A Cinderella for the Viscount

by Liz Tyner

  ‘Blast.’ Her father gave a slap to his forehead and gaped at his wife. ‘You always said she would not listen if you told her what to do, but if you asked, she would break her fingers in helping.’

  ‘Just like her father.’

  Both parents’ heads nodded in unison.

  ‘Can I borrow the carriage?’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ her father said. ‘I’ve never had much say in your life. But I do have control over the carriage driver’s employment and you would not be able to get a hackney tonight. It would not hurt you to spend a night thinking about your strength and how you have made decisions these past years.’

  ‘Do you think Devlin suggested marriage because he sees you as less than you are?’ her mother asked. ‘Or because he wants a strong woman at his side?’

  Her mother patted Rachael’s knee. ‘And even if he cannot put it into words, that’s what he wants. That is what he tried to create in you when he encouraged you to go to the dances and become a part of his world. Our actions are truer than our words.’

  Thunder rolled in the distance, muted by the walls of the carriage and the sounds of the horses’ hooves.

  ‘Wait until later in the morning to take the carriage,’ her father said, ‘since you are not dashing off to meet a future husband. I’ve already arranged for Grimsley to be collected and give me the fortnight’s accounting of the shop. I want to review the plans the two of you have had. And I want to make sure there are no canes with swords in them ordered. I cannot believe you ordered so many of those headache powder rings. It takes courage to order such things.’

  ‘Does it really?’ her mother asked, her words for him, but her face towards Rachael. ‘I would think there was little courage involved. In business, not all ventures succeed. Not all marriages. Even though Devlin’s parents aren’t a perfect couple, each has been rewarded from it. Vows are symbolic and the foundation of a marriage. They are glue, not sweetened fluff.’

  ‘I know full well it is not a meringue.’

  ‘Don’t expect perfection. Marriage is a skill some people have—like business talents.’

  ‘That is not romantic.’

  ‘Perhaps not. Your father’s and my marriage is a habit of courtesy and love that we fell into and with honesty and strength almost any two caring people can do it. Unfortunately, you won’t know if the strength is there beforehand. No one does. Just like profits in a shop.’

  Her mother put her hand to her chin. ‘I would say it is a lot like starting a business with a partner and you can only prepare as much as possible beforehand and hope that you know what you’re doing.’

  ‘You make it sound like too much of a risk for a sensible person.’

  ‘Everything worth having is a risk.’ Her mother patted Rachael’s knee again. ‘Even children. When the Countess and I met again after not seeing each other for all those years, I told her how long you’d been betrothed and that Tenney couldn’t seem to pick one day out of three hundred and sixty-five. And she told me she had three sons, none of whom seemed to be aware that all the young women she’d been inviting to events might be more than just dance partners.’

  ‘You were both matchmaking?’ Rachael asked, surprised.

  ‘Attempting. We left the actual decision up to the two of you. But, never doubt that it gets your ire up if someone tells you what to do. I’ve asked you to do things your whole life and so has your father. Other people are not so well trained as we are.’

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  That morning, Grimsley came to give her father the accounts for the business and her maid summoned her. Rachael was pacing the floor. She’d been ready to leave shortly after she’d woken and she’d woken early.

  ‘Your father asked if you might attend the meeting with Mr Grimsley.’ The maid rushed in, her cheeriness flooding the room.

  Rachael straightened her skirt. She might have trained her parents well, but they had done the same with her, no matter what her mother said. She walked downstairs and listened to the men talk and she gave her opinions forthrightly.

  * * *

  After the meeting had concluded, Rachael rode with Grimsley and her mother as he was returned to the shop.

  Instead of going to Devlin immediately, she went inside to inspect Grimsley’s latest acquisitions as she’d agreed earlier that morning when speaking with her father.

  ‘We’ve another arrival from Mr Abernathy.’

  ‘I must see it,’ she said. Abernathy was her favourite craftsman. Metal was his canvas and the jewels were his oils.

  ‘Six rings this time,’ Grimsley said. ‘He purchased the rubies at a small price and is happy that you said we would buy all he can provide if he passes the bargain on to us, and that he can make them as he pleases. And he was able to make a gimmel ring for you as you asked. With tiny rubies.’

  He secured the bag, held it out and she picked out the treasures one by one until she saw the rubies. She pulled it into the light. She didn’t know for sure what she would do with it when she requested it, but now she was certain.

  ‘I believe I will keep this one.’

  Grimsley’s grin sparkled many times bigger than the small swirl of rubies. ‘Excellent choice.’

  She clasped the bands so that they pressed against her skin.

  ‘Do you think we can do it? Make the shop a success?’ she asked.

  ‘For the first time in five years, I am anticipating the future. Mr Abernathy and I talked at length when he dropped off the jewels. We both have a new enthusiasm for our work. And he will ascertain that Miss Rachael gets his best designs.’

  They both gave a nod before she walked into the dreary day, but the air had a crispness that pleased her more than if the sun had shone brightly.

