Lavinia stood tall and straight as she delivered the set-down, refusing to be bowed by the overly gaudy woman before her. "Now I would suggest that you apologize to Lady Sarah as well. Her life is none of your concern. Really, my dear woman. Such insults, not to mention the sheer temerity to speak to her at all, are simply not the done thing. Especially to someone above your station."
That was, almost word for word, the same insult that had been flung at Lavinia herself after Burfield had passed and she had expressed sympathy to the man's daughter. It had hurt then, and it likely hurt now, not that Miss Crestwood would ever acknowledge any injured feelings. And there was a part of Lavinia that regretted saying such an awful thing. But if she did not, who would? Certainly not Madame LaVallier who wished to keep both women as clients. And likely not Lady Chillton, for she would not want to be seen even daring to speak to a creature so low as Miss Crestwood. And certainly not about such a scandalous topic. In the middle of the modiste's no less.
And Sarah would remain defenseless, clearly in love with a man she could not have and unable to fight back against the woman who had once been his lover.
That left Lavinia to defend her new friend. She was from the north - both in truth and in rumor. Her behavior, though brash, was not completely out of line for one in her situation. After all, she had supposedly recently lost her father and been dumped on the doorstep of relative strangers. She would be forgiven much by Society, at least for a time. Not that it would much matter in the end, for she would soon be gone from this world and her reputation - or lack thereof - would not matter in the least.
"How dare you! You are nothing but a poor relation living on charity! The sheer cheek of you!" Marietta Crestwood's body went so rigid that she was practically vibrating with anger. Her nostrils flared again in a most unladylike fashion and her hands balled into fists at her side. Had they been elsewhere, Lavinia had no doubt that the other woman would have struck her and pleasured in doing so.
Just then, Madame LaVallier arrived before the situation could get much worse. Lavinia was not certain whether she was thankful or not. "Lady Sarah. Lady Lavinia. Miss Crestwood. Is there anything amiss?"
"No, Madame, there is not," Sarah said with the first hint of a smile Lavinia had seen from the moment the wretched Crestwood woman had appeared. "Not in the least. We were merely discussing...dress trims. Weren't we?" She held up her hand to show a bit of blue velvet ribbon clutched tightly within it, as if to back up her claim.
"Of course, my lady." Miss Crestwood didn't dare contradict Sarah in front of the modiste for she would then risk losing her ability to patronize the store. And any lady of note in London owned at least one Madame LaVallier gown. At least if they wanted to be considered both in the first stare of fashion and a diamond of the first water. "I would choose the velvet over the lace. It is better suited to you."
That, at least, was the truth, and with a sharp turn on her booted foot, Miss Crestwood stalked away, followed closely by a very nervous modiste.
When they were finally gone, Sarah let out a small sigh and closed her eyes. "Thank you. That was not necessary, however. My quarrel with Miss Crestwood is not yours. But I do appreciate what you did just now. When she approaches me, I fear that I tend to freeze. All I can see in my mind's eye is her with Lord Raynecourt. And at that, I lose my temper. And say things that I often regret later."
Lavinia grasped the other woman's hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. "You are my friend, Sarah. The first I have had in my years. I hope that in time, I can become friends with Dory and Aurelia too. But just know that I defend my friends when an injustice is served. For no one ever defended me, and I greatly wished that someone would. Especially when I needed help the most."
Once more, Lavinia realized she was skirting far too close to the truth, but she could not help herself. In many ways, she was no better than the woman she had just chastised. However, she had been born and raised a lady, no matter what had occurred since. In Lavinia's mind, surely that should count for something. Moreover, she had long accepted that she would never find her happy ending. But Sarah and Lord Raynecourt? They might yet, at least if there was no Marietta Crestwood interfering in their lives. Lavinia had the impression that after today, the woman would use more caution when considering whether or not to approach Sarah and taunt her about Lord Raynecourt. Even if that was all that came of today, Lavinia would be satisfied.
"Still, thank you." There was gratitude in the other woman's eyes and Lavinia hoped that one day soon, Lord Raynecourt would realize what a treasure he had in Sarah Tillsbury. She was clearly devoted to him. Lavinia could only wish that she would one day be half as lucky.
After that, the two women returned to the fripperies on display, but for Lavinia, some of the delight had gone out of the afternoon. Oh, she still enjoyed pouring over pattern books and selecting fabrics and trims and what nots. After all, she had never shopped for a new wardrobe before and in truth, it really was quite thrilling.
She ooh-ed and aah-ed over the store's elegant furnishings, commenting that the dress maker at home did not boast chairs covered in the finest of French silk and damask or such softly perfect lighting that any woman would look beautiful within its glow. She allowed Lady Chillton to order a massive new wardrobe for her and enjoyed the good-natured teasing from all of the Tillsbury women when she instantly fell in love with a bolt of the sheerest pale-pink fabric that would make a delightful nightrail - though one more suited to a wedding trousseau than a general nightrail.
