Capturing the Viscount (Rakes and Roses Book 1) Read online

  Rem picked up the copper plate and studied it again, caressing the arch of her neck and her graceful silhouette with his eyes. Having her in his arms had been heaven. They were perfect together. Rem had slept with women before, and, if he was honest with himself, it had not been earth-shattering or even very satisfying. The act of passion had been just that- an act. A shallow and, frankly lazy, act borne out of loneliness and boredom. Even at the time, he had known it for what it was, and that it wasn’t right, the feeling as if he’d put his shoes on the wrong feet and tried to walk around in them. Moreover, he couldn’t even say it felt morally right, seeing as he didn’t like the thought of his Maker knowing the selfish activities that lacked even the feeling necessary to be in the women’s presence after the fact. But Rem knew without a doubt that a passion like Laura's was found only once in a lifetime. And to let it slip away because of pride or fear would be the biggest mistake he would ever make.

  No, he had to act fast. He had to make Laura fall in love with him before anyone else convinced her they were right for her. Because anyone else would be wrong. Now all he needed to do was convince her of that.

  "You good-for-nothing tub of lard!" Laura shouted, shaking her fist at the retreating figure. Disentangling herself from her equipment, she stomped after the red-haired offender, who was heading through the drawing room door and into the main entry hall. "Reginald, you sit around all day on your arse, doing nothing of use to anyone, eating anything anyone puts in front of you. And when I need you to do just one thing- One thing!- you think you can just saunter away like no one is depending on you. Well, I've got news for you, you overgrown pin-cushion! You're fired! Fired!" Reginald Parrington ignored her tirade and kept walking towards the back garden at a leisurely pace. "You're getting nothing from Cook until you can behave like a reasonable member of this household! Why, you are the most unproductive specimen of laziness I have ever-"

  "Laura, stop lecturing the cat," Astoria said absentmindedly. She was walking in the opposite direction, a calling card in her hand that she was studying very closely.

  Laura growled after the feline as he made his exit into the sunshine on the back portico. "He ruined my photograph. Now all it's going to be is a blurry fur-ball in the middle of the settee. What a waste. I only have nine more plates before I have to find some way to get more."

  Lady Parrington looked up from the card. "Well, maybe it's time you abandoned that hobby then. Speaking of which, have Jonathan take your Dag down and store it. We have company coming in half an hour. Meaning...?" Laura's mother looked at her expectantly.

  "Meaning..."

  "Meaning, go get dressed, you nincompoop! You have stains all over that old thing," Lady Parrington said despairingly, fingering the edge of Laura's sleeve.

  "Oh, well, if you prefer, I'll just do my photography in my new peach silk, then, shall I? Good idea, mother. I don't know what I was thinking."

  Laura's mother raised her eyebrow. "Your capacity for sarcasm is inspiring."

  Laura smiled sunnily. "Thank you." She turned and headed for the stairs.

  "Oh, and Laura?"

  "Yes, mother?"

  Lady Parrington smiled. "Do wear your peach silk."

  Laura found Jonathan in the upstairs hallway, manning his post at her father's study door. After instructing him to gather up the camera equipment in the downstairs drawing room (a request he was all too familiar with), Laura set about changing her attire for the guests. She didn't much care who they were. Undoubtedly, it was one or more of Mother's friends towing along their biddable daughters in hopes of dispelling the rumors of Laura's beauty. Inevitably, these visits led to disappointment on everyone's part, although Laura did try to make friends with the girls who came calling.

  She sighed as she shrugged into the airy peach dress that had been delivered from the dressmaker's yesterday. "Oh, drat it all," Laura growled in irritation. She couldn't possibly reach all of the tiny buttons that drew the dress together in back. She should have remembered it took a maid to help with it. But although it was a hassle to put on, Laura did love the garment. It's deeply scooped neckline barely bared her shoulders before slimming down into long sleeves that ended in a triangle of lace which looped around her middle finger. The dress molded to her figure almost until her knees, at which point it flared out in a gauzy bell that flowed around her as she walked. The dressmaker had assured Laura and her mother that she would be the only woman wearing anything like it this season. Laura didn't particularly care about that, but she did admire the elegant lines and whimsical touches that were unique in the current fashions. And peach really did look well on her, she had to admit. It brought out the creamy blush of her cheeks and the pale wheat of her hair. She thought it made her look very sophisticated indeed.

