A Cinderella for the Viscount

by Liz Tyner

  * * *

  Footsteps in the hallway silenced their words.

  Payton strolled into view, his arms spread to grasp the doorframe, and leaned in. ‘Ready to leave—?’ He stopped when he saw Rachael and gave her a quick bow of his head. ‘So pleased that you are doing fine today, Miss Albright. I wanted to let Devlin know I’m about to leave. A business meeting we should attend. Cosgrove’s.’ He turned to Devlin. ‘You?’

  ‘Go without me,’ he said.

  Payton spoke. ‘Large sums at stake. You should come along.’

  ‘Miss Albright is still suffering from the incident. I cannot leave her.’

  Miss Albright’s mouth opened, and she regarded Devlin. ‘You must attend to your work.’

  ‘I can always catch up later.’

  Payton chortled. ‘An opportunity wasted for ever. Don’t let him mislead you, Miss Albright. Only one thing is more important than duty to Devlin and that is chivalry.’ He made a fist and thumped his arm over his heart. ‘The family honour demands that a lady’s comfort comes first. Always.’

  ‘Of course. Go on to your appointment.’ Devlin studied his fingernails. ‘Just don’t let anyone cheat at cards.’

  Payton clucked his tongue. ‘You’ve given me such an idea. I could pilfer Alfred’s marked cards, replace them with an exact set, but the spots indicating different cards.’ He shut his eyes tight. ‘Wouldn’t that be the biggest tale of the century. Right after I took his money, I’ll let him in on how I did it.’

  ‘You’d get yourself challenged to a duel.’

  Payton laughed. ‘Why not? Even that could be fun, if done correctly.’ He touched his chin. ‘Can pillows be chosen as a weapon?’ He nodded. ‘The problem isn’t with duelling—it is in the choice of weapons.’

  ‘Well, if you’re interested in a duel,’ Rachael inserted, ‘could you be so kind as to fight one over me? It would be grand if Mr Tenney thought, if only for an instant, that someone should be so infatuated with me that they might think I’m worthy of such attention.’

  Devlin observed her.

  ‘You want Devlin and me to fight a duel over you?’ Payton beheld her as if the last bit of her brain had fluttered out of the window.

  ‘It’s not so farfetched,’ Devlin commented. Payton didn’t have to appear shocked at the suggestion of someone fighting a duel over Rachael.

  ‘Of course.’ Payton caught himself. He pointed a finger and waved it rapidly between himself and Devlin. ‘I just don’t feel like shooting anyone today, or ever. Or running anyone through with a sword, particularly someone I could win money from at a card game.’

  ‘I have a fine pair of duelling pistols,’ Devlin said. ‘They’ve never been used and Grandfather purchased them new.’

  Payton’s eyes widened. ‘You’ve lost your senses.’

  Devlin shook his head. ‘A lady’s honour is at stake, Payton.’

  Payton’s mouth opened, and he didn’t speak for a second, then he turned to Rachael. ‘Miss Albright, if I have done the slightest thing to impugn your honour, I heartily retract it. I would wound myself before I would hurt you.’

  ‘You’ve done nothing to offend me at all,’ Rachael reassured him. ‘I think you a fine person and a delight to know. In fact, you are raising my spirits.’

  Indignation flared in Devlin. His cousin was raising her spirits?

  ‘Then what is all this duelling business about?’ Payton asked Devlin. ‘You know how fond I am of my boots and it’s hardly likely that I’d want to get blood on them or be buried in them.’

  ‘What if I show up at the hunting box and act enraged that you have dared to speak unkind words to Miss Albright?’ Devlin asked.

  ‘No,’ Payton said. ‘Never would I speak distressfully to her. Never. No one would believe that of me.’

  ‘We can apologise after we see how close we have come to shooting each other over her. The story would make its way around London.’

  Rachael stood closer to Devlin to capture his attention. ‘That is kind of you, Devlin. Exceedingly kind. But that’s a considerable effort. It touches my heart.’

