Capturing the Viscount (Rakes and Roses Book 1) Page 9

  "Ladies, I trust you are enjoying the vocalists this evening?" he smiled, his teeth white and even.

  Laura smiled in return. She remembered meeting this particular man, but couldn't recall his name. His face was angular and pleasant, with hawkish brows and a straight nose. His hair was a thick, medium brown that looked as if it never misbehaved, except to charmingly ruffle in the breeze. He had seemed polite, but other than that, nothing came to mind of their previous conversations. "Yes, indeed. We were just commenting upon the scurrilous character of Don Giovanni, Mr...?"

  "Fennimore," he provided. "Grayson Fennimore. You are Miss Laura Parrington, and your companion?" He turned to Mrs. Orlove, who gave him her name and then politely excused herself to find her husband. After she had taken her leave, he continued, "I would have to agree with you that the main character is not one whom it would be wise to emulate. He certainly casts a rather damning shadow upon my gender." Mr. Fennimore smiled good-naturedly.

  Laura laughed. "I am sure that his behavior does not reflect on your own, Mr. Fennimore."

  "I would hope not. Although his pursuit of the fair sex is disturbingly misguided, one has to admire his zeal. If he ever set eyes on you, Miss Parrington, I'm not sure I would begrudge him his determination."

  Laura blushed and looked down. His eyes were genuinely kind, she could see. And he was intelligent as well. She was quickly finding that she did not mind his company at all.

  "You know how to flatter a lady, Mr. Fennimore."

  "Ah, but it's not flattery if it's true. And call me Grayson," he inserted smoothly, taking her hand and holding it warmly.

  "Oh, I couldn't." she shook her head.

  "Please. I would feel honored." He laid his other hand over hers.

  "Well," Laura conceded. "Only when no one else will hear, then."

  "Fair enough." He grinned.

  Laura returned the smile. She could like this man, she realized. His eyes were a golden brown with amber flecks shot throughout. He was smiling down at her when Gia came up beside her and nudged her hard in the ribcage with her elbow.

  "Ouch. What was that for?"

  "Laura, you must introduce me to your friend," Gia smiled brightly at Lord Fennimore.

  "Ah, but I know who you are, Miss Hammond. A woman as beautiful as yourself can hardly expect to remain anonymous in London's ballrooms this season."

  Laura muffled a giggle. Grayson Fennimore obviously couldn't help but be irresistibly charming to every woman he came across. She would do well to remember that. But it was impossible for her to bear any ill will towards Gia for capturing his attention. After all, she deserved to find a good match just as much as she.

  Lord Fennimore spoke warmly with Gia and her for another few moments when, gradually, Laura became aware of an odd sensation between her shoulders. A slight coolness raised goosebumps on her upper back. She glanced behind her to see if anyone had passed by, creating a breeze, but no one was in the immediate vicinity. Discreetly, she reached behind her neck to satisfy her need to quell the unsettling feeling. As she did so, her eyes widened when she realized that the clasp holding her dress together at the top had come undone. As the design for the dress allowed for a triangle of lacy under-lining to show below the top closure before coming together again just above the small of her back, Laura knew that her entire back would be exposed now, including the uppermost stays of her corset.

  Her heart rose up in her throat as she tried to keep her face from showing her panic. "Gia," she said softly, tugging on her friend's glove.

  Gia waved her off, still under the influence of Lord Fennimore's smile.

  "Gia, may I speak with you for a moment?"

  "Can it wait? Gia ground out, still smiling at the man before them.

  "Well-," Laura started.

  "Oh, good," Gia cut in. "Now what were you saying, Lord Fennimore?"

  Laura growled internally. So much for friendship when a rich man with all his teeth came sniffing around. She began to scoot to the side, hugging the wall closely lest anyone see her fashion mishap. Her eyes darted around the room, making sure that no one noticed her progress towards the dimly lit hallway to her left. She didn't know where the powder room was located, but all she needed was an empty room, perhaps the coatroom or some such, to put her dress to rights. She rounded the corner and was making steady progress towards a door that looked promising when a well-dressed man and woman came walking down the hall towards her. The man moved with a smooth grace that Laura recognized immediately, despite the poorly-lit passage.

