From the Viscount With Love

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Slamming his glass of scotch down so hard that some of the precious liquid sloshed over the sides, Frost did his best to check his anger. This was not going at all how he had expected. "Well how in the bloody hell else do you expect me to do what Candlewood asked and get her away from there? I can't very well waltz in and say, 'excuse me, my dear Desponia, but I believe you are holding a daughter of the peerage against her will and I would like her back,' now can I?"

  "No," Greer argued, "but there are proper channels, things that Bow Street can do to help the situation be resolved properly!"

  Frost snorted in derision. "And in the meantime? What then? Allow her to be debauched by any number of men? Possibly become infected by the pox while I wait for the authorities to step in? No! I cannot allow that! Not while I have perfectly good coin to see this end now, before she is ruined."

  From the corner of the study where he had been perusing Frost's collection of naughty books, Rayne began to chuckle - much to the annoyance of the other two men. And he continued to chuckle until he started to laugh so hard that he doubled over, his hands gripping his knees as he wiped tears from his eyes.

  "I do not see what is so humorous, Rayne!" Frost snapped, all but ready to throttle the other man. "I am talking about saving the life of an innocent here!"

  Taking another swipe at his still-tearing eyes, the earl somehow managed to draw in a deep breath. And to stop laughing. "And once you have this chit in your possession, my friend, what do you propose to do with her? It's not as if you can keep her. Or can you? I mean there is the love nest, after all, but I hardly think..."

  Another knock, this time much sharper, brought them all back to attention, and when Frost barked the order for the visitor to enter, all three of the men somehow managed to paste their blandest expressions on their faces as if they had merely been discussing the weather.

  "A, ahem, Madame Desponia and her ward to see you, my lord." From the expression on his face, it was clear that Claxton was completely appalled by this particular visitor, but Frost paid him no mind. This was too important. A young lady's life was at stake.

  Fine. Perhaps that was doing it up a bit brown, but Lavinia was in danger - from dying of a horrid disease if nothing else if she was left at Lycosura. His butler, his friends and propriety be damned.

  "Show them in here, please," Frost directed smoothly, pleased to note that both Rayne and Greer seemed to have recovered themselves sufficiently enough to look both bored and a trifle disinterested, as if this sort of event occurred every day. Perhaps he could count on them both after all.

  Before Claxton could even return to the hallway, Madame Desponia swept into the room in a cloud of cloyingly sweet perfume with Lavinia trailing meekly behind her. Frost was pleased to note that the madam had enough sense to clothe them both in widow's weeds, making it far less likely that their visit to his home would be remarked upon. The woman might be money hungry and brazen, but she was also not foolish enough to jeopardize her business - which relied greatly upon discretion - to be seen entering the residence of a viscount in broad daylight.

  "My lord," Desponia announced, looking directly at Frost and ignoring both Rayne and Greer, as well as Claxton who still hovered near the door as if he wished to toss the woman out on her arse, "I am here with Ianthe as you have requested. This had better be worth my time and effort, my lord. My girls do not come cheaply, as I am certain you know." There was an implied threat beneath her words but she did not voice them aloud, probably realizing that threatening a viscount in his own house with two other men - who were likely also men of some consequence - was not a particularly intelligent idea.

  In return, Frost gave her his most sincere smile, the one he typically reserved for dowagers and other doddering old women at social gatherings. "Thank you for coming on such short notice, Madame Desponia. I must apologize for my haste but after last night...well...when I awoke this morning, I found that I could not get the lovely Ianthe out of my mind."

  "I am very happy that she pleased you well last evening, my lord." Desponia, finally recognizing that they were not alone, chose her words more carefully now. "But I do not understand the undue haste for our presence here this morning. You could have sent 'round a note at a more civilized hour. This is simply not the done thing."

  As if inviting madams and whores into one's home was.

  "Yes, well, after I departed your establishment, I could not stop thinking about the lovely Ianthe." That was the truth, and Frost was determined to stick as close to the truth as was possible. "And I decided that I simply must have her. I could not wait a moment more to sample her delightful charms again. I am certain you understand, do you not?"

