The Viscount's Vendetta (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic) (6 page)

* * * *

Caroline, Joan, and Sara, along with Mary for their chaperone, decided to visit the bookstore after the tea party. Lady Halsford waved them on and went directly home. After finding several books to read, Caroline invited her friends to follow her home for a cup of tea.

“Please.” Caroline persisted when Sara started to refuse.

“All right, but Mama will be upset if I do not arrive home soon. We’re to go to Grandmama’s for dinner before we go to the Monroes’ party,” Sara explained.

“I too have only a short time before my parents expect me home,” Joan added.

“I’ll go ahead and ask cook to serve the tea as soon as we arrive.” Caroline hurried to her carriage. She’d insisted because she wasn’t yet ready to be alone with her thoughts. She needed the comfort of her friends around her. When they arrived shortly after her, she led them into the back sitting room. Sunlight shone across the wood floors.

The tea arrived promptly and they’d barely taken the first sip when a housemaid knocked on the door and brought in a package.

“It’s addressed to me?”

“Yes, my lady.” The housemaid curtsied and left the room.

Sara leaned over to look at the writing. “Who sent you a gift?”

Caroline hesitated before opening the wrapping. The bold, dark letters made her think of the viscount. Surely he would not send her anything. Even if he had been out of the country, he must realize the impropriety of her accepting any type of gift from him.

“Open it,” Sara and Joan encouraged.

“I suppose I can always send it back.” She pulled the paper away and the girls gasped at the beautiful material and shawl enclosed.

“That is very expensive silk, and the cashmere shawl is exquisite,” Joan said.

Caroline’s hand caressed the soft material. The colors were her favorites. The cashmere shawl made a perfect accessory. When she pulled the paper further apart to lift out the material, a white card fell out. The same bold writing stood out on the cream-colored vellum.

“I hope you will enjoy my gift. I shall look forward to seeing you dressed in the silk. Damon, Lord Royston.”

She flung the card down. “He has to know it is not proper to send me a present.”

Sara took the card and read it. “You’ll have to return the package to him. What a shame to lose this beautiful silk. It would have made a gorgeous gown.”

Sara hugged Caroline. “I must go. It’s late. I see this is going to be an interesting courtship between you and the handsome viscount.”

“We are not courting.”

“Apparently he thinks you are,” Sara said, then laughed and waved as she went out the door.

Joan stood beside Caroline. “I must leave, too. Be careful, Caroline. I agree with you that something does not seem quite right. You must be wary of him.”

Caroline hugged Joan and walked with her to her carriage. When Joan had gone, Caroline went back to the sitting room.

She picked up the soft material. A part of her wanted very much to keep it. She envisioned the lovely gown she’d have it made into. She fantasized herself dancing the waltz with the viscount, her skirt flowing out around her, the soft material silky against her skin while his body sent sensual waves of heat burning through her. She shook her head, bringing herself out of her silly dream.

Whatever brought those thoughts into my head? I don’t even like Lord Royston.

The house was quiet. Her father must be out and her mother resting. She had time to return his gift in person and give him a piece of her mind. If anyone said anything about her going to his house, she would say she went to see his sister. What she planned to do was most improper, but her anger spurred her on.

Lord Royston’s butler looked sternly down his nose at Caroline. Even though she’d worn a very proper walking dress of dark-blue silk material trimmed in silver, and her silver and blue bonnet covered her golden hair, his expression clearly denoted disapproval. She had no companion or maid with her.

“May I help you, my lady?” he asked.

“I would like to see Lord Royston,” she said in a firm tone.

“Come in, please. I’ll announce you.”

Caroline stepped inside and waited as he walked down the corridor and knocked on a door. She glanced around the foyer. There were several small landscape paintings on the walls and a bowl of white roses on a Chippendale table. The furnishings were new and of the best quality.

“My lady.” The butler bowed and directed her to follow him. He opened the door he had previously entered and motioned for her to go in, then after announcing her, the door snapped firmly shut.

Damon stood in the shadows by the fireplace. The French windows were open to the garden where she heard birds chirping. She held the package in front of her, as though it could protect her from the look he sent her way.

“Ah, I see you are returning my gift. What a shame, but you did not have to bring it yourself,” Damon said sardonically.

She placed the package on his desk. “Yes, I did. You are certainly aware this is not proper. I don’t know what you think you are doing. I wanted to tell you, in person, to leave me alone.”

Caroline heard his chuckle and saw him move toward her. Panicked, she backed away. He looked at her intently as he approached. Her heartbeat quickened. He must not see her fear. She tilted her chin, squared her shoulders, and glared at him defiantly.

Damon’s eyes narrowed as he stopped right in front of her. “You will be mine…soon. Then, I shall return this gift to you.”

“I have no intention of marrying you!”

“Did I mention marriage?”

His hand reached out and pulled her against him. The other hand lifted her face to his.

“You want me as much as I want you. I can feel your body tremble.”

Damon’s lips brushed gently across hers, and then he crushed her mouth with his. Caroline tried to push away, but he held her close. When she started to yell, his tongue went into her mouth, caressing, touching, and pulling her into a whirlwind of emotions.

His hand on her back slid up and around to cup her breast, and his thumb brushed across her nipple. Even through her clothes the sensation took her breath. She gasped and shivered. Involuntarily, her hands reached up around his neck to touch his silky hair. She had become lost in a world unknown to her until this moment.

He reluctantly dragged his mouth away. His gaze captured hers and something intense flared in his eyes. “See how it will be between us. Nothing will keep me from claiming you.”

