Three Times the Scandal (Georgian Rakehells)

by Madelynne Ellis

* * * * *

  “Queen Seraphina has arrived, and Billy’s gearing up for a bit of a performance,” Darleston told Fortuna when he returned to the room.

  Concerned by Giles’s continued absence, Fortuna nevertheless allowed Darleston to lead her back downstairs. In their absence the parlour had been transformed, so that an enormous gilt picture frame, swathed on either side by yards of patterned brocade, stood where the chaise longue had been.

  Queen Seraphina turned out to be a man of around her father’s age. He sat at the harpsichord, entertaining the room’s occupants with a jaunty tune. Fortuna eyed him curiously, intrigued by his rather eccentric costume. He wore a mid-blue coat of satin, cut with a full skirt that fell well below his knees, as though it were a shortened gown. An old-fashioned Steinkirk graced his throat and fell in a frothy cascade over his bare chest. With his white hair, and numerous jewelled rings, he was quite the most fantastical thing she’d ever seen.

  Darleston allowed her a moment to stare, then nudged her towards a loveseat nestled in a shadowy corner. He sat first and pulled her onto his lap. “The closer we stay, the less attention you’ll attract. The last thing we want is some sop reaching for your cock only to find you haven’t one.”

  Fortuna accepted the arrangement. She had no intention of letting anyone else get close to her.

  Billy, or Miss Kitty, as he had now become, appeared within the gilt frame dressed in a simple chemise de reine bound with a red silk sash. He sang merrily to himself in a high-pitched imitation of a woman’s voice, the ditty so extremely rude, Fortuna longed to fan away her blushes of shame. The whispered drawing room gossip she’d heard didn’t encompass the half of what truly went on in the world. What curious entertainment gentlemen provided for one another. It was no wonder most assembly balls bored them. They were dire tedium compared to this.

  When the song ended, another gent joined Miss Kitty in the gilt frame. A rogue, Fortuna guessed, by his air of deadly calm and his fine clothes. A pelisse draped one shoulder, though his best feature was surely his long taut thighs, encased in buttery nankeen pantaloons.

  Queen Seraphina began a merry tune.

  “Ah, Miss Kitty,” the rogue said, as she scooped up a basket full of pastries. “Won’t you stop and share your wares with me?” His arm stretched out to pluck a delicacy, some manner of tart, from the basket.

  “Fie, sir!” Miss Kitty swiped at him. “You mustn’t touch. These are for my mistress.”

  “Are they indeed, girl,” replied the rogue. He took a bite, and wiped the cream from his lips by drawing together his thumb and index finger, an act Fortuna thought seemed far lewder than it ought. He savoured the last morsel by sucking his thumb tip. “Your mistress always comes by the finest tarts. It hardly seems fair. I think she might share this once.”

  “No, you mustn’t.” Miss Kitty’s dark eyes went wide and she stretched out to steal back the tart, only for the rogue’s hand to close about her wrist. He held her trapped and pulled her back against his body, while his lips moved to press teasing kisses to her inner wrist.

  “Nay, sir, stop it!” Miss Kitty cried. “You are a devil and a cad. How can you serve me so? I swear I will cry if you don’t release me.”

  “Oh, quit your hollering, girl,” swore the rogue, as he rocked his loins against her bottom. “Admit the truth that you’re slick with need and desperate for a thick prick to fill your tight hole.”

  Fortuna gasped along with the rest of the audience, although she doubted they were truly shocked, just getting into the spirit of the performance. Her gaze briefly swept the room. There were only ten spectators, but of those men, several were already paying their groins much attention. Fortuna hastily averted her gaze and returned her attention to Miss Kitty.

  “Tight I may be, for I am a pure and good girl, but slick most definitely not. You dishonour me, sir. Now release my hand.”

  “I think not, Miss Kitty.” The rogue raised his dark brows, and turned her beneath his arm as though they were dancing. “For I do mean to taste all your fine wares.”

  “You’ll taste nothing of me. What a disgusting thing to say.” Her arm freed of the rogue’s grasp, Miss Kitty flew from him, running in and out of the picture frame, and then along the front of the makeshift stage.

  Then one by one the performers blew out the candles around the room’s perimeter, until only two flaming sconces remained, creating a pool of light within the frame.

  With the advent of darkness, also came an increased whispering noise of fabric sliding upon fabric.

