Three Times the Scandal (Georgian Rakehells)

by Madelynne Ellis

“Have you lain with Billy?” she asked, suddenly curious.

  Darleston bent his head so his mouth laid only a fraction away from hers.

  “Several of them, on several occasions, and sometimes more than one at a time.”

  An image of him lying nude and proud upon a bed surrounded by louche young men swam in her head. While one man rode his cock, he sucked upon the rod of another. Fortuna was acutely aware of her nipples steepling. The rise and fall of her breasts beneath her overlarge coat, surely hinted at what she truly was. She stared at Darleston, her lips parted. “Why?” she asked, not expecting him to answer.

  Darleston expressive lips curled into a smile. The glint in his eyes dazzled her. “The same reason anybody ever lies with any one else.” He closed in upon her, pushed her onto her back, a move that brought a hoot of approval from somewhere in the corridor.

  “I’d say look scared,” he whispered into her ear, “but you’re managing admirably. Everyone is apprehensive the first time.”

  His mobile lips met hers and it was every bit as good as it had been in the carriage, only now the bitter-sweet tang of debauchery on his breath was doubly real. He gripped her tight, sucking her down into a world of deceit and dark places, of unexplored vistas and depths of depravity she’d never imagined. Down into the depths of the bed he bore her too, now stripping off her coat.

  “Is it why you don’t get on with your wife?” she asked.

  “I don’t like my wife, because she’s a bitch. The marriage was not my choice.”

  Darleston’s weight pressed her into the mattress. He covered her so their bodies moved together in a perfect simulation of sex. Their hips nestled together. Had they really been both men, so too would’ve their cocks. She couldn’t envisage herself a cock, but she felt an ache inside that surely surpassed any pleasure a man felt. It was an emptiness, a raging desire to be filled. With only the smallest of wriggles, she had the long ridge of his staff, splitting the lips of her quim. It was but a promise yet. They were not skin against skin. The seam of her breeches prevented him pushing in deep. She clasped at his back, his shoulders, and the firm cheeks of his arse. Wished he were Giles.

  The thought conquered the explosion of lust. This was just a meeting of bodies, not even close to the same as she way she felt when she was with Giles. Meeting him had changed every aspect of her life. She’d questioned her morals and at the same time questioned his. Would he approve of this? Why couldn’t he have simply offered to run to Scotland with her?

  “Roll over.” Darleston’s command was a warm burr in her ear.

  “Is this going to hurt?”

  “Not if I’m doing it properly.”

  She rolled and hid her face against the sheets as he stripped her of her breeches. He left them tangled around her knees, while he released his own buttons. She didn’t see his cock before he was pressing it hard up against her bottom. Burning hot, iron hard yet velvet soft, he slipped into the channel between her cheeks. A low groan slid from her throat. There was a deadly lure about this, about him. She was tensed up, excited by the press of his cock, while her sensibilities railed at such perversity.

  “Downstairs they make do with spit, but I think we can allow ourselves a little honey.”

  He was a devil. There was no denying that.

  Darleston wrapped an arm around her hip and forcing a hand beneath her, found her quaint. His long fingers swept over her clitoris, the motion just as rough as if he’d been masturbating a cock. Fortuna moaned again. Her body arched towards him and the not so subtle press of his cock.

  His fingers slicked with her juices, he rubbed circles around her anus. The shocking press of his fingertip squeezing inside had her tearing at the bedspread. He slid backwards, and bent over her, bringing his lips to her bottom.

  Every hair on her body stood on end. Every nerve sang. The sensation was so intense it lay on the border between pleasure and pain. She squirmed, not sure if she was trying to get away from him or if she was begging for more. Yet this was wrong, so very wrong. It felt so much more wicked that having Giles and Neddy both in her bed. That at least was real. This was plain perversion built upon layers of deceit. But when Darleston’s tongue dipped into the channel between her cheeks and found the puckered entrance to her forbidden passage, she didn’t protest. Instead, she stuffed the covers into her mouth to muffle her squeals. The sensation was intense and delicious, and knowing that he intended to push his cock in there soon only heightened her enjoyment. In fevered anticipation, she awaited his pleasure. Would he go in deep and easy, smooth as silk as Giles did when he entered her puss? The pair she’d watched downstairs seemed to have taken a little longer to get comfortable.

