One Scandalous Kiss by Christy Carlyle Page A

who drove Mother and me away, as angry and bitter as he was all those years ago. But more often he’s a kinder version of that man, with his good humor and even a bit of compassion restored.”
    “That’s the Maxim I knew as a child. If only you’d experienced more of that aspect of his nature.”
    But he hadn’t. Lucius’s childhood memories were of a man embittered by paranoid jealousy and a love for his wife that consumed and twisted him. Though Lucius had lost his mother too early, he recalled her as sweet-natured and intelligent, quick to laugh and more interested in books than in entertaining—a loving antidote to his father’s wrath. Even as a child, he’d wondered what had drawn the two together and vowed never to let himself drown in the sort of love they shared.
    “It must be what my mother saw in him.”
    Augusta’s expression gave nothing away. She rarely spoke of the difficulties of his parents’ marriage.
    “Yes, I’m sure it was. Do give him my love when you return to Hartwell.”
    “Of course.”
    Maintaining the estate and caring for his father had consumed the last several years of Lucius’s adulthood. Though Augusta marked the change in her brother from the day Lucius’s mother died, Lucius recalled his father’s extremes from much earlier and suspected they’d always been a part of his character. And whatever the cause of his failing memory—the village doctor ascribed it to Maxim’s age—Lucius’s one avowed goal was to keep him at Hartwell and provide whatever care he needed. Rancor aside, Maxim was his father.
    “What of our discussion of eligible young ladies?” Augusta was a master at drawing him back to the matter at hand whenever his mind wandered elsewhere.
    “Are there so many on the list?” The prospect had never seemed more daunting.
    Aunt Augusta chuckled. Matchmaking tended to make her giddy.
    “There is one young lady in particular I’d like you to meet.”
    “Is she in London?” If she was, it was only reasonable to extend his stay another day and allow his aunt the introduction. He didn’t wish her efforts to be in vain.
    “As it turns out, no. She’s in Saratoga, New York, apparently, and decided to extend her stay. She means to make a visit to Marleston Hall within a fortnight.”
    “Saratoga?”
    “A bit like Bath, I understand.”
    “Very well, send for me after she settles in, and we’ll see if your machinations are as effective as you claim.”
    His aunt loved a challenge nearly as much as a matchmaking opportunity. Where his future was concerned, she’d found both.
    Nothing in his life had ever gone as he’d planned. His late brother, Julian, should have been heir to Hartwell. Lucius had considered studying law in Scotland or joining his Scottish uncle’s shipping business in London. He’d never wished to be lord of Hartwell. And he’d certainly never expected to be in search of a suitable woman to become Countess of Dunthorpe.
    “What shall we do about the other young woman?”
    There was no doubt about to whom she referred. He hadn’t thought of Miss Wright for a handful of minutes, but his aunt’s question brought her vividly to mind—and to his senses. His mouth and other southerly parts of his body tingled at the memory of her lips. Then he recalled how they’d parted company, how she’d scampered out of his carriage as if the hounds of hell nipped at her heels.
    He cleared his throat, forcing the memory from his mind.
    “I don’t believe she wishes to continue our acquaintance. And it would hardly be appropriate for me to do so.”
    Seeing the woman again was too absurd to contemplate. Never mind that an impractical urge to meet her in the light of day ticked at the back of Lucius’s mind like an overloud clock. Never mind that he’d spent the better part of the night tormented by thoughts of her, or that she’d apparently lost her shop because of a kiss he feared he’d never forget.
    “Then perhaps I shall see about