A/N: Eyyyy, y'alright guys? I know, I know, I've been away for bloody ages, and I apologise for just not updating...well, anything - BUT, I've been disgustingly stressed and will be for the next month or so. However, after all of my exams go ridiculously well (- this is a lie), I will definitely, definitely be updating erm...quite regularly I suppose.
Anyway, chapter two! I'm feeling the need to celebrate its completion with a cup of tea, however, the kettle is too far away and it's just far too English to explain why I don't like our new teabags. (Alas, we've run out of PG Tips, for whoever's interested.)
Teabags aside, I hope people are still OK with this storyline, since I bloody love it firstly, and secondly, it's probably the most fun I've had writing a story - and so educational too! (I just love trips to Wikipedia, don't you? Bet you didn't know I was researching things like "Astronomy 1800s" and "Viscounts" to write this chapter... Yea, I know i'm cool, you don't have to tell me twice.)
So yea, sorry about the rant - Tips for chapter 2:
Tip one! - Viscount is pronounced "Vye-count". It's like saying "Bye count!" but don't say it like that because that's not a word, nor is it a real phrase.
Tip two! - Remember, this is a VH fic, m'dears. Don't start getting all confused on me now.
Tip three! - Adomwood is, quite clearly, not a real place, but anyway, Van's Daddy-o is the Earl of it and I was trying to link the whole "Adom" thing in with the film.
Failure? Perhaps.
Gosh this is long - apologies. ENJOY!
Edited 16/02/14: Hello lovelies. Wow I really talked a lot of crap when I wrote these author's notes all those years ago... (facepalm) But I shan't get rid of them, they remind me of the FOLLIES OF YOUTH.
Anyhoo, please see chapter one for an explanation as to why these chapters have been revamped. As for this one in particular, I really only tweaked a few sentences and cut a few superfluous/weird bits of description.
Thanks for your support and please enjoy!
o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
"Poppycock!"
A shrill, practically operatic voice sang out above the string quartet, causing a few nearby gentlemen to turn briefly as they sauntered past. Needless to say, after doing so, they showed no further interest in the rotund widow's exclamation.
The chubby woman fanned herself rather exaggeratedly as Hitomi hastily edged her chair closer.
"Liddy, you must swear to me you will not tell a soul!" She urged, her voice lowering to a violent whisper, "And it is not poppycock, I can tell you."
Overcoming her surprise fairly rapidly, Liddy, or the Widow Damask as she was known to the ton, raised one greying, amused eyebrow.
"My dear girl, I doubt there is a soul here who knows who you are—"
"That may be true," Hitomi interrupted, scanning those around them briefly before turning back to her trusted, if untactful, confidant, "But there are those who may know who he is."
Liddy guffawed, "Dear child, did you not literally just reveal to me that you yourself had not an inkling? Even when he kissed y—"
"Hush, Liddy—"
"Oh poppycock!" The widow repeated defiantly, "Am I allowed no fun in my old age?!"
"Certainly not," Hitomi half-smiled, "It is not becoming for a widow to actually be merry."
Liddy chuckled thoughtfully, "Indeed."
Their heads were drawn to the dance-floor as the waltz began to play, tracking their charges respectively amongst the array of sausage curls and puff sleeves. Hitomi noticed Merle at once, dancing with a rather anxious looking young man, no more than three and twenty at most. She saw the debutante smile sweetly at him, artificially of course, as they twirled masterfully between the other couples, and almost chuckled when she noticed the unsuspecting man's brow beaded with sweat.
However, when she also took note of how Merle's eyes appeared to be darting around the room, as if to subtly search faces and scan corners, her fond smile vanished, and was swiftly replaced by an all too familiar frown. It had taken the entirety of the previous fortnight for the debutante to repent and indeed apologise for what she'd unwittingly done right under Hitomi's nose at the last party, and, fool that she was, Hitomi had believed the promise she'd made:
"I am so very sorry, Hitomi. I am so naïve…I…Believe me when I say that I will never go near that wretched man again!"
Needless to say, at this very moment, Hitomi very much doubted the honesty of the affirmation.
"My dear, you look positively mystified," Liddy interjected, fanning herself gently, "Do tell."
Hitomi turned to her, fake smile already in position, "Oh, it is nothing, Liddy." Her eyes darted to the fan, currently clasped in her friend's chubby fingers, "Just the heat getting to me."
The widow nodded in sympathy before continuing to fan herself in a more overstated fashion.
