Regency Scandal: Some Like It Wicked / Some Like to Shock

‘He is going to ask you to be his mistress, of course!’ Genevieve announced excitedly.

Exactly the conclusion Pandora had come to.

‘Would not such a request make his bed a little overcrowded, when there is already another lady occupying it?’ she reminded Genevieve sharply.

‘That is just too, too wicked, Pandora!’ Genevieve laughed gaily at what she obviously took to be Pandora’s dry humour. ‘Obviously he has finally tired of Patricia Stirling and now seeks to replace her with you.’

‘How flattering!’ Pandora’s scathing tone showed that she meant exactly the opposite.

‘But is this not exactly what we discussed previously, Pandora?’ her friend cajoled. ‘For each of us to take an exciting lover, or lovers, before this tedious Season comes to an end?’

Yes, that was certainly what Genevieve had proposed, Pandora recalled all too clearly. A daring and scandalous suggestion, which Pandora had preferred not to answer directly at the time. She had since realised that Sophia had not seemed particularly enthused about it, either.

She stood up restlessly. ‘That doesn’t mean I would ever choose Rupert Stirling to be that lover.’

‘Why on earth not?’ Genevieve looked up at her incredulously. ‘He has the looks of a Greek god. A fallen angel. A veritable—’

‘Devil in disguise—and it is a thin disguise at that!’ Pandora put in firmly.

‘Did I hear someone mention my name?’

Pandora spun around so quickly at the sound of Rupert’s amused voice that she felt quite dizzy. Even more so as she looked upon his handsome ‘fallen angel’ face as he stood slightly behind Genevieve’s obviously disconcerted butler. Her heart seemed to cease beating as she took in his impeccable appearance in a superfine of charcoal grey fitting perfectly to his wide shoulders, beneath which he wore a pale-grey waistcoat over pristine white linen, with black pantaloons moulding to his long and muscular legs.

Rupert Stirling’s tailor must weep with joy at how finely this gentleman wore his clothes, whereas Pandora found herself barely able to breathe at his sudden disturbing appearance in the doorway to Genevieve’s parlour!

Rupert’s earlier feelings of frustration with Pandora at her continued and surely deliberate elusiveness, receded slightly as he enjoyed the shocked expression on her face.

Having called at her home this morning, and then again this afternoon, and both times been informed that ‘her Grace is not at home’, Rupert had lost no time in ascertaining exactly where her Grace had gone to this afternoon. Noting how disconcerted Pandora was by his unexpected appearance here, he couldn’t help but feel a certain sly sense of satisfaction!

‘His Grace, the Duke of Stratton,’ the butler announced with obvious apology to the mistress of the house for not having managed to inform her of the identity of the visitor before he had appeared in her parlour.

But that had been deliberately manipulated by Rupert; after chasing around after Pandora for most of the day, he hadn’t wanted to give her the opportunity of escaping him yet again—for instance, by trying to leave the house by another route than the front door.

Having a woman avoid his company, in the marked way Pandora had today, was a new experience for Rupert altogether; usually he was the one who had to avoid the company of women whom he had no wish to see or speak to.

‘Stratton.’ Genevieve Forster had now risen to her feet in order to effect a graceful curtsy, that elegance of movement accompanied by a mischievous twinkle in her deep-blue eyes as she gave a glance in the direction of the obviously still-stunned Pandora.

Rupert handed his hat and cane to the butler before striding into the small, intimate parlour in which the two ladies had chosen to sit and converse. ‘Your servant, ma’am.’ He bent solicitously over the hand the Duchess of Woollerton extended to him. ‘And Pandora,’ he added deliberately as he turned to look down the length of his nose at her.

Pandora gave herself a mental shake as she saw the unmistakable mockery in Rupert’s amused yet challenging grey eyes. If he thought to disconcert her—even though he obviously had—then she had no intention of adding to his air of triumph by continuing to be so discombobulated! ‘Rupert,’ she greeted him coolly. ‘What brings you here on such a beautiful spring afternoon?’ She was perfectly capable of issuing challenges of her own, if that was how it was to be between them.

‘Why, you do, of course, my dear Pandora,’ he drawled. ‘My apologies if that seems … less than polite to you, your Grace.’ He turned to smile charmingly at Genevieve.

