The Secrets of a Viscount

by Sande, Linda Rae

  At first a bit dismayed to learn the news that she had missed seeing her betrothed by mere moments, Elise was soon giggling. “It won’t matter the time they get there,” she said with a shake of her head, her gaze going to the clock on the fireplace mantle. “Unless they’ve made an appointment, the archbishop’s office will be closed in just a few minutes.”

  The sense of disappointment that Diana felt just then had her convinced of something that, until then, she wasn’t quite sure about.

  She wouldn’t mind marrying Adam Comber.

  Otherwise, why would she experience such a sense of disappointment at hearing there would be no special license? The office would no doubt be open Monday, at which point the viscounts could secure their licenses and they could all be wed Tuesday.

  At least, they could if Adam still wished to do so once he learned Diana was illegitimate.

  And that her father was a duke.

  “It’s just a few more days,” Elise said in a whisper.

  Diana nodded. “I know.” Although she tried to feign ambivalence, she certainly didn’t feel ambivalent. Perhaps I really do wish to marry.

  Chapter 23

  An Afternoon in the Park

  The following morning

  When the housemaid knocked on Diana’s door, the young woman looked away from her vanity mirror and glanced at the small clock on her nightstand. Stunned to see it was exactly ten o’clock, Diana had to suppress the urge to run to the front door. “Come!” she called out, stabbing another hairpin into her topknot. At least the spirals at her temples were holding despite the humid weather.

  The door opened a few inches and the maid leaned in. “There’s a gentleman at the door for you, Miss Albright. Says he’s a lord,” the older woman said in awe.

  Diana allowed a grin. “That would be Lord Breckenridge,” she replied, rather surprised Mae Thatcher would display such awe when most of the girls who attended Warwick’s Grammar and Finishing School were daughters of the aristocracy. Certainly lords and ladies visited the girls on occasion. Of course, those girls who boarded whilst attending the school lived in the other buildings positioned along Glasshouse Street, six or eight in each house, while the house in which Diana lived was shared with several other instructors at the school.

  “Well, you’re not going to keep him waiting, I hope?” Mae half-asked when Diana didn’t move to get up from the vanity. “Why, if one of the others happens on him in the vestibule—”

  “I suppose I shall have to hurry,” Diana said with an arched brow, realizing Mae was convinced another one of the teachers might appear to sweep the man off his feet. She couldn’t imagine who, though, as two of the teachers were old enough to be his mother and the other made her distrust of members of the opposite sex known at every opportunity.

  She gave her hair one last look in the mirror before topping it with a smart, blue hat. Decorated with small silk peacock feathers, the hat had been a gift from her father on the occasion of her twentieth birthday along with a note to pay a visit to Madame Suzanne’s shop for the matching carriage gown and pelisse. Perhaps I’ll see you wear it in Hyde Park or at Hatchard’s, her father had written in the accompanying note. It’s been far too long.

  It had been too long since she’d last seen James Burroughs. She never dared pay a call on him at his house, though, for she was afraid his duchess might be there. Or that the woman would discover she had paid a visit. The very last thing Diana wanted was to have Helen Harrington Burroughs learn her husband had an illegitimate daughter or two.

  She hadn’t even considered the duchess might already be aware of her and her sister. The thought hadn’t crossed her mind.

  Diana stood up. “Will I need an umbrella, do you suppose?”

  Mae blinked. “Not today, miss. Why, I don’t think there’s a cloud in the sky!”

  “A parasol, then,” Diana countered as she helped herself to the bright blue pelisse and the matching lace parasol. Giving the maid a wink, Diana hurried out of her room and to the vestibule.

  She found Adam pretending to study the landscape painting over the fireplace in the parlor, one of his hands resting on a hip as the other took purchase on the mantle.

  “You’re rather punctual this morning, my lord,” she said from the threshold. “Good morning.”