  "Blast it all," she muttered as Remington Rothstone strode towards her nonchalantly.

  "Well, if it isn't Miss Laura Parrington sneaking off again to wander the halls unchaperoned." He approached her with a smirk on his lips. The woman accompanying him stood a few feet away, also smiling.

  Laura glanced at his companion, a curiously dressed woman who looked to be only slightly older than herself. She had riotously curly hair of a dark hue, and olive-toned skin with full, red lips. The woman’s garb consisted of layers of bright-colored materials and jangling belts and purses. She’d never seen anything like it. And then it hit her: she must be an actress with the theatre.

  “Oh, are you in the production tonight?” Laura asked politely, hoping to glean what she was doing with Rothstone.

  Not that she cared. At all. Not at all.

  The woman grinned. “No.”

  Just no. Well, then. “Right. I- your dress is lovely,” she tried.

  “Thank you,” she replied, inclining her head. She turned her wide brown eyes to Rothstone. “Remmy, I’ll wait for you outside?”

  “That sounds fine, Mina. Tell Yoska I’ll won’t be too long.”

  Laura narrowed her eyes. He was leaving with this woman? And someone else? Who was she to him?

  Not that she cared.

  Mina touched his shoulder briefly before nodding at Laura and sashaying away down the hall.

  “Who was that?” she inquired, pressing herself more firmly against the wall to conceal her state of undress. She made sure her tone was casual.

  "If I didn't know any better, I would say that you weren't glad to see me. And I little jealous." He raised a brow.

  She scoffed. “Not even a little bit.”

  “It’s a bit fetching, actually. Green looks good on you, Miss Parrington.”

  Her lips pursed. “I don’t care who you keep company with, Lord Rothstone, as long as it’s not me.”

  “Tsk. You’re not a very good liar, you know,” he told her, a twinkle in his eye.

  "I thought you were attending the Craigerton ball tonight," she said flatly.

  He smiled, an uneven quirk of the lips. "You shouldn't assume I escort my mother around to every function she deems worthy."

  "You're right. That would be the act of a gentleman."

  He barked a laugh. "No, that would be the act of a mummy's boy, which, though I love my mother dearly, does not describe me."

  "I wouldn't think you enjoyed the opera," Laura commented pertly.

  "And why wouldn't I?" He leaned against the wall next to her, arms crossed, that infernal twist of a smile still haunting his face.

  "Too much culture," she shot back.

  He laughed again. "You are quite determined to paint me as the dim-witted villain, aren't you?" he said wryly.

  "Not at all. It's just that you make it so easy." She gave him her best smile and batted her lashes up into his face.

  He smiled, his white teeth showing in the darkness. He didn't say anything for a moment, just looked at her. Then, he said simply. "I like you."

  Laura's heart stopped mid-beat. She swallowed convulsively, not sure of how to respond. If only he wasn't so blasted handsome! He made her forget her scruples every time they met. His eyes seemed endless pools of molten darkness that drew her inexorably in. The smile that lingered on his lips constantly drew her gaze as well, making her recall the searing kisses he had stolen from her.

  When she di
dn't respond after a moment, he took pity on her and resumed the conversation. "Why are you wandering around back here anyways?"

  "I could ask you the same question," she retorted, not about to tell him her reason for wanting an empty room nearby. She adjusted herself against the wall, careful not to reveal her back.

  "I was visiting with the owner of the establishment, actually. My contributions to this place entitle me to certain considerations, which I was using to arrange a business transaction for a dear friend."

  “Mina?” she inquired, not able to help herself. She could feel the jealousy coursing through her and hated herself for it, even as she couldn’t control it.

  “Among others, yes. They helped me once when I was in trouble, and I have strived to champion their cause ever since. So when the theatre needed supplies of a certain nature, I thought of Mina’s family and pressed my influence.”