  ‘A duel could be a theatrical performance everyone is in on,’ Devlin suggested. ‘Those pistols may never have been fired and could remain that way.’

  ‘We’re family,’ Payton agreed. ‘We can’t fight—openly. And I rarely reflect on throttling you. Though now, I’m thinking, if I could be the victor, it might be a good plan.’

  ‘You’ve both brightened my spirits considerably and made me understand how foolish revenge is. Besides, I would only allow a duel fought with pillows.’ Rachael clasped her hands in front of herself. ‘Please forget we ever spoke such nonsense. I hope you both go to that business endeavour and that you don’t have marked cards.’

  Payton removed an imaginary sword from a scabbard, swirled it in the air before tucking it at his side. ‘Should you ever need a duel fought in your honour, you know you only have to ask Devlin and me. We will fight to the last feather in a pillow for you.’

  Then he doffed an invisible hat, gave her a bow suitable for a room of royals and turned to his cousin. ‘You sure you’re not going?’

  Devlin waved him on. ‘There will always be another card game, but Miss Albright is a guest and I want to stay here in case she needs someone to duel with.’

  ‘He is an excellent choice, Miss Albright.’ Payton extended his fingers and gave a rotating wave in a half-circle. ‘I must be off. All this talk of duelling has concerned me and I must distract myself with the solace and respectability of gambling.’ He darted out of the door.

  ‘You should go with him,’ Rachael told Devlin.

  ‘I meant what I said. I want to make sure you have this behind you.’ And if Tenney had second thoughts and arrived to throw himself at her mercy, he wanted to be there.

  He took stock of Rachael. He couldn’t imagine her being so gullible as to take Tenney back. He believed she’d realised she didn’t truly love him and it was a relief. He didn’t want to think of her suffering any more than she already had.

  But when he took stock of her, it dredged up the two hurts she’d just had. One physical and one mental. And yet her jaw was locked. She wasn’t weeping and she didn’t throw herself into his arms. He admired that in her.

  She shook her head. ‘There is no need. Really, now there isn’t. You’ve shown me that, while it may take a few days to put this behind me, it doesn’t matter. I am fortunate that this happened. Very. It may cause a tumble inside me, but I am thankful for it.’

  ‘Did you truly not care that much for him?’

  Rachael didn’t answer at first. ‘I did when he asked me to marry him. I believed I did, up until the words in the letter made sense to me. I had arranged my own marriage, thinking it would be a love match later. A marriage like my parents’.’ She laughed without humour. ‘I gambled more than your cousin will, I suppose, and bet on a losing hand. The cards were probably marked in front of my face and I didn’t know it.’

  She shook her head. ‘I bet on a losing hand. Now I have to live with the loss and the consequences.’

  Ire flashed through Devlin’s body. Women were to be protected. Particularly good-hearted ones such as Rachael.

  He would fight for Rachael’s honour. And it would be with the same determination that he’d managed to stay on top of the hill to keep his territory.

  Chapter Six

  Rachael could tell she was on the mend.

  The constant burning had dissipated and her steps didn’t hurt any more. As long as she stepped slowly and cautiously, she felt no pain.

  The carriage ride concerned her, but she wanted to get home, although she would miss Devlin.

  He’d had some of his meals with them and been attentive and ever so proper. Her mother glowed under the attention Devlin showered on the ladies at mealtimes and he could make his own
mother laugh at the slightest thing.

  She’d been surprised at the difference when he was in the room. Everyone seemed happier and conversation flowed more lightly.

  But she’d not talked privately with Devlin since they’d discussed her betrothal ending.

  She heard booted footsteps. Her skirts swirled as she rose. Devlin walked into the doorway and the sunshine from the window highlighted him, making him stand out against the dark hallway and seem bigger.

  Then she remembered him pulling her into his arms and lifting her. It was as if she’d weighed no more than a porcelain doll and he’d carried her with the same care.

