The Hellion and The Heartbreaker (21 page)

“You might
as well show her,” Rory said grinning, despite his mouthful of food, for which
he instantly received a quelling glance from Colin.

“Show me
what?”  It was then that she noticed the folded newspaper atop the table
on Colin’s right.

Colin’s
gaze moved unconsciously toward the paper, then quickly back to Scarlett. 
“It’s nothing to be upset about, Scarlett.  It is actually quite
flattering.”

“Let me
see,” she demanded anxiously, holding out her hand. 

With only
a slight hesitation, Colin handed her the paper.

Quickly
she scanned the pages, until finally her eyes fell upon the society
column.  Her name leapt out at her in bold print and she began to read.

Possessing
a face of angelic perfection, Lady Scarlett McPhearson, who some have already
dubbed The Scarlett Angel, made her debut last night at the Earl and Countess
of Standshire’s ball.  Rumored to be the latest incomparable, Lady
Scarlett didn’t disappoint.  Her flawless beauty is most assuredly
unmatched, and is equaled only by her delightful charm, assuring her position
as the Season’s, if not the century’s, most sought after prize.

It went
on, but Scarlett couldn’t bear to read any further.  “Oh dear Lord,” she
gasped, her eyes widening in horror as she raised her gaze from the
paper.  “I am never leaving this house again.”

“Come now,
it’s not as bad as all that, Minx,” Colin assured her, clearly trying his best
to suppress his amusement.  “Most women would be over the moon after
hearing such praise.”

“
The
Scarlett Angel
,” Scarlett croaked aghast.  Noting the amusement her
brother seemed to have more and more difficulty suppressing, her voice
hardened.  “I am so glad you are amused.”

“Now
Scarlett…”

“I am
referred to as a prize!” she fumed, her blue eyes shooting fire.  “Am I a
trophy then, a mere
thing
to be awarded, such as a tin cup given to the
winner of a horse race?”

“I’m sure
it was meant as a compliment,” Gavin said, trying to be helpful.

A mutinous
look from Scarlett, in addition to the quelling looks from his brothers,
clearly suggested that he was better off keeping his mouth shut, and after
spooning a large mouthful of eggs into his mouth, he did just that.

As her
brothers all became suddenly engrossed in their breakfasts, Scarlett sat back
in her chair with a frustrated sigh.  She had no desire to be the toast of
Society.  She didn’t crave the attention nor did she long to be regarded
as the prime catch for England’s most eligible bachelors, for Alec Weston had
already claimed her heart.

Thankfully
Georgie’s timely entrance momentarily diverted her from her doleful thoughts. 
Sweeping hurriedly into the room in a flurry of rustling skirts, a wide grin
lighting up her rosy features, Georgie was obviously in high spirits. 

“Have you
seen the paper?” she exclaimed, more a statement than a question, her animated
features reflecting her elation as she waved the folded newspaper excitedly to
and fro.  “It’s even better than we could have hoped,” she continued,
oblivious to the others apparent lack of jubilation.

Scarlett
groaned inwardly.  So much for diversions.

“My
goodness, have you seen the stack of calling cards and invitations you have
already received?” she asked, directing her delighted gaze toward
Scarlett.  “They have been arriving all morning.”

Georgie
was so excited that Scarlett, even in her current state of mind, didn’t have
the heart to dampen her spirits.  With an inner sigh of resignation, she
forced a smile to her lips and somehow managed to sound upbeat when she
responded to Georgie’s question.  “No I hadn’t noticed, but that’s
wonderful.”

Her
brothers had all risen from the table at Georgie’s entrance, but she quickly
motioned for them to be seated as she dropped the paper onto the table and then
walked over to the buffet, procuring a cup of tea from the attending footman.

“It’s
better than wonderful,” she exclaimed, obviously too excited to sit down as she
sipped her tea.  Walking over to stand beside Scarlett’s chair, Georgie
placed her hand on Scarlett’s shoulder and gave a gentle, yet exuberant
squeeze.  “I am so proud of you, Scarlett.”