"On my life, it is warm for April!" She proclaimed melodramatically.
The truth of the matter was that it actually was warm for April. And the feather in the rather sweat-dampened cap as it were, was that this particular evening, the heavens had decided to open yet again, causing a practically tropical, humid climate to fall across London and, more importantly, inside the ballroom they were currently sitting in. The result of this catastrophe, was that none of the doors leading onto the terrace could be opened due to the pouring rain, though they were, unfortunately, the only possible source of any sort of breeze. So, in light of this, the hostess had simply ordered bucketfuls of iced lemonade to be available to guests, and then had overseen herself that fans were distributed to every lady shortly afterwards. A few, ill-fated footmen had actually been placed along the walls with fans of their own, in an effort to cool every poor, sweating soul that strolled ungratefully past.
Liddy beckoned one over with a practiced flick of the hand. The young man complied warily.
"Do be a little more vigorous with that fan, my dear boy," She glanced at Hitomi, her mouth twitching in a knowing smile as she murmured, "Every woman is appreciative of a little…vigour in a man, is she not?"
Hitomi opened her mouth in sheepish horror before glancing up at the footman, who appeared to be reddening and more than a little confused. Poor boy.
"And move closer!" The widow ordered, turning back to him, "Or else I am sure I will melt in this dreadful heat wave."
The footman swallowed, "Yes, milady", and began fanning at an increased rate.
Hitomi rolled her eyes, smiling as she trained her gaze back to the dance floor.
As the waltz came to an end, she looked for Merle amongst the crush, and her thoughts were yet again drawn to whether the two weeks of "house arrest" had actually done the chit any good. She had originally hoped that depriving the debutante of parties and dinners and, more importantly, suitors, would have given her time to calm down, perhaps rethink her strategies for taking a husband. However, judging by the shifty behaviour she had witnessed just minutes beforehand, she was no longer so sure of any such redemption taking place.
In fact, it had probably only served to embitter the girl.
Her eyes widened.
"My dear, where has your charge got to? I cannot see that ghastly hair of hers anywhere."
Swallowing, Hitomi prepared for the inevitable clench in her gut.
Because she had just been thinking exactly the same thing.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-8-8-8-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Forty minutes.
Forty minutes she had been searching, and every one of those minutes had been positively brimming with stomach-wrenching anxiety.
Hitomi had examined practically every room in the vast London townhouse; the kitchen (twice), several bedrooms and even the unused nursery had been inspected (all to the absolute horror of surrounding footmen, of course), and none of them had yielded any sort of result. Honestly, she was beginning to tire of the immature game Merle seemed so intent on playing, however that did not mean she was willing to just sit back and let the girl rid herself of her virtue in one fell swoop.
Oh no, it most certainly did not.
She descended the stairs for the third time that evening, and after scanning the ballroom once more whilst passing the large, ornate archway, she stalked down the hallway to the final room she had yet to search.
From what she could decipher from its outward appearance, its door appeared to be that of some sort of study or library, however she could not tell exactly what lay within. She was quite certain though, of who lay within, since there was absolutely nowhere else to which they could possibly have run.
This time she would catch Merle, hopefully with the man she intended to box round the ears.
She pushed open the door without knocking.
"Aha— oh damn…"
Yet again, she found herself in a completely empty space, devoid of Merle, an unintelligent heir to a fortune, or any other vaguely human being.
She walked in, closing the door behind her and adjusting her eyes to the somewhat darkened surroundings.
An unnecessary fire blazed in the hearth behind a large, intimidating desk covered in letters and papers, and it seemed she had been correct in guessing the room's use. It was both a study and a library, since its walls consisted of rows upon rows of various tomes of this, that and the other, some collecting dust and others practically falling apart through overuse. She assumed that whoever used this room must be learned, or at least well read.
At this point, she searched her mind for the name of the party's hostess, in hopes she would recall the mention of any husband or heir that may be an academic, or perhaps just very interested in literature.
Lady Funnel, was it? Fonnelle? Fennel…something foreign-sounding like that.
Merle had seemed especially eager to attend this particular soirée, she recalled. In fact, now she thought about it, Hitomi remembered the debutante going on about someone in particular who she was desperate to meet (and apparently "ensnare") this evening, and she hadn't been talking about her infamous "friend" either (otherwise known as the blonde gentleman). No…she had said something… something about a Viscount?
Hitomi took a few steps toward a particularly worn looking bookcase before coming to an abrupt halt.
