A Cinderella for the Viscount

by Liz Tyner

  She’d thought him getting a pet might bring them closer, as he learned to care for it and she shared his joy in the new closeness he’d discover, but now she saw that it demonstrated the truth of a relationship to him. What she saw as commitment, he saw as a need for additional staff.

  A wife would be an extra person in the house, mostly cared for by the servants. A family member needed to supply needed family members. Again, mostly cared for by the servants.

  She couldn’t step into such a role.

  ‘Are you thinking of obtaining a wife in a similar fashion?’ she asked, her jaw tight. ‘Perhaps one a little older than all the rest and whom your servants will care for?’

  ‘No. I like Scamp.’ He cared for Scamp even though he was drooling on his hand. That ought to prove something.

  ‘Maybe she will expect more than to be liked. I would. And she might expect to love you. I would expect to do that with my husband. And if I did, I would not want it to distance us.’

  ‘I’m sure it would not.’

  ‘Are you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I was in love with Meg once, or so I thought,’ he said. ‘Truly.’

  ‘Are you still in love with her?’

  ‘No. My first romance and the one I would never repeat. I planned to marry her with all a young man’s fervour. I rarely even kissed her. She was too precious. I expected to surprise her on her birthday with a proposal. But the day before that, I received a note. Oddly, within days of the Duke’s wife dying, Meg found she didn’t love me. She hoped I understood.’ He raised a brow. ‘I did. Eventually.’

  ‘Are you sure you don’t still have feelings for her?’

  ‘Within a year, I knew I’d been in love with love. Not her. I found out she was fascinated with the peerage. When the Duke’s wife had died suddenly, within a few days, she offered him her condolences but had to wait until his mourning was over to make it permanent. When I discovered that, I was thankful my father was an earl.’

  ‘But she seems so happy and perfect.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s happy and she’s perfect for the Duke.’

  Scamp growled. Devlin agreed. ‘Well, I’d best be getting Scamp home, I don’t think he can handle much more excitement today.’

  ‘Will you be returning later tonight?’ She heard the longing in her voice and cursed herself for it. She planned to spend the evening studying ledgers, but she would be home before dark.

  His eyes took her in. ‘Would you like that?’

  ‘Of course.’ She stepped closer to him. The dog growled again, forgetting he didn’t have teeth.

  ‘Quiet, Scamp,’ he commanded and, with one additional yap of displeasure, the dog obeyed.

  Devlin put Scamp on the floor and closed the distance between Rachael and himself, removing her from the dog’s line of vision.

  He lowered his voice, smiled and tried the charm that had worked so many times to get him what he wanted. ‘But not if you’re certain that you don’t wish to wed. I think I’m going to wait until I get a ring on my finger.’ He held his head high.

  He already had a ring on his finger.

  Scamp barked.

  ‘You dog,’ she said.

  He blinked. ‘Were you talking to me?’ He lifted Scamp. ‘I hope you were because my pet doesn’t like to be called names.’

  She didn’t answer.

  He turned sideways, holding Scamp’s head so he wouldn’t nip at her, and dropped a kiss on her lips before leaving. ‘I’m sure you were.’

  * * *

  The simple kiss ignited desire within her, but in moments he was gone.

  The emptiness that followed, plunging deep, shocked her.

  Suddenly, she felt more abandoned and smaller and less strong than she could remember ever being before.

  She wanted to accept Devlin’s proposal. She did. But she couldn’t. What if she did and later he changed towards her as Tenney had done? Her feelings were so much stronger for Devlin in just a few days and seemed stronger every time she saw him.

  Instantly, she ignored those feelings, reminding herself that he was walking out of her life.

  Devlin might have given her the courage, but it was she who’d scrambled forward, grabbing purchase where she could.

  She headed for the stairs.

  ‘I apologise,’ she called after them.

  Devlin stopped and turned, the ever-present smile in his eyes.

  ‘Then perhaps I will call on you again before too long.’

  ‘Perhaps. Perhaps tonight if you wish.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Scamp growled.

  Apparently, he’d not accepted her apology as easily as Devlin had.

  ‘I’ll see you then,’ Devlin said. ‘Scamp is hoping you don’t wait until the last minute to decide.’

  Then he stopped moving.

  ‘I want you to think about whether you like me because of who I am, or because I can make people happy so easily. I know you don’t want to change your path and I understand that. But I don’t want us to marry if you don’t wish to try to make me happy. I’ve spent my life putting smiles on other peoples’ faces and smoothing things over for them. I don’t want to wed unless it is someone who considers me worthy of the same treatment.’

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Rachael felt as if someone had raked a cold, sharp diamond over her skin. She raised her eyes from the bracelet she’d just tried on and listened, returning the other jewels they’d received that day to the bag.

  Her name. She heard her name spoken from beyond the door. Her first name. And it was Tenney’s voice. He’d always called her Miss Albright. Never Rachael. His voice rose.

  Ambrose was just beyond the curtain. She could smell his soap.

  She stood, still clasping the bag, and walked to the door, pulling it open. The curtain fluttered against her as she forced her way through it and into the now-tainted air.

