Abandoned to the Prodigal Read online

  Abandoned to the Prodigal

  Season of Scandal

  Book Two

  Mary Lancaster

  © Copyright 2020 by Mary Lancaster

  Text by Mary Lancaster

  Cover by Wicked Smart Designs

  Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.

  P.O. Box 7968

  La Verne CA 91750

  [email protected]

  Produced in the United States of America

  First Edition July 2020

  Kindle Edition

  Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.

  All Rights Reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  License Notes:

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook, once purchased, may not be re-sold. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it or borrow it, or it was not purchased for you and given as a gift for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. If this book was purchased on an unauthorized platform, then it is a pirated and/or unauthorized copy and violators will be prosecuted to the full extent of the law. Do not purchase or accept pirated copies. Thank you for respecting the author’s hard work. For subsidiary rights, contact Dragonblade Publishing, Inc.

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  Dearest Reader;

  Thank you for your support of a small press. At Dragonblade Publishing, we strive to bring you the highest quality Historical Romance from the some of the best authors in the business. Without your support, there is no ‘us’, so we sincerely hope you adore these stories and find some new favorite authors along the way.

  Happy Reading!

  CEO, Dragonblade Publishing

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author Mary Lancaster

  Season of Scandal Series

  Pursued by the Rake

  Abandoned to the Prodigal

  Married to the Rogue

  Unmasked by her Lover

  Imperial Season Series

  Vienna Waltz

  Vienna Woods

  Vienna Dawn

  Blackhaven Brides Series

  The Wicked Baron

  The Wicked Lady

  The Wicked Rebel

  The Wicked Husband

  The Wicked Marquis

  The Wicked Governess

  The Wicked Spy

  The Wicked Gypsy

  The Wicked Wife

  Wicked Christmas (A Novella)

  The Wicked Waif

  The Wicked Heir

  The Wicked Captain

  The Wicked Sister

  Unmarriageable Series

  The Deserted Heart

  The Sinister Heart

  The Vulgar Heart

  The Broken Heart

  The Weary Heart

  The Secret Heart

  Christmas Heart

  The Lyon’s Den Connected World

  Fed to the Lyon

  Also from Mary Lancaster

  Madeleine

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Publisher’s Note

  Additional Dragonblade books by Author Mary Lancaster

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  About Mary Lancaster

  Chapter One

  In the early morning sunlight, two young ladies hurried across Grosvenor Square. They kept their heads down and their faces hidden as best they could.

  At the corner of South Audley Street, they paused. The younger, Lady Juliet Lilbourne, glanced up for the briefest moment and surreptitiously gripped her companion’s hand.

  “Good luck,” she murmured.

  “And you. Take care, Juliet.”

  Their hands parted, and Juliet walked into South Audley Street. In spite of her hurry to be safe indoors, her feet seemed to drag. An ominous weight seemed to crush her whole being.

  About a quarter of the way down the street, she dared to look up again. At the house of her betrothed’s parents, a maid was scrubbing the front step, calling cheerfully to the girl performing the same service at the house next door. Keeping her face turned away from the neighbor’s servant, Juliet took the two steps to the open front door.

  “Oh, good morning, my lady,” the maid exclaimed, pulling her bucket out of the way. “I didn’t hear the carriage.”

  “Good morning, Sally,” Juliet murmured hastily and walked into the hall.

  From a room upstairs, she could hear the unmistakable tones of Lady Alford, her betrothed’s mother. She sounded agitated, as she often was, though Juliet could not make out the words. A low, soothing male voice attempted to calm her. From this distance, Juliet couldn’t tell if it was Lord Alford or his son. Though it was ridiculously early for any of them to be up and about.

  As she moved toward the stairs, regal footsteps approached from the back of the house.

  Juliet, remembering she still carried her valise, stopped and set it down.

  “Good morning,” the dignified butler, Johnson, intoned, treading across the hall. “We were not expecting your ladyship.”

  “No, my plans have suddenly changed. Could you ask Lady Alford to—”

  “Her ladyship,” Johnson interrupted, “is not at home.”

  Juliet blinked. She had just heard her ladyship’s voice and was about to point out Johnson’s mistake. And then the truth struck her like a blow.

  She was the Earl of Cosland’s daughter, beautiful, courted, and popular. No one had ever refused to receive her.

  Outraged, she held the butler’s relentless gaze. “When will her ladyship return?”

  “I could not say, madam.”

  “Guess,” Juliet commanded.

  Only by the faintest twitch did Johnson betray emotion. It looked like irritation. “If I were to guess, I would say not today.”

