The Viscount Finds Love (Fairy Tales Across Time Book 2)

by Bess McBride

  Mary entered, tidying her hair, as if she had hurried to dress.

  “Halwell! What is it? Is Lady Georgianna all right?

  “Lady St. John! Forgive me for barging in at such an early hour, but I had to speak with you.”

  Mary turned and closed the door quietly. “What has happened?”

  He could contain himself no longer. “This Miss Hickstrom of yours...”

  Lady St. John threw up her hands. “Oh, she’s not mine!”

  “But you are the person who is most acquainted with her.”

  “Okay, if you want... What did she do?”

  “Then you must know! Or why would you ask me ‘What did she do?’”

  “Halwell, I have never seen you angry! You are so worked up! What’s going on? Did she tell you her plans?”

  “Plans? What plans? Why would I concern myself overly much with Miss Hickstrom’s plans?”

  “Because they affect you?”

  “Affect me! How so? What do you know?”

  Halwell took a step forward, and Mary took a step back. The door flung open at that moment, and St. John saw her action. He pulled her out of the way, pushing her into the hall, and threw himself upon Halwell.

  Halwell, having never engaged in a physical altercation in his life, fell backward onto the floor with a painful thud to his back. He scrambled to his feet as the angry figure of St. John loomed over him.

  “Get up, you cur! Savage my wife, will you?”

  “St. John! Stop it! Nothing happened!” Mary rushed into the room, pulling at her husband’s arm.

  Halwell put his fists up in some semblance of a boxing stance and awaited a blow from St. John’s clenched hands.

  “Stop it!” Mary cried out as her husband launched himself at Halwell again, knocking them both to floor.

  They rolled back and forth striking at each other as best they could.

  Halwell heard Mary’s screams and then those of another female. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Miss Lee run into the room. She threw herself at the rolling men and found herself flung backward onto the floor.

  Rough hands hauled them apart, and Phelps pulled St. John to his feet, restraining him as Halwell jumped up again. The housekeeper stood in the doorway, as well as several footmen. Even in the heat of the moment, Halwell knew the situation was terrible.

  Miss Lee was on the point of rising when Phelps spoke, still gripping St. John.

  “St. John, calm yourself. Miss Lee has been injured.”

  Mary sobbed, and the housekeeper looked aghast.

  But it was Miss Lee’s ashen face that stung Halwell the most.

  “Miss Lee! Forgive me. Are you injured?” he asked, warily moving beyond St. John to reach her side. He helped her to her feet.

  “I’m all right!”

  “Leave this house,” St. John demanded, shaking off the estate agent. “At once.”

  “It’s not what you think, St. John,” Mary protested. “He was just asking me about Hickstrom!”

  “I do not care. Leave at once!”

  Halwell grabbed his top hat from the floor and executed the most cursory bow.

  “Please accept my apologies, Lady St. John, Miss Lee.” He strode from the room, wondering what had possessed him, why he had stormed into the castle demanding answers about Miss Hickstrom. He could not forget the stark look in Miss Lee’s eyes, and her face haunted him as he took his horse’s reins from the waiting groom, mounted and rode away from Alvord Castle.

  Chapter Twelve

  Rachel watched Halwell storm from the room and turned to see St. John look at his wife.

  “I can’t believe you did that!” Mary said, tears streaming down her face. She looked at Rachel. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

  “Miss Lee, please forgive me,” St. John said, his anger gone.

  Roger stood back, his hands clasped behind his back. Mrs. Green shooed the footmen away and closed the door behind them.

  “I’m okay,” Rachel said, “I’m okay.”

  “He just wanted to know about Hickstrom,” Mary said to her husband. “I think she must have talked to him about something. He seems very angry and very confused. I’ve never seen him so upset, but he wasn’t angry with me. What did you think he was doing?”

  “I saw you fall back as he lunged toward you,” St. John muttered. “Knowing how he felt about you, I thought he was on the point of—”

  “St. John,” Roger cautioned.

  St. John pressed his lips together.