  Rachael appraised him objectively before he discerned she’d entered the room. Overall, he had a genteel handsomeness. A dimple in one cheek when he smiled might have been the key to that. But he was bland. Exceptionally blank, as if he had toiled at it and it had been more fruitful than usual.

  In fact, she could not understand how she’d ever found him fascinating.

  ‘I know she’s here,’ Tenney said, his voice slithering into the air.

  ‘I can’t say, sir,’ Grimsley said. ‘If you’ll give me the candlestick, I’ll return it to the shelf and you can leave.’

  ‘Not until after—’

  Grimsley’s eyes had flickered to her and his arm rose in a halting motion, waving her not to step forward.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she asked, her voice stumbling. ‘Mr Tenney?’ This didn’t seem like the same man she’d sat for hours and hours with.

  He whirled around and Grimsley used the distraction to retrieve the candlestick from Tenney’s grasp.

  Still clutching the bag in one hand, she reached her other hand out to Tenney in greeting.

  Tenney started as if he felt the same brush of cold diamond that had chilled her. Then he grasped her hand, the wintery contact jarring her. She’d not expected any reaction to him.

  He brought her fingers near his lips and kissed the air before releasing her.

  She let her hand fall, absently brushing the folds of her skirt, wanting to free herself of the feel of him.

  They had touched so little when they had been betrothed and she now understood why. It meant nothing to either of them.

  ‘Rachael. So good that we meet again.’ He sniffed. ‘I’d heard rumours that you’d been seen here and I thought you might be in your father’s little diversions...with the help.’

  ‘Mr Grimsley is my father’s man of affairs and extremely experienced.’

  ‘So.’ He shot a quick glance at
Grimsley. ‘He is responsible for your father’s losses.’

  ‘No. The shops are doing well and it isn’t any of your concern.’

  ‘I’m sure. You always had a good eye for beauty,’ Tenney said. ‘When we went on those carriage rides and visited Somerset House, the curator thought you a natural at selecting the best pieces.’

  ‘He was kind,’ she said. ‘It was no chore to admire the paintings.’ She indicated the wares around her. ‘And when I am here, I feel I’m in an art display that my own family has collected.’

  She took off the bracelet and handed it to Grimsley. ‘I think this will suit me. Can you ask Abernathy to design a matching necklace?’

  ‘Let me see it,’ Tenney said.

  She did as he requested, making sure their hands didn’t touch a second time.

  ‘It is stunning.’ He took the bauble and held it to the light, examining it, one eye squinted. ‘I like it.’

  ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like a different one?’ she asked.

  ‘No. This one is perfect for her.’ He handed it to the shopkeeper with a flourish. ‘Wrap it up for me.’

  ‘It is a perfect gem,’ she agreed. ‘But we have a large selection.’ A large selection that hadn’t been on her arm first. ‘Today we received three from one of my best suppliers, Mr Abernathy.’

  She opened the bag and took out one with a small pearl which was half circled by three diamonds and let him examine it. Then next was a sapphire sparkling against its gold filigree band. She also took out one with rubies set in the silver circle—the stones reminded her of blazing coals.

  He studied the bracelet, frowning.

  She didn’t want Tenney’s new beloved to be wearing a piece she’d worn first. It didn’t bother her except she wouldn’t have wanted to be given a jewel such as that.

  Tenney smiled, returning the bracelets. ‘I like the other best. The first one. It’s not as fine as my betrothal ring you returned, but...’

  ‘Your family heirloom gave me an idea for some new additions to our selections.’

  His brows flicked up in acknowledgement.

  She returned the bag to Grimsley. He gave her the tiniest shrug, put the bag aside, then reached in his pocket and took out a cloth to wipe the candlestick before putting it on the shelf.

  Her feelings truly weren’t there for Tenney and she would thank him for the rest of her life for writing the letter that ended their friendship.

  She was a better person for it and it hadn’t even left a scar.

  And the scars she did have were only on the surface and a surface that was mostly out of the way and, for the time being, she was thankful for it. The path to her new life had begun that night.

  ‘Since the pastime is doing so well, I’m sure you won’t mind gifting me the bracelet,’ Tenney interrupted her thoughts.

  His eyes told her she had heard correctly. ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘You know, Rachael, I have a lot of friends in society. It will not do well to have questions stirred about your past. About your life. About your future. The comments about you breaking our betrothal are just now fading.’

  ‘Truly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘No. That’s not what I meant when I said truly. Truly, you are going to sink so low?’ She blinked and he was still there and still had the same reptilian stare.

  That stare worked on her like a snake strike and she reacted instinctively, but she didn’t dodge. Instead, she planted her feet. ‘Do your worst. But it will not be unnoticed. Because of you, I’ve become acquainted with the editor of the newspaper. He recently printed that I was a sparkling gem at Countess of Merriweather’s ball. And I’m soon to be attending an event where I will see the Duchess of Highwood. We have recently shared a quiet conversation. I’m sure she would not mind sparing more time to chat with me. And she isn’t known for verbal discretion.’

  She paused, lowering her voice to a purr. ‘I would step softly, Ambrose. The people I have tea with are the people you might like to work for. And if you tell lies about me, I will tell truths about you.’