  "That sounds like too much clout for one man," Laura said skeptically.

  "I have much too much money for one man," replied smoothly.

  Laura rolled her eyes. It seemed he was involved in helping others, which she had to admit was a redeeming quality. She just wished the recipient of his generosity wasn’t so pretty and mysterious.

  Not that she cared.

  Feeling the rather cool wall against her shoulders, Laura became uneasy. "Well, if you will excuse me, I really need to be going now."

  He blinked, but did not move from his casual stance against the wall. "So go."

  Laura scowled. "I need to go that way." She nodded towards the way he had come.

  Lord Rothstone frowned. Nodding slowly, he said, "Alright. Go around me."

  Laura's scowl deepened. She couldn't very well leave the safety of the wall and risk anyone, especially him, seeing her state of undress. Arms crossed, she shuffled from foot to foot. "I would appreciate it very much if you would let me pass."

  "I am not hindering you, madam, I assure you." His voice had grown a tad suspicious.

  "Please move aside, then, Sir," Laura said in her most commanding tone.

  Lord Rothstone uncrossed his lower leg from the other and stood up straight, his expression wholly confused. "What is going on with you, Miss Parrington?" His eyes narrowed in on her.

  The look on Laura's face was torn between fury and panic. Her gaze raked his face in debate. Finally, Laura let out a breath. "If you must know, Lord Rothstone, I have a- an issue with my attire that I need to correct."

  Understanding slowly dawned on his face. At first he smiled, then chuckled, but at the look on Laura's visage as he did so, quickly cleared his throat and became politely quiet. After a moment of stony silence from Laura, however, he rolled his eyes. "Oh, bollocks, it's not as if you're walking around in your shift and stockings. Here, come this way." He laid his hand on her elbow and began to move back down the hallway with her in tow. "There's an antechamber they use for quick storage of serving platters and such just down here."

  Laura wasn't sure she ought to be following him anywhere, but under the circumstances, she really didn't have any other options. Still scooting along the wall and casting furtive glances behind her to make sure no one was watching, she let him lead her past one more door until they came to one that he opened and swiftly pulled her through. Her breath caught as she entered the pitch-black room, Rothstone having pulled the door shut behind them. She groped around in the dark, wanting something to ground herself to.

  She heard Rothstone let out a curse from somewhere to her right.

  Laura continued to feel around and found a wall to her left, deciding to stay there until a light could be found. Rothstone opened the door a crack to see by and eventually found a silver candelabra, which he lighted with a match from his pocket before closing the door again.

  Laura did not move during this process, wondering if he was going to leave her now. After he had lit the candles, he put his hands on his hips and surveyed the room. There were crates stacked along the far wall, and top-to-bottom shelves filled with all sorts of trays, cloths, and serving utensils dominating the other. Eventually, Laura said, "Thank you, Lord Rothstone. I believe I can handle it from here."

  His eyes returned to her form, his brows in a frown. "I'm not leaving you here unattended," he announced.

  Laura scoffed. "And why not?" she protested. "I'm perfectly able to find my way back down one hallway, Sir."

  "It's not that. This is a staff room, Lady Parrington," he explained impatiently. "One of the footmen or champagne servers could come in at any moment, and there is no lock on the door. So I will stand guard while you put yourself to rights," he explained in a pragmatic voice that annoyed Laura to no end.

  "No, you will not," Laura argued firmly, glaring.

  He simply began whistling, put his hands in his pockets, and moseyed his way over to a stack of wine cases and sat down on one, facing away from her.

  Laura huffed. "Oh, fine, you cad. I cannot believe this," she continued muttering, reaching up to re-fasten the clasp on her dress. Unfortunately, it became apparent after a few moments of struggling that there was no way she could reach the clasp by herself. Growing more agitated by the second, she attempted several flexible maneuvers to reach the blasted closure, but to no avail. Taking several deep breaths to compose herself, Laura prepared to do something she never would have allowed herself to think about doing ten minutes ago.

  "Lord Rothstone," she called, her voice high and formal.

