Page 1 of To Win a Viscount's Heart
Prologue
Grosvenor Square, Mayfair
London, England
June 1813
“Kiss me,” the lady demanded in a seductive tone. “No one will see us here.”
“I aim to please, my lady” Gerald Lawrence said huskily, stepping into the jasmine-covered gazebo at the end of the garden path.
Taking her into his arms, his lips skimmed hers as he took measure of the low-cut red satin dress, that revealed far more of her considerable cleavage with each heaving breath she took.
“Oh my, your lips are divine, my lord,” the lady purred, leaning her head back and exposing her long, delicate neck. “Gerald…I can call you Gerald, can’t I? And I want you to call me Beth,” she purred. “Am I to your liking, Gerald?”
He beheld the curvy blonde, her curls glowing under the soft light of the gas lantern. “Your charms enrapture me,” he replied in a low voice. Suddenly, he recalled that his father’s best friend, Viscount Bowles, would be in attendance with his family.Dash it all!Why did I involve myself in this crazy bet tonight of all nights?
His friends, Victor Thomas and Asher Wright, bet that he couldn’t beat their time in having the lady proposition him. Gerald was certain he’d won the bet and knew he should return to the ballroom where his family expected his presence.Yet, I deserve some pleasure, he reasoned.Maybe a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt. I should be able to claim a little pleasureand make it back to the ballroom before I am missed.I wagered fifty pounds, after all. This will be an easy and pleasurable win.
She giggled, and pressed herself against him, her fingers combing through the back of his hair, as his own hands worked their way towards her ample bosom.
God’s teeth! Her gown barely covers those luscious globes.
“Oh, Gerald. We are friends, aren’t we?” she said, suddenly beginning to pant.
Why in the world is the woman panting?So far, they’d only kissed.Blast!The woman would draw unwanted attention from all the noise she was making.
Clearing his throat he replied, “Yes...my lady…of course, we are.”
“Because your friendship is ever so important to me…” she said, panting louder. “Isn’t it important to you?”
“Why yes, absolutely.”
Why is she harping on about friendship? Can she not simply relax and enjoy the moment?
“Oh, I knew you’d agree!” She grabbed him by the ears and yanked him down for an enthusiastic kiss.
He yelped as she dug her sharp nails into his ear lobes as though she were hanging onto a runaway horse. “Er…Madame, if you will release my ears,” he whispered. Alas, he doubted she could hear him over her vociferous gasping and groaning.
Carefully, he liberated his ears, one at a time. Lady Adamson was a desirable woman, but their interlude was turning out to be the opposite of the heady experience he’d anticipated.
This wasn’t as easy as he had anticipated. Gerald found himself mentally kicking himself for agreeing to the blasted bet. How long it would take to tempt Lady Adamson to proposition him? Twenty minutes to be exact. A record. His friends hadtimed it of course. They stood a few feet behind them in the ballroom at the time. Wright had clocked in at thirty minutes in Hyde Park last week, and twenty-five minutes was all it had taken for Thomas at Almack’s three days past.
Even though Gerald had won the bet with his friends, he’d also wanted to claim his pleasure with the voluptuous beauty. The lady’s lusty reputation was well-known among the bachelors of theton. She delighted in trysting in the riskiest of settings—often under her elderly husband’s nose. Tonight, was no different. Lord Adamson had been in the gaming room for the past hour deep in a rematch of Piquet against Viscount Simon Wiley.
What Gerald hadn’t realized, was how exasperating Lady Adamson was. He bit back another yelp as she yanked on his ears again, pulling his face down into her considerable cleavage. She then launched into another energetic round of moaning and panting.….
Hell, he’d never hear anyone approaching with the noise she was making.
A chorus of loud gasps sounded behind him.
Too late.
Biting back a curse, Gerald spun around, and the color drained from his face. Standing at the entrance of the gazebo was his father, Lord William Lawrence, the Earl of Bellecote, red-faced with fury, his horrified mother, Lady Mary Ellen Lawrence, the Countess of Bellecote, his father’s best friend Viscount Bowles and his wife, Lady Fleur Bowles, whose faces were mottled in astonishment. But the most memorable expression was on the face of his betrothed—the Honorable Selena Bowles, daughter of the Viscount and his French-born wife.
Gerald couldn’t help but notice the poor girl looked less like a debutante and more like a frightened little bird withher mouth agape in shock. Her skinny, petite frame seemed overwhelmed by the poufy pink confection of the gown she wore. Although her dark hair was thick and shiny, the style was far too babyish for his tastes, with fat ringlets framing her pallid, thin, oval face.She looks like a little girl. How in blazes is this child to be my wife?
The only truly striking quality about the young lady was her eyes. They were quite extraordinary, and Gerald could not recall ever seeing eyes that color. Pale blue—almost translucent—surrounded by a darker blue around the outer rim. Having never seen eyes such as these, he felt virtually starstruck, almost being pulled into the depths of those stunning eyes, despite his irritation with the situation.
