Capturing the Viscount (Rakes and Roses Book 1)

by Win Hollows

  A groan escaped her. What should she do now? Ask for it back? She let out a laugh. Yes, that would go over well, she was sure. He was probably keeping it as leverage to force her into whatever scheme he had planned.

  But there was another question that wracked her mind- What could that picture possibly contain? She had moved well before the image had completed, thanks to his interruption. It was probably just blurry shapes and trees. There might be an image of her sitting on the bench though, if the shopkeeper had recognized her from it. That could be damaging if anyone were to see it. Yes, he certainly had leverage at this point.

  There was nothing for it. She most definitely had to get that photograph back. Her mind began to whirl with possible scenarios of how to do that. She knew he was staying at his family's residence here in Mayfair. It was only a few blocks away, in fact. She could see if her mother would take her along on her visit to her friend, Lady Rothstone. But then her mother would expect her to stay with her and chitchat with the Duchess. No, that wouldn't work. She would have to be more subversive than that if she was going to have time to search for her photograph. Who knows how long that would take? She had no idea where he would keep it, but it was probably somewhere private, like his bedroom. Laura groaned aloud. It was most certainly beyond the pale for an unmarried miss to enter a man's bedchamber without his permission and root around in his belongings. But what choice did she have? She couldn't let him keep the dratted thing. He was the sort of man who would use whatever was at his disposal to get what he wanted.

  She needed to enlist Gia in her plot. She knew how to keep a secret, and she was the only one Laura trusted to help her get out of this unholy mess.

  "No," said Gia forcefully, rising from the chaise in Laura's family drawing room. "No, no, no. I won't do it."

  Laura rubbed the sleep from her eyes. The clock ticking on the mantle said it was after eleven in the morning, but she hadn't been able to fall asleep for hours after she had awoken the night before. After going around in circles trying to think of another way, she had still come to the same conclusion: she needed a co-conspirator.

  "Gia, please. I can't do it without you. I need you to distract Lady Rothstone." She watched her friend pace the room, arms crossed.

  "And what if it's not Lady Rothstone? What if it's a butler? Or the Duke? Or Remington Rothstone himself?" she demanded, throwing her arms out for emphasis.

  "It won't be any of the men of the household. They never come out during visiting hours, you know that. It will be Lady Rothstone or a servant, and either one will work fine. I just need you to make conversation while I pretend to go to the powder room."

  Gia groaned and flopped down into a chintz chair across from her. "This isn't a good idea, and you know it."

  "So does that mean you'll do it?" Laura smiled sunnily.

  "I'm sure I'll regret it, but yes." She slumped farther down in the chair, resting her arms on the sides. "Besides, I can't afford to say no, as you're my sole source of entertainment lately."

  Laura grinned. "See? Everything will be fine. It'll be a lark, and nothing will go wrong."

  "Let's hope you're right."

  Everything was going wrong.

  They had been admitted into the Rothstone household without issue, but Lady Rothstone was taking forever to come down to the front parlor, and Laura had become impatient. She had left Gia alone to face the Duchess while she pretended to find the ladies' room. Gia had had to convince the butler that Laura knew her way around the house, having been there before, and that she really wanted to know his opinion of gold versus silver dining ware for formal occasions. After a lengthy discussion on the matter and still no Lady Rosthstone, a housemaid had finally interrupted and whispered something in the butler's ear.

  The wizened old man turned to Gia. "Erm, excuse me, Miss Hammond, but Her Grace isn't feeling well today and would much prefer it if you came back tomorrow to visit. She is very sorry to have kept you waiting."

  Gia swallowed. "Oh, that's quite alright, Levens. We are sorry to have bothered her unannounced. I'll just go collect my companion and we will be on our way." Gia thought fast, revising their plan. "I know where the powder room is, so no need to escort me. My apologies for having troubled you, Sir."

