The Scandal of Lady Eleanor

by Regina Jeffers

  CHAPTER 7

  THE LAST OF THE GUESTS DEPARTED, all declaring the Fowler ball a huge success. Ella and Velvet officially became the most popular offerings of the Season, a rarity in the fact they were not straight from the schoolroom but still experiencing their first tastes of Society. At nineteen and twenty years of age, they were perceived to be more marriageable than those of seventeen, the normal age for making one’s debut. Crowden made his farewells, agreeing to escort Mrs. Warren to her lodging, although Fowler offered his carriage for her use. Now only Fowler, the Duchess, Velvet, Lord Worthing, and Eleanor remained in the blue sitting room.

  “Aunt Agatha, you are a social genius, my Dear,” Fowler reached over to pat her hand. They sat together on a settee, both lounging into the cushions, exhausted by the evening.

  The Duchess’s eyes twinkled with delight. “It was quite delicious, was it not? All the obstacles are behind us; my girls simply need to enjoy the rest of this Season’s activities.”

  “They both deserve it,” Fowler nodded at Velvet and Eleanor, “and they owe their success to you, Your Grace.” He stood as he spoke. “As I have an early appointment with my solicitor, I am to bed.” He bent to kiss Ella’s cheek. “You were magnificent tonight, Eleanor. I have never seen you look more beautiful. Our mother must be beaming in Heaven this evening as she looks down upon her daughter.” She reached up to cup his jaw line with a loving caress. Then Fowler took Velvet’s hand and brought her fingers to his lips for an extended display of affection. “My Dear, you are a diamond among pearls. Our family is blessed to have you amongst us.” He wanted to say more, but he judiciously withdrew instead.

  Not ten minutes later, Agatha followed. “My old bones need their rest. I shall not be available before noon tomorrow. You are leaving soon, Worthing?” indicating he should not stay without a chaperone.

  “I am,Your Grace,” he assured her, but he would not leave until Ella sent him away.

  For another twenty minutes, he, Ella, and Miss Aldridge made small talk. Ella’s cousin gave both Fowler and the Duchess time to reach their beds before she made her own announcement of retiring. “I will tell your brother I saw His Lordship leave,” she proclaimed out of nowhere, and then she stood to depart. “Please do not tarry too long, Eleanor. I do not wish to be in Bran’s bad graces.”

  He looked on as Ella squeezed Velvet’s hand and mouthed the words “thank you” before hugging her cousin good night. James considered his own gratitude. Miss Aldridge kept her word of providing them time together. “Release the staff,” Ella told Velvet. “I will see Lord Worthing out.” James’s heart skipped a beat. Miss Aldridge nodded and left the room, pointedly closing the door behind her.

  Nervously, Ella turned to where he now stood. She had asked for this privacy, but she, apparently, had never expected it to happen so easily. On impulse, she had requested that he stay simply because they needed each other’s company. Now, his Amazon knew not what to say or do, and he found that very endearing.

  James knew what to do, however, and he immediately crossed the room, locked the door, and then turned to take her into his embrace. He lifted her chin with his fingertips and lowered his mouth to Ella’s, needing a long, slow kiss to quench his thirst. She tasted of wine and of Eleanor—a totally delicious combination, and he was drunk with desire. Ella opened her mouth, an invitation in which he gladly partook.

  “Come,” he said when he finally released her. James led her to a settee, before extinguishing all the lights but one located on the far wall, leaving them draped in shadows and in secret. Returning to where she sat, he gathered her into his arms and lifted Ella gently to his lap. “I have been picturing this since supper,” he whispered into her hair, as Ella leaned her head on his shoulder and slid her arms around him.

  “I should protest your forwardness, Lord Worthing.”

  “But you will not.” He traced lines of heat up and down her arms with his fingertips.

  Ella spread light kisses along his jaw line and cheek. “No… never where you are concerned.”

