Portrait of a Scandal

by Danielle Lisle

  A Total-E-Bound Publication

  www.total-e-bound.com

  Portrait of a Scandal

  ISBN # 978-1-78184-146-4

  ©Copyright Danielle Lisle 2012

  Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright November 2012

  Edited by Amy Parker

  Total-E-Bound Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing.

  Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

  The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

  Published in 2012 by Total-E-Bound Publishing, Think Tank, Ruston Way, Lincoln, LN6 7FL, United Kingdom.

  Warning:

  This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Total-e-burning and a sexometer of 2.

  This story contains 140 pages, additionally there is also a free excerpt at the end of the book containing 9 pages.

  Scandals of Nobility

  PORTRAIT OF A SCANDAL

  Danielle Lisle

  The one man she desires is the one man she can never marry, for if he knew the truth about her scandalous past, he would despise her.

  During a time when women are required to be appealing, well mannered, but never opinionated, Lady Nellie struggles to find her place. She believes in speaking her mind, not caring if her words offend others, or how unladylike she seems. Yet one man, whom she primarily despises, finds her sharp tongue intriguing rather than uncivil.

  Lord Sterling is heir to a dukedom and it is time he is married, yet all the girls of the season are dull and lifeless, to his mind. Well, all apart from Lady Nellie. Her flowered words are laced with insults—insults that, rather than offending him, set his mind into a flutter, wondering if the passion in her voice will be as strong in the bedroom.

  Dedication

  For Nellie Joyce Lisle.

  I miss you, Nanna.

  Chapter One

  London

  Late July, 1881

  Oh my, this contraption is more uncomfortable than any corset!

  As the words flitted through her mind, Lady Nellie offered a smile to a passing gentleman, trying to ignore the heavy weight of the article hidden beneath her dress. She held no interest in the affectionate glance he bestowed upon her. Instead, she retrieved a crystal glass of champagne from a servant’s tray. You are here for a reason, she chastised herself. Get the job done and run like the devil is on your heels!

  Nellie gulped down the remaining fizzy liquid from the elegant glass before taking a deep breath as she glanced around the room. Lords and ladies were chatting. Mothers scouted the room, seeking to marry off their young daughters to rich dukes, lords or even commoners—assuming they had money. The passage of time had relaxed the ton as their need for money increased, overlooking any snobbery towards those of non-noble blood. If you had money and wished to mingle with the aristocracy, there was a good chance that your desire could become a reality.

  The people around her paid Nellie scant attention as she slipped behind the curtain leading towards the house’s private quarters. It did not take her long to locate what she sought—she could hear the moans beyond the final door on the right. She smiled, knowing wealth awaited her if she could capture this moment of debauchery.

  Scandal made the papers. In the past, gossip had turned her a tidy profit, but now they wanted pictures. Her editor considered her ‘his little secret’. Her information had led him to the entrapment of several lords and ladies in less than proper circumstances, but it was not enough. No, now he wanted the utmost of scandals and he wanted it captured for all to witness. This noble lady was not nearly as careless as the others, but Nellie would not be deterred. The seemingly seasoned debutante was about to be exposed and if Nellie’s sources were correct, she was about to earn a vast profit. Oh, please, let it be the duke’s unwed daughter.

  She noted the small wooden box by the door and inwardly thanked the heavens for the servant’s greed for a guinea over his loyalty to the house. As she knelt down—a somewhat trying task considering the burden she was already carrying strapped to her body—and opened the lid, the small creak of the hinge was drowned out by the gentle groans seeping from under the door beside her. Removing the object that had caused her so much discomfort for the evening, Nellie took no time to relish in her relief as she ensured the small, yet heavy, camera was ready. It was only then that she allowed herself a calming breath. Juggling the camera in one hand, she held up the bulky flash lamp, which was a prototype according to her editor—not that she really cared.

  She would only have one chance to capture the moment. Nellie leant back against the door, the moans and groans sending heat through her untried body. She had pleasured herself only last night, but the sounds coming from the room sounded so divine. Oh, how she desired to be wanton like this girl, but knew that could never be. No man wanted a woman with a mind such as she possessed for a wife, and she would never fall so far into the gutter as the woman beyond the door had done.

  She shook her head at these foolish thoughts. Nellie took one last breath. Raising her chin, she shouldered the heavy wooden door open, calling, “Oops. Pardon me, wrong room!”

  As both man and woman turned in shock, Nellie flicked the switch for the flash powder to ignite and pressed the shutter open on the camera. The flash of bright white light filled the room, illuminating all before her for a single instant. Then a billow of white smoke hid the bed and its occupants from her view. The woman screamed, but Nellie did not wait to see if it was the duke’s daughter. She tossed the flash into the room, uncaring for its end, and darted down the hall, the rake’s angry bellow sounding behind her as she ran for her life. Indeed, like the devil was on her heels.

