Scandal's Mistress

by Bronwyn Stuart

  “I just need a moment.”

  “Carmalina?”

  Her silk skirts swished around her ankles as she whirled. She thought he was already in the room with his guests so his voice startled her from her irrational thoughts.

  “Justin, I was just…just…” What was she doing? She could do this. She had to.

  “Are you frightened?” Justin asked.

  Was she? No. Not frightened. Apprehensive? His entire scandal rested on her shoulders. Already his antics were reprehensible and all those who knew him obviously expected and accepted it, but for Carmalina, it was a different matter and a new concept.

  Carmalina squared her shoulders, breathed deep, inhaled Justin’s cologne; his male scent intermingled with the smells of the house. She would do it. But most of all, she wanted to do it.

  After meeting his mother and the ensuing argument with her, Carmalina would do anything to see him achieve his ends. Even if she still didn’t truly believe the excuses behind the reasons.

  “I’m ready.”

  Justin reached for her hand and twined his fingers with hers, kissed her knuckles and repeated what seemed to be fast becoming a mantra. “Relax, love. These are my friends. Just be yourself.”

  His words calmed her but only a little. How could she be herself when she no longer knew who that was? Yes, she was Carmalina Belluccini. But that wasn’t the whole truth, either.

  Belluccini was her husband’s name. It was the only thing Antony’s shrew of a mother had had no control over when she’d kicked her out so Carmalina had taken it. But the truth was, she’d never been a wife. They’d said vows but they had both known he wouldn’t survive to make a life with her. To have children, a house, laughter and love.

  Again, it begged the question. Who was she?

  “You don’t have to do this.” Justin’s quiet voice was an anchor in stormy seas. Right now, she was his. It didn’t matter what society labeled her or their relationship. They were lovers. She was a woman, he, a man, and whatever his friends thought of her, nothing else mattered.

  Carmalina stepped into the circle of his arms, snaked her hands into his hair and pulled his head down to touch her mouth to his. The moment she felt his warm, soft lips she melted into him much the way the snow would melt once the furor died down. His arms tightened around her as he deepened the kiss.

  Carmalina opened her mouth to let him in, to let him lay claim to what was hers. He took what she offered and more. With a groan, he shuffled back into the shadows of the stairs, turned and pressed her against the cool timbers.

  His hair was like silk beneath her fingers but his body was hard and demanding as he pressed into her pelvis. Carmalina rose up on her toes so the next time he pressed into her, his manhood ground against her most sensitive place.

  She would have been happy for Justin to throw her down on the floor right there; she would even lift her skirts to save time, to feel him deep within her but it wasn’t to be. It was neither the time nor the place for such passion as the “Ahem” behind him brought them back to their precarious position.

  “What is it, Newberry?”

  “We were wondering what kept you but now I see.”

  It wasn’t Newberry’s voice that penetrated the thick fog of desire enveloping them. This voice was feminine, full of laughter, full of mischief.

  Justin turned, shielded Carmalina with his body as he greeted his guest. “Esmeralda, your timing is impeccable, as usual.”

  Carmalina peeked over his shoulder and there stood a beautiful woman, the epitome of grace and sophistication as she inclined her head and gave Justin a blinding smile. A surge of jealousy rocked her, startling her with its intensity. The second in as many days. In that moment, she would have liked to rip Esmeralda’s carefully arranged hair from her beautiful head and choke her with it.

  “Allow me to introduce you to the estimable and very talented Carmalina Belluccini.” Justin moved and Carmalina stepped into the light ready to do battle.

  She needn’t have bothered. Esmeralda’s smile for her was identical to the one she had bestowed on Justin. The other woman even stepped forward and kissed both of Carmalina’s cheeks.

  She certainly couldn’t entertain violent thoughts against this woman. But Carmalina wasn’t sure if she should curtsy, kiss back or shake hands. In the end she settled for, “Ciao, signorina.”

  “Do you speak English?” Esmeralda asked, clearly taken aback.