  Once she was taking his finger happily right up to the joint he drew back again. The firm pressure of his cock against her anus still came as a shock, the head much wider than his fingertip. He kept pushing and pushing, increasing the pressure until her muscles relaxed and her body welcomed him inside just a fraction.

  Her little nubbin, hard as a bed, seemed to spark as he entered her, sending shivery waves of pleasure hurtling through her body.

  “Oh, God, it’s too much!”

  “It’ll come good in awhile. You just need to get used to it.”

  Get used to it. Never! Yet, her hips started rocking to his motion, meeting his downward thrusts with upward ones. He was right inside her now. All the way in.

  Her cheeks burned with pleasure and shame.

  The heat of her... Lord, he wished he could say that was all he wanted. She enchanted him, enthralled him. He didn’t understand it, but it was there, and he knew she’d didn’t feel the same. Yes, he intrigued her. Yes, she was writhing beneath him like the whore they’d all made of her, but her heart, her heart, like his, belonged to Giles.

  It’s good, he thought. That’s good. He wished his friend happiness. Wished him many things, in fact.

  Still, devil that he was, he didn’t regret for a moment the fact that he was the one enjoying her slender virgin arse. That knowledge alone heightened his senses. He drew back and watched himself slide into her bottom again. It was a truly magnificent site, watching her body swallow him, seeing her darkened skin stretched taut around his cock. He repeated the motion until he could no longer concentrate on maintaining such a slow paced assault and his instincts took over.

  The heat of her passage scorched him. He drove himself deeper, faster, while his fingers moved dexterously over her clitoris. She was sobbing into the coverlet, but her cries were those of passion not pain. She was pushing herself onto him, begging wordlessly for more.

  Darleston slapped a hand down across her cheek and watched the skin flush red. “God, you’re amazing,” he gasped, riding so close to the edge now. He knew the observers on the other side of the wall were likely tossing themselves, perhaps even enjoying the pleasant deed with each other.

  He covered her, nuzzled up tight to her back, and pressed a row of kisses to her shoulder blade. He sucked at the pulse point above, while their hips rose and fell. Just a few more thrusts and he really was going to explode. He felt her twitch beneath him and her breathing become doubly ragged. Hell, if she came too, that would certainly add an extra piquancy to the moment.

  Her body arched. She quaked beneath him, the muscles of her back passage clasping him tight in a rhythmic pull. Too much! He saw stars as his cock loosed its seed deep inside her, making the last few strokes of their coupling intolerably sweet. He had to hold himself still. Let the moment sweep over him.

  Darleston lay inside her until he’d completely softened and slipped out due to Nature’s accord. He kissed her bottom, then rolled onto his back on the bed beside her. She lay strangely quiet, her head rested upon her folded arms, so that much of her expression remained hidden.

  “Are you angry?” He stroked a hand through what remained of her flaxen hair.

  She hesitated, her lids lowered. “I’m not sure. I’m still not certain it’s the sort of thing one ought to enjoy.”


  “If it feels good, why not? And you can’t deny it felt good.”

  “I don’t deny it, but,” she rubbed her face against the sheets, “it’s against God’s law.”

  That just set him laughing. He couldn’t help it. Hell, what a time to suddenly involve Christ. He had little time for religious doctrine. That, in his opinion, was the province of gluttonous parsons and simpering maiden aunts. “So is indulging in any form of sex outside of wedlock, or for the purposes of anything other than procreation. You’ve been an awfully bad girl recently.”

  Fortuna frowned and tugged her breeches back over her bottom, a sight that just made him long to yank them down and take her again.

  “How will Giles find us?”

  He eyed her curiously. Her lip trembled. The emotions of what they’d just done were clearly catching up with her. He snuggled up close to her and threw his arm around her back. “I’ll send Ned a clue, nothing too specific, just in case it’s intercepted. There’ll be someone downstairs willing to take it.”

