From the Viscount With Love

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  "So? What do you say?" Frost nudged her lightly with his knee. "If you do not wish this arrangement, tell me now and we'll not speak of it again. But Lavinia?" He sighed softly. "After this strange and odd relationship of ours, you must surely see that I desire you to distraction. But I will only pursue it if you desire me as well."

  The logical part of Lavinia's mind urged her to tell him no. This was a horrible idea and while she was not a prostitute, there was an element of the seedy to what he was proposing. Then again, how would it be different if he had made the proposal to another Society miss? It wouldn't be and she was very aware that such arrangements were made all the time. The only true difference was, she lived under his roof. And that simply made assignations easier. Not harder. But the offer was the same one he might make - and likely had already made - to a woman of some good social standing. Especially a man who craved pleasure as much as he did.

  "Yes," she finally agreed, her voice so low and soft she barely heard her own reply. "Yes, I will become your lover, Robert. Whenever you wish."

  Bringing her hands to his lips, Frost kissed them and she wished that the fabric of her gloves was not a barrier to his true touch. "You will not regret this, Lavinia. I swear." Then, the sparkle was back in his eyes and she knew he was up to mischief again. "Come. Let us celebrate this moment. I feel it deserves some sort of recognition, if not outright celebration, don't you?"

  When Frost tugged on her hands and urged her to follow him deeper into the darkness, Lavinia went without question. She had made her choice and now, she would follow her heart and her body's desires. It was what she wanted after all, and likely her only chance to be with the man she had come to love deeply in such a short period of time.

  Lavinia expected Frost to ravish her as soon as the rest of the crowds milling about the gardens fell away. However, he surprised her by slowing their pace so that they might stroll leisurely though a part of the pleasure gardens currently undergoing renovations.

  Here and there, she could see bits of older statuary strewn about, some broken and some merely in need of a good cleaning. Though the path was not blocked in anyway, she had the impression that most people had the good sense not to wander down the unlit paths, instead sticking to the ones decorated with hundreds of candle-lit lanterns to illuminate the way.

  Every so often, however, she thought she heard a feminine giggle or a low chuckle, indicating that they were not the only couple seeking the privacy the dark sections of the garden offered. Though she did have the impression that she and Frost might be the only two that were not taking as much advantage of the seclusion as other couples were. At least if the occasional quickened breaths and tell-tale rustle of fabrics from beyond the hedgerows were any indication.

  Finally, they reached a part of the gardens that had obviously been in use recently, but were not occupied that particular evening. There were five supper boxes set around a central stage. The burned-down ends of candles littered the wooden platform and she saw a few spangles from what might have been a performer's costume strewn across the ground.

  Lavinia thought they might stop here, for the wide, low platform, while not very comfortable, was perfect for what he likely had in mind. After all, she had long since learned that ravishment need not necessarily be comfortable for the woman. However, Frost continued to guide her forward, passing by the small stage and still moving deeper into the gardens. Then she caught a whiff of cooler air and realized that they had actually passed through the center of the gardens themselves and returned to the edge of the complex near the Thames. They had, in essence, nearly doubled back around on themselves.

  Leaving her utterly and completely confused.

  "Was there a point to all of that?" she asked as he finally slowed as they approached some sort of folly that appeared to be more of a summerhouse than anything else.

  Frost continued around to the side of the structure that faced the river, reaching back to tug Lavinia along when he noticed she was not readily following him. "I enjoy seeing things that others have forgotten," he replied as he tried a succession of doors into the house before finding one that opened. "Pieces of the past are rather like a fine scotch to me. Something to be savored and enjoyed at leisure. Just like a lush and willing woman. They give me joy when I see their beauty, even in their abandonment. I fully blame Rayne for my sentimentality in that regard, as he adores the past to distraction, but what can you do?" Then he grinned. "Not to mention that I did not wish to be followed here. I desire this time alone with you above all else."

  Lavinia decided that she was not seeing what Frost was in this little building - though she did take his other meaning quite clearly. When one was alone in the dark, promises to treat a woman who was little better than a doxy like a lady obviously did not mean much when lust was involved. But that, she had long ago discovered, was the way of men. Rather than think about that now, however, she instead did what she always did when presented with new - not to mention a little worrisome - surroundings.

  As far as summerhouses went, the building was rather on the small side, little bigger than the gardener's shed back at her grandfather's castle. But it did boast six doors so she supposed that qualified it as a summerhouse rather than...well...something else. Leading her inside, Frost fumbled in the dark for a moment before somehow managing to light a branch of candles, indicating that he was familiar with the place.

  When he removed his mask, she did the same and continued to look around the small structure. As her eyes adjusted to the dark, Lavinia could see that this summerhouse had likely once been used as an office of some sort. There was a small desk set off to the side, along with three chairs and an ink well that had long since gone dry. There was also a long, narrow bed in the far corner. As far as beds went, it did not look especially comfortable, but then again, if this was what Frost wanted, she would not complain.

  She had agreed to become his lover. He had not specified where that event might take place. And she had not thought to ask.