  “But that is ridiculous!” She had nowhere else to go. Her parents were at their Yorkshire estate. She had been staying with Lady Alford, who had always been kind and welcoming. And then she had been summoned unexpectedly to her duty as lady-in-waiting to the Princess of Wales. There was only one possible reason that things could have changed so drastically between yesterday evening and this morning.

  Lady Alford knew.

  And yet, how could she have learned so quickly?

  Panic surged. Lady Alford had been her best, her only hope to nip this scandal in the bud.

  “Johnson, I need to s
ee her ladyship,” she said intensely.

  “Perhaps if you were to write first.”

  From nowhere, a footman had appeared and picked up her valise. He pretended not to see her involuntary grab for it and walked with it toward the front door.

  They are throwing me out! Oh, dear God, what do I do now?

  In desperation, she threw her shoulders back and glared at Johnson. “Bring Mr. Catesby to me this instant, or I promise you, I shall scream so loudly it will wake the entire street. Then, you may explain that to your noble neighbors.”

  Johnson’s eye twitched again.

  “You have twenty seconds,” Juliet said.

  With the gesture of one finger, Johnson halted the footman’s progress and sent him scurrying for the stairs instead. Juliet stepped forward, picked up the valise, and walked into the reception room.

  “Thirteen seconds,” she observed mildly.

  But she was shaking with mortification. To be forced to threaten a kind hostess in such a vulgar way! But equally, to be condemned, unheard, as she was being… She had never imagined Lady Alford would treat her in such a way. But hopefully, Jeremy, Mr. Catesby, would be able to reach her when she had calmed down.

  She wasn’t truly counting and had no idea what she would do if she was simply left cooling her heels for hours in this bare, soulless room. But she did hear swift footsteps on the stairs, then hurrying across the hall. Jeremy strode into the room, his lips tight.

  He didn’t close the door, and when she started toward him instinctively, he actually raised his hand as though to ward her off.

  “What do you want, Juliet?” he asked coldly.

  She halted as though she had been slapped. “Want? Why are you treating me this way? What have you heard?”

  Only then did she see the newspaper in his hands. It wasn’t The Morning Post or the Gazette. He dropped it with some disgust on the table between them.

  Juliet stepped up to it, reached past the vase of fresh flowers, which stood at the center of the table, and lifted the newspaper.

  It seemed to be one of the scandal sheets she never read and never wished to. The lurid headline Orgy in C. Place caught her eye at once. And below it, words and phrases leapt from the page.

  Undaunted by the absence of either propriety or their royal mistress…Lady M.W., Lady J.L., Miss D.S., and Miss H.C. lurk in the midst of the night’s debauchery, where also were present vast quantities of finest wines and brandies… and several of London’s most prominent rakes.

  “Oh, dear God,” Juliet whispered, her hand flying to her cheek while the newspaper dropped back onto the table.

  “Dear God, indeed,” Jeremy said grimly. “What were you thinking of?”

  “Thinking of?” Juliet repeated, bewildered. “Of keeping out of the way, yet protecting Her Highness… Jeremy, you cannot believe this vile fustian? It is all lies!”

  “Then you were not at Connaught Place?” he snapped. “You certainly left here with every intention of going there. Or so you told my mother!”

  “Well, yes, I did, but—”

  “Then you deny any such party took place?” he said with contempt. “That any of these people were present?”

  Juliet whitened. “I… No, I cannot deny they were there, but you don’t understand!”

  “No, I don’t,” he agreed, swiping up the newspaper with one hand. “I’m glad I don’t. But I’m sure you will understand that any promises between us are broken and our engagement is therefore at an end. Goodbye. Johnson will see your ladyship out.”

  Her ears seemed to sing with the impossibility of this situation. The whole world was crashing in on her.

  “Jeremy, you can’t!” she pleaded. “You cannot so condemn me—”

  “You are condemned out of your own mouth,” he said shortly. “I would be grateful if you did not visit my mother again. She is no longer at home to you.”

  A quick spurt of anger was all that prevented her from curling up on the floor. “Do you imagine my father will not be offended by your treating me in such a way?”

  “That is exactly what I imagine. I’m afraid it’s you who has offended him, your entire family, and mine. Don’t make me call for footmen to speed your departure.”

  It was an empty threat. Probably. But that he would make it, shriveled her to the bone. “But…what will I do?” she said, thinking aloud. “Where can I go?”

  “Home. Go to Yorkshire.”

  “On the ten guineas I have in my purse?”

  He hesitated, then delved inside his well-made coat, and retrieved a large banknote which he held out to her. “Goodbye, Juliet,” he said firmly.

  A fresh spurt of anger saved her once more, bringing with it a moment’s pride that was probably foolish but all she had to counter the pain of his massive betrayal.

  She stared at the money in his hand, then slowly raised her gaze to his. “The trouble with you, Jeremy, is that beneath your smart coat and your expectations, you are simply not a gentleman.”

