Captivated by the Viscount (The Captivating Debutantes Series Book 1) (2 page)

“When the
dogs make a mess, someone else always has to clear it up…..usually the footman,
but you see the point don’t you?” Aunt Augusta

Christ, what
an utter mess, why did I ever think this was a good idea Jasper thought to
himself. He sat back in a large armchair in the warm study. A miniature of a
young man smiled out at him from the desk, a wicked twinkle in his eye. Jasper
wouldn’t have been surprised if the miniature didn’t wink at him, his younger
brother had always liked women far too much and he would have heartily approved
of the luscious little bundle upstairs. That had been Simon’s downfall though,
easily pleased, easily cajoled and ultimately easily led.

“Hold that
thought,” Jasper said to himself with resolve. The girl, like Bill said, would
be fine. She would only be here for a little while and then he could let her
go. Physically she would be unharmed, reputation wise….…No, Jasper argued with
himself he was actually doing her a favour.

Jasper poured
himself a liberal whisky and sat back to enjoy the peaty, but highly illegal
taste. After a few moments of enjoying the fiery trail of liquor down his
throat, his thoughts unwillingly turned negative. He reflected back to the most
awful time in his life. He had thought fighting in Spain against Napoleon’s
troops to be the worst nightmare. He’d taken a bullet in his right thigh during
the siege of Ciudad Rodrigo, and after recovering resigned his commission. His
reasons for resigning had been twofold. Although he’d no limp his leg had
pained him and become a liability in conflict, but moreover, although he
believed in the ideals of the war the sacking and looting that had taken place
after the siege had appalled him. And so he returned home. He’d returned to
discover his younger brother dead for nigh on a year and his father lying
nearly lifeless from an apoplexy. A dispatch had been sent by his father with
the news but Jasper had never received it. Most likely it was lying in some
Spanish ditch somewhere. His father’s last ever words to Jasper rotting away.

His father never
regained consciousness. Never able to see his eldest son return from war and to
hear Jasper’s plea for forgiveness – he should have stayed at home.

His brother,
he had discovered from various sources had died in an opium den by the docks.
Even now he could never imagine Simon in one of those places. They were
relatively small in number and were mainly visited by sailors; they were not a
place you accidently stumbled into. To Jasper they were the retreat of the desperate
and the needy who sought oblivion from life. Simon had been the opposite; life
had delighted him at every gradation. However, Jasper did know the man who had
accompanied Simon that night…and left him there.

Sir Richard
Lazenby.

Oh, Jasper
was sure the man hadn’t dragged Simon there as his brother had always had the
curiosity of a cat. However the tales he had heard of Lazenby’s cajoling,
Lazenby’s use of his brother’s name and money and Lazenby’s desertion of his
brother when he had fallen ill had made Jasper want to learn more of the man.

Jasper leant
forward and tipped more whisky into his glass. The colour reminded him of Lucy’s
hair. Previously he had only seen it confined and tortured into ringlets and
chignons. Tonight it had been gloriously free, a thick riot of tumbling waves.
Although dark in the chamber the lamp had lit her hair into a thousand different
colours. Too much whisky, Jasper mused was making him a romantic, when the only
hard fact to remember was that Lucy was Lazenby’s sister.

Three months
ago he honestly had no idea what he was to do. Jasper had ingratiated himself
into Richard’s circle needing to know more. It hadn’t been hard, a viscount was
always welcome and Jasper pretended he had no notion of his younger brother’s
friendship. May haps, he would find Lazenby to be merely a hapless, drunken
sot. Instead he found a very clever man, manipulating his circle with
deviousness and cunning. Money seemed to always flow his way, whether in cards
or wagering, names were used to open exclusive doors and women were chased,
used and discarded.

When Jasper
had begged his father to be able to go and fight against Bonaparte, despite
being the eldest son, he had said he’d felt the need to protect the innocent
from the French. However in hindsight it was his family at home that had needed
protecting from the insidiousness of vice that was Richard Lazenby.

It was at the
beginning of the season that he had met Eloise Hamilton, a widow whom had been
one of the women discarded by Lazenby. She had wanted to hurt the man for
humiliating her, and although he found her reason for vengeance rather trifling
she did know Lazenby and his habits well. Jasper hadn’t had a clear idea of a
plan other than to watch, to absorb, to wait. Eloise on the other hand had
known that Lazenby was hoping for a rich cully of a husband for his sister Lucy
and together they formulated plans for revenge.

