From the Viscount With Love

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  How the current Viscount Chillton feels about the issue is moot, I am also informed. According to my exclusive source - who spoke on the condition of complete anonymity, of course! - I am told that, given the viscount's numerous transgressions over the years that have embarrassed the family to no end, his mother will not allow the turning away of an unfortunate relative to become yet another black mark against his name.

  Now if she could only somehow prevent him from seeking his pleasure with the members of the demimonde rather than properly courting a young lady of some station...

  -Madame C

  "Did you sleep well last night, Lavinia?"

  Beside her in the modiste's shop, Lady Sarah Tillsbury was studying Lavinia as if she knew the other woman's every deepest, darkest secret. But that was not possible, as Frost had departed Lavinia's room shortly before one o'clock in the morning, just after the hallway candles had been doused, to ensure that no one saw him creep back to his own room. At least, she assumed no one saw him. But perhaps his sister had. Sarah was far more perceptive than her brother gave her credit for being - and far more much like his mother than he realized.

  Ostensibly, Lavinia and Sarah were supposed to be selecting trim for four of Lavinia's newly ordered gowns and two of Sarah's, while Lady Chillton, Dory and Aurelia perused fabrics for a riding habit for Lavinia, at least one new pelisse for Dory, and some undergarments for Aurelia. Instead, however, Lavinia and Sarah found themselves chatting about nothing in particular and occasionally studying a pre-made wedding gown that was on display in the far corner of the shop as a sample of what the modiste in question was capable of creating with unlimited time and resources at her disposal. At least they assumed it was meant to be a wedding gown. It was far too embellished and ornate to be a mere evening frock.

  "I slept very well," Lavinia finally offered softly, not wishing to draw any more attention to herself than she already had. The way the shop girls at Madame LaVallier's had fawned over her the moment the Tillsbury women had entered had been embarrassing enough - something that Lavinia personally held that morning's edition of the Town Tattler responsible for. "Much better than I expected really, it being a new house and all." And much better than she had imagined she might after Frost's nocturnal visit. Not to mention his scorching kisses that had left her longing for more than a few bites of passion and desiring very little sleep.

  Nodding in agreement, Sarah fingered a bit of velvet ribbon, her eyes darting about the shop and coming to rest every so often in a far corner that held a small cluster of patrons. The other woman had been distracted all morning, ever since the Chillton carriage had departed Grovesnor Square with the five ladies inside. The ride in the coach had been something of a tight fit and at first, Lavinia though that Sarah in particular might have resented her presence during the already planned family outing. Except that now, Lavinia did not think that was the case at all.

  "When we journey to Hallowby Grange, our family's country seat, each summer, I find that I am much the same way." Sarah now moved on to fingering a piece of lace, this time her eyes taking on a rather distant quality, and Lavinia could not help but think that the young woman was imagining a time and place very different from this one. "The trip takes several days, and I do not sleep more than few moments at the coaching inns we stop at during the journey. I find the bed too unfamiliar, the pillows, if I use them at all, too different. Not uncomfortable precisely. Merely different. I am pleased to learn that I am not alone in that peculiarity."

  "No, indeed. You are not." Of course, Lavinia would never admit that she had lain in places a proper lady like Sarah would have never even imagined. "I think that all of us ladies are a bit choosy about where we pass the night." She had been once, though no longer.

  For some reason, that made Sarah frown, though she did her best to hide the expression from her mother and sisters who had moved closer to the duo, allowing only Lavinia to see her displeasure. "Or not choosy enough in some cases, I am afraid."

  A bolt of real fear shot through Lavinia, but she did her best to remain calm. Surely Sarah did not know about her past. Did she? Was that the reason for the other woman's odd mood? Oh, Lavinia prayed that was not the case! Yet she had to know for certain. "I am afraid that I do not take your meaning." Or rather, Lavinia was afraid that Sarah did and was horrified that she had been found out as a harlot so quickly.

