A Scandalous Love

Prologue

"Lady Francesca aren't you sick of the uncalled attention you got from the ton?"

"Certainly not Lord Syford. I am the duke's daughter and no scandal can ever take that from me, not even my stepmother. Perks of having a royal bone rank in the my corset, they say."

"Then, I might as well cause one of the upcoming scandals of yours," he responded before shutting her cherry ripe parted lips with his. Both hot, burning in passion.

They were in the prince regent's royal garden. In any minute, one could have barge in and witness the infamous lady's scandal. But, Francesca couldn't think less, than the man ravishing her, and the hidden agenda she got under her sleeves.

***

Few months before...

The butlers were banging heads with the headstrong, obstreperous media trying to break through the duke's house early in the morning. The head matron immediately ran towards the master's bedroom to notify the sleeping duke and his second wife about the unexpected ruckus outside.

Upon hearing the thrice knocks on the door, Duchess Chandler pulled the string on her side, ringing the small metal bell connected outside.

Sussana got her cue to gingerly turn the doorknob and reveal herself to the masters. Catching her breath, she held on her rather shabby skirt for support. The years must have weaken her knees and youthful vigor. Gone are the old days of strength and agility.

"I am afraid to start your day my lord, my lady, in such an atrocious way but, there was a throng of reporters gathered in the main gate," the housekeeper in her forty's struggled to report everything in the best accuracy she could muster.

Surprise was not already part of the duke's reaction. Plainly, dismay and irritation. His eyebrows remained calm, contradicting to the burning temperament inside him, but he hid it excellently. London society taught him well on masking up emotions above anything else.

"What could have been the matter this time?" the impatient duchess asked. Annoyance was evident on her tone.

"It was about Lady Francesca—" Poor Sussana was cut short with the perverse assault of the duke's short-tempered duchess.

"Heavens Sussana! I already know the who about of the trouble outside. What I'm asking you is the what about of the matter? Such a trifling difference between elites and commoners." The duke's new wife was infamous for her blunt and belittling attitude towards her inferiors.

"Careful Carlotta, you must not to look down on my people." Duke Landon Chandler was noble enough to remind her unstoppable tongue. As a matter of fact, he lived most his days reminding her but to no avail. Perhaps, people's attitude doesn't change so easily. "Tell me about it," he said eyeing the housekeeper. Duke Landon had been feeling ill lately, and news like this doesn't help much. Instead, it worsen it.

Sussana regained her confidence from the duke's compassionate words and continued. "Lady Francesca just got involve in the disdaining affront towards a retiring countess widow in Colstalbay, rumored for giving highly offensive remarks on her two-decades old wedding gown she flaunted in the recent social gathering at a patroness's house.

"Now the media wants to get on her side and discern more to be able to draft the best scoop they could get." The housekeeper was surprisingly good at grasping event, the duke silently thought.

"You see Carlotta, Sussana's capacity was way better than the stupid commoner you had in mind." The duchess just grimaced in surrender, yet total disagreement was to be traced on the undertone of her battling lashes.

Turning once more to the servant, the duke ordered. "Go on and bring that insolent young lady in the sitting room. She'll be getting lot lectures for today."

Expressing her respect through a polite slight bow, Sussana proceeded to the stonewalled corridor leading to the exquisitely designed lady's room. Throwing a three times knocks, she gently inserted the key in the hole and opens the wooden door, moving aside the cascading brocade hangs at the topmost door frame.

The young lady was quite a heavy sleeper that the housekeeper had to secure herself her own key in order to wake her up, in case she oversleep again, which she did this time, yet again.

Laying there was a slim, hourglass-shaped lady clad in a thin chemise nightgown with her auburn hair unevenly spread all over the soft Georgian queen-sized bed. Her pale complexion blends perfectly fit with the cotton white color of her pillows, blankets, and bedsheets.