Read Captivated by the Viscount (The Captivating Debutantes Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Emily Windsor
Captivated by the Viscount (The Captivating Debutantes Series Book 1)
Text copyright
© May 2016 Emily
Windsor
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places
and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. All characters are
fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely
coincidental.
This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or
used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the
author except for the use of brief quotations in book reviews.
Cover design by Melody Simmons
“Someone
tried to kidnap my pug Blinky once. I hit him in the unmentionables. Never
fails my girl.” Aunt Augusta
A manor house
in England, 1813.
Lucy regained
consciousness with a groan and tried to open her eyes. They felt heavy and
sticky and her head hurt. She sensed no light in the room and tried to move her
hands to rub at her eyes. They wouldn’t move and pain streaked down her wrists.
She realised in a daze that her hands were bound behind her back, not tightly
but enough that she was unable to move them and the position had caused them to
stiffen. She licked lips that had no moisture, and tried again to open her
eyes. The panic rising within her helping her lift her heavy lids.
The room was
dark, but a soft dusky light shone in enough through the window to see that she
was in a large bedchamber; a fire in the corner was glowing softly. It was
mid-May but it had been a bitterly freezing winter again and the coldness still
lingered into spring; however the fire helped warm the rather decrepit looking
place. She was lying on a large four poster bed, that despite the general feel
of neglect and damp in the room, had linens that smelt fresh and dry. The walls
looked bare, and large murky pieces of furniture lined the edges of the room.
Seeing that there was no immediate threat Lucy struggled to sit up slightly,
giving her poor hands some much needed freedom. She closed her eyes again and
went through in her mind what she could remember.
She had been
coming out of the modiste. Harry the footman had hurried before her to the
coach so that the packages wouldn’t get wet. Colette de Montmarron, the French
owner would have had some choice words to say about her creations getting
soggy. Lucy had decided not to wait for Harry and started to dash out of the
shop when arms grabbed her from the side. She’d been about to cry out when a
large meaty hand covered her mouth and she had found herself launched into
another coach.
As soon as
she had been flung onto the seat she’d tried to scramble away to the other door
but that burly hand grabbed her shoulder pulling her back. Pain had streaked
through her as her head hit the side of the coach, sickness roiled within her
and for a moment the world went very light before it started to descend into
darkness.
She’d
struggled against the sensation opening her mouth to scream whilst striking out
with her hand, finding purchase with her nails she had clawed at what she
found. She’d heard a low grunt but then she was pushed back roughly against the
seat, the back of her head banging heavily again against the coach. A rough
smelly cloth was thrust over her mouth to stop her screams and her body had
lost the fight against the darkness.
Lucy wasn’t
entirety sure what to do considering she hadn’t been kidnapped before. Her head
felt woozy and her mind wandered. An irrational idea that she was dreaming
entered her head, especially as she’d been reading a rather lurid novel by Mrs
Whittaker which involved a rather lacklustre heroine being kidnapped by
pirates. However the heroine regained consciousness to find herself on a
decadent ship bound for the Jamaicas, not a dark old room that smelt of damp.
She also
couldn’t see any sign of a dark swarthy hero either, although even a pale
blonde one would have done. Lucy instantly imagined Viscount Danbury in her
mind. He had been courting her for the last month, and would certainly make a
dashing hero. Although to be honest, with his coal black hair and eyes that
seemed to deepen to the same darkness on occasion, he would make a better
pirate.
The whinny of
a horse made Lucy gasp and open her eyes wide.
It was no
dream she realised and this was no novel. She felt the darkness of the room
start to close in on her. Who had kidnapped her and why? Did they mean her
harm?
Lucy’s breath
became shallow as she started to panic and she could hear a buzzing sound in
her ears. Did they mean to murder her? Her head felt light at the thought.
“Calm yourself Lucy,” she whispered. She tried to slow the rapid breaths but
her thoughts span uncontrollably causing the breathing to do the exact opposite.
She felt her chest become tight. She needed to think of something else to still
her mind.
“Think of…think
of Lord Danbury again.” Lucy said to herself.
Lord Danbury
was….Lucy let out a long slow breath. Lord Danbury (or Jasper as she liked to
call him…in private and only to herself) was likely getting ready to attend the
Thornwood’s ball, where he would probably find some other debutante to flirt
with. No, it was unfair to label Jasper a flirt as he had been very attentive
in the last few months.
Lucy felt her
breathing even out, and forced her thoughts to continue, however trivial. He
had been so attentive she couldn’t quite believe her luck sometimes which made
her shy in his presence. After all, she was merely the daughter of a baronet, a
title which her brother now held, and Lucy only considered herself passably
pretty. She was certainly no great beauty, but she did have large blue eyes, the
rest of her feature she considered ‘normal’.
In her more
self confident phases she called her hair tawny rather than mouse coloured – it
wasn’t all one colour but rather a selection of blonde and brown that lightened
and deepened according to the season.
She was
neither fat nor thin, although her bosom was rather on the large side for the
current fashion. Jasper’s gaze had always seemed to pause pleasurably on her
bosom, which had always caused a delightful shiver down her spine. Maybe
current fashions didn’t affect a man’s personal inclinations.