  Instead, Sarah nodded to an overly made-up woman studying a selection of pre-made undergarments - the same general direction where her eyes had been darting earlier. Even from this distance, Lavinia knew immediately that the other woman was some wealthy man's mistress. And she had the impression that Sarah knew the man who was likely the other woman's keeper. Or had been her keeper, as the woman in question was clearly in search of fresh prey if she was looking at so scandalous of undergarments. They were of the sort one might find in Lycosura and not a lady's dressing chamber.

  Sarah scowled again. "That is Miss Marietta Crestwood, a noted Cyprian. She throws lavish parties at her town home on the far side of Hyde Park. Rumor has it they are quite scandalous." Then Sarah's expression darkened even further until she looked very much like an angry, vengeful goddess. "She has also been the mistress of several wealthy and powerful men over the years."

  "Would one of those men happen to be Lord Raynecourt?" When Sarah blinked in surprise, Lavinia simply smiled and patted the woman's arm gently. "I saw how you smiled when you laid eyes upon him in your brother's study yesterday. There was a light about you that was not present when you first opened the door."

  A pretty blush crept up Sarah's cheeks and she shifted nervously. "Am I that obvious?"

  "Only to me," Lavinia sighed, afraid that in trying to help the other woman, she had revealed too much of herself. "I spent several years attempting to fend off the advances of men I found...distasteful. I quickly learned what love, rather than simply lust, looked like. Now, I find that I rather easily recognize true attraction and affection when I see it. I fear it is a terrible habit of mine to speak my mind on the subject as well." That was the truth, even though she had omitted most of the salacious and uncomfortable details.

  "I am not in love with Lord Raynecourt," Sarah protested quietly, clearly afraid her mother would overhear. Except that her mother was currently arguing with Madame LaVallier herself over something and was unlikely to notice her daughter's comments. "It is just not the done thing to desire your brother's best friend. They are forbidden." She toyed with the tassel on her reticule. "As are sisters to best friends."

  Lavinia risked revealing a little more of herself, allowing her guard down for but a moment to offer the other woman some advice. "I do not think we get to choose who we love, Sarah. We might be forced to wed where are not so inclined, but as for love? That is something our hearts decide for us. Not our heads. Or our families."

  It was a lesson Lavinia had seen played out repeatedly over the years at her grandfather's castle. She watched people fall in love before being pulled apart, wedding elsewhere as dictated by duty or for family alliance, wealth and power. She also knew that many times, love did not recognize societal boundaries. Or even common sense. It certainly had not in her mother's case. But then, that was not love, so perhaps that was a poor example to use.

  And Lavinia was the one left to pay the price for her mother's foolish sins, even the ones made out of love. Or what had been believed to be love. Now, she could only pray that Sarah and her sisters never guessed the real truth about her past, for she was coming to like all of the Tillsbury women very much in only a very short time. Even Lady Chillton. She despaired of the thought of any of them growing to hate and revile her, should they ever lean the truth.

  That morning, all three of the Tillsbury sisters had guessed a small part of the truth about Lavinia. Or at least the truth as dictated by their mother the viscountess. The young women now believed Lavinia to be a long-lost relative who had been about to be sold to a brothel by a greedy cousin. She had only been rescued when
an kindly neighbor had discovered the nefarious plot and secreted Lavinia away to her distant relatives in the south, hoping to appeal to the family's generous nature and inability to turn away family.

  That was close enough to the truth that both Lavinia and Frost - not to mention Lady Chillton - had quickly acknowledged it thus. For some reason, that had given the sisters, Sarah in particular, leave to relax a bit more around Lavinia, thinking her to be truly family and not a stranger. For Lavinia's part, she found that she was strangely enjoying her time in their presence. Having never had sisters, it was a unique experience.

  That was why Lavinia offered her counsel to Sarah. She was taking so very much from this family that she felt as if she should give something back, even if it was merely observations about life and love to the one Tillsbury sister who seemed most in need of the assistance.

  "I have known Rayne since I was a child," Sarah finally confessed after a few more moments of useless glowering in Miss Crestwood's direction, "but recently at a ball, he treated me as...something more. For the first time, I saw him not as Rayne, but as a man. And a very handsome one at that." She paused and touched her fingertips lightly to her breast. "I felt something in here that was...peculiar. And I must confess. I liked it. Perhaps more than I should have."