Fanel. That was the name of the hostess.
Her eyes widened.
Oh good Lord.
Merle expected to ensnare the Viscount Fanel?!
Eldest living son to the Earl of Adomwood, heir to a vast sum of money no doubt and, undoubtedly, one of the more well-known rogues in this part of the country, or indeed any part…
By God, that girl was naïve to think she even stood a chance.
And for the life of her, Hitomi had absolutely no idea why they had even been invited to this party. Surely news of Merle's "charms" had not reached the Viscount, who must be ten years her senior at the very least.
Surely.
Shaking her head in utter bewilderment, Hitomi reached out toward the bookcase, skimming her fingers over the cracked spines she longed to hold in her hands, to immerse herself in. She was sure that whoever the room belonged to must do so on a regular basis.
And who, in fact, did it belong to?
The Earl?
Possibly, although it was well-known fact that he seldom came to London, due to his poor health. Indeed, he was certainly not present this evening.
So that left the Viscount.
But Hitomi was sure such a rich and powerful man would have better things to do than read.
Chase women, perhaps?
Either way, she was impressed with the collection. As her eyes took in the titles on every shelf, she became more and more jealous, more and more anxious just to open one and breathe in every wonderously unfamiliar word. She bit her lip as her gaze was drawn to a particularly well-thumbed tome, out of line with the rest, obviously due to a recent re-reading. Crooking her neck to read the title, she squinted, mouthing the bold letters.
"G-A-E-A…"
She straightened, "Gaea?"
And she didn't know what possessed her to reach out for it, to remove it from its resting place and feast her eyes on its bound cover…but somehow she just…let herself.
She swallowed, glancing at the door briefly. A voice in the back of her mind chided her, told her to put the book down, to leave the stifling heat of the room and continue her search for Merle.
Yet her heart screamed "No".
Just for a moment..
Taking a deep breath, she banished all thoughts of the troublesome debutante as she turned to the first page, her fingers delicately, secretively skimming over the yellowing paper.
"Gaea," She read aloud once more as she reached the title, her eyes feasting on the page, "A novel of the stars."
She smiled, intrigued to discover who had written such mysterious words.
And yet, when she looked for the author, the only script she found consisted of two small hastily scrawled letters at the base of the page.
F.F.
How mysterious indeed!
Why would someone do such a thing?
Frowning, her fingers lifted in preparation to turn the page and find out. Unfortunately, that was when she heard the door open.
Without a second to even consider what she was going to say to whomever was poised to enter, she rested the book haphazardly on the edge of the shelf and practically leapt into the centre of the room, so as to appear utterly innocent. Nevertheless, she was absolutely prepared for another scolding from a displeased footman.
What she was certainly not prepared for however, was the man who actually entered.
She froze as he came into view, unable to move a muscle as his dark gaze settled, surprised, on her own. Something passed over his defined features briefly.
"The unbearable chaperone," He murmured, his voice low and even, his eyes dancing in the firelight, "May I ask why you're in here?"
Hitomi swallowed as she took in the figure he cut in dark, superbly fitted evening clothes. His ebony hair was still a touch too wavy to be fashionable, still pirate-like and charming as the half-smile he was showing her at that very moment; his eyes were still mesmerisingly deep, their richness languid and sensuous as she watched them drift over her.
"I-I might ask you precisely the same question." She retorted, more coolly than she thought possible, considering the sudden racing of her heart.
The rogue's smile widened after a moment, "Unfortunately I cannot tell you my reasons, chick. But I am still rather interested in yours."
The governess straightened up, her confidence returning at an alarming rate.
"I am not a 'chick', Sir, and I would rather you not pry into my business when you seem so secretive of your own." She rested her hands on her hips, defiantly.
Taking a few steps forward, the amused half-stranger closed the door behind him, much to Hitomi's dismay.
"Not a chit, not a chick…" He feigned confusion, his smile pure wickedness, "Tell me, sweetheart, how is it you wish to be addressed by a man?"
Hitomi blinked at his astonishingly good memory, as well as his audacity, "W-Well, certainly I do not approve of 'sweetheart'."
"Really?" The dark-haired rogue approached her, stalked her, a panther, tuned remarkably to the atmosphere of the room.
"Really, Sir. Now if you'll excuse me—" She made an effort to walk past him.
"Always in such a rush, aren't you darling?" His arm caught her slim waist, halting her progress to the door.
