From the Viscount With Love

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  At first, Frost had hoped to put them both up in a hotel, but given that the end of the Season was approaching and the majority of the country residents were in Town for the last of the grand parties, most of the available rooms were already taken. Much to his annoyance. That left Frost no choice but to put the both of them up at Chillton House. Thankfully, his mother had only berated him a small bit over the matter. Given everything else that had gone on as of late, he had not wished to endure one of her more thorough tongue-lashings.

  Now his mother sat silently on the far side of the drawing room, neither smiling nor precisely frowning either. In fact, Frost did rather wish he knew what she was thinking. Instead she sat there like a statue, having only been animated when Lord Hunt had arrived at an ungodly early hour to check on Aurelia. For once, Frost could not even muster up the necessary anger over that transgression. He was simply too relieved that everyone was safe.

  Finally, as the silence seemed to stretch into eternity, Lavinia straightened her spine and looked up, daring to meet her grandfather's icy blue gaze, one so very much like her own. "I take it Lord Chillton contacted you then." She turned to glare at Frost. "I had thought I was being more discreet."

  "The boy's not idiot," her grandfather snapped. "Only so many lost heiresses running around England."

  "We were worried about you, Lea." Lady Galeton's voice was barely above a whisper and Frost could see Lavinia pale when her mother spoke. "I know that much has passed between us and we, your grandfather and I, are largely to blame, but we are all here now. Surely that should count for something." The older woman drew in a deep breath, as if merely taking in air was a struggle. Perhaps it was. "And I am so very sorry. More sorry than you could ever know. I failed you, my daughter. I know that now."

  For a moment, Frost thought that Lavinia might turn her back on her mother and certainly, the older woman likely deserved it. To not protect one's family? One's own child? To take them away from their home to live with a man who would debauch them? It boggled the mind.

  Then, Lady Galeton turned her head slightly and where her hair was swept up into a loose chignon, he could see three jagged scars that ran from below her right ear up to her hair line where they vanished beneath the still sable-brown tresses. That, coupled with the fact that the woman always presented her left side to whoever was speaking to her, told Frost all he needed to know about the woman's harsh life. And he felt a sharp stab of sympathy for Lady Galeton. If not for his father's early death, that very well might have been his own mother.

  Lady Galeton had obviously been beaten, likely by her husband, and now could not hear in her right ear. It was common among the prostitutes that populated the brothels of London, and Frost had seen this particular horror many times over, so he immediately recognized the signs. However, it had not really occurred to him that women in his station of life suffered the same indignities as the lower classes. But given his own childhood, perhaps he should have. It was little wonder that Lady Galeton had preferred the charming advances of Michel Balon to those of her husband. In that moment, Frost could not quite forgive Lavinia's mother for her actions, but he did understand them. He prayed Lavinia could do the same.

  Frost was gratified when the tightness in Lavinia's jaw relaxed a bit, also obviously noticing the scars and what they meant. He wanted this for her - whatever this was. He did not expect complete absolution and forgiveness, though he could hope. What he wished for was a start. For he feared that if Lavinia was never properly acknowledged for who she truly was, her past would continue to haunt her. And him.

  For he had decided that there would likely never be a woman in the world more suited to him than Lavinia Tremont. She was that same peculiar mix of tradition and rebellion as he. Two sides of the same coin. She was his match. And, if she would have him, he would make her his viscountess. But in order for any of that to happen, she had to come to terms with her past. And be ready to move on with her life.

  Lavinia had somehow, without even trying, taught him not to fear love. It had happened when he hadn't even been paying attention. The least he owed her for such a monumental change was this possible reunion.

  "I know, Mama." Lavinia's voice was equally as soft, and, as Frost expected, she moved around to her mother's left side so that she might speak into that ear. Kneeling on the floor beside her mother, Frost could see where Lavinia had inherited her looks. "And I am at fault as well. I did not even attempt to see your side of things. Perhaps if we had spoken..."

