Three Times the Scandal (Georgian Rakehells) Read online

  The rasp of her sheets coupled with her sacred little moans soon set him clawing at his own flesh. He pushed his hands into his hair to keep them busy.

  Fortuna lurched upright. For a split second he feared he’d been heard. Her eyes glittered like polished obsidian as she left the bed, but she did not come to the door. Instead, her head twisted from side to side, seeking something. Finally, her gaze fixed upon the candelabrum, which she bore back to the bed, carefully nursing the flickering flame. Only when she was satisfactorily positioned, with the covers tugged around her for warmth did she extinguish the candle.

  Deprived of the vision, Giles allowed his imagination to fill in the blanks. Certainly, her harsh breaths coupled with the slick sounds inspired a detailed vision of her working the slim white wand between the lips of her quim.

  It would be so easy to turn the handle, go in and offer her a flesh and blood stave to fill her instead. But he didn’t. Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow, he’d hear her mewl with pleasure he’d inspired.

  He didn’t wait to hear her finish, but dragged himself downstairs to the drawing room.

  The scene there was comfortingly familiar. Darleston somehow roused from his indifference was swiving his wife, while she simultaneously sucked upon Neddy’s cock.

  “Not with Miss Allenthorpe?” Darleston remarked, when spent, he collapsed against the rug. “I did point her in your direction.”

  Giles ignored him and walked straight to the sideboard that housed the brandy decanter, only to discover there was barely half a glass left. He supped it regardless. “She’s taken to her bed, and I’ll not disturb her.”

  Neddy laughed. He pulled his softening cock from Lucy’s mouth and slumped back against the chaise longue. “I take back my earlier remarks, Giles. You’re losing your touch. Time was you’d have bedded her before we left the ball, and thus saved us this derring-do. Macleane ain’t going to marry her if she’s anything less than perfect. Whether or not you’ve fucked her won’t make a ha’p’orth of difference, he’ll cast her off just the same.” He patted the cushioned seat of the chaise longue, “Now, Giles, come sit yourself down and maybe we can make up for your night of mistakes. A stiff that hard has to hurt, and I know somebody with a very pleasing mouth.”

  Giles eyed both Neddy and Lucy. On another occasion he might have welcomed her attention, and even enjoyed sharing her with his friend, but not tonight.

  “You’ve not gone shy, have you?” Neddy’s fist closed tight around his own flesh, causing a bead of clear fluid to leak from the tip.

  Giles swallowed the remains of the brandy. “No.” He gave a shrug. “Soft.” And he had. It seemed his prick wanted one person tonight and one person only. “I’ll bid you goodnight gentleman. We’ll speak in the morning.”

  Chapter Four

  “We do indeed have a problem, sir!” Sir Hector’s deep voice rumbled through the atypically quiet hallway of the Allenthorpes’s Jermyn Street house.

  Alicia clasped the spindle of the upstairs balustrade a fraction tighter. They’d all been dreading this moment, ever since Fortuna failed to reappear after her dance with Lord Darleston. They’d spent the whole night searching for her, first quietly at Darleston House, and then once Mr. Allenthorpe had arrived back from Brooks’s, he, the Vicomte de Maresi and Gabriel had scoured the streets, all to no avail. Fortuna hadn’t been found, and now Sir Hector had arrived ready to have his proposal accepted, only to be told his prospective bride had absconded.

  In all fairness, Alicia couldn’t blame her sister, although it had left the rest of them in rather a pickle.

  The door to her father’s study swung inwards, and Sir Hector strode into the hall, his enormous chest puffed up. Typically florid, his complexion had an even more unwholesome look to it this morning, as he rammed his hat onto his head.

  He saw her on the landing, and Alicia drew back from the railings at the blackness of his gaze. “Find her,” he growled at her father, who had appeared behind him. “We had an accord, and I at least intend to honour it. You’ll do the same if you’re wise.”

  “Sir Hector, I beg you,” Mr. Allenthorpe beseeched the baronet’s back. He drew out his handkerchief and mopped his brow of sweat. “Think of my other children. I don’t want their names ruined.”

