The Virtuous Viscount

by Susan M. Baganz

  Marcus looked away. Most of those activities she would no longer be able to enjoy. His heart was heavy for her loss. But she still had some things, didn’t she? “Miss Storm, we have an excellent pianoforte—you are welcome to use it any time you want. I have had little time to play it myself. It was my mother’s instrument.”

  Theo jumped up. “How about right now?” He grinned and came to stand by Miss Storm’s chair. “Would you honor us with a song?”

  “Now? I don’t know…”

  “You don’t have to, but if you would like to, we would be a most grateful audience,” said Lord Westcombe.

  “Perhaps she is fatigued.” Lady Dorothea offered her an escape.

  Josie sighed and conceded defeat. “If you wish, I could try.”

  “That’s the spirit!” cheered Michael.

  Theo helped Josie rise since he was by her side but handed her off to Marcus as she crossed the room. He assisted her to the pianoforte and helped her find middle C, although he realized a moment later that she had not needed assistance. He whispered in her ear, “I would help you turn your pages, but I guess that would be an obviously useless excuse for the opportunity to sit next to you.”

  Josie blushed. She ran her fingers up and down, playing scales to warm up. When she was finished, she launched into a hauntingly beautiful Bach selection.

  The group sat spellbound, watching her play and listening to the emotions that flowed through the notes and filled the room. When she finished, the room erupted in applause and the request for another selection.

  This time, Josie played an unfamiliar tune. She managed to use the knee levers with ease. As the music rose and fell, her face reflected joy and contentment.

  No one clapped or spoke when the last vibration of the final note ended.

  “Did everyone leave?” Josie asked as she gripped the bench with both hands.

  “No,” Marcus whispered from close by. “We were transported by the beauty of what you played. We were still lost in it when you had finished, and it seemed almost too holy a moment to mar with applause.”

  “I agree,” said Lady Grey. “You play beautifully. However, now I think it is time you got some rest if you hope to meet with us again for dinner. Marcus, would you give Miss Storm a lift to her room? I suspect she’s fatigued.”

  Marcus nodded to his aunt and bit back a smile of self-satisfaction.

  His friends protested.

  “Just one of my duties as host.” He settled Josie in his arms, and she sighed as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She laid her head close to his, and he inhaled the sweet scent of her hair.

  She smiled as he climbed the stairs.

  “Spending the afternoon with you and your friends was delightful,” she whispered.

  “I agree.”

  “Marcus, can I beg a favor of you?” Her voice sounded uncertain.

  “You may. What is it?” What could she possibly want that he had not already provided? He found his curiosity piqued.

  “When we reach my room, before you leave”—she paused and exhaled deeply before she continued—“may I touch your face?”

  What an extraordinary request. Marcus stopped at the top of the stairs and searched her face for clues. “Why?”

  Josie looked away but leaned her head against him. “I cannot see you. I can hear you, smell the soap and cologne you use, but I want to see through my fingers what you really look like.”

  Marcus grinned. “Then yes, by all means.” He proceeded to her room and set her on the bed. He drew up the chair until he was right in front of her. He brought her hands up to his face.

  She closed her eyes and give a gentle smile as her soft fingers touched his hair, all the way to the back of his head. She traced the shape of his ears and on to his chin before she moved up his jaw to his forehead and traced his eyebrows.

  He had to close his eyes as she traced them but opened them again as she did the same for his nose, cheekbones, and lips. Her own lips part slightly as she ran a finger across his. If this were any other woman, he would have suspected he was being seduced. Her touch was feather light, and he struggled against the desire for more and to be able to touch her. The entire experience was so—intimate. His pulse accelerated. Finally, he put his hands up to pull hers away. “Satisfied?”

  She opened her eyes, smiled, and tipped her head to one side. “Yes. Thank you, Marcus.”

  Molly came forward to pull off her slippers and help her to bed.

  Marcus rose to leave.

