Lady No Says Yes Read online

  Lady No Says Yes

  (The Scandal Sheet Book 3)

  By

  USA Today Bestseller

  Jess Michaels

  LADY NO SAYS YES

  The Scandal Sheet Book 3

  Copyright © Jesse Petersen, 2019

  ISBN: 9781947770140

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  For more information, contact Jess Michaels

  www.AuthorJessMichaels.com

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  Email: [email protected]

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  Dedication

  To Michael, my forever YES.

  Chapter One

  All in Society are well-aware of the famous—or is it infamous?—Lady No. Despite her station in life, her generous dowry and the expectations of her family, the young woman refuses any man who dares cross her path. Kindly, yes, but firmly. The lady seems determined to enter into spinsterhood. Will this new Season finally be the one to see Lady No meet her match? Only time will tell. But if not, one wonders if the shine will eventually wear off her diamond, leaving her to regret the chances she did not take.

  As her aunt Louisa read the latest Scandal Sheet out loud, Lady Sophie couldn’t help but laugh. Her aunt lifted her gaze with a smirk of her own.

  “Well, there you have it,” Louisa said, folding the paper. “You are famous. Or infamous.”

  Sophie shook her head and teased, “Me? Are you saying you think Lady No is me?”

  “Oh come, don’t play coy even in jest. You know they call you Lady No behind your back. It could be no one else but you,” Louisa said.

  Sophie’s laughter faded and she glanced at the folded sheet before her aunt. She could only read a few words now, but Lady No stood out amongst them all. It was her not-very-secret nickname, though she’d never felt it was said in cruelty. She was an oddity in Society, to be certain, but she was liked well enough. She had friends, and the gentlemen who she refused were, on the whole, good-natured about it. She was always kind in her set downs.

  “I’m not really certain why it fascinates them so, my refusals. I simply haven’t found something worth saying yes to. Shouldn’t I wait to say yes until I find something worthwhile?”

  Louisa had been smiling along with her, but now her face fell a fraction. “Of course. I’ve been your guardian for how long now?”

  “Nearly fifteen years,” Sophie said softly, carefully not allowing her thoughts to turn to her long-dead parents. “And you have been the best guardian one could hope for.”

  Louisa smiled briefly and reached out to take Sophie’s hand. “Well, I’ve always been proud to see that you have your own mind. And I think you are correct that you should not accept anyone into your life who doesn’t appreciate that wonderful quality about you.”

  Sophie tilted her head. “I sense a however coming.”

  Louisa laughed. “You know me too well. However, I wonder at your methods, my dear. It isn’t just that you have refused any marriage proposal that has come your way. You refuse everything else, too. How long has it been since you took a walk with a young man? Or danced? Or paired for a hand of cards?”

  Sophie pursed her lips. She hated to admit her aunt was right, but she was. It had been many a year since she had done any of those things. Since her first season, and that was nearly four years before.

  “They only want me for my money,” she said. That was true. There were other things that kept her saying no, too, but she wouldn’t think about speaking them out loud. They only caused pain for both her and her aunt. Only made her think about topics best left unexplored.

  Louisa shook her head. “I’m not certain you know that for a fact. You say you haven’t found anything worthwhile to say yes to, but you haven’t really allowed anyone to prove their worth to you, have you?”

  Sophie sighed. “Perhaps,” she said through clenched teeth.

  Louisa laughed again, softening the suddenly serious mood between them. “You inherited your stubborn streak from me, I fear. But are you ready to accept that your actions may do exactly as this little story implies and leave you a spinster?”

  Sophie pushed back from the breakfast table, smoothing her hands over the skirt of her gown as she did so. Her breath suddenly felt short and her heart was pounding. But not because she feared the ultimate end her aunt described. Certainly not.

  “You know, I have never seen being a spinster as such a terrible thing,” she said slowly. “After all, you never wed and you are well-loved by all who know you. Is it such a terrible end?”

  To her surprise, Louisa’s expression flickered briefly with a pain Sophie had never seen before. A regret very much like that which had been described in the Scandal Sheet paper. Sophie couldn’t believe she was seeing it, for her aunt had always seemed so cheerful about her life.

  Louisa pushed her plate aside and leaned an elbow on the table for a moment before she spoke. “I, like you, was afforded a great deal of freedom and independence. After seeing what your mother…endured, my father vowed that I would not be forced into a marriage.”

  Sophie winced, once again trying not to let memories of her parents flood her mind. Trying to pretend that their life together, and their death together, wasn’t so strong an influence on her own decisions.

  “I loved him for that,” Louisa continued, tears filling her eyes. “But my choices have had consequences, alongside their advantages. I adore you, my love, and I think of you much as my own daughter, but I have never borne a child. I have never felt the warmth of a husband’s touch. I am, in many ways, alone.”

  Sophie caught her breath. “You are speaking of the very regret the paper mentions.”

  Louisa nodded. “I don’t express it, for what would be the point? But certainly I sometimes regret that I didn’t take a different path. And I would hate to see you feel that same thing, my love. Even if it is rare and fleeting, it is painful.”