However,
plans can go awry as Jasper had learned in the army, and so they did. The idea
seemed simple enough. He was to court Lucy, persuade her to run away to Gretna Green with him – she had seemed malleable enough, but then abandon her before the
wedding. Three or four days alone with him in a carriage would be enough –
hell, one hour was enough but he liked to be thorough.

She would be
ruined.

The
humiliated Lazenby would be left without hoped-for funds and an unmarriageable
sister. The Danbury name would be tarnished but he truthfully didn’t give a
damn. The plan wasn’t honourable and it wasn’t moral, but Jasper had learned
you had to fight ‘like with like’ on occasion. The only principle he had forced
upon himself is that he would not corrupt Lucy’s innocence. Her life amongst
the Ton may be over, but she would remain untouched.

However the
cunning Lazenby had outmanoeuvred them all. Despite Jasper’s attentions to Lucy,
the bastard had brokered a deal with the godforsaken Duke of Ketridge for Lucy’s
hand. Jasper had changed the plan. It still wasn’t honourable, but he felt a
certain justification that he was also saving Lucy from the scheming of her
brother.

Then there
was the problem of Lucy herself.

Jasper took
another sip of whisky before letting his mind mull on Lucy. He had expected a
manipulative harpy as she was Lazenby’s sister, but she was in marked contrast,
sweet, oh so sweet. An innocence seemingly untarnished by her brother’s
machinations. She was slightly shy as he remembered her downcast eyes, but
equally she met his conversation with so much humour and intelligence, and her
lips…they were always curving into a ready smile, which made him feel… she made
him feel light-hearted damn it, and he had not felt that way for far too long.
They had discussed books, the theatre, always finding a common thread between
them.

She was a
pretty girl with a calm face surrounded by a head of honey coloured hair. Large
blue eyes dominated and he wagered no one could deny an appeal from them. She
always smelt of…jasmine. It was quite an exotic scent for a debutante and he
always wanted to bury his nose in her neck, breathe in the sweet essence on
her. Her figure was damn near perfect; the current waif fashion did nothing to
arouse him, but Lucy. Lucy was slender in the waist but full on the hips and
breast. Jasper tried to repeat his vow not to touch her in his head but instead
he thought of her as he had seen her in the bedchamber above. Lying out like
some sacrifice on the bed, even in her unconscious state he had wanted to
pounce on the offering like a lion on the doe. He had wanted to devour, to
consume.

Instead he
had merely lightly touched her neck, her forehead and he had been so very
tempted...so tempted he hadn’t even heard Bill arrive with the bloody water.

He wished at
that moment that she wasn’t Lazenby’s sister. But then he also wished he had
come back home to his brother’s laughter and his father’s gruffness. Someone
had to destroy Richard Lazenby’s life and unfortunately Lucy was the device
with which he would do it. He had to remind himself again and again that she
was merely a tool, a sweet tool, but a tool nonetheless.

Jasper closed
his eyes, the whisky was finally taking effect, his last thoughts were of Lucy,
imagining her tied to a rock like a sacrificial Andromeda, and he wondered if
he was the sea monster or Perseus?

►▼◄

As soon as
the men were gone, Lucy stirred herself. Why the devil would Lord Danbury
kidnap her? Jasper! Lucy felt like screaming…loudly. He had seemed so
thoughtful, so, so kind. She revelled in his company and thought he did the
same. Was he using her? And to what end! She had no dowry that a man might
kidnap a bride for, and surely she was too plain to be kidnapped for more
nefarious reasons. Still at least he was more solicitous to her needs than the
other big oaf. His kindness had also been in her favour, as not only had he
untied her hands but they had also left the door unlocked, supposing her dead
to the world. She needed to escape the house, its owner, and find help.

Lucy waited until
the corridors fell silent.

