Captivated by the Viscount (The Captivating Debutantes Series Book 1) (4 page)

The door
closed behind him, and Lucy suddenly felt rather like a small mouse opposite a
large and toothy cat. “Well, my dear,” Mrs Hamilton purred reclining back in
her chair. “And how are you doing? Poor child. Jasper has told me all about
your… well, your situation.”

“It is not to
my liking Mrs Hamilton, but it seems I have little choice in the matter.”

“Hmmm, Jasper
has spoken of you in the past few months. I hope you didn’t perceive his
attentions as anything but….friendly. He is so handsome and could make any girl
giddy.”

Lucy felt as
though she was stretched tight over a rack.

“I am
anything but a giddy girl Mrs Hamilton. I understand Jasper’s actions and am
thankful to him for his intervention.”

“Good, good.
In the evenings when Jasper and I were…together,” she said silkily, prolonging
the syllables in the word ‘together’ as though Lucy needed anymore reference to
her and Jasper’s relationship. Lucy wanted to be sick. “He would mention you
and your brother.” The woman hesitated, “How is your brother, child? I suppose
you are not best pleased with him at the moment?” Mrs Hamilton seemed to say
with glee.

Lucy felt
confused at the sudden change of questioning. Then she suddenly remembered
where she had seen the woman before.

“You were
Richard’s mistress,” she blurted out.

Mrs
Hamilton’s face toughened, her lips thinned and she set her wineglass down hard,
sloshing the red liquid over the table.

“Mistress? Is
that what the bastard said,” she screeched. “When did you see me with Richard?
He would never be seen with me except in bed.”

“You were in
a millinery shop on New Bond Street. I was walking with Richard and one of his
cronies, I overheard him boasting to the crony of …of…”

“Yes,
boasting of what...” she demanded.

“How willing
you were,” Lucy blurted out again, all serenity now gone.

“Son of a
bitch. I did everything for him. I was expecting to be the future Lady Lazenby,
but how did he repay me…with nothing,” she spat out the words making Lucy sit
back in her chair against the almost physical vehemence. “Well,” she continued
“we will have our revenge and you little girl are the pawn, and you can stop
giving sheep’s eyes to your precious Jasper as he’s just as - ”

The door
opened and Jasper entered. His eyes spun between Eloise’s aggressive face and Lucy’s
shocked one.

“Is
everything alright Ladies? Eloise? I hope you are behaving yourself in front of
our guest?” The words held warning that even Lucy could gauge.

Eloise
breathed deeply and then leaned back languidly in her chair, all hatred now
wiped from her face. “Just having a ladies’ chat darling, you know how it is
with us females.”

“No, not
really,” Jasper stated flatly.  “And I will be most unhappy if you have upset Lucy.”

“W…well,”
Eloise stuttered. She rose from the table elegantly, “I am quite tired from the
journey so I think I will retire.”

“Good idea
Eloise,” Jasper replied. Lucy could tell he was angry, even though he didn’t
know what had been said. Eloise sauntered gracefully from the room. However,
she seemed unable to leave without some kind of parting shot.

“I will see
you later then…Jasper,” she purred and closed the door.

Lucy also got
up. She had had enough tonight and just wanted to go to her room. “I will also retire
Lord Danbury.”

“Jasper,” he
said

“I beg you
pardon?” Lucy replied.

“You should
call me Jasper, considering…the close circumstances.”

Lucy just
stared at him and he shifted uncomfortably. “I hope Mrs Hamilton didn’t say
anything to upset you tonight. She is not quite herself. It must have been the
tiring journey.”

Lucy wanted
to laugh in his face, but merely felt too weary. “I’m sure she only spoke the
truth…Lord Danbury, good night.” Lucy left without looking round. Her only
thought was that when they were ‘occupied’ she would get out of this
place…tonight.

Jasper watched
Lucy almost run from the room and he rubbed his jaw. God, what a bloody mess. Lucy
was obviously upset and god knows what Eloise had said to her. Had she let Lucy
know of his revenge plan, or had she just been a catty bitch. He had no desire
to go and see her for answers or anything else.

