An Invitation to Scandal Read Online Free Page A

did not want her for conversation. He needed an heir, and as his last two wives had failed in that respect, he hoped a third would prove the charm.
    A shudder coursed through her at the mere thought of what that entailed. Papery thin hands touching her bare skin; his aging body covering hers, pushing his withered manhood into her.
    Bile roiled in her stomach and threatened to rage upward.
    She was not a prude. She knew what went on between a man and woman. She and Caelie had spent enough time eavesdropping on the maids to have a proper idea of the mechanics involved. Unfortunately, Abigail did not share the maids’ exuberance over the act when she thought of her betrothed.
    If only things could be different. Just once she wanted to experience that kind of giddy enthusiasm before she must play the part of the dutiful wife, her independence stripped away and along with it any hope for love. Was there a more tragic circumstance than to live out one’s life never experiencing true love or passion? She could not think of one.
    She’d had the chance once, or so she thought. But Lord Roxton’s interest had cooled, and he’d dropped his suit. Abigail had fretted for months. Had she done something to turn him away? Yes, he’d always been a bit of a rake, but no more than most young men his age and she’d been certain he was worth reforming, that he wanted to be reformed. What a fool she’d been! Without warning, he had turned his attentions away from her and toward Uncle Henry’s mistress. She had watched helplessly as he went from a rake to a reprobate. He had changed from the man she knew. Or at least from the man she’d thought she knew. His sudden rejection still stung, but better she had learned of his true nature earlier, rather than later.
    Perhaps the sting would have faded away in time, if Lord Roxton hadn’t re-entered their lives, but he had. And thanks to his callous actions and the scandal that ensued, her choices in the marriage mart had disappeared like a wisp of smoke caught on the wind. Now, instead of entering a marriage based on affection, she must make the best match she could to keep her family afloat.
    Heaviness settled upon her shoulders. Abigail placed Lord Tarrington’s letter back on the plate and rummaged through the others. Was there not even one measly invitation? In the last week only Lord and Lady Doddington had dared to issue an invite to their masquerade one week hence, though it was clear in the note sent to Mother that they did so only due to their familial connection with Aunt Edythe. When one read between the lines, it became evident they expected their invite to be declined. The insinuation had been enough to anger Mother, who had quickly sent back their acceptance instead.
    The impending masquerade notwithstanding, it would have been nice to receive a genuine invitation where the people issuing it actually wanted you to attend. Abigail let out a short breath. How long must they put up with this shunning?
    Her fingers bumped against something cool and hard. Feeling around for the object buried beneath the letters, she pulled out a shiny skeleton key with an ornately designed head. Attached to the head was a length of red velvet ribbon, and at the end of that, a vellum tag.
    Abigail’s hand shook as she turned the tag over. On it, written in a clear script, was an address, date and time. Nothing else.
    But she didn’t need anything else. She recognized the key immediately. She had seen it once before. It had come for Uncle Henry, though at the time, she did not understand what it represented. She could no longer make such a claim.
    The key was an invitation. But not just any invitation. This one provided entry to one of the most scandalous parties of the demimonde, hosted by none other than Opal St. Augustine, her uncle’s former mistress.
    She shook her head. She had loved Uncle Henry dearly. He had been warm and affectionate and filled with life—the exact opposite of his cold and