Authors: Miranda Powers
The interval came. Diana, Mariah and Fitzgerald took refreshments in their box. And then Diana saw him.
The stranger was outside their box. He wasn’t in white tie and tails like Fitzgerald. He had his usual shabby clothes on, and the first thing she noticed was that he had managed to get the buttons on his trousers repaired.
“Yes, what do you want man?” said Fitzgerald with authority.
“Beggin’ your pardon sir,” said the stranger. “I’ve a message for Lady Diana from her husband if I may, with your permission sir, divulge it to M’lady in er… confidence sir.” His delivery was worth a role on the stage.
Diana hoped Fitzgerald wouldn’t see through him.
Mariah turned her face towards Diana and raised her left eyebrow. Diana sent back an almost imperceptible nod.
“Well, I don’t want you going anywhere unaccompanied with this ruffian,” said Fitzgerald.
“I’ll go with her,” said Mariah.
The two ladies stood. Fitzgerald stood in respect and then sat down as the ladies left the box. Diana closed the box’s door.
“I take it this is…?” said Mariah.
“Yes,” said Diana.
“I see,” said the stranger. “I just came to tell you that I am sailing for India in two days time. I thought it polite to let you know.”
Mariah stepped a discreet distance from the couple.
“Oh.”
“Well, that’s that then,” said the stranger turning to go.
Mariah stepped back to them. “You can’t go just like that man.”
“Excuse me Miss but I don’t think this is any of your business,” said the stranger.
“Indeed it is not. But obviously you two are a couple of fools if you part like this. She reached into her purse and pulled out a small key. She handed it to Diana. “This is for the rooms in the Pantiles, you know, where we used to play as children. We still own it. You have an hour and a half before the end of the play and a few minutes while people leave. I’ll cover for you. Be back here in one and a half hours, no later.”
Mariah opened the door and stepped into the box.
Diana heard her say: “Jolly bad luck. Diana has to sort out a couple of minor problems. She’ll miss the last act, but she’ll be back in time for carriages.”
“Is she safe with that man? Who is he?”
“Yes perfectly safe. He’s one of her servants.”
***
Diana walked along the Pantiles, past the spring that brought the wealthy and and well connected to Tunbridge Wells to take the waters now that it was fashionable after the Prince Regent’s visit. Her heart almost in her mouth beat like it would escape from her body. The stranger followed a few steps behind like a dutiful servant. They arrived at the door. Diana tried to insert the key, but her hand shook too much. The stranger took it from her, turned the key and pushed open the door. He held it for her as she entered and then closed it behind him.
They climbed the stairs to the room. A chaise lounge occupied the centre. Carpets lay rolled at the side. A rag doll sat on a shelf looking at them. Diana remembered it from when they used to play there as children pretending that this was their house.
The stranger took her hand and kissed it. Then he kissed her lips as his hand slipped down her décolletage and squeezed her nipple gently.
Her hands went inside his jacket, round his back and pulled out his shirt.
He reached down and lifted her dress, running his hands along the silk stockings until he reached the bare flesh of her thighs. She saw him blink with surprise when his fingers touched the uncovered hair between her legs.
“I hoped I would see you,” she said without the slightest trace of modesty.
He leaned her over the chaise lounge, lifted her dress up and put his finger inside her. She gasped with the pleasure and unbuckled his belt.
“Just a minute,” he said with a smile. “I need these trousers intact.” He undid the buttons. Diana took his erection in her hand and coaxed him towards her mouth. She took it between her lips and gently rubbed her tongue over and over the end while holding his stiffness between her forefinger and thumb moving it up and down, up and down.
She turned him over so he was on his back across the seat and straddled him. She felt it go in without resistance and gyrated sending little shocks of pleasure up and down her spine.
He eased her off him, stood her up with her hands on the back of this useful piece of furniture. He slipped off her dress to her feet and lifted it over her shoes laying it on a table. She stood naked save for her silk stockings and shoes, leaning over the chaise lounge with her back to him.
