A Viscount of Mystery

by Bethany M. Sefchick

  "Marc." Her near-breathless voice was thick with an emotion she dared not examine too closely. "Are you...? That is to say, do you...?" For the first time in her life, she was embarrassed around her old friend. Then again, this was the first time she had felt this particular part of him in such close proximity to her person.

  "Yes, Caro," he admitted with only a hint of humor and he tightened his grip on her, fixing her body more firmly against his. Allowing her to feel the entire long and hard length of him. "I want you. Very much."

  Turning in his arms, she looked up at him with wide eyes. She needed to push him away this very instant, to make him believe that this was a horrible mistake. No matter that her body clearly thought otherwise. "No. This is not right. I am your friend and you need a wife. We cannot."

  "At this precise moment, my dear, I do not care, for I say that we can." His gaze was hungry on hers and she could see the way his eyes rested on her lips and then lower, taking in the slope of her breasts. Wanting. Needing. Desiring. She could see him mentally undressing her. She wanted it. Oh, how she wanted it. She wanted him.

  She wanted his lips on hers, the press of him against her, the feeling of his tongue darting out to tangle with hers. She wanted to taste him and discover if he was spicy, as she suspected, or if he was sweet and yet tart like the lemon drops she loved so much.

  There was a hunger growing inside of her for this man and she could no longer ignore it. At least not if she wanted to keep her sanity.

  For one glorious moment, Caroline's mind went blank and she tilted her head back in anticipation of Marcus' kiss. She felt his warm breath tickle her cheek as he drew her closer, the solid press of his chest against her breasts and the press of his hard cock into her softness of her body. To the precise place where they would fit together perfectly. The place where she could take him inside of her body and allow him to give her pleasure. She could imagine it, oh so vividly. And she wanted it with a raw hunger that terrified her.

  It was that last image that shocked her back to the present, especially when she realized just how close they were to the verge of disaster. His hands were beneath her gown, sliding up her silk stocking-clad legs. In a moment, he would have the fall of his trousers undone, pressing his erect cock inside of her. She had to put an end to this, for she feared that he was too far gone with desire to end this game himself.

  "No. Marcus, stop." She pressed against his chest and when that didn't work, beat her fists against the hard plane of his muscles. She did not hurt him; she could not. However she did snare his attention. She could see the desire in his eyes and much as it pained her, she knew she had to be the one to put a stop to this madness.

  "No?" There was a deep measure of hurt in his eyes, one she desperately wished to erase. "But you want this. So do I. I want you, Caro. All of you."

  Shaking her head, she pushed back against his embrace and, surprisingly, he let her go. She immediately felt cold, as if a part of her had been ripped away. "No, Marc. I don't. We are friends. Nothing more. I am a spinster and I allowed my physical needs to get away from me. That is all. It would have been the same had it been another man."

  That was all it took for Marcus' anger, which had been simmering just below the surface, to ignite once more. "Any other man, Caro?" he sneered at her, the icy wall of rage crashing back down again, effectively killing whatever passion had been simmering between them. "Like Candlewood? Or even Selby?"

  The idea of Caroline with another man made Marcus sick with jealousy. But clearly she felt him interchangeable with any other male body. Probably even his friends.

  "Marc, don't," she pleaded and he could see the look of contrition on her face, though it changed nothing. "Do not make this an ugly thing. We are friends. Or at least we were. But that is all. We were never meant to be lovers and we are both fooling ourselves to think otherwise. We are merely letting our physical needs drive something that we both know should not happen. You need to save yourself now for your wife. Becoming involved with me, even for a brief affair, would damage your chances of finding the kind of wife you desire."

  When she saw the look of raw pain mixed with pure rage cross his face, she wanted to take her words back, to pull him to her and tell him that she had not meant it. That she loved him more than her own life and would be his forever if only he would ask.

  She did not. Instead, she crossed her arms over her breasts and glared at him, praying her message was received.

