For the Love of Lynette Read online

  They danced to an elegant waltz, their bodies moving in perfect harmony, and when it was over Lynette found herself being smoothly maneuvered out one of the glass side doors and into the gardens.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, her tone turning slightly apprehensive as she glanced back over her shoulder at the rapidly fading light shining out through the ballroom’s open windows. She wanted to be alone with her handsome suitor, but she also knew wandering off without a chaperone was strictly against the unspoken rules that all young debutantes were expected to follow.

  “Not far,” he assured her as he gave her hand an affectionate squeeze. “Just to this fountain. Is it not the most beautiful thing you have ever seen? Aside from your smile, of course.”

  His flattery caused her to blush as she studied the fountain. Composed of stone and marble, it was easily twice her height and three times her width. Water trickled down from the top where three cherubs lounged on their sides, their round faces frozen into mischievous expressions. It was an impressive structure, and obviously one the owners took great pride in as there were several benches surrounding the fountain. Leading her to one of them, her suitor made a show of clearing off the seat with his embroidered handkerchief before he gestured for her to sit with a gallant sweep of his arm that made Lynette giggle.

  “Rumor has it,” he whispered into her ear as he sat beside her, “that the first Duke of Albernel had the fountain imported from Spain as a wedding gift for his wife.”

  “Heavens,” Lynette exclaimed, startled by the sheer undertaking of it all. “He had it imported? It must have taken a very large ship.”

  Husky laughter filled the air as her suitor tilted his head back, and Lynette’s cheeks flushed with color yet again as a tiny thrill of delight passed through her. He thinks I am amusing, she thought, inordinately pleased with herself. And he said my name was pretty. He said I was pretty. Struggling not to beam from ear to ear, she turned her head and found him gazing down at her, his green eyes intent and his countenance somber.

  “Is – is something wrong?” she asked hesitantly, taken aback by his grave expression.

  “Nothing is wrong,” he said with a serious shake of his head. “For once, I think everything just may be right. Might I ask permission to hold your hand, Miss Lynette? There is something very important I must tell you.”

  Lynette’s gaze darted down the path from whence they had come. She knew it wasn’t proper to allow herself to be touched by a man without a chaperone present, but what would be the harm in a tiny bit of hand holding if no one was around to witness it?

  “I – I suppose it would be all right,” she said as she relinquished her hand.

  “So very delicate,” he murmured, his palm easily dwarfing hers as he ran his thumb across her knuckles. “Like the wings of a bird.”

  “The wings of a bird?” she repeated with a breathless laugh that ended on a hiccup of surprise when he lifted her hand and kissed the back of it, his mouth lingering a second longer than was technically proper. Moonlight filtered through his tousled hair, turning blond to silver and highlighting the sweet, rugged perfection of his face. He truly was, without a doubt, the most handsome man Lynette had ever encountered, and when he drew her closer until their thighs were touching and their faces were mere inches apart she went willingly, as pliable in his hands as a ball of clay in the grasp of a master sculptor.

  “Stunning,” he murmured as he touched her cheek, trailing the pointed tip of his finger along the curving line of her jaw. “Absolutely stunning.”

  “Th-thank you,” Lynette stuttered. He is going to kiss me, she thought with equal parts alarm and delight. Having never been kissed before – nor kissed another – she had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to do. Should she close her eyes or leave them open? Where was her nose going to go? Oh, what about her hands? And her teeth? She’d heard by way of a friend who had heard from a friend – for wasn’t that always the way – that Miss Rebecca Shaw had bloodied her lip during her first kiss and hadn’t been able to show her face for two weeks! What if that happens to me? Lynette wondered as her apprehension rapidly escalated. Temperance and Delilah would never let me hear the end of it! And what would Mother say? Filled with self-doubt, she tensed and began to draw back, but her suitor’s next words – uttered as sweetly as honey – had her quickly reversing direction.

