Free Scandal at Vauxhall (Pleasure Garden Follies) by Layna Pimentel

saw you. She has not stopped barking
orders, nor has she ceased in expressing her displeasure with the décor. She
keeps going on about an engagement party.”
    His man of
affairs and Avonlea chuckled loudly and offered to wait for him in the library.
    “Do not fret,
old friend. I happen to like the décor, and I will see to setting her in her
place.” Nathaniel quipped with a smile.
    Good
Lord, what could the woman want? He had only been in town
for a few minutes, and he had already managed to chase off a Bow Street Runner and
now, he must do the same with his meddling mother. Such luck he had. And if he
knew her right, she had already read the daily.
    Entering the
parlor, Nathaniel found his mother pacing to and fro, by the window. He slowly
crossed the hall and poured himself some port at the sideboard. “Would you care
for some, ma’am?”
    “ Hurumph ! You know very well, Nathaniel, I will not drink
that. ’Twas what ruined your father, and I will not have the same thing happen
to you.”
    “What are you
going on about now, Mother? Father drank in the evening when he played cards
with his chums.”
    “Or when he was
with his mistress. You know, with each day that passes, I see more of him in
you. For instance,”—she tossed the paper at him and continued her rant—“is that
what really happened, or did she convince you to do worse?”
    She had heard all
right—the most scandalous and butchered version of events.
    “No, it did not
happen like this. And for the record, I love her. Were it not for her parents
passing her off to the Duke of Brimley, she would have been my wife the moment
I returned to London.” He wandered the room, ignoring the dowager still sitting
in his favorite chair, looking regal but possessed. “Yes, we had an
indiscretion, and it was completely my fault. Had I just waited until we were
married, none of this would have happened.”
    “Married?” the
middle-aged woman croaked.
    “Yes, Mother.
Married.”
    “That trollop’s
husband has not even been dead cold in the ground for a year, and you are going
to marry her? I will not stand for it. Your sister’s reputation depends on you
doing the honorable thing now. Discard any notion of marrying her this instant. Find yourself a
respectable bride, or I will.”
    “No.” Nathaniel
clenched his fists to keep himself from throwing a nearby object.
    “No? You are
mad, Nathaniel!” the crone shrieked.
    “I am not, and I
will not tolerate you throwing more insults my way. If you are quite done,
please see yourself out. Do not make any attempt to create more havoc than what
already exists, or you can be sure I will make you pay.”
    “You would make
your only sister pay for your sins? You tread on dangerous ground, Nathaniel.
You may be the Marquess of Stoughton and can flaunt your power and prowess
around, but I assure you, this is not the last of this conversation.”
    He dragged his
hands through his hair and held his breath for a few moments. Just what is it with everyone today, wanting
to have the last word with me? He crossed the room before glancing back. “I
trust you can see yourself out.”
    Storming down
the hall, he entered the library, slamming the door behind him. He took a seat
across from both men by the fireplace and stared into the flames. “Well,
gentlemen, it would appear that we will have to take things into our own hands.
Though, I am surprised by your presence here, Avonlea. What is amiss?”
    “Life has been
dreadfully boring abroad, not to mention a certain widow keeps following me
around. I have no desire to get wrapped up with money-grubbing widows. If I
wanted a fancy lady who would cost me a pretty penny, I would much rather find
the most extravagant courtesan to spend my money on and still leave with my
cock attached.”
    Ah!
There is that randy sense of humor that I knew of back in Oxford. “You
don’t say. Well now that you are back, you should check out Madame Martine’s
establishment. I hear they