Viscount of Vanity

by Tammy Andresen

  He kissed her as his fingers traced her spine. “I like your policy of honesty. It strengthens us and our marriage.”

  “I agree,” she said as she kissed him again. “As does this.” And she gestured up and down their intimate position.

  He smiled. “I can think of a better way to strengthen our bond further.”

  “Really?” she breathed, but she already knew what he referred to. Her fingers traced the lapels of his coat before he let her go to shrug off the garment.

  She slid off his lap and watched as he removed his boots and shirt next. Then he turned back to her, climbing up her body, with a grace that made her heart beat out of her chest. “I’ve never seen a man move like you. It’s riveting.”

  He gave her a lopsided grin. “Years of exercise.”

  “I love it,” she whispered.

  He stopped, his mouth now just inches from hers. “Most of my youth, I spent alone.”

  “As did I,” she returned, her fingers stroking along the scruff of his jaw.

  “I never considered the companionship a marriage would bring, but now that I have you,” he leaned down and kissed her, “I never want to be without you.”

  “Me either,” she answered, wrapping her arms about his neck. “I don’t mean to frighten you, but you’ve been terribly heroic, swooping in to save me. I fear you might be claiming my heart.”

  He stilled, lifting up. “Are you saying that you love me?”

  She nodded. “Does that worry you?”

  He kissed her then, long and slow and so achingly sweet, she melted into the mattress. “No, love. From the moment I saw you, sitting on that stoop, I couldn’t hold myself apart from you either. I think I might have loved you from that very first moment.”

  He slid his hands down her body and lifted the hem of her chemise even as she pulled at his breeches.

  As their skin came in contact, they both groaned, even as Austin gently pushed into her slick folds.

  She cried out at the feel of him filling her, causing pleasure to spiral out from her center.

  He pushed in again and then a third time and she made to roll on top again, but he stilled her with a kiss. “I’m not afraid anymore. We’ll try making love like this. If it doesn’t work, then…”

  She nodded as he picked up the pace.

  Together they moved, his muscles working over her until they were both panting with desire. She clutched him to her body even as she fell over the edge, shattering into a million beautiful shards.

  He followed close behind her, his body going rigid, his groans of pleasure filling the room until he collapsed on top of her.

  “Are you all right?” she whispered in his ear, stroking her fingertips all over his skin.

  He picked his head up, his eyes sparkling, his face relaxed. “I’m perfect, love. That was perfect.”

  She sighed, happiness filling her as she squeezed his waist. “I’m so glad. We’re going to build the most wonderful life.”

  He kissed her. “We are. I can’t wait for you to come to London with me and then to my country estate. As soon as we’re able, we’ll leave Overton.”

  She nodded, snuggling into his large frame. “I’ll be happy as long as I’m with you.”

  He tucked her into his side. “Still, the sooner we leave here, the better. We don’t need your father stirring up any more mischief.”

  That was the truth. Much as Gabriella wanted to understand her past, it was likely best left alone. She should leave this place and focus on her future.

  Chapter Fourteen

  A week passed in relative quiet. Austin looked down at his sleeping wife, a smile touching his lips. It had been the happiest week of his life.

  His childhood had been marked with disease and loneliness, his adulthood brought a level of control, which had been comforting, but exhausting. Finally, he’d reached some middle ground. He was in love; he was not sick, not lonely, no longer caged by his need for militant mastery of his body.

  He still exercised daily. Those were habits he couldn’t break, not sure he wished to, but most of his fears had dissipated. His lungs hadn’t tightened a bit during their amorous activities, and all the while his affection for his wife had amplified exponentially.

  And while he was happy to have provided for her future, he was far less concerned about leaving her and their children alone in the world, and more focused on, well, enjoying his life.

  Gabriella snuggled closer, murmuring unintelligible words as her hands slipped about him. The sun was about to rise and she’d wake soon, but for the moment, she fell back into her slumber.