  His whistling stopped. "Yes?"

  Laura steeled herself and closed her eyes, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. "It appears I have need of your assistance," she ground out.

  "Oh?"

  He sounded much too pleased.

  "I cannot reach the clasp to reclose my dress properly. I know this is highly irregular, but I would be very grateful if you could...re-fasten my dress," she finished, her cheeks burning in mortification. When her eyes opened, she found him staring at her in bemused silence, still sitting on the crate of wine. "Well?" she asked impatiently, planting her hands on her hips.

  As if burned by the wooden crate, he leaped up and began to cross the room towards her. "Yes, of course, Miss Parrrington." His voice sounded a bit strangled.

  He was moving much too quickly. Laura automatically took a step back. Her heart leapt as he neared and stood towering over her. Those eyes of his...There was no denying she was attracted to this man, wanted him in a way she didn't understand. The way he had kissed her, held her, made her legs feel as though they were melting now as she remembered it. But that didn't mean she had to like him or succumb to his sneaky courtship ideas.

  She cleared her throat. "No funny business," she ordered, her voice a little less firm than she would have liked. She didn't want to expose her corset to him, but there really was no choice now. Swallowing, she turned away from him and tried to keep her legs from shaking. Exhaling, she prepared for his laughter. His scoff. Anything. But he did not say a word or touch her at all. The silence lengthened, causing her heartbeat to steadily rise. She did not have the courage to look behind her. Her breathing grew shallow and rapid. What was he-?

  A whisper of a touch on her neck almost made Laura jump out of her skin. Two warm, bare fingers came to rest near the back of her earlobe and slid slowly from the nape of her neck to down between her shoulder blades. A rush of breath escaped her at the contact. All of the hairs on her neck and arms stood on end from the tingling sensation of his gentle course over her skin. His fingers fanned out and traced her shoulder as his other hand came up to alight upon her upper arm. He was barely touching her, his hands mere tickles of sensation on her bare skin.

  "Laura," Rothstone breathed, his mouth very near her ear.

  His breathing was strained and quick, causing a deep-seated spiral of need to work its way down Laura's body. She didn't know what to do, whether she should move or say something to put a stop to the intense feeling of forbidden pleasure coursing through her. Even if she had wanted it to stop, she wasn't sure she could hav
e done anything at all, what with the effort it was taking her to simply remain standing and not melt into a puddle on the floor.

  Laura felt him bury his face in her updone hair while his hands roamed freely over the bared skin of her shoulders and neck. She let a tiny moan escape, its sensual sound surprising her. How was this happening? Why was she letting it continue when she knew it was a terrible mistake? If anyone were to come into the room, she would be ruined forever. These things ran through her mind, but it was as if the better part of her were under some sort of spell that wouldn't let her care about the consequences, only about the heady sensations making their way through her veins and muscles and down to her very bones. Laura didn't understand how his touch could make her feel both powerful and overcome at the same time. Like her every cell was being taken over by someone else, and yet she had never been more alive, more in control of her own fate.

  His breathing grew more ragged as his fingertips rubbed across her back, lower and lower until he encountered her stomach corset. Laura had never wanted to be free of the confining thing more in her entire life. She wanted his hands to continue going wherever they had been heading. She didn’t know what he would do next, which made his every touch more shockingly sensitive.

  "You have no idea what you do to me," Rothstone whispered. "Every day, every hour, every second, I want you," he told her, his hands spanning her waist and wrapping around to her quivering stomach.

  Laura's breathing hitched. "I.... might want you too." The words came from somewhere she couldn't control, almost like someone else was saying them. Why would she say that? She didn't even like him! He infuriated her at every opportunity, but it seemed that none of that mattered now. All that mattered was that he keep doing what he was doing. At the moment, she couldn't even remember why she had any objection at all to him.

  Rothstone let out a low growl. "You shouldn't say that. I can barely control myself around you as it is. If you stop resisting me, what will happen then?" he finished softly, and his teeth found her earlobe from behind as his hands tightened around her waist.