Three Times the Scandal (Georgian Rakehells)

by Madelynne Ellis

  Chapter Nine

  Alicia had barely slept a wink. She’d tossed and turned only to fall into horrid dreams in which she ran along the landing of Dovecote’s house, throwing open doors in search of her sister. Behind each she found Fortuna lewdly posed, or else entwined in the arms of a faceless man. Yet she would gladly have endured a thousand nightmares in exchange for one single reassurance that her sister was safe.

  It was just shy of four o’ clock when the sounded of urgent banging jogged her nodding head upright. Alicia squinted at the small mantle clock in her room. It was still too early for even the servants to be abroad, and they were always unerringly quiet, whereas the current noise seemed to make the very floor vibrate.

  Swathed in a billowing nightgown and Fortuna’s best shawl, with which she’d been sleeping, she scurried down the stairs. Her father’s valet stood yawning in the hall as he brushed the snow from a recently shrugged off coat. “Pearce?” she asked. He nodded towards the study, where a faint glow of light spilled from beneath the door.

  Alicia knocked. “Father, may I come in?” Not waiting for a reply, she inched the door open, and peeked around the wood. Mr. Allenthorpe lay slumped face down before the hearth. With a yelp, Alicia threw the door wide and ran to him. “Father, Father, are you well?” On her knees beside him, she pressed a hand to his shoulder.

  Mr. Allenthorpe groaned and slowly raised his head, before pushing himself onto his knees. His cheeks were florid and a vicious raised welt stretched across his brow over his left eye. “I stumbled, that’s all. The fire has gone out.”

  “It’s late, father. Oughtn’t you to retire?” She leaned in closer to assess the extent of the hurt with her fingers, but the stench of spirits on his breath made her recoil.

  “I’m not for bed yet.” He flapped an arm towards his favourite chair.

  Alicia helped him to it.

  “Thought it was worthless,” he mumbled. “Sarah’s always said it was.”

  The mention of her mother by her Christian name turned Alicia’s head, used as she was to hearing her addressed as Mrs. Allenthorpe, or your mama. “What have you lost, Father?”

  “Been a fool…Fortuna…It’s my fault.” He waggled his head in an ungainly nod. “It’s real, you see. Didn’t know it until too late…should have realized Hector’s interest was suspicious.”

  Alicia squeezed his clammy palm. The reassurance did nothing to ease the tension in his limbs, nor did it help focus his rheumy gaze. “I don’t understand, Father.”

  He nodded sagely, as if that were only to be expected. “A worthless bauble I could have negotiated a price for, but not for that ghastly thing... It’s more than I could ever raise—a king’s ransom. Though I doubt ol' Georgie has the funds for it either. Stupid doddering old…” He continued to sway his head, as he muttered further self-remonstrations. “Can’t even hand it over to the irksome bugger to be free of him. Just like James to add a whole deal of nonsense to the terms.”

  Her father never spoke like this. Never. He was always polite, taciturn. Alicia swallowed the hard lump of panic forming in her throat and bit her knuckle. “You’re talking about Sir Hector and Fortuna, aren’t you?” she whispered.

  Her father’s watery eyes settled upon her and became curiously focused. “She has to marry him, you see.” His gaze pinned her. “We’re all ruined otherwise. Macleane will take everything. He wants the Star, you see, but he can’t have one without the other.”

  The Star of Fortune, her uncle’s obsession come back to haunt them. Shocked into motion, Alicia fled to the sideboard where a selection of crystal decanters lay. She seized the first and swigged a measure of it. It burned all the way down her gullet. Merciful God, if what he was saying was true, they would all have to seek positions. She shuddered, thinking of the little ones. But perhaps her eldest sister Sarah would take them in, or Aunt Beatrice. “Fortuna, where are you?” she gasped, still clinging to the crystal neck of the decanter. “Don’t be married.” If she’d truly run off with some unsuitable rakehell, then the rogue was unlikely to hand over some unforeseen treasure. She spun back towards her father. “Will the Vicomte not help?”