‘No offence taken, I assure you, Stratton,’ she said drily. ‘Would you care to join us for tea?’

‘Not today, if you do not mind. I had thought to take Pandora for a carriage ride before the hour grows too late.’

Pandora’s back stiffened. ‘I have my own carriage outside—’

‘I took the liberty of speaking with your groom before coming in and assured him that he could leave as you would be travelling home in my carriage with me.’

She drew in a sharp, indignant breath. ‘You had absolutely no right—’

‘I have every right.’

‘Would it be better if I left the two of you alone so that you might settle this matter in private?’ Genevieve suggested as she obviously saw the mutinous expression on Pandora’s hot, flushed face.

‘No!’

‘Yes.’

Pandora glared across at him for his contradictory statement, becoming even more incensed by that look of hurt innocence he had affected in his expression. Hah! She didn’t believe this particular gentleman possessed even an ounce of innocence! ‘We really cannot ask Genevieve to leave her own parlour.’

‘I’m more than happy to do so, Pandora,’ that lady assured her.

Pandora sent her friend a reproving frown. ‘Perhaps it would be best for all concerned if his Grace and I were to leave you to the comfort of your own parlour and finish this … discussion in his carriage back to my home, since he has chosen to dismiss my own?’ A carriage which they would be sharing alone, Pandora having decided earlier not to bring Henley, as she was only visiting Genevieve.

‘An excellent idea,’ ‘his Grace’ said without apology for his actions, despite her obvious accusation. ‘It has been a pleasure, your Grace,’ he said to Genevieve.

‘Indeed it has,’ she returned lightly.

‘You may be assured I shall see Pandora safely returned to her own residence.’ He smiled that charming smile—a smile which she could, at that moment, quite cheerfully have slapped off his handsome face! Which, considering she had never before been a person who felt driven to violence, showed just how frustrating and annoying she found his unmitigated arrogance.

‘Oh, do stop glowering, Pandora!’ Rupert shot her an impatient glance minutes later as they once again sat opposite each other in the comfort of his carriage. ‘But as you’re already cross with me, I may as well also tell you that in your absence this afternoon I’ve had the locks changed at Highbury House.’ He took the opportunity of Pandora’s brief, incredulous silence to admire how much the colour of the gown and pretty bonnet she was wearing today both suited her so well and were an exact match in colour for those fine violet-coloured eyes—

Violet-coloured eyes, which were currently shooting sparks of flame in his direction! ‘You-have-had-the-locks-changed-on-my-home?’ she snapped.

He gave a haughty nod. ‘Whoever entered your home last night did not break in—’

‘You have no way of knowing that!’

‘I know that no windows were broken, no locks smashed, which would seem to imply—’ ‘Whatever you wish it to imply!’ she interrupted, clenching her fists in sheer frustration. ‘You truly are arrogance personified! The single most—’ The rest of her obviously intended diatribe was cut off as Rupert, already tired and irritated from the hours he’d spent chasing this woman around today, swiftly removed the distance that separated them by taking her firmly in his arms and placing his mouth against the alluring softness of hers.

Pandora was so shocked by the suddenness of having him kiss her that, for several stunned moments, she could do no more than remain acquiescent in his arms as those chiselled lips moved confidently over hers. Pleasurably. Seductively.

Sensations which she surely could not allow to continue, but at the same time knew she had no strength to stop!

It seemed almost as if the hours in between Rupert kissing her finger better in that frankly erotic and sensual way, and his kissing her masterfully on the lips now, had never been. As if the passion that now flared so suddenly between them was inevitable. Irresistible.

Pandora tilted her head slightly to better appreciate the feel of that mouth against her own as Rupert now sipped and tasted her lips at his leisure. Her arms moved up slowly until her gloved fingers were able to grasp the broadness of his muscled shoulders beneath his superfine, her breasts—sensitive with that now-familiar tingling—crushed against the hardness of his chest as his arms tightened about her waist and drew her even closer, the very air about them seeming charged with sexual tension.

Pandora gasped slightly as she felt one of Rupert’s hands cup beneath the swell of her breast, that gasp becoming a groan as he ran the soft pad of his thumb lightly against the swollen and sensitive tip, and causing the pleasure to course hotly through her veins and the swollen folds between her thighs to dampen.

