A Cinderella for the Viscount

by Liz Tyner

  He sounded irritated, but his smile was still in place and that heartened her. Then a troubling idea lodged itself in her mind. Was she jumping from one entanglement to another at a breakneck speed? A predicament that would end badly? She truly wasn’t in Devlin’s social world and she accepted that. She could never see herself as a leader in society and Devlin’s whole family was natural to that role.

  She examined Devlin’s face. No, they were entering a friendship. Her spirits blossomed. A true, lasting friendship was so rare. That would be much safer than anything else.

  How she hoped they would remain friends.

  ‘When he arrives, just remember to hold your head high—if he appears... You are entrancing. A goddess in human form.’ Devlin’s voice rolled over her, and settled, nestling against her.

  His words embraced her first and then concern crept in. She could not fall into a deeper crevasse upon leaping out of a shallow one.

  ‘Next time,’ she murmured. ‘Leave off the goddess part and I might believe you.’

  He laughed. ‘It’s true.’ Brushing a hand at her shoulders, he aligned his face near hers. ‘Remember, my job as a rake is not to lie, but to merely point out what others are noticing but not mentioning.’

  She wrinkled her nose, and he copied her movement, adding a teasing grin. But a little tickle of excitement lodged inside her. Devlin bolstered her spirits so and, when she compared him to Tenney who had always wanted to maintain decorum at all costs, Tenney felt more like an anchor than a beloved.

  Immediately afterwards, he noted more visitors arriving. Her aunt and uncle walked through the door and made their way to her mother.

  ‘Do you think your Tenney will be brave enough to show up after he made a complete fool of himself?’ he asked.

  She heard the emphasis as he’d said Tenney, but her mind focused on the word your and her jaw tightened. She didn’t correct Devlin, but Tenney was no longer hers...if he had ever been.

  No, she decided, he’d never been hers no matter how she had deluded herself.

  She returned to the conversation. ‘He should. In the note I sent him, I told him we must talk.’ Frowning, she added, ‘I wrote that we must have had a misunderstanding and I wished to clear it...and that my mother expects me to announce the date for our wedding tonight.’ She pressed her lips into a line. ‘It was a short missive. A paragraph when I’ve never written less than a page in the past.’

  His voice rumbled low. ‘I should have delivered it for you.’

  That image formed in her mind and she was forced to laugh. ‘I might have let you.’

  Now that she’d spoken with Devlin, the nervousness didn’t seem so overwhelming. She’d spent more time on her appearance than she’d ever spent on one night in her life. She feared her coiffure might tumble down if she changed direction too quickly. And she didn’t dare to bend over or her bosom might escape as well. And, of course, dancing would be a struggle with the new shoes and her having to take care not to reawaken the injury.

  ‘I expect to have a grand time.’ She put bravado in her words and waved her arm as if she were an empress. Then her courage plunged.

  ‘I’m a fraud,’ she whispered to him. ‘I saw the mirror and I didn’t even look like myself.’

  ‘Then there are two of you, both beautiful.’

  She pondered on his response. It would have been so easy for him to fumble with an answer. Tenney would have. If Devlin had complimented the woman in the mirror, then he would have insulted the true person she was. And if he’d praised the true her, it would have been an insult to the care she’d taken on her appearance.

  ‘You have a positive word for every situation.’

  ‘Except one. Remember, a man who’ll spout untruths about your nose will lie about anything. And I repeat, you have a stunning nose, equal to the absolute best in London.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I would have left it behind out of consideration for Mr Tenney’s feelings if I could have, but I decided that would attract too much notice.’

  He gave a quick clasp of her hand, and he smiled. ‘You will be fine tonight. You are in your home, surrounded by people who care for you.’

  Mentally, Rachael repeated the words of the letter, then reminded herself her nose was fine. In fact, it was almost the only part of her that felt normal.

  But even her eyes had appeared as though they belonged to someone else when she’d prepared for the evening. They’d been rimmed with a dark powder and appeared larger. Her lips had been stained.

