Page 2 of A Game of Scandal

If you asked me, there was a straight line to be drawn between incidents like the time I got lost in the woods, tracking a family of badgers, or when I almost set the house on fire, taking apart a gas lamp, and my academic interest in solving a mathematical problem. What I enjoyed was the knowing – I wanted to know why things were the way they were. For every problem there was a logical solution. Unfortunately, one area in which I could discover very little in the way of logic was the myriad, confusing, contradictory rules of society.

I did try to behave the way my family wanted, but I never got it quite right. Trouble seemed to follow me around, and Max had always been on hand to fix things.

This had led to the regrettable situation I found myself in now: I was eighteen years old, and whenever my brother looked at me, he still saw a precocious girl in pigtails and knee socks.

“Wasn’t the service interminable?” Cassie groaned now as we fell back, away from the watchful gaze of my brother.

“Endless,” I agreed.

Cassie darted a glance in the direction of Max’s back as he made his way towards the house, and we hovered, smiling politely at people as they passed. “Well?” Her eyebrows raised. “What did he say?”

Whatever expression passed over my face then must have been enough to communicate my frustration, because Cassie exhaled. “He said no? Again?”

“He doesn’t say no,” I grumbled. “He says ‘not yet’, which is much harder to argue against.” I sighed. “He says that once I’ve had a proper season being out, then we can revisit the idea of university. He says Mother is excited about coming to London, showing me off, attending the parties, that it would make her happy, that perhaps I’ll enjoy myself. He makes it sound so reasonable, as though he’s only giving me more options, but the man is utterly transparent. He thinks I’m going to walk into a ballroom and get moony-eyed over some insipid aristocrat, and then he’ll be able to bundle me off safe and sound into marriage and I’ll forget all about studying mathematics. He acts as though the whole thing is a … a … girlish fancy.”

Cassie gave a rumble of annoyance that made me smile. It was a gift to have a friend who was so ferociously on my side. Like me, Cassie had no desire to find a husband. For her, it was a decision born from an absence of romantic interest. For me … well, I already had one overbearing man in my life. I saw absolutely no reason to add another.

“I thought better of him,” she said, disapproval in her tone. “I thought he’d become so much more progressive over the last couple of years. His speech in Parliament last week was extremely stirring.”

“He has,” I agreed quickly, feeling a need to defend Max, even against my own frustration. “He’ll tell you he’s all for women’s education and he means it. It’s about me. You know he’s always been overprotective. Besides, Mother will hate the idea, and he’s trying to keep the peace for as long as possible.”

Cassie’s head dipped in acknowledgment. “Still…” She trailed off.

“Still, it’s not over yet.” I met her gaze, baring my teeth in a smile. “He might think I’ll give up quietly, but he’s about to find out he’s wrong.”

“So what will you do?”

I shrugged. “I’ll think of something. Perhaps I should talk to Izzy again. I know she’s careful about interfering too much in my relationship with Max, but if anyone can get him to see sense it’s her.” I scuffed the ground with my toe, noticing, as I did, a smudge appear on my silly pink-ribboned slippers. “This would be much simpler if I had access to my trust. What’s the point of having all this money if I have to ask Max’s permission to spend it? I can’t spend my own money, but I also can’t get a job, because ladies don’t work. And,” I added, heated now, “if Max had his way, I’d marry and then my husband would control the purse strings instead. It’s infuriating. I have as much right to my inheritance as he does. For goodness’ sake, I’d spend it better than most of the men of my acquaintance. An education, is it really such an outrageous thing to want?”

Cassie nodded eagerly. “Exactly,” she said. “If it wasn’t for Iris, then I’d still be stuck, waiting to do something with my life.” She reached over and squeezed my hand in hers. “No one has more drive than you,” she said. “Max doesn’t see that yet, but he will. It would be criminal to keep a mind like yours caged. He loves you; he’ll come around. We must remember that sometimes men can be painfully slow on the uptake.”