  Mr. Allenthorpe shook his head. He looked old all of a sudden, worn thin with drink and worry. “François is not so well off as he once was despite appearances, and even if he were, his price would be too high. I won’t barter another child’s future. Bad enough to do so once.”

  Alicia clenched her fists. “I would willingly marry the Vicomte if it would help.”

  To her shock, her father began to laugh. Fat tears rolled across his florid cheeks. “Come here, child, and bring some of that rum you’re helping yourself to.”

  She did so, having poured some of the dark brown liquid into a glass for him.

  “Truly that is a magnanimous offer.” He patted her hand. “Alas it’s not you the Vicomte desires.”

  “The others would do the same.”

  He shook his head. “Forget seeking the Vicomte’s assistance. Our only hope is in finding your sister still unwed. Macleane must have her, and then everything will be right.” He nodded and pushed himself upright. “I’ll take me to bed now, Alicia. Goodnight.”

  * * * * *

  Giles squinted at the newsprint, having failed for the fourth successive attempt to reach beyond the third paragraph of the account of the last parliamentary session. Across the room Fortuna was pacing. She’d been restless from the moment she’d woken and he couldn’t soothe her, nor could he bring himself to tell her of her father’s betrayal.

  “Are you sure?” she’d asked him repeatedly.

  She still hadn’t entirely accepted that the Star of Fortune was real, and not some sentimental keepsake given to her by a man she hardly knew. He wondered if she’d ever believe without the written testament of an expert jeweller. Macleane evidently believed. He wondered if he’d known prior to winning it. It wasn’t too far fetched to suppose he might have been in contact with James Pimcock, given their mutual interest in lapidary. “Fortuna, would you like some tea?”

  “Mm, thank you.” She gave a distracted little nodded. She’d dressed in an old chemise dress of his sister’s, and tied a broad blue ribbon beneath her breasts. It made her look ethereal, maybe even a little too ghostly.

  Giles cast aside his paper and rang for Leach. However, it was Neddy who bounded through the door a moment later, rather than his man. He kissed Fortuna in greeting then hurried over to Giles to whisper conspiratorially, “Darleston’s taken over again. He’s keeping tabs at Brooks’s.” Giles had already received an earlier note from Darleston, informing him that Mr. Allenthorpe had spent most of the night at the card tables again, and that he and Neddy were going to keep tabs on him and the other Allenthorpes. Clearly, Darleston anticipated trouble, and Giles knew him well enough to trust his instincts. Besides, after the surprise visit from Fortuna’s sisters the day before, it made sense to keep track of their movements. If any of them headed this way again looking for Fortuna, he wanted to know well in advance.

  Leach finally arrived, already balancing a tea tray, having clearly anticipated the request.

  “Three in mine.” Neddy balanced his brocade-encased rear on the slender arm of the sofa Fortuna had retired to, one leg hooked upwards to display the long lean stretch of his inner thigh. “Unless anyone has another method of keeping me sweet?”

  Giles shoved Neddy off his perch and slid into the space beside Fortuna. Despite having been dragged home by his brother the previous evening, Neddy seemed just as determined as ever to wheedle his way back into bed with them. He waggled his eyebrows at Giles, then squeezed onto the upholstery on the other side of Fortuna, so she was neatly sandwiched between them.

  “I had dinner with De Maresi last night. It seems he’s taken a new place on Little Brook Street.”

  Fortuna stiffened between them. She peeped up at Neddy, her eyes bright and alert. Vicomte de Maresi had been the Allenthorpe’s long term house guest. “He’s not fallen out with
Father, has he?”

  Neddy’s auburn hair framed his narrow-face. “I don’t believe so.” He licked his lips and took the cup Giles had poured for him. “Probably just wanted to some space. A man likes to have his own domain.”

  “Oh, he had his own sitting room.” Her brows further wrinkled.

  “Yes, but that’s not quite the same.” What Neddy was failing to say was that Macleane was currently occupying space in the family home from dawn until dusk most days under the pretext of finding his fiancée, who was, of course, still officially bedridden and not missing. “Of course, this move of his might prove beneficial.”

  “Why?” Giles interjected.

  “He’s under no obligation to hold his tongue. Indeed, he isn’t holding it. He happened to mention over last night’s mutton that a certain person’s illness was not all it seemed.”