Lucy wiggled
to sit up further on the bed. The distraction had helped and now she
felt…angry. She would see Jasper again and soon. She was no milksop miss to
cower in the corner before her abductors. She would find a way out.
Judging by
the light it must be around the seventh hour she thought. Glad that her legs
were not tied she shuffled to the side of the bed and dropped her feet to the
floor. She noticed she wasn’t wearing shoes - how odd. Lucy absolutely hated
shoes, no matter how long the cobbler took to make them she always felt
uncomfortable in them, and walking around in stockings or preferably bare feet
was an unassailable pleasure for her. Her shoes, she noticed were on the far
side of the chamber.
“Hmmm, a
kidnapper that doesn’t like shoes on the sheets,” Lucy mumbled as she heaved
herself off the bed.
Ambling
around the chamber proved to be a waste of time, producing nothing except
stifled sneezes at the dust and the fact that the owner liked reading about
rare pig breeds. She did discover a grimy mirror, but with her hands tied she
could do nothing about her hair which had now fallen from its pins and cascaded
down her back in a flood of rather limp curls. She had a dark smudge across her
forehead and her dress was now creased and dirty.
“I really shouldn’t
be worrying about my appearance,” she scolded. “Limp curls are the least of my
problems.”
Suddenly she
heard voices in the hallway coming her way. She might learn what was happening
if they thought her still asleep so she ran to the bed and flung herself onto
it, the mattress bouncing at her sudden arrival. Hair streamed over her face
but without her hands all she could do was to spit the offending strands out of
her mouth, still her breathing and wait.
The door was
unlocked and Lucy felt as if the whole chamber heard her heartbeat. She saw
light behind her eyelids and footsteps came towards her.
She tried to keep
her breathing deep and slow but even so she felt the dark world slightly tilt
as she sensed the unknown strangers looking upon her.
She nearly
flinched as a hand pushed her hair off her face. She expected a harsh pinch or
a slap to awaken her, but the hand was gentle as it caressed the side of her
face, brushing away more strands. The hand followed the flow of locks down her
neck, caressing its silkiness. It moved onto her shoulder, the fingers lazily
trailing the flow of curls. It then paused at her bosom. Lucy desperately tried
to stop the hitch in her breath. It wasn’t even as if she was scared anymore,
she felt an almost pleasurable anticipation of where the gentle fingers would
go next.
She heard the
man’s sudden harsh exhale of breath and she was aware of the hands’ abrupt
removal.
“Did you have
to hit her?” she heard the man ask “she’s flushed and breathing erratically.”
“She were a
right hellcat, nearly clawed my eyes out, and I didn’t exactly ‘it her either.
Jus’ gave her a shove and she knocked ‘erself out. Leave ‘er till morning
she’ll be fine,” was the rather nonchalant answer.
“And what if she’s
sick whilst unconscious? And there’s no bloody water here either.”
“No point,”
was the answer “her ‘ands are tied.”
A rather rude
expletive was the only retort, one she had heard her brother make when he was
in a nasty mood.
She felt
herself gently turned to the side, and tried to make her body as limp as
possible, however she couldn’t help the small whimper of pain that escaped her
as her hands became free. Another expletive escaped the man’s mouth and she
felt him move her into a more comfortable position. She knew she should be
thinking of kicking him and running but there was the other man to contend with
and he seemed less interested in her welfare. She also couldn’t seem to contain
the pleasurable aspect of pretending to be unconscious whilst the man tended to
her.
He was
currently rubbing her hands back into feeling, lingering on the redness that
must encircle her wrists from the rope. He placed her hands gently at her side.
“Get some
water Bill, now,” the voice said gruffly. She heard the other man grumbling and
then retreating footsteps.
Now was the
time to kick and escape, Lucy thought, when she suddenly felt the man lean over
her, and then a warm calloused hand on her neck.
Oh God, Lucy
thought, he was just pretending to be nice and now the other man has gone he’s going
to strangle me.
Kick and escape
. Then she realised he was feeling the pulse
in her neck. Her heart was racing and she thought he must surely know she was
awake, but the fingers moved on. They moved up, past her ear, her cheek and finally
to her forehead where he pressed the flat of his hand feeling for any sign of
fever. At length she felt him lean over her, his shirt rustling, and again that
horrible but pleasurable sensation washed over her.
She could
hear his harsh breathing, feel his breath on her face which smelt of cinnamon
and alcohol, and she could smell sandalwood cologne. Familiarity washed over Lucy,
she knew that cologne, even the voice now seemed familiar. She felt the face
lean closer. Don’t open your eyes Lucy, don’t open your eyes she repeated to
herself in her head.
“Here’s yer
adam’s ale,” the voice came suddenly and broke the tension. She was aware that
neither of them had heard his footsteps. The fingers were removed from her
forehead and she sensed the man retreat. She heard the sounds of a glass being
placed by her bed, a coverlet was pulled up over her and then both men left. At
the last moment she lifted her lids slightly, the man at the door held a
candlestick and although her eyes were slightly blurry she could easily make
out his features.
Tall with short
black hair and high cheekbones, thin lips and a distinctive jaw line made the
face harsh in the lamplight, but there was no mistaking Jasper Carnforth,
Viscount Danbury.
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