Scandalous by Cassandra Dean

Author:Cassandra Dean
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: romance, short story, historical, historical romance, regency, regency romance, scandal

Chapter Four

Ever impassive, the earl stared at her. Moments passed, filled only with the faint strains of music and laughter.

Breaking their gaze, Sofie exhaled forcefully. Damnation, was he ever going to speak? He’d begged for her to listen, and now he said nothing at all. Folding her arms, she looked toward the ballroom. It would take less than nothing to leave him, alone in the dark with his unspoken explanations.

“I am thought to be dissolute, Miss Hargrove,” the earl said.

Surprise by the sudden words, Sofie glanced at him. Jaw tense, he looked somewhere left of her shoulder. Then, she realized what he’d said. Unable to help herself, she barked a laugh. “Do tell.”

He didn’t react to her sarcasm, but then when did he show anything approaching emotion? Immediately, a memory rose, of hot eyes, rasping breath and urgent hands. Quickly, she quashed such foolishness to focus only on the present. Only on her hate.

“I am thought to be a wastrel, a useless thing,” he continued. “I do not begrudge this reputation, you understand. Indeed, I do my best to adhere to it.”

He was telling her things she already knew. “I do not—”

“I beg your indulgence.” Something flickered in his expression, something that might have been discomfort or desperation. He cleared his throat. “It has always been so, since the time I can remember. My mother thought little of me, as did my father. I was raised by nurses and tutors, but that is an experience no different from any child of aristocracy. I went to school. No one expected anything of me. It seemed my character had been determined, and no matter what I did none would waver from it.”

It did not matter. It did not matter his childhood was unhappy, that no one had ever believed in him. It. Did not. Matter.

Tightening her grip on her biceps, she hardened herself. “Again, I do not see how—”

“My apologies, Miss Hargrove, but it will become relevant.” His features again smooth, he placed his hands behind his back. “I decided if I could not impress them, I would live down to their expectations. Indeed, I would exceed them. I became the worst sort of degenerate—wild, careless. I gambled. I made foolish wagers. I rode too fast, drank too much, I got myself into brawls with lads older and bigger than me. I set about to have my first woman and once I had done so, I sowed my oats indiscriminately.” High color stained his cheekbones, as if he were embarrassed to be telling her this, and she knew her own cheeks blazed. Please God, he could not be embarrassed. She could not soften toward him. She could not.

Briefly, she closed her eyes. This. This is what she liked about him. He had always spoke thus, always told her everything, whether it had been fit for her ears or not. He’d delighted in making her blush, in flustering her, and she’d loved seeing his delight. Somehow, she’d known he’d had very little joy in his life, and she’d wanted to give it to him.

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