  The butler looked relieved. He smiled kindly. "Not at all, Miss Hammond. I trust you will have a lovely afternoon." He bowed formally and ushered her through the door and into the foyer, where Gia sauntered off in the direction of the ladies' room. She couldn't remember exactly which door it was, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was that she wasn't looking for the ladies' room at all. She had to find Laura, who was probably in Remington Rothstone's bedroom about now. Gia walked to the end of the hallway, looked to make sure she wasn't being watched, and then ducked onto the servants' stairs that led to the upper rooms.

  Laura had found the right room after a quick perusal of two other large bedrooms in the east wing. She knew it was his because it wasn't the master suite and his scent, like pine and rich sandalwood, filled the space, and upon opening the armoire in the corner, she found several men's evening jackets of Remington's style hanging there. She began her search in the bedside table drawer, and when she didn't find anything there, moved on to the writing desk near the door. She rifled through the top two drawers of the escritoire and was beginning to get irritated that she hadn't found it yet when Gia went scurrying past the doorway. She doubled back and rushed into the room.

  "Oh, thank goodness. We have to go now," she declared, grabbing Laura's arm and pulling her towards the doorway.

  Laura pulled out of her grasp. "No, I haven't found it yet."

  "The Duchess is sick, and she never came down. The butler thinks we're in the powder room!" Gia made another grasp for her.

  Laura danced out of her reach. "I'll never get another chance, Gia! I have to look around a little bit more." She went back to pulling open the drawers of the desk.

  Gia looked towards the door. "Oh, alright, but hurry up!"

  "You finish looking in here, and I'll go check the armoire." Laura told her, striding toward the opposite corner of the room.

  Gia growled and began to rummage through a stack of papers and folder jackets.

  Laura had just begun searching the drawer at the bottom of the armoire when the creak of an expensive oak floorboard could be heard coming from down the hall outside. Laura spun around and met Gia's eyes, which were as round as saucers. Laura made a decision quickly and turned, stepping into the armoire. She was pulling the doors shut when Gia hissed, "Let me in!"

  "It won't fit both of us," Laura protested, attempting to pull the door closed while Gia still pulled. Footsteps could now be heard coming closer.

  Finally, Gia gave up. "I hate you so much!" she whispered frantically, and Laura could hear her move away. She couldn't see anything from where she was, and she wondered if Gia had found a hiding place.

  Laura heard the footsteps cease, and then:

  "Miss Hammond, is that you?" Lady Rothstone's voice was perplexed.

  "Y-your Grace," Gia stuttered. "How n-nice to see you."

  "Yes, you as well." She sniffed, and Laura could hear she had a head cold from the nasal quality of her voice. "What are you doing in Remington's room?" Her tone was not accusatory, merely confused.

  "Er...Well...I was...I'm just..."

  Laura rooted Gia on in her head. Come on, Gia, think of something!

  "I..." She heard Gia take a deep breath, one that meant she was straightening up to her full, regal height. "I'm in love with your son, Madam," she announced.

  Laura smacked her forehead with her palm.

  "Oh." The surprise in her voice was unmistakable. There was silence for another moment.

  "Yes. I was...coming here to leave a note stating my affection for him."

  Laura shook her head.

  "Alright." the Duchess drew out the word. "Erm. Well, have you left it yet?"

  "What?"

  "The note, Dear."

&nbs
p; "Oh. Um, no, not yet. I...have to write it still."

  The Duchess seemed to be pondering this. "Well, though I have to say this could have been better planned on your part, I do admire your courage in stating your feelings." She stopped speaking to let out a tiny sneeze.

  "Bless you," Laura said automatically, and then covered her mouth in horror.

  "What was that?"

  "I-I said, God bless you, Your Grace," Gia said hurriedly.

  "Oh, I could have sworn... It must be this sickness. I'm not my best at the moment." She sniffed again.

  "I understand, Your Grace. So sorry to have disturbed you today."

  "Quite alright," she said dismissively. "How long have you been harboring this affection for Remington, if I may?"

  Laura could could Gia's audible gulp. "Ummm...Not too long. Quite recently."

  "Hmm. I had no idea. Did you meet recently then?"

  "N-not exactly." A short silence. "In fact, you might say he doesn't even know I exist."