  With a shuddering sigh, Sophie turned and walked to the window. As she looked down onto her aunt’s pretty garden below, anxiety washed over her in waves. She drew a few long breaths to quell it and then whispered, “Well, what would you have me do, Aunt Louisa?”

  Her aunt held up the paper they’d been reading from together. “As this rag says, the new Season is just beginning. A fresh start. I would challenge you to say yes.”

  “Say yes?” Sophie repeated, pivoting on her aunt with a gasp. “What are you talking about?”

  “Say yes to every opportunity put on your path,” Louisa encouraged. Sophie’s face must have reflected the horror those words instilled in her, for her aunt shook her head swiftly. “Within reason, of course. No one is suggesting you run off to do something wicked or that you accept any marriage proposals you are offered. I am simply talking about saying yes to those things you’ve avoided. Dance. Play. Walk. Go riding in the park. Not all your experiences will be filled with pleasure, I’m sure, but you may be surprised that some of them will not be as terrible as you expect.”

  Sophie clenched her hands in front of her. She could hardly imagine doing what her aunt had suggested. It sounded terrifying, when she was honest with herself. She would open herself up. That meant she could be hurt.

  And she didn’t want that.

  “I don’t know,” she breathed.

  Louisa pushed to her feet at last and moved toward her.
Her warm arms came around Sophie, and she squeezed gently. “I won’t force you, Sophie. I would never do that. But I’m asking you to do this for me. Then if you decide to take the same path I have, at least I’ll be comfortable in the knowledge that you gave yourself every chance to understand what you might give up.”

  Sophie sighed. If Louisa saw her as a daughter, she very much loved her aunt as a mother. And Louisa so rarely asked anything of her, and had kindly accepted her quirks over the years. To refuse her seemed the height of bad behavior. Besides, it was only a Season. She would please her aunt and have some good stories to tell in the end.

  She didn’t have to change her mind about the ultimate path of her future, after all.

  “Very well,” she said with a shuddering exhalation. “I will do as you ask, Aunt Louisa. I’ll say yes for a Season.”

  Louisa’s face lit up, and it was all the reward Sophie ever could have asked for.

  “Oh, Sophie, I’m so pleased!” Louisa practically danced away and she snatched up the Scandal Sheet from the table as she moved toward the exit.

  “What are you doing with that?” Sophie said with a laugh at her aunt’s giddiness, even if the cause made her nervous.

  “I’m saving this,” Louisa explained. “In the hopes that when the Season is over, we’ll look back on this moment as a turning point in your life, my love. No matter what comes out of your agreement to say yes.”

  Sophie watched with a smile as she left the room, paper in hand, but the expression fell when she was alone. Her decision to say no to everything had been one she made purposefully. Giving it up was a terrifying thought. As was the idea that saying yes might change her life forever.

  Chapter Two

  The Honorable Rowan Sinclair, third son of the Earl of Terrington, was in a foul mood as he stood in the study that had, up until six months before, been his father’s. Now that the official mourning period was over, his eldest brother, Alistair, had thrown himself fully into taking over. Including redecorating what had once been a warm and welcoming room and making it into a spectacle of showiness.

  “You hardly wait a moment, do you?” Rowan growled, slugging back his glass of scotch in one gulp and eliciting a glare from both Alistair and their middle brother, Keaton. Alistair and Keaton had the same mother, the late earl’s first wife, and looked very much alike. Rowan’s mother was the second wife, the beloved wife, and he was dark where his brothers were light.

  They hated him for it.

  “I have no idea what you mean,” Alistair sniffed as he swirled his own scotch in his tumbler.

  “A ball?” Rowan sneered. “Six months to the day of Father’s death?”

  Keaton snorted as he paced to the window. “You are a sentimental fool, Rowan. The mourning period is over—why shouldn’t Alistair hold a ball to welcome the new Season and celebrate his ascension to the title?”

  “I’ve waited long enough,” Alistair muttered.

  Rowan set his jaw. His older brothers were older than him by almost two decades, nearly into their fifties. He supposed Alistair did feel like he’d waited long enough for his due. But the fact that neither seemed to feel anything for the man Rowan had loved so deeply made his stomach turn. He wanted to touch the black band he still wore to honor the late earl, but resisted. It felt like showing weakness to wolves.

  “As much as I know you asked me here to keep up appearances, I’m certain there is more to it than merely having me take part in your celebrations,” Rowan said. “So what is it you want, Alistair?”

  Alistair stopped swirling his drink and exchanged a look with Keaton that made Rowan’s back stiffen. They seemed so very smug.

  “I have spent the past six months going over Father’s finances,” Keaton said. “On behalf of our brother.”

  Rowan let out a snort. “Ever the bootlicker you are, Keaton.”

  Keaton’s face darkened to a deep plum and his fists tightened at his sides. “Watch yourself, boy.”

  Rowan shrugged. “So you’ve been going over the finances. What does that have to do with me?”

  Alistair arched a brow. “You think we don’t know about the allowance Father gave you each month? It’s how you live, isn’t it?”

