent devotion to philanthropy. Of his serious and thoughtful influence on political debate. The care with which he has rebuilt his family’s home in Wiltshire, including new prosperity for the land and tenants, advances in agriculture, and the restoration of historic relics. If these very public acts do not convince you of his character, then an extemporaneous defense of his parentage—a circumstance of which he is wholly innocent—will do even less.” She sat back down. “Now, I implore you. Please. Leave the man alone. For God’s sake. Let someone else or some other topic draw breath at this table.”
    All around the dining room, white faces stared in stunned silence.
    Rainsleigh glanced at the marchioness, still eating potatoes.
    He looked at Lady Elisabeth beside him. She stared into her full plate. Her chest fell and rose. Color stained her cheeks. One lone red-gold curl had worked its way free from her coiffeur and fell against her face.
    Beside him, Rainsleigh heard Lady Banning make a small, desperate sound. She cleared her throat. “Lady Frinfrock, perhaps you remember my niece and ward, Lady Elisabeth Hamilton-Baythes? Her late father, Lord Cay, was my brother.”
    â€œSo she is,” the marchioness said, her voice unchanged. “Then let us hear from you, my lady.” She turned her gaze to Elisabeth. “What business is it of yours? And don’t you know quite a bit about a man who, by all accounts, has just moved to town?”

C HAPTER S EVEN
    E lisabeth’s lone consolation was that Aunt Lilly had asked for this.
    Nay, Aunt Lilly had forced this.
    The party. Her insufferable friends. Pretense. Gossip-mongering.
    But most of all, proximity.