  "It looks a bit small," Lavinia finally offered, though she tried to keep her voice cheerful. As she had just reminded herself, she had agreed to lie with him and he had obviously brought her to this place for some purpose. If not that, or at least not a pleasurable start on that, then what?

  Frost wrinkled his brow in confusion. "What? The bed?" He followed her gaze as best he could in the dim light. "Good God, Lavinia, what do you take me for? Some sort of cad? I would not debauch you here, especially after just promising not to do so yet, in a place little better than workman's shanty! Again, I do believe in some propriety!"

  "Then why are we here, Robert?" Because if not for that, she could see little attraction for the place.

  "For chairs." Picking up the branch of candles, he moved it to the desk and then pointed in the gloomy dark to a spot where she could just barely make out what looked like two badly misused chairs that had seen better days, the caning looking a bit worse for the wear. "These chairs to be precise. They are klismos chairs left over from one of the Greek-themed follies of a few years ago. When the decor style changed, they were given to the dock master here to use for his office as they are supremely comfortable. And perfect for viewing fireworks on the old supply dock. This place fell out of use last Season so we will not be disturbed. But it is perfect, and I am thankful that I am one of the few remaining who know of its charms." Then, without another word, he picked up one of the chairs and moved it outside.

  At first, Lavinia thought that Frost meant to plunge headlong, chair and all, into a clump of bushes, but then she noticed a small path directly to his left. She followed him and after only a few steps, what she had thought was simply more thick shrubbery actually opened up to a wide, low slope of dirt and a dock that jutted out into the Thames itself.

  From here, the glow of the lanterns, both in the pleasure gardens themselves and in the crowded Garden of the Gods, seemed dimmer, as if muted by trees and other foliage, though a soft glow could still be seen over th
e very tops of the tall bushes. She was so busy looking around, attempting to see what Frost did in this peculiar place that she did not notice when he disappeared for a moment and then reappeared with the second chair. And the branch of candles.

  When he gestured for her to sit, she did without complaint. This was not at all what she had expected from him. He was a self-confessed rake. A scoundrel of the worst sort, or so he claimed, though she did not quite believe that as much as she once had. Still, he wished to bed her. Soon. He knew she was amenable. So why did he feel the need to court her as if she was some high-born Society miss?

  "There," he said as he plopped into the chair beside her with a happy sigh. "That is much better."

  Lavinia glanced up at the sky and then out over the open water of the river. "We do have an unobstructed view," she agreed, uncertain of what to say next. "If we are indeed here to view the fireworks, as you said."

  In the near-darkness, Frost reached out to take Lavinia's hand in his. "I know what you expected of me, pet. I noticed that expectation spring into your eyes the very moment you agreed to my proposal back there. You might not have said the words, but you do have marvelously expressive eyes that say all of the words your mouth does not." He sighed. "You expected me to immediately begin to treat you like a doxy, partly because of where you came from and partly because of my reputation. And given the way we left things between us this afternoon, with you likely bruised from some of my more ardent kisses, and coupled with my suggestion of a celebration of sorts, I am certain I gave you cause to doubt my earlier words. You believed I would say one thing and then do another a mere moment later."

  "I had thought you might at least begin to seduce me this evening," she agreed quietly. "After all, Frost, we both know what I am. I cannot change my past, much as I or my grandfather might wish it." She squeezed his fingers lightly. "And we do both desire this. You once said that you do not wish to wait very long to take me to your bed. I am well aware of what you are asking of me."

  "And we shall enjoy each other immensely," Frost promised quickly. "Eventually. But not now. Not tonight. I made you a promise, Lavinia, and I keep my promises. I will not bed you until you are ready. And you are not ready. Yet. But you will be."

  Lavinia mulled over his words for a moment, realizing that she had viewed this entire trip through the darkened gardens through her very jaded eyes. She could not see the beauty that Frost had because she had been unable to see it. She no longer saw the good and purity in things, but rather the dark ugliness. When had she lost all hope? She no longer knew, but it frightened her a little bit and made her wonder if a life as a lady - indeed the life she had been born to - was even truly possible any longer. Frost certainly seemed to believe that it was. However there was a part of her that worried that she had been viewed as a fallen woman for too long to ever truly return to polite society.

  "I am sorry, Robert" Lavinia finally whispered. "The men in my past rarely kept their promises to me. At least not the good sort of promises anyway." She shrugged, a flicker of shadow in the dark, and Frost turned to see her more fully. "I fear that I do not trust many men, and I trust even fewer to do as they promise. It is a consequence of my past and one I do not care for. Again, I am sorry."

  Frost seemed to consider that for a moment. "Do not be sorry. Yes, I desire you, Lavinia. I shan't deny that. And if I truly viewed you as a prostitute, I would have already bedded you. But you are not a lightskirt. You are somewhere in between, a puzzle that I do not quite know how to solve, and part of a netherworld that our society refuses to admit exists at all - women who have been taken advantage of through no fault of their own. So I have decided to proceed slowly, but with an eventual goal in mind - that of our mutual satisfaction." He pulled off his glove and she was surprised when he peeled hers off as well - bare skin to bare skin. "And I vow that I will keep to my promises. All of them."

