Scandal’s Daughter (Rogues and Gentlemen #3)

Prologue

To Sebastian Grenville, newly The Duke of Sindalton, this year had been the most miserable and painful of his short life.

A life that had now been subject to further upheaval by getting sent away from his home to school at Eton.

At twelve years old he had lost his charismatic father in a scandal that had rocked the ton to their foundations; and now everything he knew, everything that was dear to him and familiar, was gone.

That was bad enough but coming from a home where he was cherished and feted as the heir to the dukedom to a cold and unwelcoming place, was almost more than he could bear. He was regarded with a mixture of appalled awe and disgust in the light of his father’s actions.

A previously loquacious and confident boy, in a matter of months he had turned inward, lost a vast amount of weight - making him gangly and awkward - and most mortifying of all, developed a stutter.

The bullying had been as inevitable as it was terrifying, and it was with a resigned and fateful air he watched Lord Robert ‘Boko’ Bexley’s fat fist swing back to ‘draw his cork’ with a fateful punch.

The hand trembled in mid-air for a brief moment before losing its momentum, but this was curious rather than relieving to one who had lost any interest in life or the effort of living it.

It was also strange to see the dawning look of anxiety on Boko Bexley’s face, as a bored and cut-glass voice drawled behind him, “I really shouldn’t do that if I were you. ”

Boko was a ruddy faced, square-jawed boy who naturally excelled at sports but could barely add two and two without the help of his blunt, stubby digits.

That being the case, coming face to face with the deadliest tongue in the entire school was not something the little Lord entered into lightly.

The Marquess of Beaumont was also in his first year, but his fame had already been established long before he set foot on Eton’s hallowed grounds.

His reputation was that of having a fast pair of fists and a way with words that could shred a boy many years older to devastating effect.

Sebastian turned his head, which was not as easy as it sounded with Boko’s meaty left hand wrapped around his throat, while his face awaited the attentions of his right.

Although he’d heard of the marquess, as had the whole damn school, this was the first time Sebastian had laid eyes on him.

His own dark brown eyes met those of a startling, if rather icy, blue.

A mop of thick blond hair crowned the most angelic face that had ever graced the visage of a twelve-year-old boy.

“This is none of your affair, Beau,” Boko said, his voice full of righteous indignation and just the hint of a whine.

“Not so,” Beau replied, his demeanour one of someone bearing bad news.

“You see, I’ve decided it is, and so ...

there you have it.” The angelic countenance confronted Boko’s scowling, mulish expression as Beau gave an apologetic shrug, apologetic because the only way for Boko to save face was to fight Beau.

Ten minutes later and Boko was being supported by his cronies as he stemmed the tide of a very bloody nose.

“M-much obliged to you,” stammered Sebastian, looking at his strange angel-faced saviour with something close to awe. “Though I don’t understand w-why you s-should help me.”

A slight frown creased the saintly mien and the marquess gave a shrug.

“Neither do I,” he replied. “I tend to act on a whim now and then, devil knows why.” He grinned suddenly and Sebastian could see a lot more of the devil in his laughing eyes than the angel that innocent face might imply.

“Besides,” he added. “I was interested to meet someone whose father was as much a black-hearted scoundrel as mine still is.”

Sebastian gaped at him, unsure whether to be furious at the insult to his late father or shocked and impressed that he should speak of his own in such an insulting manner.

He was saved from the trouble of figuring it out as Beau spoke again, amused by his dumbfounded expression.

“Oh, come on. You’re not going to tell me that if your father appeared to you from beyond the veil you wouldn’t have a few choice words for him? ”

“W-well ... no,” Sebastian replied somewhat doubtfully. Further discussion was halted, however, as the bell intoned sonorously over the quad.

“Good God!” Beau exclaimed. “We’re going to miss breakfast. Come on, I’m starving.” And grasping Sebastian firmly by the hand he towed his new friend behind him, back into the school.