A Cinderella for the Viscount

by Liz Tyner

  Devlin paused. ‘One that was struck by a confused bolt of lightning, I’d say.’

  The man chuckled. ‘Was nice tongue-wagging with you.’

  Devlin had to return to the house, pleased he’d stepped outside.

  Mrs Albright likely knew exactly how the staff enjoyed the night. Devlin didn’t know whether to be disappointed or impressed that the Albrights’ exterior ran deeper than the surface, or sad that he wasn’t sure how deep his own interior ran.

  He had no gift for numbers like his father and Payton had. No deep love of politics. No true affection for gambling. The only skill he had was to jest without making people angry. He could say what everyone else was thinking, but say it in such a way as to remain friends with everyone afterwards.

  He didn’t really understand it and wouldn’t have paid attention except Payton, who had inherited the family mathematical brain, but chose to hide it, had commented on it in exasperation. Devlin had once convinced two men who were ready to go at each other’s throats that a nonsensical competition would be in order and the night had ended with laughter.

  A useful skill that Payton had grumbled about, but insisted Devlin accompany him on one particular occasion when he was short of funds. He’d claimed that with Devlin’s charm and his mathematical abilities, they could have been the best swindlers in London.

  Devlin had chastised his cousin for thinking such foolhardiness, but was curious.

  Later that night, everyone joined in the wager Devlin had started, even though it was obvious by then that Payton had a winning hand. Somehow, Devlin had convinced the players the sport wasn’t in the game, but in betting against Payton. Payton had left whistling, with his pockets full.

  If Devlin hadn’t seen it, he wouldn’t have believed it. It was as if the people had wagered without caring whether they won as long as Devlin kept the banter going.

  The music rose from inside the house, diverting Devlin’s attention.

  He hoped he had never been such a cad as Tenney was. True, he knew several women had envisioned themselves in love with him, but he had been honest when those quiet sentiments arose and the words of their love tumbled out. He’d always given a kiss and told them that it wasn’t true feelings they felt, only intensity caused by the closeness they’d had together. He’d extricated himself faster than Payton could count.

  One mistake had taught him.

  He’d not even lost their friendships over the word love. But once he heard it, he never saw the women in the same light as he had before. He trod lightly around them, and he knew they’d somehow understood it was nothing personal, it was just the way of things. It was better for all concerned for both of them to drift apart.

  Devlin stilled, wondering if those women who’d said they loved him had only listened to his words of sweetness and never saw beneath the exterior. That was a wager his cousin would take and fill his coffers.

  Rachael had listened to his declarations, but didn’t fall for them as the others did. She likely wouldn’t have wagered against Payton in the betting game.

  Tenney would have lost a lot of funds this night. He wasn’t gambling on the right deck of cards.

  Tenney had decided, for whatever reason, that Rachael was not the wife for a barrister, and he had possibly found someone who he believed might make a better wife to advance him. A daughter of someone who could promote his career. Someone other than Rachael.

  Ambition was not a bad thing.

  But a house shouldn’t be built on it.

  Rachael was so much better off—assuming she did not get attached to someone worse.

  Then he remembered Payton asking Rachael to dance and the adoration in his eyes. Payton fell deeply, passionately in love for all of a night and fell out even faster. He said love couldn’t be counted with numbers, therefore it was a figment of the imagination, but he liked to use his imagination. An imagination, he claimed, best exercised.

  Blast. He’d better get inside. He didn’t want Payton aware of Rachael when she decided to get over Tenney. She wouldn’t have improved her situation.

  Frowning, he walked into the house. Rachael might need him and he would happily throttle Tenney for her.

  Chapter Eight

  The music ebbed and flowed around them, much like Rachael felt her stomach was doing. There was not another person on the face of the earth Rachael would have wanted less to be dancing with than dear Ambrose and her burn ached from all the dancing.

  Not only that, she had suddenly taken a strong dislike to the overpowering scent that Tenney always sported.

  ‘I hope my honest letter did not upset you.’ Tenney took her hand, lifting it as the music for the waltz began.

  Well, that answered any doubt she might have had about someone else writing the letter.

  She took a deep breath before answering.

  ‘At first it did,’ Rachael admitted. ‘But then I decided that the strain of taking on a wife might be wearing on you. And you didn’t mean any of it. That you’d likely changed your mind, but it was too late to recall the words.’

  She’d told herself that to keep from hating him.

  He led her away from the other dancers. His voice was soft. ‘I meant every word. You have none of the finer qualities I seek in a wife...like some do. You’ve put me off for years now and I am ready to wed. And when I compare you to others, I immediately discern how you, a glorified merchant’s daughter, have not blossomed into your potential.’

  She had once stood outside under the eaves on a wintery day. Snow had been on the roof. Someone had slammed a door and suddenly snow had slid from the roof and coated her head in moisture. Tenney’s words covered her the same way.

  They danced on and she knew how it would have been for Wellington and Bonaparte to dance together to a funeral dirge. Only they would have respected each other so much more.

  ‘I am so sorry you feel that way,’ she said. ‘I have waited some years to marry you. It is as if we were already married in my parents’ eyes. Now you think you don’t wish to marry me. Six years we have courted. I’m irritated.’