The damn door
creaked as she opened it, not surprisingly thought Lucy, considering the
general feel of neglect around the place. She crept down the hallway, thankful
someone had left a candle burning in a lamp on the side table. Pictures of
dusty relatives flanked the walls, their eyes seemingly disapproving of her
flight to freedom. If they could talk she was sure they would be shouting of
her escape. At the end of the hallway she spied stairs and on the wall was a
portrait of a young man. Rather than a disapproving stare he had an impish grin
and a devilish twinkle in his eye, seemingly enjoying the whole situation.

“It’s not
amusing,” Lucy whispered to the portrait, “at least you could let me know which
stair tread creaks.” The portrait didn’t deign to answer but continued to look
amused. Lucy glared at him and started down the stairs.

She was doing
quite well until the second to last step, the board groaned loudly in suffering
as though her weight was nearly its undoing, Lucy stopped and quietly slid to
the side of the stairs, hidden in the shadows, she waited to see if anyone had
heard her.

►▼◄

Jasper awoke
from his doze suddenly. His thoughts felt confused until he looked round and
realised where he was. In the study, in Danbury Manor, warm and slightly foxed.
All in all a nice state to be in.

Then he
remembered everything else that was happening and his senses suddenly came
alert. What had made that noise? He had a few servants at the moment but only
the essentials and of course Bill. He had eaten dinner that night at the early
country hour, and afterwards Bill had headed to the local tavern. Jasper had
informed Robinson the butler to place a supper tray in the study and that he
had no more need of anyone else tonight. Everyone should have gone their
different ways by now.

Except, that is,
maybe for one person, as he now suddenly couldn’t remember locking Lucy’s door.
Surely she would not have awakened so quickly he thought looking at the clock
on the mantelpiece, only a few hours or so had passed by since he had been in
her bedchamber.

He rose from
the comfortable chair, and opened the study door, peering into the darkness.
There was a lonely candle lamp in the main hall but shadows clung to every nook
and cranny making it impossible to see anything clearly. He shook his head, too
much whisky. He should stick to brandy except he felt decidedly unpatriotic
feeding the French coffers by drinking the stuff. He turned when a flash of
something on the stairs caught his eye.

“Lucy, is
that you?”

Lucy cursed
under her breath. Her skirt had been sticking out so she’d tried to
surreptitiously pull it back. Not surreptitiously enough it seemed. She kept
quiet; perhaps the man had a cat and would think it was slinking around on the
stairs. Jasper stepped forward and his face was lit up by the candlelight.

“Lucy, come
out from the stairs,” Jasper said.

Drat, no cat
obviously and he wasn’t going away. Lucy stepped out from the shadows and saw a
look of relief on Jasper’s face.

“You’re
feeling better Lucy? I hope your head is not paining you too much. I expect you
have some questions for me?”

“Some! That
doesn’t come close Lord Danbury. And you may call me Miss Lazenby,” Lucy
retorted.

“You don’t
seem surprised to see me…..Lucy.” Jasper replied silkily.

Lucy bit her
lip; she wasn’t going to let on that she’d been awake upstairs.

“I saw you as
you came out of the study ‘tis all and I am shocked. Although you are a friend
of my brothers so any debauchery should come as no surprise. Is this some kind
of bet?”

“Debauchery,”
Jasper whispered slowly, his voice low and husky. The way he said the word made
her shiver. “Where ever did you get that idea?”

Lucy felt
decidedly uncomfortable and decided attack was the best defence.

“A man
rendered me unconsciousness, and I awaken up here Lord Danbury, perhaps you could
clarify the situation then?”

A frown
appeared on Jasper’s brow at the reference to her attack, hah so he should feel
remorse thought Lucy as she reached up and fingered the knot on the back of her
head.

“That was
regrettable Lucy; I can only beg your forgiveness. I was told you fought
admirably, perhaps we should have sent you to face Napoleon’s troops.” He
smiled.

“Don’t give
me that flim flam Lord Danbury,” Lucy said getting annoyed. Good grief he may
be handsome in his flowery apology but compliments like that were just beyond
the pale considering the day she’d had. “I’m hungry, I’m tired and I wish to go
home.”

Jasper
frowned again as Lucy rejected his pretty apology. He’d always considered Lucy
a sweet shy girl but she was showing a side to her personality he hadn’t
previously seen. Unfortunately considering he was using her he liked it, he
liked it a lot. Trying to suppress a grin he replied “That’s not possible, but
I do have some repast in the study, and then you may rest.”