Page 1 of Once a Scoundrel

Chapter One

Hartsfield Park, Kent

September 1842

“I heard he had an affair with Baroness Marston.”

Faith Westover rolled her eyes. If she had to hear one more giggling comment from her friends about Stephen Crenshaw, Marquess of Dunwich, she was going to scream.

As she did her best to ignore the group of silly things gathered near her and glanced around the crowded ballroom at the partygoers who had come to celebrate her father’s birthday, she supposed she couldn’t blame them. There was a decided lack of excitement at the party and a veritable dearth of interesting men, which she blamed entirely on her brother James for remaining at university. Which meant that none of his Cambridge friends were in attendance. Which meantthat she and her friends had precious few eligible gentlemen to dance with.

Andthatmeant that her friends had little else to occupy their attentions except for Stephen Crenshaw.

Yet her friends weren’t alone. The room buzzed with guarded whispers about the young marquess. Rumors had spread fast and thick all season about what Stephen had been up to since returning from India three months ago, but even though the partygoers were titillated by the thought of finally seeing for themselves the prodigal marquess, they knew not to openly disparage the man. Not at Hartsfield Park. Not when her father had been best friends with Stephen’s father and uncle since their army days. But rumors still spread in whispers behind flitting fans and over glasses of wine about Stephen. Apparently,thatwas perfectly fine.

Although she was born into their midst, Faith feared she would never understand English society.

“No, it was Viscountess Rathbourne,” another friend corrected amid a flitting of fans as all six girls leaned in to hear.

“It was thedowagerBaroness Marston—”

“But isn’t the dowager dead?”

“Yes,” Faith answered with a heavy sigh of exasperation. “And it wasn’t her daughter-in-law either, as the baron and baroness have been on the continent since April.”

“So itwasthe viscountess!” Her friend’s eyes lit up. “What’s the truth, Faith? You know him.”

Had her friends lost their minds? “I don’t know about a—” She lowered her voice and whispered behind her fan, “A man’sbed sport.”

From the looks her friends gave her, none of them believed her. Instead, they all stared at her, waiting expectantly for her to declare the rumors true.

“Viscountess Rathbourne already has a...friend, in that regard,” Faith confided. Oh, her mother would skin her alive if she heard her talking about her guests like this! But she was certain she wasn’t the only one gossiping about Lady Rathbourne tonight, who was in attendance only because her husband served on the same committees in parliament as Faith’s father. “And he isn’t Stephen Crenshaw.” Although the rascal would most likely be sorely put out that he wasn’t, given the viscountess’s famous beauty and infamous allure.

Disappointment darkened their faces, and this time, they flitted their fans with consternation that the juiciest of the night’s gossip had been quashed so easily.

“All I can say for certain is that he accepted Mama’s invitation to the house party.” Which had been the only society invitation he’d accepted since his return. Given that he’d shadowed the end of the season rather than engaged in it, Faith easily understood why so much gossip had arisen so quickly about him. All of it shocking. Truly, it was as if he’d returned to England and situated himself right back into the same flurry of rumors that had been swirling around him when he left.

Now he was due to arrive at any hour. Should have been here already, in fact, with the other guests who’d arrived that afternoon. But leave it to Stephen to flaunt even the most basic rules of society.

And truly, Faith didn’t care if the scoundrel never appeared. She’d be glad of it, in fact. Glad! Then she wouldn’t have to pretend as if they were still old friends, as if she were happy to see him again. As if a part of her didn’t still blame him for leaving.

“Perhaps he decided to spend the sennight with his mistress.”

Faith froze, her fan in mid-flit as an unexpected bolt of jealousy struck her. Her friend smiled, oblivious to the emotions roiling inside her and happy to broach the most scandalous of the rumors which had surrounded Stephen like a storm cloud since June. That he’d been keeping a mistress.

“I don’t...I don’t...” Faith stammered, unable to form an answer while her friends continued to stare expectantly at her as if she were the Oracle of Delphi, able to solve the deepest mysteries of the age. Of which Stephen Crenshaw had apparently become one.

Worse, she was unable to dissemble—all right, flat outlie—on his behalf because she’d not seen him since his return.

“How can you stand it?” one of her friends demanded. “I’m practically beside myself to see the marquess! Aren’t you the least bit excited?”

“No.”

“Oh, Faith!” Her friends turned up their noses in disbelief that she wasn’t over the moon the way they all were at Stephen’s impending arrival.

But that was because, unlike her friends, she knew him. And his recent behavior was simply Stephen behaving true to form by doing absolutely nothing to dissuade the busybodies andeverything to make the rumors as scintillating as possible. He took a perverse pleasure in being the scapegrace the gossips proclaimed him to be.

Oh, he’d always been one for trouble. Even as a boy he’d resisted the responsibility and sense of duty that had been thrust on him since the day he was born a marquess. He wasn’t spoiled the way so many young lords were—far from it. If anything, Stephen had been constantly reminded of how fortunate he was, expected to work twice as hard as his friends, and taught to behave like an adult from the time he was just a boy.