  "Oh, you poor thing."

  Laura rolled her eyes. Oh yes, poor Gia.

  "Carry on, then," the Duchess announced.

  There was a pause. Then Gia inquired hesitantly, "Excuse me, Madam?"

  "I said, do carry on. My son could do a lot worse than you, Miss Hammond." Another sniff. "I've always thought you were quite charming. And my grandchildren would be just beautiful."

  A long pause. "Thank you, You Grace." Gia said quietly. Laura smiled. Because she had been snubbed so many times in the recent past, hearing a duchess say that she wouldn't mind having her for a daughter-in-law had to be very heartening.

  "I'm going back to my room now. My head feels like a team of four is using it as a race track. I hope to see you sometime soon, dear. Don't be a stranger."

  "Thank you, Lady Rothstone. I won't."

  Laura heard the Duchess pad out of the room, sniffling as she went. She burst out of the closet and locked eyes with Gia before letting out a breath she didn't know she was holding.

  "I can't believe you let that happen to me!" Gia hissed, slapping Laura on her shoulder.

  "Well," Laura said with a grin, "Are you going to write that note, then?"

  "Oh, stop it." Gia crossed her arms. "That was a disaster."

  Laura cleared her throat. "I have to agree with you there. Now Remington's mother thinks that you've set your cap for him."

  "And I'm going to be even more of a pariah once she finds out it was a ruse! This is even worse than before!"

  "We'll figure that out later. Now we need to get out of here." Laura poked her head out into the hallway.

  "Easy for you to say," Gia grumbled.

  "And I didn't even find the photo plate," she complained quietly, heading out into the hall with Gia behind her.

  "No one cares anymore!"

  Laura raised a brow and said pointedly, "Easy for you to say."

  Chapter 8

  Rem was confused. At breakfast, his mother had been asking him a lot of pointed questions concerning a lady named Georgiana Hammond. He knew who she was, vaguely, but his mother didn't usually suggest specific women to him, as she knew it would only further encourage him to stay away from the young misses. But she had made an exception today, hinting at odd things, like whether or not he knew the lady, while in the same breath asking if he had had a chance to reorganize his desk recently. Needless to say, he had eaten as hastily as possible and bolted out the door while she was consulting with the head housekeeper about something.

  Once on the street, he didn't have anywhere in particular he needed to go, but he hailed a hackney anyways and made for White's. He might as well have a drink and read the paper somewhere in peace. When he pulled up to the establishment, there was a group of men milling around outside, looking irritable. Rem hopped out onto the sidewalk, and as he came closer, he recognized some of them. He paid the hackney driver, and then made his way over to the throng of about six gentlemen.

  "Hello, boys," he greeted them.

  Several turned toward him with mumbled greetings.

  "Hullo Rem," a voice said to his left.

  "Tris," Rem turned, his friend's golden hair shining in the morning sun. "What's all this about? Why isn't everyone inside?" He indicated the embellished facade of the building.

  "Closed today. They had some leakage from that bit of rain a couple of days ago and had to make repairs. No one's quite sure what to do now." He smiled in amusement.

  "Hm. I suppose I don't either," Rem confessed. He hadn't made any solid plans for the day since he was caught up on all estate business for the moment, although he had thought to visit Scotland Yard and see if they had made any progress on identifying Laura's shooter. It had been two days since she had been injured in the park, and he hadn't heard anything in the rumor mills about who the gun-toting idiot was. Perhaps the police had been able to find out something, and he had to know who had hurt her. It was a primal instinct that drove him to protect what he knew was his. Laura was his. She just didn't know it yet.

  “Where’s Craigerton? Haven’t seen him around lately,” Rem commented, scanning the heads of the blokes around them.

  “You know, I was just saying that to Farleigh the other day,” Tris piped. “How much do you want to put down he’s with a new…friend? I know he was looking for a replacement of his last one. Threw her over a few months ago. Apparently, she got in the family way- and not from our boy.” He waggled his brows.

