Viscount Can Wait, The EPB

by Tremayne, Marie

  Thomas shook his head. “No, although I did receive a vague letter of apology from Mrs. Varnham, just prior to her seemingly disappearing into thin air. Apparently, she didn’t wish to murder me at all, but only wanted to express her strong displeasure over being slighted.” He slid his arm around Eliza and shook his head. “It doesn’t matter any longer.”

  “No,” agreed the elder woman, taking a step closer to stand next to them on the drive. “I suppose it doesn’t.” Lady Evanston laced her gloved hands together before her. “And am I also to understand that you two are to be married?”

  He pressed a kiss to the side of Eliza’s head, who smiled happily in return.

  “You are,” he replied, his heart swelling with joy, still in wonder at the sudden turn his life had taken. After such an uphill fight, his heart still sometimes struggled to believe that the battle had finally been won.

  “Well then, I would like to offer a gift.” The lady glanced over her shoulder towards her carriage, and her footman appeared suddenly as if on cue, a small decorative box in his hands. He gave the box to Lady Evanston who stared solemnly at it before raising her eyes to Eliza. She extended it towards her.

  “This is for you, if you would like it.”

  Thomas watched as Eliza opened the gilded box to reveal a large emerald ring, glowing incandescently in the cloud-filtered sunlight that shone from above. He could detect her soft intake of breath as she removed it from its cushioned seat reverently to behold it aloft. The vibrant green center stone twinkled amidst the halo of pale, sparkling diamonds that surrounded it.

  Given his recent injury and convalescence, Thomas had not yet had an opportunity to find a ring for Eliza, a situation he had intended to remedy immediately. He jerked his gaze up to meet his mother’s eyes, his head tipped in inquiry.

  “This is not your wedding ring.”

  Lady Evanston scoffed and evaluated him in something akin to horror. “I would not dream of cursing your bride with a token of such a contentious marriage,” she admitted openly. “However, my mother enjoyed a happy arrangement with my father, and this was hers.”

  “Did you know,” said Eliza, her words stilted and overcome with emotion, “the emerald is my birthstone?”

  Thomas knew birthstones were commonly used in engagement rings, although he couldn’t imagine his mother had actively planned such a fortunate coincidence.

  “I did not,” the viscountess said quietly, “but I believe that bodes well.”

  Hesitantly, with great care and respect, Eliza slid the ring onto her finger. The fit was perfect, and she glanced up at Thomas in delight. He raised his eyebrows and smiled.

  “It suits you, my love,” he murmured softly, his joy at seeing her pleased expression causing his heart to constrict.

  Thomas stepped closer to his mother and she stiffened at his approach, years of reinforced barriers between them conditioning her response one more time. He paused, waiting for her to be at ease, finally leaning down to place a soft kiss upon her cheek when she was. Despite her prickly exterior, Lady Evanston’s eyes fell briefly closed at the gesture of affection. He straightened to look at her, viewing the woman as if she were some new variant of deep sea creature, never before having been discovered or seen.

  “Thank you, Mother,” he said gruffly, glancing uncomfortably away. “Whatever my faults may be, I admire you for ignoring them in appreciation of my bride-to-be, who has none.”

  Eliza snorted lightly in reproach and pushed at his arm.

  Lady Evanston’s amused glance shifted from Eliza back to Thomas. “Whatever your faults, Thomas, and I think we know you have more than a few, I can see you are marrying a woman who is entirely capable of standing up for herself. It’s a more valuable quality than perhaps you know, one I only acquired after my husband’s passing. Besides,” she said, “you seem newly open to the idea of reform, and I hope to know my new granddaughter—perhaps better than I’ve permitted myself to know my son.” She cast a sheepish glance in Eliza’s direction.

  “I think Rosa would like to know you, as well,” Eliza replied, her gaze suddenly turning uncertain. “Although, you should be aware that she is a rather unconventional child . . .”

  With a firm shake of her head, the viscountess silenced Eliza on the subject. “I have known your venerated family for decades, Lady Eliza. Do you really think I would expect anything less?” She leaned closer with a conspiratorial glance to each side, then spoke in a hushed tone. “I used to love playing in the mud. It drove both my mother and the laundry maid to distraction.”