  James returned to her mouth, drinking deeply of her lips—exploring it with his tongue. “God, Ella, I want you,” he moaned. “I mean to have you as my own.” He growled as he invaded her mouth again, exploring her warmth. And then he cupped her breast. Unlike before, Ella did not stiffen with his touch, and James gloried in the knowledge she was learning to trust him. Continuing to kiss her with all the desire he held, he squeezed and stroked, feeling her breast swell under his ministrations. Finally, he slid his fingers along the dress’s neckline, teasing the nipples, fondling them with his contact. The buds hardened, a delightful reward, and Ella groaned in response.

  She tilted her head away from him, and James let his mouth slide to her neck and finally to the swell of her breasts. He trailed wet kisses all over her, sucking gently at her skin, and raking along her pulse with his teeth. Ella’s chest rose and fell with desire, and he was so swollen he thought himself in pain, but he ignored it all. Ella needed him to teach her about love, to take it slow, and so he would.

  “Let me taste you,” he whispered close to her ear before sucking once on the lobe.

  Her eyes opened wide, but James silenced her objections with his mouth. “I will not hurt you, Ella. I will wash away all the evil that once surrounded you. Let me love you, Ella.You deserve to be loved by someone who worships you,” he coaxed.

  Making a conscious decision, Ella relaxed across the settee’s arm, allowing him access to his desires. As he kissed and licked and nipped at her neck, James loosened her ties from behind with his left hand, while continuing to caress her breasts with his right. Finally, he raised his head, and quite ceremoniously, he lowered the front of Ella’s gown and exposed her breasts to his stare. They were round and full, and, oh, so tempting, and he knew she reddened in embarrassment, for he felt the heat of her against his fingers. “Beautiful,” he murmured. “Breathtakingly beautiful.”

  Purposely, he moaned as he lowered his head to lick her nipples, tracing the bud with his tongue and blowing a stream of warm air over the wetness, aware of how Ella arched toward him, pressing her breasts to his mouth, requiring something she did not even know existed. When he placed his lips over her nipple and began to suck, Ella sighed with relief.

  Her reaction fueled James’s madness, and he sucked harder, taking her into his mouth—scraping his teeth over one bud while palming the other with his free hand. Soon Ella’s breathing became shallow, and her body began to thrust as if needing an elusive intangible to push her over the edge.

  James knew what she sought, and as he continued to suckle her, he reached down to catch the skirt’s hem and began to edge it upward. Captivated by this new intimacy, he questioned whether he should elevate this experience to the next level after having, literally, lowered her “guard,” but his hand moved on its own, enthralled by her hips’ rotations, seeking release. Fully exposing her legs to his touch, he moved his fingers in small circles along her inner thighs, pushing closer to her most private part. Higher and higher he traced lines across her pelvis before loosening the ribbon holding her drawers and opening them fully, rendering her to him. He cupped her mons in his palm, feeling the heat of her explode against his hand. Ella’s hips lifted to his warmth, thrusting again and again.

  Laying his head across her chest to block Ella’s view of what his hand was doing to her nether zone, James’s mouth found her other breast. He wanted her to simply feel the pleasure, not to think about it. His fingertips parted the lips, and then he slid a finger into her opening. He heard Ella gasp and her breathing become faster. While sliding the finger in and out of her, sometimes slowly and sometimes with a rougher rhythm, James continued to lave her breast with the rough texture of his tongue.

  When she quickened her force against his hand, James returned to her lips. As he did so, his thumb began to circle the nub at the opening to her wetness. He slid the one finger out all the way, and before she sighed in complaint, he guided two in, feeli
ng her lift to him. Now, his tongue mimicked the glide of his fingers. He touched the inside of her and rubbed her core with a demanding desire to satisfy her completely. Ella gave herself up to him, arching to him again and again, riding the crest of pleasure he invoked in her. And then she became painfully still, and he knew when the dam broke, and she quivered into his palm. The muscles inside her contracted around his fingers while his thumb milked the last of the climax from her.

  Tears trickled from the corners of her eyes when he raised his head to look at her. Ella’s bottom lip, swollen from the pressure of his kiss, trembled with desire and relief and an unspoken devotion. “You are my bane, Eleanor Fowler.” His own breathing fought to return to normal as he lowered her skirt across her legs.

  “What was that?” she whispered. She lay across his lap, her breasts fully exposed to his sight. She did not open her eyes, languidly enjoying what had just happened to her.

