The Perfect Scandal by Delilah Marvelle Page A

procrastinating and see if it were at all possible for this fascinating little flirtation between them to lead to something more.

SCANDAL FOUR
    Gossip is but a weapon that enables many in society to sustain power over those that threaten their way of thinking and their way of life. Retain your power by not giving them anything to gossip about. Life will be boring, yes, but it is far better than dealing with a fucking mess.
    â€”How To Avoid A Scandal,
Moreland’s Original Manuscript
    The following day
11:45 a.m.
    S O MUCH FOR TAKING A TURN about the square.
    Or ever leaving the house again.
    For some reason, an endless parade of calling cards had been delivered to Zosia’s door over the span of one short hour. Even more astounding than that was the incredibly long line of gentlemen, as well as servants and footmen in livery sent by their masters, all patiently waiting to deliver more cards toher door. The never-ending line of gentlemen actually rounded about the entire square!
    Even long after the butler had politely stepped outside and announced to the crowd that no more cards were being accepted for the day, they all continued to incessantly linger as if expecting the butler to change his mind. Surely, such outrageous behavior, and on such a vast scale, wasn’t normal. Not even for the Brits.
    Seeing as none of the footmen were able to answer any of her questions pertaining to this most bizarre situation, she knew it was time to step outside and ask some of these men a few questions of her own.
    Zosia swung a slippered foot forward, propelling herself and her crutches across the foyer in the direction of the stout butler and the lanky footman. Both men strategically set themselves between her and the door like the annoying wardens they had all been tasked to be.
    She sighed, pausing in the middle of the foyer. “I have a right to know why half of London is standing outside my doorstep. Do I not?”
    The butler, Mr. Lawrence, offered an apologetic nod, his tonic-slathered gray hair glinting. “That you do, Countess, but there is no need for concern. We were expecting them.”
    She blinked. “We were? All of them?”
    â€œYes. They came to deliver their cards.” Hegestured toward the velvet-lined silver box filled with stacks and stacks of cards, set on the French side table beside the door. “I was instructed to cease accepting any more once the box was full. And as you can see, Countess, the box is quite full.”
    Zosia eyed the box and then squinted at the man. “And why are we acquiring such a disturbing number of calling cards?”
    â€œHis Majesty intends to personally wade through them.”
    â€œAh. And I imagine there is a reason for it?”
    â€œYes, Countess. There is.”
    She hesitated, waiting expectantly for said reason. When he did not provide it, despite an insinuated prompt of silence, she sighed. “And what is the reasoning, Mr. Lawrence?”
    â€œHis Majesty will decide which of these men are to be granted interviews.”
    â€œInterviews?” she prodded.
    â€œYes.”
    Why did the British never fully convey their thoughts? It was so annoying. She sighed again. “Interviews for what, Mr. Lawrence?”
    He cleared his throat. “For your matrimonial consideration. I was notified of it last night by royal courier and thought it best not to alarm you.”
    She didn’t know whether to be flattered or upset. Shifting against her crutches, she eyed her servants,trying to understand why they seemed to know far more about her own life than she did. After all, she was the one expected to take a husband. Not them. “Why would His Majesty call for my matters to be conducted so publicly? It is neither respectable or acceptable to have this many men loitering outside my home.”
    Bringing his white-gloved hands together, Mr. Lawrence respectfully replied, “We are all but loyal subjects. We never question His