The Scandalous Diary of Lily Layton

If his mistresses had been unable to accommodate his needs, he doubted a genteel, respectable lady would be willing to indulge them without hysterics.

What if she is the one?

He tumbled the idea through his thoughts. Without a doubt, she was a lady of society, young and seemingly willing to remarry. She wasn’t a virginal debutante who would be prone to hysterics the first time he pushed his cock between her lips and farther down to massage the back of her throat. A groan escaped as the image blared through his mind. Frustration surged as the shadowy figure bent on her knees sucking his cock drifted away like smoke in the wind. He wanted her face, her hair…it was this unknown woman he wanted to picture.

He glanced down at the diary clutched in his hands. He would probably regret the impulse, but he would find her. She was here in his home, perhaps traversing the secret hallways. Oliver had to start acting now. The house party would be over in seven days, and then she would vanish. He tucked the book inside his jacket, grabbed the oars, and pushed himself to the shore.

A few moments later Oliver strolled across the lawns toward the side entrance. A few short minutes later, he entered his manor.

“My lord,” Branson, the manor’s at times pompous butler, intoned.

Oliver handed him his jacket and top hat. “Where is the mar

chioness?”

“Her ladyship is in the Rose room, my lord.”

Oliver ambled down the hallway, bypassing the library for a smaller and more intimate drawing room his mother favored. After a perfunctory knock, he pushed open the door and entered. His mother was seated by the windows, knitting, and the only other occupant was her lady’s companion, Mrs. Layton.

His mother glanced up and, warmth lit in her hazel eyes. “Oliver, what a marvelous surprise. I thought you would have been in Town until Friday. I know you deplore house parties, and I believed you’d only be coming down for the ball. I’m quite pleased to see you are dedicated to the pursuit of a wife.”

“Mother,” he greeted her, bending low to press a brief kiss on her cheek. “I thought it prudent to be here as early as possible.”

She beamed in approval. His mother had wanted him to find a wife and fill the nursery ever since he reached his majority. Over the last few years, she had been encouraging him to make his choice, more like a thorn in his side than a loving matron. He’d made her the happiest mother in society when he had announced his intention to settle down.

There was a rustle, and he glanced around in time to see her lady’s companion chewing furiously to get rid of whatever edible she had consumed. The lady quickly washed down the remains with a few healthy swallows of her tea. After setting the cup back in its saucer, she launched to her feet.

“My lord,” she said a bit breathlessly, dipping into an elegant curtsy.

The dark blue muslin dress she wore seemed a bit tight, and her breasts strained delightfully at the top. He snapped his eyes upward, appalled at the direction his thoughts had taken. This was the second time he’d had an inappropriate thought about his mother’s companion. The first had been a month ago, when he had come upon her on her knees in this very room, trying to reach for a button under the chaise. Her rounded ass had been temptation itself, and a visceral image of sinking his cock into her while she was in that very delectable position had blasted through his mind.

He had blamed his reaction on the fact he had been without a woman for several months. Oliver had suppressed the chaotic urges in his body and had departed without a word. He had never been the type of man to seduce servants or dependents in his own household. No, that had been his father, who had tupped every chambermaid he could get his hands on, humiliating Oliver’s mother without regard for her honor and sensibilities.

“Mrs. Layton,” he said, a bit too icily, for in her widened eyes he spied confusion at his terseness. Directing his attention back to his mother, he asked, “Have you compiled the list of eligible ladies?”

“Oh, Oliver, I am so pleased you are taking such interest. Mrs. Layton and I were just discussing the best candidates,” she said, plucking a sheaf of paper from the small table and handing it to him.

More likely his mother had been chatting constantly, and Mrs. Layton had politely listened with that fascinating expression she wore of genuine interest and sympathy. He was glad his mother had hired her. She had been somewhat melancholy of late and had seemed to be sinking further away. He had encouraged her to be out more in society and hadn’t protested when she informed him the late Vicar Layton’s widow would take up residence at Belgrave Manor. Mrs. Layton had been an unexpected surprise. She seemed to be witty and charming and, to his mother’s delight, engaged her quite artfully on various topics. The last discussion he had overheard was on the mating habits of rabbits.

His lips twitched at the recollection. “I will leave you ladies to your needlework and peruse this list at leisure in the library.”

“Wonderful,” his mother said with a wide smile. “Dinner will be at eight. I will arrange for Lady Victoria to be seated beside you. The earl’s daughter is quite a delight and a very accomplished painter. I thought that would give you something to talk about, given your common interest.”

He dipped his head in farewell then spun on his heel. As he neared the door he faltered, an awareness teasing his consciousness. He glanced back at Mrs. Layton, who had been watching him depart. She flushed but curiously did not look away.

“You are out of mourning, Mrs. Layton.” He was used to her in widow’s weeds. Black or dark gray had been her choice for the six months she had been within his household.

“I… Yes, it has been two years.”

Inexplicably, he lingered over her features. There was something else different about her. Ah…her hair. No longer did she wear the odious white cap that normally hid her hair. He’d seen wisps peeking from beneath the cap, but never could Oliver have imagined the glorious beauty she had suppressed.

She had the darkest, wine-colored red hair he had ever seen. God’s blood.

She graced him with a tentative smile. He stared at her mouth, unable to take his eyes off her sensual lips. By some thoroughly irritating twist of fate, his mother had hired the one woman he found himself unwillingly attracted to. A dependent in his home. And the undoubtedly prudish widow of a vicar. The lady would possibly descend into hysterics and quit his mother’s service had she any notion of the thoughts she inspired.

Biting back a savage curse, he gritted his teeth and left the drawing room before he said something foolish. Oliver made his way to the library and went over to the side mantel, where he poured a generous splash of brandy into a glass. He took several swallows then sat in the chair closest to the fire. There were fifteen names on his mother’s list of eligible young ladies he could consider for courtship. A few he was familiar with from last season.

A name leaped from the page. Lady Penelope Dodge. Oliver had once spied her in a compromising situation with one of his closest friends, the Earl of Bainbridge. It had been a masquerade ball last season. Oliver had concealed himself in the library when Bainbridge had entered with the young lady. He had been caught in a quandary, for to reveal himself would have caused the young lady great embarrassment and possibly started a scandal. So, he’d sat in the dark and listened as his friend coaxed Lady Penelope to her knees to suck his cock. From the dim light of the fireplace, Oliver had watched her innocent hunger as she’d taken the earl in her mouth and had felt that jerk in his gut for a similar pleasure.