  “I never imagined in my wildest dreams I would ever find someone like you, Lynette. I am sorry.” He winced, as though he were ashamed. “I should not have been so forward and called you by your Christian name. I know it is not proper, but in my defense I feel as though I have already known you for years instead of minutes.” His eyes glimmered with apology. “Please forgive me.”

  “It is quite all right,” she said hastily, not wanting to ruin the moment on the whim of a sheer technicality. After all, they were already holding hands. Did it really matter if he did not use the ‘Miss’ in front of her name as he should have? “I – I feel the same way, actually. Although…”

  “Although?” he prompted when she hesitated.

  Feeling suddenly bashful, Lynette lowered her gaze to her hands which were still twisted in her lap for she hadn’t the slightest idea of what to do with them. “I fear I have not asked your name.”

  “Nathaniel.” He lifted her chin with a tiny nudge of his finger. “Nathaniel Blackbourne, Viscount of Townsend.”

  “Nathaniel Blackbourne,” she whispered.

  What a fine, fitting name it was. If they were to ever marry – and sitting beneath the moonlight after two glasses champagne the idea did not seem as nearly farfetched as it should have been – it was a name she would delight in taking.

  Lynette Blackbourne.

  Lady Lynette Blackbourne.

  It certainly did have a ring to it.

  “I love the way it sounds falling from you lips,” he murmured softly. “Please, say it again.”

  Though her cheeks pinkened, she did as he asked. “Nathaniel Blackbourne.”

  “Ah, my lovely Lynette,” he sighed. “I fear I have fallen under your spell.” His gaze intent, he picked up both of her hands and squeezed her fingers together. “I know it is sudden, and I know you have no reason to accept my offer when you’ve no doubt received countless others, but I must plead my case for I fear what shall become of me if I do not. I am not a man who usually believes in fate, but it is clear to me that you, Lynette Swan, are my destiny. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “B-becoming your wife?”

  “Yes,” he said passionately. “Forever and ever, for that is how long I shall love you. I shall love you until the sun drops into the sea. I shall love you until the last star in the sky has been extinguished. I shall love you into eternity, my dear Lynette, and even that shall not be long enough to sate my desire for you.”

  As proposals went, it was quite well done, although she couldn’t help but suspect there was something less than genuine about it all. Perhaps it was the star in the sky business that had put a sour taste in the back of her throat, or maybe that was simply the champagne coming back up. Either way, Lynette found herself suddenly wary of Nathaniel’s intentions. Yes, he was handsome and yes, he was certainly charming, but who was he? Aside from his name and the color of his eyes, she knew nothing about him. And yet he wanted to marry her? It was all beginning to be a bit too disconcerting for her conservative tastes. If he wanted call on her she would be more than happy to receive him, but for now she rather thought it would be best if they returned to the ballroom.

  “That is very nice of you to say,” she began gently, for the last thing she wanted to do was hurt his feelings, “but do you think it would be better if we took a bit of time—”

  “You do not believe my intentions are pure and true.” A shadow of hurt passed over his attractive countenance, filling Lynette with guilt.

  “No, no, it is not that,” she assured him. “I – I just fear I may have had a bit too much t
o drink, and my head isn’t quite as clear as I would like it to be, and…well, this is all a bit sudden, isn’t it?” she asked uncertainly.

  His head canted to one side. “Have you ever been in love before?”

  “Well no,” she admitted, “but—”

  “Neither have I,” he said solemnly. “Which is why I know what I feel for you is genuine. My dear, sweet, suspicious Lynette. Let me prove myself with a kiss.”

  A kiss?

  “I do not know if that would be the best course of—”

  But it was too late for protests.

  Before Lynette could finish her sentence, Nathaniel pulled her against him and she caught a glimpse of tiny golden whiskers clinging to his jawline before he pressed his lips to hers.

