Portrait of a Scandal

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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 camera 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.