From the Viscount With Love

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  Rising back up to his full height, he pulled her against him and used his fingers to tilt her chin up so that she might look him in the eye. Her light blue eyes shimmered in the near darkness, the only light spilling in dimly from a door at the far end of the corridor. One more, Frost thought he could find the answers to all of his questions if only he looked into Lavinia's eyes long enough.

  "Fine. Not like this," he agreed, coming back to his senses at the feel of her small hand pressing back against his chest. Good God, had he really been about to seduce her in a butler's pantry? Where were his manners? His civility? He knew better! No woman deserved this sort of treatment and he told her so. "You are a lady and deserve better. I offer you my deepest apologies. It shan't happen again."

  Frost thought Lavinia would smile, but instead, the light in her eyes dimmed a bit and her smile turned sad and wistful. "Or it might. If not at your hand then at another man's. I was a lady. Once. Now, I am a whore who left her castle home in Northumberland, not by choice but by force. I am afraid that I will never be a true lady again." Then, as if suddenly aware that she had revealed far too much, her eyes flew to his in a panic.

  This time, however, Frost would not allow her to retract her story or pretend she had misspoken. And the best way to do that was with another kiss or three. Despite his promise to keep his hands off of her.

  His lips a mere whisper's breath away from hers, he smiled in the darkness, even though he knew she could not see him. "To me, Lea, you will always be a lady." Then he kissed her and brought his hand to her breast once more. And that was the last either of them thought about her past for a good, long time. Promises be damned.

  Chapter Eight

  Town Tattler

  The end of the Season is fast approaching and with it, the last balls of the season, much to my regret. In fact, I counted no less that two and twenty different balls last evening that attracted the true cream of the Upper Ten Thousand. Even amongst our set, that is quite a high number, especially as the Dowager Duchess of Winterset has decided to hold her infamous "Night of A Thousand Stars" ball at Christmastide this year in the far-flung reaches of Yorkshire. Then again, Highford Hall, the dowager's country seat, is in Yorkshire and she is not as spry as she once was. So it is little wonder, I suppose, that she wishes to bring the glitter of London to her door at least once before passing the mantel on to the next generation.

  In other news, the lovely Lady Lavinia Haverfield did, in fact, make her much heralded return to Society last night at Lord and Lady Dershem's affair. Well, I suppose one could term it as much heralded, though until a few days ago, most among our set had nearly forgotten the young lady's existence, though the always-keen-minded Dowager Duchess of Holmby did recall Lady Lavinia's brief presentation at Court so very long ago. And if the dowager remembers, then it must certainly have transpired, even if no one else can recall the happy event.

  I am told that, though she was forced to make do with a pre-made display gown until her full wardrobe could be completed, her frothy sapphire silk confection for the evening came from the shop of Madame LaVallier, of course. That, certainly, is a sign of the young lady's good breeding and family connections. Of course, I am also given to understand that there was a conversation of sorts between Miss Haverfield, her cousin Lady Sarah Tillsbury and the perfectly dreadful Miss Marietta Crestwood. What that woman of low morals had to say to such upstanding ladies of fine reputation, I do not know, but I can only imagine that it was nothing the Chillton women wished to hear!

  -Madame C

  Biting into a bit of toast, Frost tossed aside the last of the morning's tabloid pages, thankful that none had remarked upon his disappearance with Lavinia the previous evening. After their delightful interlude, it had not been easy sneaking them both back into the ball without being noticed, but with Harry's help, he had somehow managed. As luck would have it, the couple had stumbled upon the Runner as he was returning from the refreshment room with cold cups of punch for both Dory and Sarah. While the other man had shaken his head in what looked like a hint of disapproval, he had gone to fetch Frost's sisters as requested and allowed them to lead Lavinia back into the ballroom as if she had been in their company all along. That left Frost and Harry to meander back into the giant, overheated room as if they had merely been out on the terrace for some air.

