Once Upon a Scandal. Delilah Marvelle
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brows rose as a large, bearded man, dressed in wool riding clothes, veered into the dining hall from the servant’s corridor.
Oh, dear God. Who was this?
She scrambled back.
Grayson’s chair screeched across the floor as he jumped to his feet. “What the hell is this? Uncle, who is this man?”
The earl turned and gestured obligingly. “I am most fortunate to have fine, devoted servants. They assisted me in securing a very special service few can afford. This gentleman here will be escorting me to my own virgin. ‘Tis my hope that by the end of this night, I will at long last be cured.”
Victoria gasped. The servants had assisted her father in securing this man, thinking that such vile, superstitious rubbish about lying with a virgin might cure him? Though she supposed her own insistence on serving her father peacock had most likely encouraged the servants to think outside of traditional means.
Grayson jogged toward them and jumped between her and the advancing tough, who was eyeing her appreciatively. Pushing her farther back with his own body, Grayson announced curtly over his shoulder, “Victoria, you will retire. Now. Go. I will oversee this.”
She sighed. “I am not leaving. And there is only one way to oversee this.” She leaned around her cousin, peering at the man. “Sir? I will triple whatever his lordship is offering in return for your departure. Understand that he is very ill and unaware of what he is doing.”
The earl snorted. “I am attempting to prolong my life is what I am doing. Now you.” He pointed at the large tough and then pointed at Grayson. “Give this nephew of mine a good fist for interfering with my business and I will ensure you get an additional ten pounds. Fifty if you do it right.”
“Yes, milord!” The man jumped forward and swung a large, gloved fist at Grayson.
Victoria gasped as she and her cousin dodged and darted off to the side. Grayson snatched up a chair, swinging it up high above his shoulder, ready to let it fly. “Victoria, get the bloody servants! Now!”
Victoria dashed past, knowing the situation had indeed gotten out of hand.
“Camille!” her father shouted pleadingly after her. “I vow upon my honor I would never have let him harm you!”
She wasn’t worried about herself. She was worried about Grayson, whose head was now officially worth fifty pounds, thanks to her father. Flint suddenly dashed past her and into the dining hall, barking viciously, adding to the chaos as more shouts echoed down the corridor. She skidded out into the hallway, knowing that if there was anyone who could take on a tough until all the servants arrived, it was Grayson who spent most of his time boxing at Jackson’s.
The crash of porcelain shattering against the floor exploded in the distance like thunder. She winced as she snapped toward the direction of the servants’ quarters. “Assistance is required in the dining hall!” she screamed, her voice echoing all around her. “In the dining hall! At once! Hurry!”
Within moments, a group of male servants dashed past her and down the corridor, sprinting out of sight into the dining hall. Victoria gathered her skirts, turned and dashed after them.
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