  Eliza’s mouth fell open a second before she erupted into laughter. “Well, then, I can see you two getting along quite well,” she answered warmly.

  Eliza was here with him, conversing easily with his mother, wearing his family’s ring on her finger, standing on the drive of the estate that they would soon share together. It was hard to believe after everything that had transpired this past year, and he felt he was close to bursting with happiness.

  Thomas could feel his temperature increasing, and the urge to find himself alone with Eliza had suddenly become unbearable. Tamping down the inconvenient rise of his desire for her, he forced himself to address his mother and gestured to the house.

  “Would you care to join us for some tea?” he inquired politely amidst a haze of indecent thoughts about his soon-to-be wife.

  Lady Evanston laughed dismissively and brushed past them, making her way towards her awaiting vehicle. “Good heavens, no. I’ve no intention of overstaying my welcome so soon. Besides, you’ve only just arrived back home. I’m sure you wish to rest after your taxing journey.”

  “Rest,” he echoed in eager relief, not thinking of rest at all. “Yes, absolutely.”

  He slid a hand around Eliza’s waist, and with a snap of the reins, his mother’s carriage lurched away back down the drive, the gravel crunching beneath the wheels as it went. Thomas and Eliza waved until the gleaming black shape could no longer be discerned along the pathway. Then he tugged her unceremoniously against him, his hand imprisoning the delicate line of her jaw so he could lower his mouth greedily to hers. She uttered a tiny noise of surprise before readily submitting to his hunger, then thought better of it, shoving firmly at his chest to cast an uneasy glance at their surroundings. Likely not by coincidence, the scene had become curiously devoid of servants.

  “Not here, Thomas,” she whispered fervently. Her eyes darted around in thought. “Upstairs?”

  Desperate now, he gripped Eliza’s elbow as he strode to the house. Exhilaration flooded through his body, ready and eager to claim her. For the thousandth time since winning her heart, he felt like the luckiest man alive.

  “Perhaps the library,” he replied as they started up the stone stairway to the front door. Upstairs seemed so far away. Turning, he could see her evaluative gaze of his aroused state, not missing the way her peridot eyes glowed in appreciation. Wholly unable to resist, he jerked Eliza against him for another heady kiss. Then he forced himself to withdraw in an effort to resume their route into the manor.

  “And if you continue to look at me like that, my lady, we will never even make it inside,” he muttered, pulling her behind him.

  They only made it as far as the drawing room, which wasn’t very far at all but would serve given his need. Thomas closed the door securely behind them, then turned to slide his hands around her neck, cradling her there and nipping at her mouth. She moaned softly in heated excitement.

  “Do you remember the last time we were in this room?”

  Eliza’s dark eyelashes fluttered open to gaze at their surroundings. Her lips curved just before meeting his for another soul-stealing kiss.

  “Mmm . . . I do. Tea and sandwiches and . . .” she broke off as he squeezed her breast through her dress “. . . your angry mother.” She laughed breathlessly.

  He tugged her bodice down just enough to expose one swollen nipple. He squeezed the bud into rosy distention with his fingers, then lowered his head
to moisten it with his mouth. She arched against him with a tiny cry, gripping the rigid curves of his shoulders to pull him closer.

  “I was rather remembering you,” he whispered against the soft curve of her breast. He rose up to kiss her again, his hand sliding along her collarbone while his mouth laid claim to hers. “That pink dress of yours . . . and how you were unfathomably nice after a long season of shunning me.” He pressed her against the door. “It was pure torment, but it made me think that all might not be lost.”

  “I nearly gave in to you that day,” she murmured, her glassy eyes drifting closed as he curled his fingers around her skirts. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you.”

  Thomas raised the fall of skirts to expose the shapely length of her stocking-clad legs. He ravished her again with a kiss, then leaned in to press his hips forward, wanting her to feel the magnitude of his arousal. Eliza’s gasp only excited him more.