  As acting went...well...it was certainly not a performance worthy of a Drury Lane stage, but it had passed well enough. And it had given Frost the opportunity to drop a word in Harry's ear regarding the new clues to her past that Lavinia had accidentally confessed in the heat of passion.

  There was a part of Frost that felt a trifle dishonest passing on the information to Harry. They were Lavinia's secrets after all and a part of him felt she had a right to them. She was at risk. She had admitted as much, which only confirmed Candlewood's suspicions. Then, Frost remembered that she was under his roof and his mother was not exactly pleased with the arrangement, even though she was the one who had suggested it in the first place. Above all else, Frost's duty had to be to his family, no matter how much he might wish it otherwise. After all, without family, where would Society be? Even the worst sort of rakes and scoundrels knew that. Well, in Frost's opinion, they should anyway.

  "Ahem." That sort of disapproving throat clearing could only come from one person.

  "Yes, Claxton?" Frost asked, not bothering to look up from the next section of paper, one that had a fascinating bit about a horse race between two gentlemen through Hyde Park the previous day. One of the men sounded like the unknown gentleman from the Dershem ball the night before and for some reason, it piqued his interest, though he could not say why.

  "Lord Raynecourt to see you, sir." Frost heard the butler shuffle and he had no doubt that his friend was right behind the old man. After all, this was as much Rayne's home at times as it was Frost's, right down the interfering mother. There was no need to stand on formality after all this time.

  Therefore, Frost was not surprised when Rayne entered and without a word, helped himself to a wide selection of foods on the sideboards littered throughout the breakfast room, or as his mother referred to it the "breakfast nook." Of course, the room had once been two formal parlors that were now joined together and was big enough to hold at least part of Wellington's army rather comfortably. There was nothing "nook"-ish about the place in Frost's opinion.

  When Rayne finally plopped rather unceremoniously into the seat across from him, Frost finally looked up. He was uncertain how to greet his friend. Despite the knowledge that his old friend had been at Sarah's side much of the previous evening by his mother's request, something about the situation still did not sit right with him. But then, this was Rayne, and like Frost himself, he did not favor innocents. Then again, Lavinia was an innocent. Except...she wasn't. Not really.

  Frost did not wish to dwell upon the subject any longer, for all it did was make his head ache at his temples. So instead, he picked up his coffee cup and took a long sip before placing the delicate china back on the table. He had a feeling he would need the bracing jolt the hot beverage offered if he was going to get through this day. On the other hand, he was not certain there was enough coffee in all of England to see him through this time with Lavinia. The woman truly was a minx. Worst of all, she didn't even try to be!

  "Bad night?" Rayne asked cheerfully as he pushed Frost's coffee cup aside and reached for the cream to add to his tea, sloshing the liquid out of the cup a bit in the process. "I had thought you would be in a joyful mood, having disappeared with Lavinia for a quarter hour or more last evening."

  Frost winced as he pushed a bit of egg around his plate, finding that his appetite had suddenly fled. "Was I that obvious?"

  "To me and Harry? Yes." The earl grinned around a bite of kippers, showing the deplorable manners he could only get away with at own home or here at Chillton Hall. "To everyone else? No. I'm certain no one missed you. If they had, someone would have reported your disappearance to at least one of the so
ciety gossips." He used his fork to point to the stack of newspapers that sat to Frost's right. "And since you are here eating and not out running about like a fool on a mission to save his own hide, I shall assume that no one did."

  Rayne was all too cheery this morning for Frost's liking, especially as he was still at odds with himself for revealing what little he knew of Lavinia's secret to Harry. So instead, Frost concentrated on the earl now invading his breakfast nook. "Yes, well, so far, no one seems to have noticed anything amiss. I merely wished to speak to Lady Lavinia alone and could not find another way to do so without compromising her."

