Free Scandal of the Year by Olivia Drake

princess as his bride. Not long ago, he had written to Portia in glowing terms of his happiness upon the birth of his first son.
    Such was the way of the world, Blythe reflected again. There could be no breeching the rigid boundaries of one’s own social circle. It simply wasn’t done. Yet as she glanced up at James, she acknowledged a twinge of regret, for he was more captivating than any of the idle gentlemen who courted her.
    She banished the foolish thought at once. Her parents would be horrified if they knew she’d harbored such a notion about a footman.
    James continued to gaze at her, his dark eyes full of mystery. “How very fascinating it all sounds,” he said.
    “Perhaps.” Flustered under his scrutiny, she pushed back her chair. “By the by, you’re mistaken to think I haven’t kept any mementos of India. I’ve some pieces tucked away, embroidered shawls from Kashmir, gold bangles, beautiful ivory carvings. I’ll show you one of my favorite things.”
    Blythe stepped into her dressing room and returned with a spray of peacock feathers in a white vase. She fingered the long, delicate fronds of turquoise, green, and brown. “We had a flock of peacocks in our garden in India. Have you heard of the birds? They’re quite large and have a very raucous cry for so lovely a creature.”
    James came closer to examine the plumes. “I’ve read of them. The male bird displays a fan of feathers to attract the female for purposes of mating.” He paused, then added, “One might say it’s rather like the dandies of society, strutting and preening to catch a lady’s attention.”
    She laughed, thinking of Viscount Kitchener in his leaf-green coat and elaborate cravat. But she didn’t want to talk about society, not when memories of India shone so brightly in her mind.
    Blythe traced the egg-shaped eye of one feather. “Because of their beauty, the plumage of the peacock is the symbol of royalty. The natives also believe these feathers can ward off the Evil Eye.”
    “Perhaps I should borrow one, then. The other servants seem convinced that your Indian servant, Kasi, has the power of the Evil Eye.”
    “Truly?” Blythe asked in surprise. “I suppose I used to believe that, too, when I was a child and she scowled at me for misbehaving. She does seem to have an uncanny way of knowing things.”
    James wore a slight smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “How long has Kasi been with your family?”
    “For as long as I can remember. Why do you ask?”
    “I merely wondered since she seems so close to you and your mother. I imagine she’s privy to all the family secrets.”
    Blythe started to laugh again, but the alertness of his manner made her suddenly uneasy. Was he seeking tittle-tattle to spread among the other servants?
    She hoped not because that would mean she’d grossly misread his character. “I’m afraid we Cromptons are a rather dull lot. We haven’t any secrets—aside from Portia and Arun, of course.”
    “Of course.” Gathering up the remains of her breakfast, James replaced the domed silver cover over her china plate. “I hope you’ll forgive my curious nature, Miss Crompton, but have you visited Lancashire since your return to England?”
    “Lancashire?” As Blythe set down the vase of peacock feathers on a table, the question caught her off guard. “Do you mean Papa’s estate?”
    “Yes, one of the other servants mentioned that your parents lived there a long time ago. Before you were born.”
    She relaxed. “I see. Well, I haven’t ever visited the place. I suppose Mama and Papa prefer to remain in London.”
    “Most other fine families divide their time between the city and the country. They’re only here for the social season.”
    Wondering at his persistence, Blythe plucked out a feather and ran her fingers through the silky fronds. “That’s true, but why would it be of concern to you?”
    His face bland, he looked up from the tray. “I merely wondered if I might