  "Then suddenly, it was as if the heavens opened and angels sang at the mere sight of him." Lavinia laughed and was gratified when Sarah did as well. That was precisely how it had been for Lavinia when she had first laid eyes upon Frost two nights pervious at Lycosura. She had the feeling it was much the same for Sarah and Rayne.

  Ducking her head a bit, Sarah blushed. "That is it precisely. Before, he was simply my brother's friend. Now...he is...not."

  "And Miss Crestwood?" Lavinia risked another look at the woman. She was beautiful, yes, but aging quickly. And it was plain to see from the lines on her face that all of her years as a kept woman were beginning to creep up on her. She was losing the blush of her youth. Had it not been for first the Marquess of Burfield and then Frost, that could have been Lavinia's fate as well, and she chilled a bit at the thought.

  Sarah lifted her chin defiantly. "He is no longer associated with her, but the arrangement did not end by her choice. It was his, and I believe that she was under the impression that he might one day marry her if no other viable options for matrimony ever appeared." She paused and drew in a shaky breath. "She also does not care for me very much, and never has. Even when she was with Rayne, she did not like our association, even though at the time, neither of us saw the other in a romantic light." It was clear that Sarah did not think much of the other woman, though whether it because Miss Crestwood was a kept, fallen woman or because she had been kept specifically by Rayne wasn't very clear. However, Lavinia suspected that it was the latter.

  Just then, Miss Crestwood, as if sensing someone was speaking about her, raised her head and Lavinia saw the malicious glint in the other woman's eyes. It was a look she recognized well from her brief time at Lycosura. There, the other women were always watching her, wondering what had made her so special that she had not been immediately deflowered by a rough coachman and put directly to work on her back. That was what Desponia had done with the other virgins she had acquired over the years. Even now, Lavinia was not certain why she had been treated differently, though she suspected that it was likely out of fear that the new Marquess of Burfield would come looking for Lavinia and would not have been pleased to find her already deflowered when he was seeking a virgin.

  After all, Desponia was, first and foremost, a business woman. And if she angered a powerful and possibly vengeful marquess, there might not be a business to run. The brothel owner had likely thought it best to hedge her bets and wait to see if Lavinia was being sought after by anyone powerful and important.

  Today, however, the nasty look was not directed at Lavinia, but rather at Sarah. And the woman who had delivered it had suddenly abandoned the scandalous corset she had been holding and was now sauntering directly towards the table with the laces and other trims. Beside Lavinia, Sarah shrank back a bit, clearly not as defiant as she had seemed to be earlier. Likely this was not her first encounter with Miss Crestwood, either. After all, Sarah had stated the other woman did not care for her. From the look upon Miss Crestwood's aging face, she still felt the same.

  There was a part of Lavinia that simply wanted to shrink back into the shadows and hide as well. The more she exposed herself to Society, the greater at risk she was of being discovered. On the other hand, she had been one step away from becoming a woman like Miss Crestwood. Or worse. If not for Frost.

  To Lavinia's way of thinking, she owned him for rescuing her - and more. She owned him her very life. He was the one who had risked everything to save a woman he did not know and most likely merely physically desired. They were not in love. And Lavinia was repaying his kindness and generosity by lying to him and refusing to reveal her past. Well, that could not be helped, but assisting in this situation was something that Lavinia could do and do well. She had the experience whereas Sarah did not. This was a battle Lavinia could fight. And likely win.

  Lavinia was no shy miss at heart and never had been. She had also lived for a month within the walls of Lycosura - a place this woman before her was unlikely to have ever ventured, despite her soiled reputation. Lavinia, for all of her fear of discovery, could finally be of some use to Frost and his family in exchange for all their generosity.