  Irritated in that she would have liked to have put him under the snowdrift on an eave and slammed a door. With him lying in the snow, face up. And with icicles on the roof, melting.

  He gave a one-shouldered shrug within the dance and her words rolled off him much easier than the snow had melted on her face.

  ‘You could not have informed me of this earlier instead of telling me you were waiting until you could afford a wife and family?’

  ‘Husbands who don’t wish to be married can be rough on their wives.’ He gave a long slow blink, much as a duellist might cock the hammer on a gun. ‘It is in your best interest to call the wedding off.’

  She suddenly remembered his joy when he’d told her of his uncle settling a plump sum on him so he could purchase a house for them. The money had arrived for Tenney, but he had yet to find the perfect house that would suit them.

  ‘Will you return the funds to your uncle?’

  He batted the question into nonsense with a blink. ‘It is too late. I’ve purchased a house. But you will not be living in it. I do not intend to share one window with you. It is not in your best interest to pursue a marriage with me. Unless you are a bigger imbecile than I think.’

  He had a way with his statements just as Devlin did, but in his case, he made people’s stomachs roil without effort.

  Music wafted around them so peacefully, everything seemed as normal as it should and she imagined a few more, bigger, icicles on a roof.

  He’d just given her one more reason for needing her to call off the wedding. His uncle would likely understand Ambrose keeping the house if she didn’t wish to wed him, feeling empathy for his nephew.

  She searched her mind for the proper set down for him, but none in her vocabulary suited.

  ‘In truth,
I will not take one penny from you, Mr Tenney—Ambrose. I am my father’s heir and he will ensure that I am provided for. I just cannot tell my family at this time as they will be inquisitive. I must have time to absorb the news. It would not do to burst into tears at a question.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Tenney said. ‘It is a feeble excuse in that you wish to grapple with me and try to get a settlement price from me.’

  ‘No. I will take nothing from you.’

  ‘That will change,’ Tenney said. ‘Your father’s jewellery business is going bankrupt. The shops are, at best, wavering. It is only a matter of time before the creditors take them. You misled me about your station in life. You plainly deceived me.’

  ‘I did no such thing.’ Rachael stopped moving, but he gave her a tug and pulled her along with him.

  Rachael used all her strength to keep moving and could spare none to speak. Surely Tenney lied about her father. Her father had mentioned economising on occasion, but never with a sense of urgency. Then she recalled the memory of her father’s tightened lips when her mother spoke of a dowry.

  She caught a sparkle of smug assurance in Tenney’s eyes as he studied her expression.

  The music ended, and Tenney led her from the floor without another word.

  ‘If you wish for the marriage to be called off, Mr Tenney, I will do so.’ Her words were soft so that no one else could hear, but she could not keep the frost from them, and she had no ability to smile as Devlin did. ‘Sooner. Not later. You merely had to request what you wished for. Tonight is not the night. My entire family is here and I cannot bear to have them all question or commiserate. The night my mother worked so hard for will be ruined. Even a countess is here and that is a first for Mother. This is an important night for her. I cannot spoil it.’

  ‘That is your problem. I cannot take on a wife with no prospects and I refuse to let this betrothal continue. You will only use the length of it to punish me in a legal action. One second more is too long for this to continue. You will end it. And tonight.’

  ‘No. I will not. If you continue the charade tonight, I will send you a letter that plainly states I am calling the wedding off.’

  ‘It is in your best interest.’

  ‘Miss Albright.’ A voice rumbled behind her, caressing in its tone. She turned, almost falling into Devlin.

  ‘May I have the next dance?’ He put out a hand to stop her from tumbling against him. ‘And might I say, you have the loveliest nose I have ever seen.’ He held out his arm.

  Tenney gasped and she saw him reach for her, but she stepped aside.

  She spoke to Devlin. ‘And might I say, you have the best manners I have ever seen.’

  ‘You deserve the best, Miss Albright.’

  She let him lead her to the furthermost area from Tenney. ‘I fear I haven’t had that in the past.’

  Devlin didn’t speak. His jawline appeared to be made of granite and his eyes even harder.

  ‘But can we please not dance? I would prefer to stand still.’

  ‘I hope he chokes on his own stench. He has doused himself in some shaving soap that only vermin could survive, which explains how he is still upright.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘None of it does now. It’s over.’

  ‘What a waste of an education. What a waste of a human. What a waste of a nose.’

  ‘I’m not going to miss him as much as I conceived.’ She shuddered. ‘You were right. I will not miss him at all.’ She put a palm to her forehead. ‘I will only question my judgement.’

  ‘He is nothing more than a shrivelled stinkhorn mushroom.’

  ‘He is much worse than any toadstool.’

  Devlin paused. ‘I agree.’

  ‘Tenney and I have been acquainted a long time and it can’t have been easy for him. I will say a kind word for him in my prayers if I can think of any. Perhaps that he live a long and wintery life with many icicles to keep him warm, although no mushrooms survive the cold.’

  ‘The stinkhorn does.’

