Portrait of a Scandal (3 page)

Yet, as he leaned against an old oak at this country garden party, one woman had captured his attention. Her soft but forthright voice caught his notice before anything else. Slowly, as her words registered, Thomas realised she was not a woman who held her tongue. The obvious rage in her heart at the lord’s blunt response—that only men held opinions of their own and not women—made him smile as her features moved into cold regard of the gentleman before her. Still, after a moment she smiled demurely and offered him luck with finding a bride, before she steered her chaperone away. If that was not a clear
‘I can do better than you’
, Thomas did not know what was.

Her chaperone was none other than Lord Kilbride, a friendly fellow and widower. Thomas knew him well from the House of Lords, but he could not place the woman on his arm. Was she his daughter or niece? It was clear she held deep affection for the older man, but she was too young to be anything other.

Pushing off from his vantage point under the tree, Thomas walked towards the couple as they took iced cakes from a server’s tray, so he would be able to hear their conversation.

“Nellie, was that really necessary?”

The woman, Nellie, smiled up at Lord Kilbride. “I believe I was polite when he told me to kindly shut my trap, Papa.”

Ahh, Lord Kilbride was her father. Thomas felt a pang of relief, but he pushed the foolish emotion aside.

The older lord frowned. “He did not say any such thing.”

“He implied it nonetheless. I will not even look twice at a man who thinks I am nothing more than a vessel to give him an heir. I would have thought you would wish more for me, also.”

Lord Kilbride sighed and patted her arm. “You know I wish for you what your mother and I had. While I hate to part with you, I want you settled, raising young of your own.”

She smiled softly up at him. “I know.”

Lord Kilbride looked over her shoulder as Thomas approached, offering him a broad smile as he always did. “Ah, Lord Sterling, what a pleasure,” the man said in greeting.

Thomas smiled and looked to the woman as she turned to face him. Her smile froze on her face as she stared at him. She blinked once and looked to her father.
How odd.
He was sure he had never met her, but she held recognition towards him, or so it seemed.

“Lord Kilbride, it is good to see you again also,” Thomas said.

“As it is you. This is my daughter, Lady Nellie. My dear, allow me to introduce you to the Marquess of Sterling.”

She lowered her eyes and curtseyed. “Lord Sterling, it is a pleasure,” she said, though her voice gave little confirmation of the words. She seemed rather unimpressed by him—disapproving, in fact. Again, how odd. He had never encountered that from a woman previously. He was accustomed to ladies fawning over him. This woman provided a breath of fresh air, a challenge, one he found he appreciated.

Her father gave her an odd look before he returned his attention to Thomas. “How is your father?”

“He is well, thank you, my Lord. He and mother spend their time at the family’s country estate for most of late. I fear my father still hates London.”

Lady Nellie offered a bland smile. “Oh, such a shame. Perhaps he feels the need to be around the calmness that the country offers, not in the hustle, bustle and illicit activity that takes place in London town. But I am sure you maintain a presence in town for your family, do you not, my Lord?”

Thomas held the distinct impression the woman had just insulted him and judging by the surprised look on her father’s face, he had indeed been on the receiving end of an offensive taunt. He felt himself wanting to smirk at her fortitude.

“I fear London does not hold the appeal for me that it once did, my Lady. I find myself growing up from the youth I no longer am.”

She narrowed her eyes slightly but said nothing.

Thomas looked into those deep blue eyes. He almost expected to see flecks of fire in them, but alas, he did not. She did, however, have fire in her soul. Her dark brown hair was pinned up under a wide-brimmed hat with feathers shifting in the breeze. Her dress was a soft cream with white trim lining the edges. Sunlight caught on the simple jewellery she wore, consisting of earrings and a necklace, although she did not need these things to make her beautiful. That was evident enough on its own.

Lord Kilbride cleared his throat. “Are you staying for the hunt tomorrow?” he asked, breaking the odd silence. “It is being held at our estate.”

Thomas gave a nod. “Yes, and thank you for the invitation. I must admit it has been a while since I have had the excuse to join a hunt. Are you participating?”