  “Then you shall have me. And this time, I’ll be sure to leave on my cravat. Hold these.”

  Her soft laugh faded as he guided her to clasp the bunched mass of her skirts. Then he moved one hand behind her waist while the other slipped intimately between her thighs. Dear God, she was ready for him, and Eliza’s face flushed as she cried out, her breathing turning rapid as his fingers slid into her.

  “Oh, Thomas,” she moaned.

  An audible knock sounded on the door, and they both froze.

  “Yes?” she forced out.

  “You requested tea, my lady?”

  It was Burton, efficient as ever. Evanston grinned wickedly and resumed his attentions, pressing her harder against the very door that separated their lovemaking from the butler. His fingers worked cleverly beneath her dress, and Eliza’s eyes widened as she attempted to construct a logical response while dealing with such a distraction.

  “I—yes . . .” she stammered, clearly struggling. “Take it . . . to the library . . . please . . . oh.”

  Thomas smiled at the tiny moan that punctuated the end of her sentence. Thankfully, Burton was steadfast in his efforts to ignore their mischief.

  “Right away, my lady,” he replied succinctly.

  “Thank y—”

  Evanston silenced her with another kiss. Burton could be heard moving away, the jingling noise of the tea set marking his progress, and Eliza’s hips jerked forwards in helpless response to his caresses.

  “You are unkind, my lord,” she pouted breathlessly, tearing her mouth away from his.

  “On the contrary,” he answered slyly, his rhythm picking up speed, “I am very kind.”

  Her cries grew louder, lovely eyes falling closed in near rapture. Thomas would never tire of seeing her submit wantonly to his touch, could finish this right now if he wanted, but it was not nearly enough.

  His fingers withdrew and Eliza’s glassy green eyes flew open. They were confused, slightly accusatory, right until they widened in surprise when he dropped to his knees before her. His hands found her again and he circled his thumb over the sweet secretive place that drove her wild, being driven to madness himself by the way she writhed above him.

  “Shall I kiss you here?” he asked, his voice thick and husky with longing. He brushed his lips against the vulnerable skin of her thigh, then turned his face to exhale warmly against the most sensitive part of her. Eliza’s breathing quickened eagerly.

  “Oh yes—”

  He nudged her legs further apart, then plundered her with soft sweeps of his mouth. Her head fell backwards against the polished wood of the door and she stifled a pleading moan, her fingers clutching restlessly at her skirts as his tongue slid and flicked across the overly sensitized flesh. When her hips bucked forward to meet him, he closed his mouth over that one deliciously tender place, kissing and suckling relentlessly until she was no longer able to resist.

  The sounds of Eliza finding her pleasure drove him wild with anticipation, and when she had quieted at last, he propelled himself to a stand and unfastened his trousers. She leaned against the oak panel to catch her breath, watching him through a haze of satisfaction and desire, and when he was freed, Thomas gripped the round curve of her bottom to raise her up against the door.

  “Welcome home, my love,” he murmured against her lips, just before welcoming her home in the most enjoyable way he knew.

  It was the following afternoon when Eliza and Evanston arrived at Lawton Park. Rosa broke away from the housekeeper’s hold to burst out the front doors and hurtle towards her mother with the force of a steam engine. With a laugh and steadying hand on her shoulder from Thomas, Eliza righted her balance and kneeled down to reciprocate her daughter’s affectionate embrace. She nodded at the harried Mrs. Malone, who curtsied and withdrew to allow them space for their reunion, then cinched her arms tightly around her little girl.

  “Mama! I didn’t think you’d be here until tonight!” Rosa shifted her dolls in her arms. “We were upstairs and I saw your carriage through the window!”

  Eliza buried her face in Rosa’s shining golden ringlets, then pulled back to gaze at her. “We decided to surprise you, my darling. Tell me, have you been a good girl for your aunt and uncle?”

  “Yes, Mama,” Rosa declared, followed by a moment of silence. She glanced shyly up at Thomas, her green eyes flitting back to her mother in inquiry.

  Acknowledging the silent question with a tip of her head and a soft smile, Eliza reached out to clasp the little girl’s tiny hand.