  “Why do they watch?” Her gazed strayed to the wall. The peepholes were virtually impossible to spot, and in fact she was gazing at entirely the wrong section.

  “The same reason you like to.” He rose from the bed and crossed to the washstand to make use of the jug and bowl. “It arouses them to watch others like themselves fuck. You should take pride in the fact that you’ve likely just given a number of men an enormous amount of pleasure.”

  “But will they expect to make free of me now?” Her eyes were the most beauteous azure blue.

  He considered her. She made for a rather effete and pretty young man. “There are a few who would try. Billy for instance, but they won’t come in here.”

  She joined him, and watched him perform his toilet with considerable interest. “I’ve never felt one soft,” she said.

  All cleaned up, Darleston stepped back and wordlessly gave her permission to touch. Her hand closed around him, warm and delicate. She sighed, squeezed, and then jerked her wrist away fast when he started to stiffen.

  “You’re not as big as Ned, you know.” He quirked an eyebrow, to which she responded by biting her lips.

  He did know. Had known it a good while.

  “But for the sake of my bottom, I’m glad.”

  * * * * *

  Once they were onto Oxford Street, Giles had John slow to a more typical pace so as not to attract unnecessary attention. They’d been a little longer than he’d intended, but he hoped they’d find Fortuna still abed waiting for their return. Giles breathed deeply and closed his eyes, picturing her sitting by the fire in his guest room. The room he now thought of as hers. He wasn’t sure what he’d tell her about tonight. Suggesting Macleane might contemplate murdering her was hardly going help her make a rational decision. He knew he couldn’t let her marry that man. They had to find another way of paying Macleane, assuming the man would take money. He had a feeling Macleane had specifically gone after the Star.

  “I’ve always thought my brother perverse, but I have to say you’re beating him hands down at the moment,” Neddy said, still poking at his bruised cheek. “Marry her, Giles and have done with. It’ll solve everything. I’ll even promise to hold you down while she hands over the Star of Fortune to Macleane to pay off her daddy’s debts.”

  “I’m not marrying her, Neddy. I’m not marrying anyone. Why is that so impossible to grasp?”

  Neddy gave him a thin smile and closed his eyes. “I know, I know, you believe in free love. We’ve all got it now, Giles. It’s just a shame you’re so blinded by it.”

  There was too much light as they turned into the square. The yellow-orange glow lit up the inside of the carriage. John stopped on the corner of the street some distance from the house. “There’s no getting any closer,” he called down when Giles stuck his head out of the window, only to be forced immediately back inside as another carriage came hurtling past and sprayed up great wave of slush.

  “Damnit, to hell! What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know, sir. A fire I think.”

  Giles leapt down from the carriage, and Neddy followed. They forced their way up the street through crowds of onlookers. As they neared the source of the commotion, Giles picked up the pace. His house… Smoke clouded the entire front face.

  He forced his way up the steps, horror-struck by the sight of buckets of snow and water being passed from man to man. Long flames licked at the inside of the drawing room window. The curtains were already consumed, and the glass panes sooty and cracked.

  “What the devil!” He charged past the man on the doorstep. “Leach. Leach. Where are you man?” There was no sign of his valet.

  A brutal metal vice seemed to close around his heart as he thought of Fortuna lying upstairs, her golden hair smoothed across the pillow beside her, as he and Neddy had left her less than two short hours ago. He forced his way through the chain of buckets and flew through the downstairs rooms. The fire itself seemed to be contained in the drawing room, although the paint in the hallway had bubbled and peeled. A section of architrave fell at his feet as he darted towards the stairs.

  Dense smoke choked the upper storey. “Fortuna,” he yelled, no longer caring who heard. He had to find her, ensure the flames hadn’t trapped her.

  Ned had followed him up, and pushed a kerchief into his hand. They took one side of the corridor each, and threw open every door, bellowing her name around the cloths clamped to their noses. Each shout met with silence.

  Giles sagged onto the bed in the guest room. His legs refused to take the strain of supporting him any longer. Nothing remained to suggest she’d ever been here.

  She’d gone.

  “Fortuna,” he sobbed, gutted.