  She’d even borrowed a heart-shaped necklace from her mother—one much larger than she normally would have chosen—and wore it.

  If men could go to battle wearing armour, she supposed she could go to a soirée wearing more jewels than usual.

  She even wore several rings, including Tenney’s, and her stomach had rebelled when she’d placed the jewel back on her finger. She wanted to have it returned to him.

  She remembered her hesitation when she’d first seen the gemstone. She should have listened to her instincts.

  When Tenney stepped into the room, it was as if a cold blast of air blew over the spot on the fourth finger of her left hand. She made a fist and her hand instantly warmed.

  Chapter Seven

  Devlin watched the event, keeping a view so he could be aware of each arrival. No one had attended yet who could have been Tenney.

  Payton’s hand appeared, seemingly out of nowhere. He seesawed his flat palm in front of Devlin’s face. ‘There are other people in the room besides your old flame.’

  ‘You dolt,’ Devlin retorted sharply.

  ‘If you would have said it, I would have laughed.’ Payton stood at Devlin’s side. ‘Mmm. She is rather fetching tonight. She can set me afire any time she wishes.’

  ‘Stay away—’ Devlin stopped. ‘Perhaps you would care to dance with her? After her beloved arrives.’

  ‘Of course.’ Payton smirked. ‘I could waltz with her for hours.’

  ‘Mind your manners. But let her know she’s endearing. Nicely.’ Devlin’s eyes narrowed even more. ‘And you will answer to my boot if you are anything but the perfect gentleman.’

  Payton chuckled. ‘I see how it is.’

  Devlin ignored Payton, his attention caught on the man with the over-dressed hair who had just walked through the door.

  ‘There he is,’ Devlin said, as the man’s eyes searched out Rachael. ‘I would wager that is the peahen she is betrothed to.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve heard he’s rather clever. Has plans to step up the social ladder if the ingratiatingly annoying way he once introduced himself to my father is any indication.’

  ‘He’s not as clever as he thinks he is.’

  ‘None of us is,’ Payton said. ‘Including you. You’re still playing with fire.’

  Devlin shot his cousin a glare, but couldn’t keep his attention from Rachael. She’d noticed Tenney and the recognition caused her to tense, her steps wobbling. Tenney stared at her.

  Irritation simmered inside Devlin.

  Tenney didn’t even acknowledge Rachael. Instead, he headed straight for the refreshment table, a glare in his eyes.

  ‘Ask her to dance,’ Devlin said to Payton. ‘Now. Make her laugh, even if you have to bribe her to do so.’

  ‘An easy task. No bribe needed,’ Payton said, just before he strode to Rachael.

  Conversation flickered between them. Payton appeared wounded, made a prayer clasp and then...victory, just as the people gathered for the first set started moving.

  Watching them dance, Devlin wondered if Rachael might transfer her affections to his cousin and he hoped her wiser than that.

  Payton’s awareness of Rachael was merely a man’s responsiveness to an appealing woman. Much like an insect might be called to a pretty flower.

  Devlin detached himself from the
surroundings. As Payton charmed Rachael, he wondered if he did the same. That if, in the initial aftermath of the accident, he’d committed himself to seeing that she was safe and it had merely carried on. It was definitely not a hardship.

  Anyone would like Rachael. She had a big heart and her beauty radiated from within.

  Then his attention latched on to Tenney and Tenney gave him the barest acknowledgement.

  Devlin wondered that Tenney didn’t quake in his boots if the man could read his mind, but then Tenney was possibly the most obtuse man on the planet. He couldn’t even appreciate what a devoted wife Rachael would make.

  Rachael promenaded between them as the dancers twirled.

  At the end, Payton guided her from the dancers and straight to Tenney. That was not part of the plan. Devlin gritted his teeth.

  Payton flashed his cousin a smile as he walked from the two and Devlin held up a fist, his crooked little finger extended. Payton laughed, raised his eyebrows and sauntered on, knowing Devlin could do nothing to him at such an event.