  ~*~

  Marcus headed to his own sitting room. His face tingled where she had touched him, and he missed her light touch on his skin and in his hair. He was drawn to her, yet how little did he know of her? He sighed and was about to go to his dressing room to change when a knock came to his door. He opened it to find his aunt there.

  “May I enter, Marcus?”

  Marcus stood back, allowed the door to open further, and motioned for his aunt to enter. He raised one eyebrow as he shut the door and followed his aunt to the furniture on the other side of the room. They both sat on the sofa and turned to each other.

  “You cannot hibernate in here all the time.”

  Marcus shook his head. “I came to change clothes to ride out to the home farm.”

  His aunt nodded her head, and as if she believed him.

  “And this is the only place where I have any privacy.” He glared at his aunt. “I was mistaken.”

  Aunt Dorothea narrowed her eyes. “What do you make of this business with the Earl of Chester?”

  “What am I to make of it? He has a right to do what he wants, even though it seems hard-hearted and does not reconcile with the man I’ve met. I do not know him well, though.”

  “I think you should write to him.”

  Marcus frowned. “And tell him what? You have a closer connection with him, if I recall. Why don’t you write if you think it will be beneficial? I suspect you might stir up a hornet’s nest, and Josie has had enough challenges to face.”

  “Perhaps you are right. I’ll pray on this. I’m inclined to send a letter but would need to be careful how I go about it.”

  “Sounds reasonable, you wise old woman,” Marcus teased.

  Dorothea rose and leaned over to plant a kiss on the top of his head. “You love her.” She stepped back and gazed down at him. Her eyes radiated compassion and approval.

  Marcus looked back at her but said nothing. He wasn’t ready to confide in anyone the depth of his attraction for Miss Storm when he didn’t understand it himself. She had him tied up in knots.

  Lady Grey smiled and nodded her head as if he had spoken aloud. “I thought so.” With that, she departed.

  Did he love Miss Josephine Storm? Marcus didn’t know. He rose and went to change. Duty called.

  ~*~

  Josie had taken a good nap and awakened happy. Molly worked to get her dressed in one of her nicer evening gowns, but Josie was too preoccupied to care. She kept thinking of the smell and the texture of Marcus’s skin and the rich timbre of his voice. She wondered if he sang, because she thought it would be a beautiful sound if he did. Dare she ask?

  Dinnertime arrived before she realized it, and Marcus had come again to carry her. It was odd to be floating in his arms as they moved across the hallway and down the stairs. She was safe and secure and somehow knew that this man was more than capable of protecting her from any harm.

  She heard the voices of the other men as they entered the dining room, and Lady Grey greeted her as well. She was grateful that Marcus sat to her left. He told her where on the plate the food was. She could more easily find it and not feel conspicuous. She was among friends and comfortable. The men went out of their way to make her forget her disability.

  Josie found that peas were her one downfall, and it soon became obvious. She shook her head at the absurdity of it all. She didn’t even like peas all that much. Finally, she placed her spoon down in frustration.

  “Peas giving you some troubl
e?” Michael asked, but she could tell there was a hint of humor in his tone.

  “If anyone of you laughs at me, I will fling a spoonful of these peas at you. I may not be able to see, but I can hear where you are.”

  “Tempting thought. It would be a fun thing to witness, but I am not sure how Marcus’s servants would like cleaning that off the carpet or walls.” Lord Harrow’s humor was a bit drier, but she appreciated his comforting words. They would not make sport of her.

  “I will pass, because given the company at this table, it might result in an all-out food fight. I suggest we all keep our peas on our plates if they are not making their way to our mouths.” Lady Dorothea sounded in good spirits. “If we were outside having a picnic, however, I might encourage you.”

  Laughter followed as the men shared stories of food mishaps that took place at school, including a food fight or two.

  Josie managed to eat the rest of her meal, having opted to skip the peas.

  The men bypassed their customary glass of port and instead followed the women to the drawing room.

  Lord Harrow begged to “escort” Josie across the hall.

