“Is this your first visit to London, Mr Popellie?” the countess asked.
“Si, it is. I must say I am enjoying what I have seen so far. It is all very bellissima,” he said and grinned, his eyes moving over Nellie.
Fire raged in Thomas, but Nellie, as always, did not shy away from hiding her true thoughts.
“Why, what a kind thing to say, was it not, ladies?” Nellie asked, not giving the women a chance to argue before she continued, “I, however, have travelled though Italy and while I must admit I loved the food, drink and people, I was shocked by the apparent lack of decorum displayed.” She flicked her gaze from Lady Mary to her husband.
“But I am sure a gentleman like you will be exempt from that assessment,” the countess added, her eyes narrowed. She clearly disapproved of the man.
“Indeed,” Lady Mary said, her eyes firmly on Thomas.
Thomas, however, had been forced to act on his manners long enough. “My dear, they are playing the waltz. Would you care to dance?”
Thomas led them through the waltz and Nellie was glad of it. Had it not been for his sure step, she would likely have tumbled to the floor. Her mind was on other things.
“I must say this is hardly close enough for me, wife,” Thomas whispered in her ear.
Nellie offered a weak smile in return. Why did Lady Mary have to be here? Nellie felt ill at being in the same room as the woman, even more so since Thomas was there.
He frowned slightly as the music came to a stop. “Care to take a break on the balcony?”
“Most definitely.” The fresh air would be a welcome relief from the perfumed stench clouding the overcrowded room. How hard would it be for these people to take a bath? Then they would not have to douse themselves in perfume. Nellie almost sighed with relief when the crisp night air hit her face.
“Are you well, my dear?”
Thomas’ face showed concern and Nellie attempted to smile. “Indeed, husband. I am sorry, but the event itself is wearing on me, not to mention the stench of it.”
Thomas’ own nose wrinkled. “Quite so. I am fortunate I have found a wife who is not apprehensive about bathing, unlike the remainder of society.”
“If it were not the case, you might change your mind about sharing my bed every night.”
Thomas squeezed her hands. “No, Nel. Nothing could ever keep me from our bed. You should know that by now.” He chuckled. “But perhaps I might throw you in the tub and have my wicked way with you. Clean and dirty all in one.”
She looked up at the man she loved and could not help but rise to her tiptoes and kiss his lips. She loved him more than her whole life, and she had led him blindly into this marriage. She hated herself for it. Lady Mary’s presence was a weighty reminder of her deception.
She broke the kiss regretfully. “Would you mind retrieving me a glass of lemonade?”
He nodded but frowned slightly also, looking around them and finding no one else on the balcony. “Of course. Will you be all right?”
“Quite. I am merely basking in some fresh air.”
Thomas leant down and kissed her, wrapping his arms around her firmly, before he broke away and ran his thumb over her cheek. He offered a warm smile before he set about his task.
Nellie needed a moment alone to gather her chaotic thoughts. She had come here for a reason tonight—to carry out her mother’s dying wish, no matter how silly it now seemed to be. Here she was, in a place in which she did not want to stand, in the company of the very woman who Nellie could barely be in the presence of without wanting to be ill.
Lady Mary had looked at her with such disdain that Nellie knew she should be offended, but she was anything but. She felt nothing but disgust for a woman who thought so little of herself as Lady Mary obviously did, offering herself to so many men, but the thought that this woman had touched Thomas made her want to weep.
“A charming night.”
Nellie spun at the accented words to see the pompous-looking Italian standing only a few feet away. Her attention flicked to the door that led back into the ballroom. Thomas was nowhere in sight.
“It is remiss of your husband to leave you alone,” Mr Popellie said with a smirk, his gaze moving over her body as if he knew what lay beneath her dress. Nellie had the sudden urge to bathe. How dirty his gaze made her feel!
“Lord Sterling has merely gone to fetch me a glass of lemonade. He will be back momentarily,” she offered, in the hope that he would leave, but he did not. He took a step towards her and Nellie felt the stone banister against her back. She felt trapped, and likely was. He stopped a foot away and smirked.
“Then I had best be quick about it.”
Nellie glared. Who did this man think he was? “Mr Popellie, I would appreciate it if you would remove yourself from my vicinity.”
He clicked his tongue. “Come now, bella, you do not truly mean that. I mean to be friendly, that is all. In fact, I sought you out to offer you a position as my mistress. I would indeed like to feel the softness of your skin beneath your dress.” He raised a hand to touch her breast, and Nellie slapped it away.
“Do not touch me,” she spat, and pushed past him.
“You heard the lady,” said a threatening voice from the side of the balcony.
Nellie spun around to see a brooding figure move onto the top step leading from the small garden below, and into the candlelight. Nellie sagged with relief as she recognised Lord Headline. He strode forward, his lethal gaze on the Italian as he came to stand by Nellie. Nellie turned and stepped back closer to Headline, so very thankful for his sudden appearance. She took another step back and bumped into him from behind. He put a hand up to steady her, but his eyes were still locked on Mr Popellie, she noted as she looked back at him.
“Leave,” Headline snarled.
A shudder ran the length of Nellie’s body at the venom in his voice, but she did not fear him.