  Devlin reminded himself it was not of his affair, but then the weasel spoke to Rachael and Devlin couldn’t remain distant. Two long strides and he was beside them. He couldn’t understand why he disliked Tenney so much, except that his methods were abominable. One did not discard a person after six years with a letter, particularly if there wasn’t a continent between them. A short carriage ride was not a great hardship, surely.

  Devlin took an extra second to observe Rachael after he stopped in front of them. ‘Miss Albright. Mr Tenney.’ He ended his words on an upbeat note. ‘It is so fortunate to see you both.’

  Then he frowned. ‘Forgive my manners, Mr Tenney. I’m Viscount Montfort. And though it may seem we don’t know each other, I do feel that I know you as well as I ever could. Miss Albright has told me so many things about you.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were acquainted.’ The man’s eyes, which did a good impression of a reptilian blink, took in Devlin. ‘Kind of you to say.’

  Tenney could do with an adjustment to his nose. It was much too long and pointed. How dare he criticise Rachael for something so insignificant. Well, on Tenney’s face, it was significant. Blasted thing was pointed straight at Rachael.

  Rachael should thank the heavens she was not marrying Tenney. And, she didn’t even have to concern herself about doing worse.

  A silence surrounded them and, for Rachael’s sake, Devlin ended it.

  ‘And you, Miss Albright—’ Devlin paused at just the right moment, giving himself the appearance of catching a faux pas. His voice softened. ‘I only do not ask you for this next dance because I know the two of you will want to dance. Much to my chagrin.’ Those words took his strength and he was surprised his teeth didn’t shatter.

  One reel was ending and another dance would start soon.

  ‘Please. Do not let me keep you from dancing.’

  Tenney studied Rachael before he held out his arm. After a brief second, she took it.

  That would give her time to compose herself and get used to seeing that toad. Besides, two betrothed people should waltz and it would be noted if they didn’t.

  And Rachael could see how fortunate she would be not to be dancing with Tenney for the rest of her life.

  Devlin watched them together. Rachael stared at Tenney’s neckcloth. Then Devlin caught Payton’s glance and his nod towards Rachael. His cousin doffed an imaginary hat to Devlin and Devlin decided he’d best leave the party for a short while. He spoke to the guests, each greeting winding him closer to the door, and made his way outside as if he were only going to talk with someone else.

  He didn’t want to make Rachael more nervous by watching her.

  He found his carriage, discerned one of the drivers had wandered somewhere and the other’s snores rumbled as his head had almost dipped into the neck of the waistcoat he wore while he still held the ribbons.

  Bits of murmured conversations fluttered his way as some guests arrived and some left. The sounds of the horses nickering to each other. The creak as a carriage wheel turned. The drivers talking among themselves while they waited on their masters to finish the night. A bit of a ribald tale sounded, followed by guffaws.

  The story was humorous and, he supposed, by the slurring of the man’s words, ale had improved the flavour of it.

  Life went on, as routinely as it always did, sprinkling happy and sad, contentment and upheaval, and irritations and joys.

  He wondered if Tenney might be one of the people who wallowed best in a pool of misery, unable to feel alive except when surrounded by misfortune.

  Who knew? Who cared?

  He walked over to the drivers of another carriage. He didn’t even know who the vehicle belonged to. ‘Like a cigar?’ he asked.

  One nodded and stepped to the ground. The other declined.

  Devlin reached into an inside pocket of his frock coat, pulled out a cigar and gave it to the man. The man used the lantern hanging from the carriage to light it.

  ‘Do you ever get tired of waiting for the night to end?’ he asked the man.

  The driver took a puff of the cigar. ‘Not unless it’s freezing cold. We have a few hours to take it easy. To peruse the stars. Jasper can fall asleep as soon as the carriage stops, and if he starts snoring, I wake him up out of pity for the horses. They can’t rest with all the noise.’

  Devlin didn’t speak.

