Scarlet Kisses

Dedication

To my amazing family, Mum, Dad, Nick, Sam and AJ. You guys are unreal.

Chapter One

Year 1843

“You are a good, respectable and proper woman,” Travis Potting said as he sat before Alyssum in the front parlor of her family’s country estate. His hands were folded tightly in his lap and his brow sweat in nervousness. “That is why it is difficult for me to tell you…” He squeezed his hands tighter. “I will be unable to go forth with this courtship.”

Alyssum sat quietly on her chair as she listened to Mr. Potting’s announcement. Her hands that had been lying in her lap were now clutched together. This was not happening. Travis was supposed to marry her. They were supposed to live a quiet, simple life in his vicarage. That was how she had wanted it. That was what she had planned. Quiet and simple. Now it was all ruined.

“May I ask why?” she asked, her polite smile still frozen on her lips.

“I have fallen in love with another,” he announced with a rise of his pointed chin.

“Who?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Travis shifted in his seat uncomfortably. “Miss Clarice Weathers.”

“Miss Weathers?” Alyssum repeated breathlessly. She could picture her now. Long, curling blonde hair, baby-blue eyes, voluptuous figure and big bouncing breasts. At eighteen and just revealed by low-cut gowns, she was the toast of the county and men now flocked to her. They reminded her of a coop of chickens pecking, and Clarice was the bucket of feed.

While Alyssum usually stood with her sister or her mother, Miss Clarice Weathers was always found jumping around on the dance floor and twittering like a bird.

“I had no idea. Does Miss Weathers feel the same way about you?” she asked.

“Well…yes. I mean…we haven’t spoken of our feelings…yet. But I believe she does, yes,” he stuttered out.

“Then I wish you both all the happiness in the world.” Alyssum managed a brighter smile.

“I’m so glad you understand,” Travis sighed, his relief obvious. “Well, I must be leaving.” He stood and Alyssum followed suit. They bowed and curtseyed to one another.

“I’ll let myself out.”

“Good day, Mr. Potting.”

“And to you.” He nodded before leaving the parlor.

Alyssum stared after him, watching the empty doorway. She sighed deeply. Now who was she going to marry? At twenty-two she was beginning to worry she would become a spinster. She didn’t want to be a lonely, old spinster. She wanted a husband and a house and children. How would she ever get them if nobody would marry her? Travis Potting was a sweet man, a man of God. He would have made her a suitable husband and given her the things she craved. She may not love him, but they would have been content together.

“Meg?” Alyssum looked over to the young maid sitting in the corner quietly.

“Yes, miss?”

“Please don’t speak of this until I have spoken to my mother.”

“Yes, miss.” She nodded.

Alyssum walked from the room. Entering the foyer, she saw a man standing with his back to her. Her heart hit the wall of her chest and her belly fluttered. She exhaled, annoyed with her reaction to this man.

“Viscount Lambert,” Alyssum greeted him with a blasé attitude.

Turning quickly when his name was called, Robert looked to Alyssum and gave her a bright smile that had broken so many debutant hearts. With disheveled brown hair, a constant gleam of mischief in his brown eyes and an askew cravat, he was judged to be one of the most reckless and daring man of the ton.

“Alyssum.” He gave her an exaggerated bow. With one arm out to the side, he gave her a sweeping bow then swung back straight. She returned his bow with a small, quick curtsy.

“As always, a pleasure to see you,” he said as he continued smiling at her, but now the smile had turned more into a grin in her judgment. Did the man ever not have that wicked glint in his eyes?

The untidiness of his cravat grated her teeth. After a quick glance to make sure there were no servants about, she stormed over to him. His grin flashed brighter as she approached. He chuckled as she grabbed his coats lapels and made him bend down to her. She unraveled his cravat then retied it quickly and efficiently. She stepped back and surveyed the straight cravat with approval.

“Couldn’t keep your hands off me, could you?” he murmured.

She met his gaze and jerked backwards when she found them standing so close. She could see the gold flakes in his brown eyes. She took another step back, placing the proper distance between them.

“Are you waiting for Harry?” she asked, changing the topic hurriedly as she noticed the folder in his hand.

“Yes,” he replied. “And how many times must I tell you to call me Robert?” He took a step forward, breaking the appropriate distance between them.

“It would not be proper,” she replied, and took a step back.

“But we’ve known each other since we were kids. I live next door. We used to throw mud at each other.”

Alyssum shifted her gaze around the empty foyer.

“Ah, wouldn’t want someone to hear you used to have fun,” he whispered.

“I still have fun,” she snapped and turned her gaze back to his.

“Really? What was the last fun thing you did?” He folded his arms over his chest and waited for her answer.

“Well…” she trailed off with a slight frown. She couldn’t think of anything off the top of her head.

“And so help me God, if you say embroidering…” He closed his eyes and looked as if he were in pain.

“It can be fun,” she snapped.

Robert chuckled and shook his head. “Tsk, tsk. What am I going to do with you, Alyssum?”

“You’re not going to do anything with my sister,” a firm voice broke in.

Robert and Alyssum turned their gazes over to Harry, who stood before his open study door.

“Please?” Robert beseeched, his eyes playful.

Harry glared at him then looked over to Alyssum. “Is Mr. Potting gone?”

“Mr. Potting?” Robert looked back to Alyssum. “Really?” He arched a brow incredulously.

