Her Notorious Viscount

by Jenna Petersen

  Very distracting when she should have been focusing on what steps she would have to take in order to turn him back into a gentleman.

  She shivered as the memory of the dark timber of his voice echoed in her ears. One could not deny that the man had an animal magnetism. That fact had probably done him wonders with loose women over the years. But could it truly translate into the kind of charisma impressive enough with the ton that it would erase years of bad behavior and innuendo?

  More information was what she needed.

  Lifting her head, she looked at her employer. As Lady Ridgefield slathered butter onto a piece of lightly toasted bread, she continued a long listing of the personal business of every member of the ton, without drawing breath. When she did finally pause to take a bite of her breakfast, Jane took the opportunity.

  “The gossip must be buzzing about the new Viscount Stoneworth after his appearance at the Glouchester ball.”

  Lady Ridgefield’s brown eyes lit up with excitement. Not the wicked pleasure of some of her friends, who took great joy in reveling in the pain of others. Jane had learned over the past six months that her employer more enjoyed knowing something that others didn’t. In fact, when the gossip she imparted was bad news, she often became forlorn and Jane had to tease her out of her melancholy.

  “Indeed,” Lady Ridgefield answered on a deep sigh. “Nicholas Stoneworth is all the talk, unfortunately little of it is good.”

  Jane shifted. She would have to be careful in her approach. Even with Lady Ridgefield, too much interest would bring attention to her, which was the last thing she desired. If she was to work with Nicholas for their mutual benefit, it had to be in complete secrecy.

  “I was too young to remember him, although I believe I did meet his brother once or twice before I left Society,” Jane said with an affectation of bored interest. “What exactly has the viscount done to deserve such ire? Certainly many men leave Society to see the world, only to return to open arms. Why is Stoneworth so different?”

  “The underground, my dear.” Her employer sighed between bites of toast. “That has made all the difference. You know as well as I do that our Society is separated into very different worlds. Once you desert one for another, it is almost impossible to make the worst of our class forget it.”

  Jane flinched. How well she knew that, indeed. Friends she had been close to since childhood now ignored her, or worse, treated her like she was beneath them because she had been forced to take a position as a lady’s companion. Any illusion Jane had that she could ever return to the place she once held had faded months ago.

  Strangely, she found she didn’t miss the idea of marrying some pompous lord her father chose for her and being paraded around until she birthed a few sons and became less useful. No man who had courted her in the brief years she had been considered a lady had ever come close to capturing her interest, let alone her heart.

  Besides, she could hardly think of her own happiness when Marcus needed her full attention. After she found him, after she helped him return to his rightful place…then she would think about her own future.

  Shaking her head, she cleared her thoughts away. This conversation was not about her, it was about Nicholas Stoneworth.

  “Was he truly in the underground, though?” she pressed, though she knew the answer. One only had to spend five minutes with Nicholas to feel the darkness and danger of his person. “How in the world did the son of a well-respected marquis ever turn to such a place?”

  Lady Ridgefield dabbed her lips with her napkin as she pondered that question. “No one really knows the cause of the marquis and his son’s ultimate breach, at least no one in my circles.”

  Jane stifled a smile. If Lady Ridgefield’s circles knew nothing, then no one did. Those women were like hungry lionesses. Nothing escaped them once they went on the hunt.

  Her employer frowned. “But it seemed to me that the young man and his father always had trouble. While Anthony Stoneworth was everything a father could want in an heir, Nicholas seemed to revel in causing trouble. He was never quite as accepted as his brother to begin with, so when the rumors began that he was going down to dangerous parts of London, participating in questionable activities…I suppose people were almost relieved to have a reason to shun him.”

  Jane’s brow wrinkled. She could well imagine Nicholas, as a twin, must have been somewhat hurt to see his father embrace his brother and dismiss him. And yet, instead of trying to fit into some kind of mold, he had rebelled.

  So he had never really been a gentleman to begin with, at least not in action. Which would likely make her training all the harder.

  “But his family must have tried to keep him from those types of places, to keep him away from danger?” Jane asked.

  She flinched as she thought of her father’s paperwork, which had detailed so much about his desperate attempts to save her brother after Marcus disappeared into his own underground hell.

  Lady Ridgefield laughed. “That boy was never one to heed warnings. In fact, just the opposite. At some point I believe his father found out he was earning a living fighting at some of those underground clubs. They had a row and Nicholas left. They say Stoneworth kept in touch with his brother and perhaps occasionally met with his mother, but he and his father only spoke again because of Anthony’s death.”

  “How tragic,” Jane said softly just as the door opened and a footman entered to discuss something about Lady Ridgefield’s schedule for the day.

  As her employer spoke quietly to the man, Jane shivered. She had been so close to her family, she couldn’t imagine parting ways with them purposefully. Breaking so completely that she didn’t even speak to them. No, she had been torn from her family by death and circumstance.

  How could Nicholas Stoneworth be so cavalier in throwing away his connections in this world? Could a man like that truly be redeemed?