  Carmalina laughed and nodded. She hadn’t really been aware that she’d spoken in her native language. “I do.”

  “Excellent. It would be a tedious evening if you couldn’t.”

  “Indeed,” Justin drawled as he ushered them into the parlor.

  “Ah, Trentham, we were beginning to think you’d decided not to join us.”

  “The thought crossed my mind more than once,” he answered, his burning gaze never leaving Carmalina’s.

  It was no small feat that she didn’t combust on the spot. Warm heat stole over her cheeks and it was a moment before she realized introductions were being made.

  Justin gestured to a man standing to her right, his arm around a buxom blonde, her breasts on display for all to see, her lips painted a garish bright red. “Geoffrey and his lady.”

  Geoffrey stepped forward and held her hand to his lips. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, my dear.”

  “Again?”

  “Alas, it was from a distance and the atmosphere didn’t lend to the experience,” he offered by way of explanation. Then he introduced his lady. “This is Gemma. Perhaps your paths crossed at the theatre?”

  Carmalina rather doubted it but made the necessary noises all the same. Gemma turned out to be a lovely girl but very dull-witted.

  “And this—” Justin clapped another man on the back and pushed him into the circle, “—is Matthew.”

  Carmalina held out her hand but was surprised when he stepped forward and kissed her, his cheek lingering next to hers. As he stepped away, she thought she heard an appreciative “Hmm” but couldn’t be sure. She blushed nevertheless.

  “Esmeralda you’ve met, and her husband, Brock.”

  If she thought Matthew’s kiss unnerving, Brock took it one step further and embraced her firmly, her chest squeezed into his.

  “That’s enough.” Justin’s voice was filled with laughter but still firm enough to make Brock release her with an unrepentant grin before rejoining his wife.

  There were two gentlemen left in the room but before Justin gave their names, he stepped closer to Carmalina and wrapped an arm possessively around her waist. “And these two are Penhurst and Dipson, the two most notorious rakes in London at the moment. After me, that is.”

  Everyone tittered at the jest, but as each man approached and took her hand, the line of Justin’s body grew tenser with each second. No wonder Justin had hold of her so tight. He didn’t trust these men and neither would she.

  Once pleasantries were done with, it was time to sit down to dinner. Propriety was easily forgotten as the group casually wandered into the dining room. The hold Justin had on her hand amused her, as though she may wander into the path of an impending catastrophe in the form of two very handsome rogues. As if one wasn’t enough for her to handle.

  Justin placed himself at the head of the table with Carmalina to his right. Matthew sat to the left and next to him, Geoffrey and then Gemma. Next to Carmalina sat Esmeralda, Brock, Penhurst and then Dipson at the other end of the small table. It was an intimate dinner where wine, food and conversation flowed.

  “So tell us, Carmalina, when will you return to the theatre?” Geoffrey asked.

  “So far, I am happy where I am.” Carmalina let the reply and all its implications sink in and, with a smile and a nod, went back to her venison. It could have been rabbit for all she tasted it. Her heart still threatened to explode with anxiety. Each time she ventured to respond to a question, she had to consider her answer and how it may be construed.

  “I did hope
to persuade Carmalina to sing for us later this evening.” Justin reached a hand under the table and placed it on her knee, stroking her limb through the soft fabric of her skirt.

  “Anything for you,” she murmured, knowing she exaggerated the moment but not caring in the least. She liked the way his stormy eyes darkened with desire as the words slipped from her mouth.

  Brock choked, Esmeralda laughed, and the spell was broken.

  Justin raised his glass in a silent toast to her promise. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said precisely those words. Her middle warmed at the insinuation.

  “What brought you to our fair country, if I may so bold as to enquire?” Penhurst asked. He was so rigidly formal, Carmalina wasn’t sure where his dissoluteness hid.

  “My aunt introduced me to the opera when I was a child and when she passed away, I found myself travelling for a time. This is where I paused my journey.”

  “So you won’t stay in England?” Esmeralda asked, a strange expression in her large hazel eyes.

