Lady Mariel's Scandalous Love: Regency Romance (Regency Scandals Book 2)

by Arietta Richmond

  Alex made a show of looking offended.

  “Mariel! How could you believe that I would have kept such a thing from you?”

  “Perhaps because every other gentleman I know most definitely would have?”

  “That is true. I can’t blame you, I suppose.”

  “Now that you know about it – what do you want to do? I thought that, perhaps, Dash would be interested in seeing this collection?”

  “I am sure that he would – and we should tell him about it. As far as what do I want to do? I think that I want to absolutely never let my mother know that this exists. And I want to explore what is here, in great detail, and maybe…” Alex cast a sidelong glance at Selina, “…experiment with some of the items this room contains.”

  Selina blushed, and Mariel found herself both amused, and completely envious again.

  ~~~~~

  Dash brushed the dust from his hands, and attempted to brush it from his clothing. Del Monte was beginning to despair of ever seeing Dash in dustless clothes again. Another crate was empty – the last in this room. It was time to move on to the third and final room which had been full of crates for so long. But before he began that, he really should attend to the day’s correspondence.

  He brushed at his dusty attire again, gave up, and left the East Wing, closing and locking the door after himself. In his study, a pile of letters awaited him, neatly stacked on his desk by Chalmers. Dash frowned at them. There were more than he would normally expect to receive. He shrugged, went to the sideboard, and poured himself a brandy, then settled at the desk to deal with what was most likely a dull collection of bills, and missives from his parents, no doubt suggesting that he visit them at Cockleigh Great Hall as soon as possible.

  The first few letters on the pile proved to be exactly that. He set the bills to one side, to be addressed by his man of business, and after a quick glance at it, left his mother’s letter to read that evening. But, after those first few letters, he discovered three in a row which were unexpected, and rather disturbing.

  There was only one conclusion he could draw from them – Lord Manderforce had been gossiping.

  For the letters were each from well-known gentlemen of the ton, men he had met but once or twice in his life, before he had gone off to Italy, enquiring, in a somewhat circumspect manner, about the possibility of arranging a private viewing of his collection. There was no mention of where they had heard about it – but Manderforce was the only possibility. They skirted around the topic, just referring to it as his collection of artefacts, but still, the implications were obvious.

  He leant back, sipping at his brandy, considering. This meant that he had no choice but get a building in London arranged as fast as possible, and the collection moved there. Even if that was done rapidly, this could bring problems – what if his father heard of it, through the men’s clubs, before Dash had the chance to tell him, himself?

  He was quite certain that his father was going to disapprove of the family being associated with such a scandalous collection, even whilst, like all of these other men, almost certainly wanting to see it for himself. He finished opening letters, then wrote a quick note to his man of business, asking that the acquisition of a London building be carried out without delay. He would need to reply to the gentlemen who had enquired, but that could wait a few days, whilst he considered what best to actually say to them.

  With everything disposed as it should be, he gathered up his mother’s letter, tucked it into his pocket, and returned to uncrating the collection – speed was now of the essence.

  ~~~~~

  On an evening soon after, Dash went to Fortescue Grange for dinner, as he often did of late. He had hoped to discuss his plans for the London building, and the ‘Museum of Human Eroticism’ but his wishes were thwarted by the presence of the Dowager Duchess. Alex’s mother was, most definitely, not the sort of woman who would cope well with such a conversation.

  As he entered the parlour on his arrival, Mariel met his eyes, and quickly tilted her head to the side, in the direction of the Dowager Duchess, warning him. he gave the tiniest nod, then turned to greet the Dowager first, as protocol demanded.

  “Good evening Your Grace, I trust that you are well?”

  “I am, Lord Longwood. How are you faring, settling back into English life, after so long on the continent?”

  “Very well, Your Grace, although I must admit that I find the weather remarkably chill, after many years in Italy.”

  Alex chose to join the conversation, and save Dash from being completely trapped by his mother.

  “I can only agree, Longwood – it has taken me quite some time to even begin to adjust.”

  And so the evening went – a plethora of pointless inane conversation, whilst four out of the five people present chafed at the restriction which prevented them saying what they wished.

  Dash found himself, multiple times, opening his lips, and then shutting them again, narrowly preventing himself from asking a question of Mariel, or describing something to Alex, either of which things would have instantly scandalised the Dowager Duchess. He met Mariel’s eyes across the table, and she gave a little smile of sympathy. She was, he thought, just as beautiful when being demure as she was when being outrageous.

  Although, the sparkle in her eyes suggested that she was not really thinking demure thoughts at all. For that matter, when watching her, and with his head full of the things he wanted to ask her, and the things that, more and more, he wanted to show her, he was not thinking polite, chaste thoughts either. Far from it. He wrenched his eyes away – if he allowed his thoughts to go down that track, he would be very uncomfortable indeed, very fast – imagining showing Mariel, in person, the function of some of the things he had unpacked that day was a very, very bad idea, when at a dinner table with an older lady with a prudish attitude. He forced his attention back to the conversation, just as the Dowager spoke, again.

