Scandal at Vauxhall by Layna Pimentel

Pleasure Garden Follies, Book 1

Erotic Historical Romance – novella – 31,000 words

Full of mystery, gambling, and a love story for the ages, this Regency romance is a wonderful addition to your historical romance library. Find out why scandal has never been sweeter, even when society dictates otherwise!

Blurb:

The love and happiness Isabel Salisbury expected in life when she accepted the proposal of the Marquess of Stoughton takes an unexpected turn, when he leaves on a mission for the war office. She is married off to the Duke of Brimley.

Nathaniel Thompson, the Marquess of Stoughton, is devastated to learn upon his return that Isabel has married the duke. When news of her husband’s death surfaces, Nathaniel sets out to make amends and will stop at nothing until she’s his marchioness.

But when London learns of a promiscuous tryst between them in the Daily, their credibility is at stake. They soon discover that nothing in life is simple, nor private, and all is fair in love and war.

Purchase Links: Liquid Silver Books

Excerpt 1:

London, England, 1815

Prologue

Isabel Salisbury hopped up from her seat and faced her mother. “Elevating me? Are you mad? This arrangement only benefits you and Father! What is the rush? Surely, your situation can wait until Nathaniel returns?” She lifted her chin high, attempting to remain controlled, but lost all civility.

“Furthermore, I will not accept a proposal of any sort from any duke or such until I have spoken with Nathaniel!” I could never love another. How can they do this to me?

Interrupting the hostility, the ancient pendulum clock hanging behind her father struck eight bells, reminding her where she needed to be. Without asking for permission, she dashed from the room, wiping her eyes and not looking back. Her conniving parents thought that this—that they—would be over. Not if I can help it. She had to get answers and soon. The last thing she desired was to be pawned off to a duke who had no interest in her.

Isabel had heard in great detail of the Duke of Brimley’s conquests—from the infamous courtesan’s Madame Martine boasted of, to a mysterious affair with some Italian beauty, who was never seen, over a year ago. All of this and so much more had been revealed at Miss Turner’s garden tea party just a week prior.

While Cecily, Madeline, and several other ladies of the haute ton thought the rumors to be utterly scandalous, that didn’t stop them from letting their imagination run wild. Miss Turner went on to compare Brimley to the men written about in those French novels that her mother kept hidden.

What more could I ask for? Not only will I marry well, but I’m bound to be miserable with a man who thrives on living a life scandalously and shadowed by infidelity. I would much rather perish from consumption.

Hidden in the shadows of her parents’ maze of roses, Isabel raced against time. There she would meet Nathaniel, in what could be their last moments together for months. Despair over not seeing her beloved until he returned from the war office shook her to her core, tripping and stumbling her along the way. Her hopes and desires had been crushed. Emptiness swallowed her heart whole.

What if he never returns? How could he not tell me? She loved him dearly, yet anger simmered beneath the surface and insecurity washed over her.

“There you are, sweetling. I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

Isabel threw herself at him, desperately hoping her parents were wrong. “You’re leaving me?” she murmured into his overcoat. Please let it be a falsehood.

“Darling, let me explain, but first I have to ask you something.”

Her eyes widened with disbelief. She sniffled and stepped out of his hold, gazing into his beautiful and stoic blue eyes.

“I wanted to do this sooner, but…would you do me the honor of becoming my wife? I know that we cannot be married until I return. Nevertheless…”

Isabel smiled, tears rolling down her cheeks. She almost shrieked with glee, but given their clandestine meeting, her joy had to be contained. Please, please, please, don’t anyone find us right now. “I accept,” she blurted before wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. She allowed herself to languish in the slow tease of his tongue.

“Outstanding, sweetling. I’ll meet with your father in the morning, and we’ll begin the arrangements when I return in six months

“Nathaniel, that is too long! Are you sure you cannot return any sooner?”

She found herself enveloped firmly in his embrace, finally content, when he replied. “My dear, it could very well take longer. I assure you, I will do my utmost best to return to you in time.

Isabel beamed against his chest. “Very well, my darling. I cannot wait to share the news with Mother!”

Maybe now they’ll see how worthy you are. Now there shouldn’t be any reason why I must meet that wicked duke.

Excerpt 2:

On a night like tonight, however, she was thankful for the lack of her husband’s presence. These types of occasions always put him in a sour mood. He’d wind up playing whist and lose. Then, he’d drink himself into a stupor, drag her away from whatever conversation she was having, take her home and bed her roughly, only to fall asleep before giving her any pleasure in return.

Pfft. What is pleasure anyway? Yet, while she didn’t have much experience in the ways of lovemaking, it was highly unlikely most marriage beds were like hers. Especially during these moments, she wished she had the courage to run.

Is married life supposed to be like this? Leaving me feeling filthy, unworthy, and so lonely? She hadn’t the slightest clue about what she’d ever done wrong, but the pang of regret over not standing up to her husband made her frailer with each passing day.