Lavinia also enjoyed their visits to the milliner's, the jeweler's, and the perfumer's, not to mention their brief visit to The Every Thing Useful Shoppe, a newly opened store on the far edge of Bond Street that catered to women seeking cosmetics and other skin treatments. Though she was still dressed in her same old clothes that she had brought with her from Lycosura, Lavinia still felt as if she was finally truly becoming a lady. Especially when a group of young gentlemen tipped their hats in the direction of the Chillton coach as they passed, sending all of the women - Lady Chillton included - into a bout of laughter.
In short, it was the sort of day Lavinia had only ever dreamed about and never quite expected to enjoy. However, she was also pragmatic enough to realize that each day she spent in the company of these women, enjoying the life of a lady, the more difficult it would be to leave. And she would need to leave soon - before anyone saw through the hastily concocted web of lies that the viscountess has spun. Though where she would go or what she would do, she did not know. However, Lavinia was confident she would figure something out. She always did.
Frost was an altogether more complex problem and one Lavinia did not wish to think about at the moment. Her reaction to him was purely physical. It could be nothing more than that. She would not allow it to be. He knew what she was. And while she feared that she might be falling in love with him - and perhaps had already been from the moment she first laid eyes on him - there was no way he could possibly love her in return. After all, he had rescued her from a whorehouse! And worse, his mother knew!
Lady Chillton was an enigma as well, in some ways, far worse than her son could ever be. Lavinia knew she was only under the respectable roof of the Chillton's town home and not installed at the love nest because of the viscountess' interference. But had that been to save the family's reputation as she claimed? Or did she simply not trust her son - who had a vast reputation with the wrong sort of ladies - to keep his hands off an already fallen women? Or had the older woman simply felt a moment of pity for Lavinia? Perhaps it was a combination of all three?
Whatever the reason, Lavinia remained a touch uneasy as she alighted from the family coach that had pulled to a stop in front of Gunter's. Aurelia had announced that she was simply dying for an ice, and of course, everyone else in the carriage agreed that Lavinia simply must try one, too. So they were going to Gunter's at Lady Chillton's insistence.
No, Lavinia could not get used to this life. It was far too risky - for both he
r health and her heart. But oh, how she wished she could. And she wished, just for the briefest of moments, that she could do it with Frost by her side. But that was reaching far too high. And she knew it.
Chapter Seven
She was beyond lovely. She was simply breathtaking. And he wanted her with a desire that bordered on sheer insanity. Especially since they had only just met a few days ago.
As Frost watched Lavinia dance a lively reel with Lord Hunt, he could feel his body tighten once more with barely contained need, and he knew this nonsense needed to stop. Now. Before he did something foolish. Like take her to his bed and damn the consequences. And his family.
That morning, shortly after he had received yet another, albeit far calmer lecture from his mother regarding his actions where Lavinia was concerned, Frost had removed himself to one of his numerous clubs - both for a far more peaceful breakfast as well as to brood over the matter of the young woman now living beneath his roof at his mother's insistence. His mother really had put him in a very bad situation and he did not care for it one bit. Rot and bother anyway.
However, at some point - most likely over either a rasher of bacon or his third cup of coffee, which he preferred to tea - Frost had come to the inevitable conclusion that his mother was, sadly, correct. He had done a very foolish thing, or several of them, really, where Lavinia was concerned. All Candlewood had tasked him with was rescuing the girl if necessary. The duke had said nothing about Frost bringing her under his roof and his protection, let alone purchasing her outright from the brothel. Or putting his sisters' futures at risk by bringing a suspected fallen woman into their midst. For even if Lavinia was still technically chaste, she was far from innocent.
For a man like Frost who, despite his rather debauched reputation, firmly believed that some rules of Society were absolutely necessary, lest everything fall to Hell and back, his actions where Lavinia was concerned made absolutely no sense at all. They were completely out of character for him, especially since he had so recently recommitted to his bachelorhood and his life of leisure. As he sat there and gazed out the window at the fine London morning before him, he had vowed to do better in the future, to once more put his family first in his life and to distance himself from Lavinia.
She might be a bit hurt, true, especially after the way he had gone to her room last night, half mad with lust and kissed her as if she was the last woman in all of England. But certainly when he explained himself, she would understand. Wouldn't she?
He prayed that she would and when he left yet another one of his clubs that afternoon, he had felt rather good about himself. He had a plan, one that had technically been in place in the days before Harry Greer had shown up on Frost's doorstep with a bottle of scotch and a missive from The Bloody Duke. It was a plan that would benefit him and his sisters. His mother as well. And Frost did like plans. Very much. They kept order rather nicely to his way of thinking.
Then, Frost had returned home to Grovesnor Square and realized that his carefully crafted plan for himself, his family, and Lavinia was utterly worthless. Because Lavinia in simple clothing had been lovely. But Lavinia in a custom gown from Madame LaVallier was utterly enchanting. And more than a little beguiling. One glimpse and he had quite literally felt the breath stolen from his chest and it hurt to breathe. Rot and bother it all, anyway. Again.
