Claimed By Chaos

by Abigail Graves

  “He was very cruel to keep himself hidden away all these years.” Lady Wembley sighed as her eyes clung to Alastair. Mirabelle felt heat flood her face. Her fingers curled into a fist and she turned.

  “Lady Wembley, if you don’t take yourself away from me this instant, I will rip every hair out of your head.” She warned. Lady Wembley took off. The women around her cleared as well.

  I probably shouldn’t have done that. Mirabelle admitted to herself. She shrugged as she made her way to The Mothers. They were staring at the dance floor in shock. She turned and her jaw fell.

  Alastair was leading Giselle around the floor and creating a bit of a scene. He was holding her too close and she was under his spell.

  “Look at him!” Madeline gasped. Maman blinked rapidly. Mirabelle was afraid her eyes would dry in their sockets. Alastair’s lips were pressed to Giselle’s ear, his eyes were hooded and his smile was sensual as he whispered something to her. His hand had slid indecently low and was splayed as he pressed her to him. “Oh, my!” Madeline said as his head lowered and his lips appeared to brush Giselle’s neck.

  “I had no idea he was such a…” Maman looked like she needed a seat. Mirabelle frowned.

  “Rake?” She said. Maman and Madeline nodded. Mirabelle’s eyes swept the room. Most people were too surprised to whisper behind hands and fans. Her eyes narrowed as she looked back at the dance floor. Alastair wouldn’t have been more obvious if he had raised his leg and peed on Giselle. She crossed her arms and snorted.

  “She’ll be pregnant if this waltz doesn’t end soon.” Mirabelle said under her breath. Maman swatted her.

  “He’s very… arresting. See how the women look at him!” Maman whispered. Mirabelle felt as she did at Winthorpe. Once again, her brother seemed a stranger and she wondered what else she didn’t know about him. What else would he do to surprise them and would it be something good?

  Out of the corner of her eye, Mirabelle spotted Lord Weering. She slowly turned and carefully studied him. He was watching the dance floor. She had a feeling she knew what had his interest. He appeared to be considering, calculating before he sneered and turned away. Mirabelle smiled. He had no idea what he was up against.

  By the time their party departed, Mirabelle was at the end of her patience. Nearly as many people were interested in making Alastair’s acquaintance as Giselle’s. The only difference was that it was only women that wanted to be introduced to Alastair and many of them were married and notoriously wanton.

  Chapter 50

  “Is it just me, or is that butler peculiar?” Giselle whispered while Weering took his hat and cane as he passed through the front doors and ducked into his carriage. Alastair shrugged.

  “Only if you find a butler that has trees for hands and looks as if he eats children whole peculiar.” He said softly and pulled down the shade as Weering passed them.

  They had begun spending an hour a day, at various times of the day, watching Weering’s home. Sometimes, they were on foot, strolling and teasing each other under her parasol. Once a week, they escorted Mirabelle when she visited his neighbor, Lady Gasden and took turns watching through windows. Other days, Alastair instructed his driver to make multiple passes and to stop at different points along the street each time.

  “The footmen are unusual as well.” Alastair mused as he sat back. Giselle nodded.

  “Do you think he’s worried about his own security or something in the house?” She asked. He peeked behind the shade.

  “For our sake, I hope he’s hired thugs to guard his home because he’s got a trove of incriminating documents. I’ve discussed our investigation with my superiors. They were resistant at first, but they agree that he needs to be punished for his crimes. I think they are leaning toward avoiding a public trial.” Alastair reached up and pounded on the roof, signaling that they were finished for the day. The carriage set off and Giselle pushed from the seat and dropped onto his lap. He growled in approval as he set her knees on the bench on either side of his thighs and pulled her close. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself against him.

  “If no trial, what then? Will they want him killed?” Giselle waited until his body relaxed before she lowered her lips to his. He shook his head, letting his lips slide back and forth against hers as his hands closed around her bottom.

  “I think that will depend on what we find. Their first inclination will be to transport him. If it can’t be avoided, I don’t believe they would be too disappointed if he ended up dead.” Alastair murmured the words against her lips as his hands slid under her skirts. Giselle’s mind was no longer on Weering or the War Office.