Distracting her from such sad thoughts, Lady Balfour approached, fanning herself with expediency. “My dear, have you heard? The Marquess of Stoughton has just arrived. My word, he hasn’t aged one bit, and he’s looking quite fit.”

Nathaniel! He’s alive. Isabel’s heart pounded in her chest as her gaze settled on him.

She hadn’t seen him since he’d told her he was leaving on business for the war office. Her pulse kicked up furiously to the point that she felt light-headed and breathless. He was still a sight for sore eyes. His dark hair and piercing blue gaze stood out in the crowd. The sheer breadth of his shoulders framed his muscular size. She watched as he stopped and spoke with other gentlemen, his back now facing her and Lady Balfour.

My God! He really is here. Would he even recognize me? Hardly. He’s probably here to fetch his mistress for the evening. Why would he even pay me any mind? Besides, she was a duchess, very much married, and obliged to keep up appearances.

“My, would you look at the size of his thighs,” Lady Coxley announced as she approached the ladies, garnering a few giggles from prying ears.

Isabel smirked, knowing all too well in what direction this conversation was headed.

“They are wonderfully built, but I’m sure some other lady has laid claim on the marquess.”

“You haven’t heard, have you, Isabel?”

“What haven’t I heard?” she asked. Her breath hitched and her pulse raced. What could I have missed?

“Come away with me to the terrace. I wish to speak to you in private. We can’t have half of London listening in.”

She followed Lady Coxley outdoors, leaving behind the sounds of merriment to be embraced by the shrouded darkness of night and silence.

“They say the marquess will not marry until he’s found her.”

“Until he’s found who?”

“The one who broke his heart. But in all honesty, everyone knows it’s you. With any luck, perchance some horrible fate will happen upon Henry.”

If I were only so lucky. “You shouldn’t talk like that! And for the record, the marquess and I were done long ago. Remember, he’s the one who left me.”

“Isabel, you cannot expect me to believe that you haven’t thought about that man— at least once or ever—during the course of this sham of a marriage of yours. The haute ton in its entirety knows where he is right now. And you’d be a fool to think Henry gives two ninnies about your welfare.”

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted them.

“Excuse me, ladies, but I was wondering if perchance I could steal Her Grace for a dance.”

Good grief. Did he hear any of our discussion? I cannot believe he’s actually here.

Heat coursed through Isabel at the thought of holding him once again. She nodded and held out her gloved palm for him to take. “I’d be honored, My Lord.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace.”

Leaving behind Lady Coxley, she followed his lead inside for a waltz.

“It’s been too long, Isabel. I’ve missed you terribly,” he whispered as they took a turn about the dance floor. Nathaniel bowed and took her hand. His touch warmed her, and the gentle squeeze that followed reassured her that the flame they once had was still there.

She and Henry hadn’t danced since their wedding and even then, he quickly discarded her to dance with the Duchess of Downsbury. If she’d only known her dismissal that evening would be the first of many others. For the most part, her husband had two left feet, but Nathaniel whisked her away gracefully to the tune. She wished to kiss him again and remind herself of their time together. Good heavens, Isabel. You’re married. Enough of this foolishness!

Isabel felt him pulling her closer as his arm at the small of her back pushed her in. His head dipped down, and, naturally, she looked up at him, ignoring every stare and whisper as they moved together. She finally cringed and mustered the courage to ask him the one thing weighing heavily on her mind. “Why did you take so long? Why didn’t you come sooner? Nathaniel, there hasn’t been a day I haven’t thought of you.”

As the music wound down and the dancers departed, Isabel locked her eyes on his and felt a tear escape. “You’ve been missed greatly, My Lord.”

His thumb swiped away the drop. “My dear, there hasn’t been a day, hour, or dream you haven’t occupied.”

About the Author:

Born and raised in Toronto, Ontario, Layna discovered her love of reading at an early age. She’s a bestselling author at All Romance eBooks, and multi-published author of historical, paranormal and contemporary erotic romances. When she isn’t devouring salacious romance novels or writing, she enjoys losing herself in researching ancient history and mythology, weaponry, and hiking. She lives in Northern Ontario, with her husband and two daughters.

For updates on her upcoming releases, or to leave her a comment, you can find at:

Website: http://www.laynapimentel.com

Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/LaynaPimentel

Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/AuthorLaynaPimentel

Newsletter: http://eepurl.com/R1bCH

After three years idle hunting and one active searching, I bought a house. The morning after my first night there I got up this morning and pottered around. Went to the bank. Came home and went to the bathroom. The house next door is split into 2 apartments and my bathroom window looks directly into the neighbor’s living room. I had put some bubble wrap over the window as a privacy screen, but when one is standing right in front of the toilet there is clear sight line into the neighbor’s living room. Other than the fact that this neighbor liked to flick cigarette butts into my driveway, this was not a big deal. That morning, I got to the window and just as I was turning to sit, I saw motion. My neighbor was having a little me time with a video and a bottle of lotion. Okay, I’m a grown up. I carried on with my business. The window was closed so he didn’t even have to know I saw anything. Except just as I turned to flush, he turned toward me and our eyes locked across the driveway. It was probably a half second, but it felt like we were staring at one another for five minutes before I went to wash my hands.