  As far as first kisses went, it wasn’t horrible. There was no teeth bashing as she’d feared, and after only a moment or two she figured out where her nose was supposed to go. Her hands proved a bit problematic, but when Nathaniel looped his arms around her back she awkwardly sought to do the same although her reach wasn’t quite as long as his and she ended up with one arm tucked up by his neck and the other trapped between them. Brow furrowing, she squirmed a bit to the right as she rolled her shoulder in an attempt to free her arm, but Nathaniel was kissing her in earnest now, and just as she managed to create enough space between them to adjust to a more comfortable position she felt the wet, sticky slide of his tongue along the seam of her lips.

  Startled by the unexpected intimacy, Lynette opened her mouth to ask him what in heaven’s name he was doing – her friend of a friend had mentioned nothing about tongues! – but unfortunately Nathaniel took the parting of her lips as a silent invitation and shoved his tongue inside her mouth with one hard thrust.

  He ran his fingers through her hair as he explored the caverns of her mouth with broad sweeps of his tongue that left Lynette filled with a mild sense of disgust. If this was how kissing was done then it certainly explained why she’d never seen her parents exchange more than a quick peck on the cheek. It reminded her of the time she’d caught a frog. The idea of it had seemed so exciting at first, but the second she felt the frog’s slimy skin she’d thrown it back in the pond with a shriek.

  This was rather like that.

  In theory kissing Nathaniel was a good idea. After all, she did like him a great deal and he’d already professed his love for her. But the actual application was a bit…lackluster.

  For some reason Lynette had always imagined she would feel sparks when she kissed the man of her dreams.

  Instead she felt nothing but a bit of drool dripping down her chin.

  When at long last he lifted his head she exhaled in relief and would have scooted to the far side of the bench if not for his arms still wrapped around her.

  “Well?” he said, an arrogant smile lifting one side of his mouth as he looked down at her. “What did you think of your first kiss?”

  Not knowing what to say without sounding rude, she asked him a question instead. “How did you know it was my first?”

  “A man can tell these things,” he said with an arrogant twist of his lips. “But do not worry, my darling, you will get better.”

  Oh.

  Lynette’s face fell as she realized she’d been the one doing it wrong. How utterly embarrassing!

  Seeing her expression Nathaniel chuckled quietly under his breath and once again lifted her chin. “Now that I have proven my love to you we shall have all the time in the world to practice, my dear. But for now, I think it best if we return to the ballroom. I wouldn’t want your absence to be noted.”

  “Yes,” Lynette agreed, feeling a bit dazed. “I think that is a very good idea.”

  “Shall I accompany you?”

  “No – no I think I remember the way.”

  “Until we meet again then,” he said before he kissed her temple and stood up. When he offered his hand she took it, and he dipped into a low, fanciful bow after helping her to her feet. “Farewell, my sweet Lynette. Tonight my dreams shall be of you.”

  “And mine shall be of you,” she admitted bashfully, for even though the kissing hadn’t quite met her expectations, Nathaniel was perfect in nearly every other way. He was handsome and charming and well-spoken and he loved her. Why, he’d even mentioned marriage! And he was a viscount. Once they were wed, she would be a lady.

  A lady in love.

  Her spirits buoyed, Lynette picked up her skirts and hurriedly retraced her steps. Hoping no one had noticed her prolonged disappearance, she opened the same door Nathaniel had used to bring her out to the fountain…only to stop in shocked dismay at the scene awaiting her on the other side of it.

  Three dozen pairs of eyes swiveled and stared straight at her as she stepped over the threshold. Stopping short, Lynette realized too late what she must have looked like with her hair all disheveled and her lips swollen and the side of her throat rubbed red from Nathaniel’s whiskers. Like a deer caught in the crosshairs she froze, every muscle going rigid as she wondered frantically what she was going to do.

  Oh no, she thought dismally as one by one her peers began to turn their backs, effectively giving her the dreaded direct cut. Oh no, oh no, oh no!

  She spied her mother in the middle of the crowd. White as a sheet, Agatha Swan covered her mouth with one hand and swayed on her feet.

  With a soft, muffled cry Lynette did the only thing she could think of…turning on her heel, she fled back out into the night and ran as fast as she could into the gardens.