  Sir Hector’s lips contorted into an unfriendly sneer. “To hell with your brats! My interest is in only one thing, and you’d better deliver it, Allenthorpe, or I assure you, there’ll be hell to pay.” He snatched his cane from the waiting footman, and without another word thundered down the front steps.

  The moment the front door closed behind Sir Hector, Alicia scampered down the stairs to her father. He’d looked gaunt from the moment he’d returned from Brooks’s last night, now he looked stricken too. “Father!” She led him by the elbow back into his study and into the comfort of his favourite chair. “What will Sir Hector do? Will he look for Fortuna?”

  Her father shook his head, but not, she thought in response to her question.

  “He doesn’t actually care one whit about your sister, but I fear he’ll take great delight in destroying us.”

  “But how? Fortuna refused him. He has no formal grounds for complaint, and as long as she has not married too badly.” She frowned. Whom would her sister marry? Their mother was convinced she’d eloped, but Alicia couldn’t think of a single man with whom Fortuna would have thrown in her luck, and they were close, far closer to one another than all the rest of their siblings.

  “Do you honestly believe that’s what it is?” asked Mr. Allenthorpe. He brushed his blunt fingers through his thinning grey hair. “I’m not so sure of it myself. Although, at least if she’s found herself a husband she’ll be spared the trouble the rest of us face.”

  Alicia took a step back from his chair, a growing sense of dread tickling at her skin. “What exactly have you promised him father?”

  He shook his head again, cupping his hands over his nose and pressing his fingers into his eyes. “Don’t pry, Alicia. I did what was necessary. As your father, I’m at liberty to marry you off as I see fit.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, although it tore a hole in her heart to think he would marry them all to men they detested to pay some manner of debt. “Couldn’t you have offered him Mercy instead? At least she finds him agreeable.” Fortuna had protested and discouraged Sir Hector’s suit from the outset.

  “Alas, not. Fortuna has something you and your sisters don’t.”

  “James!”

  Alicia jumped at the harsh caw of her mother’s voice. Mrs. Allenthorpe swept into the study wearing her best spotted muslin, with her velvet pelisse and fur stole.

  “Alicia, leave us, dear. Your father and I wish to speak privately.”

  Mr. Allenthorpe gave his middle daughter a weak smile.

  “Go and rouse your sisters,” Mrs. Allenthorpe continued, her gaze fastened upon her husband, who was obliged to produce his kerchief again and apply it to his brow. “We’ll parade in the park in twenty minutes. We’ll hold our heads high and carry on as normal. There’s no reason for anyone to know of your sister’s absence. I won’t have you all suffer because of her foolishness. Spiteful little minx.”

  Alicia hastened to the door. How quickly things had changed. Yesterday Fortuna had been the favoured daughter due to her anticipated engagement. Now, if it wasn’t for whatever bargain had been struck with Sir Hector, she would likely have been disowned.

  Back upstairs, Alicia made towards the rear of the house and let herself into the room Mae shared with Mercy and Patience. The twins were absent, but Mae still sat before the mirror attempting to coax her wild curls into an orderly appearance.

  “Help.” She clasped her hands together. “Please.”

  Alicia took the offered pin box and Mae settled herself before the trinity mirror. “It’s always like this after a ball,” she complained. “A hopeless bird’s nest.”

  “Well, you ought to pin it more carefully.” Alicia frowned at the jumble of p
ins and curls and reached for the pomade. “I suppose you heard Sir Hector leave.”

  “I should imagine so did the Atkins’s five doors down.”

  “Do you know where Fortuna is, Mae?”

  “Of course not. If I did, do you think I’d still be here? I’d be with her. I bet she’s having a glorious time while we’re stuck here listening to Mother froth and Sir Hector bellow.” Mae gave a yearning sigh. “Oh, do pass the scissors. It’ll be much easier to snip away a few of these tangles. I do wish mother would allow me to have it cropped short like Gabriel’s.”

  “Mae, do you realize what is going on. Something horrid is going to happen.”

  “Worrywart,” Mae chided. She reached for the scissors and snipped away several long tresses, which she then cast into the fire.

