A Marriage Deal with the Viscount--A Victorian Marriage of Convenience Story

by Bronwyn Scott

  He reached for his discarded trousers and took out the paper he’d folded away. ‘I was coming to tell you about this.’ His grey eyes moved over hers. ‘We have an investor. It’s the beginnings of our syndicate. Others will come, I am sure of it. His name is Peter Sullivan, he heard about the alpacas in London. He’s passing through on his way to Exeter tomorrow and he wants to come for dinner, to see the animals and to talk about investing. We are so close, Sofia. Stay, believe in me, believe in us just a while longer.’ He paused. ‘Let me prove myself to you. No matter how this thing between us started, it is not that any more, it is far deeper, far more than the convenience either one of us imagined. Say you’ll stay.’

  ‘It seems I am always saying yes to you, Conall Everard.’ She smiled, but they both knew that what had happened against the wall and what was happening now didn’t fix everything. Something between them had been tested today and, while it had survived, it was not entirely intact. Yet. And despite the fact that he roused within her, hungry for her again, and that she would slake that need once more here in the office, there was a chance it might never be. She might have to face the reality that she was too broken to fix.

  * * *

  The next evening, the family gathered expectantly in the drawing room, waiting to welcome Peter Sullivan. Sofia smoothed the skirts of her evening gown, keeping her nerves under control as she smiled at Cecilia and Freddie. This was a big night. For them, it was about the hope in meeting a potential investor. Beneath that, there was more at stake between her and Conall. This was about Conall showing her he meant for her to be his partner in all ways. Not only as business partner, but as his wife. I love you, he’d whispered yesterday. Tonight, he was acknowledging that by presenting her to his guest.

  It was a public and sincere apology for yesterday. Perhaps there was hope for them after all, perhaps Conall was right and they could make a life between them. Her heart ached for that, even after yesterday’s discoveries. But she knew, too, that not all of her had quite forgiven him for the deception. Her mind had not been quiet all night with the doubts. She couldn’t simply pretend his ruse didn’t matter. Neither could she pretend she’d been taken in by that trick, that her guard was not as staunchly established as she liked to believe.

  ‘Did you and my brother quarrel?’ Cecilia whispered, coming to stand beside her while they waited for their guest. ‘You’ve hardly looked at one another since we’ve gathered and I swear the tension between you is almost palpable.’

  Sofia smiled. She’d not wanted the family to know. ‘It’s nothing, just a misunderstanding. Newlywed things,’ she offered vaguely. ‘It will be fine.’

  Cecilia was about to press for details when Sofia was saved by the crunch of carriage wheels in the drive. She patted Cecilia’s hand, redirecting the girl’s attention. ‘Our guest is here.’

  There was noise at the front the door, footsteps coming down the hall. The footman intoned, ‘Mr Peter Sullivan.’ A dark-haired man with olive skin stepped into the room, sweeping them an expansive bow, his eyes locking on hers as the hairs on her neck prickled.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  This was not Peter Sullivan. Instinctively, she stepped in front of Cecilia, shielding the girl as her worst fears were realised. Giancarlo was here, in this very house where she was supposed to be safe. Her throat tightened. She needed to speak, needed to warn everyone, but she couldn’t make her voice work. Conall stepped forward to shake the man’s hand. She found her voice. ‘Conall, no.’ But it was too late.

  Giancarlo had come up from his bow with a long-nosed pistol in hand. From her angle, she saw the confusion on Conall’s face as he tried to make sense of a guest with a gun. Why would an alpaca investor have a pistol? ‘Stand down, Viscount.’ Giancarlo waved the gun. ‘Sofia, mi cara, why don’t you introduce me properly?’

  ‘Sofia, what is going on?’ Conall’s eyes darted to hers, his mind starting to register the answer on its own.

  ‘Shut up, or I’ll shoot you now instead of later.’ Giancarlo trained the gun on Conall. ‘Sofia can decide how long I’ll wait to shoot you. Introduce me, mi cara.’

  She swallowed. She knew this game. Her compliance in exchange for an act of mercy. She’d thought never to have to play it again and certainly not here in the haven of Everard Hall surrounded by people she cared for. ‘This is Giancarlo di Bianchi, Marchese di Cremona.’ She fought to keep the tremble from her voice. She could not show any fear, nor too much defiance. Too much of either would set him off.