He ran a
frustrated hand through his hair. When he’d lied to Lucy tonight about Eloise,
it was the first time he’d felt…shame. He’d tried to remember his brother and
all the reasons he was doing this but those damn blue eyes of hers had stared
at him, so wide. It was almost as if she knew that every word that tripped from
his tongue was a falsehood.

He felt
guilty tonight.

Guilty and a
goddamn coward for his treatment of Lucy. He strode to his sanctuary locked the
door and helped himself to more whisky.

►▼◄

“Blinky ran
away once. He came back for cheese. Everybody has their Achilles’ heel.” Aunt
Augusta.

Lucy lay back
on the bed fully dressed. She had asked the maid to simply unlace her evening
gown and then dismissed her. She’d changed into her old walking dress that she
had arrived in, although the lacings were still a little loose. Now she just made
plans in her head and waited for the house to sleep.

She thought
back to dear Aunt Augusta, whom she had been taken to at the tender age of five
years. Her aunt had taught her how to take care of herself but she honestly didn’t
think she could have ever imagined that Lucy would end up in a situation like
this. Memories of her came flooding back. She had died over a year ago and Lucy
missed her greatly. Kind and loving, she had been everything Lucy could have
wanted growing up. However her aunt had also been quite strict, stubborn and
fiercely independent, the latter a trait Lucy knew she had inherited. Her aunt
luckily had a private income from a modest estate in Scotland which after her
death had reverted back to Lucy’s maternal Scottish branch of the family. Her
other relations, still resided in Scotland and Lucy was sure she would be
welcome there, ruined or not.

At the time
of her Aunt Augusta’s death, her other aunt had asked if she wished to come to Scotland but Lucy had been anxious to see her brother Richard whom she had not seen since
she was five. He was officially her guardian now and Lucy had hoped they would
become close. Richard had agreed, and she also was to finally have a Season in London. Aunt Augusta had never been overly interested in that type of thing; more at home
with her dogs, horses and a varying menagerie of homeless animals and so Lucy’s
come-out had passed them by. Her aunt had once said that she preferred dogs to
people, they didn’t lie and they ate less. Lucy always thought that Aunt
Augusta may have had a disappointment in her youth.

Lucy went
through her options. She could not go back to her brother’s townhouse and she
had no money. She also wasn’t entirely sure of her location, but she knew
Jasper’s main country seat was only just outside London in Surrey, although she
had never before visited it. They could not have gone that far by coach the day
Bill had kidnapped her so she surmised it would be possible to get back to London fairly quickly – whether by horse or wagon.

The only
solution she could think of was to get to either Rosalind or Clara, the only
two serious friends she had made in London. Rosalind was twenty five, older than
Lucy by four years, but it was also her first season, and so they had formed a
close friendship. Rosalind was rather shy but had an uncanny knack of knowing
what was going on all the time – perhaps she was a secret eavesdropper as well.
The last time they had seen each other Rosalind had given her a small pocket
knife for her reticule, ‘just in case’ she had murmured. Unfortunately said
knife was in the reticule that she’d left in the carriage at the modiste that
fateful day.

Clara had a
sweet natured personality and wasn’t as shy as Rosalind - however in social
situations she did occasionally become awkward and clumsy. Clara, she
remembered would be at some dreadful house party this week hosted by the Earl
of Rookdean. The man was as handsome as sin with a reputation to match but Lucy
had never seen him smile and she prayed Clara didn’t bump (literally) into him
too often. Rosalind was her only hope then.

Lucy sighed,
if only she could turn back the clock. Why could Richard not have been the
loving brother she had hoped for? His selling of her, although a sudden shock
did not overtly surprise her. At the beginning she had thought they could
become friends. However she soon realised the error in this presumption.

When she had
first moved in with Richard it had been autumn and they had spent the time
rusticating at the family house in Kent. She had not actually seen him much, as
he was always ‘out’. He had treated her with a modicum of respect, but
sometimes when his gaze fell on her; she felt he almost…disliked her. When the
weather allowed they had come to London for the Season and his manner had
changed considerably.

She
remembered the awful events of the last time she had spoken to Richard – had it
really only been a week ago? She felt as though a year had passed in the last
days. She’d heard noises late at night and wondering what was going on, donned
a wrap and made her way downstairs. Richard had been in the hall. She’d thought
he was deeply cut. His eyes were glazed and he seemed incapable of taking his
jacket off. A sweet sickly smell had wafted from his person. She’d rushed over
to help him, but he turned before she got there.

