Scarlet Kisses

by Tish Westwood

  Dedication

  To my amazing family, Mum, Dad, Nick, Sam and AJ. You guys are unreal.

  Chapter One

  Year 1843

  “You are a good, respectable and proper woman,” Travis Potting said as he sat before Alyssum in the front parlor of her family’s country estate. His hands were folded tightly in his lap and his brow sweat in nervousness. “That is why it is difficult for me to tell you…” He squeezed his hands tighter. “I will be unable to go forth with this courtship.”

  Alyssum sat quietly on her chair as she listened to Mr. Potting’s announcement. Her hands that had been lying in her lap were now clutched together. This was not happening. Travis was supposed to marry her. They were supposed to live a quiet, simple life in his vicarage. That was how she had wanted it. That was what she had planned. Quiet and simple. Now it was all ruined.

  “May I ask why?” she asked, her polite smile still frozen on her lips.

  “I have fallen in love with another,” he announced with a rise of his pointed chin.

  “Who?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  Travis shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Miss Clarice Weathers.”

  “Miss Weathers?” Alyssum repeated breathlessly. She could picture her now. Long, curling blonde hair, baby-blue eyes, voluptuous figure and big bouncing breasts. At eighteen and just revealed by low-cut gowns, she was the toast of the county and men now flocked to her. They reminded her of a coop of chickens pecking, and Clarice was the bucket of feed.

  While Alyssum usually stood with her sister or her mother, Miss Clarice Weathers was always found jumping around on the dance floor and twittering like a bird.

  “I had no idea. Does Miss Weathers feel the same way about you?” she asked.

  “Well…yes. I mean…we haven’t spoken of our feelings…yet. But I believe she does, yes,” he stuttered out.

  “Then I wish you both all the happiness in the world.” Alyssum managed a brighter smile.

  “I’m so glad you understand,” Travis sighed, his relief obvious. “Well, I must be leaving.” He stood and Alyssum followed suit. They bowed and curtseyed to one another.

  “I’ll let myself out.”

  “Good day, Mr. Potting.”

  “And to you.” He nodded before leaving the parlor.

  Alyssum stared after him, watching the empty doorway. She sighed deeply. Now who was she going to marry? At twenty-two she was beginning to worry she would become a spinster. She didn’t want to be a lonely, old spinster. She wanted a husband and a house and children. How would she ever get them if nobody would marry her? Travis Potting was a sweet man, a man of God. He would have made her a suitable husband and given her the things she craved. She may not love him, but they would have been content together.

  “Meg?” Alyssum looked over to the young maid sitting in the corner quietly.

  “Yes, miss?”

  “Please don’t speak of this until I have spoken to my mother.”

  “Yes, miss.” She nodded.

  Alyssum walked from the room. Entering the foyer, she saw a man standing with his back to her. Her heart hit the wall of her chest and her belly fluttered. She exhaled, annoyed with her reaction to this man.

  “Viscount Lambert,” Alyssum greeted him with a blasé attitude.

  Turning quickly when his name was called, Robert looked to Alyssum and gave her a bright smile that had broken so many debutant hearts. With disheveled brown hair, a constant gleam of mischief in his brown eyes and an askew cravat, he was judged to be one of the most reckless and daring man of the ton.

  “Alyssum.” He gave her an exaggerated bow. With one arm out to the side, he gave her a sweeping bow then swung back straight. She returned his bow with a small, quick curtsy.

  “As always, a pleasure to see you,” he said as he continued smiling at her, but now the smile had turned more into a grin in her judgment. Did the man ever not have that wicked glint in his eyes?

  The untidiness of his cravat grated her teeth. After a quick glance to make sure there were no servants about, she stormed over to him. His grin flashed brighter as she approached. He chuckled as she grabbed his coats lapels and made him bend down to her. She unraveled his cravat then retied it quickly and efficiently. She stepped back and surveyed the straight cravat with approval.

  “Couldn’t keep your hands off me, could you?” he murmured.

