Read Online Scandal of the Year by Olivia Drake - Free Book Online

of Davina, Mama had argued, if Blythe ever hoped to become the Duchess of Savoy.
    Blythe did want to achieve the stellar marriage. Not so much to satisfy her mother’s ambitions, but to please Papa. It was clear he wished to see her well settled. Wedding the duke certainly would be the crowning glory of her London season.
    But she drew the line at groveling before Lady Davina.
    In regard to Savoy, the duke’s daughter might as well be a fire-breathing dragon barring entry to a castle. It would take cleverness to figure out a way to defeat the girl at her own game.
    Pondering the problem, Blythe left the dressing room and went into her sunlit bedchamber. Perhaps her sisters would have some advice on the matter. During their own seasons, they too must have encountered such snobbery.
    Her spirits lightened at the notion of seeing them again. Portia and Ratcliffe were due to arrive from Kent in the late afternoon along with their young son. They were staying with Lindsey and Mansfield, but they would be coming over for dinner this evening.
    It would be just like old times. The whole family would be gathered together, laughing and talking, exchanging news about their lives.
    The happy prospect made Blythe smile as she sat down at the dressing table to arrange her hair. This would be the first evening in a fortnight that she wouldn’t attend any social events, but she didn’t mind in the least. Strange, she had spent her adolescent years impatient to grow up and join the ton. She had never quite appreciated the blessing of having sisters. Now, Portia and Lindsey mattered more to her than an entire ballroom filled with glittering nobility.
    Blythe was adding a few final pins to her hair when a firm knock sounded on the door. Leaning closer to the mirror to check for any loose strands, she called, “Come in.”
    The door opened and her fingers froze in place. In the looking glass, she saw the tall reflection of James entering the bedchamber. His unexpected arrival caused her heart to lurch.
    He was carrying her breakfast tray. “Good morning, Miss Crompton,” he said, appearing remarkably handsome in blue.
    Unable to resist, she turned her head to watch as he crossed the room to place the tray on the round table by the window. A keen awareness of him hummed over her skin. “Where is the maid?”
    “She had a minor mishap below stairs, so I took it upon myself to deliver this.” He fixed his gaze on Blythe. “I do hope you don’t mind my presumption.”
    That direct stare unnerved her. It was so very unlike the other servants. Intrigued, she found herself wanting to unravel the mystery of him. What in his background had made him so bold?
    Realizing she still had her hands raised to her head, Blythe returned her gaze to the mirror and pretended an interest in adjusting a few stray copper strands. “It’s perfectly fine.”
    She refrained from adding that she might have been undressed and therefore didn’t appreciate his intrusion into her sanctum. But it wouldn’t do to put a picture of herself in a state of dishabille into his mind.
    Continuing to primp, she observed him from the corner of her eye. James didn’t immediately depart. Instead, he was lifting the silver covers off the plates. He picked up something and walked to the hearth, then crouched down in front of the grate.
    Curiosity overwhelmed common sense, and she swiveled on the stool to see what occupied him. He had a slice of bread on a long fork and he was toasting it over the flames, turning it to brown both sides.
    “Why are you doing that?” she blurted out.
    “Yesterday, when I delivered the parcel from the Duke of Savoy, I heard you mention that your toast is always delivered cold. No wonder, for the kitchen is quite a distance from here. But as you can see, the problem is easily remedied.”
    Blythe sat in utter amazement. No other servant had ever proposed such a solution. His consideration touched her heart. “That’s very clever of