  Rachael stared at Devlin. She didn’t think she’d ever seen a toadstool in the wintertime, but then, she didn’t go out looking for them and she’d never heard of a stinkhorn mushroom before, but the name fit. He always wore an overabundant amount of scent.

  ‘I assure you, Rachael. You are better off without him.’

  ‘You’re right.’ She turned to him. ‘I feel lighter. This has weighed on me the past few days.’

  She considered what she would tell her parents the next morning and ask her mother to share it with a few close friends who weren’t known for discretion.

  ‘He’s a fungus,’ Devlin muttered.

  She brightened. ‘Thank you for understanding that it has been difficult for me. I feel so much better that you have been here tonight to bolster me up.’

  Devlin stopped, repeating her words. ‘Bolster you up?’

  ‘Yes. You always know what to say to make me feel better about the end of the betrothal. Tomorrow I will tell Mother that tonight Mr Tenney and I both agreed we have grown apart. I cannot say we are still friends. I can’t. But it must get about that I am no longer betrothed and that it was a decision on my part. He fears I’ll attempt a breach of promise and I won’t do that. He’s also concerned his uncle will want the funds replaced for a house that Ambrose purchased.’

  She suspected the dwelling had a lot to do with Ambrose’s timing. With the residence, he would be better positioned to approach unmarried women.

  ‘I’m surprised that he didn’t trust me enough to have a conversation with me. I would never subject him to a breach of promise suit. An ice storm, perhaps.’

  ‘That is solicitous of you,’ he said as the next dance began and they stood near the musicians, but where they could watch everyone. ‘I would be happy to bestow an ice storm upon him if I had the power. But really, does ice bother mushrooms or are they already trampled underfoot by women with discerning and beautifully shaped noses?’

  ‘Perhaps only one nose per woman?’ she asked, imagining a woman with three noses stomping a low-growing Tenney-faced weed into the ground. She laughed.

  Tenney must have recognised the laugh because his face darted in her direction, before he gave a glare and left.

  ‘You are making this much easier,’ she said to Devlin.

  ‘At your service. Any time you need to rid yourself of a defective sweetheart, find me.’

  ‘Hopefully, never again. Never.’

  The music commenced for another dance.

  ‘Tomorrow I will tell my parents,’ she said. ‘Then Mother will tell my aunts and cousins. It will be easy to explain to her that after I saw him tonight, I felt no affection.’

  The world had not ended. She would be a spinster, but she would develop a pastime. Something that made the world better, or at least, made her feel better.

  She remembered Tenney’s comment that her father’s business was in financial distress. She hoped it was another of his imaginations. Surely it was. But if he believed her impoverished and no longer wished to marry her because of her lack of funds...

  Devlin watched her, concern in his face, and that erased the feeling of being spurned.

  ‘You have befriended me at the time I needed it most,’ she said. ‘Your cousin reports you are an exemplary friend who could soothe over a windstorm and turn it into dust. It’s true.’

  Devlin didn’t answer.

  She compared his jaw to Tenney’s, which always seemed smooth and soft. Devlin had been dishevelled in the library, nearly sporting a beard, but on him, it only made him more endearing.

  She noticed the crisp starch of freshly laundered clothing, a hint of another soft soap that he’d perhaps used on his hair and a gentle leather scent. The delicate fragrance around him only contrasted against his strength.

  ‘I believe I would like to do
something risqué,’ she said.

  His brows lifted and her chin went up.

  ‘Yes.’ She felt daring and imagined she could combine her maturity and the spinster. ‘I believe I will have another glass of punch.’

  ‘Dare you be so foolhardy?’ he asked.

  ‘You’ve not tasted the punch. It’s more potent than the wine.’

  ‘I would be honoured to dance with you, Rachael, and help you show your daring side to the world. Are you sure you would not consider it now that Tenney has left? A waltz?’

  ‘Perhaps something more respectable?’

  Humour flashed across his face.

  ‘It is just because Mother informed the musicians they must keep the waltzes to a minimum and they will not play another one.’

  ‘Then we will take our chances with whatever music they play.’

  Ending the night by dancing with Devlin helped her consider herself precious instead of rejected. His ire somehow made her feel protected, more feminine and without the many defects Tenney had listed.

  She caught her reflection in a mirror and examined her nose. Nothing was wrong with it. Tenney was a liar.

  Devlin must have been watching her. ‘It has not grown this evening. I promise I will let you know if it swells or takes flight. And if you should have three, I will kiss the tip of each one.’

  Her eyes brightened. ‘I would let you.’

  Devlin’s lips turned up with soft laughter and his head dipped just a touch in acknowledgement of the private bond between them and it was as if they had kissed.

  For such a disastrous night, she was surprised at how much better she felt.

  But then she noticed Tenney had returned and was watching them. He huffed and stalked out of the door. In that instant, she remembered how vengeful he could be.

  Chapter Nine

  With fashion plates spread before her and her mother standing at her shoulder, the time would never be better. She filled her lungs and the words burst out of her. ‘Mr Tenney and I will not wed.’

  Her mother’s rings flashed as she clasped her hands. ‘Oh.’