Three Times the Scandal (Georgian Rakehells)

by Madelynne Ellis

  The thought of him and how he’d been so certain of her eventual defeat caused her to lift her chin in defiance, but she couldn’t keep it up. Most of her life she had been dutiful and acquiescent. She’d pleaded for things before, but never before had she reached such a standoff. The tension seemed to claw at her skin like a thousand tiny pinpricks, until a single word formed upon her lips, “Please.”

  Triumph shone in her mother’s eyes. She didn’t respond, but instead gathered her other daughters to her skirts. “We’ll away home now, girls.”

  “Oh, but surely not. It’s far too early to steal away so many charming dance partners.” The lazy male drawl met her mother’s brittle triumph and broadsided it into fragments. Mrs. Allenthorpe stiffened; she turned and blinked up into the face of their host’s eldest son, who stood within two inches of her person, exquisitely poised, right down to the glint of pure wickedness in his dove-grey eyes.

  “Lord Darleston, I’m afraid we must,” Mrs. Allenthorpe gaze fastened upon the rich velvet of his coat.

  “No, no. Neddy and I quite insist upon your company.” His drawl grew evermore sinful, as he drew his brother closer.

  Something about that drawl wakened both memories and feelings Fortuna had fought hard to repress. The Darleston twins had been at Pennerley too, and she just knew, just knew that Giles Dovecote was behind their strategic appearance. It was as if she’d danced with the Devil the night of Lord Pennerley’s phantasmagoria and now his servants were rallying to help her out of the sticky situation the good folks around her thought for her best. The realization that she might have an ally or two reawakened the butterflies that had earlier troubled her stomach. Fortuna nervously folded her arms across her chest and pressed her closed fan to her lips.

  Meanwhile, Mrs. Allenthorpe raised her fan as a barrier, while her gaze darted nervously between the two men.

  “I think I must insist upon this dance.” Darleston clasped the hand that held the fan, rendering Mrs. Allenthorpe open-mouthed and speechless. With a gentle tug he led her onto the dance floor.

  “Miss Alicia Allenthorpe.” Neddy extended his hand and then led Alicia away too. Fortuna watched them as they glided across the floor. Her sister had always been light on her feet, and Neddy’s movements seemed to complement Alicia’s perfectly. Meanwhile, the stiffness in her mother’s back had gone. She gazed up at the earl’s son in mystified delight. No doubt she’d be crowing to her friends later about how he’d specifically sought her out.

  As they continued to spin and turn, Fortuna’s gaze wandered to the edges of the room seeking out some sign of Dovecote’s presence. If I had any courage, I should run, she thought, glancing at each of her three remaining sisters, none of whom would stop her if she excused herself. But where would she go? She had no idea where Dovecote lived and he was her only ally in this.

  Darleston returned her mother to the group, and breathless, the older lady sank onto the chaise, rapidly fanning her cherry-blossom pink cheeks. “Well, really,” she declared, but made no protest when Darleston turned to Fortuna for the next dance, and Neddy to Patience.

  “Is our ruse working, do you think?” Darleston asked, as they swirled by the edge of the dance floor. Fortuna noticed that though he worked with the flow of the dancers they were drawing inexorably further from where her mother sat.

  “I confess I cannot wholly fathom what you’re about.” She sucked upon her bottom lip. Darleston twirled her beneath his raised arm and they came together again, joining a group of six other dancers, to bow, curtsey and then move on.

  “Then let me explain. The purpose is threefold. Firstly, as a means of distraction, while your mother settles her heart palpitations, I’m free to lead you astray. Secondly, that I do lead you astray.” He suddenly pulled her into the crowd bordering the dance floor.

  “And thirdly?”

  Darleston’s smile was wicked and slow. “Later, Miss Allenthorpe. Later.” He drew a finger across his lips, then pressed the same to hers, leaving behind the taste of him, like an imprint. “I’ll bid you good night. I believe you’ll find the required restroom behind you.” He bowed, and swiftly departed.

  Fortuna turned around to find not the restroom but the glass doors onto the summer parlour.

  Dovecote. His name sang in her heart. Had he returned to the drainpipe after she’d left the frosty terrace?