  “He was just excited. He wasn’t going to touch me. He surprised me, and I jumped back. That’s all. This has nothing to do with me. That had nothing to do with me.”

  Rachel disagreed, but she didn’t voice her opinion. The situation was already too volatile.

  “What did Hickstrom say to him?” she asked Mary.

  Roger turned to Mrs. Green.

  “Please do what you can to calm the servants, Mrs. Green. Thank you.”

  “I will try, sir, but they will talk. I cannot prevent this scandal from leaving the castle.”

  “Who cares?” Mary asked in obvious frustration. “It’s just a misunderstanding.”

  “Everyone will care, Mary,” St. John said roughly. “I have done such damage to our good name, perhaps even to Halwell’s reputation. I am so very sorry.”

  Mary moved toward him and took his arm. “No, you haven’t. It was just a thing. I don’t care what people think.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Green,” St. John said, as if encouraging her to leave.

  She turned and left.

  “Let us all sit and calm ourselves,” Roger said. “I think a glass of brandy for everyone is in order, even given the early hour of the day.”

  Rachel sat down next to Mary on the couch and took her hand. St. John stood rigid, his hands clasped behind his back, genuine remorse on his face as he stared down at the carpet.

  Roger poured out drinks and handed one to St. John.

  “Please sit down, St. John.” Roger spoke to him in a familiar tone. “The ladies cannot know your sorrow if you loom over them thus.”

  St. John looked up, took the drink and sat down in a chair opposite the sofa. Roger handed Rachel a drink and offered one to Mary.

  “I’d better not, thanks,” she said, pressing a hand to her abdomen. She drew in a sharp breath, then looked over at her husband with wide eyes.

  Rachel stared. Mary hadn’t merely declined the drink but had suggested she shouldn’t drink.

  “Mary?” Rachel asked.

  “It’s too soon to tell,” she said, color bright in her cheeks.

  “What is too soon?” St. John asked.

  Rachel turned to look at the men. No woman should have to tell her husband she was about to have their child in such awkward company. Rachel set her drink down and rose.

  “Roger and I will take a walk down to the gatehouse.”

  “What?” Roger asked. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You and I are going to take a walk while Mary talks to her husband!” Rachel said. She took Roger’s drink from him, grasped his arm and pulled him out of the room. A last look over her shoulder showed St. John and Mary rising to meet each other in the middle of the room.

  Roger allowed himself to be propelled from the house and down the steps. Once onto the drive, he paused and turned to Rachel.

  “What is afoot?”

  “Nothing that I can talk about,” Rachel said with a patient smile. “That would be Mary’s business. Let’s walk.”

  “As you wish,” he said. “I feel I must apologize for my friend. You have only just met St. John, but I have known him all my life. He is normally much more circumspect in his behavior.”

  “No need to apologize for him. He loves his wife, and he thinks Halwell does too. It sounds like he thought Halwell was making a pass at Mary.”

  “Making a pass?” Roger’s cheeks reddened.

  “I can see you know what I mean.”

  “I am not certain that St. John
thought worse of the situation.”

  “Assault?”

  “Miss Lee, please.”

  “No, Halwell would never!”

  “Of course not.”

  “But I do believe he is still in love with Mary, so St. John’s jealousy is understandable.”

  “Do you?” Roger asked.

  “Yes, I do.”

  “I know the subject is very distressing to you, but if I may ask, why would Miss Hickstrom attempt to bring about a liaison between you and the viscount if Lord Halwell still harbors feelings for Lady St. John?”

  “I don’t know. To help him get over her? But look at me! Do you think I look like the kind of gal who can make a man get over someone like Mary?”

  Roger turned to look at Rachel. “Yes,” he said frankly. “I do.” He held her eyes for a moment before looking ahead toward the drive.

  “Oh!” Rachel said in some embarrassment. “Well, thank you!”

  “You are welcome.”

  They walked on in silence until they neared the end of the lane.

  “The gatehouse is just to the left, but I cannot offer you tea. I have no housekeeper.”