Ignoring Robert, Alyssum kept her gaze on Harry. “Yes, he left,” she told her brother.

“He didn’t…” Harry looked at her expectantly.

“No, and he will not.”

Harry gave her sympathetic look.

“You wanted to marry Travis Potting, the vicar?” Robert cried out with a look of horror on his face.

Alyssum looked back to him with irritation. “Good day, Viscount Lambert,” she snipped out.

His grin came back and he gave her another exaggerated bow. “Alyssum.”

“It’s Lady Rosewood to you,” Harry said.

“I don’t call women I’ve swum naked with by their titles,” Robert informed them.

Harry groaned while Alyssum made a noise of outrage.

“I have never,” she exclaimed with her cheeks flushed red.

“You have.” Robert smiled wickedly.

“I was young, and I always wore my shift.”

“The shift was white and you were wet. I’ve seen you naked,” he whispered the last bit.

Harry stalked over to Robert, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, yanked him away from Alyssum and pulled him into his office.

Shutting his office door with a loud bang, Harry then shoved Robert further into the room.

“Why?” Harry asked as he sat down behind his desk. “Why do you have to torment my sister?”

“It’s so much fun.” Robert dropped the folder onto the table then sat and perched his feet onto Harry’s desk. “I love making the prim and proper squirm and blush.” He grinned like the devil he was.

“That fact wouldn’t have anything to do with why the Earl of Blackmore glares at you every time he sees you, would it?” He pushed Robert’s feet off his desk.

“Yes, it does,” Robert announced proudly. “I told his daughter how the French kiss.”

“Told not taught?” Harry arched brow.

“She’s a debutant,” Robert said, as if that explained everything. Which it did. Robert would never mix with a debutant unless he wanted to get married, which he didn’t. Not for at least another ten years, and only because he needed an heir. He was only twenty-eight. He had plenty of time until he had to chain himself down.

“All right, down to business.” Harry leaned forward and opened the folder Robert had brought.

“All right.” Robert sighed and also leaned forward. He always came to Harry, his best friend since childhood, for business matters. He knew his endless supply of family fortune was still rising with the help of Harry. Without Harry sitting on his shoulder, being his guardian angel, he would have gambled and whored it all away when his old man died ten years ago. When that joyous occasion had finally come, Robert had burned his father’s office to a crisp, with the help of a certain person. Luckily, the servants were quick or they may have accidentally burned the whole house down.

“That man!” Alyssum huffed in anger as she paced the carpeted floor of her sister’s room.

“You shouldn’t let him get to you this way,” Violet said from the window seat, a book in her lap.

“I have fun,” Alyssum snapped and turned to Violet. “Right?” she asked, unsure.

“Of course you have fun.”

“Yes. You’re right, I do have fun. I am a fun person.” She began pacing again.

Violet gave a small shake of her head and turned her attention back to the book of poetry on her lap.

“I can’t think of anything.” Alyssum stopped pacing and faced Violet again.

“Pardon?”

“I can’t think of anything fun I’ve done lately.”

“What about your gardening?” Violet volunteered.

Alyssum tilted her head to the side. “I guess I enjoy it. But I wouldn’t say it’s fun.”

“Well, who cares what Robert thinks?”

“Robert?” Alyssum raised her eyebrows to Violet.

Violet shifted in her seat. “Well, we did grow up together. I’ve known him all my life.”

“But it’s not proper.”

Violet rolled her eyes.

“Violet Rosewood.” Alyssum placed her hands on her slender hips. “Did you just roll your eyes at me?”

Violet opened her mouth to protest when Jasmine, the youngest Rosewood sibling, ran into the room and slammed the door shut behind her. Panting for breath with her long black hair falling about her shoulders wildly, she gasped, “Help me. Hide me from Mother.”

“What have you done now, Jaz?” Violet asked.

“Nothing.” She tried looking innocent.

“Jasmine Rosewood,” Alyssum spoke with authority.

“Yes, Alyssum Rosewood,” Jaz mocked her and hopped onto the bed with a bounce.

Violet hid her smile behind her book.

“What are we all doing?” Jaz asked.

“Discussing the last fun thing we did,” Violet answered.

“Oh, joy.” A knock came at the door and Jaz jumped from the bed in a flash.

“Yes?” Violet called.

“Violet, dear, is Jasmine in there?” Their mother’s voice was muffled through the door.

“Yes, she is,” Violet called back.

“Traitor,” Jaz whispered.

The door swung open to reveal their mother. “Jasmine,” Caroline said disapprovingly with her gaze on her youngest.

“It wasn’t me,” Jaz was quick to exclaim.

“So you didn’t use a servant’s mattress to slide down the servants’ stairs?” their mother placed her hands on her hips. Her black hair and green eyes were identical to Jaz and Alyssum’s. Even at fifty, she still possessed the same beauty that had captured their father’s heart.

“Perhaps,” Jaz drawled.

“Your room, now.” Caroline pointed down the hall.

Grudgingly complying with her mother’s order, Jasmine strode from the room, dragging her feet all the way.

“I’m terrified of the day we introduce her into society,” Caroline spoke quietly.

“Society already knows Jasmine,” Alyssum said.

“Not in the ballrooms,” replied their mother.

“Try not to worry,” Violet replied in her soothing voice. “She’s only sixteen. She’ll settle down.”