The Scandal in Kissing an Heir by Sophie Barnes Page A

help her, she was in pain. While the doctor had assured her aunt and uncle that she would survive, having a lead ball extracted and getting stitched up afterward had still hurt like blazes.
    “Did you at least enjoy yourself last night, my lady?” Laura asked. The maid was sitting at Rebecca’s bedside, eyes filled with concern.
    Rebecca took a deep breath and exhaled it. “Yes,” she said, her eyes closing at the memory of it. She could still see Mr. Neville’s handsome face as he smiled back at her. “It was spectacular.”
    “Well, I suppose that’s something,” Laura said. She shook her head. “I never should have agreed to let you go. Lord, you could have been killed!”
    “It would still have been worth it,” Rebecca muttered, too low for Laura to hear. After returning home, she’d been locked inside her room with a promise from her aunt that the next time she ventured outside, it would be to entertain Lord Topperly and the Duke of Grover.
    “You will marry one of them,” her aunt had said. “Naturally, we will decide which of them will suit you best. After everything you’ve put us through—embarrassing us by showing up at the ball the way you did—I daresay we’re looking forward to being rid of you!”
    “All I wanted was the chance to find a husband of my own choosing,” Rebecca had said. “Why won’t you let me do that? Have you no desire to see me happy?”
    “Happy? By God, you’re as spoiled as your mother was—always making demands. It’s her fault my brother’s dead, and yet I took you in after they both perished in that fire, even though you’re just as unlikeable as she was. You ought to be grateful that I’m even capable of finding a man who’s interested in you, given that unfortunate coloring of yours. Why, you look as if you haven’t bathed in a year, and yet I have worked a miracle, finding not one but two titled gentlemen willing to be your husband—old ones, even, whom you’ll soon outlive. If you’re smart about it, you’ll hurry up and give the one you marry a son as soon as possible to secure your own position. Now get to bed—the sooner you recover, the sooner we can get the matter settled.”
    Her aunt had then left, locking the door behind her and leaving Rebecca to wonder exactly how long it would take before her aunt and uncle deemed her fit enough to meet with her suitors. No more than a week, she imagined.
    With little comfort to be had in light of what her future probably held for her, Rebecca had been overjoyed to discover that Laura had managed to convince the Griftons that she’d played no part in Rebecca’s escapade. The cunning maid had actually told the Griftons that Rebecca, being of the sound mind that she was, must have switched the laudanum-laced tea that Laura was supposed to serve to pacify Rebecca when she was at her worst with Laura’s untainted cup. She’d apologized profusely to them for not keeping a better eye on Rebecca, going so far as to claim that Rebecca obviously didn’t know what was best for her and that it was obvious that the Griftons were only trying to do what was in Rebecca’s best interest. They’d swallowed the fib without further question.
    “I don’t suppose there’s any chance that a handsome young gentleman might call on you soon?” Laura asked. “I’d hate to see you married to either of the men that the earl and countess have selected for you. Why they refuse to find someone who’s closer to you in age and whom you might actually stand a chance of happiness with, I cannot imagine.”
    Rebecca groaned, her shoulder aching as she turned a little so she could better see Laura. “They probably don’t want to bother with the hassle of going to the City and dragging me from one ballroom to the next when there are already two gentlemen willing to take me off their hands here, and with no extra expense—you know how fickle they are.”
    Laura nodded. “That’s true, though I still have this niggling