Hearing her words felt like drinking something warm on a cold day, a pleasant feeling spreading through my body. Cassie’s belief in me was unshakable, and had been since we had met four years ago at one of the few social occasions young, well-bred girls were allowed to attend: a bland tea party at someone’s London home. I’d discovered Cass sneaking outside with pilfered finger sandwiches to feed to the hostess’s fat pug, and we’d been firm friends from that moment on.

Cassie had a keen mind and a disdain for the conventional. Until recently, she – like me – had been denied the opportunity to put that mind to good work, but after her mother and sister had departed for Europe, leaving Cassie to stay with Iris, along with access to the trust left to her by her stepfather, she had wasted no time in enrolling at University College London to study medicine. My feelings were a swirling mixture of pride and envy, and I’d be lying if I said it hadn’t led to me stepping up my own campaign with Max. I had a brain – a brilliant one, as it happened – and I wanted to use it.

My affinity for numbers had outstripped my governess’s when I was eight years old, and – I believe because it amused him – Max had hired a young male tutor from Oxford to help me with my mathematics. By ten, I was running circles round the man. In the intervening years, I’d taught myself, poring over books and journals, striking up correspondence with several eminent mathematicians (always under the name F. Vane, never quite trusting that the gentlemen in question would be so forthcoming had they known I was a woman).

But what I longed for, what I needed now, was instruction: proper instruction and direction. I had a lot of bits of knowledge and a natural gift, but I knew perfectly well that I was capable of much more. I wouldn’t even need to leave the city for the longed-for glory of Cambridge. University College accepted female students; even the London Mathematical Society had elected a handful of female members – they were doing important work, publishing it, and I wanted to be a part of it all so badly that it made my teeth ache. It was the start of a whole new century, and it felt as though anything were possible.

“Let’s not think about it now,” I said, shaking my head as if to dislodge the frustrations that ran in a loop there. “It’s only making me cross, and then Max will tell me off for scowling at everyone. Not appropriate for a wedding.”

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to socialize,” my friend said glumly. “Small talk. The horror.”

“Perhaps we could sneak off?” I suggested. “We could take the bicycles.” I glanced up at the cloudless blue sky. It was cold but the sun shone; I could almost feel the ripple of the breeze that would brush its icy fingers across my face as we pedalled down one of the undulating hills that made up the parkland at Scott-Holland Hall. I spared half a moment’s thought for the gorgeous blue silk gown that Nancy, my maid, had buttoned me into this morning, knowing that this was exactly the sort of trouble Max had been warning against, and smoothly shoved the concern aside. What was the worst that could happen?

Cassie’s expression lit up. “We could slip out of the—”

“Don’t even think about it,” a dry voice came from over my shoulder, and I turned to find the bride herself fixing Cassie with a gimlet stare. “I know exactly what you’re plotting, Cassandra Weston, but you’re the sister of the bride. Stop loitering out here in the cold. Come inside and greet people with me.”

Cassie pouted briefly, but softened when Iris smiled at her.

“You look lovely, Lady Wynter,” I said. And she did. She looked like the fairy on top of the Christmas tree – gleaming gold hair, deep blue eyes, a delicate face. She wore a wedding dress of fine Italian white lace that was so breathtakingly lovely she must have designed it herself. She was dainty, elegant, and my words brought a hint of soft pink to her cheeks. If you didn’t know her, you’d think her a lamb, rather than what she really was – a fox in disguise. There was nothing soft about Iris Wynter: she had an iron will and was a force to be reckoned with. I found her fascinating.

“Lady Wynter,” she said, shaking her head. “I suppose I shall get used to that. Anyway…” Iris’s expression turned stern. “I can tell that the pair of you are cooking up mischief, but I already told Cassie she’s to hold off scandalizing the guests at least until after we’ve eaten.”

Cassie sighed and shared a doleful look with me. “She’s a respectable married lady now.”

“Oh, I hope I shall never be that,” Iris replied coolly. “For one thing, my husband would be terribly disappointed.”