  Mirth sparkled in Rayne's eyes. "Ah, yes. The old 'speak with the lady alone' tactic. I am well familiar with that one." The he plucked a muffin from a basket one of the servants had placed on the table earlier. "But do have a care, my friend. As you have already acknowledged, Lavinia has secrets. Ones that would likely do your family harm if anyone knew."

  Pushing himself back in his chair and no longer interested in eating breakfast, Frost glowered at his friend. "Do you think I do not know that?"

  "I think that at the moment, you are not always thinking with your head but rather with another part of your anatomy." Now it was Rayne's turn to become serious, his amber eyes darkening. "Use caution, my friend. Men like us risk a great deal if the games we play come crashing down around us." His gaze strayed to the doorway, as if he expected to see someone appear there at any moment. "I do not wish to see your family suffer because you have chosen to play with fire."

  "Lavinia is not fire! She poses no risk to me or my family!" Frost was more than perturbed with his old friend. In fact he was downright angry. "She needs my help! Nothing more!"

  For a long moment, Rayne was silent, sitting in his chair as he studied his old friend, and Frost found he was decidedly uncomfortable with that knowing golden gaze turned in his direction. If there was anyone that could tell when he was hiding something, even from himself, it was the earl.

  Finally, Rayne shook his head, his light brown curls bouncing as he did so. "I am not even certain you know what game you are playing, my friend. Though I will allow that Lavinia is a lady, though one with secrets that not even our good friend Harry has been able to uncover just yet." He picked up his teacup, draining it. "But still have a care, Frost. Lives are not to be trifled with lightly. I care about your family as if they were my own. I will not allow you to sacrifice them while you chase illusions." Rising, the earl picked up his gloves and then placed his calling card squarely on the table. "Please tell Sarah I will call for her later. Just before the fashionable hour, of course. Your mother has requested that I take her driving in Hyde Park this afternoon so that she might appear to be more eligible to the bachelors of the ton. And I am more than happy to oblige."

  "And if I forbid it?" Frost grumbled, though his heart was not in an argument with his best friend at the moment. "After all, I am the man of the house, and in charge of this family."

  "Then stop thinking with your cock and start thinking with your head," Rayne snapped. "Lavinia is lovely, but you have more than fulfilled your duty to Candlewood by bringing her here. It is only through the grace and intelligence of your mother that this situation has not turned into a horrible muck. It would be wise of you to remember that." Then the earl stalked off towards the door, but paused for a moment before he turned. "And thank you for breakfast, as always. You may inform Cook that her currant and orange muffins are as light and delightful as ever."

  Then Rayne was gone, leaving Frost to do nothing but stew and mull over his friend's words. And wonder why Rayne cared so much anyway. They were both rakes who lived as they pleased. True, they had families and responsibilities to their respective estates, but they had both always indulged themselves where they wished. As long as their families did not fall to harm, neither of them had ever given their actions much thought. After all, they were young, wealthy, and titled gentlemen of untold riches. What could possibly touch them?

  Nothing, Frost realized with a start. Because of their positions in life, they were immune to just about everything. But scandal could touch the women in their lives if they allowed it. Rayne had two sisters after all, both of them still quite young, though they were already out in Society. Though, much like his own sisters, neither of the Bexley girls had made a successful match as of yet, even though they were both considered true Incomparables. And for a moment, Frost wondered how much of their lack of success on the Marriage Mart was due to Rayne's wild ways?

  Men were expected to sow their wild oats, after all, but was there a point when things went too far? When sisters' reputations were damaged by mere association with their brothers? Frost had never given it much thought before, but now he did. Was that why Rayne had ended things with Miss Crestwood? For a mistress, the woman had been becoming increasingly bold in the months before Rayne dismissed her, frequenting shops where typically only the highest reaches of London society dared to tread. Had that caused the dragons of the ton to begin to whisper about the Bexley girls, wondering if they shared their brother's proclivities for wildness, even though neither of them had ever put a foot wrong, at least to Frost's knowledge?