  Rem’s lips firmed into a tight line. He had seen Craigerton pursuing Laura at her coming-out. Though he knew it happened all the time, he was suddenly livid at the fact that a man would pursue a respectable and innocent miss while at the same time breaking in a new mistress.

  Noticing Rem’s expression, Tris laughed and clapped him on the back. “Don’t look so put out. Wasn’t your mistress too, was she?”

  Rem schooled his features and smiled. “No, I’m not a fan of the flesh-for-farthings arrangement.”

  “No, I don’t suppose you ever were,” Tris said thoughtfully. “What about horseflesh?”

  “What?” Rem’s brain struggled to change subjects. Trent was like that, his mind always running a mile a minute. Not many suspected that the carefree buck had anything deeper going on than thoughts of his next conquest, but Rem knew better. Tristan had taken first in every subject at Eton and Cambridge, though he’d never admit it to anyone who didn’t already know.

  "Some of us were discussing going to Arberley's for a look at his new racehorse. You should come along."

  Rem's lips twisted. He had never particularly liked Arberley. He had been a year behind Rem at Oxford, and had never quite outgrown the petty need to subversively one-up everyone around him. He was not loud about it, simply obnoxious. If someone had said they were going to meet a girl, Arberley would shrug and say he had two women waiting for him at the local tavern. If someone boasted about a hunting expedition, Arberley would casually mention he had bagged more game than they on his last trip home. And if one of Rem's friends happened to let slip their interest in a particular lady, Arberley would quickly make it his mission to ruin the lady in private, just so the other man would know he had been there first. It had always been some sort of twisted game for him, making sure that his contemporaries understood he was going to win, no matter the consequences to others. Unfortunately, many of their classmates had come to think of him as a sort of role model, but Rem had always sensed an unhealthy obsession in the man and had avoided him if at all possible.

  "I think I'll pass," he told Tris, taking a cheroot from the inside pocket of his coat. Tris produced a match and lit it for him. Rem nodded his thanks.

  "I know the feeling. But," he clapped Rem on the shoulder. "I've nothing better to do, and this lot will be bored to tears without me. So I feel it's my societal duty to accompany them."

  Rem grinned. "I'm sure that's how they see it too."

  "Course it is." Tris lit his own cigar and blew a stream of sweet smoke out between his lips. "What's in store
for you then?"

  "Not sure as yet," Rem replied truthfully. They both paused as the group of men near them laughed at some joke.

  "I hear you've been mooning over that girl what got you in trouble a couple of weeks ago." His eyes twinkled.

  "Con told you that, did he?" It was more of a statement that a question.

  "Don't blame the chap. I'm irresistible. What's the chit's name? Pearon or something."

  Rem took a drag on his cheroot and blew out slowly, the habit calming him. "Parrington. Laura Parrington." Just saying her name made his heart beat a little faster.

  "Ah. You're not going to get yourself leg-shackled, are you? Because if there ever was a marrying type, it's a girl like her."

  Rem looked down and smiled. His friend certainly wasn't ready to take the plunge yet. He had no doubt that someday, however, Tris would find himself in exactly the position Rem himself was in: Stopping at nothing to get leg-shackled. "I'm afraid it has come to that, my friend. There's nothing for it. She's the only thing I can think about these days, it seems"

  "Humph. Sounds like a disease to me." Tris stomped out his cheroot on the ground, leading Rem to do the same.

  "Don't tell me you've never had the feeling that nothing else matters until you can have that one woman. I seem to recall a great number of women you’ve dallied with over the years." Rem looked over at his friend.

  Tris smiled sheepishly. "True, but it was more the chase, the anticipation with those. Once I had them, it didn't quite live up to my expectations."

  "Perhaps that's your problem. 'It' was what you were really after, not the lady herself." Rem took a step away from Tris, watching his face as he puzzled through it.

  "You know, I think you're right." he said thoughtfully. "Demn me, Rem, when did you get all philosophical?"

  "It's this disease," Rem replied with a grin, beginning to stroll away down the sidewalk.

  Tris laughed. "I just hope it isn't catching," he called.