Frost's predicament had only become worse when his mother - his mother of all people! - had suggested to him that if this ruse was going to work, he needed to escort Lavinia into Lord Dershem's ball that night, dance with her during the opening set, and then make certain her dance card was full for the rest of the evening. It was the only way, Lady Chillton claimed, that the family could stave off scandal and perpetuate the ruse regarding Lavinia's past as an orphaned relative from the north. In Frost's opinion, that was an extremely bad idea. He had no idea why his mother did not share that opinion, either. On all other occasions, she was an extremely intelligent woman. Yet on this point, she would not be swayed.
Instead, Lady Chillton had simply reminded Frost rather tartly that he was the one who had caused this problem so therefore, he would have to fix it as well. And he had intended to. Truly, he had. Just...not in this manner.
Except his mother would brook no argument and had already sent out missives to Lord Raynecourt and the "delightful" - to use his mother's precise term - Mr. Harry Greer, requesting the men's presence at the earl's ball so that they might provide a united front and at the same time help watch over Sarah, Dory and Aurelia. A duty that was normally assigned to Frost, who had no doubt his mother's version of a "request" was most likely a command wrapped in prettier words. And as for Frost himself? As head of the Chillton household, he was to make certain that Lavinia was properly reintroduced into Society. There would be no discussion on the matter either. Lady Chillton would not hear of it.
Frost had wanted to object, of course. But how could he? Because when he looked at his mother, he saw a woman who had survived a brutal, philandering, gambling wretch of a husband and come out the better for it. She was well-respected within Society and held several important positions in various charities, including recently being named the new president of the Ladies Society for the Advancement of Medicine. She was happy now, enjoying life in a way she never had while her husband was alive.
And even if Frost had wanted to be completely selfish and forget about the welfare of his sisters for even a moment, he could not and would not hurt his mother. There were times when she had been all that stood between him and yet another beating at his father's drunken hand. Often times, she had taken the beating herself rather than allow him to suffer again, especially if his injuries from his last go 'round with his sire were not yet healed.
So he had simply drawn in a long breath, cleared his mind, willed his unruly body to behave, and done as his mother commanded. After all, what choice did he have?
Now, Frost was beginning to wonder if he should not have worked more diligently to come up with a better solution to Lavinia's introduction to Society as a far-flung member of the Tillsbury clan. Because being responsible for her, watching over her and making certain no one took advantage of her was making him insane with jealousy. Not to mention fueling his already rampant lust.
He simply wished that he knew why this was happening. Perhaps if he knew the cause of his infatuation with the gorgeous brunette in the sapphire blue silk gown, then he might be better able to curb his desire. Or not. There was a tiny part of his mind that suspected Lavinia might have bewitched him, though he had no idea how she might have accomplished such a feat. Then again, until this moment, he had not even believed in bewitchment. But he did now.
"The lady is rather striking," Francis Deaver, Viscount Underhill, remarked as he appeared almost unnoticed at Frost's side. "I must confess that I am surprised your family hid her away in the northern reaches for so long. She is likely to make an excellent match, I would think."
For a moment, Frost simply took in the man standing to his left, forcing himself to remember that this was not Stephen Deaver, the man who used to hold the Underhill title, but rather his long-thought-dead twin brother and actual heir to the Framingham marquisate. This was Francis. Now there was a long and twisted family tree and for a moment, Frost was thankful that he was not in the other man's shoes. To be thought dead for so long and then reappear in London with no memory of what had come before was a fate almost too terrible to comprehend.
Not that Frost blamed Francis in the least. After all, being sold by a noble baby peddler as an infant was hardly the fault of the child. Though his return to Town had left a monumental mess for everyone to clean up when it had been revealed that Stephen, who had also been thought dead, returned as well, the victim of nasty wartime injuries that left him embattled and bitter. Still, Francis, whom Prinny had finally acknowledged as the real Lord Underhill, was not doing too badly for himself these days. At least not if the attention he had been receiving from the lovely Lady Charlotte Cleary, the daugh
ter of Lord and Lady Waverly, was any indication.
Not quite knowing what to say to the man, Frost finally settled on a loose version of the truth. "To be honest, we did not really know she existed. Well, we did, but gave her little thought in recent years, I am ashamed to admit. She was presented at court years ago and then immediately returned home to tend to family matters. My mother was busy preparing my sisters for their own-come outs at the time and somehow, messages were lost and notes not received. Lady Lavinia was here and gone from Town before any of us knew it." He took a sip of the horribly watered down champagne Lady Dershem was attempting to pass off as the best France had to offer. "I'm ashamed to admit as well that, given everything else going on in our lives, we sort of forgot about her since the family ties are rather thin and distant. We don't see much of my mother's family and never have."
Based on Lavinia's accent, Harry had suggested to Frost that very morning that she had likely grown up in Northumberland, somewhere along the Scottish border. So when Frost's mother had concocted her web of lies regarding Lavinia's past, she had stuck as close to the truth as was likely, especially since Lavinia herself refused to reveal any more of her past. Which, of course, mean that Harry had to dig deep to find the answers they were all looking for.
Except tonight, of course, when, by Lady Chillton's command, Harry had appeared in the Dershem's foyer the moment Frost and his family had arrived, ready to play escort for Dory. Again, at the viscountess' urging, much to Frost's confusion and Dory's delight.
From the Viscount With Love Page 10