  "But that's all in the past. Time to move on." Those gruff words came from Lord Annandell. "We need to put this family back together again. Before it's too late."

  Frost knew from Harry that the duke was ill. Heart, most likely, though no one outside of his most intimate circle was certain. As for Lady Galeton? She still suffered symptoms of withdrawal on occasion, having been under the influence of laudanum for so long. Yes, there was still much work to be done with this family. The important part was that it could be done. But only if all three of them wished it so.

  Lavinia rose from her position beside her mother and moved to her grandfather's side. "I agree." She leaned over and took the old man's hands in hers before giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "We cannot go back. But I would like very much if we would go forward. With perhaps a bit more understanding and a touch more listening to each other rather than railing in anger."

  The duke made a grumbling noise, but he did not seem all that unhappy with Lavinia's words. In fact, Frost thought he might have even seen a tear in the old man's eyes. This was not a joyous or boisterous family, but he could tell that their emotional bonds ran deep. They were simply not showy about their feelings. But those feelings were there all the same. In that moment, Frost felt something ease inside of him. He had done the right thing. For family. For love. And for himself as well, though for once in his life, his own needs were among the last in consideration.

  "I would like that as well," the duke gruffly admitted. "A new start then."

  Everyone in the room was surprised when Lavinia rose and threw her arms around her grandfather's neck in a tight hug. They were even more shocked when the old man hugged her back. Frost was beyond belief when he saw Lady Galeton rise on shaky legs to join the rest of her family on the settee for the impromptu show of physical affection.

  The reunion was broken up only when an invitation to adjourn to the breakfast room was made by Frost's mother who had said surprisingly little during the entire reunion in the drawing room. As the others followed Claxton to the breakfast room, Lady Chillton placed a hand on her son's arm.

  "A word, darling?" she asked as Lavinia and her family joined Frost's sisters - who had, of course been listening in the hall - in traipsing through the house in search of food. When Aurelia took Lord Annandell's arm, Frost could even swear he heard Lavinia laugh in that low and sultry way of hers.

  When they were gone, Frost turned to his mother. "You disapprove of my actions."

  Instead of chastising him, the viscountess shook her head. "On the contrary. I believe you are finally seeing things clearly, just as I have all along. I am only warning you not to make a mess of what yet remains to be done."

  "I have no idea what you are talking about." Truly he didn't.

  "Lavinia has regained her family, but there is still gossip to manage." Then she gave him a sly smile. "Though thankfully the Haverfields are in fact distantly related to the Tremonts. Something about a third cousin marrying a Tremont second son somewhere along the line and forgetting to inform the rest of the family."

  Just then, a realization dawned on Frost. "You knew. Didn't you? You knew who Lavinia was from the moment she appeared in my study. That was why you insisted she remain here instead of being sent...elsewhere." One did not speak of one's love nest with one's mother. At least not if one could help it.

  "Once I saw her up close that first morning, I suspected. Her looks are rather distinctive." Lady Chillton was utterly unapologetic. "Rumors of the lost Trem
ont heiress have been circulating among my friends for years. You would not have heard them of course, for your tastes, at least until recently, did not run to the proper discussions of drawing rooms. When I saw the young lady and then noticed those distinctive eyes? Well, I could not be certain, mind you, but I did strongly suspect. That is why I have the delightful Mr. Greer in my employ."

  "Harry works for you, too?" Frost could not believe it. He thought his friend would not mix family business in that manner.

  Lady Chillton laughed. "Why do you think I did not object when you asked him to watch over Dory? I would hardly countenance such a thing from one of your friends, after all. Or at least not most of them. But I have known Mr. Greer a good deal longer than you have, my darling. And when I asked him to look into Lady Lavinia, he was only too happy to oblige."

  That was also how Harry had found both her grandfather and her mother so quickly. Frost's information had not been enough on its own, but whatever his mother had already gleaned from drawing room teas had been. It boggled the mind, really. It also gave him a great deal of insight as to where his own penchant for such things came from.