  She shook her head.

  None of those things mattered in this instance. She wasn’t out to make the man a saint, only give him a few reminders about gentlemanly behavior. And until he found her brother, which she was convinced he could do, she had no choice but to do her best with him.

  And hope that her best would somehow be enough.

  Chapter 6

  Nicholas checked the clock, then immediately cursed himself for doing so. It wasn’t the first time that he’d done it. In fact, in the last hour alone he had found his eyes slipping to the timepiece five times. Each time it seemed the minute hand had moved only a few slots.

  Why he was obsessed with the clock, he refused to ponder. Jane had not given him a specific hour that she would come to him tonight. It would all depend upon Lady Ridgefield.

  And yet still he watched, his body coiled and tight. It was not a very different feeling from what he got before a fight, when anxiety made him restless and ready. Only there would be no fighting tonight. At least not the kind he was accustomed to. The kind he thrived on and lived for. The kind he might never be able to participate in again.

  His heart ached dully at the thought. He hadn’t started out fighting to earn a living, rather to survive. When he first began frequenting the underground bars and gambling establishments, he had been a target. Soft, he had reeked of money and privilege, despite his attempts to be rough. But after one particularly bad night, when he managed to fend off three men attempting to rob him in an alley, he had been approached to fight for a purse.

  And everything about him had changed. The more he learned about the game, the more fighting had transformed beyond necessity to art. And he’d become very good at it.

  “My lord?”

  Nicholas shook off his thoughts and turned to glare at his butler. “We have discussed this, Gladwell. I do not wish to be referred to in that manner.”

  His butler’s lips pursed. “Sir, Miss Fenton is here. Shall I show her in?”

  Nicholas straightened up. “Yes. Bring her to me.”

  The servant stifled a sigh and stepped aside. In a breath Ja
ne was standing before him.

  Nicholas couldn’t help but move toward her a step, nor was he unaware of the way she caught her breath when he did so. It was unfortunate that her gown was so plain. A drab muslin that was too big for her slender frame. But he had always had a fine imagination when it came to women, and Nicholas was still aware of the smooth curve of her breasts, the narrow expanse of her hips. He could easily imagine just how lovely she had looked when she wore fine silks and satins.

  “Is there anything you will require?” Gladwell asked, startling Nicholas into reality. He had actually forgotten that his servant was still standing there.

  “No, thank you. I will ring if we do,” Nicholas said with a nod of dismissal. The butler left, but did not shut the door behind him.

  With a roll of his eyes, Nicholas moved forward and did it himself before he turned to Jane with a smile. “He does not approve of our being alone. I assume he believes I’ll be ravishing you tonight.”

  Jane swallowed hard before she moved into the center of the room. “As long as he doesn’t share that belief with anyone who might tell those outside of this household, his misguided thoughts matter very little. There will be no ravishing.”

  Nicholas smiled. “Pity.”

  He expected her to turn or blush or acknowledge his quiet comment, but instead, she continued to look around the room, a finger pressed to her full bottom lip.

  “Hmm. We have much work to be done and I believe we can start much of it here. Later, of course, we shall need use of the dining room. And your ballroom. Do you think that can be arranged?”

  She turned to look at him, and Nicholas stared for a moment before he said, “Of course. If you tell me what you require, my staff will ensure it is done. I am at your beck and call, my lady.”

  He gave her a gallant bow and an audacious wink, but she did not react to either. Instead, she withdrew a small notebook and a small charcoal pencil from the pocket of her ugly gown.

  “Proper address,” she murmured as she scribbled something.

  Nicholas couldn’t help but notice that several of the square sheets were covered with her broad scrawl. He wrinkled his brow.

  “And just what is that?”

  She looked up at him as if she had forgotten his presence entirely. “It is a list of some of the items we will need to cover in your education.”

  She flipped the notebook to its first page and then turned the sheets until she reached her latest entry. Nicholas’s heart sank when he realized there were at least twenty-five entries on her list.

  “Is that all?” he said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable.

  She shrugged as she pocketed the notebook and pencil. “Probably not. I tend to think of a few additions every day. I’m certain I will find more as I come to know you better.”

  Nicholas suddenly wanted a drink, but he forced himself to remain where he was. He watched as Jane took a slow turn around him, examining him from head to toe. Normally such bold scrutiny by a lovely young woman would have been shocking. And this was. Only for a different reason than one might have expected.

  Jane seemed to be sizing him up as she would a pony or a fillet of beef at market. There was nothing blatant in her stare. In fact, she appeared to be unmoved by him in the slightest. No amount of flirtation seemed to make her even aware of him as a man at all, beyond her first unguarded moments when she stepped into the room.

  Despite himself, Nicholas was fascinated by this. This woman was a challenge. An utter riddle, and he found himself wanting to solve it. Find some way to break the protective shell she had put around herself.

  “Well, you are certainly going to look very well once you have some proper clothing,” she said, but it seemed she required no answer. “However, it is often not the clothing that makes a man, but how he wears it. If you stagger or lumber about like a giant, your fine accoutrements will do you no good.”