  While her maid, Eliza, buttoned her up and made sure her coiffure was intact, Laura wondered if perhaps she should invite Georgiana to accompany her to the Craigerton ball that was to be held tonight. It would be much more pleasant going with a friend, one that she could be honest with. And who knew? Maybe she would spy the mysterious man from the garden and sweep past him arm in arm with her friend and pretend like he was the least of her concerns. Laura felt her face heat up at the thought of meeting him again. Could she pretend such indifference? And what if he did the same? Would she confront him? She didn't think her pride could withstand it if he acted as though nothing had happened between them.

  Eliza finished with her hair and left, commenting that Laura looked as lovely as a peach herself.

  Laura's reflection confirmed Eliza's opinion. She reached for the pearl earbobs that had been left out for her, willing her cheeks to lose their heightened color. She squelched her wayward thoughts willfully. He had probably kissed dozens of girls in the moonlight during a ball. He probably conducted assignations all the time.

  A sinking thought occurred to her. What if he had been meeting someone else there?

  Her shoulders slumped. Though she didn't want to admit it, it was a definite possibility. After all, what else would a man have been doing out in the conservatory during a social event? Laura studied her reflection, her sulking lips adding to the flat expression in her eyes.

  Suddenly, her disappointment gave way to a wave of resentment. She straightened and frowned at herself. How dare he substitute one woman for another? How dare he kiss her when he meant to be kissing another? Presumptuous, arrogant, trifling worm. That's what he was. And if he thought that one silly book was going to convince her that their embrace in the garden had meant something, well, he had another thing coming.

  Laura rose from her vanity bench and jammed her feet into the matching peach slippers that were laid out near her bed and swept from the room. Descending the stairs, Laura determined she wasn't going to spend another minute thinking about the cad who had trifled with her in that stupid garden. She crossed the entry hall and rounded the corner into the drawing room. The whole night was stupid. Her decision to sneak about was stupid, that kiss was stupid, and most of all, that ridiculously handsome man was stu-

  "Laura," her mother announced, ushering her into the drawing room. "You remember my very good friend, Lady Penelope Rothstone. She has been such a dear since we've come to town. And this is her son-"

  Laura's thoughts came to a screeching standstill as the man looking out the window slowly turned. Her eyes widened as his face came into view, the rugged jawline and straight nose limned in sunlight.

  "-the Viscount Remington Rothstone," her mother finished.

  The man smiled- the sort of smile a cat would wear when he knows he has finally cornered the mouse.

  Him.

  Chapter 4

  Rem's smile only grew as he watched Laura's face grow stonier by the second. "I'm honored to make your acquaintance, Miss Parrington." He sketched a bow, but kept his eyes raised to hers during the gesture.

  Laura's eyes narrowed. The silence lengthened.

  "Laura?" Lady Parrington nudged her daughter's elbow. "Say something,
" she hissed.

  Laura breathed out slowly through her nose. She cleared her throat and casually made her way towards the settee near the window. "Mr. Rothstone. How very...enchanting to finally meet you," she purred, coming to stop a few feet from him.

  Rem covered his laugh with a cough. My, but this woman was something to behold. Her body was poured into a pale pinkish dress that reminded him of a delectable fruit. As it was, he couldn't help wanting to taste her creamy flesh right there in the drawing room, parental supervision or not.

  "Something wrong, Mr. Rothstone?" Laura inquired, her tone acidic. She had folded her arms and was glaring fiercely.

  "Rem, what's gotten into you?" his mother demanded while attempting to help rid him of his cough by slapping him between the shoulder blades.

  Rem waved her off, and cleared his own throat. "Nothing mother. I was just overcome by my reaction to Miss Parrington's legendary beauty." Rem's lips quirked as he watched Laura's nostril's flare.

  "My beauty, hmm?" Laura interjected. "And would you say that you've never seen anything like it before?"