  It was. Without another word, Marcus spun on his heel and stalked off into the night, his cane nowhere to be found and his limp more pronounced than ever. As was his anger.

  Chapter Five

  Society Tales

  It is rumored that one Lord M.C. has hastened his search for a lovely young thing to become his bride. Why? I can assure you that this author does not know, but can hazard a guess. After the health scare his family has endured as of late, it is quite clear that while time does go on forever, human lives do not. The future of two titles - not just one - is dependent upon the Viscount of Mystery making a successful match, something I do believe that he does not take lightly. As it should be, I think.

  To that end, the dashing man has been seen out and about around town quite often in recent evenings, from putting in an appearance at Lord and Lady R's fête to a night of quiet enjoyment at Almack's where he was seen in the company of Lady D.S. for much of the evening. Could a potential match be brewing between the two? They do make a striking couple and it has long been rumored that the lovely Lady D. longs for a man of both beauty and brains. The same could be said for many young ladies of the ton, could it not? Not that many would ever admit to such a thing, of course.

  Or is he favoring the much more sedate Lady J.A.? Though not quite so lovely, it was rumored that at one time, the handsome if somewhat removed Earl of C. was in pursuit of her also. Dare we, the unmarried ladies of society, hope that finally - finally! - the men have taken note of more than just beauty and are in search of a companion with a brain as well? One can only hope.

  - Lady X

  Caroline heard the whispers about Marcus and his search for a bride as she navigated her way out of the small retiring room at Lady Carlyle's annual Grand Summer Ball. Her work as Lady X to fan the flames of interest in Marcus seemed to be working as well as she could have hoped. So why did the idea of him finding a wife leave a sick feeling in the depths of her stomach? It was what she desired, after all. Was it not?

  Perhaps she had some bad kippers at breakfast, she decided as she waved at Lady Ursula Saintwood who was at that very moment having a maid repair the hem of a ghastly, over-decorated peacock blue gown. Though the color suited the matron, the entire thing was overdone with bows, ribbons, flounces, and lace, almost to the point of being gauche. If Caroline were a different sort of gossip columnist, one could be certain that the fashion atrocity would be remarked upon in the next morning's paper.

  However, Caroline was not that kind of gossip. She never had been and had no plans to do so now. She knew how words could hurt, having seen her friend Lady Jane savagely ravaged by other columns, including dubbing her "Plain Jane" and worse, essentially leaving her unmarriageable. All while celebrating Jane's half-sister Elizabeth, a beautiful but horribly spoiled chit that Caroline could not abide in the least. Rumors, lies, and unkind words, once spoken, could not be undone. The damage they wrought often could not be reversed. She refused to be a part of that sort of gossip.

  Caroline remembered well the rumors that had spread about her when she had reentered society only three years ago, how the dragons had tittered behind their fans, wondering what she had been doing for the three long years she had been in Northumbria. So far away, the vicious harpies had gossiped, so far removed from the proper and polite world. There was no telling what sort of depravity the sheltered daughter of an esteemed peer had indulged in, especially considering her uncle, the previous Lord Redwing, had died so scandalously. A duel. In public. Over a woman most considered a trollop of the
worst kind. There might also have been gambling debts involved. And some sort of forged document regarding property. Most shocking.

  Did Caroline know of her uncle's activities? Had she been a part of them? After all, she was somewhat of a hoyden, was she not? Being seen about with Lord Breckenright, Lord Candlewood, and their assorted friends so frequently. She had few female friends, after all. Not proper at all that so many men called upon her, even if she never precisely did anything scandalous. It simply appeared improper, especially to the matchmaking mamas who hoped to snare men like Marcus, Candlewood, Selby, Hathaway and the others as wealthy, titled husbands for their precious daughters.