He entered her from behind making her gasp as his erection probed her clitoris from this different angle.
She didn’t want it to stop. In and out, in and out he continued to plough. She felt the wetness all around her blond nest.
He stopped, turned her around and kissed her on the lips. He lowered her to the floor, on the carpet. She looked up at him. He still wore his jacket and shirt but his trousers were off and so were his shoes and socks. His erection looked enormous.
“Hurry, put it in again,” she said.
He kneeled in between her wide apart legs, bent forward and ran his tongue down from her nipple to between her legs. His tongue went inside her making her shiver with passion. Then he lay on her, and she felt his hard penis slide inside.
She could feel each movement as it slid up and down without any resistance. His breathing was deep and regular. Then he seemed to lose control. He thrusted and thrusted with great strength sending her into paroxysms of ecstasy. Harder and harder he thrusted. Harder and harder she wanted him to thrust until she felt her whole body shudder like she’d been struck by lightening. He convulsed, and she felt him fill her up before a feeling came over her like every nerve in her body had relaxed.
They lay in each other’s arms unable to speak.
After a few minutes, Diana managed to say: “Why did you come for me? Was it just for this?”
“I couldn’t get you out of my mind after we met. No woman has ever done that to me before.”
“Why are you going to India?”
“I managed to get a commission in the East India Company. I can make my fortune there if I can take command of a friendly Maharajah’s army.”
“Why not a commission in the army here?”
“There are reasons. And I would never get rich in the army here.”
“So you are going out to rob the Indians?”
“Certainly not. No I can make my fortune legally and without robbing anyone.”
“Will you ever come back?”
“Some day.”
Diana felt a tear escape.
“Don’t be sad. You know this was never going to be forever. It isn’t possible.”
“Because we are of a different class?”
“No, we are not different classes. I’m the third son of a Duke, but I’ve been disowned for reasons with which I shall not bore you. No, this could not be forever because you are a married woman, and I am considered a pariah in this country.”
“Will you at least tell me your name?”
“Richard Devere-Scott, son of the Duke of Durham.”
Diana stood up and slipped on her dress while Richard put on his clothes.
“So I shall never see you again?”
“Never is a word I prefer not to use. Diana, you have created something in me that I thought I had lost. I want to regain my reputation so that I can hold my head high in society again. Going to India seems the only avenue I may take to achieve that goal.”
“And if you achieve your goal, will you come back?”
“I shall. And I shall seek you out wherever you are.”
Chapter 6
Diana knocked on the door of the Rectory. She hadn’t come to see the vicar; she had come to see his wife, Mrs Higgins. Had this woman been alive in ancient Greece she would have been the Oracle. She couldn’t make inquiries anywhere else or someone may ask too many questions. But eight months had passed since he had gone and she was desperate to know more about this enigmatic stranger with a secret.
“Do come in dear. Would you care to take tea?” said Mrs Higgins showing Diana into the drawing-room
“Yes please.”
Mrs Higgins fussed her maid to her task and then sat Diana down plumping up the cushions before sitting on the settee alongside her.
“Now what can I do for you Diana?”
“I’m just curious. I’ve come across a man by the name of Richard Devere-Scott, who purports to be the third son of the Duke of Durham. I just wondered if he was indeed genuine.”
“Oh dear Diana. I hope you and Sir Reginald are not thinking of entertaining this man socially.”
“Oh! I take it he is not genuine then?” Diana had no doubt that he was indeed genuine, but she still wanted to find out as much about him as possible without raising awkward questions. “Reginald and I were thinking about it. Would that be a problem?”
“Indeed it would Diana. The Duke disowned him. They say he’s a blackguard who stole his regiment’s silver and sold it.”
“Oh dear. Then we must certainly avoid him.”
“Indeed you must Diana. It’s a dreadful shame. He stole the silver and gave the proceeds to his men who were discharged from the army after Waterloo. The government made no provision for them and neither did the regiment. Some had families to feed. I don’t know how you came to cross his path. Fortunately for him the regiment didn’t want the embarrassment, so no charges were laid. They could not countenance one of their captains being dragged through the courts.”