This is really only made worse by the fact that he’s the type of guy who populates romancelandia. Early twenties, ice blue eyes, dark hair, great build. Pretty sure he’s the one who drives the nice cars too.

Welcome to the neighborhood!

Band Of Brothers Restoration

Driving down the street the other day I happened to end up at a red light next to one of these trucks. I didn’t check out the driver because my imagination was supplying all the fun I needed.

That’s even better than the old Victorian on the main street in my neighborhood that is now the offices of 3 female lawyers which I imagine, based on their names, are youngish for lawyers. That same house used to be the offices of an optometrist named Dr. Ream.

Either one of those is good for a series. Or they could be combined into one. Whatever trips your trigger.

Just, OMG! I actually listened to this on audio while I was finishing my floors and let me tell you, as arduous a job as staining and applying polyurethane to three rooms, it was made very enjoyable because of this novel.

How do you move overseas?

Before I went to Abu Dhabi, a teacher I worked with was telling his wife how I had gotten a job there and she asked him how I would pack for a move like that. He, in turn, asked me. My initial reaction was “two checked bags and 2 carry ons.” Overly simplistic? I guess so, but it really does boil down to two checked bags and two carry ons.

As an ESL teacher, I’m a little limited on what I can take. I only planned to be there for 2 years so I didn’t take things like my grandmother’s dresser. Nor did I take my library. It was already in boxes anyway. Does it suck to have to leave all that stuff behind that I’ve spent years collecting? Yeah, but I’ve learned that I can live with a lot less than I though I could. And, honestly, if I’d pursued the position in New Orleans, I wouldn’t have wanted to take along a lot of that stuff anyway. Books and hurricanes do not mix. Out of print books that I searched for for years and hurricanes? The weeping would go on for days. Days.

I would need household items. Lucky for me the people who already live there also need household items. Pots, pans, plates, etc, that stuff is already there. I know it sounds a little obvious, but then again maybe it isn’t. It’s pretty easy to get overwhelmed when moving, and when moving this far? Overwhelm increases exponentially. When I was first getting ready to go to Korea, I read on the ESL Cafe Korea forum that you needed to bring enough deodorant to last a year. In fact, you needed to bring extra because it got really hot and sticky there in the summer. One poster recommended bringing 12 deodorants for the year! I estimated how many I would use in a year (2), added an extra for insurance (1), went to Korea and found that there was deodorant easily available in every corner store. The new rule is: take a 2 month supply. After I’ve been there a month, I should know if I need someone back home to ship me more. My one exception is toothpaste because I’ve learned that exotic foreign toothpaste flavors freak me out. Of course, a year’s supply of toothpaste works out to about 2 tubes and in a pinch baking soda works fine.

Clothes for Abu Dhabi were easy. For Korea, I had to pack for 4 seasons. For Chile, I had to have heavy layers for the winter. Sweaters take up a lot of space. Abu Dhabi is warm year round. I took long sleeves and light layering sweaters, but nothing like the bulky wool I needed previously. There are clothes available too, but couldn’t pack a week’s worth of clothes and go shopping straight off the plane. Please, I’m a girl. Plus jet lag kicks my butt for about 2 weeks after a journey of that distance. I spent an afternoon going through everything to make sure each piece worked with every other piece and was in good condition. Because I went to a Muslim country I made sure that everything was properly modest. No skirts shorter than knee length, no sleeveless blouses, no plunging necklines. Honestly, I was teaching kindergarten so chances of me taking a miniskirt (or even owning a miniskirt) were slim and I’m not a big plunging neckline girl. Sleeveless blouses were going to be a problem because I love tank tops. In the end, I took a couple because I could wear them inside and under things. Nothing like going out in August when it’s 115 in the shade wearing a tank top under a sweater so your arms are covered, but when in Rome…

And then there’s those few special items. The first year in Korea I would have sold my soul for a can of refried beans. It took a year to find a good Mexican restaurant. In Chile it was peanut butter. There was none to be found and manjar was not a reasonable facsimile. According to my research Mexican was then hard to find so I stuffed a couple of cans of refried beans in my suitcase which I turned out not to need. And for comforts, I took along some pictures to hang on the walls.

All in all, that’s the way you pack for an ESL post overseas. Clothes enough for a few weeks of whatever seasons you’re going to encounter, a few important personal items and cash enough to fill in the holes.