Free A Christmas Scandal by Jane Goodger Page B

brow a bit.
    “What are we going to do?” she asked, sounding so pathetic, Maggie’s heart wrenched. She wasn’t certain which was worse, her mother when she was unhinged or pitiable. Neither was tenable.
    “Don’t worry, Mama, I shall rescue us,” Maggie said grandly. “I shall be the toast of the season. A feisty, daring American that none of these stodgy old Englishmen can resist.”
    “I feel as though I’m as bad as Elizabeth’s mother for asking you to do this. Worse, perhaps. But I have thought and thought and, other than both of us going into servitude, I cannot think of another escape.”
    “Please don’t, Mama,” Maggie said. “It is time for me to marry. I know that. I have, I think, the same romantic soul as you. I hoped to marry for love, but if that is not the case, I shall marry a man who can take care of all of us. I do hope I find someone to love like you did.”
    Harriet let out a bitter laugh. “Yes, you can see where that got me.”
    Maggie smiled, glad to hear her mother sounding a bit more herself. These past few months had been one trial after another. It was almost as if she were slowly watching her mother fall apart, little pieces left behind with every bad thing that happened. She feared if her mother ever discovered how she bargained away her virginity with Charles Barnes, it would completely destroy her.
    “I’ll let you rest, Mama. I’ll see you at dinner. I hear the Lady Matilda’s children are putting on a little play tonight. They are so charming, are they not?”
    “If you say so,” Harriet muttered.
    “It’s a wonder you kept the boys and me,” she said, smiling. “I’m going to be writing to them both. I shall send them a hello from you.”
    Maggie gathered her writing materials with far more enthusiasm than she should have, telling herself it was perfectly acceptable to look forward to spending time with an old friend. An old friend she had kissed. Last summer in Newport seemed so long ago. Likely her memory had distorted every wonderful thing that had happened because life had become so difficult since. Elizabeth had been miserable, dreading her upcoming marriage to the duke, but Maggie had had the most thrilling summer of her life because that was the summer she’d fallen in love with Lord Hollings. What a wonderful, terrible time that had been, for she’d never thought she’d allow such a disastrous thing to happen. At least, it had been disastrous for her. Lord Hollings had gone home, without saying good-bye, without a note, with nothing but memories that were made all the more painful knowing that all that time, she’d meant nothing more to him than a pleasant distraction. She tried not to dwell on everything about that summer, particularly that kiss. It had only been once and thankfully she had pretended it meant nothing. “I am afraid if you continue on in this amorous way, you will be in danger of falling in love with me,” she’d said, pretending that kiss had been part of their game to keep any possible suitors away. “I do not wish to be a party to breaking your heart when you leave for England. I must ask, then, for the sake of us both, for you to never kiss me again.” And he hadn’t.
    Not even once.
    Oh, why was she thinking about such a thing when she was willingly closeting herself in a room with the man?
    Maggie, who had lied to her mother about a grand desk in the library (she was finding that mendacity was becoming more and more easy), was shocked when she walked into the cavernous room. Squares of light streamed through the dust, giving the room a haziness that was out of place in such a well-run home. Crates were piled on the floor and upon sturdy tables, and books were stacked, seemingly without thought, nearly everywhere. In fact, at first look, Maggie not only couldn’t see a desk; she couldn’t see a clear spot upon which to work. Other than the dust, crates, and books, the room appeared to be empty until she heard a thump