  At that moment, Frost knew he had overplayed his hand because Desponia's eyes lit up, most likely with the thought of all the coins that would fill her pockets. "That can certainly be arranged, my lord. After all," she glanced slyly at Rayne, though if she recognized him, she gave no indication of it, "I specialize in some of the more unusual delights of the flesh. I am certain we can work out something that will be beneficial to both of us. For instance, you might call on her three or four nights a week while she works for me the rest of the time."

  There was no question that Desponia had quickly figured out that Frost wished to purchase Ianthe from her at just about any cost. The woman's eyes practically gleamed with avarice and he wondered how badly he had bungled things. Perhaps he should have put a bit more thought into this plan of his. It hadn't occurred to him that Desponia would not allow him to purchase Lavinia outright, but it should have. The woman would make far more from Lavinia as a working whore than by simply selling her to Frost.

  "I was actually thinking of a more permanent arrangement, madam." Frost knew he had to salvage the situation as best he could, but in truth, he hadn't imagined it going this wrong this rapidly. "I find that I do not wish to share the young lady's affections. My taste for virgin flesh, or recently virgin at any rate, is greater than I had assumed." Lord, he sounded crass, which was so unlike him, but he was rattled. And he didn't want Lavinia to object to his words or his proposal. In fact, he prayed that she kept silent until negotiations were over, though given her temperament, that was highly unlikely.

  Desponia gave a dry chuckle. "Ah, that is not possible, my lord. For how am I to put a price on such beauty and innocence? She might yet make me a fortune."

  Just then, Harry cleared his throat, not allowing Frost to reply. "My lady, if I may?" He rushed on without waiting for her nod of approval. "As I am certain you are aware, Lord Chillton is not a man to dither on about a decision. When he sees something he wishes to obtain, he goes after it. As a businesswoman, I am certain you can respect that." Then Harry inclined his head towards Lavinia. "And I mean no disrespect when I say that, while Miss Ianthe is quite lovely, her beauty will soon begin to fade. After all, she would already be well on the shelf, if not a spinster, if she were in Society. She is what, five and twenty, at the youngest? Perhaps even as much as eight and twenty? You know as well as I that for a lady in her profession, that is rather old, even if she is just now deflowered." Harry added a sly grin for good measure. "Makes men think of their wives back home rather than the young innocents they wish to bed, does it not?"

  The brothel owner's lips twitched in annoyance. She knew Harry had a point. Several good ones in fact. "I will grant you that she is older than most of her ilk, but until last evening, she was untouched, sir. And who are you to speak for Lord Chillton?"

  He bowed low, almost deferential now but with an edge of danger about him as well. "I am Mr. Harris Greer of the Bow Street office. Though my familiars refer to me as Harry. You may call me Mr. Greer, however." He then gestured to where Rayne still stood lounging against a shelf of books. "And that is Lord Brook Bexley, the Earl of Raynecourt." Rayne gave a small, cheery wave. "He is, shall we say, extremely interested in this transaction as well."

  The implication of the Runner's words was clear, and while Frost had enjoyed two women at on
ce in the past, he had no desire to share a woman with another man. But then, Desponia did not need to know that. And Rayne, thank God, seemed more than willing to play along. From the small smile on his lips, he was perhaps enjoying himself a little too much.

  Frost risked a look at Lavinia as well. While her mouth was drawn into a thin, grim line and her eyes flashed fire, she thankfully still remained silent. Last night, he had requested that she trust him. Apparently she still did this morning as well.

  "I...see." It was obvious from the apprehension in Desponia's eyes that the presence of a Runner changed things greatly. Greer could cause trouble for the woman if he wished and she well knew it. "What do you propose, my lord? I am certain that I can find a way to accommodate your wishes." she finally asked, though given the expression on her face, it pained her greatly to do so.

  "I wish to purchase Miss Ianthe from you. Set her up as my mistress, shall we say?" Frost glanced at Harry who had once more begun to examine the floor globe he had nearly knocked over earlier. At a slight nod of the other man's head, Frost continued. "Make no mistake. I do appreciate what you will be giving up by selling the chit to me now, and I intend to make certain you are well compensated for your impending loss. Say a flat five hundred pounds?"