She forgot everything but that pleasure as Rupert now took advantage of her parted lips to run the smoothness of his tongue over them, before entering her mouth. His marauding tongue sought out every sensitive dip and heated hollow, claiming her, possessing her, all the while his hand continued to caress her breast. His fingers felt deliciously cool against her heated flesh as they now touched the bare swell of flesh above her gown, before he pushed that soft material aside and cupped the fullness of her bared breast in his hand, gently squeezing, kneading, before his long fingers laid claim to the pouting tip.

Pandora had never known such pleasure as that which completely engulfed her as Rupert continued that sensual assault upon the sensitive tip of her bared breast, those skilful fingers alternately pinching and then stroking the engorged nipple at the same time as his tongue plunged rhythmically into the heated cavern of her mouth. To her wicked delight, that secret place between her thighs began pulsing with the same hot demanding rhythm.

What would have happened next Pandora had no idea, but the discreet clearing of a throat outside the coach brought her back to at least some of her senses before the words spoken by Rupert’s groom penetrated the fog that now seemed to have engulfed her brain. ‘We are arrived at the Duchess’s home, your Grace.’

Pandora pulled away and looked up at Rupert with wide, stricken eyes, quickly noting the silver glitter of his own eyes as he looked back at her, and the slight flush to his cheeks, the curve of his lips seeming fuller, more sensual than ever.

She shook her head in an effort to clear her befuddled and fogged brain, trying to remember why she had known that allowing this to happen would be a bad idea. A very bad idea.

Ah. Yes, she had it now. ‘The answer is no, Stratton!’ she snapped crisply even as she pulled completely out of his arms and turned to indicate that the groom waiting outside should open the carriage door for her. She tried not to notice that the servant’s gaze carefully avoided meeting hers as he appeared to stare up at the sky instead.

Rupert reached out to grasp Pandora’s arm, arresting her descent and causing her to turn back to him sharply, those violet eyes once again shooting angry sparks in his direction. An anger completely at odds with the aroused flush in her cheeks and the swell of her breasts still visible to him, the sweet curve of her lips also slightly swollen from the passion of his kisses. ‘The answer to what is no?’ he queried gruffly.

Her eyes widened with indignation. ‘Don’t attempt to play games with me, Stratton!’

The demanding throbbing of his engorged shaft clearly stated that the only game which he wished to play was one where she was naked and horizontal and he was buried to the hilt between her silken thighs!

He gave a frustrated sigh. ‘I truthfully have no idea what you’re talking about, Pandora.’

Her eyes burned deeply purple. ‘Then let me state quite clearly, here and now, that I have no wish, either now or at any time in the future, to ever take up the dubious honour of becoming your next mistress!’

Rupert was so stunned by this heartfelt avowal that his fingers loosened momentarily on the silkiness of her bare arm, allowing her to pull free and descend from the carriage before sweeping majestically through the open front door of her house, the butler closing it swiftly behind her, as he had no doubt been instructed to do.

Rupert fell back against the upholstered seat of his carriage, too surprised still to do any more than that.

Pandora believed that his invitation to the opera yesterday, his wishing to speak with her today, their kiss just now, all to be a precursor to him wanting her to become his mistress?

Hell!

He might have found that assumption amusing, and her response to it even more so, if it was not also damned insulting! And what had she meant by calling it a dubious honour?

‘Do you wish to return to Stratton House now, your Grace?’

Rupert looked blankly at his patiently waiting groom for several seconds, before reason finally returned and his resolve firmed. ‘No, by God, I do not!’ He surged out of the carriage on to the cobbled street. ‘Wait here, Gregson.’ He glanced up grimly at the windows of Pandora’s home. ‘I may be some time.’

Pandora had barely had the time to march up the staircase, enter her restored and tidy bedchamber and remove her bonnet, before the door behind her was suddenly thrown open and an obviously incensed Rupert filled the open doorway. ‘What on earth—?’

‘For your information, madam …’ he slammed her bedchamber door shut behind him and began walking steadily, stealthily, towards her ‘… it is usual to wait until one is asked before one refuses.’