  "And for tonight?" For a part of her remembered her mother's lover. He, too, had been full of promises. He had been handsome and charming, though without a drop of noble blood, and he had not kept his word even once. Yet she pushed those thought aside and instead concentrated only on Frost and the press of his hot skin against hers.

  "For tonight, I wish to enjoy the fireworks with you in private. I wish to begin our courtship, if that is what you wish to call it. I don't much care for the term seduction, for this is...more." Frost graced her with a wolfish grin. "I did promise you all that and more, did I not? And though I cannot quite court you in public? In private, I can do whatever I please. At the moment, being alone with you while you experience your first true fireworks display is what pleases me. The rest will follow in good time."

  For Lavinia this moment was a true test of her faith in the man sitting across from her, not to mention a test of her belief in humanity. If this man betrayed her in the end, he would not be the first. But he would be the last, for his betrayal would likely shatter her heart so badly that it would stop beating.

  The woman who had spent several weeks within the gilded halls of Lycosura whispered for her to refuse him and run. That woman, the one who had been forced to her knees by a man she had come to loathe, did not believe that any man, not even Frost, could possibly keep his promises.

  However the little girl who had grown up running free at Castle Dunlein for many years, wanted to believe this man who held her hand so gracefully in his. She wanted to believe that this man was different than the rest - in part because she loved him. And had since the first moment he swept into her room and demanded that she lower her skirts. In the end, that part of her, the part that still missed her grandfather and the life she had left behind several years ago, won out.

  "Very well, my lord," Lavinia replied, forcing a teasing note into her tone. "As you wish. I will trust you to keep your promises, and I will remind you that I do not trust easily."

  "I will not hurt you, Lavinia," Frost promised as the first of the fireworks began to explode overhead and he heard her gasp with unfettered delight. "I promise I will not."

  For a long moment, he did nothing but watch the expressions that ranged from sheer joy to complete amazement cross her face, and he wondered, not for the first time, if he was a bit in love with her. And that singular thought brought him up short. No, he was not in love with her. Lust, yes. And desire and a strong bit of like. Love was weakness and he was not weak. He was not his father.

  Then Lavinia laughed in delight and clutched his hand tighter and he forgot his worries for the moment. Instead, there was only the two of them, the only two people in the entire world. If only it could remain that way, he thought, then everything would be just about perfect.

  Chapter Eleven

  "I did not see you during the aerial display last night. Or did your family and I simply miss you in the darkness? It was quite a crush." Rayne delivered both the physical and verbal jabs with equal precision. It was all Frost could do to avoid them and, on the physical level at least, he failed. Quite spectacularly.

  "Lavinia and I were present the entire time," Frost huffed, trying not to let on that the blow the earl had just landed had knocked the breath out of him. "With the masks and the darkness you must have missed us. Too many peach colored gowns." He threw the next punch but it didn't land where he intended, much to his annoyance. It seemed that this morning all of his long hours under the tutelage of Gentleman Jackson was for naught. Then again, as he had been awake since before dawn to meet with Harry again, he was perhaps not at his best.

  Rayne's eyes sparkled with humor and something darker and a bit more dangerous. Something very much like reproach. "Oh, I am well aware of where all the peach gowns were last evening, as I had one on each arm and another within easy viewing distance beside your mother. No, I am certain I did not miss any." He paused to throw another punch and once more, the blow landed perfectly and with perhaps a bit more force than was absolutely necessary. "Thankfully, neither did your mother. She was too busy flirting with Lord Kerston to notice that you and
Lady Lavinia slipped off into the night, thank all that is good."

  Frost let out an "ooff" as Rayne's next blow landed directly to his midsection, again with a great deal of force. The viscount was too stunned by his friend's words to make any attempt at a proper sparring match any longer and instead doubled over in pain, his hands on his knees. Though whether his pain was physical or mental, he could not be certain.

  "Gads, man, did I hurt you that badly?" Rayne dropped his sparring gloves and shook Frost firmly by his shoulders, his momentary pique seemingly forgotten. "What is wrong with you this morning?" Then he shook him again, harder this time, for good measure.

  That second shake did it for suddenly, Frost looked up, blinking, as if he had truly been elsewhere. "My mother? And Kerston?"

  "She could do worse. The earl is extremely wealthy and his own children are grown and well-wed." Rayne quirked a grin once more, back to his usual charming self. "And your mother is still a lovely woman, not to mention younger than either of us truly imagines. It is little wonder she hasn't attempted another match before now. If that is truly what she is doing." He cocked his head. "Then again, what with a son who keeps haring off with a woman he is utterly besotted with, I can't imagine what else she might be doing. Looking out for her future and all of that?"

  "I did not hare off with Lavinia." The denial was automatic as Frost wiped the sweat from his brow and did his best not to acknowledge that many of Rayne's physical blows had caused him more than a little discomfort.

  Rayne reached down to pick up his gloves and then, with a look around the boxing salon, tilted his head back towards a small area off to the side where they might rest for a moment. "You did. And you are still doing what I cautioned you against yesterday." The earl led the way and Frost could do little more than trail mutely behind. Then again, his stomach hurt so bloody much, there was little else he could do. At least not without gasping for breath.