The Reddington Scandal

The Reddington Scandal

By

Renee Rose

Copyright © 2013 by Stormy Night Publications and Renee Rose

Copyright © 2013 by Stormy Night Publications and Renee Rose

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

Rose, Renee

The Reddington Scandal

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

Images by Period Images and Bigstock/Lffile

This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

Chapter One

London, 1835

Phoebe lay curled in bed, reading a novel by lamplight. It took her a moment to register the sounds she heard from her sister’s room next door.

Was that—? Could it be—?

It sounded like flesh slapping flesh. She heard her sister’s giggled protests and realized, with a start, that her lover must be spanking her. Maud had taken Lord Fenton, the notorious rake, into her bedroom for the past several nights, enjoying him whilst Lord Reddington, her odious husband, was out of town. From the sound of it, Lord Fenton had the upper hand on her at the moment.

“Go stand in the corner until you can learn not to be such a selfish cow,” she heard him order. She almost laughed herself, as her older sister was, in fact, extraordinarily self-centered. Fenton’s recognition of it raised him in her estimation. Lord Fenton was quite a prize for Maud, not that she’d keep him long, judging by his notoriety. He was the prize all the unwed ladies tried in vain to win, as he was everything in one package—boyishly handsome, charming, wealthy, titled, and single. But he never courted any lady eligible for marriage, seeming to prefer the already married or widowed for his entertainment.

Though she would never admit it to a living soul, even she had pined for him. But in her case, it wasn’t the money or the charm or the title that drew her; rather, an overheard conversation between him and his sister a few years prior. Maud and Reddington had held a Christmas ball and she’d come upon a handsome young man and woman in the corridor. At first, she thought they might be an amorous couple, looking for a moment alone, and she’d drawn back to give them privacy. Then she realized the young lady was crying.

“It’s nothing. It’s just that no one ever asks me to dance, and…”

“Shh, Wynnie. Here,” he said, producing a handkerchief. “It’s only because you don’t bat your eyelashes and say insipid things and play parlor games that have the chance of producing a scandal. And frankly, I’m all the more proud of you for it. If you acted as foolishly as those young ladies out there, I’d take you over my knee.”

“Oh, Teddy,” she said, clearly not giving his threat any credence. “What do you know about courting? You’ve never done it in earnest.”

“Come here,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “I know you are a beautiful and intelligent young woman and when the right man finds you, he will know you as the gem you are. Now come on, let’s go back there. I’ll dance with you.”

“Dancing with my brother will not improve my prospects!” the young lady exclaimed, but she was starting to laugh and it was clear her brother had lifted her mood.

He put his arm around her shoulders and directed her down the corridor. “Then I’ll send a gentleman over.”

“Please do not. I would rather not suffer your pity.”

Phoebe had stepped out and greeted them, lest they realize she’d been there all along. “Who is that?” she asked Maud when they entered the hall.

“Lord Fenton. Stay far away from him, Phoebe. His only interest in ladies is how quickly he can bed them.”

“No… that gentleman over there?” she’d asked, certain Maud was mistaken.

“Yes, the handsome one. He’s Lord Fenton,” her sister had said before she breezed away.

Phoebe had stood gaping, finding it difficult to reconcile the tender compassion she’d just witnessed with a man known for his scandalous behavior. No family member had ever shown her the warmth and affection she witnessed between Fenton and his sister. It became a fascination for her over the following two years, to imagine what sort of man Lord Fenton really was and Maud’s recent acquisition of his favors made her more jealous than she cared to admit.

The sound of a carriage outside the London house did not draw her particular attention, as they lived on a noisy street, but when she heard the front door open, she sat bolt upright in bed.

“Maud!” she hissed in the direction of her sister’s room. But she had no doubt her sister heard it too, as all voices ceased and she heard a thump as if someone had jumped from the bed. Why was Reddington home at this hour when he was not supposed to return for two nights? She scrambled out of her own bed and threw a robe over her nightdress, heading out onto the landing to provide distraction, if necessary. It was one thing to begrudge Maud her lover, it was quite another to allow her to be in real danger from her husband.

Lord Fenton slipped out of her sister’s room, his cravat hanging untied about his neck and his jacket and waistcoat off. He moved with calm efficiency, his fingers tying the knot at his throat as his eyes swept right and left for the best exit. Maud slipped out behind him, pulling her robe around her shoulders.

“That way,” she whispered, pointing toward the servants’ stairs, but it was too late.

“What’s going on?” Reddington boomed, barreling up the stairs. He had a pistol in his hand, as if he’d expected to find Maud with a lover. “Fenton,” he snarled. “I should have known it was you poaching from my bed!”

Phoebe felt a wave of dizziness. Reddington was going to shoot Fenton, and God only knew what he would do to Maud.

Thinking quickly, she grasped Fenton’s arm possessively. “No one was poaching from your bed, my lord. He was with me!” she gasped.

Reddington’s eyes bulged and, if possible, he appeared even angrier. She knew he considered her a possession as much as he did her sister. Perhaps even more, since he had attempted to force himself upon her every time he could connive to be alone with her. “You?” he intoned incredulously. “No,” he shook his head. “Not you.”

“Yes,” she whispered, trembling so badly her thighs tapped together on their own volition. Fenton must have felt it, because he wrapped his arm about her waist and drew her close. It was an entirely new and satisfying feeling to have a man hold her protectively.