Pandora, having backed against her dressing table, now held her hands up protectively in front of her as she stared at him with wide, apprehensive eyes. He came to a halt just inches in front of her, his height and the powerful width of his muscled shoulders looming over intimidatingly. ‘I did not— I had thought—’

‘No, madam,’ he bit out between gritted, even, white teeth, ‘I don’t believe you gave any thought at all to this situation before insulting me so soundly.’

Pandora didn’t even pretend not to know what he meant. ‘Genevieve agrees with me that it’s obvious by your attentions towards me these past two days that it’s your intention to ask me to be your mistress.’

‘Flattered as I am that you’ve discussed me so intimately with your friend—’ the iciness of his tone clearly indicating the opposite ‘—I have to inform the pair of you that the conclusions you’ve drawn regarding my recent so-called “attentions” are totally in error.’

‘Oh …’ Pandora had never felt so humiliated. So utterly and completely devastated with the emotion that she wished she might crawl away and hide somewhere. Anywhere. An option clearly not open to her when Rupert continued to loom over her so ominously. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, an action that glittering silver gaze followed exclusively. ‘I apologise if I have caused you insult, your Grace—er—Rupert,’ she amended as those furious silver eyes narrowed in dire warning. ‘It was not my intention to do so. I merely wished to—’

‘Refuse the dubious honour of becoming my mistress before I felt compelled to voice it.’

She had said that, Pandora acknowledged with an inward wince. A remark which he’d obviously taken exception to. ‘Well. That is … Of course, I’m sure that many women would be deeply flattered to so much as be considered—’

‘Oh, give it up, Pandora,’ he bit out harshly. ‘And accept that there’s no going back from your insult to me.’

Her wince was outward this time. ‘I was angry when I made that remark—’

‘Because you had assumed I meant to insult you by making such an offer!’ A nerve pulsed in his tightly clenched jaw.

‘Well … yes. Rupert, do you think perhaps you might … move away slightly?’ Her neck was starting to ache from looking up at him towering over her so threateningly. Indeed, he seemed to have swallowed up all the air in the room, making it impossible for her to breathe!

‘No.’

She blinked at his uncompromising tone. ‘You are in my bedchamber uninvited, sir,’ she attempted to rally. ‘For the second time in as many days. The least you could do is cease these attempts to intimidate me.’

Rupert gave her accusation some thought, decided that perhaps she was right and he was guilty of intimidation and took a single step back. ‘Better?’ he challenged.

‘It is a … slight improvement, yes,’ she allowed with a small sigh.

He felt some of his initial anger began to fade as he considered the amusement of their present situation instead. Pandora Maybury, with her unusual beauty, golden curls and mesmerising violet eyes, had minutes ago insulted him and his honour, more roundly, more completely, than any other living person. Perhaps because any gentleman who had ever dared to speak to him like that would have very quickly found himself at the other end of Rupert’s duelling pistols.

His amusement faded somewhat as he recalled that to have indeed been the fate of Pandora’s husband and her lover …

He moved away from her until he stood with his back to the room, looking out of the window into the street below. His carriage and four still stood on the cobbles below, waiting to take him back to Stratton House, an option he would perhaps be wise to take.

If not for the presence of the woman who awaited him there …

His shoulders stiffened with renewed resolve as he turned back to face the now cautiously watchful Pandora. ‘Contrary to general belief, the offer I intend making to you is not of becoming my mistress—but my wife!’

Chapter Eight

Pandora stared across at Rupert uncomprehendingly, sure she could not have heard him correctly. He certainly could not possibly have just asked her to— No, whatever nonsense had just left those chiselled lips had been stated; the arrogantly Rupert Stirling did not merely ask!

Even so, she knew she could not have heard him correctly. That the toplofty, the elegant Rupert Stirling, Duke of Stratton, Marquis of Devlin, Earl of Charwood, etc., etc., could not possibly have just stated he wished for her, the scandalous Pandora Maybury, to become his Duchess!

‘Whilst in some ways I find your silence a welcome relief, I also find it less flattering than even your earlier insults,’ he drawled into the tense silence.

Pandora blinked before focusing her narrowed gaze upon him. ‘Is this your idea of a joke?’ she challenged. ‘Because if it is, then it’s in very poor taste.’ She moved impatiently to the middle of the bedchamber. ‘I believe I must ask you to leave now.’ She eyed him frostily.