  Fortuna felt the heightened sense of anticipation in her breasts. Her nipples tingled, and her skin came alive to every whisper of Darleston’s breath. She stiffened slightly as he slid one hand across the top of her thigh and down between her legs to cup her mound.

  The chase over, Miss Kitty, lay over a padded stool in the centre of the gilt-frame, with her face to the audience and her bottom pushed high. The rogue appeared again and threw up her skirts. “Why Miss Kitty, your bottom is like a luscious peach,” he murmured as he kneaded the soft swell with one hand and unbuttoned his pantaloons with the other. His trews fell to his knees, revealing a stiff ruddy staff, which already glistened with the sheen of his seed. “I do not doubt that your cunny is equally delicious.”

  Kitty moaned and wriggled in delight. “Sir, I’m unplucked. You should unhand me unless you’ll wed me to have your way.”

  “Wed you, indeed. What a ridiculous notion.” The rogue’s voice grew hoarse with laughter. He pressed a hand between her thighs and forced them wide about. Just then his mouth fell open. “Good Lord! Dear Miss Kitty, what’s this? You have a cock!”

  The audience roared with laughter at the rogue’s mocked surprise. He pressed the back of his hand to his brow as if quite overcome by the discovery, while Miss Kitty merely rolled her eyes. When the laughter continued a fraction too long, she thrust her bottom back against the rogue’s loins. “Aye, it’s true, sir. Now, will you unhand me, you filthy bugger?”

  The audience took a shared breath.

  “Why no, me dear. I’m standing at the ready. I’ll think I’ll simply split your rump instead.”

  “Do it!” a voice in the audience cried.

  “M’dear, you heard him,” sighed the rogue. He spit onto his fingers and then rubbed the saliva between Miss Kitty’s cheeks.

  Fortuna edged forward on Darleston’s lap. She’d been on the receiving end of this so recently that each touch seemed to awaken a memory. Her body grew moist and ready. Hands clasped tight, she pressed her thumb between her teeth, her breathing becoming flighty as the rogue lodged his cock-head against Miss Kitty’s forbidden hole.

  She gasped, startled, feeling again the bitter-sweet rush of pleasure she’d experienced as Darleston entered her. Around the room, pleasure-hungry men hung on Billy’s every whimper. They pumped their cocks to the rhythm of his gasps. Fortuna curled her fingers over her mound and squeezed her puss through her breeches. The pressure made her jolt, but she wanted more, wanted to feel the same joyous, exhilarating ride as the rest of the room. Only Darleston’s hands remained perfectly still.

  Kitty’s cheeks flushed. His eyelids half-closed over molten chocolate-coloured eyes. His lips plumped and opened invitingly as he cried out. The audience hung on his every whimper, while their hands moved ever more rapidly against their own cocks.

  Fortuna wriggled her fingers inside the front-fall of her breeches, wishing Darleston would put his hands on her breasts and squeeze her aching nipples. She wanted to feel lips against her neck and the press of skin against her own, not just this isolated, swift and sticky slide of her own fingers. She shuffled herself back against Darleston’s body and enjoyed the hard press of his cock against her bottom. Still he kept his grip firmly upon her waist, no lower, and no higher.

  “Five guineas to see you come over his backside,” one spectator called.

  The rogue, never missing a beat, slowly nodded. He continued to plough Miss Kitty’s rear with
long firm strokes until his own breaths grew ragged and shivers chased up and down his limbs. Then, he slowly withdrew his cock and lovingly played his own hands along its length, stroking it with measured precision. Harder and harder he drove himself. Sweat beaded upon his brow. Faster and faster, until Fortuna thought she would scream with frustration. Darleston held her, as she staved off her release so that she could come simultaneously with the rogue.

  Finally, his seed began to jet. It spurted from him and splashed across Miss Kitty’s creamy backside. Fortuna shuddered as she watched his climax. She’d never seen a man come like that, had never watched his body give up its gift. It was curiously mesmerizing. She thought of Giles, and how she would ask him if he’d perform for her like that. They’d sit before the fireside and she’d watch the play of his fingers dance upon his shaft, noting each nuance. And she’d watch his face, his expressions. Maybe he’d ask to watch her in turn, and she saw herself then, her skirts drawn high and her legs spread wide, petting her nub for his entertainment.