  ‘Kinda nice to get a glance of the women’s fripperies. The men acting bored by it all, but doubt they really are. Me, just sitting in my comfortable boots, getting to rest my legs. Share a drink with a few friends on occasion. Always a bottle somewhere about for a long night to go easier. This is my favourite part of my employment. A chance to attend a soirée and yet not dance or dress uncomfortable.’

  The other one in the seat added his opinion. ‘I like Mr Albright’s soirées.’

  The cigar ash flickered off as the man’s head darted to his friend. Devlin expected if the light were better, he would have seen the man smoking give his friend a stern stare.

  ‘Why?’ Devlin asked.

  Silence.

  ‘Why?’ Devlin wondered again.

  ‘It’s the family,’ the one with the cigar admitted, the lighted end waving. ‘Mrs Albright remembers us. Near the end of the night, the housekeeper sends a maid out with a bite to eat. Only time I ever had tarts with fripperies on it was at a party she’d had. Those little sprinkles of sweetness were almost too sweet, but they were good.’

  ‘You hope never to leave early from here.’ The one in the box spoke. ‘And sometimes, a maid brings out a bottle of wine or two. She said the mistress of the house is pleased for her to do it. Makes the night pass more speedily.’

  ‘Then there was the juggler,’ the one with the cigar added. ‘I didn’t know a man could toss such things about. A few of the maids brought out torches and we stood about and watched. A sight it was.’

  ‘A juggler?’ He’d never dreamed of the night’s entertainment going out to give a performance for the staff.

  ‘Mr Albright can have a temper if things don’t go as he wishes, but he’s got a good heart,’ the other man said. ‘His temper is like a blustery storm that leaves calm. His staff say it’s a grand house to work in.’

  ‘Just like my staff say?’ Devlin asked. Devlin doubted his staff had ever stepped outside and said a word to the carriage drivers, but one never knew.

  ‘Absolutely. Of course.’ Both servants spoke in tandem.

  ‘Best house ever,’ the one with the cigar added.

  Devlin hid his humour, assured the men had no idea who he was or which house was his, but it didn’t matter. The man speaking was a rake in his own way, Devlin supposed.

  ‘What do the staff say of the life behind closed doors here?’

  ‘Not a thing,’ the one with the cigar answered. ‘What go
es on inside a house is sacred to all.’

  ‘I would well respect and appreciate that,’ Devlin said, valuing a good fabrication when he heard it. He would wager the servants shared many tales, but tact was required in employment.

  He waited. ‘I wondered, if in this household, it is all a façade?’

  ‘Don’t think so,’ the man from the box said. ‘Least ways, don’t think it could be.’

  ‘It’s safe to say...’ The driver took a puff of the cigar and let the smoke drift into the night. ‘I would think it is safe to say, from just casual observation, that Mr and Mrs Albright are on the inside exactly as they are on the outside. They likely never get snappish with their carriage driver.’

  The other one chuckled. ‘Except if a horse near steps on Mr Albright’s boot and then knocks him down. I expect a servant who let that happen might need a set down.’ Both men shared a glance and a chuckle.

  ‘So, it exists. True happiness in marriage.’

  The end of the cigar brightened and nodded along with the speaker’s words. ‘But only in sparse quantities, if the tales of the other houses are to be believed. It is as if a happy bolt of lightning struck Mr and Mrs Albright and their servants reap the rewards. Sad Mr Albright might not be having many more events like this. It’s said he’s been a bit slow in payin’ some of the merchants.’

  ‘Did the contentment bolt strike any other household in London?’ Devlin asked after considering what the man said.

  The man with the cigar laughed. ‘Many of them have good lives—happy lives—but a bigger amount are more sad than happy even with all the fripperies they can purchase. Some of them must get enjoyment out of being cross.’

  The man then scratched his chest. ‘Hard to tell who has it the best, us on the outside or them on the inside. That lightning bolt don’t know the difference between a man with a heavy purse and a man with no purse who has food. Just seems to strike and miss at random.’

  Devlin gave a light tap to the man’s arm. ‘Well, I’d best return to this event.’

  ‘And who be you?’ the smoker asked.