  He let her black hair slip through his fingers.

  His carriage had arrived yesterday evening. Today he’d make the final preparations for their journey, and then they’d leave for London.

  He’d considered going to his country estate first, then he grinned. Maybe they would go to hers. She would surely enjoy seeing her new property. But in the end, he’d chosen London as their first destination. He wanted to sell his shares in the club. Not only would he make a hefty profit, but it would be a clean slate for them both.

  He’d never cared for the club and he knew she didn’t like it either. He’d joined to participate with his friends and to keep up the appearance of a rake. It had hidden the truth about him. But he didn’t need that shroud any longer. Not now that he was happily married.

  And in love.

  She sighed in her sleep and his fingers flexed. He wished to gather her up against his chest and keep her there always.

  But he had a busy day if they hoped to leave tomorrow.

  Which he did. He was anxious to escape this village and leave her father far behind.

  Austin had seen Gabriella’s father on two separate occasions, indicating he’d not been caught yet.

  Would he flee?

  Was it too much to hope that Mr. Winston would leave the country?

  Easing out of the bed, he pulled the bell cord to call for a bath.

  Gabriella lifted her head. “Where are you sneaking off to?”

  He chuckled. “Not sneaking. I rang for a bath…for both of us.”

  She blushed then, tossing back the covers, and pulling on her dressing robe. “That’s a lovely idea.”

  “I’ve got to spend most of the day in the village so that we’ll be ready for tomorrow, but I’d thought we’d spend a bit of time together first.”

  She stepped up to him and placed her arms about his waist. “I wish I could go with you.”

  He stroked her hair again. “I hate leaving you here. But I think it’s best you just not see him. He’ll only cause you trouble.”

  “I agree.” She stepped back as a knock came at the door.

  The bath took a fair bit longer than Austin had anticipated, but as he made his way to town, squeaky clean and thoroughly satisfied, he began to whistle despite the grey day as the carriage rumbled down the rutted dirt road.

  Tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of their lives.

  He went to the barrister first, gathered up his paperwork, then to the cobbler, and finally the dressmaker.

  As he was about to return, he noticed the three men who’d been pursuing Mr. Winston standing outside the inn, giving him a pointed look. Did they wish for his help in capturing his father-in-law?

  He considered ignoring them but crossed the street instead. If Winston had involved him or Gabriella in some way, it was better to know. “Gentlemen.”

  “My lord,” one of them replied.

  The address made Austin pause. How did they know he was a lord? He stretched to his full height. “I beg your pardon?”

  “We know you’re a viscount,” another answered.

  Unease curled in his stomach. He stared between the men, trying to decide the best course of action. Lordly disdain was likely his best option. He straightened his shoulders, glaring down at the men. “What difference does it make?”

  The one closest to him took a half step back. “Mr. Winston sa
ys you’re going to pay. Today,” he said, puffing out his chest.

  He clenched his fist. “Mr. Winston is mistaken. You should capture him. You are men of the law, I assume?”

  The third coughed. “We are. And from what we see here, you’ve stolen something that’s his, and once you pay him, he can pay us.”

  His throat closed and he swallowed down a lump. He knew where this was going, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead. “I’ve nothing that belongs to him.” They were referring to Gabriella. Somehow Winston had convinced these men that Austin had stolen away his daughter, and that he’d pay for her hand. Which was ridiculous. He’d already paid for her hand.

  The first man wagged his finger. “He’s going to take his daughter back. If you want her, you’ll have to really marry her this time.”

  He pulled the papers from his coat. “I’ve already married her, gents. I’ve got the papers to prove it. You, however, have been conned.” He watched their faces harden as they realized the truth. “I suggest you follow me. Let’s see if we can get you your man.”

  * * *

  Gabriella sat in the kitchen while Mrs. Butterfield peeled potatoes. She’d been helping to roll out pie crusts, but she’d taken a break for a bit of tea.

