Portrait of a Scandal

by Danielle Lisle

  “To be sure,” Carl agreed.

  The woman raised her chin and looked directly at the duke—not that he or anyone else could see her face, but the action spoke for itself. She was not afraid, or if she was, she hid it well.

  “Who are you?” the duke demanded with a stamp of his foot.

  “I will not divulge that information to you, Your Grace,” her soft, yet firm, voice stated.

  “Remove your veil,” the duke snapped.

  “I am sorry, Your Grace, but I will not.”

  Thomas listened to her voice as he watched her posture from behind. She was a noble, he was sure. Her voice was schooled, her back straight and proud. Others would have cowered before the older, more powerful nobleman, but she did not. She did not appear to fear him at all. Was she daft or desperate? Why would a noble seek to ruin one of her own?

  “You could have ruined my daughter! I will know who risked this!”

  “Your Grace, there is no one to blame for your daughter’s sins but she. She is the one who offered herself to the rake and he is hardly the first of her many lovers.”

  Thomas blinked at her stiff back. She had openly labelled him a rake! Few would dare say so to his face. She had taken the picture and assumedly got a good view of him at the time too. Did she not know it was he? Surely that could not be the case? Thomas was also surprised by how much she knew and how she had managed to keep her voice even throughout the conversation, especially as the duke flamed red.

  “How dare you?”

  “I speak only the truth, Your Grace. While I do regret the circumstances surrounding my actions and how this knowledge has caused you great pain, I do not regret the actions themselves. They have saved my family from financial ruin.”

  The duke flamed redder. “I will ruin your family!”

  “Then I regret that the information you seek to keep private will be made common knowledge. Do you think I am careless enough to hand over all my information to a man whose greed drives him? Do you believe that was the only photograph I have taken? It is simply the one which was worth the most.” The woman sighed. “My debts are now paid and I will no longer step upon the gutters, as I have seen my family returned to rights. While you may think little of me, I can assure you no more of what I know will be made public. This is why I returned here today. To inform this vagabond in person.”

  Carl glared at her, but said nothing.

  The duke narrowed his eyes on her. “You have other information?”

  “And I will not share it unless you force me to, Your Grace.” The woman turned towards Thomas. “Would you kindly move, my Lord?” she asked demurely, but did not raise her face to his. Even though he could not see her features, he knew she was not looking at him.

  Thomas narrowed his eyes. “Who are you?”

  “No one of consequence, my Lord. Please step aside.”

  He moved to open the door.

  “How do we know you will not expose us further?” he asked, as the hinges groaned gently.

  “You do not.”

  Then she was gone.

  * * * *

  Later, as he stood by the fire in his study, Thomas could not help but think of the young widow and why he had let her leave. What had possessed him to allow a woman who had used him as a source to right her family, go free with no further thought? He could not even blame it on her charms, as he had seen none. He took a deep breath then exhaled hard in frustration at the situation.

  He doubted she was truly a widow either—she must simply have been dressed as one. Her soft yet assured voice had held his attention. She was a lady of society, he was sure of it, but who? He thought back to her looks, but there had been little to go by. Her brown locks had been pinned high, but that was her only exposed feature. Every other inch of her had been covered. She’d worn gloves, and her dress and veil had covered everything else.

  Yet, she intrigued him. He had felt an invisible but surprisingly strong pull towards this woman, a woman who had effectually sought to expose him. Peculiarly, he did not care about her actions now as much as he had at first. She had said she’d needed the money to save her family, and strangely, he believed it.

  He leaned against the window frame and sighed. In truth, if it had been any other father, Thomas feared he would be facing duelling pistols, but he suspected Lady Mary’s reputation would be blackened if the duke took the action against him. The man was also likely unwilling to risk his friendship with Thomas’ father. At least for now everyone involved was pretending nothing had taken place.

  Only a handful of people knew what had happened that night, and while he did not trust the editor, he somehow believed the woman. It was her lack of fear that intrigued him. He suspected she would have allowed herself to be taken down to save her family. She obviously held a sense of pride and had taken on a man’s job to save those she loved. She was the first woman he had met who did not cower in fear, or cry, hoping a man would fix her problems. No, this woman took matters into her own hands and faced the consequences. Such a woman could never make life boring.

  Chapter Two

  Rickiton Estates’ Annual Garden Party

  September, 1881

  “So, my dear, do any of these gentlemen strike your fancy?”

  Nellie smiled up at her father and slid her hand through his as they moved under the shrouded sun of the garden party. “No man has matched you, Papa—so, no.”

  He chuckled and led her to a small group chatting about the weather or some such trivial nonsense. Nellie paid it little mind.

  Her father was no longer the grieving man he had been in London after her mother had passed away. He had been at his wife’s side during her long illness and had not coped at all well when her death had finally arrived. The numbness of a bottle had been his only escape from the pain. Nellie had allowed it for so long, but once the accounts had become worrisome, she had sought out her father’s man of business and it had seemed things had been much worse than she’d first thought. Still, that was in the past and her efforts, as well as her father’s strong will to overcome his grief, had led them back to the comfortable position they were in today. She was happy to see him content again, though her mother’s death still pained them both.