  ‘And?’ he prompted as if she were a silly child who didn’t know her manners. ‘Who are these fine people, mi cara?’

  ‘This is the Dowager Viscountess of Taunton, her son, Mr Alfred Everard, and her daughter, Miss Cecilia Everard.’ Sofia could feel Cecilia tense beside her and Freddie was bristling from across the room by his mother. She hoped Freddie wouldn’t try anything gallant. He was no match for Giancarlo’s games.

  ‘Your new family, I hear?’ Giancarlo made a mockery of small talk. ‘Felicitations on your marriage. I should offer those good wishes now, before it’s too late. I’ll be offering condolences before long.’ He chuckled. ‘Married, divorced, remarried, widowed, remarried again. You will have quite the reputation.’

  Cold settled over her. In her worst imaginings, she’d pictured Giancarlo taking her. Hurting Conall in the effort. But not this. Not murder. With Conall dead, there would be nothing, no paper, no law, no marriage, no man, to stop Giancarlo from claiming her again. A glance slid between Freddie and his mother. Giancarlo caught it, too.

  ‘I do mean business, although not alpaca business. I am sure that is disappointing for you, it was just a little trick to get an invitation. No one can ever say Giancarlo di Bianchi was an uninvited guest.’ Giancarlo laughed at his joke. ‘I wouldn’t try anything, you two. Let’s keep this simple. I am here for what is mine and that is La Marchesa. If you will just come with me, Sofia, we can let these people get on with their dinner.’

  ‘She is not yours,’ Conall spoke forcefully. ‘She is my wife and she will not leave this house against her will.’

  Giancarlo’s face turned up into a wicked leer. ‘I don’t think that will be a problem. As a gentleman, I will give her a choice, of course. You insult my honour.’

  Conall’s next words were for her. ‘You are not to go with him, Sofia, no matter what. Promise me.’

  ‘If she loves you, if she loves any of you, she cannot possibly promise that and she knows it.’ Giancarlo smirked. ‘Don’t you, mi cara?’

  ‘You can’t win. You have one shot,’ Conall reminded him. ‘You might shoot me, but there are four others in this room and a house full of servants who will bring you down.’

  ‘I can see why you like him, mi cara, he’s a gallant fool. You always had a sweet spot for those sorts.’ Giancarlo laughed. ‘Willing to die for her, Taunton? She’s that impressive in bed, isn’t she? And for your family? That’s quite noble. I have yet to meet anyone I’d die for.’ He shrugged, his glittering dark eyes hard on Conall. ‘As for the odds, you’re wrong. Not much of a gambler, are you? I did not come alone. While we’ve been passing the time of day, my men have rounded up your staff and secured them. They will not be harmed if everyone co-operates, but neither will they be coming to your assistance.’ Heavy boots sounded in the hall. ‘Ah, here they are now.’

  Sofia felt chilled as the hulking form of Andelmo entered the drawing room while a group of men loitered in the hallway. All hope was leaching away. There was real danger here that they would all die and quite horribly.

  ‘Andelmo, if you would keep a gun on this fine gentleman? Taunton seems inclined to honourable sacrifice. I’ll see to my wife.’ Giancarlo advanced on her. She stepped towards him, shaking off Cecilia’s hand. She wanted as much distance between her and the girl as possible. She would wield her beauty as a shield, a chance to keep all the focus on her. With luck, Giancarlo would forget abo
ut the dark-haired girl.

  ‘Ah, Sofia. Molte bene.’ His cold eyes raked her. ‘You look as beautiful as ever.’ His arm was about her, drawing her against him as a shield, a wicked blade to her throat, his mouth close to her ear, the smell of brandy strong on his breath. He’d been drinking in the carriage. ‘What have you told the Viscount about us? Does he know all the things you did for me? Does he know what a naughty little runaway you are? Did you show him the brand? Perhaps he doesn’t mind a used whore.’