  Desponia shook her head. "It must be fifteen-hundred, at least. She would make me that much, if not more, despite her limited years."

  Lavinia looked as if she wanted to object, but then clearly thought better of it and clamped her lips shut. Frost had to give the chit credit. She was far more intelligent than he had given her credit for the previous evening. Candlewood had been right after all. The man usually was.

  "No more than seven hundred at the very most." That came from Rayne, the first words he had spoken since the two women had entered the room. He was now slowly perusing one of Frost more disreputable books, that particular one complete with illustrations of how a woman might take pleasure from two men at once. It was not lost on Frost that Rayne made certain Desponia noticed what he was looking at within the book's pages. "With two of us having at her," then Rayne shrugged casually before continuing, "perhaps three if Harry has a free moment, Miss Ianthe will lose her luster a bit quicker, I fear." Then he grinned his trademark lopsided grin that made spinsters swoon and young debutantes giggle.

  The madam's eyes snapped back to Frost, as did Lavinia's. Frost could tell from her expression that she prayed the earl was joking. Frost simply prayed that Lavinia continued to remain silent.

  "My lord!" Desponia finally protested. "Do you truly think so little of this woman? After all, she was the subject of betting books all over London until last night! That alone will make men eager to bed her!"

  Frost could feel his pulse begin to pound behind his eyes once more. He hated referring to Lavinia as if she was a whore. In fact, he found this entire situation distasteful. However it also could not be helped. If he was to free her from Desponia's clutches, it had to be done. No matter how crass the entire transaction sounded.

  "I will offer one-thousand pounds for the chit. Not a penny more." Frost pinned Desponia with a glare. "Do not test me, madam. I am attempting to be a gentleman, for I have already offered far more than the little minx will ever be worth, even if she services ten men a night for the remainder of her time with you. I would suggest you take the offer."

  "As would I." That came from Harry. "It is more than fair, my lady. And very generous, as well, given what the man will receive in return. I would wager that his upkeep of a mistress will cost him far more coin than your upkeep of another whore." He turned to Lavinia. "No offense, my dear."

  For a moment, Frost thought that Lavinia might lash out in anger. Instead, she merely inclined her head like the lady he knew she was beneath the widow's weeds. "None taken, Mr. Greer. I appreciate your candor."

  Frost cleared his throat, eager to have this nasty business concluded. "Well, Madame Desponia? Do we have an agreement?"

  Reluctantly, she nodded though it was clear she did not like the terms. However, she was also likely aware that she would not receive better. "We do. I will have my coachman bring in her trunk. She has but one." To the woman's left, Lavinia clutched her small traveling valise tightly, as if she was still uncertain of the arrangement. Frost knew Lavinia had every right to be wary.

  "Claxton will see to it." The viscount gave a nod to the silent butler who, having never really left, now departed just as quietly as he had been standing there all along. "And then there is the matter of payment." He moved to his desk where he had stashed several small bags of coins that morning. Selecting the correct one, he held it out to Desponia who reached for it eagerly. However before she could snatch it from his hand, Harry moved to stand between them.

  Reaching into his coat, the Runner pulled out a folded up document. "Sign this, madam, if you would, please." Harry placed the paper on Frost's desk and reached for a nearby quill and ink well. "By doing so, you will relinquish all claim on the woman known by all in this room as Ianthe. You will also not request more money than what you will be paid today. You will also relinquish any right you have to take this man to court regarding this matter."

  Frost had no idea that Harry was so well prepared. In fact, he would never have thought of such a thing, though his solicitor likely would have - and then later scolded Frost for not securing the transaction. For a moment, Frost thought that Desponia would refuse, but with a resigned sigh, she snatched the proffered quill from the Runner's hand and scratched her name hastily on the paper.

  "Gads, all of you men of power are alike. Wresting the last word from a poor, innocent businesswoman." She glared at Frost as he sanded the paper to ensure the ink did not smear and then tucked it back into his desk drawer, which he promptly locked.