  Only his sudden insistence to marry her off was becoming bothersome. Yes, she was of age—she had been out for two seasons and agreed it was time to find a husband—but all the gentlemen she’d met appeared shallow and had not appreciated her thoughts or mind. In fact, one had been bold enough to tell her she should possess no opinion of her own, and her father and husband would be the ones to tell her what her opinions were.

  Love, it seemed, was hard to find.

  * * * *

  Bride shopping was such a chore but something that must be undertaken. Thomas’ parents had once turned a blind eye to his gambling, partying and fornicating, but he had turned thirty last month, and it was now time to find himself a bride and settle down, providing them with a houseful of grandchildren. He did not want to be tied to one woman, but in truth, found the rakish lifestyle he had once led very tiresome of late. The task of finding a wife had so far proved mundane. They all seemed so petty and dull, with little to no substance or potential. What man wanted that for the remainder of his days?

  Yet, as he leaned against an old oak at this country garden party, one woman had captured his attention. Her soft but forthright voice caught his notice before anything else. Slowly, as her words registered, Thomas realised she was not a woman who held her tongue. The obvious rage in her heart at the lord’s blunt response—that only men held opinions of their own and not women—made him smile as her features moved into cold regard of the gentleman before her. Still, after a moment she smiled demurely and offered him luck with finding a bride, before she steered her chaperone away. If that was not a clear ‘I can do better than you’, Thomas did not know what was.

  Her chaperone was none other than Lord Kilbride, a friendly fellow and widower. Thomas knew him well from the House
of Lords, but he could not place the woman on his arm. Was she his daughter or niece? It was clear she held deep affection for the older man, but she was too young to be anything other.

  Pushing off from his vantage point under the tree, Thomas walked towards the couple as they took iced cakes from a server’s tray, so he would be able to hear their conversation.

  “Nellie, was that really necessary?”

  The woman, Nellie, smiled up at Lord Kilbride. “I believe I was polite when he told me to kindly shut my trap, Papa.”

  Ahh, Lord Kilbride was her father. Thomas felt a pang of relief, but he pushed the foolish emotion aside.

  The older lord frowned. “He did not say any such thing.”

  “He implied it nonetheless. I will not even look twice at a man who thinks I am nothing more than a vessel to give him an heir. I would have thought you would wish more for me, also.”

  Lord Kilbride sighed and patted her arm. “You know I wish for you what your mother and I had. While I hate to part with you, I want you settled, raising young of your own.”

  She smiled softly up at him. “I know.”

  Lord Kilbride looked over her shoulder as Thomas approached, offering him a broad smile as he always did. “Ah, Lord Sterling, what a pleasure,” the man said in greeting.

  Thomas smiled and looked to the woman as she turned to face him. Her smile froze on her face as she stared at him. She blinked once and looked to her father. How odd. He was sure he had never met her, but she held recognition towards him, or so it seemed.

  “Lord Kilbride, it is good to see you again also,” Thomas said.

  “As it is you. This is my daughter, Lady Nellie. My dear, allow me to introduce you to the Marquess of Sterling.”

  She lowered her eyes and curtseyed. “Lord Sterling, it is a pleasure,” she said, though her voice gave little confirmation of the words. She seemed rather unimpressed by him—disapproving, in fact. Again, how odd. He had never encountered that from a woman previously. He was accustomed to ladies fawning over him. This woman provided a breath of fresh air, a challenge, one he found he appreciated.

  Her father gave her an odd look before he returned his attention to Thomas. “How is your father?”

  “He is well, thank you, my Lord. He and mother spend their time at the family’s country estate for most of late. I fear my father still hates London.”

  Lady Nellie offered a bland smile. “Oh, such a shame. Perhaps he feels the need to be around the calmness that the country offers, not in the hustle, bustle and illicit activity that takes place in London town. But I am sure you maintain a presence in town for your family, do you not, my Lord?”

  Thomas held the distinct impression the woman had just insulted him and judging by the surprised look on her father’s face, he had indeed been on the receiving end of an offensive taunt. He felt himself wanting to smirk at her fortitude.

  “I fear London does not hold the appeal for me that it once did, my Lady. I find myself growing up from the youth I no longer am.”

  She narrowed her eyes slightly but said nothing.

  Thomas looked into those deep blue eyes. He almost expected to see flecks of fire in them, but alas, he did not. She did, however, have fire in her soul. Her dark brown hair was pinned up under a wide-brimmed hat with feathers shifting in the breeze. Her dress was a soft cream with white trim lining the edges. Sunlight caught on the simple jewellery she wore, consisting of earrings and a necklace, although she did not need these things to make her beautiful. That was evident enough on its own.

  Lord Kilbride cleared his throat. “Are you staying for the hunt tomorrow?” he asked, breaking the odd silence. “It is being held at our estate.”

  Thomas gave a nod. “Yes, and thank you for the invitation. I must admit it has been a while since I have had the excuse to join a hunt. Are you participating?”

