Capturing the Viscount (Rakes and Roses Book 1)

by Win Hollows

  CAPTURING THE VISCOUNT

  BY

  WIN HOLLOWS

  BOOK ONE OF

  THE RAKES AND ROSES SERIES

  2017

  This book is dedicated to my husband, Morgan. Falling in love with you was the best thing I ever tried not to do.

  Capturing the Viscount

  Copyright © 2017 by Win Hollows

  All Rights Reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Prologue

  Remmy didn't know how long he had been lying under the fallen log, but he had stopped hoping for someone to find him for some time. No one would be out looking for him in this storm when they thought he was safe in his bed, especially with the lightning and thunder that crashed all around the estate with such force. No one would risk catching cold by going out in the torrential downpour that threatened to cause the nearby river to overflow its banks and take with it anyone who ventured too close.

  And little Remington Rothstone was much too close on this night.

  He hugged his knees tighter against his torso where he lay in an awkward fetal position, but it was really no use at this point. All of his extremities were completely numb. His face was numb too, though he had tried to find the driest place he could in the gathering darkness. The damp moss underneath him was not the most uncomfortable thing he had ever felt; however, his warm, soft bed with its thick quilts and proximity to a fireplace seemed like the most amazing place on earth right now.

  But he had to be brave. Ten-year-olds were not supposed to be afraid of the dark anymore. His friend Constantine had told him so.

  Though this was most assuredly the scariest night he could remember. Remmy could not see anything, one- because his eyes were squeezed shut, and two- the night had turned pitch black under the thunderous clouds that had gathered earlier. The only thing that lit the forest around him were the flashes of lightning that seemed to rent the very earth on which he lay. Remmy could only listen to the sounds of the tortured woods being battered mercilessly around him. Surely nothing could survive this onslaught. The trees screamed as the wind tore through their appendages, ripping the leaves from their tenuous grasp. Wood deep inside ancient beech and oak trees groaned as if finally giving up against the power of the storm. The river that ran through the forested estate rose higher and higher as the rain caused it to become more swollen and angry by the minute.

  And unbeknownst to Remmy, he was less than fifteen feet from the fast-growing watercourse.

  If only someone knew he was here. If only someone had happened to glance out the window as he was running across the lawn that evening, wooden sword in hand. It had been a wonderful day for playing in the woods, warm and sunny and dry. He had been at it for hours, facing down monsters and magical foes, happily whacking every personified tree that threatened his existence. Eventually, he had gotten hungry and had to take a reprieve from the mayhem of his violent imagination. After his quickly-eaten meal, he had been ready for more bloodthirsty pirates and vagabonds, but his mother had told him to go to bed.

  Unfortunately, Remmy often took things quite literally when it suited him to do so, and so he went to bed and then right back outside again, via the servants' stairs. It wasn't dark yet, and it was still very warm, seeing as it was July. Remmy had ventured deeper into the forest, following the trail of a particularly hard-to-catch villain until he didn't quite remember exactly which trail he had used to get to where he was. He hadn't been too concerned. It was getting dark, and the wind had picked up a bit, but he was sure he could make it home before it grew too dark to see.

  After almost two hours of increasingly frantic exploring, however, Remmy knew that he was in deep trouble. It had started to rain copiously, and thunder could be heard in the distance. But his main problem was that he could no longer see well enough to keep searching for the way back to the house. In his mind, he knew at that point that this night was going to be a bad one, but it didn't quite set in until he was soaked to the skin and huddled under the old log that he really wished he had listened to his mother.

  All the same, Remmy had no idea of how much danger he was actually in, for the river had almost reached his little hideaway. He was too engrossed in listening to the horrendous sounds of devastation around him to notice the tiny rivulets of water that invaded his hollow. And by the time he did notice, it was too late.