“Yes, both my daughter and I are. She is quite a skilled horsewoman, my Nel. Where are you staying while in the area? Have you taken lodgings with friends?”

“I am staying at the local pub. It seems to cater well for hunters.”

The older man beamed. “We cannot have that. You must come and stay with us at Fleurit Park. It will be a great pleasure for me to spend time with you. I must admit, while I do love my daughter’s company, I do miss bending the ear of a gentleman. Do you not agree Lord Sterling should come stay with us, Nel?”

Lady Nellie’s mouth lifted at the corners, while her eyes glared at Thomas. “Of course, my Lord. Father and I would gladly receive your company.”

Thomas grinned at her in return, well aware that the level of generosity in her offer did not match her father’s, but he found himself enjoying the moment immensely. “Well then, thank you. I would be a fool not to accept this kind offer.”

Lady Nellie’s lips pursed before she took a breath and offered a smile that looked forced.

His own smile broadened.

* * * *

“Are you well, my Lady?”

Nellie looked to Anne in the mirror of her dressing table and offered a smile. “I am fine.”

Anne frowned for a moment, clearly not convinced, but returned to pinning Nellie’s hair for dinner. “I must admit, the marquess is a handsome man, is he not? He smiled at me as we passed in the hall and I swear I almost swooned.”

Nellie’s eyes snapped back to her maid. “You passed him in the hall? Up here, in the family wing? Is he not staying in the west wing?”

“Oh, he is, my Lady. I passed him as he and your father entered the library.”

Nellie relaxed. The woman was loyal to a fault, but she also seemed naïve when it came to men and appearances. “Yes, I suppose he is a handsome man, but do not judge a man by his looks alone. A true gentleman is handsome on the inside as well as out.”

“Why, my Lady, do you speak of the marquess with disapproval? Has he been unkind to you in some way?”

“He has not,” Nellie admitted. In truth, the man had shown her a great deal of kindness. As she thought back to a time she had tried very hard to forget, Nellie realised he and the duke could have been very cruel to her and unmasked her in Carl’s office, yet they had not. He had taken her word when she’d promised to keep the matter of him and the duke’s daughter secret. The trust he had displayed in her, an unknown widow, was oddly humbling. She had kept her word regarding their secret to this day and she would continue to do so, yet she found it hard to warm to a man with such little respect towards women. “I have simply heard some less than flattering gossip about the man, that is all.”

“They may not be true. Gossip is often spread by those jealous or those who seek to gain from the other’s demise.”

Nellie chuckled and looked over her shoulder at her lady’s maid. “That sounded almost enlightened. Where do you find your moments of clarity, my dear Anne?”

The woman, who had grown up in the house and become a true friend of Nellie’s, blushed slightly at her words. “I simply do not think gossip should shape your opinion of the man. He could make a fine husband for you, my Lady.”

Nellie raised an eyebrow, thinking back to that night, the way he had bellowed rage at being discovered in the arms of the duke’s daughter. She remembered how she had watched him around other women at the garden party—chatting, smiling and being all-round charming to them—not forgetting the way his gaze had moved over her in an indecent manner. But more than that, how he had made—and still did make—her blood boil with lust and not anger.

What is wrong with me?

“No, my dear Anne, I do not believe that man will make a good husband.” For what woman would be able to contain him to her bed, and her bed alone?

* * * *

Dinner had been a pleasant enough affair, and while she was sure the cook’s food had been superb, Nellie could truthfully not recall what they had dined on. Her thoughts had focused on the marquess, regardless of her attempts not to.

The men stayed in the dining room for drinks while she’d claimed fatigue and had retired for the night. As she nestled into the softness of her mattress, Nellie could not seem to pull her thoughts from the charming and devilishly handsome man who had been sitting opposite her this evening. He had been witty and charming, even brushing off her attempts to be rude or hint at his lack of character. In truth, she knew he was aware of her attempts and it did not bother him—or at least, it did not seem to. What man had ever been unoffended by her unsubtle, if not brash, opinions? None, other than her father. Yet, this man did not appear offended. If anything, he seemed to encourage her.

Oh, yes, he was unsettling indeed!