Scarlett
looked up at the woman who had become more of a friend, than a tutor.  “I
couldn’t have done it without you Georgie.  Thank you.”

Georgie’s
beaming face was enough to make Scarlett feel contrite about her earlier
outburst.  It was ridiculous to feel so ungracious about her social
triumph, especially when so many other young women would have given almost
anything for even a small portion of her success.

“As soon
as you’re finished eating we can begin going over all of the invitations,”
Georgie said, barely able to contain her joy.

For
Georgie’s sake, Scarlett forced a smile and did her best to match the older
woman’s enthusiasm.

Later that
afternoon, Rory surprised Scarlett by offering to take her riding along Rotten
Row in Hyde Park the following morning.  Though she’d left Mischief behind
at Grey Oaks, she knew that her brothers kept several mounts in the city, in
addition to their numerous carriage horses.  She was certain she could
find a suitable mount for herself, and was more than thrilled for the
opportunity to ride upon the legendary Rotten Row.  She made Rory promise
to come home early that night so that they could get up and go first thing in
the morning.

Promptly at
six-thirty the following morning, Scarlett stood outside her brother’s
bedchamber, knocking loudly upon the solid wooden panel.
 
“Rory, are you awake?” she asked for the
second time, and again received only silence in response.  When she
knocked the third time, she heard a muffled groan, and then barely audible
words that sounded very much like “
go away.”

Turning
the knob, she pushed his door open a few inches.  “You had better be
decent, because in fifteen seconds I am coming in,” she stated loudly through
the small opening.

Another
groan followed as she mentally counted to fifteen.

Shoving
the door open, she entered Rory’s room and marched directly to the side of his
bed.  Her brother was lying on his stomach, the sheets fortunately
covering the majority of his naked back, while a pillow covered his head. 
Yanking it off, she glared down at his tousled hair.  “Rory, wake up,” she
demanded.

“Damnation
Scarlett, it’s not even morning yet,” he mumbled into the sheets.

“It most
certainly is morning, and you promised to take me riding.”

With
another groan, Rory turned his head to face her, blinking as the early morning
sunlight tortured his eyes.  “Are you sure I said I’d take you
this
morning?” he questioned.

“I’m
positive, and I warned you not to stay out all night,” she retorted, feeling
little sympathy for her brother, especially since she had left Alec’s bed well
before dawn in order to garner a few hours of sleep.

“Didn’t
mean to,” he mumbled.  Yawning, he pulled the pillow back over his
head.  “Lost track of the time.”

“Well that
is hardly my fault,” Scarlett replied, glaring in exasperation at the pillow
that was once again covering Rory’s head.  She was quickly losing her
patience.  “Get up and take me riding you lazy slug,” she said, poking him
in the shoulder.

“Ah c’mon,
Scarlett, can’t we go tomorrow morning instead?” he pleaded, peeking out from
under the pillow.

Rather
than giving in to the desire to take Rory’s pillow and thump him over the head
with it, she decided to change tactics.  She heaved a dejected sigh, and
cast her eyes downward, looking at her brother from beneath her lashes. 
“But Rory, you promised, and I was so looking forward to it,” she said,
breathing another disheartened sigh at the end for added effect.

Rory eyed
her disparagingly.  “That only works on Colin.” 

She dipped
her head further and managed a tiny sniffle.

Rory
closed his eyes and heaved an exaggerated sigh.  “I’ll be down in thirty
minutes.”

“Make it
twenty,” she replied with a cheeky grin, her dejection evaporating as quickly
as it had appeared.  As she turned and headed toward the open door, she
wasn’t the least surprised when Rory’s plump, feather-stuffed pillow sailed
past her head and thudded against the wall a few feet to her right. 
Smiling happily, she fairly skipped from the room, pulling the door shut behind
her as she headed for the stairs.