  Now he stood in front of her and secretly she admired his strength. Not just in his body, but the power he took for granted that was given him by birth and the depths she suspected that were hidden under the surface, but no one detected because he humoured everyone so well.

  She shook the recollections of him from her mind. He was no more than a friend, but a friend was what she needed most. And having him for an ally had eased the awareness that Tenney didn’t want her.

  Devlin counted her a comrade and that was more value than a betrothed who considered her a burden.

  ‘I sent the letter.’

  He raised a brow.

  ‘I sent the letter to Ambrose.’ Yes, she would call him Ambrose to herself when she wished. He had said it would be romantic to wait until their wedding night to call each other by first names and endearments. She stifled a gasp that she had agreed to such a thing.

  Devlin watched her and she could tell he was aware of her gasp. ‘So, you must care for him.’

  She saw that he’d misinterpreted her action.

  ‘Not any more. I told him we must discuss our feelings in person. My mother is having a soirée next week and I had expected to announce the date of my marriage. He was to be there and I told him he must attend. I don’t think he planned to be present when he wrote the letter, but it is important to my mother, and Ambrose and I must have a chance to speak with each other.’

  Devlin’s jaw tightened, but then he relaxed and spoke in measured tones. ‘Don’t forget that you are to evaluate your interests first. Don’t be soft-hearted.’

  She put her head down, shaking it an infinitesimal amount. ‘I keep thinking he would never be such a boor. Yet I know now our betrothal was a mistake. A man who cared anything for me would have broached the subject with me, instead of dumping all the blame at my—’

  Devlin grunted.

  She raised her eyes to his. She couldn’t read his feelings and yet she could. She knew his opinion of Ambrose well.

  ‘Would I be able to have an invitation?’ he asked.

  ‘My mother would be honoured to have you.’ The weight of the event lifted from her heart as if carried by angel wings.

  ‘I would be the one honoured to be in your presence.’

  The statement created edgy happiness inside her and freed her from guarding her speech.

  ‘I so dread the next meeting with him. I never want to be near him again. I read the letter yet once more after we spoke and I cannot find any explanation other than he hopes I will end the betrothal.’ She needed him to grasp how she felt. ‘I have not failed and, yet, I have.’

  ‘How can you say that?’

  ‘Either I waited needlessly for a man who did not truly care for me, or I inadvertently caused him to fall out of love.’

  His eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t take the blame for all the ills in the world. No one is strong enough to bear the burden for every wrong and no one should have to.’

  ‘I waited patiently.’

  ‘You can’t undo the past. You must go forward.’

  ‘Spoken like a rake.’

  ‘A rake who sleeps like a babe.’

  ‘Because you have never lost your heart.’

  He took her hand, touching the finger where the stone had rested, uniting them in a way she didn’t think she’d ever connected with Ambrose.

  ‘Did you lose your heart to him. Truly?’ he asked.

  ‘A little bit of it. But not the whole. Maybe half.’ She shuddered. ‘Not the best half.’ She held up her little finger. ‘About this much. One sneeze and it’s gone.’

  ‘It’ll likely grow again, bigger and healthier than ever.’

  ‘Not for him. Now I am more irritated at myself for waiting all these years than I am for anything else. I’m wondering if...’ she hated to admit it ‘...if I did not push him to wed because I didn’t want to marry him either. And why did I not see that? I don’t know who to be angriest at. Him or myself.’

  ‘I can answer that for you. Him.’

  She pressed her lips firmly together.

  ‘The sooner you get over the anger, the better off you’ll be,’ he said. ‘But, please, before you toss Tenney from your life, let him believe you’re not breaking the betrothal. If he thinks he’s not getting what he wants, you’ll be more likely to witness his true self and you’ll be able to put him behind you so much faster.’

  ‘I’d hoped it was all a misunderstanding, but now, even if it is, I can’t go forward with a wedding.’

