Page 1 of Kiss the Scoundrel Farewell
PROLOGUE
May 1817
“Be most attentive and charming toward Lord Drake tonight, Margaret,” said her mother as the carriage rattled along the cobblestones. Her fan was already out and moving at amazing speed.
“Why?” Her parents were determined to see her betrothed before the end of the Season. She was quite content with the attention of Lord Hayward. He was handsome, his dark looks practically sending her into a swoon whenever his gaze landed upon her.
“He is interested in a match, my dear,” said her father, peering out the window as the coach slowed, joining the line of vehicles making their way to the front of a marquess’s townhouse.
“I thought you wanted me to marry someone who would give us more status, Papa,” she objected. Her father was a viscount and hoped to improve the standing of his family name. “Lord Hayward will be an earl. Lord Drake is a baron.”
“Hayward’s father is floating in the River Tick. He has so many vowels, he’d be in debtor’s prison if he wasn’t a peer. Drake is one of the oldest names in London with no scandal attached to him, and he’s plump in the pockets.” He smiled at Meg. “It would be a good merger of families.”
“Remember, my dear,” added Mama, “our family is new to Debrett’s compared to many, though our coffers are fuller than most. Our wealth will complement his ancient lineage.”
“What of my brother? Will he not marry well?” Robert was never brought to task for anything.
“He will do his duty when it’s time. For now, you will lead the way with the baron. It will set Robbie up nicely for the future.” Lord Flemming’s tone brooked no argument.
Meg blinked. She had one more card to play. Lord Drake was handsome, but he was loose in the haft. “What of his womanizing?”
“The devil, girl. He’s a man and allowed to do what he wants. Just smile and be gracious.” He lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger, pinching hard. “Don’t test me on this matter, d’you understand?”
She blinked back hot tears and nodded, focusing on the pale-blue lace that overlaid her ivory gown. Stop it. Perhaps the baron would change his mind and find another family with a daughter he preferred. If not, it wasn’t as if Lord Hayward had made his intentions known. But she’d had the feeling he was interested. Their carriage stopped again, this time in front of the townhouse. She drew in a deep breath and pasted on pleasant expression, understanding how it felt to be a lamb going to slaughter.
Lord Drake was blond, short of stature, but tall with self-importance and confidence. He was good-looking, with brown, emotionless eyes and a smile that resembled more of a smirk. He danced with her twice, the last a waltz. He held her too closely, but when she tried to put distance between them, he only clamped her waist tighter.
“Don’t be shy,” he whispered, his breath moist against her ear. “I’m thinking you may be the fortunate debutante who wins my hand.”
Meg forced herself to look at him, their heights almost the same. “Shouldn’t that supposed to be the other way around, my lord?” She returned his smirk.
He laughed, causing several other couples to look in their direction. “Aren’t you a little saucebox? Good, I like a bit of fire in my bed.”
Her heart sank. She would not escape this union.
When Meg took some fresh air on the balcony, Lord Hayward found her. She felt him before he leaned onto the rail next to her. “You look lovely tonight, Miss Flemming.”
She smiled up at him, her bottom lip trembling. “And you are as handsome as ever.”
His blue eyes shone with concern. “Is everything all right?”
Meg shook her head. “I’m just overheated.”
“Would you like to take a walk? The marquess has the best garden in London.” He waggled his dark brows, his smile so inviting.
Meg had always been a dutiful daughter, avoiding moments such as this because it could lead to a kiss. In that instant, she decided on one final act of rebellion. “I would love to.”
Lord Hayward tucked her hand inside the crook of his elbow. They talked as if they had been friends forever. He spoke of racing his horse early in the morning on Rotten Row. She told him of her upcoming visit to her friend’s estate after the Season ended.
“Miss Florentia?” he asked. “She seems a prime article.”
“Oh, she’s my dearest and oldest friend,” agreed Meg. The night was humid, the air heavy with the scent of spring blooms. She studied the viscount’s profile, finding him as handsome as a Roman sculpture.
Lord Hayward stopped walking. “We should return before your mama comes looking for you.”
Meg nodded, though she could have stayed in the garden with him forever. When she gazed up at him, she saw an odd expression on his face.
“May I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low.