  She gave one last look at the ballroom. She could just make out Darleston’s back, a glib lie regarding her whereabouts no doubt already upon his tongue. She turned the door handle and let herself in. “Where are you?”

  Dovecote emerged from behind one of the huge yellow drapes that huge like bands of frozen sunlight across the windows. “Here.” He took her hand and looked deep into her eyes.

  “I thought you’d gone,” she said.

  “I had, but I confess to a sudden fit of gallantry. Shall we attempt that descent into the night again? You will come with me, won’t you, Fortuna? You know what I offer is better than a life with Sir Hector.” He led her back out onto the frosty terrace. The earlier flurry of snow had stilled, and now stars peeped down at them from a clear sky. The rime on the flags sparkled as he helped her mount the balustrade. “You can’t seriously expect me to shimmy down a drainpipe?”

  Dovecote slid his hands up to her elbows. “Of course not, I’ve arranged a ladder.”

  Fortuna clapped her hands together as her anxieties gave way to mirth. She guessed from the way his brow crumpled that she sounded hysterical, so she took several deep breaths. “This is madness. I’ve no clothes, no money and no promises from you.”

  “You have one. My protection.”

  She considered slowly, her stubborn chin raised. “Somehow I don’t think that means quite the same thing coming from you as it does from other men.”

  “No one will know where you’ve gone. There’ll be no immediate risk to your reputation. Now, will you come? Are you ready to take charge of your own destiny?”

  Take charge! As if it could be that simple.

  “There’s a carriage waiting, and I suspect you’re running out of sisters.” Yes, the strains of another melody were starting up. The twins would have danced with them all by now. In a moment, her mother would notice her absence and start a search of her.

  “I’m ready.”

  Giles helped her onto the top rung of the ladder, descending before her so as to make sure she didn’t fall. Once on the ground, he took her hand again and they snuck around the side of the building. His carriage stood upon the driveway, the driver ready with the team of four.

  Giles lifted her into the belly of the landau. “Be at ease. I’ll soon follow.” He closed the door. The carriage lurched forward immediately, throwing her off balance. Fortuna dropped into one of the seats. Through the narrow window she could just make out his receding figure. He raised a hand, waved, then melted into the foliage at the side of the building. He was going to dispose of the ladder, she supposed.

  Fortuna shivered and settled amongst the squabs. What mischief had she got herself into? She had to admit she felt a certain amount of glee over her escape, though what came next concerned her a little. The kiss he’d stolen earlier would surely soon be the first of many. He’d expect some reward for his assistance.

  When the carriage rumbled to a halt again, Fortuna looked out and realized, they’d merely turned a lap of the house, and now rested a little to its rear on the edge of the gore. Seconds later the door opened, and not one, but three men climbed in.

  Dovecote settled beside her, whilst the Darleston twins sprawled opposite. Fortuna eyed them curiously, somewhat wary. Running away with one man was foolhardy enough, but travelling alone with three...

  “Your sister is an unbelievable minx,” laughed Neddy. He stretched his long legs out before him and rubbed a hand across his loins. “I swear she’s just given me a stiff the length of a yardstick.”

  “And in your case that’s not an exaggeration,” remarked his brother. Darleston winked at her.
“I did promise you we’d meet again.”

  Fortuna gaped at them. She didn’t need to ask which sister they were referring to with their crudities. Mae. The others wouldn’t dare be so forward.

  “Ah, but the night’s young yet,” Darleston clapped a hand on his brother’s knee. “I’m sure you’ll find sport enough to entertain you yet.” He leaned forward, and held a dark bundle out to Fortuna. “We wouldn’t want you to freeze on the journey now, would we?”

  Fortuna unfolded the thick cloak, and Dovecote helped cast it about her shoulders, where it settled in deep shimmery maroon folds. The pile was deceptively thick and quickly drew the chill from her body. “To whom does this belong?” she asked.

  “It’s mine.” The carriage door swung open again, and a fourth figure climbed into the carriage. Seeing that there was no room to sit, the woman, whom Fortuna didn’t recognise, perched upon Darleston’s knee. “And I should very much like it back when we get to wherever it is these rogues are taking you.” Currently, the woman wore a long woollen pelisse, fastened at the front and decorated like a hussar’s jacket with rows of white braiding and spherical gold buttons. She shivered slightly. “Where are we going?”