  “Do you think we have time?” She gasped as she felt his fingers stroking between her thighs. She felt his lips curve against hers as she shut her eyes.

  “That depends on what you have in mind, my love.” Alastair whispered as his lips skated along her jaw. “The distance to Spencer Place isn’t enough for both of us to find our release but I think there's just enough time for me to make you come.” She felt the words against her throat as his fingers pressed deep into her aching core. Giselle bit her lip to keep from moaning. I love his hands. She thought as he pinched her nipple through the layers of her clothing.

  Several minutes later, Giselle gratefully accepted Alastair’s hand as she stepped from the carriage. Her legs were still shaking and her breathing had yet to recover. As Alastair had predicted, he brought her to a shattering climax moments before the carriage rocked to a halt. He’d deposited her on the seat across from his and sat back just before a footman pulled the door open.

  “I need to go upstairs for a moment.” Giselle mumbled once they were in the hall. Alastair grinned rakishly.

  “Take your time, I’ll be in the library.” He said as she made her way to the stairs. “Would you like me to have Bennings deliver a tray? Perhaps some wine?” His voice was teasing. She shrugged and waved absently as she turned down the hall.

  “Whatever you like.” Giselle sighed as she pushed her door open. She shook her head. He probably couldn't hear her.

  She sat on the stool and stared into the mirror. It took several moments for her to actually see herself. She scowled at her reflection. Her lips were swollen and red and her hair was slightly mussed but it was the dazed expression that made her frown.

  “It’s like your brain just melts.” Giselle grumbled at the woman in front of her as she pulled the pins from her hair. It’s pathetic, really. She agreed. “You have got to get a hold of yourself!” She demanded as she pulled the brush through her hair angrily and then started twisting it into a tight bun. I absolutely do. “And you’d do well to stay focused on your priorities and stopped acting like such a wanton.” She scolded under her breath. Giselle paused as she blinked at herself. Do you even know what your priorities are anymore? She growled in frustration as she stabbed pins into her hair and then jumped to her feet.

  She shook her head defiantly as she swept from the room. You’re not a child. Stop being weak and get back to work. Giselle nodded as she marched down the stairs. It was time they planned their next move, they needed to search Weering’s home after Mirabelle’s ball. She raised her head and pulled her shoulders back as she entered the library to inform Alastair.

  Chapter 51

  Clerendon House was the worst crush of The Season. Giselle had to admit, Mirabelle might be a puckish hoyden at times but she knew how to dazzle the ton. The ballroom was a fantasy. She had never seen so many flower and candles. Or so much champagne. Mirabelle was a vision as well. Dressed in emerald green silk with a sheer gold overlay, Lucien paid little attention to the guests as they welcomed them.

  Giselle considered her own gown, she had chosen something a little more daring. The form fitting silver silk with blue embroidery had a high collar and a plunging neckline. Her hair had been loosely swept up and a few curls tickled at the nape of her neck. She was determined to make a statement: Alastair deserved a confident, sensual and elegant woman on
his arm. The boring, bored, common women that Giselle had encountered during her weeks in the ton’s ballroom would never do and she wanted them to see that.

  What does that leave him with if I don’t marry him? She asked herself. She frowned and pushed the thought away. Her thoughts on marriage to Alastair had shifted from what damage she could to do him to the harm not marrying him would cause. To the both of them. She was wary, though. It felt as if she was starting to think selfishly. Giselle could no longer deny that she wanted to marry Alastair, more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. She was afraid her mind was trying to justify taking something she didn’t deserve.

  “I’ve had to convince myself that pulling you through these doors and ravishing you in the garden is unacceptable.” Giselle shivered as she felt Alastair’s words against her ear. She turned and found him standing behind her. She’d taken refuge by the French doors to escape the stifling heat but he’d gone and set her ablaze. She was tempted to ask him to reconsider as she stared up at him.