The governess scowled, turning to look at him, "I am not your 'darling'."
"Of course not, sweeting." His eyes held hers, unreadable; dark, "Now tell me what business you have entering a man's private study."
"Tell me yours and perhaps I will." She offered, resisting the urge to pout like a spoiled child.
The rogue raised an unimpressed brow, "I asked you first." He conceded coolly, his smile wavering somewhat.
Hitomi attempted to struggle from the man's firm grip, "Well if you would perhaps un-hand me—"
"Who told you where to find it, first of all."
She gave up, her arms falling limply from where they had been attacking the hand, virtually pried onto her waist, "Nobody told me anything! This was merely the last room I had yet to search—"
"Search for what?"
Hitomi's scowl darkened.
"Who are you?" She demanded, her eyes searching his, "Asking me all these questions when you have absolutely no right!" She struggled again, "Especially when it is clear that we are both trespassing! You sir, are—"
He pulled her to him, ceasing her aggressive movements immediately as their bodies came unnecessarily close.
"Tell me what you were searching for." He muttered, smile erased, stare hot and intense, lips mere inches from her own.
She swallowed, suddenly aware of how very warm the air in the room was.
Or perhaps it was just the memory of his mouth on hers.
"I-I will report you to the Viscount…" She threatened, although her voice somehow came out as little more than a rasp.
A hint of amusement drew back into the stranger's fiery gaze.
"That may prove rather pointless, I'm afraid, chick."
Hitomi glanced up at him in surprise.
"How so…?"
He gave a low, amused chuckle.
"Because—"
The door opened without warning.
Hitomi all but jumped out of the stranger's embrace, and fortunately, he let her do so just in time. A butler entered, dipped his head to him, and completely ignored the reddening governess as she stared determinedly at the floor.
"Lord Fanel, your Mother has requested your presence in the ballroom for the next waltz."
Her eyes widened.
She looked up immediately to see him…the stranger, sigh in what appeared to be mild annoyance.
"Did she give any particular reason, Jones?" He asked the butler, not even glancing her way.
Jones nodded.
"Indeed, my Lord, she said you'd ask for one. She said—" At this point, he removed a small piece of paper from his pocket and read from it in an utterly bland drawl, "'Do stop being such a bore, Van. There is many a girl here who would love a dance with the Viscount – do humour me and associate with at least one of the fairer sex this evening. It's not as if you must marry every single one.'"
The butler replaced the paper in his pocket, his face absolutely blank as he waited for a reply.
Hitomi couldn't stop her jaw from dropping ungracefully.
At this point, the Viscount Fanel sighed again.
"Tell her I will be there shortly."
Jones nodded, "Very good, my Lord."
And with that, he left them, closing the door.
The room was completely silent, save for the telltale flicker of the fire and, if one listened closely, the raindrops pelting on the nearby window.
After a moment or two of artificial, awkward calm, Hitomi broke the stillness.
"Forgive me, my Lord." She said at last, her gaze trained back on the floor, "I was not…not aware that this was your study."
"Yes I gathered that." He approached where she stood, near the centre of the carpet.
She swallowed.
"I…I am sorry, but I had no reason to even suspect—"
"That a man enter his own study? Well of course not."
Her head shot up.
"There is no need to patronise me, my Lord." Hitomi caught his semi-amused expression, "My foolishness is quite apparent without mockery."
The Viscount smiled briefly, "Mm, I'm not so sure."
Hitomi felt a familiar ire smouldering under her skin.
"Well, if you remember correctly, my Lord," She enunciated exaggeratedly, "Never at any point did you actually tell me how to address you!"
"Are you also aware that you did exactly that?"
"That is not the point!"
"That is exactly the point, chick."
"Will you desist in using that awful endearment?!"
He smiled, "What would you have me call you then? You seem so terribly opposed to my charm."
"Perhaps my name would not go amiss?" She retorted sarcastically, crossing her arms, "Although I suppose you do not know it…And your charm leaves a lot to be desired, I assure you."
That seemed to strike a nerve, she noticed, as his smile fell and he crossed his arms to mimic hers.
"And what do you mean by that?" He asked, bemused.
"I mean precisely what I say."
"Please elaborate."
Hitomi made a noise of pure detestation and irritation, and could only reply:
"You are an arrogant cad!"
Their gazes locked for a moment.
The viscount's grin returned.