  Josie had already grown stronger and more confident in her ability to walk. Was it only this morning that she had started the attempt?

  Once they were seated, Marcus announced a surprise. He came to stand by Josie. “Miss Storm, you tantalized us with your musical talent this afternoon on the pianoforte. I hope I am not being too bold, but would you also play this for us?”

  Josie sighed as her hands touched the cool wood. Her violin! She gently caressed the sides and tested the strings, adjusting them as needed. She held out her hand for the bow, and Marcus placed it where she could grasp it. Placing the instrument under her chin, she ran the bow across, played some scales to warm up, and tuned as she did so. Then she played. As the last of the chord hung in the air, Josie lifted the bow and laid it across her lap.

  “Breathtaking.”

  “Lovely.”

  “Incomparable.”

  “Bewitching.”

  Marcus spoke, and her heart skipped at his words. “Miss Storm, you have definitely shown forth the glory of God with the beauty you have coaxed from that piece of wood. You have a musical gift.”

  “You are kind. Thank you.” Josie raised her bow. “Would you like me to play something else?”

  They all expressed agreement.

  Josie grinned, closed her eyes, and proceeded to fiddle an energetic little tune that soon had the group clapping and laughing as the violin led their hearts in a merry dance. When she was finished, she handed off the instrument to Marcus to put away.

  “Miss Storm, every time we meet you, you become more enchanting in my eyes.” Lord Harrow’s voice was sweet to her ears.

  Heat rose to her face. “I assure you I am not without faults. I also, at times, struggle with my faith. Especially Scriptures like, ‘We know all things work together for good to them that love God.’”

  “That verse is incomplete my dear,” said Dorothea. “It continues by saying ‘to them who are called according to His purpose.’ I would suspect the difficulty in your circumstance is not only trusting God for His goodness but wondering what your purpose is when you suffer.”

  “Interesting, Lady Dorothea,” Phillip interjected as he rose, and Josie heard him move around. “I’ve never been interested in church beyond the duty of attending. Probably because I’ve never experienced anything there that bears any relation to the things you speak of, where people believe those words. It’s like you have something personal with God, but how can you trust Someone you can’t see?”

  “Lord Westcombe, I have not seen Lord Remington with my eyes. Because I have heard his voice and spoken with him and know he has heard me and has my best interests at heart, I can trust he will do all that is in his power to help and protect me. I have no fear of him dropping me, either. Yet, I have never seen him. God speaks through His word and in prayer, and sometimes He even speaks to me through others. It takes time to learn to hear His voice. It is a relationship not based on sight. If it were, I would have to question your existence.”

  Laughter followed this, and Phillip joined in. “Flush hit, Miss Storm. I bow to the truth you have presented and consider your words carefully. I do not hear God as you do.”

  “Miss Storm,” Michael interjected, “what might God’s purpose be in your infirmity?”

  Sincere curiosity tinged his question.

  Josie shrugged. “I wish I understood. All I am certain of is that if I stay faithful to God, I can trust Him. When I remember that, I am not as discouraged. I wish I might see all of you, but maybe God has something to teach me in the dark.”

  After tea, Marcus walked her to the stairs. She stopped to turn to him, placing one hand on his arm. She bit her lower lip. “I would like to attempt the stairs.”

  “I do not think that would be wise, Josie.” Concern colored his voice.

  “Why, Marcus, I believe you might be afraid that I will fall and maybe you won’t be quick enough to catch me.”

  “Maybe”—he sounded serious—“but you only started walking today. You don’t know how many steps there are.” He sighed. “And I worry you would do injury to yourself.”

  “Balderdash. The worst that could happen would be that I might find myself a bit sore on the morrow, forcing me to walk less and you will need carry me around more. Please, Marcus, let me try?”

  “I’m at your disposal.” His resignation was clear.

