A/N: Only one other of these out there so...Here's my Libertine story. It will be multi-chaptered I really think that those who seek real depth of character in a movie (and are mature enough for its subject matter) should go see this film. I was however unfortunate enough to see it with a bunch of Post POTC Johnny Depp fans who apparently didn't know what the film was about and were, shall I say, surprised, when they finally figured it out. I'm an older Depp fan (When I say older, I mean I'm old enough to remember when 21 Jump Street was on the air and I saw Edward Scissorhands during its original release.) And this new batch of fans grate on my nerves to no end. Before you scold me and leave, let me say this; in defense of some aforementioned fans, I have met quite a few who are indeed very cool and not solely into his looks. To you, I apologize for the rest of the bunch. Now that I've said my piece and wasted countless moments of your precious time, let me get on with the story. Please review if you like.

McFadden-

The Seamstress

Chapter One

John Wilmot, Second Earl of Rochester glowered into his seat. Here he was again at his favorite place in the world, the backwater theater. However, currently he was wrought with boredom. This afternoon's first act had been absolutely atrocious and all he wanted was a drink. Maybe it would make the pain of an encore easier to bear. His friends made snide comments about the actors and actresses while he just sank lower into his seat, wishing it would swallow him whole. From his box seat, high above the others, John's eyes searched the house for his barely apt servant who always seemed to be at his back except for in times when he wanted him there. Now, was such an occasion. Almost giving up hope as the stage lights were relit for the second act, he spotted the squat man ambling up the staircases on his way. John's eyes strayed over from the steps and were met with the beady black eyes of King Charles. Who promptly smiled and waved. John just looked away and tried everything to ignore the unwanted attention of the King. As his incompetent servant showed is face, the Earl of Rochester stamped at the ground with his cane, clearly annoyed with the man.

"Where the hell have you been Alcock? The play is almost over. You missed the entire first act."

Even though disdain was clearly dripping from the latter part of his statement, he really wanted to know where the daft fool had disappeared to. The stout man bent slightly and whispered while keeping his eyes set on the stage.

"My apologies Sir, but with good reason. I was otherwise indisposed."

John's face scrunched up in disgust and rolled his head back in his chair to stare disapprovingly at his accomplice.

"Urgh...Alcock how many times to I have to tell you? The ladies, and I use that term loosely, of the stage in East London are nothing but the filthiest of peddlers and whores. They'll screw you just when you finish screwing them and before you know it, your money's gone and your piss feels like salt in an open wound."

Alcock just rocked on his heels and smiled smugly to himself until the Earl conceded him to go on, which he did with much enthusiasm.

"Actually, the ladies of the stage are dirt, as you so aptly put it. That I agree to, but the stage hands... that, I beg to differ. I may have even found some company for you. There's a feisty little dish backstage that I think you'd enjoy..."

He saw the leering eye that he was being given. John opened his mouth and cracked his jaw in boredom and mumbled into the back of his hand that was holding his cane by white knuckles.

"Alcock...don't be an idiot."

He just shrugged and cleared his throat.

"Suit yourself Sir. Better chances for me anyway."

And with a quickened pace, retreated beyond the heavy draperies that separated the house seating from the backstage area. Well, needless to say, this comment and action piqued John's interests in more than one way now. The least he could do was go figure out who all this fussing was about, and rather or not she was worth it.

He entered the backstage quarters with many a sigh to welcome him. The ladies did all but press, and some did press, to get closer to him. He was used to this behavior. Most of the theaters in this area of London were scoured with the mangy whores. Although, upon entering, one figure in particular had caught the Earl's eye. And it wasn't because she had been in the front of the line. No indeed, this enticing little creature was far back, tucked away in a dusty corner and did not seem disturbed one bit with the commotion around her. This must've been who Alcock was referring to. His suspicions were confirmed when he saw his lowly but faithful servant approaching the torso and legs that were the only things visible. And, well...if that were the only thing to go on...

Her face was out of view, hidden beneath ruffled layers of expensive silk charmeuse. A small, delicate hand with long fingers would peek out and make itself known every few seconds while batting away at a larger, clumsier hand. That of which belonged to his incorrigible sidekick. John had a quiet laugh as he watched the scene from his post, occasionally fending off the unwanted attention of the few actresses that hadn't left when he ignored all of them. Moments passed and a huff could be heard from the fabric, then all movement stilled. Ah, John knew this game. He watched as the unknown woman waited for the oaf to make his second and final move. She was going to be a cobra, and Alcock, the unlucky brute, was going to be her unsuspecting prey. He reached a bold hand out to tickle her sides and he caught a needle straight into the back of the hand, threading still attached. Alcock immediately cursed and recoiled his wounded hand, bringing it to his mouth.

"What in fucking hell did you do that for!"

A simply sweet and chide remark came muffled through the material.

"You didn't behave."

He watched his manservant skulk off and back to the open part of the theater. John straightened himself gallantly, thinking this would be the perfect opportune moment to move in.

A lovely soft voice emerged with a quiet dignity. Much clearer now that he was standing directly beside her. Even so, there was no mistaking the venom laced in her words.

"You have my warning now. This time, it won't just be your hand that stings..."

John smiled to himself and whispered in his best roguish lilt.

"Let's hope not..."

She froze, not expecting to hear a different voice. Although the same scent of wine was heavy on his breath, his speech wasn't slurred beyond cohesion. She knew who it was. She could tell when he entered the room a few minutes before. It was none other than the infamous John Wilmot of Rochester. And in her opinion, a very conceited, single-minded cad.

"It's Kathryn, isn't it?"

She was shocked that he actually knew her name. Before she had time to think of what to do next, the fabric she'd been mending was pulled up and a very handsome face appeared in their absence.