  James brushed his lips over hers. “That, my Love, is passion—pure, unaltered passion. When you are mine, I plan to drown you in it—to smother you in love.” He kissed her closed lids and the tip of her nose. Restoring the front of her dress to its proper place, he lifted her to him. “It will be a Herculean act for me to leave you, but I cannot defile you even though every nerve in my body is screaming for more. You must now understand how very precious you are to me, Eleanor. As soon as your brother allows, I will declare myself openly to the world, and if you agree, we will marry before the Season ends.”

  She wrapped her arms around his neck, happy in the contentment he brought to her life. “You will call tomorrow?” she murmured close to his ear.

  “Not until later in the day.” He sat her forward and began to tighten her dress’s strings. “I am to call on Mrs. Cavendish tomorrow so I might release her to Sir Neville’s care.”

  “Shall you be sorry?” Ella now stood so as to adjust her clothing properly; James lingered behind her, tying off the ribbons. Never fully assured of her own power over him, Ella looked away.

  Recognizing her body’s tension, James kissed her neck’s nape. “It is time. Maybe if I had found someone else, I might still require Mary’s services upon occasion; although for some time, I have seen the arrangement’s futility.” He turned Ella into his embrace. “Eleanor, I loved Elizabeth with a young man’s fascination, and I decided some time ago I could not remarry unless I found a love of equal merit. Then you walked into my life, and my world tilted, sending me off the end and plunging me into a desire to protect and love only you. I need no one else; you are the blood that courses through my veins. Without you, I do not exist.”

  Ella’s mouth tilted upward for a kiss. “Then I will see you at the Donne’s soiree?”

  “You shall, Lady Eleanor.” He caught her hand. “You must be to bed,” he said as he pulled her toward the main hall. “Without me,” he winked and then teasingly ran his hands up and down her arms before he reached for the door. Pausing, he added, “Yet, that shall not be for long. Once we marry, you and I will sleep in each other’s arms for the rest of our lives. Good night, my Love.” He kissed her cheek before letting himself out the main door.

  Eleanor slid the bolt into place and then returned to the drawing room. She straightened the pillows and retrieved her discarded drawers, making sure nothing in the room would betray what had happened there. “How can I ever enter this room without thinking of James?” she whispered aloud. He had called her his love and said she was the blood that kept him alive. How marvelously salacious! Ella hugged herself joyously and twirled around the room before rushing up the stairs to her own chambers. The heat of James Kerrington’s mouth on her lips and her breasts and the feel of his hands upon her body still lingered. Tonight she would dream of a marriage proposal and a wedding before the Season’s end.

  The room filled in the afternoon, a plethora of gentlemen vying for their attentions, but neither Velvet nor Eleanor cared. Velvet minded only the fact that Brantley Fowler called on Mrs. Warren at her lodgings. In fact, she was so vexed by his sudden interest in this particular military widow that she was very nearly rude to all her potential suitors. Eleanor cared only for her dreams of last night, and her disinterest in her callers showed. Both women feigned exhaustion from their Come Out ball and sent the men on their way earlier than usual.

  “How could Bran?”Velvet whined once they were alone.

  “I am sure my brother is simply looking for a suitable companion. He assumes you do the same,” Ella reminded her.

  Velvet slammed the pillow she clutched into the chair and then followed it down. “But we both know I am only trying to make him jealous.”

  “Evidently, you succeeded in convincing Bran you took Lord Godown seriously.”

  Frustrated, Velvet bit her lower lip. “I do not know what else I might do to make Bran notice me.”

  “Maybe you should just tell him the truth—stop playing games,” Ella suggested. She thought how such silliness would never work with James Kerrington, and her brother and Lord Worthing shared some of the more essential qualities.

  “Oh, yes, I can hear me now: ‘Bran, I want you to love me as I love you.’ He would laugh me out of his study and marry me off to the first interested caller.” Velvet punched the pillow again. “The thing is—how may I compete with Mrs. Warren? She knows how to talk to men about something besides hats and parties. She knows how to kiss a man—fuel his desire.”

  “You know about things other than fashion,” Ella protested. “Did not Bran seek your help with the cottagers?”