When she
reached the breakfast room, she poured herself a cup of tea and grabbed a scone
from the buffet table.  The neatly folded paper was lying nearby, but she
deliberately ignored it.  She couldn’t bear it if they had printed another
article about her.  They had attended the museum exhibit the night before,
nothing that should have garnered any mention, but she preferred not to take
the chance and left the paper lying where it was.

When Rory
finally made it downstairs nearly thirty minutes later, Scarlett was waiting
for him at the entrance to the breakfast room with a cup of steaming coffee in
one hand and an apple
danish
in the other. 
“Here, drink this,” she ordered, shoving the cup into his hand.

“Can I sit
down at least?” he asked, giving her a baleful look.

“No, now
drink up.”

“Have you
always been this bossy?” he asked between sips.

She just
rolled her eyes.

“All
right, that’s enough,” Scarlett said after only a couple of minutes, pulling
the cup from Rory’s grasp and setting it on the table.  “You can drink all
the coffee you want when we get home.”  Shoving the danish into his now
empty hands, she grabbed the sleeve of his jacket and started pulling him along
behind her as she headed toward the outer garments that were already laid out
and ready to be put on.  It was quite chilly in the mornings and she
didn’t want to have to cut their ride short because they got cold.

“For
goodness sake, Scarlett, the bloody track isn’t going anywhere,” Rory grouched
between bites.  “What’s the hurry?”

“Rory,”
she began, once again rolling her eyes, “even I know that just after sunrise is
when the serious riders take to the track.  Do you think I want to wait
until midday so that we can go plodding along behind all of the docile mares
and their indolent riders, not to mention the carriages filled with elderly
ladies out for their leisurely afternoon promenades?”

“Fine,
fine, you win,” he said, popping the last of the danish into his mouth. 
“Hand me my coat you troublesome baggage,” he teased playfully. 

Within
minutes they were dressed and ready to go. 

As they
walked toward the carriage house, Scarlett was relieved to see that the ground
was dry, for she hadn’t really fancied the idea of getting her new riding habit
mud-spattered.  Back home, when riding conditions were less than ideal,
she simply donned an old pair of breeches.  Unfortunately, riding down
Rotten Row in a pair of her brother’s faded castoffs wasn’t an option, so she
was thankful they hadn’t gotten any rain or snow during the past few
days. 

With her
arm looped snugly through Rory’s, Scarlett breathed in the crisp morning air as
they walked.  Glancing at his expression, she was pleased to see that his
spirits seemed to be improving.  Of all her brothers, Rory was by far the
most upbeat and cheerful of the group.  He was hardly ever in a foul mood,
and when he was, it rarely lasted for long.

“I thought
you were going to come home early last night.  What kept you out so
late?  Or, should I ask
who
kept you out so late?” Scarlett asked,
noticing the guilty expression and telltale blush that suddenly darkened Rory’s
cheeks.  “Let me guess,” she continued, “it was the ballet dancer, wasn’t
it?”

Not only
was Rory the most happy go lucky of her four brothers, he was also the one who
tended to forget more often than naught, that she wasn’t just another one of
the boys.  She could talk to him about almost anything.

“How the
blazes do you know about her?”  Rory asked, looking slightly taken aback
at the accuracy of her guess.

“Ahh, so
I’m right then!”

“I didn’t
say that.”

“Well, am
I?”

“You are
too bloody impertinent for your own good, do you know that?”  Rory
queried, trying and failing to look stern.

“Tell me
if I’m right and I will tell you how I know about her.”

“You do
know that Colin would box my ears if he knew we were having this conversation.”

“I won’t
tell him if you don’t.”

He
regarded her in silent exasperation for a moment, and then nodded.  “Fine,
you’re right.”

“Is she
your mistress?”  Scarlett asked boldly.

Rory
rolled his eyes skyward, clearly unable to believe they were discussing what
they were discussing.  “No, she is not my mistress.  Now, no more
questions,” he said firmly.  “It’s your turn.”