“What are you
doing out of bed? Not meeting the footman for a quick tupping are you? Need you
pure, my little puss.” He had pinched her under the chin none too gently and Lucy’s
temper had snapped.

“You are a
drunken sot, Richard Lazenby. How dare you say such crude things to your sis…”
the rest of the tirade was cut off as her upper arms were grabbed by pinching
fingers and she was shaken back and forth violently.

“Shut up you
little bitch, you had it good for the past 15 years, now it’s my turn.” He’d
pushed her away with a violent shove sending her reeling into the small
sidetable in the hall. The thin spindle legs did not hold her driven weight and
the table collapsed. She felt her entire right side hit the floor with a
resounding thud, pieces of the broken table digging into her hip sharply.

Lucy clutched
her side and laid still. It was not in her nature to cower but nothing in her
life had prepared her for such violence. She heard Richard mumbling under his
breath and she watched out the corner of her eye as he dragged himself up the
stairs. Lucy had slowly risen, wincing at her bruised side.

Since then
her brother had avoided her and she had hoped it was only the drink that had
caused such violence. Maybe she shouldn’t have berated her brother for being so
ape-drunk but surely that didn’t deserve such a violent response. She sighed.
Everything was so much more complicated nowadays compared to her life in the
country with her aunt. ‘Everything changes,’ her aunt used to say. “Just not
always for the good aunt, not always for the good,” Lucy whispered to herself.

Finally she
got up from the bed and listened at the door. The whole house sounded quiet and
the mantelpiece clock told her it was approaching eleven.

Lucy donned
some sturdy boots and a thick cloak that she had found in the closet and opened
the door slowly. The candles had all been snuffed out in the hall so she took
her own with her to light her way. Thankfully, despite the house being
neglected, the candles were of the best quality beeswax and Lucy had felt no
qualms at keeping the light going with two candles this night. She passed
through the hall and then paused as she heard a loud male groan.

“Yes….yes….harder,”
a female voice cried out, her voice rising on a crescendo. Lucy scowled and
felt rather nauseous. Well Jasper and his mistress wouldn’t even hear her if
she was galloping down the stairs on a horse. She scurried on, acknowledging to
herself that for once she was not stopping to eavesdrop.

She made her
way down the stairs, luckily remembering at the last moment to tread over the
second to last floorboard. The hall lay in darkness, the edges blurring so that
it looked like an enormous cavern, awaiting the unsuspecting weary traveller,
or in this case the fleeing damsel.

She tiptoed
through the hall, put the candlestick on the side table and gently started to
throw the bolts back on the main door.

She could try
the other doors downstairs in the kitchen but there was more chance of falling
over something. The last bolt typically squeaked nosily. Lucy waited, but
nothing happened. “Oh Jasper I thought I heard something...no, who cares…harder,”
Lucy whispered to herself, mimicking the high voice of Mrs Eloise Harlot
Hamilton. And indeed who did really care, no-one in this house.

Lucy slipped
out, pulling the door closed behind her with a soft click. Her plan was to head
to the stable block where she hoped to find a compliant mare. A few spots of
rain landed on her face, which was all she needed. Why didn’t it just hail to
complete her day of woe?

She snuck
round the edge of the stable door but to her disappointment found one of the
grooms lying fast asleep in the hay outside the main paddocks, his head propped
up on a saddle. She tried her hardest to be quiet but at her footfall the man
snorted and turned her way, thankfully without opening his eyes. She felt her
heartbeat quicken and feared the very sound would wake him. She realised she
would never be able to find and saddle a mare without disturbing him and so she
retreated backwards leaving the stablehand to his dreams.

She fled back
to the courtyard at the front of the manor house again. What now? She panicked…She’d
have to head for the woods. She could spend the night there and then make for
the village at dawn - hopefully try and catch a farmer’s wagon or some such. At
least she had a warm cloak and she may find a hut for the night… She could only
hope…but really there were no other options.

Suddenly the
main door was flung open, allowing a weak light to fall on the courtyard. She
gasped. Unable to see who it was, she turned and fled, heading for the forest.