  Sighing, she took another sip. “This is delightful, Mrs. Butterfield. Thank you.”

  “Thank you.” The other woman gave her a warm smile. “I’ll miss you when you leave tomorrow.”

  Gabriella returned the grin. She’d miss the other woman too. “I’d hate to steal the baron and baroness’s cook but…”

  Mrs. Butterfield chuckled. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve been here my entire life, and here is where I shall stay. But I’d love if you came and visited.”

  Gabriella reached out for the woman’s hand. “I definitely will.”

  They held each other’s fingers for a moment before they let go again. “Good. Now, I shall be right back. I need some thyme from the garden.”

  Gabriella nodded, glad to stay by the stove with her tea. While the weather was slowly warming and the world was blooming, a cold, drizzling rain had begun to fall.

  The door had no more closed behind Mrs. Butterfield and she took another sip of her tea when, almost immediately, it opened again.

  Turning, Gabriella smiled. “Did you forget your bonnet?” But the words died on her lips. Because it wasn’t Mrs. Butterfield who stood in the door but her father.

  She stood with a yelp, her mug falling to the floor. “Father.”

  “Did I frighten you?” he sneered.

  “No. But I am surprised,” she answered, taking a step back. “What are you doing here? Where is Mrs. Butterfield?”

  His gaze slid to the side, just outside the door, and cold fear slid down her spine. When his eyes returned to hers, they held a mean, hard glint. “I’m your father. Aren’t I allowed to see my own flesh and blood?”

  She smoothed her hands on her skirts, taking another step back, trying to control the fear building inside. “Of course. I just didn’t expect—"

  “You were going to leave without saying goodbye.” He took two steps into the kitchen, closing the distance between them.

  So that was how he was going to be. Accusing her of wrongdoing. Her spine straightened as her fists balled in her skirts. “You sold me like a sow at market.”

  “To a viscount. A detail he conveniently left out.”

  Her chin lifted. “Because you’d take advantage like you do with—” But she couldn’t finish as he grabbed her hair, yanking hard.

  “You listen to me,” And then he gave her face a hard smack. Pain exploded along her cheekbone. “I kept a roof over your head when I should have just thrown you out on the streets.”

  Fear rose up in her chest even as her face and scalp stung. “I’m your daughter.”

  “You’re no daughter of mine, and we both know it. Your mother was nothing but a whore. She admitted as much right before she died.”

  Gabriella’s knees threatened to give. “She admitted that to you?” Her hands shook as she considered the ramifications of that statement. Had her mother’s admission of an affair to her father been what had brought about her death?

  His eyes took on a dangerous gleam as his lips pulled over his teeth. “Don’t test me, girl. Or I’ll do to you what I did to your mother.” He pulled her hair again. Pain streaked through her again, but she ignored it. He’d killed her beautiful mother. She knew it without a doubt. He sneered again. “Now, we’re going to go see that husband of yours. And if he wants you back, he’s going to pay my debts.” He jerked her hair harder. “And you’re going to tell him that I need an income, or I’ll tell him that you’re not the daughter of a gentleman, but the bastard of some filthy farmer.”

  She gasped. He was going to try and extort Austin for more money. The man had no morality. No shame.

  Gabriella nodded. Austin already knew, of course, about the affair and her questionable origins, but her father didn’t need to know that. She’d agree to anything in this moment if it meant her father would take her to Austin. Because once they were together, he’d surely keep her safe. “If-if you insist.”

  She held up her hands in submission and his grip on her hair eased. “I do, dearest daughter.”

  She drew in a shuddering breath. “He’s in the village.”

  He grabbed her arm. “Then let’s go. I’m eager to see this business done.”

  Her lips pressed together at the implication that she was inconveniencing him, but she made no reply. He pulled her toward the door, and she gasped as they stepped out. Mrs. Butterfield lay in the dirt of the garden, quickly becoming soaked. “Papa,” she said. His only response was to yank her arm harder. She dug in her heels. “We need to pull Mrs. Butterfield inside. She’ll catch her death like this.”