  “Would it please you to know that Thomas and I are soon to be wed?”

  Rosa’s large eyes grew even larger. They darted back and forth between both Eliza and Thomas in increasing excitement.

  “Really?”

  The viscount dropped to one knee, laughing at her exuberance while she threw herself into his arms for a hug. Her dolls collided with his head in the process, but he only chuckled and squeezed her tighter, innumerable emotions passing across his face as he did. Thomas kissed the girl soundly on the cheek, tucking a loose tendril of hair behind her ear to evaluate her seriously.

  “I’ve heard you are to thank, at least in part, for talking some sense into your mother.” He winked slyly at Rosa, who grinned brightly in return. She leaned in to make her reply.

  “I don’t know what she was thinking,” she whispered.

  Evanston laughed loudly. Eliza could not help but giggle herself at the sight of her child gazing at Thomas with such obvious admiration. Rosa leaned in yet again.

  “I’ve never had a papa before,” she said softly, as if confessing a great secret.

  Thomas stared at her in surprise, then directed his gaze to Eliza, whose own eyes had filled with tears. Eliza parted her lips to speak, but Evanston turned back to address Rosa before she could.

  “You have, my sweet, although you do not recall. But one thing I remember is how much he loved you,” he answered, smoothing her hair. “I love both you and your mother, and I can promise I’ll be the very best papa I can be.”

  Rosa blinked at him, and a smile spread slowly across her face. She threw her arms around his neck, hugging him once more, and Eliza inclined her head to brush a kiss against his temple. Evanston’s eyes fluttered closed, his handsome features relaxing with a contentment she’d never thought to see upon his face.

  When the trio finally rose to a stand they found Clara smiling from the front steps of the manor. Even the usually stern Mrs. Malone could not help but be moved by the scene that had just played out before her, and Lady Ashworth came forwards to rest an affectionate hand on the housekeeper’s arm.

  “Mrs. Malone, are their rooms prepared? I know they are a bit early.”

  With a huff of pride and a dab at her eyes, Mrs. Malone addressed her mistress. “I always plan for every contingency, my lady, including early arrivals.”

  Clara smiled knowingly. “Yes, I should have known better than to ask.” She reached a hand out to Eliza and Evanston. “Please come inside and be settled. You can see what has prevented William from greeting you hims
elf.”

  Rosa bounded ahead of the group and raced up the stairs, her chortles resonating behind to echo throughout the foyer. Eliza slipped her fingers into the warm clasp of Thomas’s hand, a seemingly small act that she could not imagine would ever cease to delight her. He caught her gaze, squeezed her fingers, and brought her knuckles to his lips for a kiss.

  His brilliant eyes were softened with an affection that she’d not seen outwardly expressed from him during their years of prior acquaintance. Thomas had spent years hiding his emotions behind his flirtations, while she had similarly found comfort in thinking of him as an irredeemable devil. Now, with all those pretenses aside, they could both stop pretending and simply be together, in love.

  The group followed Clara into the upstairs gallery where they found William, dressed immaculately in his finest aristocratic garb, standing poised upon a wooden step that had been draped in ruby velvet. A wide area had been covered with a drop cloth, and an artist was positioned at his easel, creating a worthy portrait of the fifth Earl of Ashworth.

  Determinedly, her brother held his pose, with fingers tightly gripping the lapel of his crisp blue jacket, although Eliza detected William’s eyes flicking over to her and Evanston. His mouth curved into a slightly embarrassed grin.

  “I find the timing of your arrival exceedingly unfair, as I cannot even properly greet you two.”

  The artist pursed his lips, causing his dark moustache to twitch, and gave a small sigh of exasperation. “If you could refrain from speaking, my lord, that would be most helpful.”

  William rolled his eyes. “Indeed, I cannot even speak.”

  Eliza laughed. “I am so happy to see this!” she exclaimed, coming forwards to survey the varying colors and brushstrokes used by the artist to compose a handsome likeness of her brother. Eliza glanced at Clara in grateful approbation. “It is high past time for a commissioned portrait.”