Nellie struggled to sleep, fingering the soft linen around her. She could not rid her mind of the man. The man she had not seen since Carl’s office until today at the garden party, the man who had sent waves of mixed emotions flowing through her body, who now slept in her home. She rolled onto her back and wondered how this could have happened. What if he discovered it was she who had taken the photo of him and Lady Mary? That it had been her who had sold the photo to Carl for money?

Frowning at the draping bed canopy above, she wondered if all men truly sought in a woman was the comfort between their thighs. That, together with a willingness for the activity and a lack of morals. Lady Mary had not been wed or even betrothed when she had given up her virginity. Nellie was not naïve enough to think all women waited for their wedding day, but surely they should wait for the man they loved?

She sighed. She was frustrated and aroused. Having been told in church that lust was a sin, Nellie was sure she was destined for hell. Masturbation was the only thing that seemed to calm her nerves. The release of tension through pleasuring herself always settled her frantic wits.

Spreading her legs, Nellie lifted her knees and placed her hands under her nightclothes. Slowly inching her fingertips up her thigh, she found moisture had already started to pool in her slit. Her body craved release, and who was she not to oblige? Perhaps sleep would come once she’d relaxed?

Guiding her fingers through the springy curls guarding her entrance, Nellie placed a finger in her damp heat. Her fingers were cool from resting outside the covers and the sensation against her heated cunt was shockingly pleasurable. She trailed her finger down her slit, moving it around in the moisture that leaked from her core, before returning it to the area she knew would give her the most pleasure.

Shifting aside the fabric covering her breast with her other hand, she plucked at the nipple. It tightened instantly and a slight moan escaped her lips.

Massaging her breast, Nellie focused her attention on her cunt, rubbing her finger against the bud at the top. Her muscles tightened and she lifted her hips in rhythm with her strokes. Her tongue darted out of her mouth, running along her bottom lip as she imagined a man’s hands replacing hers. His firm and skilled fingers taking control of her body, his sure movements pulling her closer and closer to her peak.

Nellie imagined the marquess above her. His hungry groan as he took her lips passionately, gripping her breast in a quick and demanding pinch as he caressed her bud with his thumb and slid a single finger inside her. She tightened her thighs around her hand as she slipped a finger inside. Then it happened. Her pleasure exploded in a moment when the world seemed to stop as well as her breathing. Pure paradise! The fog clouding her vision slowly lifted and Nellie rolled over, snuggling into her pillow and pretending it was the man she had just imagined pleasuring her.

* * * *

Thomas stared out of the generous window of the guest room, the glow of the moon reflecting off the clear glass pane. His mind could not rest, regardless of the late hour.

There was something about the Lady Nellie. Her cool regard for him, her flowered insults, which smelt as sweet as a blooming rose, but were as biting and deadly as the Venus Flytrap his mother grew in her greenhouse. Nellie had displayed no shame or remorse when she’d delivered her sharp remarks and while Thomas had expected her father to reprimand her over her rudeness, he had not. The man had simply studied her with interest before he had turned his gaze towards Thomas. It was all rather strange, but quite enchanting. When was the last time a woman had held his interest, let alone his attention, as Lady Nellie did? He could not recall and therefore assumed none ever had.

He sighed and walked to the bed, then removed his robe and tossed it over the end as he settled into the cool sheets.

It had not been only her sharp tongue which had captured his attention. Her lush lips, firm-looking breasts and rounded hips had also snagged his avid interest. She had caught his perusal of those assets several times that evening. She had glared at him for his attention, yet he had also noted her breathing had changed, the heavy rise and fall of her breasts as if she had been lost for breath. Her cheeks had also heated and while her eyes had glared, they had also darkened. Was she as naïve as a maiden should be? Perhaps not, or so it was Thomas’ choice to hope.

With deliberation, Thomas slid his hands under the covers and found his already erect cock. He closed his eyes and thought of the blue fire of Lady Nellie’s gaze, her lush lips parting in a smile before she licked her bottom lip in anticipation for his rock-hard cock. He imagined her demure hands replacing his masculine ones, slowly stroking him, her caressing fingers sliding up and down the smooth flesh, rolling over the mushroom-like tip then gliding back down and repeating the action over and over again.