  Remmy gasped and jumped up, hitting his head on the bottom of the moss-covered log. He felt the ground around him with his hands, the pooling swirls of water impossible to ignore. Now that he was listening for it, he could hear the roar of the river, much closer than he ever thought was possible. He hadn't even known he was anywhere near it, but it was clear that it was coming to him.

  Remmy unbent his frozen limbs carefully and crawled out from under the log. He stood up and looked around, but couldn't see anything at all save vague shapes of swaying trees and branches. Holding his arms in front of him, Remmy stumbled forward, away from where he thought the water was coming. He knew it was dangerous to walk through the woods in the dark. There were rabbit holes and rocky outcroppings that could cause him injury in the blink of an eye, but he had no other choice now. The uneven ground with downed branches everywhere caused him to trip more than once, but he kept going, wanting to make sure he was well away from the furious river. He kept walking clumsily forward, blinking furiously as the rain pelted his face, for all the good it did him to keep his eyes open in the dark. He would be safe soon, he knew, for he had walked a good hundred feet away from the log.

  What Remmy didn't know, however, was that he was near a bend in the river that would take him right to it in another few steps. The wind whistled against his ears, leaving no room for hearing the rage of the water. His feet felt a flat, hard surface beneath them, and this was good, since it meant he might not trip over any more fallen debris. There was a branch about shoulder height that he chose to keep one hand on as he went in case he slipped. And before a second had passed, that is exactly what happened, because the rock Remmy had been stepping on abruptly ended, and his foot met with empty air. Remmy sucked in a breath as his balanced failed and he pitched forward. He managed to save a grip on the branch above him as he fell, but he knew he could not maintain his hold for long. His legs plunged into icy water, and he knew he was hanging above the tumultuous river. His last thought before his hand lost its strength and he was swallowed up was of all the adventures he would never have.

  Remmy tried to fight the sucking current, but there was nothing he could do, especially with his clothes weighing his every movement. He knew how to swim just fine, but this momentous force of nature was a far cry from the normally sedate parts of the river he and his friends often swam in. His arms and legs flailed in panic, but he couldn't seem to keep his head above the water long enough to take any air in. He choked, trying to spit out the water that kept rushing in, but it didn't seem to help. Nothing seemed to be able to help him now.

  As his body was swept along with the rampant swell, Remmy could feel his strength waning and his life slipping away. His lungs took in water, his airways too labored to do anything but allow the cold liquid to fill them up. He knew he was going to die soon. His poor mother and father. They would never know what had happened to him. Neither would Con or Tris, his best friends in the world. They would take care of his dog for him, he knew.

  These thoughts ran through his mind with great speed as he lost consc
iousness.

  But he was not to be blissfully unaware for long. The next thing Remmy knew, his throat was on fire and his lungs were surely being coughed up out of his chest. He was choking again and someone was thumping his back rather painfully.

  Remmy rubbed at his eyes and looked up to see the dim outline of a person, a man, he thought. Who, he couldn't tell, but it didn't matter. They had saved him. He was alive.

  He could hear him yelling something, but it couldn't be heard over the storm. He didn't think he could reply anyways, he felt so weak. His shoulders and head were supported in the person's lap, and Remmy could have gladly stayed liked that forever, but his savior arranged him in his arms and began to carry him. Remmy was propped up on the back of a tall horse, his rescuer seated behind him. The man's chest was warm and solid and safe, and Remmy let himself relax against it as the horse plodded along a forest trail. Exhaustion set in to his bones, and he let his eyes close, the rhythmic swaying lulling him into a state of sleep.

  After a time, Remmy didn't know how long, the horse came to a stop, and he was lifted down. Remmy opened his eyes to slits, and observed that he was still in the forest, but there were dim lights here and there around him. The man carried him into some sort of tent and laid him down on a bed roll. There was a pile of hot coals in the center of the abode that Remmy could feel radiating heat from where he was. The man who had dragged him from the river spoke to another person who was in the tent, but Remmy couldn't understand anything he said. The words were foreign, unlike anything he'd heard before. Then the man left, leaving him to the mercy of the tent's occupant. He shivered in relief as thick fur blankets were placed over him and tucked around the edges of the bed roll. The tent was much warmer than outside, and with the blankets, Remmy could start to feel his limbs coming awake again, tiny pinpricks needling inside him.