“He was a Captain in Wellington’s army?”
“Indeed he was Diana. I’m surprised he’s surfaced again. I understood he had gone to India.”
“Thank you,” said Diana sipping her tea.
He would come back to her some day. Her fantasy captain in Wellington’s army was real. He would return for her.
Diana winced.
“Are you all right dear?” said Mrs Higgins.
Diana touched her eight month’s pregnant belly. “Yes, just a kick.”
The Scoundrel’s Mistress
An Erotic Regency Romance
By Passion Books
Chapter One
Diana sat in the dining room finishing her breakfast of toast with a lashing of butter from Home Farm, one of her husband’s tenants on the Eylebourne Hall estate.
She glanced out of the window across the terrace to the hills in the distance to see what the weather would be like today. It did not bode well. Dark clouds gathered and a couple of rain spots landed on the French windows. Another English summer’s day, she thought as she wrapped a silk shawl around her bare shoulders. She liked the Empire style dress with its low neckline but sometimes the form was unequal to the British weather.
In the gilt-framed mirror on the opposite wall, she caught a reflection of herself. Her long blond hair was tied up in ringlets and it had taken her and her maid Lucy a good half hour to get right and she felt pleased with the result. Not bad, she thought, for a woman of twenty-five as her English rose visage looked back at her.
Sir Reginald slurped through his devilled kidneys. As usual the grease slipped down both sides of his flabby face. Diana glanced over at him. A glance was about all she could bear when he ate; any longer would make her sick. To say he ate like a pig would be unfair to the porcine race. He didn’t look well with the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes and his complexion had turned ruddier than yesterday. It didn’t seem to affect his appetite.
She watched as he stopped eating and rubbed his arm.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, just a pain in the arm and I keep getting one in my chest.”
“You should see a doctor.”
“I haven’t got time for damned Quacks.” He waded back into his breakfast. She looked away.
“Good morning Sir, M’lady.”
Diana looked up from her toast to see Jane, her son’s nurse, carrying the one-year-old Michael into the dining room.
“Good morning Jane,” said Diana.
Sir Reginald managed a grunt.
Diana missed having Jane as her Lady’s maid since she promoted her to Nurse. Although unequal in rank, they shared the same sense of humour. Her replacement, Lucy, carried out her duties well, but she didn’t amuse Diana the way Jane had when doing her toilette and caring for her extensive wardrobe.
Jane had dressed the boy in a blue velvet pair of pants with a matching jacket and a lace-edged white collar. He could have been the subject for a Gainsborough painting had Gainsborough still been alive.
Diana tickled the boy’s chin and looked into his dark brown eyes that even at his young age seemed to suggest the owner had something special inside. She couldn’t help thinking of his father’s eyes, and remembering how they had made Michael.
Sir Reginald was too conceited or stupid to realise the boy’s resemblance was not of him. Neither was he aware of her birth control potion that the old gypsy woman supplied to prevent him fathering a child with Diana. He did not know of Richard, the dashing Captain from Wellington’s army for whom Diana abandoned her potion. In fact, Sir Reginald knew very little about what was going on in and around his household. He certainly knew nothing of his wife’s fantasies.
“Good morning Michael,” said Diana. She stroked his cheek.
Sir Reginald grunted. He looked over at the boy and Diana. “I hope you are not filling the boy’s head with nonsense again Diana. Sooner he’s packed off to boarding school the better, I say. Make a man of him.”
“Yes, dear,” said Diana lowering her eyes in pretend submission. Michael would be going to boarding school over her dead body or, the occasional thought had crossed her mind, Sir Reginald’s.
“I’m going to Chatham, some problems with one of my ships. I could be away for a few days,” said Sir Reginald.
“What problems?” said Diana trying to keep her tone polite like she was only making conversation.
“Don’t worry yourself about them. Nothing I can’t handle.”
“Are you sure you are well enough Reginald?”
“Of course I am. Stop fussing woman.”