  The viscount whirled about, his happy expression suddenly changed to one of awe. “I wanted to arrive much earlier, my lady,” he murmured, hurrying to join her. He reached for her hand, and that’s when Diana realized she hadn’t remembered the ensemble’s matching gloves. The kiss he bestowed on the back of her bare hand sent shivers of delight racing up her arm, though, so she suddenly didn’t mind her oversight so much.

  She managed a curtsy, stunned when he moved to place a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “Why would you wish to be here before ten o’clock in the morning?” she asked, aware of how a blush crept over her face at his show of intimacy. “You probably wish you were still abed.”

  Adam feigned offense. “In the event I might be allowed to help you dress, of course,” he said with a naughty wink. He sobered suddenly. “I am teasing, of course. I’ve never actually assisted a woman in dressing.” Although he was far better at the undressing, he hadn’t done such a thing in a very long time. When he caught what he thought was a look of disappointment on Diana’s face, he added, “But I certainly intend to learn once we’re married.”

  The blush on her face deepened. “You are a bounder,” she accused, her grin widening.

  “Aye. But yours and only yours,” he stated with a nod. His hands went behind his back, as if he didn’t trust them to remain at his sides. “Your gown is gorgeous, my sweeting. In fact, if I spotted you in New Bond Street, why, I would assume you were a duchess.”

  Diana gave a start, almost tempted to ask, What of a duke’s daughter? but decided it was too early to broach that particular subject. She was really looking forward to spending the day with the viscount. Her news, which might send him straight to his club, never to be seen by her again, could wait until later.

  “I’ll be sure to let Madame Suzanne know your good opinion,” she said with a nod. “I need to return to my room for a moment. It seems I’ve left my gloves behind,” she said as she curtsied.

  “Might I join you? I must admit to a certain curiosity about how the teachers here at Warwick’s live, especially now that I see you have such fine art in your parlor.” He indicated the landscape with a wave of his hand. “A Fitzsimmons, is it not?”

  Diana blinked as she gave a quick glance at the painting. Lady Samantha Fitzsimmons had indeed done the work, an idyllic scene of a field outside a village in the Cotswolds, although there were no sheep included in the painting. “Indeed. The Marchioness of Plymouth completed it whilst she attended school here,” she said, referring to the former Samantha Fitzsimmons.

  Adam offered his arm, which had Diana noticing how closely in color his waistcoat matched her pelisse and carriage gown. He noticed as well. “I promise, I did not have a spy tell me what you planned to wear today,” he said as he let her lead the way to her room.

  Startled she was actually allowing a man into any part of the house other than the parlor, Diana almost asked if he could return there to wait for her. His presence was most improper! But once she was in her room—Mae had obviously finished up and left to see to another teacher—the man stopped short at the threshold and held his hands behind his back as Diana retrieved the gloves from a highboy.

  “I didn’t expect such fine furnishings in a teacher’s rooms,” he commented as he first studied the four-poster bed, imagining what Diana must look like as she slept in it. He dared a thought of how he would look holding her in it, but when his loins suddenly tightened, he forced himself to think of cold water and what it might feel like to be doused by a bucket of it. He turned his attention to the high boy. “Are these all... yours?” he asked as his gaze swept the modest-sized room. Besides the wardrobe, bed, vanity and highboy, there was also a velvet w
ingback chair and a bookshelf stuffed with leather-bound books. A rose-colored carpet covered nearly the entire floor.

  Following his gaze, Diana gave a shrug. “They are. A gift from my father when I accepted the position here,” she replied, remembering the note that accompanied the surprising delivery.

  How had the Duke of Ariley learned she had secured the position? Did the man have informants beyond the gossips who frequented his men’s club?

  Men are the best gossips, her mother had always said.

  Since the quarters had already come furnished with a cot and a few other shabby pieces, the movers were forced to divest the room of its existing furniture to make way for the grander pieces. The old stuff had found new homes in other rooms throughout the house.

  “He must have been very proud of you,” Adam remarked, one of his eyebrows furrowing. Faith! From the conversation they’d had at Gunter’s two days before, he knew her father managed an estate.

  But where? Did the man even live in town?