Stunned by her own behavior, Caroline put distance between them. She was breathless and her heart beat so rapidly she felt dizzy. She struggled to calm herself. How could she have behaved so improperly?

She turned and ran from the room and out the front door. After hurrying down the steps, she stopped and took a breath. Then she forced herself to stroll casually toward her carriage, parked on the corner of the next block.

Too late, she glanced around. If anyone had seen her rushing out of his house, she would be in serious danger of losing her reputation. How had she allowed her anger to override her upbringing and common sense? How dare him to insinuate that she’d be his? She was a lady, or had been until today and this disaster that she’d brought on herself.

Her stomach lurched at the thought of how easily a woman could lose her good name. She’d have no chance of a good marriage. Had he planned this, hoping she’d fall into his trap? Fear clawed at her throat. She’d never been so relieved to climb into her carriage and out of sight. Caroline hid in the corner and looked blindly out the window. All she saw was his face, and all she felt was the touch of his lips and hands on her body.

* * * *

“Caroline,” her mother called.

“What, Mama?”

“Are you not ready to go?” her mother asked as she came into Caroline’s room. “We are due at the Monroes’ in half an hour?”

Caroline frowned. “I have a terrible headache, Mama. I don’t believe I can go.”

“You are never sick. What is the matter with you?” She reached out and touched Caroline’s face.

“I told you, Mama, I have a headache.”

“Does this have anything to do with the attention Lord Royston has shown you? He’s certainly an eligible bachelor. I have difficulty understanding the instant dislike you’ve taken toward him. You cannot let him deter you from your outings. Besides, for some reason your papa does not want him for a son-in-law, so you have no need to be concerned.”

“But…” Caroline tried to talk, but her mother was determined.

“No excuses. You do not have a fever, get dressed. Earlier in the day you were fine. If you have a little headache now, I’m sure it will go away soon.”

Very shortly Caroline found herself at the Monroes’. She positioned herself in the back of the music room to listen to Catherine Monroe play the pianoforte. The evening promised to be uneventful, as neither Lord Royston, nor his friend Rook, were at the party. Sarah and Joan sat beside her.

“I don’t know why I care. Rook never pays any attention to me, but the room seems empty without him,” Sarah said.

Caroline and Joan smiled at her. “You really are quite attracted to him,” Joan said, squeezing her friend’s hand. “You’d do better to forget him and try and find someone else who would make a more agreeable and pleasant husband.”

“You mean a husband you can control, Joan,” Caroline teased.

“It may seem silly to you, but remember when married, the husband owns everything and has complete control of your life. I have no intention of letting someone command me or my finances.”

“She’s right, Caroline. You’d lose control of your inheritance if you married,” Sara warned.

“Not to worry. I have no plans to let anyone have that much reign over my life, no matter how handsome he is.”

“So you admit Lord Royston is good looking?” Joan asked.

“I never said he wasn’t, Joan. I am just not enamored of him.”

“Watch what you say, there he is,” Sara whispered.

Caroline turned in the direction where Sara was staring. He was dressed in black with a silver vest. His white shirt had lace at the cuffs. His neck cloth arranged in one of the more elaborate designs. He looked striking and dangerous. He lifted the lorgnette in his hand and surveyed the room. His eyes stopped and speared her with his glance.

It’s just like him to carry a lorgnette for effect. He certainly doesn’t need it here.
She flushed and turned her head away, then fanned her red cheeks.

“He came late enough. I don’t see his sister with him.” Joan glanced at Caroline. “He really upsets you. I’ve never seen a man put you so out of sorts.”

Caroline took a deep breath and turned her attention back to the front of the room. Everyone was clapping as Catherine Monroe finished playing. Thank goodness no one seemed to be watching her except for her two close friends.

Seeing him brought back her visit to his house earlier today. A trip she’d been trying desperately to forget. Had anyone seen her unladylike exit from his home? It would not do to have gossip start about them. Under those circumstances, her father might consider the viscount an appropriate suitor.

* * * *

Damon chuckled when she turned away. Caroline had been in his thoughts all day. He’d laughed when she ran. You may run, my beauty, but I will win. He ached with the pain of wanting to join his body with hers. She’d been soft, warm, and very responsive.

He noticed her father heading to a room on the right side of the corridor. There was probably a game of cards to play. He would wait. He wanted the final coup de grâce to come at White’s. The same place his father had met his ultimate financial ruin.

Strolling around the outer wall of the room, he nodded to several men he had met recently at Jackson’s boxing rooms. In fact, he had bested two of the men, knocking them out of the ring quickly.

Damon was almost to Caroline when a woman stepped into his path. Her almond-shaped green eyes and dark-red hair caught his attention. A shapely mouth pouted up at him.

“I wish to be introduced to the most handsome man in the room. Arthur”—she pulled the man who’d been standing at her side, over to them—“introduce us.”

“Really, Marguerite, this is not the proper way to be introduced. Excuse my sister, my lord. I am afraid I do not have your acquaintance.”

Damon bowed. “Damon Royston. I’ve been away from England for some time.”

“Ah, yes. Our father mentioned you the other day. He said you were a fine businessman and had a good head on your shoulders, which is high praise from old Dad. I’m Arthur Thomlin, and this is my sister, Lady Marguerite Ferrier. Our father is Joseph Thomlin.”

Damon shook his hand and bowed to his sister. “I remember meeting your father.”

He studied the brother and sister. There were family resemblances. The brother’s hair was auburn, and he was about an inch shorter than Damon. His attire was definitely appropriate, not at all out of the ordinary. Whereas his sister, Lady Ferrier, wore a green gown that hugged her curves and set off her dark-red hair. She was striking in appearance. Her green eyes flashed at him.