  Someone took a dry cloth and blotted his face. The person's hands were gentle, and Remmy sighed at the comforting ministrations. When the cloth was taken away, he opened his eyes again and looked up into the face of a very wrinkly old woman, her skin the color of a pinecone. Her eyes were a darker, liquid brown, darker than his own brown eyes. She was smiling, her lined lips stretched in an unmistakable expression of kindness. His first inclination was to cringe back from the gnarled visage, but he was too tired to make any movement but a tiny intake of breath. Her smile grew into a raspy chuckle. She turned away to reach for something. Remmy braced himself. The old woman had a handful of coals wrapped in the cloth she had used on his face, and she carefully interspersed them underneath the bedroll on which he lay. After a few seconds, he could feel heat coming from the bedroll, the sensation so wonderful that Remmy felt his eyes beginning to grow heavy again. The old woman watched him, but put a hand on his shoulder and spoke when he closed his eyes. Remmy didn't understand her, but then she uttered words he did know, and his eyes snapped open.

  "You are from the manor, yes?" Her voice was bumpy, but pleasant.

  Remmy simply blinked.

  "You are part of Lord Rothstone's household?" She looked at him patiently.

  He nodded slowly.

  She smiled. "What is your name, small one?"

  "Rem-" he coughed. "Remington Rothstone."

  She nodded. "You are the little master of the house. I thought so. I've seen you running through the woods like a monkey." She laughed.

  Remmy felt himself smile a little.

  "Who are you?" he asked.

  "My name is Natia."

  "Where are we?" He glanced around the tent, noticing the dried plants hanging from a wooden dowel on the back wall and the pots and pans filling up another wall.

  "We are on your lands, in the southern part. Your father gave us permission to camp here and hunt in the area."

  "You're camping?" he asked, confused. "Is it a hunting party?"

  She laughed again, her head tilting back. "No, little master. We are Romnaichal. Roma."

  "You're from Rome?"

  At this, Natia laughed even harder and wiped tears from her eyes before answering. "No, no. We are what you call Gypsies. Wanderers."

  Rem's eyes widened. "You're a gypsy?" This was perfect! Boy, what a story he would have to tell.

  "Yes, I'm a Gypsy. Yoska, the man who pulled you from the river, is also Roma. He brought you here to our camp because it was closer than your home. You must have wandered a long ways tonight."

  Remmy nodded solemnly. "I disobeyed my mama. She thinks I'm asleep in bed. But I went out to play. I didn't know it was going to storm."

  Natia nodded and pursed her lips. "Now do you see why it is important to obey your mama? She is a wise woman, and you should have listened to her. You are very lucky Yoska found you when he did."

  Remmy's eyes began to fill. "I know."

  Natia put her hand on his forehead. "Now, it's alright. You are safe, and you have learned something tonight. In the morning, you can tell your mama you are sorry for not obeying, yes?"

  He nodded again, then paused. "Are you magical?" he blurted.

  Natia chuckled. "No, little monkey. No magic here. We are Christian, like you."

  "Oh," he said, the disappointment in his voice obvious.

  Natia decided to take pity on him. "But sometimes, God tells me things about people that I can share with them to help them on their life's journey."

  "Really?" Rem's eyes lit up. "Like what?"

  Natia studied his small, pale face with its pert nose and dimple in the left cheek. She took his face in her hands and closed her eyes. She was silent for some time, and Remmy's heart sped up, wondering what God was telling her about him. The air seemed to crackle with something he couldn't define, something that sent pleasant shivers up his spine. He sent up a little prayer of his own that what she said would be something he could brag about to his friends.