Not quite the response Rupert had been hoping for; and how ironic that the first—and hopefully the last—marriage proposal he made, should be seen as nothing more than an attempt at mockery on his part! Yes, this was definitely less than flattering to him …

‘Would you mind explaining exactly why you think I would ever consider the idea of marriage to any woman to be in the least amusing?’ he asked.

Those violet eyes flashed her displeasure. ‘Because of who I am, sir. Or what the ton considers me to be, at least,’ she added with slight bitterness.

Having learnt all that he could of this woman in the last few days, Rupert was now only too well aware of the contempt with which the ton had treated Pandora since the death of her husband and her lover, of how most had preferred to forget her very existence during her year of mourning, and for the main part gave her the cut direct since her return to society some weeks ago, only the Duchesses of Clayborne and Woollerton choosing to seek out and value her company.

None of which Rupert found in the least a hindrance to Pandora becoming his Duchess. In fact, he would much prefer to know the true nature of the woman who was to become his wife rather than to rudely discover it after the event.

He raised his brows. ‘And exactly what is that, Pandora?’

She gave him a vexed glance. ‘My husband and Sir Thomas Stanley both died in a duel.’

‘Yes …?’

Her mouth tightened. ‘Surely my meaning is obvious?’

‘Not to me, no.’

‘Oh, please!’ she scoffed. ‘I am disgraced, sir. Only accepted into certain homes of the ton because my friends insist upon it. Why should you, or any other gentleman, ever wish to ally yourself to such a woman, let alone offer her marriage? Indeed, the fact that you have twice now entered my bedchamber uninvited shows the complete lack of regard in which you also hold me!’

Rupert watched through narrowed lids as Pandora moved restlessly about the bedchamber, her cheeks having paled to a delicate ivory and making those violet-coloured eyes appear almost purple. ‘Or it could convey the eagerness I feel to share your bed?’

She eyed him sharply, suspiciously, for several long seconds before sighing wearily. ‘Any member of the ton would happily tell you that there’s no need for you to offer me marriage in order to achieve that.’

‘And I believe I’ve already assured you—many times—that I rarely, if ever, listen to the opinions of the ton,’ Rupert drawled. ‘I certainly have no intention of seeking their approval regarding my choice of wife.’

‘Then you are a fool, sir.’ She paced agitatedly, the colour now back in her cheeks, blonde curls bouncing with each step she took. ‘Your very name would be tainted by association.’

Rupert looked down the length of his nose. ‘I am the Duke of Stratton, madam, and if you were to accept my marriage proposal you would become the Duchess of Stratton; ergo, there would be no name remaining by which I might be tainted.’

‘You—’

‘Yes, Pandora, it is I who must decide whom and when I shall marry.’ His top lip curled back in haughty disdain. ‘None of the ton were privy to the intimacy of your marriage, were they? Nor were they present during your liaisons with Stanley—or, at least, I presume they weren’t?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Pandora snapped her impatience with that last remark.

He nodded tersely. ‘I would rather know the truth of my future bride than otherwise.’

The truth? The truth was so very different from what any of the ton imagined!

Could she confide the ‘intimacy of her marriage’ to Rupert Stirling, of all people? If he believed her, then it would clear her of every accusation that had ever been made against her a year ago. If he believed her …

Would anyone believe Pandora if she were to claim that her three years of marriage to Barnaby Maybury had been nothing but a sham from start to finish? A smokescreen behind which Barnaby hid his true inclinations? Even more shocking, would anyone believe, accept, that the duel, fought by Sir Thomas Stanley and Barnaby a year ago, had not been over her at all, but another man with whom they had discovered they were both … intimately involved?

Pandora had learnt the shocking truth of her husband’s inclinations on her wedding night, when he had come to her bedchamber for the sole purpose of telling her that he would not be joining her there ever again, that the mere idea of touching, let alone making love to, a woman’s body totally and utterly repulsed him.

Pandora had been stunned, sickened, when Barnaby had gone on to reveal that he’d only told her these details of his private life at all because his having settled all her father’s debts now meant she could never tell another living soul as to the true circumstances of their marriage if she did not also wish to bring about the ruination of her own father. The humiliation Pandora had suffered, at this shocking knowledge of her husband’s desire for other men, had ensured her silence on the subject even after her father had died.