  "Well, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Miss Crestwood practically hissed as she drew close to where Lavinia and Sarah were standing, her too-tight claret-colored gown making her face appear to have an odd yellowish cast to it. That was not a good color for the unfortunate woman, and to make matters worse, the gown was already at least a season out of date. Miss Crestwood did not appear to be a fool and likely knew both of those things very well. Perhaps Rayne had withdrawn his support for the woman far earlier than Lavinia had realized. If that was the case, then good for him.

  "Lady Sarah. Still hoping to catch a certain earl's eye, I gather. Pity that it won't work. At least not for such a plain and drab creature like you." Miss Crestwood dipped a curtsey that was somehow both proper and yet insulting at the same time. Lavinia wanted to lash out immediately, but instead she held her tongue - for Sarah, if not for herself. "And I am sorry that I do not recognize your friend." Then another nasty smile, this one aimed at Lavinia. "And I do believe I know all of the proper women of the ton. Even the spinsters."

  The verbal barb was meant to wound, but having been called a slut and worse over the years, Lavinia simply smiled prettily. She could play this game, likely far better than this woman could. After all, she was a woman of two worlds. It was time to put the skills acquired in the world she wished to keep hidden to good use.

  "Nor do I know you, my lady." Lavinia kept her voice deliberately soft as she dropped into a proper curtsey. "My apologies that we have not yet been introduced. Especially to such a fetching woman as yourself. Is that gown new? For I fear I have not seen another like it since I have been in London." On the surface, the question was polite, but Lavinia could tell her barb hit its mark when the other woman's eyes grew wide and her nostrils flared most unbecomingly.

  Finally, Sarah found her voice. And her manners. "Miss Crestwood, this is Lady Lavinia Haverfield, a distant cousin of ours from the north country who has recently lost her father and is now living with us for a time." Haverfield was, of course, the family name of the current Lady Chillton's great-great grandmother who had, in fact, lived in Northumberland, near the Scottish border. Which was, of course, something that Miss Crestwood would likely already know. "Lady Lavinia, may I present Miss Marietta Crestwood." Sarah offered nothing else regarding the other woman. How could she? The assumption was that Lavinia was a lady and should not know of mistresses and such. Then again, neither should Sarah.

  "Ah, the long-lost Chillton family member mentioned in all of the gossip sheets this morning." Miss Crestwood looked at Lavinia differentl
y now, as if sizing up new competition. It was the same assessing gaze that the most senior prostitute at Lycosura, a woman nicknamed Hedone, had given Lavinia the first night she had entered the brothel's main parlor wearing a mask and not much more. "I assumed you would be...more elegant, I suppose."

  As far as insults went, it was a poor one, but it still stung. Lavinia had never dressed lavishly. Life at her grandfather's remote castle in Northumberland had not required it and, once she had run away, she had done everything within her power to blend into her background and not be noticed. Even the dress she wore today was a dusty light green that made her appear more like a shop girl than a lady.

  However, the words were also an insult that should have never been permitted. In fact, Miss Crestwood should never have even dared approach two ladies of quality, especially in Madame LaVallier's shop. But whether it was because Rayne had ended his association with the woman or perhaps because she was just feeling nasty, the woman had thrown propriety almost right out the window.

  Beside her, Sarah gave a gentle tug on Lavinia's sleeve, indicating that they should leave. Out of the corner of her eye, Lavinia could see Madame LaVallier herself scurrying over the three women, dodging shop girls and customers alike as she went. However, Lavinia refused to be cowed. She was a lady in name only, true, but Sarah was not. Sarah was a true diamond of the first water, and she should never have been insulted by a woman like Marietta Crestwood. But then, the world was an unjust place, as Lavinia well knew. Here, now, was a chance for her to not only right that injustice, but also give a little something back to Frost and his family. It was the least she could do.

  "I am sorry, Miss Crestwood," Lavinia snapped icily, doing her best to channel her mother's most frosty tone. "If you had, in fact, read the papers as you claim, you would know that I am only just out of mourning for my deceased father." In truth Lavinia did not know whether her father was dead or alive. The last she had seen of him, he had been in a week-long drunken haze and so incoherent that no one had been able to deal with him. "My apologies if I do not look as you believe a lady who has recently lost her last remaining parent should."