  He clasped the fourth finger on her left hand. ‘I would never wish for you to wed a person who doesn’t cherish you. Sharing a home with a person who finds reason to disparage you is like having shoes with thorns in them. It doesn’t matter how sturdy your shoe is, or how shiny, or how well-crafted it is, it’s still going to be an uneasy stride.’

  She raised a brow, her words light, but with an undercurrent of directness. ‘Are you happy?’

  Something passed behind his eyes. A barrier she’d never seen before, but then it faded.

  ‘Happiness? All that matters is how I can put other people at ease. It is natural to me and I’m fortunate I inherited the ability. As the eldest child, I’m to be the protector of our family name. To smooth things over.’

  ‘Are you happy?’ she repeated, a challenge in her voice.

  ‘I never think about whether I am or not. Happiness isn’t part of my role in life. And today—’ his fingertips traced her jawline, leaving a trail of awareness behind ‘—your happiness is what’s most important to me.’

  He retreated, the contact seeming to mean nothing to him. ‘If you will ensure that I get an invitation, then I will attend the soirée. It is totally up to you.’

  She watched him leave, his natural strength arousing the femininity in her and making her aware of the masculinity in him.

  She would see that he got an invitation. If someone had to be cut from the guest list, it would be Tenney.

  * * *

  Rachael’s mother had been ecstatic that the Viscount wanted to attend their soirée. In fact, she’d been overwhelmed that Devlin might wish to be there and immediately set about double checking everything for the night. Her father had claimed it the best idea he’d heard in a long time and extended the invitation to the Viscount’s entire family.

  She tried to carry on as if it were going to be the night she would reveal her wedding date. Every time her mother detected any hesitation, Rachael claimed it was because of the burns. In truth, the pain hardly ever returned, but she still had to be cautious about how she stepped and dancing sounded excruciating.

  Dancing wasn’t the only part of the evening which concerned her. She hoped she could trust Tenney not to cause any disruption—after all, she would be giving him what he wanted. If he reacted publicly with anything but composure, he could hurt his future prospects. And he would sense that he must act with decorum. At least, to everyone but her.

  * * *

  On the night of the celebration, right as a carriage arrived at the entrance of the house, Rachael asked her mother to forgo announcing the wedding plans to the guests. A look of concern flashed across the older woman’s face, but Rachael quickly reassured her mother with a kiss to the cheek.
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br />   A few moments later, Devlin walked into the room, his mother on his arm. Payton with them. The first ones to arrive. While Payton spoke with Rachael’s father, her mother greeted the Countess like a sister and, after some quick compliments, they immediately started talking about Rachael’s injury, their children and footwear almost in the same breath.

  Devlin gave her a slight shrug and a companionable look as if to say Mothers.

  His dark frock coat had no special buttons. His white cravat had a simple tie this time instead of the more elaborate one he’d worn at his mother’s event. He appeared taller in the dark evening dress with a plain neckcloth and she wondered if his tailor and valet knew the effect they were creating—she was convinced they did. The simpler dress suited him best.

  He wandered to her side, ostensibly to admire the fireplace carvings.

  ‘I’m dreading this,’ she said.

  ‘Best to get it over.’ His attention appeared to be on the fireplace.

  ‘Your father didn’t arrive?’ she asked.

  A flicker of his eyes in her direction. ‘No. He could not attend because Mother wanted to enjoy herself.’

  She hesitated, questioning him with her expression, and accepting his acknowledging nod.

  ‘I would also like to have a pleasant evening, but I suspect it will be impossible—’ his gaze glanced to the entrance ‘—since that friend of yours, if he can find his backbone, may also be here.’

  ‘I have mixed feelings. I am happy for a chance to get him out of my life, but I cannot ruin this night for my parents. And I would like...’ She drew in a deep breath. ‘I would like to just write him a letter and tell him it is over between us. Now I understand his cowardice.’

  ‘You may understand. You accept that it is easier, but you are still willing to handle it face to face. That is the difference between an adult and an immature blob of human flesh that is little better than what might be scraped from the sole of a boot. Not, of course, that I specifically am talking about Tenney.’