  That made Harry laugh, a sound that Frost wasn't certain he had ever heard the man make before. "A man of power must protect his interests, just as a woman with a certain degree of power should as well. Surely you can appreciate that, Madame Desponia."

  "I suppose," she grumbled, not pleased in the least with losing the woman she had hoped would become her new source of income. "But that does not mean I have to like it!"

  "We are concluded then?" Frost asked, wishing the woman to perdition and out of his study. "For I have plans for my newest acquisition this morning. As I am certain my friends do as well."

  Desponia gave a snort of derision. "So gauche. Even for a lord." Then she turned and stalked to the door just as Metford, the under-butler, appeared at the doorway. Frost had no doubt that Claxton had issued Metford to stand guard in his absence. His household staff really was far more clever than he often gave them credit for. He should likely increase their pay. "Good day, Lord Chillton. May you enjoy your new purchase." Then she gave a small curtsey to the other two men. "Lord Raynecourt. Mr. Greer. I wish I could say that it was a pleasure." Then she was gone and with her, the feeling of oppression and fear that had descended upon the room from the moment she had entered.

  For a moment, no one spoke. Then Rayne gave another laugh. "Well. That was entertaining."

  "No. That was appalling. Robert! I am highly disappointed in you!"

  Frost, who had been making certain his desk drawer was securely locked, did not even need to look up to see who had made the proclamation. "Mother. I was unaware that you were awake at this hour. That is unlike you."

  "Humpf," she groused as she entered the room, a much more dignified female presence than Desponia had been or could hope to be. "I would wager that there is a great deal you do not know about me, my dear. Or regarding what I do with my day." Lady Chillton stopped in the center of the room and glared at all three men, leaving only Lavinia, who was still strangely silent, free of her censure. "Including that I am, and have always been, aware of all of your activities. Including the unsavory ones. Even when you are making a misguided attempt to be noble."

  "Mother." Frost did his best to hold his composure, but until this moment, the very idea that his mother might be aware of exac
tly what he did with his time had never crossed his mind. He had assumed she was blissfully unaware of his activities. Clearly, he had been wrong in that assumption. "I...ah..."

  Lady Chillton pinned both Greer and Rayne with a glare. "Gentlemen. If you would leave us now, you shall have my gratitude and not my displeasure." She turned at the sound of a commotion in the hall. "Oh, good Lord! Now what? Have all of my children taken leave of their senses and good manners? Dory! Sarah! Do not stand outside lurking about like a bunch of heathens. Enter this room at once like the ladies you are."

  Frost was beyond mortified when his sisters glided into his study as if they were attending a ball - Dory especially, as she was clad in one of her best and newest morning gowns. Sarah entered and for once appeared nervous. A brief glance to his left let Frost know that Rayne was doing his best to hide the book he had been perusing in Desponia's presence, attempting to quickly stuff it into any available crack in the shelves he could find. And was that a blush on the man's cheeks of all things? Out of all of them, only Harry looked perfectly at ease.

  "You called, Mama?" Dory had the temerity to ask with all the grace of a proper lady. If she noticed her mother's sour look, she did not acknowledge it. But then, that was Dory.

  "Your brother is in a bit of a situation, I fear. Please be a good hostesses and show our guests out, would you? You both know Lord Raynecourt, but I would hope that you will extend our courtesy to Mr. Harry Greer of Bow Street as well when you escort them both to the door." Lady Clara Tillsbury gestured to the Runner who sketched a low bow.

  "I am delighted to make your acquaintance, my ladies," he said, his voice low and rumbling. Frost was certain he saw Dory's eyes light up with utter delight at the mere sound of the man's voice. That did not bode well, but with his mother present, Frost doubted now was a good time to say anything on the matter. He might still technically be head of the household but there was no doubt that his mother could still wield her influence when she chose. And he usually listened when she did so. She was still his mother, after all. And had been extremely tolerant with him over the years. Now was not the time to test the limits of her restraint, he decided.