  “For a time.” Carmalina had already offered more information than she should have and the look Esmeralda gave her was so pensive, she would liked to have known the other woman’s thoughts.

  Justin spoke next. “Carmalina may yet be run out of England if her little altercation with my mother yesterday was to become common knowledge.”

  His smile was forced, his words drawled just so for the right emphasis and seeming ennui. She wanted to kick his shin.

  “You had a fight with the countess?” Gemma asked in awe, as though Carmalina had no right.

  “It wasn’t really a fight. She said words that offended me so I slapped her.” If Justin wanted the truth known, she would let it spill forth. His hand on her knee tightened in warning but he had started this little game, not she.

  “You did what?” Matthew’s jaw fell open as the fork between his fingers landed upside down.

  “It was nothing. Merely a disagreement between two women over a man.” She made it sound inconsequential even though she’d enjoyed every moment of the set down the countess so evidently deserved.

  “Carmalina defended my honor like a champion. She is too modest.”

  “Oh, how romantic,” Gemma breathed, her hands clasped in front of her overflowing bosom.

  “I assure you there was nothing romantic about it. The woman made me so angry—” She stopped talking mid-sentence when she realized what she said. Tonight wasn’t about a mightier-than-thou countess. It was about Justin and she had to swing the conversation back that way. “Enough about her. Tell me how you all became friends.”

  The next hour was filled with stories and tales of the exploits of young men strutting around the ton as though they had every right to select those they would acquaint themselves with. Carmalina learned that Dipson and Justin had fought over a woman in their first years loosed on society.

  “That woman was a tramp,” Justin acknowledged with a shake of his head and a chuckle.

  “But she was a lovely tramp. Ah, the memories.” Dipson fell back against his seat with a hand to his head and a smile on his face.

  “My memories, however,” Justin said, “are not so fond. It was the first time a woman ever screamed another man’s name during the act. I was so humiliated, I never saw her again.”

  Carmalina blushed at the frank way they now talked and took another gulp of wine. The main course had been moved away by silent servants and dessert was placed before her. Before she knew what happened, Esmeralda started to giggle. At first Carmalina thought she laughed at Justin’s admission and abject humiliation but then the others started to chuckle as well, Geoffrey releasing a huge guffaw.

  Everyone stared down at their plates. When Carmalina did so, a slow smile crept to her lips. In her bowl were two cakes, one resting on the other. Never in all her days had she heard or seen anything like it and she was glad she’d had the wine before dessert had been placed in front of her.

  “I thought you, Esmeralda, would get rather a large kick out of this one,” Justin said.

  “How on earth did you convince your cook to do this?” she asked between peals of laughter.

  “Actually it was his idea to do the phallus but when I pointed out the men might not enjoy it, he added in the breasts.”

  When Carmalina raised her eyes to Justin’s, he stared at her, challenged her silently, as to what she wasn’t sure. Keeping her gaze locked with his, Carmalina slid her finger along the length of the phallus resting on creamed breasts. Lifting her hand to her mouth, she licked the sugar from its tip and then sucked it clean.

  Justin’s hand tightened where it still lay on her leg. Compelled by the dark desire in his eyes and the warmth of his hand through her skirt and single petticoat, Carmalina repeated the action, only this time his hand shot out and captured her wrist.

  “No,” he growled, the sound coming from deep within him.

  She was held, stunned into immobility as Justin bent to her fingers, closed his lips around her skin and ignited a fire that shot straight to the heart of her throbbing sex.

  With the pull of his mouth, she squirmed in her seat. When he finished cleaning the confectionary from her fingers, he leaned back in his seat like a man who was at peace with the world, but his promised word sent pure lust spearing to her core. “Later,” he whispered.

  * * *

  God, did she even know what she did to him? The transformation from innocent virgin to mistress was going to kill him with its deadly speed and precision.