  And if he did live in London, Adam wondered if he should do right by the man and seek his permission to marry Diana.

  Adam chided himself that he hadn’t even considered requesting her father’s permission to marry her. During their time at Gunter’s, the conversation about her family had been limited to her late mother and the fact that her father had remarried, apparently recently.

  Rejoining him at the door, Diana nodded. “He was rather proud,” she agreed, deciding it was better he be left thinking her father and her were estranged. She had no intention of telling him who her father was, at least, not yet.

  Adam seemed to show a hint of relief. “I had hoped I wouldn’t have bad news this morning, but there’s been a bit of a... a hiccup,” he hedged as he escorted her down the hall to the vestibule.

  “Oh?” she replied, deciding not to admit she knew he’d been unable to secure the special license.

  Or had the man changed his mind about a quick wedding? About a wedding at all?

  “Despite our best efforts to make it to the archbishop’s office yesterday, Lord Thorncastle and I were too late,” he said sadly.

  The disappointment she felt at hearing the confirmation was more for her Aunt Elise than for herself. Although Elise didn’t seem particularly excited about her impending nuptials to the older viscount, there had been the moment when Diana realized the woman did feel affection for Thorncastle. Probably had for many years. Now was their chance to finally marry. To make the life together they had been denied all those years ago.

  “Which simply means we’ll marry another day,” Diana said with a bright smile. She still didn’t believe the man would actually marry her—especially if he learned the truth of her parentage—but her curiosity had her wondering if he might offer a completely different proposal.

  One that involved carte blanche.

  Should he do so, she would then know his true character. Once offended, she would make her ire known in how hard she slapped the man across his too-handsome face.

  And then she remembered his comment about women who slapped men across their face.

  “You don’t seem too terribly disappointed,” Adam hedged as they took their leave of the building and made their way to a glossy black town coach parked at the curb. The Aimsley crest was emblazoned in bright gold paint on the door.

  Diana gave a slight shrug as she allowed him to assist her into the coach. “I have learned never to take anything for granted, my lord,” she replied. “And not to expect too much from anything.”

  The viscount paused before joining her in the coach. The comment implied she knew far more about life than she should for a woman so young. “But, why?” Adam countered as he climbed in behind her, rather happy to find she had left space for him on the seat next to her. He settled into the squabs even as he regarded her.

  “I am never disappointed. Or rather, too disappointed,” she said with a sigh.

  Adam considered the response. “Then it seems you must not look forward to anything either. In the event it’s cancelled or otherwise altered,” he reasoned, his brows furrowing.

  Diana gave a start. “Oh, but I do,” she countered, hoping he wasn’t referring to their wedding. If she wasn’t careful, he might end their engagement before it had ever begun just because he sensed she was ambivalent. “I just... I just try not to hang my every hope of happiness on things over which I have no control.”

  Allowing a sigh, Adam took one of her gloved hands in his. “I should never want you to be disappointed,” he commented. “Especially in me.”

  Her eyes widening at his words, Diana felt a strange tug in her chest. Reason told her she shouldn’t give it a moment’s notice—mathematically, this was not a union that had any hope of happening—but she couldn’t help the bit of unreasonable hope that flared just then. “If I expect you to be a bounder, and you are, what then?” she replied with a teasing grin.

  Adam brought her gloved hand to his lips and kissed the palm. “I do not believe I shall live up to that expectation,” he replied, a strange twinge twisting somewhere in his chest. Without even thinking, he brought his lips down to hers and kissed her. Perhaps he thought to seal his words with the kiss, to further prove himself, although a kiss was entirely inappropriate given the circumstances. He realized it almost immediately, but when he was about to hit himself upside the head and apologize, he found Diana staring up at him in wonder. And before he could hit himself upside the head, her lips were suddenly back on his, her free hand moving to his shoulder as if she needed something on which to hold.