  If she wasn’t in the house, and nor was Leach, where were they? Had he somehow missed them in the crowd outside in his eagerness to get in? What had happened here? Had Macleane found her? Had she simply returned home?

  “She wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye,” Neddy muttered, shaking his head. He started to cough, bringing up wads of sooty phlegm. “Giles, we have to get out of here. Someone must know what happened.”

  Neddy pulled him upright again.

  He didn’t want to leave without Fortuna. Giles retraced his steps, checked behind every door as they made their way back through the house again.

  A man stumbled from the drawing room, as they reached the bottom of the stairs, thinning black hair lay plastered to his ruddy scalp. “Dovecote?” he asked, blinking at them. Soot smears covered his arms, where he’d rolled back his shirtsleeves. “Is that you? Thank the Lord. I sent a boy over to try White’s and Brooks’s but nobody had a clue where you were. We couldn’t be sure you weren’t in here.”

  “Mr. Richardson.” Dovecote grasped his neighbour’s hand. “I’ve just arrived home. Tell me, my guest, where is she?”

  “Guest, eh?” Richardson’s fire-reddened face crinkled into a frown. “We only found Leach in the building. Poor fellow had been set upon and left to die. He was out cold due to the smoke. There was no one else.”

  Neddy held tight onto Giles’s shoulders. “Leach. Where is he now?”

  “Outside, outside.” Richardson ushered them towards the door. “Safer outside, though I think we have it contained.” Down the steps and into the street he pushed them, Giles resisting each step, but Neddy kept nudging him forward.

  “Richardson.” Giles came to an abrupt halt at the top of the steps. He turned deploringly to his neighbour. “My man, did he survive?”

  “Yes, yes, we pulled him out. He’s in my kitchen. Mrs. Richardson and cook are seeing he’s all right.”

  “Has he said what happened?”

  “Not a damn thing, so as I know. I told you, he was out cold. It was the noise that roused us. Mrs. Richardson’s sisters dined with us tonight and the ladies were enjoying some after dinner games when the most infernal banging started. I didn’t see the flames until I got over here. About to give you hell over disturbing
the charades, I was.” He paused and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a grubby handkerchief, which left more streaks of grime than it removed. “Your front door was wide, and I’d swear there’d been a scuffle. Hard to tell though, and of course the priority was the fire. I’m afraid the drawing room is in a poor way.”

  “Never mind the drawing room,” snapped Giles, nausea, fear and a murderous rage broiling beneath his skin. “A scuffle, you reckon.” Macleane’s thugs had come calling. He could think of no one else who’d be responsible.

  “Aye. As I said, your man, Leach has taken the brunt of it. Maybe it’d be best if you went in to see him.” He guided Giles towards his gate just a little further down the street. “Don’t worry about the blaze. We have it under control.” Richardson scuttled back to the bucket line and squeezed in part way along.

  “Macleane,” said Neddy. “This was no accident, Giles.”

  Giles simply nodded, and even that took considerable effort. Macleane had come for Fortuna and he hadn’t been there to protect her. What a fool he’d been, gallivanting off to look for loopholes in a will. He’d been clutching at straws all night. Macleane must have caught wind of the Allenthorpe girls’ visit. It had been foolish to stay here with her after that. He should have moved somewhere else with her, but he’d been living in a dream world, pretending reality wouldn’t intrude until he was ready for it.

  The bruise on Neddy’s cheek had grown livid. He patted Giles’s back. “Don’t let this eat you up yet. We don’t have the facts yet.”

  Leach was not in the Richardson’s kitchen. Instead, he lay propped up on a sofa in the family parlour. The local physician, Dr. Ashby, who practiced out of Curzon Street, was bent low over him, examining the contusions on his stomach, when Giles and Neddy entered.

  The doctor removed his spectacles before addressing Giles. “He’ll mend, providing he’s kept off his feet while the bones knit back together. He’s taken a severe beating. You’ll do well to reward him. He’s kept your valuables safe.”

  “Leach,” Giles leaned over his manservant. In addition to his cracked ribs, one eye was so badly bruised it resembled a split ripe plum. Leach squinted up at his master, and tried to rise.