  She picked up her valise and walked past him and out the door, her head held high. As she crossed the hall, Johnson and the footman watched her go. A porter opened and closed the front door behind her, leaving her staring at the open-mouthed maid who had finished scrubbing the steps and stood gawping at her, brush in one hand and bucket in the other.

  Juliet would have liked to carry on, stalking up South Audley Street with purpose. But she had no purpose. She thought briefly about going to Lady Meg in Grosvenor Square, but Meg’s father, the duke, would not welcome her either. And Meg would have her own troubles if her family had read that disgusting rag which had clearly roused the entire Alford household at such an unprecedented hour.

  “Sally,” she said slowly, “where would one find a mail coach or even a stagecoach to Yorkshire?”

  “The Swan with Two Necks in Cheapside?” Sally said doubtfully. “Or maybe the Golden Cross—the inn at Charing Cross—would be best.”

  “You are probably right.” With a friendly nod, Juliet walked down the steps and set off along the road.

  *

  Juliet had never taken a public conveyance in her life and had no idea how to go about it. And by the time she had walked to Charing Cross and found the Golden Cross Inn, she felt unaccustomedly exhausted. Her legs and feet felt numb, and she wanted to cry.

  It had never entered her head that Jeremey would not stand by her, would not believe her, would not even listen to her. He had simply dropped her like a burning coal without a second thought. This man she had meant to marry and live with for the rest of her life. The man who had made her such exquisite speeches of devotion.

  What utter lies! And now my heart is broken along with the rest of my life…

  The inn was heaving with people and vehicles. Close by, people were bundling into a coach laden with luggage. Others were climbing up on to the outside seats and onto the roof. Everyone around the yard seemed to be in a hurry, striding about purposefully, bearing boxes and trunks, leading horses, harnessing carts, or shouting instructions or ribald remarks she didn’t understand. Delicious cooking smells drifting out of the inn made her stomach rumble.

  In the midst of the bustle sat a sleek, black cat, elegantly cleaning itself. Everyone, even men carrying heavy loads, who probably couldn’t even see the animal properly, walked around it. Oblivious, the cat carried on washing its face.

  On what appeared to the taproom step, a man sat eating a pie with some gusto, until Juliet approached, and he jumped to his feet. The pie vanished into the pocket of his long coat, and he snatched off his slightly greasy-looking hat.

  “Help you, ma’am? Head porter at your service. Let me carry your bag.”

  “Thank you,” Juliet replied gratefully. “I wish to go to York, or at least as close to Kidfield as I can. Is there a coach today?”

  The porter scratched his head, “No room on that one,” he said, nodding toward the laden coach, which was about to leave. “It’s the mail. But there may be space on the later
stagecoach. It’s slower but does stop at Kidfield.”

  “Oh, that would be ideal,” Juliet said in relief. “What time would that be?”

  “Eleven o’clock. Let me see what I can—”

  A sudden bark seemed to split Juliet’s ears, cutting the porter off. In the same instant, a huge, hairy creature bounded from nowhere across her line of vision, directly at the black cat she’d noticed earlier. People scattered in all directions, dropping loads and bumping into each other.

  With an angry squeal, the cat sprang up without apparent hurry onto the balcony wall on the first floor. There it resumed its ablutions while the hairy creature, who appeared to be an extremely large dog, tried to jump after it, landing instead on the porter who staggered under the sudden weight.

  “Get away, you cur!” he growled, roughly shoving the animal off.

  The dog, however, wagged its tail, immediately losing interest in the cat in favor of the porter’s coat pocket. The porter clapped his hand over it, protecting his half-eaten pie from the intrusive snout.

  “Get away!” the porter yelled, shoving the dog’s head with unnecessary force. He even raised his boot and kicked out, catching the dog a glancing blow on the ribs.

  Juliet had seen enough. Barging past the man, she stood in front of the now-wary dog, who was clearly not willing to give up on his pie prospects just yet.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she raged. “How dare you hurt your poor dog! If you just fed him…”

  “He ain’t my dog,” the porter said aggressively. “What would I want with a great beast like that eating me out of house and home? And if he don’t want to be kicked, he should stay out of my pockets!”

  “Brute!” Juliet exclaimed. Even then, she was aware her anger was not entirely on behalf of the dog, who didn’t seem unduly upset by his treatment. The rest was her own emotion boiling to the surface.

  The porter started toward her, clearly trying to intimidate her. Fury spat from his eyes, and his lips twisted. She glared back, while the dog stuck his hairy head under her hand and growled low in his throat.

  The porter made a threatening gesture with his raised boot, presumably aimed at the dog, although it was unlikely he could kick it without hurting Juliet, too.