  She met his gaze and jerked backwards when she found them standing so close. She could see the gold flakes in his brown eyes. She took another step back, placing the proper distance between them.

  “Are you waiting for Harry?” she asked, changing the topic hurriedly as she noticed the folder in his hand.

  “Yes,” he replied. “And how many times must I tell you to call me Robert?” He took a step forward, breaking the appropriate distance between them.

  “It would not be proper,” she replied, and took a step back.

  “But we’ve known each other since we were kids. I live next door. We used to throw mud at each other.”

  Alyssum shifted her gaze around the empty foyer.

  “Ah, wouldn’t want someone to hear you used to have fun,” he whispered.

  “I still have fun,” she snapped and turned her gaze back to his.

  “Really? What was the last fun thing you did?” He folded his arms over his chest and waited for her answer.

  “Well…” she trailed off with a slight frown. She couldn’t think of anything off the top of her head.

  “And so help me God, if you say embroidering…” He closed his eyes and looked as if he were in pain.

  “It can be fun,” she snapped.

  Robert chuckled and shook his head. “Tsk, tsk. What am I going to do with you, Alyssum?”

  “You’re not going to do anything with my sister,” a firm voice broke in.

  Robert and Alyssum turned their gazes over to Harry, who stood before his open study door.

  “Please?” Robert beseeched, his eyes playful.

  Harry glared at him then looked over to Alyssum. “Is Mr. Potting gone?”

  “Mr. Potting?” Robert looked back to Alyssum. “Really?” He arched a brow incredulously.

  Ignoring Robert, Alyssum kept her gaze on Harry. “Yes, he left,” she told her brother.

  “He didn’t…” Harry looked at her expectantly.

  “No, and he will not.”

  Harry gave her sympathetic look.

  “You wanted to marry Travis Potting, the vicar?” Robert cried out with a look of horror on his face.

  Alyssum looked back to him with irritation. “Good day, Viscount Lambert,” she snipped out.

  His grin came back and he gave her another exaggerated bow. “Alyssum.”

  “It’s Lady Rosewood to you,” Harry said.

  “I don’t call women I’ve swum naked with by their titles,” Robert informed them.

  Harry groaned while Alyssum made a noise of outrage.

  “I have never,” she exclaimed with her cheeks flushed red.

  “You have.” Robert smiled wickedly.

  “I was young, and I always wore my shift.”

  “The shift was white and you were wet. I’ve seen you naked,” he whispered the last bit.

  Harry stalked over to Robert, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanked him away from Alyssum and pulled him into his office.

  Shutting his office door with a loud bang, Harry then shoved Robert further into the room.

  “Why?” Harry asked as he sat down behind his desk. “Why do you have to torment my sister?”

  “It’s so much fun.” Robert dropped the folder onto the table then sat and perched his feet onto Harry’s desk. “I love making the prim and proper squirm and blush.” He grinned like th
e devil he was.

  “That fact wouldn’t have anything to do with why the Earl of Blackmore glares at you every time he sees you, would it?” He pushed Robert’s feet off his desk.

  “Yes, it does,” Robert announced proudly. “I told his daughter how the French kiss.”

  “Told not taught?” Harry arched brow.

  “She’s a debutant,” Robert said, as if that explained everything. Which it did. Robert would never mix with a debutant unless he wanted to get married, which he didn’t. Not for at least another ten years, and only because he needed an heir. He was only twenty-eight. He had plenty of time until he had to chain himself down.

  “All right, down to business.” Harry leaned forward and opened the folder Robert had brought.

  “All right.” Robert sighed and also leaned forward. He always came to Harry, his best friend since childhood, for business matters. He knew his endless supply of family fortune was still rising with the help of Harry. Without Harry sitting on his shoulder, being his guardian angel, he would have gambled and whored it all away when his old man died ten years ago. When that joyous occasion had finally come, Robert had burned his father’s office to a crisp, with the help of a certain person. Luckily, the servants were quick or they may have accidentally burned the whole house down.