  “I have heard, just this afternoon, that Lady Phyllida Wormington is to be betrothed to the Earl of Hockingmoor.” As she said this, she looked, very pointedly, at Alex and Selina – who assumed expressions of calm innocence in the face of her glare. “It has not been officially announced yet, but I believe there will be a dinner or a soiree soon, to celebrate it, and make the announcement.”

  Dash watched, intrigued, as Alex met Selina’s eyes for a moment, his expression one that Dash recognised as being repressed amusement. Then he responded to his mother’s words.

  “How delightful, Mother. I am sure that they will suit each other perfectly. They have such… similar attitudes… to how things should go on in society. I must wish them well.”

  Selina almost choked on her food at his words, and Dash determined that he would ask Alex what that was about, later.

  Finally, the seemingly interminable dinner came to an end, and the Dowager chose to retire to the Dower House, rather than joining them in the parlour. As they heard her carriage draw away, they all released pent breaths, and collapsed into the chairs near the fire.

  “That was one of the most stilted dinner conversations that I have ever been a part of!”

  Mariel laughed at Dash’s emphatic words.

  “It was – I am continually afraid that one of us will slip up, when the Dowager is here, and say something utterly scandalous – something like our normal conversation, about fornication, and tools for sexual gratification, and the words for such things in multiple languages. After this, how will I ever get on in polite society again? I am sure to say something scandalous, somewhere!”

  It was Selina’s turn to laugh.

  “Mariel, you have always said scandalous things – I am not sure that anyone would be surprised if you said something more scandalous than usual.”

  Mariel waved her hand, dismissing Selina’s contention. Dash took the chance to ask the question which he had wanted to ask for more than an hour now.

  “Alex and Selina – I must ask – it was very obvious that there was some deeper sig
nificance to the news of Lady Phyllida Wormington and Lord Hockingmoor’s betrothal – something which the two of you, and the Dowager knew of. Something she was annoyed about, and which you found amusing, if I read your expressions correctly?”

  “You did read it correctly. It was significant because lady Phyllida and Lord Hockingmoor are the… encumbrances… which Selina and I freed ourselves from, by indulging in that delightful scandal which… forced… us to marry. Mother has not quite forgiven us for that yet.”

  “And what Alex said was utterly true – they are as stuffy, selfish and narrow minded as each other – perfectly suited.”

  Mariel laughed again, at Selina’s description. Dash just nodded. No evening spent with these friends was ever dull. A point which was made, again, when Mariel turned to Alex.

  “Alex, now that your mother has gone, might I take this opportunity to show Dash the… discovery… in the library? Or do you want to have the honour of doing so?”

  Alex smiled, and took a sip of his port.

  “I am quite happy here. You discovered it, so you should have the honour of providing the tour.”

  “Tour? Of what? What am I to be shown?”

  Dash looked at them, curious and puzzled – what on earth was this about? Mariel rose, and held out her hand, as if that was the most natural thing in the world for her to do.

  “Come, I’ll show you – it’s a surprise I think you’ll like.”

  He took that outstretched hand, feeling the heat from her touch flood through him, straight to his groin, and allowed her to pull him to his feet. She did not release his hand as she led him from the room, and through the house to the library. He was acutely aware of her touch, of her scent, every moment as they walked. She did not speak, but simply led him into the book filled room.

  Just inside the door, she released his hand, lifted a lantern from a small table, and went to the fire to light it. Once it was lit, she continued deep into the large room, past long shelves. He followed, wishing that he still held her hand, feeling the loss of that contact acutely. They came to a deeply shadowed niche between high shelves, and she slipped into the darkness.

  “Take care, Dash, the books here are dusty, and the space is very narrow.”

  “Mariel, surely you do not think that I fear a little dust? Or a lot, for that matter. You have seen me brushing dust from myself every time that I have been uncrating more of my collection.”

  “Your valet must hate it.”

  “He does – he positively sulks, and will no doubt celebrate on the day that I empty the last crate.”

  She laughed, then lifted the lantern high, turning to him a little.

  “Here, please hold this up, so that my hands are freed for a moment.”

  He took it, doing as she had asked, puzzled. For in front of them was a blank wall.

  She lifted a few books from a shelf, and set them on the floor, for some incomprehensible reason, as he watched. Then she reached out her hand to a carving on the end of the bookshelf, and did something – he could not clearly see what. There was an odd click, and the wall… moved.

  “What….?”

  She pushed the stack of books on the floor halfway into the doorway, then reached back and took his hand again, pulling him forward. It was a small room, obviously built into the very wall of the building, but it was full of shelves and cabinets. She took the lantern from his hand, and moved to stand in front of a set of drawers. Holding the lantern high, she pulled the top drawer open.

  His breath left him in a gasp, and he reached out, without thinking.

  “Dilettos….”

  “Is that what they’re called? Wonderful! Another word for my list.”

  Chapter Nine

  Mariel watched Dash’s face as his fingers traced the carved ivory. It was immediately obvious to her that she had made the right choice in showing him the secret room – and that he likely knew the name and purpose of every object that the room contained. Which was wonderful – and convinced her, instantly, that it was almost certain that his collection at Longwood Peak was comprised of far more than books.