  And if that was the case, had he himself inadvertently done the same thing to Sarah, Dory and Aurelia without even realizing it? And if he had, if he had somehow cast them in a bad light to all of Society with his past actions, what would being caught out with Lavinia do to their reputations? Would it so thoroughly ruin them that no man, not even a fortune hunter, would have them?

  Was that what Rayne had been trying to tell him?

  From the moment he had become Chillton, Frost had done as he pleased and damn the consequences, except when those consequences might break the handful of social norms he held so dear. He had tried to be as discreet as possible, but he had also not particularly cared when he had been caught out. In fact, he had usually laughed off his mentions in the gossip sheets. In doing so, had he hurt his family? And would being caught with Lavinia be the final straw that would end any chance his sisters had for happiness?

  No. He could not allow that to happen. Sitting there in the breakfast nook of his London home, Frost made a silent vow to redouble his efforts in that regard. He would keep his hands off of Lavinia from this point forward. When Harry found her family, then he would decide what course of action to take with her future, hopefully one that would allow her to completely reclaim her place in Society. But her future would not include her in his bed. It could not. Risk of discovery while both of them were under his roof was too high.

  It was time, as Rayne had so succinctly pointed out, to stop thinking with his cock and begin thinking with his head.

  Mind made up once more, Frost poured himself some more coffee and rang for a fresh plate of eggs, his having long since grown cold. Even as he did so, however, a small voice in the back of his mind whispered that he had made the very same vow to himself yesterday morning, but in less than a day he had broken it. That did not bode well for this morning's vow, though he pretended he did not heart that voice. Instead, he simply went on with his breakfast.

  Chapter Nine

  By the time the afternoon arrived, Frost was feeling rather pleased with himself regarding Lavinia. Once more, he vowed to speak with her at an appropriate time and let her know that his first duty had to be to his family. He would make certain she was safe and, if she wished, well provided for, though he doubted that she would accept what she would view as his charity, even though he did not mean it as such.

  However, he would not risk kissing her again, no matter how sweet or tempting her lips appeared to be. Nor would he risk conversing with her, no matter how quick her wit or how sharp her intelligence. Yes, he had seen glimpses of all of that and more, in particular that first night at Lycosura when she had surprised him with her practicality and boldness at nearly every turn. But he could not and would not risk his family for what was likely to be little more than a single night - or possibly two, for he could be very persuasiv
e when he wished to be - with her in his bed.

  After all, Lavinia had made it plain that she did not plan to stay in Town beyond the end of the season. She had not said where she would go and likely, she did not yet know, but she had made her intentions clear. She was not one for Society and therefore, would not remain in his world. The only reason she was still here at all was because of his mother. And the risk of scandal.

  However, shortly after Rayne called for Sarah so that he might take her driving, much of Frost's cheery mood vanished instantly. Despite his mother's logic and seeming wisdom, Frost did not much like the idea of his best friend squiring his sister about Town as if they were courting. It was...unseemly. And made him vaguely uneasy.

  So to take his mind off of everything currently amiss in his life, Frost had requested that his favorite stallion, Hercules, be saddled so that he might enjoy a brisk ride though the far reaches of Hyde Park were few people dared to tread these days. The ride had been invigorating, and Frost had given Hercules his head, or as much as he dared in London. The massive black horse was still unpredictable at times, especially in crowds, and Frost did not wish to risk anyone being hurt if the animal spooked.

  Once he was in the far-flung reaches of the park however, Frost let the reins fall a bit slack and Hercules had taken off as if the hounds of Hell themselves were after him. Eventually, however, even the massive beast had tired, especially as he did little more than move in circles, a gentle tug on the reins directing him the way Frost wished him to go. Now both man and beast were standing quietly at the far edge of the Serpentine, an area that was now almost completely overgrown, its steep banks unacceptable for ladies in delicate - not to mention slippery - slippers.