Her Notorious Viscount

by Jenna Petersen

  Jane’s lips parted in surprise. Were her feelings so clear to this woman? She moved forward.

  “My lady, I know Nicholas must marry someone of more elevated status than my own. When he does, it will ensure his position in Society and make people forget his past. I don’t want you to think that I would ever endanger that for him, no matter my own feelings.”

  Lady Bledsoe reached out and caught her hand in a tight squeeze. The sudden passion in the other woman’s eyes was so shocking that Jane could not react, only stare.

  “I know better than most that life is very short, Jane. All I ever wanted for my sons was happiness. Anthony had his with Lucinda, who he loved with all his heart. I would not be so unfair as to ask my other son to accept less. Why do you think I helped introduce you back into Society? Did you really think it was only as repayment for what you’d done for Nicholas?” She shook her head. “It wasn’t. You did well tonight. A few more nights like this and a marriage to you would not hurt my son in the least. And if anyone had anything to say about it, they could contend with me.”

  Jane realized she had been holding her breath and let it all out in a loud exhalation that echoed in the silent hall around them. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come. This all had to be a dream, didn’t it? Lady Bledsoe wanted her to marry Nicholas?

  Suddenly Lady Ridgefield was at her elbow, patting her arm with clumsy affection.

  “Ah, Lady Bledsoe, I’m so glad you have found us. Dear Jane has a touch of headache and I am going to take her home. But I think our night was a great success, don’t you?”

  Lady Bledsoe held Jane’s gaze evenly. “A great success, indeed. Jane, I hope you will think of all I’ve said. Good evening, my dear, Lady Ridgefield.”

  With a nod, the other woman turned away. And all Jane could do was stare after her.

  “I’m going to marry Jane.”

  Rage choked on his drink, the liquid nearly propelling across the room as Nicholas’s friend stared at him. “I beg your pardon?”

  Nicholas nodded. “You know what happened tonight.”

  Rage shrugged. Nicholas had been telling him the entire story for the hour he’d been home.

  “You said it yourself that since I must marry, I might as well marry someone I actually like. Someone I desire.”

  “It couldn’t hurt,” Rage said with a chuckle. “But what happened to marrying someone of higher rank in order to garner more acceptance from Society?”

  Nicholas hesitated. That had been the original plan, but now it seemed untenable. Jane’s passionate defense of him tonight had been a stark reminder that he couldn’t truly live his brother’s life. He had to find some way to remain true to himself even while he continued to honor Anthony.

  Jane seemed a damn fine beginning.

  “Society can rot,” he growled, eliciting a grin from Rage. “I’ll play by some of their rules, but I won’t be miserable for them. Besides, when I marry Jane I may not elevate her status, but I can give her a great deal.” He pictured the way she had lit up in her beautiful gown. “She deserves to wear pretty clothes like she did tonight. To be able to look any of those biddies in the eye without shame.”

  “It sounds like you have it all worked out,” Rage said with a sip of his drink.

  Nicholas frowned. His friend sounded a bit…sarcastic.

  “You’re the one who first suggested this, but now you don’t seem to approve. Do you not like Jane?”

  “On the contrary, I like her a great deal,” Rage said, but offered no further explanation for his cryptic remark. “So when do you intend to ask for her hand?”

  Nicholas shrugged. “I want her to have more time out in Society before I do so. My mother is working hard so that everyone will forget that she was forced to become a paid companion. If I allow Jane to become more accepted, it’s far less likely anyone will say anything impertinent about her later. A few weeks, perhaps.”

  Rage tilted his head. There was question in his friend’s stare, but before he could voice it, the parlor door opened and Gladwell stepped inside.

  “I beg your pardon, my lord, but you have a guest.”

  “Jane?” Nicholas found himself saying as he stepped forward in anticipation. He missed their stolen nights together. Even more after tonight’s passionate encounter.

  “No. It is Viscount Patrick Fenton, my lord, and he is quite insistent that he see you right away, despite the late hour.” Gladwell gave a sniff of disapproval that demonstrated just how insistent Jane’s cousin must have been.