As the Italian offered a parting smile and re-entered the ballroom, Nellie sagged against Headline for a moment. She felt safe there with him, but she suddenly realised she had felt this way before. Nellie frowned and stepped away from him, turning to look up at her husband’s best friend. Thoughts raced through her mind, but she shook her head in an effort to ward them off.
“Thank you, Lord Headline.” Nellie could not help but shudder. “I am very grateful for your sudden appearance.”
Headline watched the ballroom for a moment more before he looked down at her and gave a nod.
“Ah, Headline—I see your mother has dragged you here as well,” came Thomas’ amused voice as he appeared by Nellie, handing her a glass of lemonade.
“Lady Mary’s new husband just propositioned your wife,” Headline stated.
Thomas blinked once, then turned a glare on Nellie. She bristled.
“Do not glare at me, Thomas! I did not provoke him, nor did I encourage him. In fact, I am fairly certain my actions were exactly the opposite.”
“She is right. I witnessed the encounter,” Headline stated.
Nellie turned her own glare on Lord Headline. His first words to her husband had been that she had been propositioned. Why had he not immediately followed up his first statement with his second? Men! She glared at them both as she downed the glass of weak liquid in a single gulp.
“I have attended this event and now I wish to retire. Thank you, Lord Headline. Your chivalry is very much appreciated,” Nellie said, raising her hand to her chest in an effort to tame her racing heart.
* * * *
Thomas watched his wife. They had not spoken in the carriage ride home, nor since they had entered the house. Nellie was not one of those chits who talked endlessly, but she was never silent for long. The only other time she had been this quiet was the night after their marriage, the night they had quarrelled. Was she angry with him now? He did not think so, but her actions puzzled him.
They walked up the stairs to their chambers. Nellie pushed opened her door and Thomas noted Anne stood waiting to help he
r mistress undress.
“Anne, I would like a moment. I’ll call when I need you.”
Anne nodded. “Very well, my Lady.”
“Thomas,” Nellie called, as she turned in the middle of the room. “May I have a moment of your time?”
He walked into her room and frowned at her, closing the door behind Anne. “Nel, what is wrong? Is it Mr Popellie? I can assure you that man will be drawn and quartered if he so much as approaches you again,” Thomas stated, feeling the unfamiliar clench of jealousy in his gut. Nel was his and he would never share her, never again.
“You may feel differently when you hear what I have to say.”
Thomas paused in his approach. “Pardon?”
Nellie clenched her hands before her and dipped her head, closing her eyes before she looked back up to him, wetness sparkling on her lashes. He started towards her but she held up her hand, effectively stopping him.
“No. This is hard enough for me, but I can no longer hide it from you. It is killing me inside.”
His heart stopped. She hated being here? Thomas was sure his heart was about to fail him.
“I can no longer live this lie.”
Thomas said nothing. He didn’t even move. He just waited.
Nellie took a deep breath, tears now falling upon her cheeks. “Do you recall in my father’s library when you proposed to me, I told you that I could never marry you because I had done something, something of which I could not speak?”
Relief suddenly flowed through him as he gave a nod. “I do.”
Nellie closed her eyes for a moment. “Something else has happened to me since then Thomas, something I hoped for but never expected. I fell in love with you. I fell so hard that the thought of deceiving you any longer gives me too much pain for me to bear.”
Thomas’ heart soared. She loved him! He was not alone in his feelings of love. She loved him back. He wanted to cheer and shout it from the rooftops, but he saw the agony on her face and schooled his features. She had not finished.
“You know that tonight was about mother, and I tried so much to make her proud, but something overshadowed it. My past…and the pain I know it is going to cause you.”
Again, Thomas waited. He very much wanted to hear this from her lips, and felt it was important that she told him herself.
“I know about your past with Lady Mary. Not from gossip, as you might think, but from a first-hand experience.” A sob escaped her. “I am the woman who took the photo of you in July. It was I who sold it to the papers and it was I who made a profit from your actions.” Tears flowed freely, but Thomas could tell she was trying very hard to remain distant, regardless of her anguish.
He looked into his wife’s pained eyes and wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and kiss her, make love to her, allow her to know he didn’t care, that he loved her back. But, he knew enough about her to know that right now, she needed to hear his confession, as well.
“I know.”
She stared at her unmoving husband. His calm disposition—at a moment she had expected to bear witness to looks of disgust, hurtful words and demands of divorce—was nothing like the reaction for which she had steeled herself.
“What?” she asked with a shake of her head. He couldn’t know.
“I’ve known you were the widow since the hunt at your father’s estate.”
Since the hunt? “But that was before you proposed!”
“It was.”
“But…” She wiped her wet cheeks with a handkerchief and tried to focus on his words. “You proposed!”
“I did.”
“Why?” Her mind went blank, unable to understand.
“Because I wanted you,” Thomas stated simply.
“Wanted me? What? Wanted to take me as your bride and use it against me, should the need arise?” she shouted. Hurt and pain leaked from her very pores. She had carried this pain within her and he had known! He had known all along!
