Free A Scandalous Publication by Sandra Heath

been fortunate enough in the past to attend.”
    “We’ll make up for that sad omission this year,” he said, smiling.
    She looked at the long-case clock standing against the wall between two of the windows. “Goodness, is that the time? My mother will be wondering where I’ve got to.”
    “Allow me to escort you home, Miss Wyndham.”
    “That’s very kind of you, sir, but please do not trouble yourself.” She glanced at the walking stick.
    “My dear young lady, you cannot spare me, for my leech has instructed me to walk as often as possible. I shall take a stroll this afternoon with or without your company to make it more agreeable.”
    She smiled. “Then I should be glad to make it more agreeable, sir.”
    Sylvia assisted him to his feet, and when the two young women had made arrangements to see each other again the following day, the admiral and Charlotte left the house in Cavendish Square and walked the short distance to Henrietta Street.
    Just as Charlotte was about to go inside, her mother happened to look out of the drawing-room window. The admiral’s tips parted in surprise. “As I live and breathe, it’s Sophia Pagett! Miss Wyndham, your mother was Miss Pagett, wasn’t she?”
    “Why, yes, sir. Are you acquainted with her?”
    “I was, my dear.”
    “Then please come inside, sir, for I’m sure she would be delighted to see you again.”
    Mrs. Wyndham was indeed delighted. “Henry Parkstone,” she declared. “I thought you’d long since gone to perdition.”
    He grinned, drawing her hand to his lips. “My dear Sophia, you haven’t changed a bit; you’re still horridly cruel to me. I’ve a good mind not to pay my respects.”
    “You wouldn’t be so ungentlemanly.”
    He looked fondly at her. “Well, well, after all these years…. I had no idea at all that you married George Wyndham. To tell the truth, I thought you’d married some high-up in the East India Company and had gone to live in Madras.”
    “Good heavens,” she replied, “what a terrible thought! Still, our paths wouldn’t have crossed, would they, not when you had the poor taste to be related to the Earl of Barstow. How is the old wretch? His gout is making him suffer, I trust?”
    “As much as ever.”
    “Good.”
    “You always were a heartless creature, Sophia.”
    She smiled. “Oh, Henry, do say you can stay awhile, for we have so much to talk about.”
    “Stay? I’d be honored.”
    Charlotte left them to reminisce. Going up to her room, she took some sheets of paper and a pencil and settled down at the dressing table. She gazed at the blank paper for a moment before beginning to write the first sentence of her secret exposé of Max Talgarth.
     

Chapter Seven
     
    It was a matter of conjecture what Max Talgarth would have said had he known about the odious alter ego Charlotte created for him over the next few weeks, but she doubted very much if he would have appreciated his other self. Rex Kylmerth was too obviously meant for him, from the deliberately similar name to the scarred cheek and flash of gray in his hair, and he was very wicked indeed, carving his way through the pages, seducing, dueling, cheating, and murdering with ruthless abandon. The whole thing was an extremely libelous parody of Max’s supposed career, and Charlotte knew that what she was doing was very reprehensible indeed, especially as anyone happening to read it would know straightaway that Rex and Max were one and the same. But she was very careful to keep the book a secret, hiding it away at the back of her wardrobe where no one would find it.
    Max himself was very much in the public eye, the Westington duel having divided society into two very distinct camps, those who sided with the injured husband and those who believed Max. The affair excited interest among the general public as well, and the gentlemen residents at the exclusive Albany were much irritated by the noisy crowd that gathered outside on the eve of the duel.
    The duel