  Nicholas set his drink down with a loud, heavy clunk and stared at the butler.

  “Patrick Fenton has the audacity to come here?” he said in disbelief.

  Of course the man could have no idea of Nicholas’s hatred of him. This man had been the cause of Jane’s grief in so many ways. And he had dared put his hands on her. Which made Nicholas want to tear him apart piece by piece. Slowly.

  “Send him in,” he said, low and harsh.

  As the butler went to fetch his uninvited guest, Rage turned on him. “Hold on, mate. You can’t kill the man. They’ll put you away.”

  “I’m not going to kill him,” Nicholas said with great difficulty. “At least, that isn’t my intention. In fact, I’m very interested in what he has to say.”

  “Viscount Patrick Fenton, my lord,” Gladwell announced before he stepped back and allowed the gentleman to enter.

  Nicholas had never seen Fenton before and was surprised by his appearance. He’d imagined some wrinkled old man, rubbing his hands together like a villain from a gothic story. The person who stood before him was far younger than Nicholas had pictured. In fact, they were likely of an age. And Fenton didn’t look nefarious, but young and handsome, rather like Jane’s brother. They shared the same dark hair. The same sharp green eyes.

  “What can I do for you, Lord Fenton?” he asked, cold even though his rage was boiling hot below the surface.

  “Good evening, Lord Stoneworth. Thank you for seeing me despite the late hour. I realize you did not expect me, but I would like to speak to you alone.” The other man looked at him, then glanced pointedly at Rage. “We have business of a very private nature.”

  Rage cocked an eyebrow in Nicholas’s direction. It was a look that asked Nicholas what he wanted. He nodded toward the door silently, and his friend left without a word.

  Once they were alone, Nicholas leaned back against the desk, folded his arms, and glared at Fenton. “Why don’t we dispense with pleasantries and you just tell me what the hell you want?”

  “I had no doubt that Jane told you of all my horrible deeds,” Fenton said with a sad laugh. “I assume that is part of how she obtained your assistance.”

  Nicholas straightened up. It seemed Fenton knew a great deal, but Nicholas had no intention of verifying any of his guesses.

  “I don’t know what you’re going on about.”

  Fenton arched a brow. “Let’s not play silly games, my lord. I’m not the kind of man who delights in them, and I somehow doubt you are, either. I know that you have been assisting my cousin Jane on her endless search for her brother. When she came to my home earlier this week, she mentioned someone was helping her.”

  Nicholas’s eyes went wide. Jane had told him she said something to upset Patrick, but she hadn’t confessed that. It seemed her temper had gotten the best of her and loosened her tongue.

  “When I saw the two of you together tonight at your mother’s ball, it didn’t take much to put the pieces together,” Fenton continued. “After all, you do have connections in the underground.”

  Nicholas couldn’t help but be impressed. The man was intelligent, that was certain. That didn’t mean Nicholas liked him.

  “When you refer to earlier in the week, do you mean the day you accosted her?” Nicholas asked mildly, although the idea of this bastard putting a mere finger on Jane inspired his rage.

  To his surprise, Fenton’s chin dropped and his cheeks brightened with high color
. “I will admit, I lost my temper. I did grab Jane’s arms. I frightened her and I hate myself for that. But you must understand, Stoneworth, I have been forced to endure her contempt, her hatred, her tirades, for nearly a year now. When she implied I might have had a hand in her brother’s disappearance…” He frowned, and a flash of frustrated anger lit up his expression. “Well, that was the last straw.”

  Nicholas moved so swiftly that he was in front of Fenton before the man had a chance to react. He took pleasure in how his eyes widened in fear and surprise.

  “You had no right to touch her,” he growled. “And if you ever repeat that mistake, I will make you wish you had never been born, the consequences be damned.”

  There was a long moment of silence that hung heavy in the air between them, and then Fenton nodded.

  “I understand you perfectly, Stoneworth.”

  Nicholas raised his hands to demonstrate he had no intention of doing so tonight and backed away a few steps.