  Darleston tipped her off his knee and into his brother’s lap. “Nowhere you were invited to, my darling wife.”

  Chapter Three

  Fortuna’s first thought on seeing the white stone façade of Dovecote’s townhouse was that it had seen a woman’s touch. There were traces of her presence scattered through the hall and drawing room—curiously feminine ornaments, embroidered pictures and a scrapbook of pressed flowers displayed upon the sideboard, but no obvious indication of who she was, and no overt sense that she was still here. It was as if she had simply vanished.

  Since Fortuna was used to the clutter of a large family, the drawing room seemed both cavernous and empty with only the five of them huddled around the fireplace. She and Lady Darleston sipped cups of tea provided by Dovecote’s bristly, if efficient man. This was not at all what she’d expected. She was under no illusion that she’d run into the night with three wolves, who given the opportunity would probably devour her. Curiously, the prospect of that happening didn’t frighten her. It intrigued her more than anything, but they all seemed too reluctant to act, their gazes constantly darting back and forth from one to another. Fortuna, in turn, found her gaze straying towards the woman whose presence had so changed the mood of the little band.

  Lady Darleston, had a pleasantly oval face, but her blush and smile were both painted on, and although her words were pleasant, there was something savage about her eyes.

  “Why are you here?” Darleston towered over his wife. She sat closest to the fireplace—the ruling matriarch.

  “Is it such an inconvenience that I wish to spend time with my husband?” She cast a sly glance at Fortuna as she spoke, and for a moment their eyes met. Fortuna immediately pictured her in the park the following day, wrapped up against the cold in a crested barouche, spreading word of her whereabouts to the other society matrons.

  “If I wanted your company, Lucy, I’d request it.” Darleston dropped his brandy glass into the hands of Dovecote’s servant and swept out of the room.

  Lucy responded with a theatrical sigh, and gave a delicate shake of her head. “I see neither of you gentlemen is prepared to defend me. It pleases him to be spiteful. It’s a disgrace that he even attempts to leave me behind like that.”

  “It was hardly leaving you behind,” Giles remarked, staring at the door through which Darleston had departed. “You do live there.”

  “I reside there, Giles. Live implies there is something beside boredom to be had within those walls.”

  Giles stretched his long legs and crossed to the sideboard. “Please, save your breath, no sob stories. I’m sure the arrival of the new countess has provided you with endless opportunities for entertainment, without you needing to intrude upon ours.”

  “That is where you are mistaken.” Her voice dropped to a breathy sigh. “I’m here because what I want is here. Surely Miss Allenthorpe will not deny me the pleasure of one gentleman’s company when she has three at her disposal?”

  Giles hushed Fortuna with the tick of his fingertip before she had a chance to respond. “Come,” he said, and taking her hand, drew her into the hallway. “There is no point in rising to her bait. Best we simply humour her, least she becomes even more spiteful. She has what she wants now.”

  Fortuna frowned. “Didn’t she want Lord Darleston?” They’d left Lady Darleston with Neddy.

  Giles shook his head. “Pay her no regard. Come, I’ll show you the guest room.” He slipped his hand into hers.

  Fortuna’s heart found its way into her throat as he led her upstairs. She’d trodden a similar path with Pennerley to his bedchamber and lost her innocence as a result. She couldn’t lose it twice, but that didn’t quell her nervousness. Nor did it mean she had to make the same mistake twice. She’d given her virginity to Pennerley having conceived of some ninny notion that the attraction between them ran both ways. In truth she’d been no more than a passing diversion for the handsome marquis, who instead of offering for her hand, had abandoned her the moment the deed was done, leaving Sir Hector as her only suitor.

  Dovecote paused on the first landing, so she could steady her rattling teacup. He rested his back against the burnt orange walls. “You look as if you’re expecting to be devoured.”

  “Am I?”

  Fire flared within his eyes, and he moved swiftly forward. Fortuna squealed in fright and jerked away, causing the teacup to leap from the saucer. It tumbled down the stairs and smashed across the mosaic tiles.

  “Oh! I’m sorry.” She lifted her skirts as if to follow.