  Finally, Natia let out a long breath and took her hands from his face. When she looked at him, she was smiling, her eyes rimmed with tears.

  "What is it?" he asked reverently.

  "Oh, it is very wonderful," she informed him. "You are good boy, and God will be with you always, even when you are not such a good boy." She chuckled.

  "That's it?" Remmy sighed. "Well...that's good, I suppose." He tried to hide his disappointment.

  "That is not all."

  Remmy perked up.

  "You will see the person you are fated for, and you will love her in an instant. Her pull on you will be irrevocable. There will be no others, and your love will last for a lifetime." She smiled eagerly, the scraggly teeth in her mouth visible.

  Remmy's mouth was open, and his eyebrow was raised. "What? You mean, a girl? That's all He talked about was a girl? I don't care about that! I want to know about me!"

  Natia frowned. "Not just a girl. Your soulmate, little one."

  "Oh, I have a soulmate already. His name is Spot. And I don't need another girl. My mama is a girl, and I already love her."

  Natia tried not to smile, realizing she was not going to convince him of her revelation's significance. "But I have not yet told you the best part," she said tantalizingly, rocking back on heels.

  "There's more?" Remmy's attention was immediately riveted once again.

  Natia nodded. "This woman will change your life and give you great happiness, but beware." She held up a knobby finger. "Death will surround her, and you will be the only one that can save her from grave peril."

  Remmy gasped. "So it will be an adventure? And I'm the hero?"

  "Yes."

  "Will I get to use a sword?"

  "Ehm...I'm not sure," Natia admitted with a quirk of her lips.

  "I hope so," he breathed, his hands twitching with eagerness under the blankets.

  "You'll have to wait and see. But right now," Natia's tone changed. She tucked his blankets in more snugly. "You must go to sleep. I will wake you up when it's time to go home, and I will be right here the whole time, yes?"

  Remmy nodded. "Alright. But I'm not sure I can sleep now that I'm so exci
ted about the adventure I'm to have."

  "Try your best, little monkey. I don't think you will have too much trouble," she observed, watching his eyelids grow heavier by the second. She watched as Rem scooted deeper into the covers, his breathing slow and even within a few short minutes.

  Yes, this one was to have quite an adventure. That, she knew.

  Chapter 1

  April 28, 1840

  A peculiar paradox faced the woman seated determinedly straight on the blue damask sofa of her family's drawing room. Her nerves were tingling, her chest burgeoning with a growing anticipation. She thought she might never have been this excited in all her life. And yet, she couldn't seem to stop the yawn that threatened her precarious composure. In fact, her eyelids were beginning to droop, a condition she remedied quickly by opening her eyes wide and blinking several times.

  Unfortunately, the person seated across from her on a rather spindly chintz chair did not mistake the motion for renewed curiosity. Her mother's eyes narrowed. "Laura...Laura! Are you listening? This is very important. I cannot stress enough-"

  "Oh, Mother, please." Laura finally let the yawn she had been holding back out and with it her next indrawn breath, the excitement returned full force. "I know how to act respectably. You needn't worry in the slightest, I promise." She rose from the sofa with a natural grace that seemed to mollify her mother, who was watching her every movement with wry observation. The Parrington’s drawing room was decorated in a mix of Parisian blues and golds, which set Laura’s skin to glowing. Laura crossed around the tea table and took her mother's hands. "Mama, it's going to be wonderful.” She couldn't disguise the underlying giddiness in her voice.

  Laura's mother, Lady Astoria Parrington, sighed gustily and abandoned her prepared lecture as she looked fondly up at her daughter's visage. Lady Parrington knew her daughter would be utterly charming and radiant at her first ball. In fact, that was what she was afraid of. Gazing at the features of her daughter's eager, eighteen-year-old face, she tried to quench the feeling of foreboding that loomed in the back of her mind.