  She hurried to the carriage, her mother beside her.

  Inside, she picked at the lace on the sleeve on her oldest, most favourite dress.

  ‘Have a maid stitch that in place for you,’ her mother said.

  ‘This one is always being mended.’

  ‘Perhaps you should get a new one.’

  ‘I don’t mind. This suits me.’

  Rachael straightened the skirt, examining the faded flowers on the fabric. This was not the glorious gown she might wear to a soirée, cloaked in jewels from the shop.

  This was the dress for home. For bookwork. Not the dancing dress—the one with the poufs of cloth and the best cloak.

  She could be comfortable in both. Wearing the jewellery did not change who she was. Nor did she wear it to elevate herself. It was beauty and, as Devlin had pointed out about songbirds singing as they should, the same was true for everything. No one would ask flowers to please stop blooming as their petals were much too graceful for a sad day.

  She could wear the flowing strands of armour, the baubles on her wrist as gauntlets and the rings as shields while she danced into the night and she could put everything neatly on the shelf when she returned home.

  It wasn’t about how she appeared to others, it was about who she was when she thought of herself and it was no disservice to imagine herself as a strong person, particularly as she had been so afraid at the first soirées.

  No one had been her friend and she’d often been seen as an outsider, but it didn’t matter. It only mattered how she saw herself and that she continually took steps to increase her internal promise of retaining the vision of who she wanted to be.

  Mr Grimsley had told her that it was impossible to gauge what would sell and what wouldn’t. Originally, he’d not felt it right to risk the success without her father’s agreement. One had to take chances and her father had become unwilling to take those leaps of faith. As his failures had dwindled, so had his successes.

  Devlin was worth the risk of failure and the risk of success.

  She thought of the last few days.

  He was more important to her t
han the jewellery shop. He made her heart glow as bright as rubies. As sparkling as a betrothal ring shared by lovers.

  She didn’t want to live without him and she didn’t want to live apart from him if she had a choice in the matter.

  * * *

  Immediately upon opening the door, the butler’s eyes darted around, searching for a chaperon, then her mother stepped into view behind her.

  ‘We’re here to speak with the Countess.’

  ‘I will see if she is in.’

  With the briefest amount of time, the butler returned and led her to the Countess’s sitting room.

  * * *

  After tea, Devlin appeared in the hallway, but didn’t move to join them. Giving a quick greeting, bow included, he waited, perfection on view, filling the doorway, the light from the window seeming to reflect from his smile and showcase the trim length of his legs.

  He’d been created for light, laughter and her eyes.

  ‘I hate to disappoint you, but she arrived to visit me,’ the Countess said, rising. ‘Her mother wished me to have a handkerchief she’d embroidered.’

  ‘Perhaps Rachael would like to take a stroll in the garden,’ he suggested.

  The Countess stopped in front of her son. ‘I suspect she might.’ She brushed him aside. ‘Now I want to show Mrs Albright some of my stitchery and it is a shame I didn’t bring a needle with me as you would move from the doorway much more quickly if I had.’ She made a jabbing motion with her hand and he took one step aside.

  It surprised Rachael to see the Countess jesting with her son and his mother gave him a sideways hug when she walked by him.

  He took one step inside, waiting until their mothers left. ‘My butler informed me you were here. I hope you came to see me.’

  ‘Yes.’ She rose and stood in front of him. The ruby ring still rested on her thumb. She took it off. ‘I saw this and wanted to give it to you as a thank-you token for saving my life. Well, I wanted to give half of it to you.’

  He took the ring and, with a deft movement, separated it. The two circles interlaced to make one and slipped apart to make two.

  ‘When I went to the parties and you weren’t there, they were devoid of music. You add to the simplest moments. The moments of quiet talking. The moments of dancing. All of them are better with you in them.’

  ‘You need to know that I’m proud of the steps that you’ve made.’

  ‘Father told me the shop has improved and he feels hopeful for the first time in years. I don’t want to put it aside. I appreciate your offer of letting your man of affairs help me and I will ask for advice, but I want to continue my family’s heritage. If I have children, I want the excitement of training them to follow in my steps, if they want, sons or daughters.’

  ‘What better plan for them than to have a mother who loves them and wants to help them grow into the path they prefer? But I would also want them to have a strong family in their lives. A purpose for life itself.’

  He took the ring and it fitted perfectly on his smallest finger. He returned the other half to her. ‘I’ll treasure it. Will you marry me so I can perform the custom of giving you the matching circle as a token of our love during our wedding ceremony?’

  ‘I love you,’ she said and threw her arms around him. ‘Thank you for asking. Yes.’

  He’d not even noticed that he’d held his breath while he waited for her answer, until she’d spoken.

  This time, when he heard the word love, it was as if he’d been given a pair of wings that could take him anywhere.

  He pulled her into his arms, the kiss blazing and nothing else mattering in the world.

  Then he stepped back and slipped the ring from his other smallest finger. ‘I have this for you, if you want it. I chose it for you, hoping you would some day be my wife. And if not, I would always have it as a memento of our time together.’