  Leaves slapped her face and hands as she lost herself in the labyrinth of shrubs and vines and potted plants, going round and round in aimless circles before she finally spied the fountain through the spindly leaves of a hedge.

  Nathaniel, she thought in relief as she fought her way through the shrubbery. Nathaniel will know what to do. He loves me. I know he does. And he shall be able to fix everything.

  Hearing the soft murmur of voices as she drew closer, she slowed to a walk, and then a halt as she stared at Nathaniel in heart-wrenching disbelief.

  He was still sitting on the same bench, but he wasn’t alone. A beautiful blonde with pale ivory skin and a gorgeous rose colored gown sat on his lap with her arms entwined around his neck and her mouth pressed against his. For a single moment Lynette managed to convince herself that the woman had somehow thrown herself at Nathaniel without invitation, but then he lifted his head…stared straight at Lynette…and smiled.

  CHAPTER ONE

  London, England

  August 7th, 1830

  If there was one thing Lynette Swan knew to be true it was that men - particularly men with smoldering green eyes and the devil’s own charm - were not to be trusted. As she stood beside her bed and stared out at the rain pouring down from the dull, dreary gray sky she allowed herself (as she did every morning) one single moment of self-pity before she squared her shoulders, lifted her chin, and fixed a smile on her face. Once she would have dwelled on her past mistakes for the better part of the day, but as it currently stood she had far more to worry about than Lord Nathaniel Blackbourne.

  First and foremost being the fate of her two sisters.

  She suspected Temperance had an inkling of the dire financial straits their father had left them in upon his unexpected passing in May, but she knew Delilah hadn’t a clue. The poor dear was as sweet as they came, but her head was so far up in the clouds Lynette couldn’t help but wonder if her youngest sister had ever felt the weight of gravity pulling at her feet.

  She doubted it.

  Pulling a dressing robe over her white nightgown - the hem of which was beginning to come unraveled and trailed behind her like the limp, lifeless tail of a cat - Lynette padded barefoot down the hall and knocked twice on her sister’s door, knuckles rapping softly against the wood. Four months ago she would have been sleeping beside Temperance and Delilah, but by a cruel twist of fate - and an accident that had been long in the making due to her father’s penchant for experimenting with explosives - she
had moved into her parent’s bedroom.

  It still felt odd to sleep in their bed. To rest her head in the same place where her mother had once rested hers. To wake up and see the armoire against the far wall instead of crammed in the corner. But most of all…most of all it felt lonely. For though she may have been doing her best to keep a stiff upper lip on the outside, on the inside she was completely lost.

  In the course of her training to become a gentlewoman, Lynette had learned the correct way to curtsy and how to make a perfect stitch, but she’d never learned what to do with two sisters depending on her and no money with which to support them.

  Two lazy sisters, she thought with a disgruntled look at their bedroom door which still remained firmly closed. Had she not told them to be up and fully dressed by eight? It was an unreasonably early hour, to be sure, but it wasn’t as though she had much choice in the matter. Simply put, she couldn’t leave Temperance and Delilah unchaperoned while she went looking for work…and she couldn’t go looking for work while they were still sound asleep in their beds.

  She knocked once more before she turned the knob and pushed the door open. It squeaked on its hinges, an ear wincing reminder of yet another thing that needed to be fixed.

  Their townhouse may have been in a desirable area of London - tucked away on a narrow tree lined street just three blocks away from Grosvenor Square - but that was where the desirable traits ended and the undesirable traits began. When it was first built Lynette had no doubt the house had been a thing of elegance and beauty, but time had brought with it many changes and few of them were good. She may have been able to overlook the plaster peeling from the ceilings even though she kept finding tiny white flecks in her hair every night and she may have been able to ignore the water puddling on the inside of the windowsills after a drenching rainfall, but it was the little things - the creaking doors, the loose tile in the foyer, the broken dining room chair - that she couldn’t ignore. Little things their father, bless his soul, would have been able to repair.