  Justin only barely stopped himself from wiping the table clean and having her on her back. This time he would ensure she reached the highest peaks he could take her. Memories of lifting her skirts and having her at his mercy played in his mind until his present condition became unbearable. Only mere hours had passed since he had been the first to claim her, yet he would have been happy to be naked with her for every one of the minutes that ticked by. He felt he wasted time, cheated of her taste, her scent, her warmth by sustaining his body. By the mere act of eating.

  And there’s your scandal.

  Damn his angelic conscience. The angel sat on his shoulder and whispered that if it wasn’t for his scandal, they wouldn’t be sitting down to dinner with his friends. The devil in his other ear trumpeted what they should have done instead. He was inclined to agree with Satan; however, he nurtured a scandal and had to think of the longer term so when the time came, they could start afresh.

  “What a novel idea.” He heard Esmeralda’s voice and was grateful for the distraction.

  “Do you think he would share the secret of this creation with my cook? I have some clients who would adore these.”

  “Clients?” Carmalina asked.

  Justin probably should have told her of Esmeralda’s occupation before they sat down to dinner and by the way both ladies’ eyebrows rose in question, he wondered how best to reveal the information.

  Before he had the chance to be diplomatic about it and gently break it to his mistress that she sat beside an infamous courtesan, Brock began to laugh again. Esmeralda saved him his answer. “I own a brothel.”

  Carmalina’s spoon stopped midway on the journey to her mouth. Topped with a cherry nipple the concoction quivered like marmalade.

  All conversation halted as each and every person waited to see what her reaction would be, Justin included. He didn’t know much of her life except that she’d been a widowed virgin raised by an aunt. Perhaps she was a little too innocent to be supping with a madam.

  “You do?” Carmalina asked as she put the spoon in her mouth and chewed slowly on the dessert.

  “I do,” Esmeralda confirmed. She enjoyed herself. Esmeralda wasn’t ashamed of what she did. She ran a clean house with girls who wanted to be there. She paid them well and demanded only a portion of what the ladybirds earned.

  When Carmalina turned to him, it wasn’t anger or embarrassment in her dark eyes. “Is that where the two of you met?”

  Was she jealous? Excellent. He felt like bea
ming. For the first time in his life, someone cared enough to show him an emotion entirely directed at him that wasn’t shame or fury or anything close to it.

  “Hardly,” Penhurst crowed. “Never known Trentham to visit a place like that in his life.”

  Damn.

  “A place like what?” Esmeralda’s voice chilled.

  “Come now, I didn’t mean it like that.” He tried to defend his insult but Esmeralda wouldn’t have it. Justin just hoped the china survived the inevitable war.

  “Are you implying that my wife’s establishment is that kind of place?” Brock, the brave knight, came to his lady’s defense.

  “What kind of place is it?” Carmalina asked, cutting through some of the tension.

  “You shall have to come for a visit now that Penhurst has given you the entirely wrong idea.”

  “I don’t think so,” Justin put forward.

  “And why not?” Esmeralda asked. The ice in her eyes grew even colder.

  Justin had to bring the situation back under his control. He did so by reverting to the pet name he called Esmeralda when they were among friends. “Calm down, hussy. I simply meant that maybe Carmalina wouldn’t like to be quite scandalized in that manner.”

  “Nonsense, I’ll send a closed carriage. No one will know it is her. Where are you staying?”

  “Here,” Carmalina replied easily, though it was clear she was unsure about making a visit to a brothel, the risk of recognition notwithstanding.

  “Here?” Esmeralda asked incredulously, looking around the dining room as though she expected to find a cot set up in the corner.

  “I have moved in.”

  “I see. Interesting,” Esmeralda replied.

  Geoffrey’s snorts of laughter quickly made most at the table forget Penhurst’s implied insult but Justin would rather go back to that discussion than see the confusion in Carmalina’s eyes.

  “Trust you to find a way to not only step over the line, but make a leap so large and effective, you outdo even yourself.” Matthew joined in the laughter.

  No one else seemed to notice Carmalina’s discomfort and before anyone would, Justin announced that dinner was over and they should all move to the drawing room.