  Dark ecstasy poured through her and ripped a cry from her throat. She jerked upon Darleston’s lap, momentarily oblivious to the room’s other occupants, as the climax tingled in her fingers and nose. Slowly, lethargically, she came down.

  “You bastard!” The familiar voice brushed away the last clinging tendrils of her orgasm.

  Darleston tipped her sideways off his lap and she landed with a soft thump on the cushioned seat. Giles stood by the parlour door. His face lay in shadow, but his emerald eyes glittered with intense rage.

  * * * * *

  Numerous pairs of eyes turned in Giles’s direction. Giles ignored them and pushed towards the corner in which Fortuna and Darleston sat. Only on seeing her up close did his brain digest the changes a few hours had wrought on her appearance. Her once glorious flaxen hair now clung to her cheekbones. A long fringe masked her brow, and also shadowed her eyes. Overly large male clothing swamped her narrow frame, giving her the gangly appearance of youth. Still he couldn’t imagine how the other patrons failed to see her for what she was, clearly a woman.

  Fortuna jumped up in delight as he drew near, and clasped her warm fragrant body to his. The greeting did little to assuage his temper. “Darleston,” he growled through teeth clenched so tightly his injured jaw throbbed with the effort. “How could you bring her here? Let her see this?” He swept out a hand so as to encompass the room. “What a place to bring her.” Although, here she was, having apparently enjoyed the show if the scent of her arousal and the apple-blossom flush in her cheeks were anything to go by.

  Darleston rose, he met Giles’s accusation without flinching. His smoky-grey eyes held no remorse or hint of apology. “Would you rather I’d left her for Macleane to find?”

  “No one needs to see men fucking one another, particularly a lady,” Giles yelled.

  “Lady!” A tremor ran through the room, echoing the surprise of the first voice.

  “Good God, Darleston’s brought a filly in here,” someone cried. Panic ensued; men torn between their love of novelty and gossip and fear of being exposed jostled and shoved one another. Several slipped quietly away.

  “Giles,” Darleston’s crisp tones cut through the madness. “Surely the important point is that she is safe.”

  “There’s no excuse for bringing her to this pit of depravity.” Giles said, finding his friend’s calm poise unbearably maddening. He wanted to yell, scream at all the injustice this night had brought him.

  “It’s the safest place I could think of. Who would even think to come looking for her here? Make no mistake, Macleane and his toadies would have torn off the door of any other establishment in which I’d hidden her.”

  Deep down Giles knew that to be true, but rationality had fled, blown away by trauma and fears.

  “Interesting friends you keep, milord,” murmured the recently sodomized youth. He pressed a finger to his hairless chin and elbows folded considered them each in turn a beaming smile upon his face. The scar across his lip pulled tight by his merriment gave his a dangerous mien. “I can’t believe you never told us there was two of you,” he said to Darleston, glancing between him and Neddy. “Suppose that might make up for them disrupting the show, if you were to take to the stage together. Is his pizzle as long as yours?”

  “Billy!” a white-haired gent, in the fashion of the last century bustled forward from behind the harpsichord.

  “Giles,” Fortuna soothed. She curled her hand around his lower arm. “I agreed to come here. I’m fine. Lord Darleston’s kept me safe, and now you’re here. Have you learned anything helpful?” She peeped up at him from beneath her new fringe, eyes full of hope.

  He had nothing to give her. No ray of sunshine to banish her woes. “His damn fool actions likely placed you in danger in the first place,” he bellowed. He shrugged off Fortuna’s grasp, and taking Darleston by surprise, barrelled him up against the nearby wall, causing Billy to give a whoop of delight.

  Eyes as grey as fog, Darleston met his attack with still more insufferable calm.

  “The truth. Did you provoke Lucy into betraying Fortuna to Macleane?”

  Darleston drew his teeth over his sensual lower lip. “What does it matter how Macleane came to know? The important point is that he has not yet claimed Fortuna.”

  “It matters because my house is a damned wreck and Pimcock’s will is watertight. You had the whole of London within your means, and you chose a molly house.” He shook his head, as further details of the night’s events came bubbling out. He wanted to rage, hurt someone, lay the blame for all the disasters at someone else’s feet, and pretend he had no responsibility for any of it. Of course, he was solely responsible, but he couldn’t fix any of it.