  “I am not a worrywart. I think father’s indebted to Sir Hector in some way, and now Fortuna’s gone, he can’t pay him.”

  Mae rolled her eyes. “Well, obviously, since she’s not here.”

  “I don’t mean just Fortuna. I think he’s promised something else too, something that belongs to her maybe.” She wrinkled her nose in her uncertainty. What did Fortuna have that the rest of them didn’t? Nothing of any value, that was certain. There was Uncle James Pimcock’s legacy, but that was nowt more than a few pebbles you could pick up on the beach and a distasteful lump of paste that had once been Aunt Hattie’s pride and joy.

  Mae sprang to her feet. “Well, I refuse to be glum. May I wear your taffeta bonnet?” Without waiting for a reply, she swished towards the door swaying her hips.

  * * * * *

  Fortuna heard the door creak, but paid it no regard, still cocooned in the hazy oblivion of sleep. It was only when the mattress sagged part way down the bed causing her to roll, that she allowed reality to intrude.

  “Alicia?”

  “Good morning, Miss Stay-a-bed,” a cheery voice greeted her.

  With an abrupt jerk, Fortuna scrambled into a sitting position to find Giles Dovecote perched next to her, holding a teacup aloft. Her adventures of the previous night came rushing back. She’d flown to freedom, but merciful lord! Why hadn’t she slept fully clothed? She fished below the covers and realized her petticoat had rucked up around her waist. Carefully, she tucked the bedclothes under her arms so that they pulled tight across her breasts and plastered her back against the headboard. She was hardly used to seeing herself naked, not even to bathe, let alone having him see her naked.

  “What are you doing?” she squeaked. The sheet seemed no concealment at all. The steepled hummocks of her nipples showed clearly through the cotton. She bit her lip, and willed them to go unnoticed.

  Giles continued to smile down at her. “Breakfast? I thought you might like it on a tray, since you hadn’t appeared.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You don’t mind if I join you?” He slid up the bed, until his back rested against the pillow beside her.

  “Um, is this appropriate?” She shuffled away from him, which unfortunately gave him room to lift his feet off the floor. “You promised to be a gentleman last night.”

  Giles reached over, grabbed the tray from the dressing table and positioned it on the bed. “I am being a gentleman. If I were being a cad I wouldn’t be waiting on you. I’d have just stripped back the covers.” He gave a worrisome little frown. “You’re not really going to send me away, are you? Damn! I’ve always wanted to attend one of those breakfast balls you ladies have. They sound far more interesting than the typical sort, all that flouncing about in your nightgowns and undergarments. I figured this would be similar. Just more intimate.”

  Fortuna gaped at him. If he’d come to her bed last night, she knew she’d have welcomed him, but daylight was a different matter, a time for sound reasoning, not rashly succumbing to fantasies, and she’d just woken. She needed a moment at least to steady her nerves.

  Dovecote’s brows quizzically furrowed. “What are you holding?”

  Fortuna glanced down, and gave an alarmed squeak. Tangled amongst the bedclothes lay the now misshapen candle she’d sought relief with last night. Instead of handing it over when Giles extended his hand for it, she thrust it out of sight beneath the covers.

  The action prompted a chuckle of amusement. “And to think, I thought you were innocent.”

  “I’m...” She shut her mouth.

  “I do believe that you’re blushing all over.” Giles hooked one fingertip over the edge of the sheet clamped to her chest and gave it a gentle tug. Fortuna clung to the covers extra tightly. All across her breasts and face her skin burned. She squirmed, her legs together, excited as well as nervous. She had to be certain this was the course of action she wished to take before she allowed him any more liberties. The fear that he would abandon her as soon as she succumbed still lingered, despite his reassurances.

  “Please. I really feel you ought to allow me to dress.”

  “Dullard.” He cuffed her lightly upon the shoulder. “Very well, Fortuna. If you insist. I brought you some things.” He hopped off the bed and lifted a pair of silky stockings, which he ran across the surface of his palm. “There’s also a dress and some bits and bobs, but nothing I’m looking forward to seeing as much as these.”

