Unmasked by her Lover (Season of Scandal #4) - Mary Lancaster Page 0,1

can’t change that,” her mother said hastily. “We have to work with what did happen, not what should have. And your father is quite right. You have to be married now, to a man of good character and excellent birth.”

“Who doesn’t mind that his wife spent the night at an orgy?”

“Who doesn’t believe his wife spent the night at an orgy,” her mother retorted. “Which you didn’t in any way that matters. So, we have chosen someone who knows you and will be happy to help.”

“Help?” Meg repeated. “Marrying me is a little more than standing up with me at Almack’s!”

“Harry will help,” her mother stated.

“Harry?” Meg said quickly.

“Harry de Vere,” her father said impatiently. “Staunton’s brother.”

“Yes, but Harry is a friend,” Meg objected in sudden panic.

“Who else would marry you?” the duchess demanded. “I am writing to him now, while your father writes to Lord Staunton.”

“But Harry is in France,” Meg said desperately.

“No, he isn’t. He’s in London. He came home last week, recovered from his wounds,” her father said.

“I am asking him to call at eleven,” the duchess added. “So you had better go and change and make yourself more presentable before you breakfast.”

At this unmistakable dismissal, Meg turned helplessly away and walked to her chamber in something of a daze. How could this mess just keep getting worse?

Not that she wouldn’t be pleased to see Harry again. He was one of her oldest friends. They had played together as children, including their siblings, but there had always been a special closeness between her and Harry. Until they had grown up, and he had ruined it all by proposing marriage.

Fortunately, her parents had had no intention then of throwing her away on a mere younger son, so she had never needed to reject him in words. Or even avoid him afterward since he had gone to the Peninsula with his regiment almost immediately. She hadn’t seen him since.

Now, of course, that she was almost on the shelf, and a scandal was about to rage over her, he was suddenly acceptable. Well, for the sake of their old friendship, she would not let him be dragged down.

On the other hand, with the passing of five years, she realized she had been foolish in her old outrage, in her inability to understand any change in their relationship. She hadn’t wanted a lover. She had wanted a friend. For the very good reason that her heart had been given elsewhere. Or she thought it had.

She had not communicated with him in those years, although with the news of battles, she had always scoured the Gazette for word of him. She had been proud of his mentions in dispatches and appalled by talk of his injuries at Toulouse. And now he was home and recovered, thank God. Harry, her friend.

As she gazed into the glass in her chamber, she saw instead his face, the mischievous boy with the engaging smile and floppy, dark blond hair, the smart young hussar so proud of his uniform, so desperate for life and adventure. Her friend. He might well help her…

Either way, she would not be so mean as to marry him. However, it was clear she did need to get out of London. For even if she refused Harry, or induced him not to offer for her in the first place, it would not be long before her furious parents found someone else considerably less congenial who, no doubt, owed her important father a favor. Unthinkable to be married for such a reason.

She paid no attention to how the maid dressed her or pinned her hair, though when she met her mother in the breakfast parlor, the duchess deigned to approve her, even patted her hand in a comforting sort of way.

“You will do,” she murmured.

For what? Meg wondered wryly. A ruined bride?

After breakfast, she fetched a novel she was halfway through and her largest reticule into which she stuffed a comb, toothbrush, and tooth powder. Then, she slipped downstairs to the reception room closest to the front door. From the window seat, she would be able to see Harry arrive and get to him first.

It was not a day to concentrate on reading. Instead, the book lay open and ignored in her lap while her mind dwelled on the note that had tricked her and the other ladies into attending the absent princess yesterday. Who would have done such a thing, and why? Could it truly have been an administrative mistake? Or a mischievous