  "Laura!" Astoria exclaimed.

  "I can honestly say that I have never seen anything to equal it," Rem answered smoothly, knowing that his tone conveyed the utmost sincerity. And, indeed, he had meant it. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Even then, he knew that he would feel the same in ten, twenty, fifty years. She would always be the most beautiful thing to come into his life.

  Right now, however, it looked as though his thing of beauty might explode. Laura's hands were clenched into small, white balls of rage, and her breathing was coming faster than was warranted for simply standing in one place.

  "Er, Penny," Astoria said slowly, watching her daughter's reaction. Something odd was going on here. "Perhaps I should show you round the garden. It's coming into bloom very nicely."

  Lady Rothstone, who had been staring at her son as if he had suddenly sprouted a horn in the center of his forehead, blinked a few times and looked at her friend. "I think you might be right, Astoria. Marvelous idea," she stated, and began walking towards the door where her Lady Parrington stood.

  "Well, we'll leave you two to speak of..er...young-people things." Astoria smiled and walked away arm-in-arm with Penelope, ignoring her daughter's look of utter betrayal.

  As soon as the two women were out of sight, Laura's head whipped back around to Rem, her expression smoldering with accusation.

  "I'd say our first meeting went well, wouldn't you? Definitely a promising start to our courtship," Rem commented, his smile innocent and satisfied. He stepped toward Laura, but she only took the same step backwards from him.

  "Our...our what?!" Laura spluttered, staring at him in horror.

  Rem advanced another step, but Laura had nowhere to go, as she was now backed up against the settee. Laura didn't realize this until too late and tried to take another step back, which only succeeded in forcing her to plop down onto the blue cushions and look up at him. Rem could see her breathing was uneven- not in anger anymore, but in fluster. He watched as her face became flushed, and she gulped, the lump traveling rapidly down her graceful neck. He leaned down, bracing his right hand on the maplewood arm of the sofa. Bringing his other hand to her cheek, he trailed the briefest of strokes down her jawline. "Yes, Miss Parrington. Our courtship," he said softly.

  "Y-you. You're insane," Laura whispered, stealing a glance towards the open door.

  "Then I can only hope it's catching," Rem replied, and closed the distance between them. Rem made sure the kiss was restrained, and yet, he couldn't seem to stop himself from giving her lips a quick lick while he had them pressed to his.

  Laura started when she felt his tongue touch her bottom lip, warm and wet and, yes, tempting. His presence surrounded her, gave her a sense of protection. And yet, there were unknown dangers here as well. She could feel his left hand touch her earlobe gently and thumb the hair at her temple. Her bones began to feel weak and tingly. Oh, she could happily fall into this bottomless abyss and never come back up.

  But she wasn't going to be pulled in again this time around. She pulled away with a jerk. "What do you think you're doing?" She put both hands on his chest and pushed. Though she could tell her efforts hadn't had the slightest effect on him, he moved back and straightened. Still smiling, he held out a hand to her. Laura ignored it and stood up on her own. "How dare you! You are the most conceited man I've ever met!" Laura pointed a finger at his chest and poked him with it. "You think that I'd let you court me after what happened?" she said incredulously.

  "Well," Rem interrupted her tirade. "I admit we've gotten the process a little backwards, but I think, on the whole, the story is going rather well so far." He took the finger that was currently jabbing him in the breastbone and moved it to the side. He could see she was still fuming, so he left it at that. It seemed she had a markedly different take on the events of the past few days.

  "Why, you-you-," Laura started, but didn't get the chance to finish. Lady Parrington and Lady Rothstone's heels could be heard clacking towards the drawing room. Laura re-crossed her arms and held her silence as their mothers' voices became more distinct.

  Rem simply held Laura's icy gaze with a pleasant half-smile as they listened to their mothers plan an outing for them all the next day.

  Excellent. He evidently needed more time to convince Laura of their inevitable attachment to one another. He left the Parrington's residence undaunted, but of the conviction that he definitely needed a more strategic plan of action. Something more subversive, perhaps.