  * * * *

  “Where have you been?”

  Nellie ignored Carl’s harsh words. His eager movements as he hurried to close the door behind her spoke of his greedy excitement.

  “Did you get it?” He leant back against the now closed door, eyeing her intently.

  She did not trust this man, yet she had little choice. Carl was a slimy chap. His wide girth and greasy hair, together with his foul stench, made sharing his presence for any length of time a great trial. He was, however, a man who paid well for what she offered.

  “I don’t know,” she answered in all honesty.

  “What?” he exclaimed.

  “I did not linger to see if it was her. I simply took the photograph and ran. I fear my life is worth more than a scandal, regardless of this scandal’s importance to you.”

  “And you. The cash it will bring you is your only motive. No?”

  She glared at the man, but it was unlikely he would perceive it. Her thick veil, together with her black dress, gave away little. The tattered fabric suggested that she was a lower middle-class widow. She was happy for the deception.

  “Well, where is it?” He snapped his fingers impatiently.

  Nellie pulled the camera out of her coat. She wore it strapped to her chest as she had the night before. It was diminutive but heavy, smaller than any came
ra she had ever seen. It had no doubt cost Carl a fortune, but if it was the duke’s daughter in the picture, the price would have been well worth it.

  She slid it back into her coat as he reached forward to grab it. “No. I will accompany you to develop it, I believe.”

  His grey eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “Because I wish to see what I took for myself.” She did not hold confidence in him to disclose the truth if he could make more on a lie. She had not just risked her neck for nothing. “Then if it is not the duke’s daughter, I am sure it is someone else of noble blood. No others could attend that ball.”

  “You did,” Carl said, with a thoughtful glance at her attire.

  “Yes, I did.”

  Nellie watched as he looked up and down her body. His wandering gaze drifted from her clothes to the veil covering her face. She would never inform him of who she really was. All she sought was to save her family from debtor’s prison. This was the only way.

  Carl huffed out a breath and nodded. She followed him through the door. The poppycock did not even have the grace to hold it open and let her precede him, though she wondered why she should expect more from the vile man. He led her to a small, darkened room with a powerful chemical smell which soon overpowered Carl’s foul scent.

  Nellie handed him the camera with a watchful eye. While unfamiliar with this process and caring little for the procedure, Nellie did not want him to damage the picture in any way, so she maintained a close watch on Carl. He prepared a glass slide and shifted several other bottles containing chemicals and powders around.

  A short time later, he held up the glass slide with a smile. She moved behind him and gazed over his shoulder, attempting to decode the shadowed image. Nellie took no joy in the realisation that indeed it was the Lady Mary, the duke’s daughter, who had been beneath the rake’s passionate body. She did not relish in this woman’s ruin, although the sum her debauchery would fetch did bring Nellie a great deal of satisfaction.

  “I want my money. Now, please.”

  * * * *

  Thomas stared out of the expansive window of his father’s library. Behind him, his father and the duke were engaged in a rather heated discussion.

  “You will wed her!” he heard the duke bellow in his direction.

  Thomas did not bother to turn. “I will not.”

  “You ruined my daughter!”

  Thomas snorted and finally turned to face the man who, for the last half an hour, had threatened him with all types of harm and ruin. “I assure you, Your Grace, I did not. Your daughter was hardly pure when I took her.” His voice was contemptuous.

  Mary gasped, her pale eyes pleading with Thomas, but when he did not soften his features towards her she broke into a fresh round of sobbing. Thomas shook his head and looked away. The woman had no integrity. She could not even stand up and accept her indiscretion.

  “She told me you forced her last night,” the duke snapped, his eyes narrowed.

  “I did nothing of the sort. Sir Walter took her at your hunt last summer. Trust me when I say she is a seasoned lover.”

  He suddenly regretted the mention of such, as the duke’s face reddened and Thomas grew concerned for the man’s health. But after several deep breaths, the duke looked to Mary.

  The truth showed in her silence.

  “Go to the carriage, now!” her father snapped.

  She sobbed but did as she had been told. She acted the innocent party and her insinuation of rape on his part disgusted him. He liked sex, enjoyed the sweetness between a woman’s thighs, but this was too much. Mary had certainly been willing—she’d all but dragged him away at the ball and she’d demonstrated her clear enjoyment until they’d been interrupted.

  “You knew about her lack of purity prior to last night?” his father asked him quietly.

  “Indeed.”

  “Why not bring it to my attention so I could inform the duke? He could have been spared all this.”

  Thomas doubted that. It was not a secret among the ton. “I did not think it my place.”

  “Yet you thought it your place to bed her?” the duke snapped.