And Hitomi was so busy wondering why, that she almost fell over when he closed the remaining distance between them. He caught her as she tripped, held her close as his face loomed above hers, firelight dancing on its hard planes and edges, his eyes alive, alight. He tipped her chin up gently.
"I would wager," He murmured softly, his voice woven with seduction and heat, "that you had no such thoughts when I kissed you."
The governess swallowed at his close proximity, at his words…at the memories he stirred inside her.
She licked her lips, "I have no idea what you're talking about—"
"You're blushing." He whispered, his mouth twitching at one of the corners.
"I am not blushing!" Raising her hands to her cheeks, she attempted to cover the evidence, "It is just…very warm in here."
"You have my most sincere apologies." The Viscount took her hands from her cheeks, putting them to his chest before replacing his own around her waist.
Hitomi was mildly surprised to find that she let him, and also rather taken aback to discover his heartbeat matched the increased pace of her own.
Her eyes hooded when he leaned in closer towards her, their lips almost touching.
"Though I believe the reason your blood is heated so," He breathed, "is more likely because you want me to do this."
And then he—
Something knocked against the outside of the door.
"How about this one, Allen, I hear nobody inside…"
Aside from experiencing a horrible bolt of déjà vu, Hitomi felt as if the whole atmosphere had just been doused by a bucket of iced lemonade.
"Merle, my love," Came a familiar baritone, "Just open the bloody door before I break it down. Meet me in there after I…"
Giggling accompanied a set of footsteps echoing down the hall.
By this point, both the room's inhabitants had surfaced from their little heated moment, heads trained on the door, bodies still close and hearts still racing, although now for another reason entirely.
"It's Merle!" Hitomi whispered hurriedly as the viscount turned back to her, "She cannot see me this way! She simply cannot—"
He let go of her abruptly, "Hide over there," gesturing roughly towards the curtains by the window, he walked briskly to the door, "and stay quiet until I leave with her."
"Leave with her—?"
"Go!"
Without further delay, she complied.
Van drew the door open.
And Merle Rogers almost had a heart attack.
"Is there something I can help you with, Miss Rogers?" He asked coolly, straightening his coat.
Needless to say, the debutante was speechless.
"I…no my Lord, I was merely…" she stammered, probably for the first time in her life, "I was…"
Her eyes flashed as she latched onto an idea.
"I was looking for my chaperone actually… h-have you seen her?"
The Viscount regarded her, amused.
"I'm afraid I have not seen Miss Kanzaki this evening." He smiled, "But I am certain she is searching for you as we speak."
Merle looked positively mystified as to how he'd known Hitomi's name.
And behind the curtain in the study, Hitomi poked her head out to demonstrate her own confusion.
Unfortunately, the door concealed Van completely, making the action fairly pointless.
"Shall I escort you to the ballroom, Miss Rogers?" He held out his arm; Merle stared at it in wonder. "Perhaps then I could fetch you some lemonade, you look quite flushed."
The young woman looked up at him, unable to conceal her eagerness for him to do so, "Why, that would be lovely! But you need not trouble yourself for me, I am quite capable of fetching my own…"
Their voices faded down the hall as the door closed.
And it was only a few seconds after this that Hitomi let the full extent of the situation sink in.
…
And yet all she could manage was a resounding, "What?!", which echoed around the room, embedding itself in the bookcases.
It eluded her how the Viscount could be such a gentleman after he'd just…just man-handled her in such a manner!
However, with no time to waste on such unanswerable things, she hurried to the door after flinging aside the curtains, opening it in order to peer out into the hallway. When the coast was completely clear, she darted out into the deserted corridor, hoping to god that nobody had seen—
Well, in all honesty, it was clear that nobody would take any notice, even if they had seen her; nobody ever took any notice.
But even so, as she walked hurriedly back to the ballroom, she reached up to retouch her hair (what was left of it anyway), though she doubted even Liddy would bother to ask where she had been.
Would anybody ever bother?
Perhaps she should try wearing something more…daring to the next party. Perhaps something that wasn't brown…perhaps something that showed her figure, that showed skin.
Maybe then somebody would look her way.
But it was at this point, entering the dance hall, that she began to ask herself…
Did she even want anybody to look at her?
Certainly not, if they were anything like him.
-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-8-8-8-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-
Cripes, as we English supposedly say all the time.
Well, I'd love to hear from you guys as to what you think.
Be honest please! And if you've read it, review it, since I'd do exactly the same to you, and it's only fair, okeys?
Toodles!