  Absently, almost as if he was too focused on the objects before him to register anything else, he responded to her words.

  “Yes – diletto is the word used for them in most of the Italian peninsula. There are other words too. Godemiche is one, and dildo is another.”

  Mariel filed the words in her mental dictionary, then dared to reach out and take his hand again – the hand that was not exploring the dilettos. She tugged on it gently, until he turned to her. She set the lantern down carefully.

  “There are many things in this room, most of which I don’t have words for, and many books as well – most of which I have never seen before. Alex suspects that the collection was created by his grandfather, and may not have been touched since then. Quite possibly, his father did not know of its existence. Look – this shelf is full of books – I haven’t looked at more than a few, so far – I have been too busy with your translation.”

  His eyes finally came to actually focus on her, and the look in them, so full of heat and happiness, quite took her breath away. Before she could do more than wonder at that look, feeling a corresponding heat rise in her body, he used their still joined hands to pull her to him, and summarily brought his lips to hers as his arms enfolded her. She melted into the kiss, instantly knowing that his skill in such matters far outpaced that of any man who she had previously allowed to kiss her.

  Thought fled, then, and only sensation remained – the taste of him, the scent of him, the heat of his hands upon her, the utterly delicious eroticism of his tongue exploring her mouth, the very obvious hard evidence of his desire, pressed against her body, almost at the juncture of her thighs, and the desperate need for his touch which filled her.

  She participated in the kiss with as much fervour as he, exploring his body with her hands, his lips and mouth with her tongue, and pressing herself to him, as if they could somehow meld into one. His hands slid up her sides, and came to cup her breasts. A moan escaped her at the sensation. Then his thumbs traced the edge of her bodice, pushing the fabric down, until they could brush across her aching, hardened nipples. She moaned again, thrusting herself into those hands, unable to think for the pleasure which shot through her body, as if lightning traced her veins.

  Minutes passed, and the kiss went on, the wonderful exploration of his hands went on, until Mariel ached all over, but especially deep inside, for more of that touch. Her mind filled with quite explicit and intense images, of all of the things she had seen illustrations of, which could be done between a man and a woman – things which, now, feeling his lips and hands upon her, she wanted to explore – as soon as possible.

  His thumbs brushed her nipples, again and again, and her gasps intensified as the pleasure rose. She pulled back a little from his lips as her knees went weak beneath her, a whimper of pleasure escaping her. That sound seemed to bring him back to awareness, and he pulled his hands away, as if to step back from her. She clung to him, breathing hard, and met those deep amber eyes. His hands came back to rest on her sides.

  “Mariel, I…”

  She knew it – he was going to try to apologise!

  “Don’t you dare apologise, if that is what you intended to do! That was… remarkable.”

  “But I shouldn’t… I was just so thrilled at what you have found here, and my wish to thank you transformed into rather more… enthusiasm… than I had at first intended.”

  “I do not give a fig for whether you should or not. I am not, in any way, complaining about your actions. Far from it. I thoroughly enjoyed every second of that. In fact, I think that I would rather like it if you would indulge me, and kiss me again.”

  His face showed shock at her words, but also desire – the heat had not left his eyes, and his hands where they rested on her sides tightened.

  “If you are sure…”

  “I am very sure.”

  Mariel pushed herself up
on her toes slightly, and lifted her arms to wrap them around his neck, then brought her mouth to his, tracing the edge of his lips with the tip of her tongue. Dash groaned deeply, as if struggling to resist, then obviously gave in. He crushed her hard against him, and took her mouth in a kiss full of deep hunger and desire, which left her unable to think at all.

  ~~~~~

  The following day, Mariel sat in the small office at Longwood Peak, her translation before her, trying to make herself focus on the work at hand. She was not, at all, succeeding. Instead, her mind replayed those kisses, in the secret room at Fortescue Grange.

  It had taken some time, even after they had forced themselves apart, for both of them to achieve a normal heart rate and slow breathing. They had been dreadfully awkward – both wanting to keep kissing, and both knowing that they could not, at that point, simply give in to their desires. They had said nothing, but had turned, by mutual, unspoken consent, to exploring the books which lined the shelves of that room. Once they had calmed enough, they had each taken a book with them, and carefully closed up the room, returning to the parlour. Once there, Dash had spoken with Alex about the room, and the likely provenance of the items it contained, but Mariel had said little, still too achingly unsettled to quite know what to say.

  Selina had looked at her, no doubt noting her flushed cheeks, and had raised an enquiring eyebrow. Mariel had given a tiny shake of her head, and mouthed ‘later’, to which Selina had simply nodded, and poured Mariel a glass of port.

  This morning, upon their arrival at Longwood Peak, she had felt unsure of everything, but Dash had seemed just as always, almost as if he was pretending that those kisses had never happened. If he was trying to do so, Mariel was torn between allowing it, to make everything simpler, and being offended – for those kisses had been far from ‘nothing’. He had, as usual, greeted them, then left them to the translation whilst he went about more unpacking of crates – wherever it was that he did that.