  He waved an arm, stepping back. ‘You can keep the rubbish. There are better merchants in town.’

  He stalked out, the bell above the door clattering as he left.

  Grimsley walked to her, the candlestick back in his hand, staring after Tenney. ‘Say the word, Miss Rachael, and I will go after him and give him a knock on the head.’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to inflict that on the merchandise.’

  Grimsley spoke under his breath.

  ‘I believe I will order that ring we discussed when I arrived,’ she told Grimsley.

  ‘The one for poison powders?’ Grimsley watched where Ambrose Tenney walked beyond the window. ‘I can have it filled for you.’

  ‘No. It’s not for him. The gimmel one.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  He directed his carriage to halt one house further from Rachael’s. The moonlight was bright and he didn’t want to take more chances.

  He’d been tempted to stop the vehicle closer to Rachael’s home and have a shorter distance to walk, arriving quicker, but instead, he asked the carriage driver to find the darkest shadows and wait there.

  It was odd how doing something secretively and not getting noticed could increase a person’s belief that they could never get caught.

  And if they were seen together, and Rachael’s reputation was hurt, it would be a loss for everyone. He would never know if she felt forced into a marriage to save her reputation and the shops. Or, if rumour got out that they were together and the business suffered, he would blame himself for her financial disaster.

  As he approached the house, fabric fluttered in place at an upper-storey window. He supposed he would be waiting for Rachael to join him. Instead, the front door opened, Rachael ran out and a male voice told her to take care.

  She ran to him and he lingered, drinking in the vision of seeing a sprite in the moonlight. Relief overflowed inside him that they would be together again.

  He clasped her, giving a swirl and spinning her around before he allowed himself the joy of bringing her into his arms and holding her along the length of him, for one brief sweet, torturous moment before letting her go.

  ‘Who spoke to you as you were leaving?’ he asked, putting an arm around her to bring her close and make it less likely she would be recognised while he hurried her away.

  ‘The butler.’

  ‘The face at the upper storey?’ Her feet pattered along beside him and he slowed his steps to make it easier for her to keep pace.

  ‘Oh, that was likely my mother,’ she said. ‘They are all concerned for me.’

  ‘They all know you are meeting me?’ He slowed again in an attempt to discern her face.

  ‘All except...well, my father may know as well, but be keeping it a secret from me. My mother said she must trust that I know what I am doing.’

  He marvelled at the cocoon of closeness she had around her and pulled her near for a brief hug, reassuring himself that she was, for a moment, with him.

  The carriage rolled towards them. When it stopped, he reached to open the door and, with both hands at her waist, lifted her in a swirl of skirts. He kept his elbow out to protect her from the door. ‘Lower your head,’ he said and she disappeared inside the doorway.

  With one boot on the metal step, he pulled himself into the vehicle, turned back and captured the door, closing them in.

  He stopped, just to breathe in the flowery, womanly scent that was Rachael and feel the contentment of knowing they would have a few hours together.

  He put fingertips to her cheek and let them dance along her jawline, her contours resonating in his body.

  Their kiss was liquid emotion, tasting of things innocent and sweet, yet pulsing with desire.

  * * *

  R
achael moved up the stairs with Devlin, pleased that it wasn’t a moonlit night, but in his room, Devlin stilled before adjusting the lamp. ‘Out, or, as I would prefer, left on?’

  She couldn’t answer.

  ‘I want you to feel comfortable. But I also want you to be proud of your beauty.’

  ‘On.’

  What if Devlin flinched at her scar?

  He moved back to her and rotated her body, undoing the hooks of her gown and slipping the cloth upwards. The silk slid over her shoulders, but the sensation didn’t calm her.

  ‘You have nothing to fear,’ he said. ‘Nothing.’

  He slid the fabric free, then untied her corset and dropped it, holding out his hand so that she could keep her balance as she stepped from it.

  The chemise that had been pressed against her body fell loosely as she moved and he drew her against his chest, the thin layer of her chemise doing nothing to diffuse the feelings he stirred.

  His arms encased her, surrounding her with the feeling of the most security she’d ever known in her life. She felt fragile and yet unbreakable.

  His moist lips against her skin erased every pain she’d ever felt and she turned, capturing him in a kiss.

  Next, he stepped aside enough to remove his trousers. With a delicate touch, he slid the chemise over her head.

  His hardness pressed against her stomach, and he slid his hands down her back, stopping to grasp her waist and pull her closer.

  Summoning her courage, she took his hand from her waist and guided it over the scar, holding it firm, making sure he didn’t press too hard.

  She needn’t have concerned herself.

  His fingers trailed softly over the uneven skin and he traced the marred area, sending shivers into her that touched her core. ‘If it were not for the discomfort to you, not worth a fuss. You’re made even more unique. They show you are a survivor.’

  ‘That is kind of you to say.’

  His lips rested in the crook of her neck, the honesty of his words reverberating inside her. ‘I’m not being kind at all. Just truthful.’

  Then he stepped back, guiding her with him, and lowered himself on to the bed, keeping her above him.