  “It matters not to me,” he snarled, pulling harder.

  He really was the most selfish of men. “But the baron…we don’t want to anger him.”

  He stopped, giving her another long stare. “Fine. But hurry up about it.”

  Gabriella gave a quick nod as she raced to Mrs. Butterfield’s side. Used to labor, Gabriella managed to pull the other woman into the kitchen with her father still standing out in the garden. “Hurry up,” he yelled.

  Oh, she had every intention of hurrying. She scurried the two steps back to the door and swung it closed, hauling the lock into place. Then she said a silent prayer that Austin returned soon.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The carriage rumbled through the rain, making the short trip back to Chad’s estate. Austin craned his neck as the estate came into view. The water ruined his visibility through the window, but he knew something was afoot.

  The horse nearest the carriage gave a loud whinny, and then one of the men following behind him yelled to the other, “There he is.”

  Austin didn’t need to ask to know they were discussing his father-in-law. He threw open the door to the carriage even as it rumbled over the stones in the road. Through the gate, he saw Winston pounding on the kitchen door.

  With a growl, Austin launched himself from the carriage while it still rolled down the drive. He sprinted the twenty feet to the gate, the other men still dismounting to follow him.

  He didn’t need their help. Not with this part.

  Once he was done with the man, they could haul him off to prison.

  Winston saw him coming and ceased pounding on the door. With a squeak, he turned and attempted to flee, but Austin was stronger, quicker, and in better shape in every way.

  He quickly overtook the man who fell to the ground with a pathetic cry and a plea for mercy.

  Austin had no patience for that. The man had attempted to use Gabriella as a pawn to pay his debts once again, and it was time Austin made it clear what the punishment for such abuse would be.

  Gabriella was his to care for now, and she’d not be part of Winston’s schemes any longer.

  Raising his fist, he landed a hard punch directly on Winst
on’s nose. Blood burst from his nostrils as his hands rose to his face.

  Austin grabbed him by the scruff of the neck. “Allow me to be perfectly clear,” he ground out between clenched teeth. “Should you somehow manage to extricate yourself from prison, you are not to come near my wife ever again.”

  Blood spilled down his cheeks. “When you learn the truth, you’ll beg me to take her off your hands.”

  Austin doubted that very much, and he rose, pulling the man to his feet.

  The three sheriffs had joined them, and Austin gave Winston a hard shove in their direction.

  But Winston wasn’t done. “Pay my debts or I’ll tell the entire world your wife is an illegitimate bastard.”

  “Do your worst old man. Who is going to believe a drunken, ruined gambler over a viscountess? Everything that falls from your mouth is a lie to connive your next pocketful of coin.”

  “Now there is a bit of truth,” one of the men grunted.

  “Wait.” Winston held up his hands. “I’ve still got the house to sell. I can settle my debts.”

  Gabriella stepped up next to him, her hand resting on his arm.

  A bruise was forming on her cheek and anger swelled in his chest again. “He hurt you.”

  “He’s got a point, my lord,” a sheriff said. “If he can sell the house, he’s free and clear.”

  Gabriella tightened her hand on his arm. “He knocked poor Mrs. Butterfield a good one and me too.” Her fingers brushed his cheek.

  Austin swung his gaze to the law men. “He’s confessed to a murder and abused several women he had no business touching. See that he serves for that.”

  “No,” Winston yelled, trying to dart away.

  But two of the men held him firm. “Will do, my lord.”

  Gabriella wrapped her arms about her waist, and Austin slipped an arm about her, pulling her close. “It’s over, love.”

  She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

  He grazed a kiss along her temple. “As am I.”

  “Austin,” she whispered. “Can we still leave tomorrow? I don’t want to stay here any longer.”