  Well, Rem thought, as he escorted his mother home, he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. And one of them was bound to work on Miss Laura Parrington. No, he didn't particularly want to play tug-of-heart with his future bride. But if that's what it took, Rem thought grimly, then let the games begin...

  "Remington Rothstone?! The Viscount?" Georgiana exclaimed in a whisper. "Laura, he's going to be a Duke!"

  "Yes, I know that," Laura hissed back. She smiled and moved aside for a matron who was waddling towards a chair next to them. They stood against a wall in the corner of the Tirram's ballroom, trying to be unobtrusive, lest a horde of hopeful young men accost them for the next dance. Neither of them had been able to sit out for the past three dances, but Laura had pulled Georgiana behind an ivy-covered post near where the grand pianoforte was sitting, unused for the evening due to the orchestra that had been hired. She hoped no one would notice them there.

  "He's the one who kissed you? No wonder you liked it," her friend observed wryly.

  "Gia!" Laura exclaimed, using the shortened name Georgiana had insisted she use.

  "What? He's sinfully good-looking. Everyone knows that."

  "Apparently, I didn't! I didn't know who he was until this afternoon. And now I have to spend the entire day with him tomorrow," she whined. The matron sitting a few feet away looked at the pair in reproach, her turban's yellow feather bobbing forebodingly. Laura shuffled in the other direction a few feet.

  "Have to?" Gia raised her eyebrow.

  "Yes, have to. You don't understand! He's insufferable! He's a complete rogue. Our whole household was in residence, and he didn't even hesitate to kiss me right in the front drawing room."

  Gia's eyes widened. "In front of your mothers?"

  "No, they had left the room for a moment. Which only makes it worse that he considers any absence of a chaperone fair chance to accost me."

  "Oh, Laura, you're being such a drag! I know legions of women who would swoon at the chance to kiss Remington Rothstone."

  "Gia, I barely know him," Laura stated adamantly.

  "He seems to know his way around you," Gia said dryly.

  Laura opened her mouth to retort, but a shadow to her right drew her gaze. She started as Trent Arberley seemed to materialize out of thin air by her side.

  "Miss Parrington," he bowed, taking her hand up for a kiss to the back of her knuckles. "You wound the pride of your admirers hiding
away like this."

  She held in a sigh as she glared at the top of his wheat-gold head. His eyes smoldered calculatingly as he raised his face. Oh yes, she had to admit he was handsome. But there was something false in his tone and carefully cultivated expression that made her cringe inside. His humor had caught her off guard the first time they had spoken, but the more she had thought about it, the more his wit had soured into a curdle of distasteful manipulation. "Would that my admirers were so easily daunted," she hinted meaningfully, retracting her hand from his long fingers.

  "Can you blame a man for his determination to place himself in your divine presence?" he said smoothly.

  Georgiana snorted into her fan.

  Arberley gave her a sharp look, but returned his gaze to Laura quickly and resumed a smiling expression. "Please don't say that you would send such a man away to nurse as deep a grief as it would prove being banished from the warmth of your loveliness."

  On one level, Laura was flattered by his dogged attempts to charm her, but she had simply lost all patience for charm tonight. Lately, there had been too much flattery and honeyed words thrown at her by men whose sincerity she had no skill in judging thus far. Truthfully, she wanted to slap Trent Arberley in the face and walk away, but Laura conceded that it might be an overreaction on her part.

  Summoning a smile, she replied. "Lord Arberley, I have no wish to banish anyone from my presence, least of all a delightful courtier such as yourself. I had simply sought a private word with my dear friend about...er...womanly troubles of a physical nature."

  Laura smirked inside as she saw the panic flash across Lord Arberley's expression.

  "O-Oh," he stammered. "I had not realized I was intruding upon such a conversation." He swallowed convulsively and fidgeted nervously with the ruby signet ring on his finger. His eyes darting from side to side, Arberley looked slightly panicked. "If you will excuse me," he said, bowing hurriedly to each of them in turn, "I will await your stimulating company until a more convenient time." He turned abruptly and walked right through the whirl of dancing couples to the other side of the room where the punch bowl sat, bumping into two pairs of dancers and an old man on the way.