If he had not, Reddington’s slap would certainly have knocked her to the floor. Her vision went dark as pain exploded on the side of her face and a strong arm caught and righted her. When the dark spots in front of her eyes cleared, she saw the two men scrambling about on the floor, with Fenton appearing to have the advantage, despite Reddington’s pistol. He struck Reddington’s wrist against the floor, causing the pistol to fly loose, and then straddled her brother-in-law, slamming his fist into the man’s face.

Vindicated by Fenton’s assault on Reddington, she considered the implications of claiming him as her lover. Reddington would certainly throw her out and her reputation would be ruined. If Fenton would not provide for her—and she doubted a man of his rakish reputation would be so scrupulous—her life now meant nothing. She snatched up the pistol and pointed it at the two men. “Stop it! Both of you.”

Neither listened. She lunged forward, waving the muzzle of the gun between their heads so they’d see it. “Stop or I’ll shoot you both!”

Her hands shook so violently, she feared she might discharge the heavy firearm by accident. Fenton slowly stood up from his crouch, palms out. “Easy, sweetheart. Give me the pistol,” he soothed, holding out his hand.

When she didn’t move, he reached out and grasped the barrel of the gun, tugging gently. She resisted at first, then allowed him to slide it out of her sweaty grasp, surprised to find herself drawn against him in another pleasing embrace.

“I demand satisfaction,” Reddington huffed. He had also righted himself and now stood, red-faced and bug-eyed.

“He is going to marry me,” she heard herself say, her voice sounding shaky and far away. It was her only chance. She would ask nothing of him—only his name—but without it, she was utterly ruined.
She dared a glance at Fenton, who must surely be horrified at the thought of marrying someone he didn’t even know.

He met her gaze and held it. There was no fear or anger in it. In fact, she found only compassion there, reminding her of the way he’d been with his sister. “Yes. Quite right. I mean to marry her,” he said, picking up her cue.

She swallowed, unable to look away from the warm brown eyes locked on her own.

“I plan to post the banns tomorrow.”

She could feel Maud’s horrified expression, and realized the title of Lady Fenton was coveted by nearly every female in London—single, wed, or widowed—both for the wealth and the man who came with it, though she’d had none of that in mind when she’d forced his hand. She could see Maud seething with jealousy, and perversely, it heartened her. For once in her life, she would have something Maud did not. But more than that, more than anything, she wished to be out of Reddington’s house, forever. Surely marriage to Lord Fenton could be no worse than what she had suffered there.

“I sincerely doubt that,” Reddington sneered.

“Oh?” Fenton gave a rakish grin and shocked her with a kiss full on the mouth, pulling her waist against his body so she arched into him. Never having been kissed before, she froze, then remembered to put on a show and looped an arm behind his neck.

His lips were surprisingly supple for a man’s and they opened, repositioned, and kissed a second time at a different angle. His kiss was confident, refined. He was a man who had kissed a thousand women, probably, but for that one moment, she pretended it was just for her. She breathed in the scent of him—spiced soap and wool, with a touch of Maud’s perfume around the edges.

“Enough!” Reddington exploded and Fenton drew his head away with a satisfied smirk, underscoring what she already had known—that the kiss was for Reddington’s benefit, not hers. But he still held her possessively against his body, the firm muscle of his thigh meeting her belly, his protection lending her strength.

Fenton lifted the pistol with a gracefully straight arm and pointed it steadily at Reddington’s head, causing the man to still. “If you touch her again while she’s under this roof—in any way at all—I will kill you.”

She nearly swooned. Reddington’s lip curled in a snarl, but he did not answer.

“That is a promise.”

* * *

Teddy took Lord Reddington’s pistol with him when he left, not because he had any rights to it, but because he didn’t trust the man with a weapon in hand. Reddington had been apoplectic when he struck Maud’s younger sister and it made him uneasy to leave her with him. In fact, he wondered if he could not pull some strings with the magistrate to wed her without the delay of posting the banns.

It had been incredibly brave of her to take responsibility for his and her sister’s misdeed. She had saved his life, possibly Maud’s as well. Though it had never been his intention to marry—he’d seen the folly of it through his parents’ miserable union—he realized the necessity of offering his hand to his little rescuer. He wasn’t about to ruin an innocent young lady’s reputation.

At home, his valet helped him to disrobe and he climbed into his bed, thinking of his young bride. He did not even know her name. She was lovely—even lovelier than her sister. She had the same wavy blond hair, which had cascaded over her shoulders like a mantle of pale silk. Her eyes were wide-set and a different shade of blue than Maud’s— cornflower, with violet rims. There had been intelligence there—not the calculating sort of intelligence of her sister, but rather, an innocent, unworldly sort. She’d brought out the protector in him, which was not a role he often played with women.

He sent a message to the magistrate first thing in the morning and sat down to breakfast with Wynn, his younger sister.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully. She made no comment on the lateness of the hour he’d arrived home, well used to his habits by now.

“Well, I’m happy to inform you that you will soon have a sister with whom to do your dress shopping.”

“What?” Wynn cried, her face lighting up. “Who? Wait…” Her look of delight changed to one of confusion as she surely realized he had not been courting anyone, unless one counted the married women with whom he dallied. “What’s going on?”