  Dovecote pried the saucer from her grasp and chucked it after the cup.

  Fortuna stared up at him in shock, straight into his jade-green eyes.

  “It’s no use without the cup.” His thumb brushed slowly across her parted lips, moistening them. “Do you want me to, Fortuna, or is it just what you expect?”

  Yes, yes, she did, and she didn’t. Her nipples were already two stiff spokes rubbing against the stifling barrier of her stays. She longed to feel his touch, yet feared the rejection that would surely follow. Eyes downcast, she refused to answer.

  “I gave you my protection, so I’ll only do what you ask. So, tell me, what it is you desire?”

  She wanted his kisses to rain down upon her face, wanted to feel passion and love. Have him lift her breasts free and press his lips to them, roll her nipples hard between his fingers and thumbs. She wriggled at the thought, unable to suppress the urge to deliver a touch of friction to her quim.

  Giles’s pink tongue flicked against his teeth, and suddenly she sobered. He was enjoying this tease, and probably had no intention of delivering upon it. “You’re just like him,” she blurted, roused to sudden anger. What a fool she was to even imagine she was helping herself by coming here.

  Giles quirked an eyebrow. “I hope that by him you don’t mean Sir—.”

  “Pennerley.” She cut him off.

  “Ah!” He took a step back from her, and clasped the banister. “And we are speaking of him because?”

  Fortuna blushed furiously, realizing what she’d just admitted. Lord knows what Giles thought of her now. She hardly dared look at him to find out. No doubt he’d thought her chaste and virtuous.

  “Did you enjoy what he did?” His voice was surprisingly gentle. “I know Pennerley is cruel, but rumour has it, delectable too. Although, I confess I’m surprised to hear you speak of him.”

  Her heart tumbled into her stomach as the memories of Pennerley’s touch flooded her senses. He’d tossed her like a wild storm, only to cast her aside when his pleasure was done. What little intimacy they’d shared had been brief, and fierce. It had made her feel crazy and alive. She’d burned with it, been consumed with the raw newness of it, but for Pennerley, she suspected it had passed as largely unremarkable. His rejection ha
d hurt. It still hurt. It was like a little pocket of pain she carried around, but had no way of emptying out. Would Dovecote really be the same? After he’d spilled his seed, would the sheen on his knight’s armour seem tarnished?

  The next gulp of air she took, stuck like a hard lump in her throat, still she forced the words around it. “I...” She’d enjoyed and hated every minute of it. “Likely, you’ve more experience of him. He’s your friend. I bet you’ve spent numerous evenings in his company watching him engage in all manner of vices.”

  Giles smoothed his thumb over her palm in concentric circles, coaxing trust with the caress, and making her traitorous body sigh. Regardless of the rejection she was anticipating, she wasn’t ready to forgo the intimacy that came first. She’d made the decision to run away with him. She’d see it to the end. Despite Giles’s promises, she hoped this tarnished her reputation; perhaps then Sir Hector would frown at the thought of her. After his speech on the purity of female love, she didn’t think he’d consent to owning soiled goods.

  “Actually, despite common opinion, Pennerley isn’t half as promiscuous as many of his peers,” said Giles. The skin between his brows wrinkled in an endearing way that made her want to rub away the furrows. “He doesn’t flaunt his conquests, and I’ve never seen him make love. I wish that I could say the same about Neddy…” he glanced back down the stairs, “whom it is rather difficult to avoid seeing.”

  “And you? What of you?”

  Giles smiled. “That, Miss Allenthorpe, you’ll have to learn for yourself. I made you a promise earlier, and your past adventures don’t change that. I won’t do anything unless you ask it of me. You may stay as long as you wish.”

  Fortuna bit her lip. “Doesn’t that make you a funny sort of rakehell?”

  “Perhaps,” Giles mused. “But I would never describe myself like that.”

  * * * * *

  A tester bed with thick red drapes dominated the guestroom. Dark wood wainscoting lined the walls to shoulder height, above which, the walls were painted the maroon of dried blood. It might have been oppressive if the decorations had been less lascivious. Numerous paintings hung from the picture rails and several lewd sculptures graced the surfaces of the furniture.