Page 32 of Lady Mariel’s Scandalous Love

“I suppose I had best hear that first.”

Dash breathed the tiniest sigh of relief – that response was progress.

“Let me start with the fact that, yes, I do have a collection of books and items, which I have assembled bit by bit during my time overseas, and had shipped back here. And yes, those items are all related to what I describe as the history of human eroticism. It is as valid a thing to collect as any other, and rather more interesting than a collection of tea cups or China porcelain plates, at least from my point of view.”

His father gave a snort of laughter at the latter words. “I can only agree with that sentiment – your mother now has three hundred different tea cups…. three hundred! But still, such a scandalous topic, no matter how fascinating it might be, is simply asking for gossip of the worst kind.”

“I know – but gossip has never stopped me from doing something that I truly wanted to. I did originally aim to get the British Museum to put on an exhibition of the best pieces – but they declined – too scared that their financially generous patrons might be offended. If that had gone ahead, everyone would have decided that it was art, and therefore everything was forgivable – just look at the Elgin marbles….”

The Duke laughed again, shaking his head in amusement, and Dash felt his own shoulders relax in relief.

“You’ve a good point there – those marbles are rather… explicit… in their carved detail in some cases, but no one bats an eye about women viewing them.”

“Yes. So, once Lord Manderforce regretfully declined to arrange an exhibition, I set about approaching it differently. I have purchased a building in London, and aim to open it as a private Museum. It is almost ready – and yes, I was planning to warn you before opening day. These letters to the paper – I believe that they are the unfortunate result of Lord Manderforce gossiping, compounded by one particular person, who has no liking for me, or for my friends, getting wind of that gossip, and deciding to exaggerate the existence of my collection into an imagined orgy of depravity. I saw no option but to get the Museum opened as soon as possible, and to thereby demonstrate to the ton that this is all about art and history, rather than closet debauchery.”

“When you put it that way, it sounds almost sensible. But still… the gossips will whisper about our family, regardless, and your mother will be acutely embarrassed. But I suppose its too late to prevent that, isn’t it? So… tell me more about the truth of this collection – what sort of items does it include? I must admit – and do not, ever, let your mother know that I said this – that the whole idea intrigues me – a bit of erotic stimulation is certainly not unpleasant, if dealt with tastefully – although usually in private!”

It was Dash’s turn to laugh. “You are in agreeance with half the men of the ton there. I keep getting cautiously enquiring letters from gentlemen who would like to arrange a private viewing – even from some who have sent me other letters, obviously written to placate their wives or mothers, deriding my depravity. But in answer to your question - I have everything from books, to assorted carved or mechanical objects designed to decorate or to enhance pleasure in various ways.”

“Books? What sort of books?”

“Dozens of the things – in multiple languages, some illustrated, some not, some written as tales to titillate, some as manuals of instruction – all fascinating – like the example on the desk here, which is written in Russian.”

As he said the words, Dash realised his mistake. His father’s eyes went to the desk, then snapped back to Dash.

“Are you telling me that the book which the young lady was ‘assisting you with a translation’ of is a… manual of erotic instruction… or similar?”

“Errrrmmm… yes.”

The Duke went red in the face in the instant.

“That is beyond scandalous! You have exposed a gently reared young woman to such a thing… to things no lady should see, in some cases, not even a married one? Are you mad? Why did you do such a thing?”

“Well… she speaks, reads and writes Russian – do you know how rare that is, in England? And she was visiting Alex and Selina, who live quite close by. And she volunteered to translate it – because I do not speak Russian.”

“How did she even know about the book in the first place, to volunteer? Her even knowing of its existence is scandalous!”

“Umm… I told her about it, after Alex informed me that she spoke Russian. Initially, in the most indirect of terms – but she was so determined to help… I gave in. And she told me the truth when she asserted that she was not easily shocked.”

“Whether she is easily shocked or not is not the point Dashiell! The point is that you have shown her this book at all. What were you doing when I arrived – you were both poring over it?”

“I was… ummm… helping her by providing English words for some… items… that she had worked out by context, but did not know either the Russian or the English word for.”

“You were what?” The Duke’s face became even redder, and Dash worried that he might suffer an apoplexy. “Did you just say that you were explaining the purpose and the names of various items involved in erotic activities to an unmarried young woman?”

“Yes.”

The Duke gaped at him, in even deeper shock.

“Dash, this just won’t do at all. You’ll have to marry her – there’s nothing for it – you might as well have actually been intimate with her, if you’ve gone so far as uttering such words and… even explaining them!”

Dash felt his mouth fall open in shock, and quickly snapped it shut. Marry Mariel? It was… actually not so terrible a thought, especially given those moments upstairs, when he had brought her to her completion – she had responded so strongly… but… what if she did not care for him? He would not be pushed into marriage simply because his father was shocked! Nor would he push Mariel into marriage – she should have the right to choose her own husband. But… what if she was willing to marry him?

His mind re-ran every moment when they had touched, every moment when they had not, but had been so aware of each other. And then, for the first time, he truly considered what would happen, if her part in this translation became known amongst the ton. Either the worst sort of men would offer for her, wanting a wanton woman in their bed, or no-one would offer for her, all being driven away by their perception of her part in depravity. He could not bear either thought – the very idea of her married to another man evoked a visceral abhorrence in him, and the thought of her being spurned by society was equally terrible. He could not permit the woman he had come to love to be hurt because of his own selfish desire to have a book translated!

His father was watching him, and he realised that he needed to respond – but what had he just thought? ‘The woman he loved’ – that had been his thought – and it was true, shockingly, painfully true.

He met his father’s eyes.