  Caroline knew that it was only through the hard work of her cousin Norbert, who was now the new Viscount Redwing, and his wife Fanny, that her reputation had been salvaged. An effective gossip in her own right, Fanny was something of a marvel. She had secretly penned at least two Gothic novels - at least as far as anyone knew there were only two - but she also wrote a fashion column for The Ledger of London, a sort of daily scandal sheet and fashion guide that most of society read but few would admit to.

  Fanny knew the gossip columnist for The Ledger and made certain that well-placed on-dits appeared with some frequency, leaving no doubt that Caroline had both been in mourning for her beloved father but had also lived in an entirely separate wing of Dunlin Castle, the ancestral home of the Turner family, well away from whatever scandals her uncle was embroiling himself in.

  The ploy had worked and Caroline's reputation had survived and perhaps even improved a bit, the paper gracing her with the label of "The Woman of Mystery," which was quickly shortened to simply The Mystery. That connection had also spawned Caroline's own career as a gossip columnist.

  When the original columnist for The Ledger had decided to retire and focus on her family, no longer wanting to risk discovery, the woman - whom Caroline had never actually met - had approached Caroline via letter about taking over the writing of the gossip column.

  At first, Caroline had refused. It was not proper and she had just barely escaped a scandal that would have ruined her. Then, she remembered Norbert's dire words that the Redwing coffers were rather empty and that Turner-Carson House might have to be sacrificed to pay off some of Caroline's father's outstanding debts, ones that her uncle had blithely ignored during his brief reign as viscount.

  So it was with trembling hands that Caroline had penned her response, accepting the job offer but with her own conditions, ones she was under no illusion the paper would accept. She would write but under a new name and do things her own way, not using the column to viciously gossip about others as had been done to her and her friends, but rather to advance certain members of society, those who might otherwise be overlooked. And above all, whatever Caroline wrote would be the truth. It might not always be pleasant to read and it might be slightly embellished, but it would always and without question be the truth.

  Caroline had spent the previous four years of her life lying to just about everyone she came in contact with. She was not about to do so again.

  Now, with her affairs in order and her fortune steadily growing once more, Caroline was comfortable, if not completely secure. There was always the chance that someone, however unlikely, might find a way to connect her with Lady X. If that information was known, all she had worked so hard for would be lost and she would be cast out into the streets. Perhaps not literally, but socially, and that would be bad enough.

  She knew she was skirting dangerously close to discovery with all of her recent columns about Marcus but she could not help herself. She wanted to see him happy, despite their disagreement a few nights ago. It was her mission from now until the end of the season. She would find him a suitable wife whether he wanted her help or not. He had suffered so much and each time she thought of that last day in his bedchamber at Cheltenham House she wanted to cry.

  What if she had not been there? What if she had not essentially bullied Towson into allowing her to see Marcus? What if he had died?

  Still, he had not and she knew she had to push those thoughts aside. There was work to do and with Marcus being so horribly stubborn, she considered the possibility that she needed to change tactics a bit. However, she would find him a wife. Then, perhaps, she would seriously consider retiring as Lady X. She had been writing the column for nearly three years now and she was getting older. Her finances were a bit more secure. Perhaps it was time to pass on the column to someone new. Someone younger.

  She was still thinking the entire, frustrating situation over when she saw Lady Diana Saintwood conversing rather animatedly with Lady Eliza Deaver, the daughter of the Marquess of Framingham and Lady Sophia Reynolds, sister of the Duke of Hathaway. She did not know any of the women particularly well, but in that moment, she longed for some female company that might take her mind off of Marcus.

  Caroline also wanted to discover for herself if Lady Diana was as perfect of a match for Marcus as she appeared to be.

  Diana Saintwood was not a woman that Caroline would have immediately selected for Marcus' potential bride. At least not until she had seen them dancing at Almack's, their heads tilting towards each other as they conversed, their bodies a bit too close for propriety. Then, the more Caroline thought on the matter, the more she thought they might, in fact, be a perfect match. The very next day, under her guise as Lady X, Caroline had begun her campaign to match the two of them. Perhaps if Marcus saw that Lady X endorsed the union, he would up and marry Diana quickly and leave town.