Thomas sighed. “No. It was nothing like that. I was angry when I discovered what you’d done, but at the same time I recalled your words to the duke. You said you did it to save your family. I asked your father about the estate and he told me you had saved it. I cannot say why I proposed that very day, other than I gave in to my lust for you.
“But during our short betrothal I learned and lusted for more than just your wit and body. I also came to care for you, more so than any other woman I have ever beheld. And since our wedding, I, too, have fallen in love, my dear. With you,” he stated.
Nellie could do nothing but stare, wide-eyed. He loved her? How could he, after everything she had done?
Thomas moved forward and stood before her. “I had hoped you would confide in me about the photograph, but I understand why you did not. It pleases me greatly that you have told me. It makes me feel as if there is nothing between us now.”
“But… But how can you ever forgive what I did?” she asked, tears running down her cheeks.
“I forgave it long ago. You are my wife, my love and the reason I live now. It is I who should be asking for your forgiveness. Before you, I was no gentlemen. I was by breeding, but not through my own actions. I now know what it is to love, and I do not ever want to go back to my life before you.”
Nellie could not believe her ears, but she would not question them. Not when he had made her so very happy. She threw herself into Thomas’ arms and met his eager lips. A man that loved her, and a man who had proclaimed that she was his world, his reason for living.
“I love you so much, Nel,” he murmured against her lips.
She smiled. “Prove it.”
Nellie felt his lips curve into a smile before he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed. She had the feeling her bottom was going to sting from her husband’s hand tonight, and she did not mind in the slightest.
Life was grand.
Also available from Total-E-Bound Publishing:
Rogues of Deception: The Rose’s Bloom
Danielle Lisle
Excerpt
Chapter One
Northern Dorset Forest
England, 1803
A clear blue sky was a rarity at this time of year. England had the worst weather, apart from Scotland, perhaps, where it rained no matter what the season.
Damon knew he shouldn’t complain, especially on a day as grand as this. The birds were singing, the wind whispered softly as it passed him, and the wildlife rustled in the underbrush. He was not after a small creature. No, he had his sights on a mighty stag. His man of business had mentioned seeing one in the area when he had recently journeyed from London. How prized would the animal look hanging on his wall? Of course, his study was already filled with the heads of other beasts, but Damon would make sure his staff found room for this creature’s massive antlers.
Approaching the large, winding river where he hoped his prey would stop to drink, Damon was surprised to notice a white mare tethered to a fallen tree. The mare raised her head as he approached, though she paid him and his black stallion little mind, finding the greenery below more appealing. He noticed the horse wore a sidesaddle and Damon’s eyebrows drew down as he looked for another steed. The mare was a fine horse, her saddle also of noble quality, yet it was unlikely a lady of nobility would have ridden out alone. A lady would never be found unchaperoned. It could ruin her reputation.
Scanning the tree line along the wide river, he became more puzzled as time progressed. Had the lady come to some harm? Where was she?
A sudden ripple in the water caught his attention. A woman rose, gasping for breath, taking the air deep into her lungs before she laughed, flipping onto her back, floating around as she gazed up at the blue sky.
It took Damon a moment to overcome his shock at the woman’s sudden appearance before he noticed she wore nothing but her slip. A very sheer slip. His eyes moved hungrily over the wet material, which clung to the vibrant curves underneath. The round softness of her breasts and the darker shadow at the apex of her sex
intrigued him, as it would any hot-blooded male. His cock hardened as he sat upon his steed, conflicted between twin desires—to watch, or to make the girl aware of his presence? The former won out, and he encouraged his steed backwards, into the thickness of the forest along the river, concealing their presence. He was thankful for the soft splatter of water falling from the small waterfall upstream, masking his steed’s hoof falls.
Unable to bear not viewing her for long, Damon dismounted and tethered his stallion to a branch before hurrying back towards the river, where he perched himself against a tree like a hunter stalking his prey.
The girl, who he could now see clearly to be about eight and ten, perhaps, still floated carelessly on top of the water. She kicked her legs gracefully and ever so slightly, to keep herself from drifting downriver. Upon each movement, as a leg bent, the wet material of her slip clung to her sex, teasing him with glimpses of the hidden treasure.
His cock pulsed in his breeches, reminding Damon it had been too long since he had bedded a woman. Shifting his stance to release the tension behind the fabric, Damon groaned. Instead of easing his discomfort, it seemed to have advanced it. How divine it would feel to sink into the warmth of a woman’s sheath at that moment, pounding into her heavenly softness with the sun’s heat at his back. He shifted his stance again. Blast it!
His mind then travelled over the possibilities of who this woman could be. Several properties surrounded his own and shared access to the river. Her steed indicated she was a lady of quality—her identity could fall to a number of daughters of lords in the area.
The soft and carefree humming of the woman focused his attention back to her tempting body as it floated on the water’s surface. This section of the river was calm, the stream flowing little, yet enough to turn her around, exposing her as a delectable feast for his eyes.
His reverie was cut short as she rolled onto her stomach and leisurely swam towards the bank where her horse waited. Stepping out of the water, she climbed a large, flat boulder, which sat half submerged a few feet from where he stood.
Portrait of a Scandal Page 16