  “He told you I was missing?” Fortuna turned to face Neddy, leaving Giles with a view of her narrow back.

  “Essentially, yes.”

  “Then soon everyone will know.” Delight infused her words.

  Giles rested his fingers lightly upon her arm. “It will make hiding you here more difficult. There’ll be plenty of speculation on where you are and who you are with, and some who will attempt to find you for their own amusement. Nor does it mean Macleane will retract his suit. Laying claim to that gem of yours will more than make up for tying himself to an unchaste bride.”

  “No.” Fortuna rose from between them and skipped around the occasional table, feeling light-hearted now that some of the threat had been lifted. “He’ll hate being ridiculed. The gem won’t make up for the loss of face. He’ll find someone else. There are plenty of other heiresses.” She took both him and Neddy by the hand, and squeezed their fingers, before dancing away, light as a feather.

  Giles desperately wished it were that simple.

  Neddy gave him a wary look. “You didn’t tell her,” he hissed.

  Giles bowed his head to avoid Neddy’s gaze. He hadn’t the heart to destroy her hope. “We don’t know anything for certain until we’ve read the will and seen the stone.”

  “That’s not the opinion Robert said you had last night. And what about the debt?”

  “Shhh! We have to give her a reason to believe things will work out. If she hears that she’ll despair and run home. I’ve seen enough fretting this morning already. Let’s us see if we can deal with it first.”

  “Pay him off, you mean?”

  “Aye, maybe.” Between them they might be able to raise enough. It all depended on how much the Star of Fortune was actually worth. And even then negotiations would still be difficult, and they’d have to use a trusted go-between.

  * * * * *

  “What are you two whispering about?” Fortuna faced the two men, her hands clasped before her, a smile stretching her lips.

  “We were discussing a game.” Giles came towards her, his expression soulful and brimming with heart-warming tenderness. It was madness, but whenever she looked at him now, her heart gave a fanciful little thump that was echoed in her cunny a moment later. “Something you might like to play.”

  Something fun, she didn’t doubt.

  “Blind-man’s-buff.” Neddy began unwinding his cravat from his throat. The pale brocade of his breeches still pulled taut against his thighs, reminding her of how good he looked naked.

  “The children’s game?” Fortuna laughed.

  “With a few minor modifications to the rules.” His eyes twinkled as he came towards her holding the cravat. Perhaps mentally undressing her, as she was them—Neddy, so lean and wiry, with his powerful shoulders and tapering waist, and Giles, beautiful, seductive Giles, with his curiously tactile smattering of fur upon his chest. How she loved to nuzzle against it and work her fingers through the sparse hairs that led in a line down to his naval and beyond to where his cock lay hugging his stomach, weeping its pearls in anticipation of her touch.

  She’d tasted him, supped down his seed, traced her tongue across the sensitive fuzzy skin of his ballocks, and even once licked at the dark puckered ring of his anus. Giles hadn’t stopped her. He’d groaned in delight, but she hadn’t the nerve to explore that avenue any deeper, nor had she allowed him to penetrate her in such a way. Not yet. Her confidence was growing with every encounter. She trusted these men. Knew they would only ever bring her pleasure, but she was still new to this compared to their vast experience.

  “What do you say?”

  “Why is it I’m to be it?”

  “Because, I’ve no wish to catch Giles, or he me.” He covered her eyes.

  The soft cloth clove to her features completely depriving Fortuna of her vision, leaving her other senses unnaturally heightened. The room seemed filled with sounds, the tick of the mantle clock, the cracks and whistles of the burning logs, the breathing of the two men, and the rustle of her dress when she lifted her hands to her face.

  “Aa-ah! No peeking.”

  One of the men, Giles she thought, took her by the hands and led her forwards away from the furniture. He smelled warm and musky. A trace of tea lingered on his breath. “We can send Ned home if you wish.”

  “No you bloody well can’t,” said the younger Darleston, his words a warm burr against her ear. She jumped at his closeness. “The game doesn’t work so well with only two, and it’s my cravat we’re using.”

