Lady Mariel's Scandalous Love: Regency Romance (Regency Scandals Book 2)

by Arietta Richmond

  “Russian? Why? That seems rather an unusual thing to look for.”

  “My grandmother was Russian. My father’s mother. Grandfather met a Russian aristocrat at Eton, and they became friends. Then, when he did the Grand Tour, he visited his friend – and met his friend’s sister. He fell for her, utterly, married her, and brought her back to England. Grandmama missed having others to speak to in her native tongue, so she taught me – to both speak it and write it, when I was tiny. Like most small children, I simply absorbed everything I was taught, never considering if it was difficult at all. But then, it seems I have a facility for languages, as I have since learnt three others, as well. Books in Italian, French and Greek are fairly easy to come by, but books in Russian are very rare in England.”

  “How did I never know this, until now? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It… aaahhh… never really seemed relevant. After all, I’ve never yet found a Russian book with explicit pictures…”

  They both fell into a fit of the giggles at the fact that the presence of explicit pictures was Mariel’s definition of relevant.

  ~~~~~

  Dash carefully brushed the dust off the surface of the book in his hand. It had been packed at the very bottom of the crate that he was currently working on – a crate of items obtained some years ago. He had forgotten its existence, until he had lifted it from the crumbling wood shavings today.

  He took it to the table, where the rest of the crate’s contents were stacked, and dropped into a chair to look through it. As soon as he opened it, the memory came to him of the day that he had found it. He had been in a small town in the South of Italy, on a warm summer’s day, and had wandered into the shop which faced onto the town square. The front of the building seemed fairly small, but within, there was a veritable warren of rooms, going back into the hillside which the building nestled against.

  Inside was a cool respite from the sun, and, as his eyes had adjusted to the dim light, he had wandered further in – and discovered a corner packed with books. He had been unable to resist going through them – who knew what one might find in such a place? His instinct had been right – under a tumble of old farming almanacs, he had discovered treasure.

  And also utter frustration.

  For the book that he now held again, which he had found in that shop, was in Russian. The pictures within it were erotic, explicit, and very much in the Persian style – but the entire text was in Russian. The shopkeeper had shrugged, and declared himself unable to read Russian either – ‘but the pictures Signore – was not it worth having for the pictures?’

  Dash had agreed that it was. Now he studied it again. Just as he had then, he most desperately wanted to know what the text said. For whilst the pictures were reminiscent of the Persian style, they were pictures that he had not seen before, in any other book. Which suggested to him that the text might also be an erotic piece that he had never seen before. And that meant that, compulsive as he was about such things, he most desperately wanted to know what it said.

  Where on earth would he find someone to translate it for him? Someone who read Russian well, and was of a suitable temperament not to be utterly shocked by the content of what they were translating. It seemed improbable that he would ever find such a person, in England. He ran his fingers gently over the surface of an illustration, then sighed, and closed the book.

  Stacking it with the other books he had unpacked that day, he lifted the stack, and carried them to the room he had designated for books, tucking them neatly onto a shelf. Perhaps he should stop for the day, and do something else. Finding the Russian book had left him feeling out of sorts. A visit to Fortescue Grange might help – some conversation with Alex, and reminiscences of their time in Italy, should cheer him. And maybe, if he was lucky, Alex would know of someone who spoke Russian, and was hard to shock.

  ~~~~~

  Mariel deposited the armload of books on the table, and dropped into the chair beside it. She had taken to using this small room, which had a door both to the hallway, and directly into the library, as a sort of office, for her exploration of interesting things she had found, as she dug through the furthest corners and highest shelves of the Fortescue Grange library.

  It was the same room that she had waited in, that fateful night, listening with interest until the right moment arrived for her to ‘discover’ Selina and Alex in a very compromising position in the library. Every time she came in here, the memory resurfaced, and she envied Selina more.

  She brushed the dust off her skirts, then reached out to lift the first book off the top of today’s pile of finds. This one did actually seem to be somewhat scandalous – a novel, which was intensely focussed on the pleasure that a gentleman might get from disciplining his wife. There were no pictures, but the text was most definitely explicit, and her face heated as she read it. It raised some very interesting questions for her – it implied, very directly, that being punished – spanked, or caned, or similar – by a gentleman, could cause a woman to become aroused.

  She would have to look into that – was it mentioned in other books? It seemed, at first, to be improbable… yet… most things written in books had some grain of truth in them. She set it aside, and selected the next book. This one was, ostensibly, an anatomical text – but a text written by a person with a singular obsession for the female form.

  Each book was intriguing, and increased her fascination with the sexual acts, and the way that people thought about them. She really needed to find a man she cared for, soon, so that she could explore such things in infinite detail! It was all utterly intriguing, and this library was turning out to be a treasure trove for her. But, sadly, so far she had not found even one book written in Russian.

  As she lifted another book, this one a medical treatise, explaining how physicians might treat various female ailments – which treatments often seemed to bear a remarkable resemblance to the sexual act – voices came to her from within the library.