  “Yes, both my daughter and I are. She is quite a skilled horsewoman, my Nel. Where are you staying while in the area? Have you taken lodgings with friends?”

  “I am staying at the local pub. It seems to cater well for hunters.”

  The older man beamed. “We cannot have that. You must come and stay with us at Fleurit Park. It will be a great pleasure for me to spend time with you. I must admit, while I do love my daughter’s company, I do miss bending the ear of a gentleman. Do you not agree Lord Sterling should come stay with us, Nel?”

  Lady Nellie’s mouth lifted at the corners, while her eyes glared at Thomas. “Of course, my Lord. Father and I would gladly receive your company.”

  Thomas grinned at her in return, well aware that the level of generosity in her offer did not match her father’s, but he found himself enjoying the moment immensely. “Well then, thank you. I would be a fool not to accept this kind offer.”

  Lady Nellie’s lips pursed before she took a breath and offered a smile that looked forced.

  His own smile broadened.

  * * * *

  “Are you well, my Lady?”

  Nellie looked to Anne in the mirror of her dressing table and offered a smile. “I am fine.”

  Anne frowned for a moment, clearly not convinced, but returned to pinning Nellie’s hair for dinner. “I must admit, the marquess is a handsome man, is he not? He smiled at me as we passed in the hall and I swear I almost swooned.”

  Nellie’s eyes snapped back to her maid. “You passed him in the hall? Up here, in the family wing? Is he not staying in the west wing?”

  “Oh, he is, my Lady. I passed him as he and your father entered the library.”

  Nellie relaxed. The woman was loyal to a fault, but she also seemed naïve when it came to men and appearances. “Yes, I suppose he is a handsome man, but do not judge a man by his looks alone. A true gentleman is handsome on the inside as well as out.”

  “Why, my Lady, do you speak of the marquess with disapproval? Has he been unkind to you in some way?”

  “He has not,” Nellie admitted. In truth, the man had shown her a great deal of kindness. As she thought back to a time she had tried very hard to forget, Nellie realised he and the duke could have been very cruel to her and unmasked her in Carl’s office, yet they had not. He had taken her word when she’d promised to keep the matter of him and the duke’s daughter secret. The trust he had displayed in her, an unknown widow, was oddly humbling. She had kept her word regarding their secret to this day and she would continue to do so, yet she found it hard to warm to a man with such little respect towards women. “I have simply heard some less than flattering gossip about the man, that is all.”

  “They may not be true. Gossip is often spread by those jealous or those who seek to gain from the other’s demise.”

  Nellie chuckled and looked over her shoulder at her lady’s maid. “That sounded almost enlightened. Where do you find your moments of clarity, my dear Anne?”

  The woman, who had grown up in the house and become a true friend of Nellie’s, blushed slightly at her words. “I simply do not think gossip should shape your opinion of the man. He could make a fine husband for you, my Lady.”

  Nellie raised an eyebrow, thinking back to that night, the way he had bellowed rage at being discovered in the arms of the duke’s daughter. She remembered how she had watched him around other women at the garden party—chatting, smiling and being all-round charming to them—not forgetting the way his gaze had moved over her in an indecent manner. But more than that, how he had made—and still did make—her blood boil with lust and not anger.

  What is wrong with me?

  “No, my dear Anne, I do not believe that man will make a good husband.” For what woman would be able to contain him to her bed, and her bed alone?

  * * * *

  Dinner had been a pleasant enough affair, and while she was sure the cook’s food had been superb, Nellie could truthfully not recall what they had dined on. Her thoughts had focused on the marquess, regardless of her attempts not to.

  The men stayed in the dining room for drinks while she’d claimed
fatigue and had retired for the night. As she nestled into the softness of her mattress, Nellie could not seem to pull her thoughts from the charming and devilishly handsome man who had been sitting opposite her this evening. He had been witty and charming, even brushing off her attempts to be rude or hint at his lack of character. In truth, she knew he was aware of her attempts and it did not bother him—or at least, it did not seem to. What man had ever been unoffended by her unsubtle, if not brash, opinions? None, other than her father. Yet, this man did not appear offended. If anything, he seemed to encourage her.

  Oh, yes, he was unsettling indeed!

  Nellie struggled to sleep, fingering the soft linen around her. She could not rid her mind of the man. The man she had not seen since Carl’s office until today at the garden party, the man who had sent waves of mixed emotions flowing through her body, who now slept in her home. She rolled onto her back and wondered how this could have happened. What if he discovered it was she who had taken the photo of him and Lady Mary? That it had been her who had sold the photo to Carl for money?

  Frowning at the draping bed canopy above, she wondered if all men truly sought in a woman was the comfort between their thighs. That, together with a willingness for the activity and a lack of morals. Lady Mary had not been wed or even betrothed when she had given up her virginity. Nellie was not naïve enough to think all women waited for their wedding day, but surely they should wait for the man they loved?

  She sighed. She was frustrated and aroused. Having been told in church that lust was a sin, Nellie was sure she was destined for hell. Masturbation was the only thing that seemed to calm her nerves. The release of tension through pleasuring herself always settled her frantic wits.