  “You’re not going to see them,” she said, determined to exert some control.

  Giles lay the items on top of the coverlet. “Am I not?” He frowned, but his eyes shone with mirth. “Will you not lift your skirt and show me them?”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  He moved so fast, his lips were pressed to hers before she’d had time to take a breath. He drew back again, brushing the hair from her cheeks. “The only thing that’s absurd is that I’m actually going to walk out in a moment and let you dress as per your request, rather than joining you in the bed.”

  Fortuna bit her lip. So, he was teasing her, but he was still sticking to his promise. Amidst the relief over that realization, she felt a pang of disappointment. Last night she’d craved the press of his body. Her dreams had been filled with him, his beautiful eyes staring down into hers as he filled her up. Her inner muscles clenched at the memory of his illusory staff. She’d slept deeply for the first night in weeks. His presence had crowded out the darker dreams of Sir Hector attempting to claim his conjugal rights.

  “Come down when you’re ready.” He patted her knee, and gave it a friendly squeeze. “Shout if you require assistance.”

  Fortuna struggled into her stays. Luckily, they were both short and front fastening else she’d never have managed. They didn’t sit entirely correctly, but the dress he’d brought was slightly big and hid the problem. She didn’t call Giles back to help, because while she did actually trust him just to do what he was asked, she didn’t entirely trust herself. The more she thought about it, the more she actually wanted to lie in his arms, but it was a big step and not without risk. Without his help and protection, she’d be forced to return home. She didn’t want to risk him losing interest because the chase was already won. Although, her heart wanted to believe his promises, and maybe allowing him his fun could be to her advantage. If he enjoyed her company, surely he’d want to keep her around.

  She found him in the drawing room reading a newspaper, having been pointed in the right direction by his man, Leach. If there were any other servants about the place, they were keeping themselves scarce. Fortuna nosily perused the invitations he had lined up along the mantelpiece. There were many more than the Allenthorpes typically received.

  “You’ll be pleased to know there are no reports of your disappearance in here.’ He folded the newspaper and threw it onto the sideboard. “And, so far no one has beaten a path to my door seeking you either. I think it reasonable to say that you’re safe for the moment, though Darleston and Neddy have gone out information gathering.” He joined her by the fireplace, and picked up the card she was tracing the embossed edging of. “I’ll have to attend some of these. I can’t drop from the scene entirely without raising suspicions.”

  “Tonight?” she
asked.

  “No, nor tomorrow.” He tossed the pretty invitation onto the smouldering coals in the grate. The card caught, and burst into flickering blue flames. Fortuna watched it curl into ash. Last night seemed fantastical now. Truly, had she watched Neddy and Lucy Darleston tumble before this very fireplace? What had possessed her to describe them in such detail to Lord Darleston? Heat crept into her cheeks again and on the pretence of desiring a breath of cool air, she sauntered towards the sash window that overlooked the street.

  Giles grasped her arm, and drew her towards a chair instead. “Stay away from the window,” he warned. “If you’re seen here, news of it will spread fast, and you’ll likely end up married to someone far worse than Macleane.”

  “A country cousin? I have none.”

  “Does anyone? I think they sprout like mushrooms, when required.”

  “Where are the twins?” Fortuna asked.

  Giles returned to the fireplace and heaped on another shovel full of coal. “They’re information gathering. Seeing if your absence is public knowledge yet. I expect they’ll talk to the countess, to find out if there was any sort of disruption after we left.”

  “Oh, Mother’s not the sort to cause a scene. I imagine she kept my absence very quiet, asked about discreetly, but she wouldn’t lapse into hysterics.” Although, she’d probably scorched holes in the furnishings once she’d arrived home, and raved at her poor father and all her sisters until dawn. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled to them under her breath. She wondered what they’d told Sir Hector when he’d arrived this morning, and if he’d accepted it with any more grace than he’d managed last night. Though what did it matter? Hopefully her absence would quell his ardour, and persuade him to look elsewhere for a wife. Within a week or two more folks would return to London, and there’d be plenty of fresh country girls to entice him. And she’d be free of him.