  She reached up and clasped her fingers around his, their hands together, holding the jewel. And the devotion in his eyes pulled her closer and she knew she’d made the right decision and the one that would build her strength, her heart and her happiness.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The month following the wedding had been one of the most blissful of Rachael’s life. She’d wanted a simple wedding. Vows spoken softly and a quiet wedding breakfast, but Devlin would have none of it.

  He insisted that it would be best to show everyone that theirs was a true love match and that they’d discovered each other on the night of his mother’s party, and it had been a quick path to what would be everlasting devotion.

  The newspaper had even reported their happy news and claimed that the true reason for Rachael’s broken betrothal was that once she and Devlin had met, he’d known that she was the spark in his life and she was the flame in his. The article made twenty-three flammable references.

  Payton told her she should thank him as he had provided the story as he had been repeating it often enough.

  Devlin said it didn’t matter what was printed, all that concerned him was that they were together.

  Both his parents were at the wedding breakfast and, even though they did not always get on well, their connection was obvious. In public, they thrived on being a couple and, in the privacy of their home, they thrived on verbally jousting with each other. It was a marriage that they had made their own, an imperfect one at times, but one that suited them both.

  When she’d seen them together and saw their verbal jabs, Devlin confided to her that was how he’d developed the easy way he had and the ability to calm most situations. In part, his early life had trained him to soothe them and lighten the situation. But she had met his uncle and she saw the family charm that couldn’t be kept below the surface. A twinkling eye, a mouth that always ended in a smile and all the gentlemanly courtesies anyone could ask for.

  The biggest shock of the marriage hadn’t been that Devlin sometimes wore spectacles when he deciphered the smallest writing regarding his father’s properties, but that he found it so easy to shed the gaiety that he presented at parties and become silent when he was at home, comfortable with sitting beside her, poring over ledgers and writing instructions in the margins of them.

  She’d asked him why he wrote in the volumes and he’d been puzzled, telling her he’d never paid any attention, but he’d done it as he thought of what he’d just seen and it helped give them a record for the future.

  He and his father often shared breakfast, even if his father arrived late for it, and they always spoke of their properties and the course of action they should take to keep everything running smoothly.

  His mother avoided the breakfast table, but Rachael had taken to eating with them and they’d listened to her questions about her plans for the shop as if it were their own venture, yet neither had insisted she take their advice which they offered freely.

  Now she felt as comfortable in the house as if she’d been born there and no longer felt she had a tenuous slipper in society, but a well-placed one. She’d even looked through the fashion plates again and found the dress she’d thought much too costly and attention-grabbing for her. Devlin had told her she would look lovely in it and insisted she purchase it.

  And for the tenth time, Grimsley had reassured her that sales had doubled and their profits were even doing better. In only a few days, the new undertaking would open and he and the apprentice were both working long days to get everything in order.

  ‘I found Scamp,’ Devlin said as she stepped into the bedchamber, swirling the silken dressing gown around her like veils, letting the sunlight from the window reflect off them. She let the fabric float to her sides.

  ‘His owner was walking—well—creeping along with him and I stopped the carriage. He said he’d been visiting near my house one night and thought Scamp was asleep in his curricle, but when he’d returned Scamp had been gone. He was ever so relieved to see him aga
in.’

  ‘Aren’t you happy that they were able to find each other? I would hate to think of keeping him when his owner had lost him.’

  He nodded. ‘It did please me. And I discovered that Scamp’s true name was Gerald, which made me take in how little I truly knew him. But the owner said I was free to stop by his home at any time if I wanted to visit with Gerald.’

  ‘That sounds lovely.’

  ‘To everyone but Scamp. He growled at me. I think he was afraid I’d take him from his owner and he’d have to find his way home again.’

  ‘Well, you proved with your devotion to a really frail-looking dog that you could be protective.’

  ‘But didn’t you already have an idea of that?’

  ‘Yes, I did. When you saw what was going to happen before anyone else and you grasped me up in your arms and smothered out the flames. I hate to think what would have happened if we hadn’t truly met that night.’

  ‘I suspect it was meant to be that we would encounter each other at a time in our lives when we were receptive to finding a true commitment,’ he said. ‘Just like the fact that I may have seen Scamp many times over the past few years, yet I never noticed him until I heard his barking near my house one night. In fact, had I left him on the street a little longer, his owner might have found him. He said he searched for him well into the night and the next day. But then a few days later, he drove his carriage by my house, still searching, called out and Scamp...er... Gerald, bounded out and to the carriage.’

  ‘Perhaps when we recognise something’s worth, that’s when we find it.’ Then she held out her finger so he could see the lustre of the stone.

  ‘I’m pleased you aren’t wearing one of the poison containers,’ he said, moving to her and holding up both her hands and giving an exaggerated inspection.

  ‘I like the one you gave me best,’ she said.

  ‘You seem at ease when you are out, wearing them.’