  She had not shut the door completely as she came through, for her arms had been occupied with the books, so it stood a little ajar, allowing the sound to reach her. At least one of the voices was Alex’s, she was sure. She should shut the door, or leave the room – but curiosity won over propriety, as it so often did for her. She had not meant to eavesdrop… but now that she was here…

  She stilled completely, and listened. The other voice… she had definitely heard it before – Lord Longwood, perhaps?

  “Have a seat, Dash. The fire is pleasantly warm, in here, and the armchairs the most comfortable in the house. I’ll pour us some brandy. You look rather worn, if you don’t mind me saying so – is there a problem?”

  Mariel heard the clink of the stopper being removed from the brandy decanter, then the distinctive sound of liquid being poured. She wished that she could see the two men, for Lord Longwood’s delay in answering seemed odd.

  Eventually, though, his voice came again.

  “Not a problem really. An annoyance, more like. I am still unpacking the collection – I did not realise just how much I’d collected, until I got back, and saw all the crates stacked in the East Wing. Today, the crate I was working on contained mostly books. Half of them I’d forgotten about – I bought them, packed them, sent them off here, and went on with my life in Italy.”

  Alex gave a snort of laughter, before speaking himself.

  “And that’s the annoyance? Your own… overenthusiastic… collecting?”

  “Only partly – It’s a delight, mostly, discovering these things all over again. People are just so damned ingenious, when it comes to these matters. But today’s annoyance is caused by one book. I bought it in some tiny mountain town in southern Italy – God knows how it found its way there, but when I discovered it, it was half buried in farming almanacs. It’s beautiful – some of the best illustrations I have seen, in any of the books I’ve collected – very much after the Persian style.”

  “And that makes it an annoyance? I wouldn’t have
thought so – after all. Persian illustrations are usually rather…”

  “No, no, no. It’s not the illustrations that are an annoyance – far from it. It’s the text. The damn thing is entirely written in Russian. I’ve never seen those illustrations in any other book, so I suspect that the text is also unique to this one – and I can’t damn well read it. More than that, I don’t know anyone who can, who might translate it for me.”

  “Ah, I see. That does present rather a challenge, doesn’t it?”

  There was silence for a moment.

  Mariel’s heart was beating so hard that she wondered that the men in the other room couldn’t hear it. A book in Russian. That was what Lord Longwood had just said. From his words, she had no idea what that book was about, beyond the fact that it was part of his mysterious collection, but that seemed almost irrelevant – it was a book in Russian, and she craved seeing it, holding it, reading it.

  Lord Longwood spoke again, his tone rather dispirited.

  “I don’t suppose that you know anyone who might help, Alex? Someone who speaks Russian well, reads it well, and isn’t… easily shocked… shall we say?”

  “Sorry, Dash, I can’t say that I do. There are a couple of the high sticklers of the ton – women, mostly – who have Russian relatives, but I don’t know them well, and they are, most definitely, not the sort of women you’d want to expose to that sort of material.”

  “I was afraid you’d say something like that. Ah well, I’ll just have to keep looking – one day, I’ll find someone, I’m sure. Or maybe I will find a book in English, or Italian, with the same pictures.”

  Their conversation turned to other things, but Mariel had ceased truly listening. Her mind was locked onto the idea of the Russian book in Lord Longwood’s collection. A book that she could, she was sure, translate for him – no matter what topic it covered. She just had to find a way to subtly let him know that she spoke Russian. That should be all it would take, surely?”

  Chapter Four

  Over the next few days, that overheard conversation kept coming back to Mariel. Lord Longwood had not visited again, since that day, and she was at a loss to work out how she might discover more. She wanted to know what that book was about – wanted to know more about his whole mysterious collection, for that matter. It was the kind of secret that drove her quite mad, not knowing.

  But she, as a woman, could not simply drive or ride over to Longwood Peak and ask him – she might be rebellious and prone to taking risks, but that would be a step far too far. What made it worse was that she knew that Alex knew all of the details that she wanted. Yet she couldn’t ask him – could she? After all, she had been eavesdropping on his private conversation when she’d heard about it!

  She couldn’t even discuss it with Selina, for she was, unusually for her, embarrassed by the predicament that eavesdropping had placed her in.

  On the third day, as she moved from her little ‘office’ back into the library, to dig through yet more dusty corners, she almost collided with Alex, who was walking towards the main door, a book in his hand. She swallowed, stepping back.

  “Mariel! I am sorry, I wasn’t paying attention – I had forgotten that you were using that room. It’s so rare for anyone to use that door. In fact, in the last year or more, I suspect that you are the only person who has – and glad I am that you did so, at least just before Christmas!”

  She laughed lightly at his reference to the evening of the scandal that had freed him to marry Selina. As she did, she wondered – could she ask him? Right now, with no one else about, would be the perfect time… She hesitated a moment, then decided – why not be brazen? After all, he did sort of owe her assistance, in return for her helping by ‘discovering’ them in a scandalous compromise.

  “Um, Alex… might I ask you a question?”

  “Of course,” he raised an eyebrow, looking at her – hesitance was not a normal part of her personality, after all. “What would you like to know?”

  She fidgeted, making his eyebrow rise even higher, then blurted out her next words.