  This man was confusing. Jane had described him in such terrible terms, and yet the person standing before him was very calm, even in the face of threats. He was afraid, which was sensible considering Nicholas’s reputation. But he was also composed. He didn’t back away or cower.

  In short, Nicholas couldn’t read him. Which was an uncommon occurrence.

  “What do you want, Fenton?” he asked.

  “First, I came here because I sensed…” Fenton cleared his throat. “Something between you and my cousin. As her only living relative, I must tell you that I will not allow her to be compromised.”

  “I intend to marry her,” Nicholas bit out, short.

  Fenton’s eyes widened ever so slightly, and before he could cover the emotion, a flash of regret passed over his handsome features.

  “I see,” he finally said.

  And so did Nicholas. This man was in love with Jane. She didn’t know it, but he saw it as clearly as if Patrick had written it across the walls in bright red paint.

  Patrick straightened his shoulders, and all his emotions were gone as if they had never existed. Nicholas had a grudging respect for his ability to do that.

  “If that is your intent, then it is even more imperative that you know what I have come here to share.”

  “And what is that?” Nicholas asked, folding his arms.

  Patrick reached into his inside coat pocket and withdrew a packet of folded paper, bound with a red ribbon. Nicholas’s name had been printed neatly on the outside of the bundle.

  “This is the proof that Jane has been searching for so desperately,” her cousin said matter-of-factly.

  Nicholas wrinkled his brow in confusion, but he took the package. As he carefully opened the sheets, Patrick paced away.

  “As much as it pains me to say it, Marcus Fenton is dead.” The other man stopped at the window and looked outside at the inky black night. “He died over a year ago, probably in an opium den, though we will never know for certain. When Jane’s father got the proof from the letter you have there, he fell into a sadness and illness that killed him. But even in his devastated state, he made me promise I wouldn’t tell Jane. He feared she could not bear it after all the other loss and pain in her life.”

  Nicholas’s eyes narrowed. “You and her father thought very little of her, then. She is stronger than you imagine.”

  The other man turned slowly and looked Nicholas up and down. “Perhaps that is true. I did argue with her father that I could not hide the truth from her forever. But my uncle Samuel was always stubborn.” He smiled, and his affection for the man he spoke of was as clear as his frustration had been. “He insisted I wait until she was calm. Until she was ready to hear the truth. As you know, that moment has yet to come. She has fully convinced herself that I employed trickery to have Marcus declared dead, when in reality it was the second letter in the bundle there that convinced the courts.”

  Nicholas turned to the second sheet. “This is from her father, a declaration of his son’s death and confirmation that you are the true heir.”

  Patrick nodded slowly.

  “But these letters speak of proof. Of a ring.” Nicholas held up the sheets.

  Patrick dug into his pocket and withdrew a signet ring. He held it out and Nicholas took it, examining the shining gold carefully. An ornate “F” decorated the front.

  “That was my cousin’s. It was a family heir-loom. Even in his darkest hour, Marcus did not sell it. Jane doesn’t know this, but my uncle was in contact with him before his death. He saw Marcus about a month before he vanished permanently and he had it still. Someone stripped it from his body, and the investigator who uncovered the truth somehow found it in the trade shops and paid a pretty penny to return it. When he brought it to my uncle, dried blood still stained it.”

  Nicholas shut his eyes. These letters, the ring her brother had protected even in his most mad state, coupled with the information Nicholas had garnered from the poor, crazed man in the hells would surely be enough to prove the truth for Jane.

  “And why did you bring these things to me?” Nicholas asked, his tone flat as he held the items out to Patrick.

  The other man shook his head in refusal. “For so long, I have tried to allow my cousin to forgive me. I allowed her to leave my protection even when I could have forced her to stay. I helped arrange for her to be hired by Lady Ridgefield.”

  Nicholas’s eyebrows went up in surprise.

  “Oh yes. If you do not believe me, ask the lady herself. She was in no need for a companion until I asked her to grant me the favor. She grew to love and depend upon Jane, but she never would have sought her out.”