  Dressed in a black tailcoat and trousers and a white waistcoat, all expertly tailored to show off his sleek, athletic frame, Alastair looked refined yet powerful. Giselle knew that she wasn’t the only woman that felt lightheaded in his presence. As her eyes scanned the room, women fanned themselves and stared openly, their eyes appreciating and coveting what was hers. She set her hand upon his sleeve and he rested his hand upon hers.

  “Let’s walk.” Giselle said as she smiled knowingly at the women around them. Alastair nodded as he steered them toward the orchestra.

  The evening was already a success. Giselle and Alastair vaguely accepted numerous congratulations and dismissed inquiries. Weering was present and had watched Giselle from a distance and approached her briefly while Alastair had gone for refreshments. Weering relayed his fervent hopes that Giselle would be attending his ball and that she would save him a waltz as all of hers had already been claimed for the evening. She nodded enthusiastically and promised she was looking forward to his ball and their waltz.

  As they approached the orchestra, the dance floor cleared and Lucien stepped forward. Giselle hid her shock when she saw that the family was with him, including Gilles and Elise. Giselle knew Elise was attending briefly but she had missed her entrance. The room bubbled with hushed excitement at Elise’s presence as she was so rarely seen by most of the ton. Lucien gestured for Giselle and Alastair to join them as footmen passed out flutes of champagne. Once everyone was in place and the room was quiet, Lucien addressed the room.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, it is once again a joyous honor to welcome you to Clerendon House.” He looked around and smiled warmly. “I have been blessed with many things but my family is what I treasure most.” Lucien’s gaze swept the family and finally settled on Giselle.

  “But all that money doesn't hurt!” Some drunkard yelled from the back. A laugh swept the crowd. Lucien grinned roguishly and nodded.

  “No. It doesn’t hurt. But I know many men who have more money than they could ever spend yet have never known true love and the unconditional support of a family. I could lose everything I have tomorrow and it would be uncomfortable but I wouldn’t want to live without the people around me. There is nothing I could buy that would give the joy that breakfast at Spencer Place or a day with my wife provides.” Lucien turned and winked at Mirabelle and she blushed before he gestured toward Giselle. “Which brings me to Lady St. Claire. To many of you, she is a beautiful rarity. To us, she is a cherished member of our family. She is intelligent, kind and funny and we would be incomplete without her.”

  Giselle smiled despite the dizziness that washed over her. Dread filled her as she anticipated Lucien’s next words. They had agreed that there would be nor formal announcement and she hadn’t been expecting a speech. Now, the whole room was focused on the two of them, holding its collective breath to hear him announce the engagement. Her legs started to shake and Alastair stepped closer. As if he sensed her struggling, his hand spread across her lower back for support.

  “Relax.” He whispered. Giselle looked at him and for a moment the room fell away. She nodded slowly as she filled her lungs and her body cooled and her legs felt solid again. She looked back at Lucien.

  “It has been a great pleasure to introduce you all to Lady St. Claire and we ask that you all raise your glasses in welcome and celebration.” Lucien announced as he raised his glass. The room erupted in cheers and everyone toasted Giselle.

  “Raise your glass, my love.” Alastair said softly. As soon as she did another chorus of cheers filled the air and the orchestra started the opening strains of a waltz. “This is my dance, I believe.” He smiled as he took her glass and passed it to a footman.

  The dance floor remained empty and the crowd watched rabidly as Alastair led her to the center and bowed. Once he was twirling her about the floor and other couples started to join them, Giselle let her mind consider Lucien’s speech. Instead of feeling relieved that he hadn’t mentioned their engagement, she was still in turmoil. He had used the speech as an opportunity to persuade her to marry Alastair. His pointing out how precious family was and the joy it provided was a not so subtle warning to Giselle that she had a lot to lose if she left. Mentioning that they cherished her and would be incomplete was downright emotional blackmail. Giselle narrowed her eyes at Lucien as he swept past with Mirabelle.

  “You’re displeased with Lucien?” Alastair’s lips caressed her ears and she felt warmth wash over her. She looked up at him. His lips were so close, his everything was so close. The Mothers were probably cursing him. She smiled as she shrugged.