  “Do you require my participation in this conversation at all?” Nicholas asked, folding his arms across his chest.

  She frowned. “Of course. I require your participation in every aspect of our time together, otherwise we won’t get far at all. Now then, I would like to see how you move.”

  Nicholas felt his eyebrows knit together in surprise. “I beg your pardon?”

  She looked at him as if he was quite daft. “Please walk about the room, like you would do normally. Try not to think about what you are doing or that you are being watched. Be as un-practiced as possible.”

  Nicholas stared. Well, this was the very end. He had never experienced a woman like this. When he made his offer to her, he hadn’t thought that she would take her charge so seriously that she forced herself to tamp down and forget all the attraction between them.

  It seemed his duty to remind her. If only to see her cheeks flush.

  “But my dear,” he drawled. “How should I walk?”

  “As I said, just move as you would normally,” she repeated, again looking at him as if he were not intelligent in the least.

  “But you see, a man walks differently in various situations. If I am in an unfamiliar surrounding, where I’m not certain if I’m in danger, I might be cautious.”

  He turned away and demonstrated what he meant, his shoulders back so he looked as big as possible, his fists at the ready, his eyes flitting to every corner in a subtle analysis of his surroundings.

  “Or if I were relaxed, comfortable, amongst friends, I might move quite differently.” He changed his gait, relaxing his shoulders, slowing his steps.

  Then he turned back to her. She was staring at him, her expression unreadable. “Or would you prefer I walk like I would while pursuing a woman?”

  He stepped toward her in a few long strides, possessive. Feral. Slowly, he inched around her as she had done earlier, but while her examination of his form had been clinical, this was something entirely different. He moved in close, almost touching her, but not quite. He circled her frame like a cat, stalking and inviting. Making it clear with every step that he could claim her any time he desired to do so.

  When he moved to stand before her again, she looked up at him. Her bottom lip trembled ever so slightly and her eyes had become a fraction glazed. Her throat worked as she swallowed.

  There it was. Nicholas could have crowed. He could move her. Remind her that he was a man, after all.

  “You have grace,” she said softly, when a long moment of silence had passed between them. “Perhaps you are not a lost cause after all, my lord.”

  Nicholas froze. He had been “my lorded” twice that night. Both times, the address had cut him. His eyes shut, and he worked to block out thoughts of Anthony. Thoughts of the gravity of his situation.

  When he opened them again, he found that Jane’s expression had changed as well. The desire he had inspired still lingered in the background, but something far more potent had come to the forefront.

  Pity.

  And he had to wipe that away.

  “Oh my dear, I am a lost cause. Trust in that,” he said, his voice rough.

  He reached for her without realizing he intended to do so. She stumbled forward in surprise at his sudden movement, falling against his chest, and his arms came around her, almost of their own volition. She was warm, fragile, and he felt her heart fluttering with a wild beat against his own. Her face tilted up and he couldn’t help himself. Couldn’t stop himself.

  He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers.

  She tasted like tea with honey, sweet and rich. And while her lips pursed together in surprise, they were still soft as satin and smooth against his own. He increased the pressure of his mouth, coaxing and demanding a response even though his rational mind told him to stop. That by doing this, he was threatening their bargain and his own promises to change.

  But he couldn’t listen to that voice. Kissing her had been as much a surprise to him as it was to her, but now that he was doing it, he wanted more.

  Her lips relaxed beneath his, and her hands, which ha
d been balled into fists at her sides, slowly lifted to his forearms. He realized that was all the invitation he would likely get. He parted his lips and gently traced the crease of her mouth with the tip of his tongue. She gasped, and he took that moment of weakness, tasting her, savoring her flavor like a man starved.

  Her fingers bunched against the linen fabric of his shirt, and her heart rate increased. He felt her fighting, not him, but her own desires. Yet she didn’t pull away. Couldn’t pull away. That was a triumph, but it was nothing compared to when she hesitantly let her tongue touch his.

  An explosion of lust so powerful that it took him off guard made him pull her closer. He crushed her to his chest, desire driving him to arch against her, to lose finesse in trade for pure, unadulterated need.

  This was not a feeling he’d had with many women. This excitement so wild and passion-ate that it threatened to rage out of control in a moment. It was heady and powerful.

  But suddenly Jane stiffened and shoved against his chest, rending herself from his arms with a fierce cry. She backed away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand as she stared at him as if he were a beast free of his cage.

  “If this is how you intend to behave, your grace will be of little help to you,” she snapped, her voice trembling like her limbs and her skin hot pink, but not with arousal.

  Nicholas recognized, as he stared at her, that she was angry. Offended. Even though she had reacted to him, allowed him the liberty of her kiss for a moment, now she wanted nothing to do with it or him.

  She pulled at her gown to straighten it, although he had done nothing to mar it. Likely that would have changed within the span of five minutes if she hadn’t broken away. She glared at him with all the censure and haughtiness of the highest duchess in the Empire.