Page 6 of Lady Mariel’s Scandalous Love

Chapter Three

Mariel and Selina sat in the library of Fortescue Grange, each curled comfortably in a large chair near the fire, with a small table between them, holding a tea tray and a plate of assorted cakes and pastries. Mariel smiled, her eyes on the flickering flames in the hearth.

“Being in this room can’t help but remind me…”

“Of the night of our ‘scandal’?”

“Yes. What I heard that night… and saw… I can’t get it out of my head. It made me go back to that book, you know, the explicit one I showed you, and look at it all again with a very different perspective. And now you get to do things like that, all the time. I will admit that I am jealous.”

“It’s wonderful. I won’t try to deny it. I had no idea what was possible, between a man and a woman. It is remarkable the pleasure that is to be had. I think that the pictures and the descriptions in that book of yours barely begin to cover it.”

Mariel sighed.

“You saying such things only makes me more envious! I cannot, simply cannot, imagine any of the eligible gentlemen of the ton, whom I have met, doing half of those things. At least… not in a way designed to give me pleasure, rather than just themselves. They are all so very… proper, and stuffy.”

Mariel shook her head, and Selina laughed at her mournful expression.

“Well, yes. They are stuffy – at least with their wives. From what Alex tells me, most of them think that wives should not really get much pleasure from sexual congress – that such is reserved for courtesans and mistresses – as if taking pleasure from it somehow makes a woman a wanton harlot. Men are so utterly ridiculous at times. Because if that opinion was true, then I would have declared myself a harlot many times over. I am so glad that Alex takes a very different approach.”

“And you were always the quiet, well behaved one! My mother has long been convinced that I will end in scandal, no matter how hard she tries to make me the perfect lady. If you find that such activities make you willingly wanton, what are they likely to do to me?”

Selina laughed again.

“I suspect that you will, once you find a suitable man, enjoy yourself more than you have ever imagined might be possible. So, obviously, we must find you a suitable man, at the earliest opportunity.”

“And just where will we do that? I believe that I know every man of the ton – well, except for Lord Longwood.”

“And what do you think of him? I met him for the first time, the same evening that you did, so I don’t know much of him yet – but he seemed pleasant, and reasonable – not stuffy at all. And he is rather good looking – it may not be the fashion, but I think that a bit of colour on the skin, from the sun, makes a man look healthier, more… virile…”

“I am not sure what I think of him. I’ll agree that he is pleasant to look at, but at dinner he was quiet, almost reserved – if it weren’t for what you told me, about his mysterious collection, I would have thought him dull. But… I will reserve judgement, until I discover what it is that he collects. Perhaps he was just reserved because he’d only just met us, and did not know what sort of people we are. After all, we are not, exactly, like most young women of the aristocracy.”

Selina reached out and squeezed her hand.

“And I am so very glad that we are not. I think I might have been like the rest of them, if it were not for my friendship with you, Mariel.”

Mariel felt herself flush – Selina was probably right, and it was wonderful that Selina saw it as a positive – Mariel suspected that others would have described it more as Mariel leading Selina astray.

“Oh, surely not – I think that you would have rebelled eventually, with or without me. That aside – while I am here, might I dig about in this library,” she waved her hand at the extensive shelves which loomed around them, “to see what interesting things I can find?”

“Of course you can. When you say ‘interesting’, do you mean more books like…”

Mariel nodded.

“Yes, more books like that explicit one I showed you. There must be many more books like that, surely, for men have always wanted…”

“I am sure that there are, and that most libraries in older stately homes might contain one or more. But they may well be hidden – so as ‘not to shock the ladies of the house’ – or the maids, for that matter.”

“Well, if things are hidden, I shall enjoy exploring until I find them. The darker and dustier the corners, the more likely they are to contain treasure. And that treasure, for me at least, is not just explicit books about the things that a man and woman can do together. I am also looking for something that seems almost more rare than that. I always look to see if there are any books written in Russian.”

“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.