  He did seem to listen to Lady X, after all, and that course of action would be best for everyone. Especially Caroline and her bruised heart.

  "Ladies." Caroline dipped a quick curtsey as they all technically ranked above her in status. "You are all looking rather lovely this evening." The praise was a bit effusive and more likely to come from a man, but she was desperate for some female company since Lady Jane was at the theater with her family that evening. "I saw Lady Sophia's gown from across the room and just had to remark upon it. It is lovely." The glittering silver creation was stunning, showcasing the younger woman to perfection, and reminding Caroline that if Lady Diana was not a suitable wife for Marcus, there were plenty of other young ladies about. The sister of a duke would do nicely as well.

  "Thank you." Lady Sophia dipped a quick curtsey in return, a rosy blush creeping up her pretty cheeks, reminding everyone of precisely how young she actually was. "It's a Madame LaVallier creation." She blushed again, this time all the way down her neck, clearly unused to such praise regarding her looks. "Terribly extravagant, I know, but I also know my brother hopes to see me married off soon."

  It was well known in society that Lord Adam Reynolds, the much sought after Duke of Hathaway, cared about very few things in this world. His sister, however, was one of them. It was also well known that he worried incessantly about her future and wanted her married to what he called a "right and proper" man as soon as possible so that no harm might befall her. What sort of harm he never said, but it was clear that he was worried about the possibility of something happening to his beloved sister. For one so young and beautiful - and presumably innocent - as Lady Sophia, it was certainly an issue, at least in Caroline's mind.

  "Pishaw!" That came from Lady Diana, much to Caroline's surprise. She had not known the other woman was quite so spirited. Diana might make a splendid match for Marcus after all. "You are only just out! Only one season behind you, and barely that since there are still a few weeks remaining. It is not as if you are on the shelf." Then something stole across Diana's eyes, a flash of something so brief that Caroline wasn't even certain she had seen it at all. "Your brother needs to concentrate more on his own marital status than yours."

  It was no secret that Lady Diana had formed something of a tendre for the duke long ago, though Caroline was not certain anything would come of it. From what little she knew of both of them, the duke was far too stuffy and Diana far too mischievous for the match to be a success. Then again, Di
ana could be proper and stuffy as well, at least when she wanted to be. Maybe there was a chance for that match after all, one that Lady X might need to champion. If Diana did not wed Marcus first, of course.

  "He does need a wife," Lady Eliza offered quietly, so quietly that Caroline had almost forgotten her presence until she had spoken. Of the women in the group, Eliza was by far the shyest, and, quite possibly a bluestocking, though Caroline did not know for certain. "Is he looking for one?" There was a note of hope in Eliza's voice, though Caroline did not see that match coming to fruition, either.

  "Not that I know of," Sophia offered quietly, her blush now fading a bit since all of the attention was no longer focused on her. "All he seems to care about is matching me with men I cannot abide." Now her voice was laced with a bit of clear disgust, presumably towards her older brother, much to Caroline's amusement.

  Normally, Caroline would be memorizing every nuance of the conversation for use in her column the next morning, but not this evening. She was tired of every part of her life being about gossip. Instead, she was genuinely paying attention to what the ladies were saying, being given a rare glimpse into the minds of the unmarried misses of the ton. Though she was unmarried as well, she would never find a husband and therefore, never marry. These ladies, on the other hand, most likely would.

  Caroline wanted to know how these women thought so that she knew how to best help Marcus. For despite what he had said the evening of Lady Julia's party, he had not seemed overly eager to meet any of the women both she and Lady X had been placing in his path. Granted, it had only been a week since that fateful night, but other than the single dance - and a quadrille at that - with Lady Diana at Almack's, Marcus had shown scant interest in truly courting any of the women Caroline thought might make him an excellent match.