  “That man!” Alyssum huffed in anger as she paced the carpeted floor of her sister’s room.

  “You shouldn’t let him get to you this way,” Violet said from the window seat, a book in her lap.

  “I have fun,” Alyssum snapped and turned to Violet. “Right?” she asked, unsure.

  “Of course you have fun.”

  “Yes. You’re right, I do have fun. I am a fun person.” She began pacing again.

  Violet gave a small shake of her head and turned her attention back to the book of poetry on her lap.

  “I can’t think of anything.” Alyssum stopped pacing and faced Violet again.

  “Pardon?”

  “I can’t think of anything fun I’ve done lately.”

  “What about your gardening?” Violet volunteered.

  Alyssum tilted her head to the side. “I guess I enjoy it. But I wouldn’t say it’s fun.”

  “Well, who cares what Robert thinks?”

  “Robert?” Alyssum raised her eyebrows to Violet.

  Violet shifted in her seat. “Well, we did grow up together. I’ve known him all my life.”

  “But it’s not proper.”

  Violet rolled her eyes.

  “Violet Rosewood.” Alyssum placed her hands on her slender hips. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

  Violet opened her mouth to protest when Jasmine, the youngest Rosewood sibling, ran into the room and slammed the door shut behind her. Panting for breath with her long black hair falling about her shoulders wildly, she gasped, “Help me. Hide me from Mother.”

  “What have you done now, Jaz?” Violet asked.

  “Nothing.” She tried looking innocent.

  “Jasmine Rosewood,” Alyssum spoke with authority.

  “Yes, Alyssum Rosewood,” Jaz mocked her and hopped onto the bed with a bounce.

  Violet hid her smile behind her book.

  “What are we all doing?” Jaz asked.

  “Discussing the last fun thing we did,” Violet answered.

  “Oh, joy.” A knock came at the door and Jaz jumped from the bed in a flash.

  “Yes?” Violet called.

  “Violet, dear, is Jasmine in there?” Their mother’s voice was muffled through the door.

  “Yes, she is,” Violet called back.

  “Traitor,” Jaz whispered.

  The door swung open to reveal their mother. “Jasmine,” Caroline said disapprovingly with her gaze on her youngest.

  “It wasn’t me,” Jaz was quick to exclaim.

  “So you didn’t use a servant’s mattress to slide down the servants’ stairs?” their mother placed her hands on her hips. Her black hair and green eyes were identical to Jaz and Alyssum’s. Even at fifty, she still possessed the same beauty that had captured their father’s heart.

  “Perhaps,” Jaz drawled.

  “Your room, now.” Caroline pointed down the hall.

  Grudgingly complying with her mother’s order, Jasmine strode from the room, dragging her feet all the way.

  “I’m terrified of the day we introduce her into society,” Caroline spoke quietly.

  “Society already knows Jasmine,” Alyssum said.

  “Not in the ballrooms,” replied their mother.

  “Try not to worry,” Violet replied in her soothing voice. “She’s only sixteen. She’ll settle down.”

  “Perhaps in Paris?” their mother asked.

  Violet twisted her lips while Alyssum replied, “It would do her some good. Paris worked for me.”

  “Yes, it did.” Their mother smiled brightly. “I don’t think I would have survived another one of your pranks. I’ll talk to Jasmine.” There was a pause before she asked Alyssum, “How is Mr. Potting?”

  “In love,” Alyssum replied and then watched as her mother’s face lit up. “With Clarice Weathers,” she finished and watched her mother’s smile drop.

  “I’m so sorry, dear.” The countess walked forward and touched Alyssum’s arm gently. “I know how much you wanted to marry him.”

  Alyssum forced a smile. “I’ll find another.”

  With a smile to both her daughters, the countess left the room.

  “I’m sorry, Liss,” Violet said gently.

  Alyssum let her disappointment show as she dropped onto the window seat beside Violet.

  “Now you’ll have to go to London with the rest of us and go through another season,” Violet said.