  “You need a housekeeper to make tea?”

  “No, of course not,” Roger said with a laugh. “To serve as chaperone.”

  “Ah! Chaperone. Of course. We’re in the nineteenth century, aren’t we?”

  “Is it not so in your time?”

  “Not where I come from, though I’m pretty sure there are other countries that still require chaperones for women.”

  “England perhaps?”

  “No, not generally.”

  They came to a stop at the gate, now standing open. Roger excused himself and shut the gate, and Rachel peered through the bars to look down the lane.

  “Do you think he’s all right?”

  “The viscount?” Roger asked. “He did not appear physically injured, though I must say I do not believe he has ever before experienced such an altercation. He seemed quite a novice.”

  “A novice? At fighting?”

  “St. John and I tousled frequently when we were young—all in good fun.”

  “Did Halwell grow up near here?”

  “Yes, he did. His grandfather, a crony of the earl’s own grandfather, used to bring young Halwell to the property to fish on occasion.”

  “So did he play with you and St. John?”

  “No, St. John was not always here but was away at school. The viscount attended a different school, and I attended yet another school. While St. John and I are close, the earl and the viscount are little more than strangers.”

  “Hmmm,” Rachel said. “So odd.”

  “At the risk of engaging in gossip, I will say that St. John’s parents were uninvolved in his care and did not enjoy country life. Halwell’s father does not enjoy country life as well and allowed Lady Georgianna free rein in raising her son. I believe he has many friends in London though.”

  Rachel grasped the gate bars and peered through, as if she could see Alton House.

  “I wonder why he doesn’t just go up to London to get away if he’s so heartbroken.”

  “One wonders,” Roger said. “Shall we return to the castle? No doubt breakfast awaits your return. Do you believe the earl and the countess have had sufficient time?”

  “I’m sure they have.” Rachel threw a last look over her shoulder, took Roger’s arm and turned back toward the castle.

  As Roger had predicted, Mary and St. John were sitting down to breakfast. Mrs. Green, who escorted them to the dining room, still looked a little distraught, but she didn’t say anything further. Rachel hadn’t been in the castle of an aristocrat before, but she thought she detected a heightened sense of alertness among the staff. Eyes that normally gazed at nothing watched them intently.

  St. John and Mary appeared oblivious to the staff’s rapt attention, but seemed locked in each other’s gaze, hands clasped as they sat at the table awaiting Rachel’s return.

  They looked up as Rachel and Roger entered the room, Mary with blooming cheeks and St. John with a bemused expression.

  “Oh, look at you two,” Rachel murmured, taking a seat. “I’m sorry I’m late. Everything okay?”

  Mary looked at St. John, then beamed. “Well, as you guessed, Rachel, it is too early to say for sure, but I think I’m going to have a baby.”

  Roger jumped up. “Many felicitations!” he said, bowing.

  St. John nodded and waved him back down to his seat.

  “A child,” St. John said. “We are so pleased.”

  Rachel fought back a rush of tears, tears of happiness for the couple.

  “Congratulations!” she said. She noted that the footmen, already wide eyed by the scandalous brawl that morning, glanced at each other at the news as they poured out tea and coffee.

  St. John saw them as well, and he dismissed them. “Thank you. That will be all.”

  They nodded and left the room, and St. John turned to Rachel.

  “I do not wish to revisit my actions this morning, but I must ensure that you are truly without injury, Rachel. I have not forgiven myself, nor am I likely to do so.”

  “I’m fine. Though I’ve seen women throwing themselves into a brawl in movies, I’ve never actually done it myself. That will be my last time.”

  “A brawl...” St. John murmured, ducking his head.

  “Movies?” Roger asked.

  That seemed to Rachel like a good opportunity to change the subject. She wished she hadn’t said anything to take away from Mary and St. John’s happiness.

  Just as Mary and Rachel finished explaining movies to Roger, a knock on the door brought a footman. He carried a silver tray holding a note, which he handed to St. John. St. John prepared to open it but stopped.

  “It is addressed to you, Rachel.”