  “If you cared for Jane so much, why did you not allow her to remove her father’s letters?” Nicholas asked, remembering how much pain had been in Jane’s voice when she spoke of those precious items.

  Patrick sighed heavily. “If she was not forced to return to her father’s home to go over his papers and effects, she never would have come at all. It was the only way I could keep watch over her. To see for myself that she was well and not in need of anything. If you do, indeed, marry her, I will happily turn over any and all papers to you. They are her legacy, along with a healthy sum of money she has always refused. I would be happy to offer that to you as her dowry, if you will agree to make sure she receives it.”

  Fenton ran a hand through his hair restlessly. “You asked me why I brought you this proof tonight. It is because I have finally accepted that Jane will never see me as anything but a villain who stole what was rightfully Marcus’s. Someone who is plotting against her at every turn. She will never reach a point where she will believe any evidence I present to her. But she seems to trust you. Perhaps more than just trust, judging from her smile with you tonight.”

  Patrick turned away, but not before Nicholas saw his sour frown. “It is not an expression I have seen in a very long time. So perhaps, if the word comes from you, she will believe the truth. That Marcus is gone.”

  Nicholas stared at the papers in his hands and then looked at Patrick. “Can I verify these things are true?”

  The other man nodded. “I will put you in touch with the barrister who witnessed her father’s signature on that letter. And the investigator he used will happily provide you with more details on what he found.”

  Nicholas turned away. He would follow up on Patrick’s proof, of course, but he had always trusted his gut. And it was telling him that this man wasn’t lying. About any of it.

  “This will break Jane’s heart. Her spirit. Her hope for her brother is all she has left,” he murmured, more to himself than anything else.

  Fenton cleared his throat, a raw sound that drew Nicholas’s attention. The other man looked as sick as he felt. If they had nothing else in common, they shared a distaste for bringing Jane pain.

  “I know it will,” Fenton said softly. “That was part of why I allowed this charade to go on for so long. But I’ve always thought that keeping her hopes alive indefinitely, making her watch and
wait forever for a brother who will never come home…was a greater cruelty. But I leave it to you to decide what is best. And since it is so late and you did not invite me here, I will take my leave.”

  Shoulders slumped, Patrick Fenton began to make his way to the door.

  “Wait,” Nicholas called out, moving toward him.

  Jane’s cousin stopped, turning back with wariness in his eyes. But the wariness faded when Nicholas held out his hand wordlessly. As they shook, a world of understanding went between them. Nicholas could certainly appreciate how difficult keeping this secret had been for Fenton.

  Once the other man had gone, he sat down to read and reread the letters. When the door opened a short time later and Rage entered the room, he quietly folded them and put them away.

  “What did he want?” his friend asked.

  Nicholas glanced up at Rage. He would share any of his own secrets with this man. They were as close as brothers, Nicholas could trust him with his very life. But this secret wasn’t his. It was Jane’s. And she would be the first person he told, not someone who was a veritable stranger to her.

  “Nothing of consequence,” he lied. “Just wanted to make certain I wasn’t ruining his cousin.”

  Rage laughed. “And what did you tell him?”

  “That I intend to make her my wife,” he said.

  Rage nodded. They spoke for a few moments more, and then his friend departed.

  When he was alone, Nicholas withdrew the ring from his pocket once more. It wasn’t heavy, but it felt like a huge weight in his palm. A burden Patrick Fenton had passed on to him.

  The burden of breaking Jane’s heart.

  How in God’s name was he going to do it?

  For so long, she had kept herself from happiness out of some misguided loyalty to her brother. As if punishing herself would bring him home. Or that being happy would prevent him from being found.

  But tonight…Tonight she had been in high spirits. He’d seen it as she found acceptance from her former friends and peers. He’d watched it in the way she held herself in that beautiful gown.

  The moment he told her the truth, all that happiness would vanish, and it wouldn’t return for a long time. She would mourn Marcus, just as he had mourned Anthony, for many months to come. A piece of her would never be the same.