  With a groan, Alyssum slouched into the cushioned seat in a very unladylike manner. She was tired. Tired of London, tired of society, tired of searching for a husband. Tired of her boring life

  “Robert’s right,” she whispered.

  Violet’s eyes widened slightly at hearing Alyssum call Viscount Lambert by his first name.

  Alyssum shook her head. “I don’t have fun.”

  “Well, then go have fun,” Violet urged.

  “How?”

  “If you want advice on fun, I know the perfect person to ask.” Violet arched a brow.

  Alyssum smiled, knowing who just that person was.

  “What do you think?” Violet asked Jaz as they stood in her bedroom.

  “Well, I think a lot of things, but right now I’m wondering how you unlocked my door?” she asked with a curious expression as she sat on the edge of her bed. She had been trying to pick the lock for three minutes with not an ounce of success. Her mother currently held the key in her pocket.

  “I picked the lock,” Violet replied.

  “How?” Jaz asked and leaned forward in her attempt to hear the secret.

  “I’ll teach you how to pick the lock if you give us your opinion on the matter at hand.”

  “Right, right,” she muttered and leaned back. “Alyssum?”

  “Yes?” Alyssum replied cautiously as she stood beside Violet.

  “You are salvable.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “What kind of fun are you looking for?” Jaz linked her fingers and leaned her chin on them.

  Alyssum shook her head, not knowing.

  “Do you want to have fun in the country or in London?”

  “Both would be nice,” Alyssum replied. “I want to be like I used to be,” she said sadly, remembering her mischievous days. She had been just like Jaz. Well, not quite like Jaz. Jaz was a whole new level of naughty for an innocent.

  “Well, I can fix that,” Jaz announced.

  “Really? How?” Alyssum arched a brow.

  “I will tell you, only if you do one thing for me.”

  “What is it?”

  “Convince Mother not to send me to that school in Paris,” she pleaded.

  “Jaz, you were caught kissing the footman last week,” Violet said as
she strode over to a chair by the wall and sat down.

  “And?” Jaz raised her brows.

  Violet shook her head disapprovingly. “That man now has no job because of you.”

  Jaz turned her gaze to Alyssum with a look that said she didn’t understand the problem.

  Alyssum shook her head and waved her hand. “I’ll talk to Mother, but I can’t guarantee anything.”

  “Fair enough.” Jaz relaxed back on her bed. “I know something fun you can do in London.” She arched her brow as if daring Alyssum to ask.

  “What is it?” Alyssum asked cautiously.

  “Are you prepared to be naughty?” Jaz asked with that smile that usually got her locked in her room.

  Alyssum looked to Violet for advice. Violet shrugged.

  “Let’s hear it,” Alyssum answered. “How bad can it be?”

  “That’s it.” Harry leaned back in his chair. They had finally finished going through all of Robert’s papers.

  Robert sighed and also leaned back in his chair. “Are you coming to London?” he asked.

  Harry groaned. “I don’t want to, but I have to.”

  “Why?” Robert demanded. He hated that his best friend tortured himself for his family. Society was vain and shallow, and because of a thin white scar marking his face from a childhood fall, Harry had been called ugly on more than one occasion.

  “I have two sisters in society who need my watching,” Harry answered.

  “Violet and Alyssum, what trouble could they get into? They’re the most sensible ladies I know.”

  “Compared to the other ladies you know, my sisters are saints,” Harry replied dryly.

  “Yes, they are.”

  “Are you still with that woman?” Harry asked Robert out of curiosity.

  “Which one?”

  Harry rolled his eyes and tried not to laugh. “The actress with red hair.”

  “Oh,” Robert sighed, remembering faintly. “No,” he shook his head. “She got clingy. Eck.” He leaned forward and crossed his arms on Harry’s desk.

  “Do you remember her name?” Harry asked for a laugh. He smiled as he watched Robert try to remember the woman’s name. Robert wore a frown as his eyes moved back and forth as if looking through an invisible filling cabinet. Eventually the frown smoothed away and he smiled.