  “I’d like him to stay, Giles.”

  “Whatever makes you happy.”

  Was that a tremor of disappointment in his voice?

  “What are the rules?”

  “If you catch us we forfeit an item of our attire, and win a kiss. If we tag you, you forfeit an item of yours and receive a kiss.”

  They pecked her, one on either cheek, “For luck.” And spun her around.

  * * * * *

  His great coat collar pulled up to his ear, Lord Darleston pounded over the wooden boards lain down to provide a bridge across the sea of brown slush not far from St James’s Square. The snow had finally begun to thaw, but this evening a thick fog had rolled in off the Thames, transforming the early twilight into an almost impenetrable soup. Ever since the unanticipated visit from Fortuna’s sisters, he, Giles and Neddy had been taking turns to keep tabs on the Allenthorpes’ movements. He’d been up all night the previous night, shadowing Mr. Allenthorpe’s sojourn at Brooks’s card tables. Then he’d taken over from Neddy an hour ago to follow Gabriel Allenthorpe home.

  Quite aside from Fortuna’s flight, the Allenthorpes, on close observation, were not faring well. The father’s gambling habits were escalating with a degree of urgency that was set to ruin them in a very short time, regardless of any ill-intent on the part of Macleane. Fortuna was still blind to the situation. He and Giles had been over the subject again and again, but his friend was far too enamoured of her to risk losing her. If presented with the facts, Giles was sure Fortuna would hurry home and dutifully bind herself to Macleane. Her family was important to her. She wouldn’t see them suffer. Thus, that left him with the dilemma of finding a way to appease Macleane without delivering Fortuna to him.

  The first step in that procedure seemed to necessitate seeing Mr. Pimcock’s will. So far, they’d only just located the solicitor’s office.

  Darleston looked up on reaching a corner to grasp his bearings, only to realize he’d lost the damn boy. “Piss,” he hissed through is teeth. Straight on would make most sense, but a scuffle from the direction of the alleyway made him retrace his steps. Through the gloom, three hulking shapes lurched into sight. Cautiously, Darleston stepped forward into the frozen passageway, silently readying his walking stick. Even then, the odds were against him.

  “Huh!” The thump of knuckles connecting with soft tissue briefly split the air.

  Darleston slid closer, both thankful for the concealment of the mist and cursing it for his inability to tell if there were more thugs lurking in the shadows beyond the three that huddled around Gabriel.

  “It’s time to cough it up,” sa
id the skinniest of the three brutes, a diminutive man with thin straggly hair and a beard to match.

  “I don’t have it. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Gabriel replied.

  “Well that’s too bad. Hit him.”

  The two other brutes both ploughed meaty fists into Gabriel’s stomach, knocking the air from him. He sagged against the wall, but found his feet quickly.

  “Again,” said the ringleader. “And aim for his face.”

  The sound alone was sickening, a grisly slap of flesh upon flesh. Darleston felt himself moving before his brain had caught up with the reaction. He swung the stick in a wide arc. It whipped through the air, cleaving the mist, and caught both the largest thug and his neighbour across the back. The sound of the impact, of surprise and pain left him swaying nervously. He knew how to wield a weapon, but blood sports had never been his thing. Let others draw pistols and fire at each other at dawn, and let Neddy climb into a boxing ring and square-off. He wasn’t so enamoured of his possessions to risk his life for them. Yet, here he was, risking everything to save a boy he barely knew.

  Gabriel’s blond hair shone in the hazy light. His skin was beyond pale, his blue eyes wide and lamp like. They were alike, he and Fortuna, Darleston thought.

  The smaller man crumpled. The brute swung around leasing a bellow of outrage.

  Seizing the moment, Gabriel kicked the third man in the cobs.

  “That’s it,” Darleston snarled as he side-stepped to avoid an incoming fist. Damnit the man wasn’t about to give in easily.

  “Stupid nob,” mumbled the giant, around his mouthful of broken, discoloured teeth. Up close he smelled like a fish market. “Didn’t have no fight with you. Ain’t wise to interfere in other folks’ business.”

  “Another step and I’ll send you to hell.” Darleston held his stick before him as a barrier.