  "Mama, you amaze me," Frost sighed with a peck on her cheek. "Truly."

  "I like to keep my family on their toes," she replied with a sunny smile. "And Robert? One last thing?"

  He nodded, knowing his mother would say her peace whether he wished her to or not. "Yes?"

  "Just so you know, I am well aware of what goes on beneath this roof." She raised an eyebrow at him. "You are not nearly so sneaky as you might wish. Also, the floors creak. Badly."

  Frost reddened. So she had heard Lavinia in his room. That had not been his intention. "I am...sorry?" Did one apologize to one's mother for that sort of thing? He supposed a dutiful son might. One who was attempting to change his rakehell ways.

  "I will expect you to do the right thing where Lady Lavinia is concerned. Do I make myself clear?" Though she said the words with a kind smile, Frost had no doubt that she meant every one of them. "And do not take too long about it, either. I believe the duke might like to see a great-grandchild before it is too late."

  There was a part of Frost that wished the floor would open up beneath him and swallow him whole. "I will...see what I can do about that."

  "See that you do." With that, his mother turned and walked off down the hall towards the breakfast room leaving Frost to stare after her in amazement.

  Frost had planned to surprise Lavinia with her family. And he had. He had not expected that his mother had her own surprises in store for him as well. That was, he thought, just one more reason why he loved his family above all else. And soon, that family would have another member. He hoped. If Lavinia would have him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Town Tattler

  I do not wish to crow my dear readers, but on this fine morning of the just-announced Grand Ball hosted by Viscountess Chillton, I feel I can pat myself on the back just a little. Did I not predict an announcement regarding Lady Lavinia Haverfield - or should I now call her Lady Lavinia Tremont - and her bloodlines? I believe that I did. I also believe that I said it would not be so much scandalous as it is gossip-worthy. And it is precisely that. Exactly as I predicted.

  Lady Lavinia is the long-lost heiress granddaughter of the Duke of Annandell. Daughter of the late Lord Galeton and his wife, Lady Augusta Galeton, who, I am happy to report, seems to be making a slow but steady recovery after years of ill health. Not that anyone knew of her condition, for the family certainly did its best to conceal the fact, for which I cannot fault them. Now, however, they are all in Town and the guests of honor at Lady Chillton's - who is in fact distantly related to the Tremont family after some cousin ran off with some second son or other such nonsense - ball this evening. I am told the event will be one for the ages and I am certain that many of London's best hostesses will be positively green with envy when the full details come out tomorrow.

  And as for Lord Chillton, the current viscount who is still in search of a wife? I am told that his days of gadding about London as one of our leading rakehells might finally be drawing to a close. I have it on very good authority that a woman has finally caught his eye and in the process snagged his heart. Any guesses as to who the lucky lady might be? I am certain all of you out there have a few. Or at least one in particular.

  -Madame C

  It had been three days since that shocking morning in Frost's drawing room and Lavinia had not had a chance to speak to him alone even once. She had also not had a chance to sneak into his bedchambers at night again, much to her annoyance. The very evening her family had appeared, they had all been moved to the guest wing of Chillton House - which was down a different hallway and at the complete opposite end of the house from Frost's chambers. That made sneaking into his bed all but impossible.

  As she suspected had been well planned by her family and Frost's mother.

  All of the proprieties would be observed now that the duke was in residence. Especially now that the duke was in residence.

  So as she stood at the top of the stairs waiting to make her grand entrance to the ball below, Lavinia could not help but wish for the time before her family had arrived. While she was thrilled to see them and felt such relief at immediately being welcomed back into their arms with no real questions asked, she also missed Frost. Very, very much.

  Oh, she had seen him about, of course. After all, this was his house and he could hardly be avoided. However much of her days had been taken up with her family. That had included discussing the past, though she had made it a point to gloss over her time at Lycosura, and only briefly mentioned that Balon was now in Newgate thanks to the hard work of Harry Greer and the other men of Bow Street.