  He tried to march her towards the door, but she dug in her heels. He would not slice her throat. She had a certain latitude there. But he would not hesitate to carve out some retribution of his own, or to throw the blade, finding a target in another of the victims in the room. ‘Andelmo will shoot Taunton, I promise you,’ he spoke at her ear. ‘Don’t take it personally, Taunton,’ he spoke beyond her. ‘I need her for an heir and for my own standing in the court. Divorce is no longer acceptable in Piedmont. The King’s son has the throne now and he’s done away with his father’s liberal leanings. If I don’t bring her back, I shall be reduced. Surely, as a man who was recently in need of funds himself, you can understand.’

  Sofia was breathing hard now, fighting back the panic his words brought on. She would not go back, she would not...and yet what choice did she have? Conall would not die for her, no one in this room would die for her. She’d brought ruin on them just as she’d always known she would. She would never be free of Giancarlo. The old fears, the old worries, were back in full force now. She could never be free, but Conall could, his family could. She could give them that.

  ‘Don’t make it hard on yourself, my dear. I dare say there is punishment enough waiting for you as it is.’ He paused and put on an exaggerated show of thinking. ‘How about this—come with me peaceably and I won’t let Andelmo exact retribution for the drubbing Taunton gave him in town.’

  ‘No, Sofia, don’t listen to him,’ Conall growled in his corner, a caged bear trapped by a hunter.

  Giancarlo forced her forward. ‘I will not ask you to walk out of here with me again. Do you remember that boy on Sardinia? The one who flirted with you?’ The one he’d shot in the knee, who would never walk right again. ‘You know I’ll do it. Start walking. The moment we’re down the drive, Andelmo will lower his gun. You are the only one who can stop the bloodshed, who can keep your Viscount alive.’

  She knew he was right. Sofia began to walk. Conall made a move, brought up short only by her words. ‘Don’t, Conall. I am not worth it. Let me do this for you.’ She willed him to stay still, to stay quiet, to do nothing that would cause Giancarlo and his dubious code of ethics to change his mind.

  ‘You see, she’s not leaving unwillingly, just as I promised,’ Giancarlo taunted Conall one last time before he hauled her down the stairs and stuffed her into the dark carriage.

  It was all falling apart; her world, her heart. Tears were wet on her cheeks. If she broke down now, she might never recover, might never put the pieces of herself back together. Giancarlo had threatened her in Conall’s home. The fear she’d so recently released came back in waves, smothering her, shrouding her. The weight of it settled on her shoulders, heavy and familiar, a dark cloak she couldn’t shake off as she faced Giancarlo in the carriage, helpless as he bound her hands. ‘I can’t take any chances with you, can I?’

  She’d been ten kinds of a fool to think she could walk in the light, that she could escape. Giancarlo would have killed Conall if she hadn’t complied. ‘Don’t cry, mi cara, you’ll forget him soon enough. I’ll personally see to it. It will be in your best interest.’

  Giancarlo settled a hat with a thick veil on her head. ‘Just a precaution in case anyone recognises you. We can dispose of it when we reach the ship.’ He drew the veiling down, the first of many barriers that would separate her from Conall, from the life she’d so briefly had before the day was through. By this time tonight, England would be behind her, happiness would seem a lifetime ago when she was someone else.

  ‘Do you think he’ll come after you?’ Giancarlo settled against the squabs with a jeer. ‘Or will he decide you are more trouble than you’re worth?’ She stiffened. She knew this game, too. It was meant to sow doubt, to remind her she was worthless.

  Giancarlo fingered his knife, testing the blade. ‘It’s an interesting litmus test, isn’t it? If he comes, then you’ll know he’s truly besotted. He’ll be dead, of course. I have my guns, my knives, I have Andelmo and so many ways to kill him, but at least you’ll know he loved you and not your money or your looks. How would you like me to do it? Would you like me to gut him in front of you or just shoot him? If he dies, it will be your fault. You should at least get to choose how. Then again, he might not come at all and you’ll know it was all a sham. If so, you should thank me for showing you his truth.’

  ‘You’re despicable.’

  ‘And you’re still beautiful.’ He leaned forward and lifted her veil. ‘We’re safe enough in here, I suppose. Just you and me.’ The blade tickled its way down her jaw. She watched him rub himself with his other hand. ‘You still arouse me despite how bad you’ve been. You are even more beautiful than I remember. When I walked into the drawing room, you looked like an angel with that pale cloud of hair, those pearls at your neck, you dressed in cream silk, like a damned virgin.’