  “She propositioned me, Your Grace. Would you have turned down a willing woman in your youth, I ask you? I think not, after hearing your and Father’s stories as you reminisce over brandy.” Thomas paused. He did feel for the man he had once almost considered an uncle. “I did not plan any of this and if I could take it back, I would.” She had not been worth it.

  “What if there is a child?” his father asked.

  “If there is, it is not mine.” The intruder had seen to that with their sudden appearance. Something he perhaps should be thankful for.

  His father took a deep breath and gave a nod, clearly relieved.

  “You should still wed her,” the duke said, not for the first time.

  “I will do nothing of the sort.”

  “I was sent a letter from the newspaper. They have the photograph of the two of you,” the duke growled. “You will allow Mary to be ruined?”

  Thomas sighed and looked back out of the window. He had not been quick enough to see who had taken the photo, or catch them. The woman had vanished like a ghost. “I had hoped the picture would not develop correctly,” he muttered. The technology was new and accidents happened. It seemed no errors had been made this time. A shame. “Your Grace, Mary was ruined last summer. All the gentlemen of London know this.”

  Thomas did not need to turn to know the duke had paled. Finally, it must be sinking in for the older man.

  “When is the photograph to run?” Thomas’ father asked the duke.

  “Tomorrow, if I do not purchase it.”

  “Then, my friend, I suggest you acquire it,” his father said in a sad tone.

  Thomas’ reputation would not be tarnished if the photograph did run—only Mary stood at risk. Her father had little choice but to take her abroad and find a suitable husband. One who did not know the gossip of London. But not before they sorted this mess out first.

  “We need to meet with this editor,” Thomas said, as he looked out at the dreary city before him. He did not like being the butt of anything, and anyone who tried was going to learn the hard way that he was not a gentleman to be trifled with.

  * * * *

  Nellie fixed her veil as she descended the steps of the hired hack. Her maid, Anne, had raced into her chamber that morning, announcing that Carl had sent a letter asking to meet at noon. Carl sent all mail to her in care of a fake name through the local grocer, Anne’s uncle.

  Her father’s debts had now been fully paid, thanks to the wealth from the photograph. She intended to tell the bottom-dwelling editor he would now need to look elsewhere for his ton gossip. The estate was doing well for itself and Nellie had not realised just how well. The money she had made from the photograph, together with this year’s earnings, was enough to put her family back on track.

  She might have been of noble blood, but her family finances had become scarce, her father having drunk what little they had had left. Nellie had possessed little choice in the matter when the truth had become apparent to her. She had become part of the underbelly of London, selling others’ secrets to right her family. She pushed back any unease that this created, reminding herself that those people had been in the wrong—she had merely brought it to Carl’s attention.

  She had ordered the London house closed this morning, and she and her father would depart for their country estate tomorrow. Gladly, Nellie had noticed her father was starting to come out of his gloom. She forbade the staff to bring any more liquor into the house and her father had quickly sobered, realising his daughter was right—life was too precious to waste in oblivion. If only she had taken control sooner, she would never have had to stoop as low as she had. It was still not something of which she was proud.

  As she moved through the small offices, the secretary waved her on, not looking up from her work. Nellie hated coming here. She felt dirty. The smells of ink and mould lined the
se rooms. She always had to bathe after meeting with Carl.

  She knocked once and entered when she heard Carl answer, only to be brought up short when she realised he was not alone. A man was standing beside him, talking, but he paused when she entered. It was a man she recognised.

  A gasp left her lips as she spun around, only to have the door slam closed in her face. Another man stood beside it in the darkness, his hand over the door handle preventing her escape as she reached for it.

  A shiver raced up her spine, but not from fear. His darkened silhouette hid him in the confines of the small room, yet arousal melted her body, pooling in her centre as her nipples pebbled against her corset. He tightened his hand on the door handle, before his fingers flexed. Did he feel the same way she did? Was that why his hand was clenched?

  Oh, my gosh, I’m trapped in a room with three men and I’m becoming aroused! What is wrong with me?

  She backed away from this man then recalled the other behind the desk. Turning her back on the shadow, she faced the other two men. Better the devil you know than the one you do not, even though I suspect who he truly is.

  The woman wore a widow’s dress, her face concealed behind a thick veil. Thomas ground his teeth in frustration. He wanted to see the woman who was trying to ruin his life. He wanted to rip the fabric from her face and expose her. If she had been a man, he would have.

  He allowed his gaze to wander down her body. She was not tall, but not short either—her head would perhaps come in just under his chin.

  “This is the woman who took the photograph?” the duke asked.

  Carl, the worm of a man, had only seen the opportunity to increase his minute coffers when he’d first contacted the duke, but now the vermin was terrified. He had been visibly shaking since the duke had threatened to have him jailed for extortion. The editor had willingly sought out the woman who had taken the photograph. It was clear the rodent had no clue as to her identity either. Thomas was sure Carl would have given it up if he had known.