  “But I do not know how to kiss a man and make him want me.”

  Ella laughed lightly. “I should hope not, Cousin.”

  “How do you kiss Lord Worthing?”

  Ella flushed with color. “I beg your pardon.”

  “Come, Ella; it is important. How did you know what to do? Lord Worthing is definitely besotted with you.”

  Ella looked about uncomfortably, wishing she had never partaken of this conversation. “I have no secrets to share, Cousin. I simply allowed His Lordship some freedoms, and he showed me what he wants from his partner.”

  Velvet considered this tidbit carefully. “Maybe I should petition Bran to teach me how to kiss,” she thought aloud.

  “I do not think I want to hear this. The less I know of your schemes to win my brother’s heart, the better.”

  Suddenly, Velvet was on her feet. “I need to make plans. Some way, I need to convince Bran to teach me about love. It is sure to work; I am positive of it. How can your brother resist me once we kiss repeatedly?”

  Ella stammered, “I…I still believe telling Bran the truth would be best.”

  “Forgive me if I seek my own counsel,” Velvet declared. “You have just admitted you know nothing about making a man love you. It is obvious that His Lordship adores you, but you did naught to earn his regard. He pursued you; you did not have to even lift a little finger.”Velvet was already moving toward the door. “With Bran, I have to do it all, but one day he will thank me for showing him what he needs in life.”

  “Velvet,” Ella called, trying to stop her, but her cousin was halfway up the stairs. Alone in the room, Ella rested across the settee upon which she had shared intimacies with Kerrington the previous night. Was Velvet right? Had Lord Worthing pursued her? She knew him to be more experienced, and for the most part, she let him lead the way, but she took chances, like the kiss in his library. Did she need to do more? She had not even told James of her devotion to him. He expressed his adoration all the time, but she only accepted his words—never saying them back to him. Tonight. Tonight, I will tell James Kerrington how much I love him.

  Some time later, engrossed in her thoughts of Lord Worthing, Ella resented the tap on the door that interrupted her private time. A footman brought in a note on a silver salver addressed to her. She lifted it from the tray and examined it. She did not recognize the handwriting nor was there a marking in the wax. She hoped it was from James, but she knew inherently it was not, ev
en before she opened it. Her hands nervously broke the seal, and she unfolded two pages, one nestled inside the other.

  The inserted page resembled one from a diary or journal, and she curiously turned it over in her hand several times before opening it.

  3 November

  The young girl is lovely—looking no more than fourteen or fifteen at most. Evidently, Robert had visited her before, for she did not seem at all surprised to see him or her father.

  Ella’s breath came in short bursts; her hands shook so violently she could barely see the paper. The page spoke of her.

  Her father, bare-chested, sat behind her, after stripping off the child’s nightgown. He held her to him, her naked form pressed against the Duke’s chest, his arms around the girl’s thin waist. With his own hands, he cupped his daughter’s developing breasts and lifted them so Robert’s mouth might touch them. I watched with some fascination as my husband took pleasure in the young girl’s body. Robert suckled her like a babe, and I found my own breasts swelling in response.

  I never wanted this; I simply wanted my husband to touch me again as if he desired me. The wine and the black powder Robert shared made my head dull with reason, but I could not look away as Robert began to touch himself as he suckled the girl. It was too much. Like a wanton courtesan, I shoved Robert back on the girl’s bed and mounted him.

  Ella remembered that evening as if it were yesterday. Her father often came to her room late at night when everyone else was asleep. Her mother was but two months in the grave when he first came to her, telling her he needed to know she loved him. When she swore she did, he begged her to prove it. No one has ever truly loved me, Ella. And then he would plead with her to touch him because people who loved one another showed it by touching. He placed her hand on him and began to move until he screamed out in what sounded like pain, but which later she found out to be pleasurable for him. For a few weeks, he brought his friend with him, both of them smelling of alcohol and his friend of a sweet tobacco. Her father allowed the new baronet to touch her breasts—only her breasts—although the man bargained for more. That particular night, the Duke brought the man and a woman. When her father caught her to him, he told Ella not to move. If she did, he would make Velvet love him instead. She promised her obedience, and he held her for his friend’s pleasure.