  He pulled the pins out of her hair, vicious and rough until the strands fell about her shoulders. ‘There, now you look the young girl in truth. Do you remember my favourite fantasy with you: the virgin and the dragon; you bound to the altar, or tied to the stake? Of course, you’re not a virgin any longer, or even exclusively mine. How many lovers have you taken since you left? We’ll have to have you purified first before we can play those games. There are purgatives that guarantee you don’t come to me with the Viscount’s babe in your belly.’ That brought on an additional sense of panic. It was too early to know, but what if? What if she carried Conall’s child? Would that innocent pay for her, too?

  He smiled. ‘Because of you, I’ll be obscenely rich. If you’re nice, I’ll be generous. I’ll have the opportunities promised to me by the King.’

  She forced herself not to look away, to show no fear as the bulge in his trousers grew. ‘You cannot claim my heart. You never could.’ But Conall had claimed it. She knew that now, despite her anger yesterday, despite that doubt. She knew that she loved him and he loved her. She knew it only when it was too late to do anything about it but save him.

  Giancarlo chuckled cruelly. ‘I never wanted your heart, just your body and your obedience.’ He stretched out his legs. ‘Get comfortable my dear, we’ll drive through the night. We sail at dawn. Andelmo will meet us in Bristol. How nice, the three of us back together again for the duration of our voyage. Who knows what entertainments we’ll come up with? Just like old times, don’t you think?’

  * * *

  Dawn was just hemming the edges of the sky when Conall rode into Bristol. He couldn’t afford to rethink his choices. He’d bet it all on Bristol as Giancarlo’s destination. Searching the roads at night had slowed him down considerably, that and the fact that Andelmo had overstayed his welcome. The thug had not followed his master’s orders and left when the carriage reached the end of the drive. Instead, Andelmo had held them at gunpoint for a nerve-racking half an hour beyond that, and then bound them up to keep them from following. If it had just been him alone, Conall would have launched himself at the man and taken his chances with the gun, but the presence of his family and the servants effectively held him hostage against such heroics.

  By the time he was free and mounted, over two hours had passed and Sofia was further and further from him, in the clutches of a man who terrified and tortured her. It was exactly what Conall had promised her would never happen. He’d also promised her that he’d come for her and he intended to keep that promise at least. He hoped. Right now, that was all he was living on, hope that he’d guessed correct
ly. There were many roads out of Taunton. Giancarlo might have gone to Exeter, or Bristol, or any of the other coastal towns. Conall was betting on Bristol after none of the other usual carriage routes turned up any sign of a man meeting his description passing that way.

  Freddie had wanted to come, but Conall had emphatically insisted he stay behind to look after his mother and Cecilia, both of whom were visibly shaken from the ordeal. He didn’t want to worry about Freddie when there was already Sofia to protect and Giancarlo was as cruel and as twisted as they came. He would need all his wits to bring her home safe. And he would.

  He loved her. Sofia had been his hope, then a lifeline for a failing estate. But she’d become so much more—the woman he loved, the woman he wanted to build his dreams with, his own family with. He would not fail. To fail would doom her to Giancarlo and the unthinkable. He surveyed the busy port and swung off his lathered horse. He had to act fast. Boats would sail on the tide. If she was on one of these ships, he would miss her. He tossed the reins to a boy waiting to earn a penny. He’d start at the shipping offices, that would be faster. If that wasn’t successful, he would throw his title around and search each ship personally.

  Conall was in luck at the shipping offices. There was a ship leaving for the Mediterranean on the tide. It was a merchant vessel. A man by the name of Carstairs and his wife had taken the cabin. The names didn’t match, but Giancarlo’s description did. Conall was sure it was them. But he had to hurry. Morning had broken and the ship would sail. Conall broke into a run. He had only a matter of minutes.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Just a few more minutes and the ship would cast off. Conall would be safe. Sofia repeated the words again and again, holding herself together up the gangplank. She stumbled, Giancarlo jerking her roughly upright. She fought the urge to look back, to hope ridiculously that Conall would somehow be there. Giancarlo would make her pay if she did. It would be a futile effort. Conall wouldn’t be and she didn’t want him to be. To be here put him in danger. It had to be this way.