  Now it was Rowan’s turn to stiffen. His father gave him an allowance to help support his aspirations as a painter. His brothers didn’t know that. No one did.

  “That allowance is not something you can touch,” he said. “It is a gift of inheritance by the earl. He told me many times it could not be altered.”

  Alistair grinned wider. “We thought so, too, for in the last years of his life Father made many changes to his documents to ensure you and your mother would be protected. But Keaton’s digging uncovered a bit of wording tied to the inheritance that had not been changed, buried in a document from years ago. You see, Father originally wrote it that the allowance would be continued at the earl’s pleasure. I am the earl now. It is at my pleasure, Rowan.”

  Rowan’s stomach turned. “That isn’t possible.”

  “But it is,” Keaton said with a smirk. “Feel free to take what we’ve found to a solicitor. I’ll provide you with a copy of the will if you’d like. It is written that way, Rowan.”

  “And my pleasure is to cut you off,” Alistair continued, rising from his seat with a great deal of drama. “Today.”

  Rowan swung a little on his feet as the words sank in. Perhaps he could take this to court, but he knew his brothers. They were meticulous men and likely would not have come to this moment if they weren’t entirely certain of their position. Which meant Alistair had every right to cut him off.

  And destroy his world.

  “How could you?” he said softly. “Why would you do that? It isn’t as if it’s some great amount.”

  Alistair’s smug smile faltered and there was a flash of anger that replaced it. “You think you’re owed something by the estate? You are not. You and your mother are interlopers who have suckled at the teat of this family for decades. I may not be able to keep her from collecting her inheritance, but by God, I will not support a man who does nothing and expects to be paid for the privilege. You may be my father’s son, but I see you as little more than a by-blow, only barely made legitimate by an imprudent marriage.”

  Rage rose in Rowan, rage he fought desperately to tamp down. “I doubt Father would have seen it that way. He loved my mother and he loved me, and that has always rubbed under your skin. So your punishment is to ignore the earl’s wishes. Good show, Alistair. You do him proud.”

  Keaton had the decency to flinch, but Alistair merely shrugged. “Unlike you, Rowan, I never gave a damn about Father’s love or good graces. If the bastard rolls in his grave over what I’ve done, then that’s merely a bonus.”

  He shook his head as he came around the large desk that had once been their father’s. It was loaded with ridiculous trinkets now. A little gold statue of a ram, a ridiculously oversized mother-of-pearl tea caddy, a tortoiseshell snuffbox. Disjointed and ill-matched proof that Alistair held the power and would use it to his own ends.

  Alistair sank into the leather seat and flicked his hand toward Rowan. “You are dismissed.”

  Rowan stared from one brother to the other, ignoring the pain that rose up in his chest. The hate that burned as brightly for them as theirs did for him. Slowly, he turned and walked from the room, closing the door with barely a click so they wouldn’t have the satisfaction of his emotional response.

  But oh, there was a response. Rowan knew what his financial situation was. Without his father’s support, he had very little funds. His art had not quite taken off, though he did have a few patrons who purchased his pieces. Still, it wasn’t enough to live on, especially if he were to carry on the lifestyle he had been leading. The one that led him to those patrons.

  “Shit,” he muttered as he strode down the hallway and out into the foyer. He had every intention of leaving, but before he could, the sound of his name came from the hallway.

  “T
here you are, Sinclair. Christ, you were in there an age. How did it go?”

  He turned, trying to keep a bright expression to his face, and smiled at his longtime friend, Percival Clement. They’d gone to school together, and Percy knew a little about his strained relationship with his brothers. That was the reason he’d asked his friend to accompany him to this ridiculous party tonight. Something he’d all but forgotten in his upset.

  “It was fine,” he managed through clenched teeth.

  Percy’s eyebrows lifted. “That bad, eh? What did old Alistair want then?”

  “It’s a long story,” Rowan sighed. “And not one I care to discuss at the moment. Let’s just go.”

  Percy caught his arm and all but dragged him toward the ballroom instead of the bliss of escape that Rowan desired. “Oh no we aren’t. What better way to get back at those pricks than to eat their food and drink their wine and have a good time at their expense?”

  Normally Percy’s suggestion would have made Rowan laugh, but he had none of that left in him tonight. “I may have to pretend a good time,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ll have to endure my poor company.”

  Percy slung an arm around him as they entered the ballroom. “I always do, friend,” he teased. “Now stand there looking mysterious so that the ladies all titter behind their fans, and I’ll go get us drinks.”

  As he slipped into the crowd, Rowan backed up against the wall. Right now the last thing he wanted was to be spoken to or approached. Still, he wasn’t about to just abandon his friend. Percy was trying his best to lift his spirits.

  As he waited Percy’s return, he scanned the room. It was a crush, of course. Alistair would have accepted nothing less. He was going to show off his new position and the money that came with it to as many people as he could. Society’s favorite gentlemen and ladies milled about in the ballroom, dressed in their finery, enjoying the music. And none of them even thought of Rowan’s father anymore.