  Josie nodded, smiled, and grabbed the banister. With Marcus’s hand on her back, she took a step and pulled herself up. Using her other foot, she took the next and pulled herself up. One step after another, she sensed her muscles cramp and weaken, but pride would not allow her to quit. Marcus’s hand was firm and steady. She reached the top and bit back a moan at the twinge of pain that traveled down her legs. “You can carry me now.”

  He picked her up in his strong arms.

  She laid her head against his shoulder and silently chastised herself for her willfulness.

  13

  Marcus arose the next morning to bright sunshine which burned up the fog and cast everything in a rosy glow. Another visit to the home farm was on the agenda for him, but first he made his way to Josie’s room. Disappointment weighed heavy on him when he found Michael there ahead of him, hoping to carry Josie downstairs. Miss Storm apparently had other plans, and for once, Marcus rejoiced in her feistiness as much as it had frustrated him last night.

  “I would like to try to walk down. Would you be willing to assist me?” Josie asked.

  Michael’s face fell, although his friend recovered quickly.

  “Gladly, Miss Storm.” Michael extended his arm and placed her hand on his forearm as they navigated the room. Michael gave Marcus a look of triumph.

  Marcus bit back a growl. Resigned to sharing her and figuring that she was in safe hands, Marcus took off down another set of stairs that led to the kitchen. He grabbed a scone and sipped some coffee before heading out to the stables. He saddled Cloud, and soon the two were off for a ride through the sunshine and mud.

  Marcus spent the entire day at the home farm and helped dig irrigation ditches to funnel the overflow of water. The work was physically demanding. A layer of mud and sweat covered him. His thoughts were preoccupied with Josie. How did she fare in his absence? Did she even miss him? How long before she left his home to return to her own? Mr. Storm might arrive any day. Would he ever see her again? Did he want her enough to do whatever it took for her to remain at Rose Hill? That thought brought him up short. The only way that could happen would be to marry her. He had not known her long. Yet most marriages amongst the beau monde had far less knowledge of their spouses. Marcus knew more than most men about a woman they considered marrying. Still, was it the right thing to do? Lord, help me to know for sure.

  He returned home in time to bathe and change for dinner and found himself once again usurped in escorting Josie to dinner.

/>   This time, Lord Harrow had begged the honor.

  Marcus’s only consolation was that Josie sat by him through the meal. In spite of that, she did not give him her undivided attention but interacted with everyone equally. Marcus berated himself for his selfishness, and his physical exhaustion pulled him inward. He struggled to insert himself into the conversation.

  As dinner finished, Lord Westcombe escorted Josie to the drawing room and, after some covert whispering between them, took her directly to the piano and helped her sit.

  Marcus went to stand near the fireplace mantle. He was absurdly jealous of his friends as they surrounded Josie. In spite of his fatigue, he wished he could work off some of his negative energy with a bout with any one of them in the boxing ring at Gentleman Jackson’s.

  “Why so bleak, Marcus?” He startled when Lady Grey interrupted his wayward thoughts. She put her hand on his arm and searched his eyes. He had to look back or risk being rude. “I will have you escort Miss Storm upstairs tonight. She complained she had not seen you all day.”

  Marcus’s heart surged with hope. She missed him. Weariness kept him from a show of enthusiasm, however. “Thank you. I was at the home farm all day.”

  “You look fatigued. You work too hard.” She glanced over at Miss Storm. “I wonder when her father will arrive to take her home.”

  Marcus’s spirits sank. Mr. Storm should have arrived by now. He could arrive at any time. He closed his eyes against the headache he knew was imminent. Miss Storm broke into his dark, brooding thoughts.

  “Lord Remington? Where are you?” She sat at the piano, and the men backed away.

  He had a clear view of her face and figure, accented by the soft blue empire waist dress with square neckline and a small locket around her neck. Marcus gulped. “I’m over here.” Could he have sounded more lame?

  “I want to dedicate this song to you, Marcus.” Josie placed her hands above the keys and closed her eyes. The song played out simply but built in complexity. It soared, sank, and ended on light cheerful notes that resolved slowly in the silence.