  What little time remained had been occupied by dress fittings and shopping, since both Lady Chillton and Lady Galeton had insisted that since the upcoming ball was to mark Lavinia's official reemergence into Society, she needed a new and utterly unique gown. And jewels. And slippers. And a new reticule and fan. Oh, and an all-new wardrobe as well since she was now to be acknowledged as the granddaughter of a duke. An heiress such as she did not go around in sample clothing, not even from Madame LaVallier's. Everything must be custom made.

  Lavinia was now also the toast of London, seemingly overnight. In fact, that very afternoon, Claxton had turned away at least a dozen young men who had come to call upon her - most likely after news of her newly announced status and her rather sizable dowry had reached their ears. She also knew it still baffled many in Society that Lord Hunt - who everyone knew to be in desperate need of a rich wife - as well as Lord Raynecourt and Harry Greer were admitted freely, while other men of much better character and higher titles were not.

  Lavinia also found it humorous that no one seemed to understand that there were three other young ladies in residence at Chillton House as well, and that they had callers too. It was not all about Lavinia.

  Not that Lavinia would have received those other men anyway. Just as before, the only man she had eyes for was Frost. And she had not seen him at all that day. Not even a passing glance in the breakfast room, for he had been long gone by the time she came downstairs that morning. She had not liked that particular bit of news when Claxton had informed her that the viscount would also not return until shortly before the ball. And even then, likely only in time to bathe and dress for the evening.

  So now Lavinia stood at the top of this dratted staircase feeling nothing but nervous and wishing with all of her might that the only man she cared to see would suddenly appear before her eyes. But he would not. And there was a part of Lavinia that wondered if he would ever appear before her like that again.

  The last night they had spent together, Frost had spoken of love and marriage. But not since. Had he changed his mind? Did he not wish to marry her now that he knew the truth? Then again, he had implied that night that he already knew the truth of her. If that was the case, then what had changed? Was it her dowry? If that was the reason, she w
ould gladly tell her grandfather to keep his money. She would rather have Frost than a marriage portion so disgustingly huge that it made the man she loved uncomfortable.

  Or perhaps Frost had finally come to the realization that, duke's granddaughter or not, Lavinia was still a scandal waiting to happen. Other men of Society had passed through the doors of Lycosura. Though she had been masked, it was entirely possible that someone might recognize her. If they did, her secrets would be exposed and she would be shamed. Frost had his own family to consider and three sisters likely on the verge of making matches of their own. Perhaps he did not wish to endanger them and she could not blame him in the least.

  For all of Frost's kind words, there was still a part of Lavinia that wondered if she could ever truly put her past to rest. Yes, she had her family back and they had agreed to move forward into a new life and a new sort of relationship. But would the past ever truly be buried? She rather doubted it.

  Drawing in a deep breath, she took the stairs one at a time, careful not to trip as the gown was rather elaborate and, though she was assured that it was in the absolute first stare of fashion, it was far too overdone for her taste. Then again, her mother and Lady Chillton had selected the design. Lavinia had not been given a voice. At least not in this gown. Thankfully, she had been able to select everything else to her tastes, but this gown for this specific ball? No, she had not been given a say, much to her continued annoyance.

  Still, it was a beautiful gown, done in so many shades of blue that Lavinia could not count them all - everything from the palest of icy blues to the deepest shades of midnight. The colors swirled together in an ombré effect, creating a gown that seemed to float around her as she moved, complete with all of the colors of the ocean. Small crystals were stitched all over the bodice and then down the length of the gown like a trail of stars until they fanned out over the left side in a shimmering shower that, Lavinia had to admit, looked delightfully magical when she moved. In a nod to the summer heat, the gown featured small, capped sleeves and a bodice cut so low that it might very well be indecent in a more public setting.