  “First, before I can ask you, I have a confession to make.”

  “That sounds very dramatic – do tell me more.”

  He was obviously amused, and she wondered if this was wise, after all – but it was too late now.

  “I… aaah… I happened to be in this room, a few days ago, and I… overheard a conversation.”

  “I see. A conversation?”

  “Yes. Between you, and Lord Longwood. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop… I was just in the room, with the door not quite closed, having just taken more books in there, when you came in. I should have left. But… I didn’t. And what I heard made me want to stay and hear more. And that left me utterly frustrated, because it became obvious that there was something you both knew, that I didn’t, which would have made sense of the conversation, more.”

  “And because of that, you want to ask me about…”

  “The book he mentioned. The one written in Russian. I want to know what it is about, what sort of book it is.”

  Alex gave a startled laugh, then stopped, and looked at her, as if considering something carefully. She almost squirmed on the spot, so intense was that look, but she managed to stay still and wait. Eventually, his lips twisted into a wry smile, as if he found something decidedly funny about the entire situation. She wanted to stamp her foot in frustration.

  “And why do you want to know that? Why does a book in Russian interest you, when you have a library full of books in more readable languages to explore, right here?”

  Mariel felt herself blush – she rarely admitted her ability with languages to anyone, for young ladies were not supposed to be ‘too intellectual’, and avoiding mentioning it had become habit. But this was Alex – she knew, from everything that Selina had told her, that he was different, no matter that he was a Duke.

  He waited, that amused expression never leaving his face.

  “A book in Russian interests me, because I can read Russian. And books in Russian are rather rare in England.”

  He looked truly startled by her words.

  “You can read Russian? How did you come by that skill – for it is as rare as the books written in the language. At least in this country.”

  “My Grandmother – my father’s mother, was Russian. She taught me, when I was tiny, that she might have someone else to speak Russian with, that something of her family heritage might be preserved here – for my father had singularly failed to learn it, as a child – in fact he had little talent for languages of any kind. She is near ten years buried, and I know that my skills in the language are fading, as I have so little opportunity to use it. So, whilst I search through libraries for… interesting books…”

  “Ah yes, Selina has mentioned your interests to me.”

  He was amused again, and she blushed, but went on.

  “…interesting books, I also search for books in Russian – and almost never find them. Lord Longwood said, if I heard it aright, that he wished someone to translate it? Someone… not easily shocked, I think the words used were? I believe that I could do that, if I might see it? And you already know that I am not easily shocked…”

  “I expect that you probably could do that, Lady Mariel, for you are determined, and, as you say, not easily shocked. Still… I will need to discuss this idea with Longwood, before I can tell you anything more than you already know.”

  “Not even the topic of the book?”

  “Especially not the topic of the book.”

  ~~~~~

  The day was crisp and clear, the pale winter sun drawing glittering sparkles from the melting frost, as Alex rode across the fields towards Longwood Peak. Beneath him, Sovrano moved with an urgent energy, glad to be out of the stables after the winter months. Alex gave him his head, and they raced across the glittering landscape, full of the simple pleasure of movement.

  Eventually, he brought the horse back to a steady walk, allowing him to cool down witho
ut chilling.

  At Longwood Peak, a footman rushed out to take the horse and lead it around to the stables.

  “His name is Sovrano. See that he gets a rub down and some hay, for I’m likely to be here for some hours.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  Alex went up the steps, and Chalmers opened the door, smiling as Alex stepped into the foyer.

  “Where might I find Lord Longwood, Chalmers?”

  “In the storage rooms, on this floor of the East Wing, Your Grace. Let me show you.”

  Alex followed him down the long hall towards the end of the main wing, and through a rather worn looking door, then along another short corridor. Chalmers tapped on a door, opened it, and announced, still standing well back from the opening, through which a puff of dust exited, “His Grace of Southolton,” then waved Alex past.

  Inside, Alex found Dash standing amidst huge piles of crates, digging into the open one in front of him. Curls of wood shavings were tangled in his dark hair, and every movement disturbed more dust.

  “Well, you certainly didn’t exaggerate when you said that you had collected a lot! No wonder you didn’t invite me in to this room last time I was here.”

  “Oh, this is only one room – there are another three, full of crates I haven’t opened yet. Plus the things that I have unpacked, which are placed in various rooms of this wing, but not yet displayed in any sort of proper order. I’ll show you some of it, if you like.”

  Dash dug into the crate again, as Alex watched, and pulled out a cloth wrapped bundle, shaking the wood shavings from its surface. Dust puffed into the air. He then carried the wrapped object away from the crate, and gently unfolded the cloth from around it. The light through the window caught the object as he lifted it free, and Alex gasped, stepping forward to get a better view of it.

  In his hands, Dash held a polished object, made of what looked to be onyx, or some similar very dark stone. An object which was, now that he saw it clearly, a very precise rendition of a very large cock. The Italians called such things ‘dilettos’ – Alex had seen them before, but never one made of black stone, nor one quite as large as this one. Just the sight of it set his mind to imagining its use, and how a woman might react to such a thing. How Selina might react. He licked his lips at the thought.