What's the Problerm with You?

No longer was Laurence Chamberlain's face that of an adolescent, now a man of seventeen, Laurence's flaxen hair was worn down to his shoulders, his was a light brow, just above his perfectly formed lips, he boasted a light brown mustache, all of these physical attributes accented his magnificent pale green eyes.

His smile was wide and disarming, though not wily enough to a smuggler, but coy enough to belong to a philanderer. Laurence considered himself quite the athlete and scholar. He was educated at the finest schools, Eaton this year, Oxford the next. His best subject was the debates, there wasn't anyone quite as cunning to match wits with the young Earl, never was he defeated on the week's social issues. An avid fox hunter, Laurence excelled both on and off of the hunting grounds, no young lady was able to resist his charm or educated eloquence, and his athletic form, he was both broad shouldered and slender, the head of every eligible debutante and commoner alike, was so easily turned by his dashing good looks, the quiet worship these daughters rained on him, earned Laurence, a sullied reputation. Strolling casually into the stables, equipped with his riding crop and boots, Laurence approached Mr. Gibbs, the horse groomsman. Mr. Gibbs was finishing up on Laurence's horse when he encountered the young Earl. "Is she ready, Mr. Gibbs? I recall informing you the evening last I would be taking him out this morning." Laurence arrogantly reminded him.

Mr. Gibbs received him with a smile, though secretly he was frowning on the inside at his crudeness. "I should say so, My Lord," Mr. Gibbs replied while saddling up the horse. "But, I wouldn't go taking him too far out, I hear there's a mighty storm heading this way!" The groomsman warned. "I will worry about that for myself, Mr. Gibbs, thank you for showing concern," Laurence's grateful smile was quick to disappear. "You just mind my horse, which is after all what you were hired for, is it not?" Laurence swiftly mounted his horse. "Lord Wilcott and I arranged to ride this morning, and I refuse to change my plans." He sneered at Mr. Gibbs before galloping out of the stables.

Laurence was joined by Lord Wilcott, the young, dark-haired Ivan inherited his father's title of Viscount the past summer, and already he was serious to follow in the astute footsteps of his father. To the right of Laurence, seated atop his horse was the dark-haired Viscount, Lord Wilcott, the two of them were returning to the grounds, near the main house. "What again is the name of this lass, which has struck my dear friend so absolutely smitten?" Laurence teased his compatriot. Ivan immediately began to blush, the mere thought of her, started his heart to racing.

"Her name is Rosemary." Ivan boyishly grinned. "Now then, that wasn't so difficult was it, Rosemary sounds positively lovely!" Laurence raved. "I warn you to be mindful if ever you should mention her in front of my mother." Ivan frowned. Laurence turned slightly to face Ivan. "And why might that be? Your mother has always been the trusting sort?"

"Forget it, Laurence, where it concerns my mother, it is who I will marry? Why did my father have to die and leave this dreadful title to hang on me, she would not be so wrapped up in my courting, to marry this one, but not that one," Ivan shook his index finger, playfully mocking his mother.

"What is it about this, Rosemary, you are not telling me, Ivan?" The young Viscount was struck silent. Laurence leaned in to inquire. "Do you love her, Ivan?" Ivan quietly bowed his head. He was embarrassed to reply. "I may just be, I hope." Ivan slightly lifted his chin. "So then why the secrecy, Ivan, if you love her, you love her," Ivan broke in. "Not unlike the horses you ride, Laurence, Rosemary does not travel in our circles." He explained. "Is she worth loving, Ivan?" Laurence asked. Ivan was at first silent, but was quick to admit the truth. "Yes I do . . . very . . . much so." He smiled. Laurence nodded his head. "I must say, you certainly have got me curious," He laughed. "I do insist you tell me more about this Rosemary?"

"There is not much to tell, I do not know her well enough to say, but I do appreciate the company . . . " Distracted, Ivan went on, but somehow he lost Laurence's interest, rather than listen to Ivan's dilemma, Laurence was somehow consumed by what was going on around him.

As Ivan went on, Laurence's eyes were drawn ahead of him. Strolling together in the garden was his father and the Countessa Corina Gaetan. Laurence had their union counted out, for three-hundred and sixty-two days, they were together, that was near a year, and he hoped it would not last another.

"What disrespect he lays at the foot of my mother's grave!" He growled under his breath. Ivan stopped his chatter once he detected Laurence' s discontented growling. As his friend, Ivan stopped mid-sentence. "Laurence, what's wrong?" His heart began to race, it was a blend of blind hatred and unsurpassable fury, his anger drew the blood up to the surface of his skin, his face burned a vibrant red, and the veins in his neck screamed a throbbing blue. "The Countessa is here again, I say its about time the two of them went their separate ways!" Laurence insisted through clenched teeth.

"Why so hostile, Laurence, are you always this spent when the Countessa Gaetan comes to visit?" Ivan innocently shrugged. Laurence snapped his head around and glared at Ivan. "She is trying to take my mother's place, Ivan, and I will not have it!" He charged. Overcome by his own anger, Laurence sped off on his horse. Ivan knew well enough not to follow, he stayed behind and watched from a safe distance.