  Lost in the sensation of her lips on his, on how her soft breaths washed over his cheeks, how the light citrus scent of her filled his nostrils, and how his arm had moved to wrap around her back, Adam had no idea how much time passed, nor was he aware the coach had yet to move. And he might have stayed lost in her kiss far longer if the coachman hadn’t opened the trap door above.

  “Where to, milord?” the man asked, his weathered face suddenly replacing the bit of blue sky made evident from the open door.

  Adam blinked as he jerked away from Diana. She seemed nearly as startled as he felt, and he felt as if he’d been caught with his hand in the biscuit jar. “Hyde Park,” he called up.

  When he turned his attention back to Diana, she was regarding him with an expression that suggested she had been the one caught with her hand in the biscuit jar. “You honor me,” he murmured, hoping she would simply continue what they had been doing when they were interrupted.

  Her pulse pounding in her ears, Diana wondered at what had her behaving so. She had kissed the man! She had displayed the sort of wanton behavior her mother had warned her could lead to the worst possible outcome!

  But Adam’s response was completely unexpected. From what her mother had said, when given such an invitation, a man would think it his right to ravish her, to have his way with her, to take her virtue and claim it was all her fault. Instead, Adam simply stared at her with a besotted look.

  You honor me.

  “I cannot believe I just did that,” Diana managed in a hoarse whisper.

  “Me, neither,” Adam replied in wonder. “But may I be allowed to suggest you do it whenever the fancy strikes you? Because, I’m quite sure I won’t mind.” He tried but failed to think of places where he might mind being caught unawares by being kissed out of the blue, but damn if his brain couldn’t come up with a single example just then.

  A blush suffused Diana’s face. She couldn’t be sure if he was teasing her or if he was serious. This was maddening!

  Straightening in the squabs, she turned her attention to the window, a bit dismayed at finding the curtains spread open. Anyone on the street might have seen her kissing the viscount. “Is this why we’re riding in a town coach instead of a phaeton? Or a curricle? So that you might have your way with me?” Suspicion colored her voice.

  Adam allowed a sigh of frustration. “I thought only to escort you on a walk in the park. And since I’ve yet to procu
re a phaeton, a town coach was the only conveyance available to get us to the park.”

  Diana’s brows furrowed. Didn’t every young buck own a phaeton? Red or yellow, with a pair of matched greys to pull it? Before she could put voice to a query, though, Adam allowed another sigh.

  “My father owns a phaeton, of course, but he’s rather proud of it. Won’t allow me or my brother the use of it.”

  Not quite sure why, Diana felt a bit like giggling just then. Had she a brother, she was quite sure her father wouldn’t allow him the use of his phaeton, either. But the reminder that Adam had a brother had her curious. “Have you seen him since the war? Your brother, I mean?”

  Adam allowed a shrug, secretly pleased she was no longer suspicious of his motives on this fine day. He grimaced, though, at the thought that she might know Alistair. “He and his wife were my mother’s guests for dinner last week. I think because she wanted time with her grandson. Have you met Alistair?”

  Diana dipped her head. “Only in passing. His bride was a student at Warwick’s my first year there. She brought him to the school shortly after they were wed. To introduce him to some of her former classmates at the soirée they hosted.”

  “Ah. Showing him off, no doubt,” Adam commented. The hint of jealousy in his voice couldn’t be missed.

  “I think she wanted to show that a man had deigned to marry her,” Diana countered, her words carefully chosen. At Adam’s look of confusion, she added, “There were some who thought Lady Julia rather proud, but I never found her to be so. At least, not any more so than the other girls at the school.”

  Adam seemed to give her words a good deal of consideration. “Given Alistair’s position, I hardly think she could be too proud,” he agreed.

  Although Alistair had been an officer in the British Army, he had returned from Belgium having made a promise to fund the widow and children of a fellow soldier who had died in his company. When their father, Mark Comber, Earl of Aimsley, refused to help with the monthly stipend, Alistair sold his commission and invested the funds in a five-percenter. Furious at learning Alistair had sold the commission, the earl disowned him, and so Alistair was forced to take a position as a groom in the Harrington House stables.