Free Somewhat Scandalous (Brambridge Novel 1) by Pearl Darling

side.
    “Lord Anglethorpe, I—”
    Henry stared at her. “Stow it, Miss Beauregard. Everyone’s seen where this has been going.” He shook his head and, sighing, looked away into the fire. “Charles, I’ll expect you tomorrow morning to discuss settlements.”
    “Now look here, old chap,” Charles stuttered, “I…” He stopped, taking in the formidable form of Henry. “You hussy,” he hissed at Agatha. “You’ve played me for a fool, but I’ll get you yet.”
    What the goodness was he talking about? Charles’ hand that had gripped Agatha’s hand unclenched. She dropped to the floor, unsupported. Winded of breath, she clutched at her dress and gazed unseeingly into the grate. The packet of letters continued to blaze in the flames, quickly turning into ash, the last scrap of writing caught in the iron tongue of the grate. Agatha stared at the writing and winced.
    “I don’t need jokes, I need help ,” she muttered.
    A gasp broke through her distress. Lady Foxtone, the hostess of the ball, leaned against the door entrance; her hand flapped wildly in front of her face.
    Woken from her momentary stupor, Agatha clutched her bodice to her bare breast and tried to stand. Charles gave her a disgusted look and marched out of the salon.
    Henry ran a hand through his hair. “Agatha, I…” He stopped and clenched his fists. “Enough,” he said quietly and followed Charles to the door.
    Lady Foxtone stopped fanning her face abruptly and stalked towards her, her sumptuous dress whispering against the furniture.
    “Leave here, you wanton harlot.” The woman glared at her with disdain as she breathed heavily through her nose. “This is my ball, my event, and you have just ruined it with your activities.” Her voice rose in a scream. “Get out, get out…”
    Gathering her ripped dress to her body, Agatha stumbled to the hallway. Lady Foxtone’s screams had attracted the attention of some of the dancers, who stepped into the corridor in groups of two or three.
    Charles put out a hand to Lady Foxtone, who pushed out of the room past Agatha. “I’m terribly sorry my lady.” She stared at him, her collarbone raised and stark against the whiteness of her chest. “I didn’t mean to—”
    “Enough, Fashington.” Lady Foxtone breathed heavily and then relaxed, the cords of her neck disappearing. With a mercurial smile, she lifted her skirts slightly and swept down the corridor. “Nothing to see here,” she said evenly. “I thought I saw a mouse.” She laughed gaily and made a moue to the interested crowd, turning slowly to look at Agatha. “How silly of me to try and tell it to leave.” With one last glance backwards over Agatha’s shoulder and with a push of her hands, she urged the laughing ladies and gentlemen back into the ballroom.
    “I’ll get your wrap.” Henry disappeared back into the blue room.
    Agatha pulled at the silken material that had slipped to her waist. “But I…”
    Henry reappeared within seconds. “I couldn’t find it.” He pulled his hand out of his coat, drawing out a pocket watch, studied it briefly and then shook his head. With a furious shrug of his shoulders, he removed his jacket and pushed the watch into his waistcoat. “Take my coat.” Henry pushed his crumpled coat tails around Agatha with rough fingers. “And get moving.”
    On shaking legs, Agatha hurried down the corridor, tears clouding her eyes. Not even the familiar smell of soap and spicy smoke comforted her. If anything it made her feel even more alone.
    Sitting silently in the rocking carriage that took her back to Mount Street, she clenched her hands. The wind buffeted the carriage, causing it to veer from side to side. It was too dark to see and count the velvet strands on the seat in front of her. Even if she could have seen them she knew that she would have been unable to concentrate, her desperation too far gone to have found the activity soothing. Henry had warned her her behavior would land her