►▼◄

Jasper had
awakened in his study feeling decidedly fat headed. Falling asleep here seemed
to have become a nightly occurrence. The candles had gutted leaving him in
darkness except for the dull burning of wood from the grate. For a moment he
relished the emptiness it provided. No problems, no revenge and no curvaceous
lasses with blue eyes. He reached over to the table, fumbling for his glass.
Thank Christ it still had some drink in it. He didn’t just need it for the
alcohol but to take away the goddamn awful taste in his mouth. He swilled the
cleansing liquid. He should just forget it all. Tell Lucy the truth and
then…and then what. Return her to her brother - not bloody likely.

He rubbed a
hand over his face. Lazenby would get his comeuppance if not in this life then
the next.

He had to
admit that he had been influenced by Eloise; her constant nagging had fuelled
his hatred and caused him to make hasty decisions. No. It was cowardly to
merely blame Eloise He was his own man and had rashly decided to be judge and
jury on where the fault lay for Simon’s death. He could blame any number of
other things but really he should take the weight of guilt himself.

Maybe he
could have found another way to help Lucy without ruination; surely she had
other relatives he could send her to. If Lazenby hadn’t brokered that deal with
Ketridge maybe the need to avenge Simon’s death would have diminished with
time. Maybe Lucy and he could have….

He suddenly
heard the main door click. He knew Bill was somewhere about in the house, but
he usually closed the door with more force. Jasper stumbled around looking for
more candles, and finally lit one after more fumbling trying to light it from
the dying embers of the fire, at least it hadn’t died completely as he couldn’t
see the tinderbox anywhere.

He’d best
have a look outside.

He found his
shoes but didn’t bother putting them on, his coat and waistcoat were not to be
had anywhere. Cursing his own untidiness and Robinson’s tidiness for good
measure he made his way to the door, frowning at the unsnuffed candle on the
hall table. The bolts were all thrown and Jasper’s senses went on alert. A
crunch in the courtyard outside made him open the door quickly.

The flickering
candlelight struggled to illuminate the darkness ahead, but even through the
gloom he could see Lucy. She was standing some thirty yards away. She glowed
was Jasper’s first thought. Secondly he noticed the look of horror on her face.
Before he could speak she turned and fled like a doe confronted with a hound.

“Lucy,” he
shouted “what in the hell.” Jasper yanked his shoes on, stumbling as he rammed
them on his feet, and started to run after her, throwing the candle onto the
yard. It was pitch dark but his eyes had already adjusted to the black. He
could just see the flash of her petticoats under the cloak. She was headed for
the forest.

“God, no, Lucy,”
he called. He hadn’t been here to maintain the nearby forest, and poachers were
prevalent. Their main way of catching their dinner was with mantraps. Thoughts
of Lucy, her face twisted in agony, a trap caught round her leg spurned him on.

She was
quick, and before he could draw breath she was sprinting on. The skies decided
at that moment to further hinder his efforts, and rain began to fall in
earnest. His lack of clothes however helped his pursuit. Free from sodden
clothing he carried on dodging the trees. Finally he saw Lucy ahead struggling
to release the catch on her heavy saturated cloak.

“Lucy,” he
shouted. She looked up and turned to run again. Jasper couldn’t bear for her to
move another inch, knowing she may fall prey to a trap at any minute. He hurled
himself at her, grasping her round the waist, bearing the brunt of the fall by
twisting his body so Lucy fell atop him. She kept struggling though and he
turned, his heavy body pinning her to the leafy bed. He took some weight off
and her nails tried to rake at his face.

“Let go of
me, let me go,” she cried. Jasper finally grabbed her wrists, restraining them
to either side of her head. She still struggled, her body writhing under his in
a bid to be free. She had no hope of getting away. He was heavier, stronger and
could keep her subdued with just the force of his body. He let her struggle
until she was exhausted and finally she softened, all fight draining from her.

Jasper buried
his head in her wet hair that had become loose at her neck, letting his firm
body sink into her softness. She smelt of jasmine, rain and…Lucy - and he
breathed it in deeply. God, he had been so scared she’d be harmed. Slowly he
lifted his head and turned to Lucy’s face. His lips whispered over her cheek
and he tasted salt and rain.