"May I come in?"

Kathryn didn't know what to say so he took her silence as a yes and ducked under the cloth, covering himself and her from all outside view. John was amazed when he took the sight of her in for the first time. She was enchanting. With her indignant and wide hazel eyes set upon him. Her dark hair had been pinned up but with her current state had shaken free a few errant soft strands, framing her features in a most appealing way. Her pretty red mouth was set in a frown and her cheeks flushed pink with either anger or embarrassment. He couldn't tell which. It was hard to believe his own eyes. This young woman was seducing him far more than any woman had and she hadn't even spoken a word. Intrigued, he stared at her with the smallest hint of a smile and then looked around at the insides of this dress. Realizing that it was better to view it from the outside he lifted the fabric up over their hands and released it to settle on the sewing form. John looked over it once more and then back to Kathryn who resumed to pick at it with her needle as if nothing happened.

"That has to look beautiful on you."

Without so much as looking up from her stitching, she pulled a colored thread with her teeth and replied in a dull, unimpressed tone.

"I do not wear the costumes Mr. Wilmot, I merely make them."

He crooked an eyebrow delightedly. Finally! Someone worth the chase...

"Oh, so you do know who I am..."

Her brows creased in concentration over her work as she held a conversation with him.

"Yes Sir, I do. But just because your reputation precedes you and you are a favorite of royalty. It'll do you good to remember you a but only a hair-shy above myself in class, so that doesn't mean that I will dress up like a little doll for you."

He chuckled in amusement which earned him a deadly glare from her. Wetting his lips noticibly with his tongue, John leaned casually on his cane and smirked.

"Well I think you should. You're far too pretty to have your head buried behind french silks. Only a woman of your beauty could carry off something like that. You should be wearing them! I'll be the one with my head underneath the skirts from now on."

He hadn't meant it as a sexual connotation...not really. Even though the draw to his voice projected otherwise. He was actually attempting to make a joke at his own expense. His reputation as a lover was widely known. But, from the looks of things, Kathryn was having none of it. She closed her eyes to try to gather her composure and took a deep breath to sustain her inner thoughts from running rampant. If she spoke her true mind, the Earl might get more than he bargained for in the manner of degradation. She pursed her lips tightly together and continued hemming the skirt. Only allowing herself one lick at his moral character.

"I'm far too sarcastic for your liking, I assure you. However, if you are looking for someone with the same childish wit, there is a bar maiden across the street who may be more of your taste. Her known name is Trixy. I'm sure you can only guess why..."

On the contrary, John quite liked this unaffected mistress. Her condescension and intolerance of his advances only seemed to charm him more. She was a fine opponent and rather she ignored him or indulged him, he didn't care. He wasn't about to give up. He smirked to himself and posed her with another question.

"What is it about me that ails you so? Am I besmirched to think that you will not have me if I resumed to try and steal you?

She actually laughed. A beautiful bell of a laughter, however flippant it was. It left him with shivers down his spine. He let the feeling rest over him and rolled his neck to the side. She raised her head up and looked at him, arcing a brow.

"If indeed, that was what you were trying to do Dear Earl, I suggest you try harder because I didn't even take notice. Next time, try stating your intentions forthright, but do not do them with me. It'll only be wasted breath that leaves you."

He smiled and his eyes lit up in a fashion that they hadn't been in a while. He was genuinely amused with this woman. He secretly loved the way she spat out his title in such a poisoned form. He held endearment for her in his gaze and his fingers itched to trace themselves down the line of her jaw.

"Rest easy Darling, knowing that any breath on you, wasted or not, is time more pleasurably spent by me than if I had a whole harem of ladies at my beckoned call."

She snorted lightly and moved out of his arm's range. Picking a thimble out of her pocket, she added a ribbon trimming to the dress. John just watched her with a patient fascination. For a moment he thought she had forgotten that he was standing there. When Kathryn spoke next, her voice was a scoffed but dignified tone, thick with sarcasm.

"Forgive me for thinking this, but I would've thought you would already have that easy comfort.

He shook his head. It was true. He could have many women in London. But he they often bored him too quickly. She was different, and anything different was an addiction to John. So, he continued to pry her just to see what remark would come next. He stepped closer and whispered

"Perhaps your right. But now, after meeting you, the company of others simply won't do."

She couldn't believe the utter nerve of this man.

"Oh Really? Well, don't I feel like one of the lucky ones?"

John chuckled.

"You should Love, that you should..."

Kathryn began to pray that he would leave her alone soon. At this rate, she wouldn't get any work done and this dress had to be finished before the next curtain call

"Well Darling, I must be off. I have much to do."

He paused when she showed signs of relief.

"Well Mr. Wilmot I do believe that is only thing we have in common."

She made a small gesture to the other pile of costumes from the play. When her eyes glanced at her awaiting work, John took a step in closer and whispered seductively in her ear.

"Do not be deceived Love, we have more in common than you think and I shall show you soon enough. I'll return this evening around seven."

Kathryn's eyes met his, wide-eyed and confused. He reassured her.

"You do have another evening matinee yes?"

Damnit... She nodded regrettably. John gave her a brilliant and handsome smile.

"Splendid."

Kathryn couldn't believe her luck. Why her? Why had he chosen her to pick upon? She shook her head. John adjusted his coat and picked up his hat from it's spot on the floor, placing it on his head. In their shared silence, he heard Kathryn sigh in frustration. Her voice was barely audible at that point, but he heard it.

"You just don't give up do you?"

He smiled his charming smile and looked at her with a mischievous eye.

"Never...see you at seven."

With that, he tipped his hat at her with his cane and sauntered out of the stage door, his cane clicking briskly on the wood below it.