  “He did give me a bit of a scare and he wasn’t exactly subtle.” Giselle murmured. They went through a turn and Alastair’s thigh parted hers as his hand pulled her close. She felt herself become heavy and slick between her legs. She looked up at him as she tried not to pant. His head dipped and his lips caressed her neck.

  “I’m not feeling very subtle.” His voice was low and warm. “If there was any way I could get away with it, we would be someplace quiet and I’d be buried deep inside of you.” Alastair’s hand brushed against Giselle’s bottom and she stumbled. He pulled her closer, covering her misstep as he smirked down at her. She blinked rapidly.

  “Yes, please?” She whispered. What else could she say to that? He laughed softly.

  “Unfortunately, there’s no way we could leave without being seen and our absence would be noticed by just about everyone.” He sighed as they revolved through the last turn. She felt it against her skin and her lips twisted in a pout. There would be no time once the ball was over. Alastair shrugged before sweeping to a flourishing halt. Giselle tried to appear calm and happy as she took his arm. “We may as well make the best of it.” He whispered as he led her from the dance floor. “Who is the most ridiculous person you have encountered this evening?” His face remained flat as he scanned the room. Giselle couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled from her throat as she leaned close. People craned their necks and stared. She ignored them as she tried to decide.

  “I’m torn between Lord Whimple and Lady Linscott.” Giselle offered as they perused the crowd. Alastair nodded as if she had just told him the most serious of all State secrets.

  “I might lean toward Lord Whimple if I wasn’t already considering Sir Godfrey Grimpert.” He replied as he discreetly pointed at a wiry, weasel of a man that had just slid drunkenly down a wall. Giselle covered her mouth to catch the laugh that nearly burst from her. A moment later, a rotund, furious mound of woman bustled up and attempted to pull him to his feet.

  “He might be our winner!” Giselle gasped.

  The rest of the evening proved to be far more amusing than Giselle had expected. By the time she was finally able to slip into her bed, her face hurt. She had never laughed and smiled so much in one evening. Alastair had taken what could have been a trying and tedious evening and made it one of the most enjoyable she could remember.

  Chapter 52

  A few eve
nings later, Giselle was wary. Alastair had been surprisingly agreeable and was letting her lead them. At the moment, she was waiting for Weering to greet her and Mirabelle as they entered his ballroom. Alastair agreed to arrive later, after most of the other guests had arrived to give Weering an opportunity to approach Giselle.

  “Lady St. Claire! I’m honored to welcome you to my home.” Weering drawled as he bowed over Giselle’s hand. She had to admit, he could be charming. He looked around and smiled as he raised his head. “It seems you are without your usual escort.” Giselle smiled and shrugged nonchalantly.

  “I’m certain he will turn up.” She made her expression soft and held his gaze. He grinned and leaned forward.

  “Then I shall have to take advantage and steal a dance before he does, my lady.” He teased. His demeanor was gently flirtatious and playful. She giggled and looked down as if she was bashful.

  “You can’t steal something if it is given, my lord.” Giselle said softly. Mirabelle turned and pretended to object.

  “We should move along, Lady St. Claire.” Mirabelle scolded. Weering bowed to Mirabelle and took her hand.

  “Welcome to my home, Your Grace. You are as lovely as ever.” Weering murmured. Mirabelle smiled softly.

  “Thank you, Lord Weering.” She curtsied and grabbed Giselle by the arm and made a show of tugging her into the ballroom.

  Once they were far enough away, Mirabelle leaned close.

  “That scoundrel! I bet those poor young wives of his never saw him coming.” She hissed. Giselle nodded as she scanned the doors and windows around the room.

  “Destroying him will be a pleasure.” She whispered as she smiled vaguely in greeting at the people they passed.

  It was curious, the number of people that described themselves as “a close friend” of her mother or father. Everyone was so “friendly” yet almost no one recalled either of her parents’ names. Giselle had noticed that as the ton became more convinced of the imminence of the announcement of her and Alastair’s engagement, interest and attention had begun to wane. The younger set was beginning to find more titillating targets and most of the marriage minded gentleman had moved on. Only the more confidant and mature eligible gentlemen, like Weering, were still interested. The older generations were still watching as were those that had social and political aspirations but for the most part, the furor had died down.