  “Ugh!” spewed Billy, at that moment, his attention riveted upon Fortuna as if a revelation had suddenly struck. “Oh, Christ!” He wiped his hands down his frock. “I let Harrison do me while we watched you fuck. I was going see if he’d let me fuck you once he’d finished.” He nodded towards Darleston. “He sometimes lets me, cause he likes to sit and watch.”

  Giles jerked Darleston by the lapels. “What did you do to her?”

  Neddy put a hand upon Giles’s shoulder, and tried to ease him off his twin. “Giles, what does it matter if she consented?”

  “He didn’t hurt me,” Fortuna interjected.

  “No.” Giles shrugged off Neddy’s grasp. “I want to know what he did.” His gaze swept to Billy, then Darleston. The boy had clearly been allowed to watch, a titbit of fact that stung just as much as the idea that his friend had been intimate with Fortuna whilst supposedly protecting her. “Tell me,” he growled into Darleston’s face.

  “I fucked her in the arse, Giles. Does it make you feel better to know?”

  Giles didn’t hear past the second word. He slammed his fist into Darleston’s stomach. An acute wave of satisfaction filled him as his friend doubled.

  “Neddy, please stop him.” Fortuna’s shrill plea pierced the shocked silence.

  Darleston slowly straightened himself. He met Giles’s gaze, his grey eyes glittering, the pupils awash with unfathomable emotions. “Any more?” he enquired.

  Giles split his lip.

  “That’s enough.” Neddy muscled his way between them, and forced them apart, a palm pressed to each of their chests. “I’ve seen enough violence for one evening. Bickering among ourselves won’t help solve anything.”

  Giles squirmed against the press of Neddy’s palm, his anger still swollen, and not yet peaked.

  “Giles, let up, or I swear I’ll knock you out. What Fortuna has consented to do with each of us is irrelevant at this moment. What is important is that we find a solution to her problem, and quickly.”

  Just after Emily’s death, Giles had faced off against Neddy in a fight at Gentleman Jackson’s. He’d been so full of rage. He’d wanted to work some of that feeling off, mask one form of pain with another. Ned had only hit him once. Even with mufflers over his knuckles, the punch had lef
t Giles with an earache and sore chin for a week. He certainly hadn’t felt like trying that method of pressure release again.

  The tension drained from Giles’s limbs. Limply, he sagged onto the loveseat. Too many things had happened in too short a time. Fortuna came and sat beside him so that their knees touched. I want you to run away with me, he thought, remembering when he’d first made that offer only a week ago. It already felt as if he’d spent a lifetime loving her.

  “Giles,” she began, taking his hand in hers and massaging her thumb across his knuckles. “Unless you’ve a solution, I have to go home tomorrow. I can’t see my family ruined.”

  “Please, no.” He shook his head.

  Fortuna reached up and delicately traced the angry bruise upon his lower jaw with her kid-encased fingertips. “Sir Hector?” she asked fearfully, probably thinking of what other pain Macleane would inflict upon her family in addition to their financial ruin.

  Giles shook his head. He and the twins certainly made a grim trio. Neddy with his bruised cheek, him with his jaw, and Darleston had taken out a kerchief, which he was busy applying to his split lip. What a rag-tag bunch of losers she’d fallen in with. “We should leave here,” he said.

  “To go where?” Darleston asked, and Giles’s finally noticed that he too sported newly shortened hair, making the twins far more alike. “Do you know of a safer place?”

  “The bloody house is wrecked, and would be out of the question even if it weren’t,” said Neddy. “Macleane knows she’s with you now.”

  Fortuna gave a gasp at the mention of the house, and Darleston’s eyes narrowed. He looked as if he was about to ask, until Giles shook his head. Discussions about the fire and other events could wait a little longer. He squeezed Fortuna’s hand, and wrapped an arm around her slender shoulders. She smiled wanly at him, so that the adorable dimple in her cheek showed. Giles feasted on her altered appearance. He’d seen every inch of her, had traced his lips across most of it, but seeing her slender legs encased in butter soft fabric seemed somehow more lewd. Noticing his scrutiny, she smoothed the ends of her cropped hair. It was a bloody awful cut, ragged and messy, but not nearly so bad once he’d brushed the long fringe back off her face so that the crop framed her pretty face. It made her seem elfin.