  “Me?”

  “We can assume the identity of the author,” St. John said.

  “Hickstrom? Why wouldn’t she just pop in like she does?”

  “I think the note probably comes from Halwell.”

  “Halwell!” Rachel took the note and set it by her plate.

  “Don’t you want to open it?” Mary asked. “It might be important.”

  “I can’t imagine how it would be important to me. What I mean is...I didn’t choose this...thing with Halwell. We don’t have a particularly close relationship, so...” Rachel closed her mouth. She didn’t know what she was saying. She only knew she wanted to be alone when she read the note from Halwell.

  “I’ll read it later.”

  “Of course,” Roger said, ever the diplomat.

  Rachel threw him a grateful glance. The breakfast seemed to take forever after that, with the note staring her in the face, and when they finally finished, Rachel rose promptly.

  “I’ll come to your room with some dresses in a bit,” Mary said as they left the dining room. “I can see you jumped into your dress like I did this morning.”

  Rachel nodded. She had barely climbed out of bed when she heard the commotion and had indeed thrown her dress on haphazardly before running down the stairs.

  She returned to her room and sat down on the settee in front of the fireplace. She stared at the note for a while, admiring the careful yet graceful handwriting on the outside.

  Miss Rachel Lee

  She broke the wax and pulled open the thick sheet of notepaper, folding it flat.

  My dear Miss Lee

  How can I express my remorse at my abhorrent behavior this morning? I did not mean to harm you, and I cannot forgive myself, will not forgive myself.

  His words echoed those of St. John.

  Although there can be no excuse for my behavior, I would like to offer some form of explanation. I do not give you this information such that you should forgive me. I do not expect that.

  Miss Hickstrom paid me a visit very late last night in what could only be described as a cloak and dagger manner. As you witnessed earlier in the day, the lady feels compelled to offer un
solicited advice about my private affairs. She did so again last night, but in an even more brazen fashion.

  I cannot repeat everything she said to me, as it is too humiliating, but it seems as if she wished a curse upon me. Again, it is much too mortifying to repeat her words, but I was compelled to share my experience with someone who knows her. My intent in visiting Lady St. John this morning was to ascertain who this Miss Hickstrom truly is, for I know the two ladies have a close acquaintanceship, perhaps even a friendship. I hoped Lady St. John could shed light upon why Miss Hickstrom feels the need to interfere in my life.

  You know what happened, of course. I was not able to ask those questions of Lady St. John, and I doubt now that I ever will. I am no longer welcome at Alvord Castle, and I will not be able to attend the ball. I intend to remove myself to London, as I should have done some time ago.

  Please believe that I never meant to harm you. I hope you are well, and I wish you the best. I do not think we shall meet again, for I imagine you will return to America soon.

  Yours

  GH

  Tears ran down Rachel’s face, and she jumped up. If Halwell wanted to go to London, that was all well and good, and maybe he should so that he could get over Mary. But she had to find out what Hickstrom had told him. Had Hickstrom actually cursed him? Had she told him that he would never marry if he didn’t marry Rachel?

  No! Rachel had to fix that. She had to release him from the ridiculous curse that Hickstrom said was not really a curse but sounded a lot like a curse!

  Chapter Thirteen

  A tap on the door startled Rachel, and she called out. “Come in!”

  Mary maneuvered her way into the room with a handful of material. Sarah followed with a few more items, which she laid upon the bed.

  “Thank you, Sarah,” Mary said.

  The maid curtsied and left the room.

  Mary, laughing, dropped her load of clothing onto the bed and turned. She sobered when she saw Rachel’s teary face.

  “What is it? What did Halwell say? What is going on with that man?” Mary hurried to Rachel’s side.

  “It looks like Hickstrom paid him a midnight visit or something, and whatever she said—he wouldn’t exactly repeat other than to say he was humiliated—was enough to send him running over here to ask you about her. And we all know what happened there! I’m afraid she told him that if he doesn’t marry me, he will never marry, can never marry! Like she told us!”