The Viscount's Salvation (Honorable Rogue Book 3)

by Vikki Vaught

  He met her halfway and pulled her into his arms. She burst into tears. “Shhh, I’m here, Aunt. I’m so sorry about Basil.”

  She sobbed against his shoulder. “H-he died w-while riding in a hunt. H-he fell while jumping a fence and broke his neck. Then your uncle had…had an apoplexy shortly after we received the devastating news. We had received a letter from Anissa the day before, telling us the joyous news of your miraculous return. I-I’m so relieved y-you are here.” Another sob escaped her and Cortland patted her back.

  “C-Cortland? Is t-that you, m-my boy?” His uncle’s weak voice came out in between short, broken gasps of air. Evidently only one side of his face could move. There was no doubt…his uncle would not be among the living much longer. It tore a hole in his already battered soul.

  By this time, his aunt had recovered some of her composure, and he released her. He moved beside his uncle’s bed and took one of his thin, frail hands in his. “’tis I, sir.”

  “B-Basil,” he choked out. “He…he.” His uncle slumped against his pillows, his eyes now shut.

  “I know, Uncle,” he said, his voice husky from the emotions rushing through him. “We will all sorely miss him.”

  His eyes opened again, and a spark of bright blue looked straight at him. Panicked eyes. “T-take c-care of Mar…Marjorie.”

  “Of course, sir.” He swallowed the knot in his throat. “Just try to rest, Uncle. I’m here now, and I’ll look after everything—”

  His uncle gasped for air one last time, and then he breathed no more.

  Cortland bowed his head to cover his anguish. He must remain strong. His aunt would need him to be there for her. He’d promised. He heard her wails behind him, and he gathered her to him, trying to offer comfort. She cried until she had no more tears and slumped against him. He looked up and met the valet’s gaze. “Send for Lady Hardesty’s maid. She has need of her.”

  “Right away, my lord.”

  Good Lord!

  I am now Viscount Hardesty.

  No time to worry over that now.

  He would deal with that alarming news later.

  Once he took care of everything.

  The man rang the bell and soon the maid arrived. Together, they took his aunt to her bedchamber, and he returned to his uncle’s room. The faithful valet stood beside his uncle’s bed, head bowed. Larken had served the viscount for many years. The man had barely had whiskers back then.

  Cortland ran his hand across his eyes, wiping at one lone tear that had escaped. “I shall go find Lord Hardesty’s secretary while you prepare my uncle.”

  Larken nodded, and Cortland turned and left the room.

  Once he made it downstairs, he had the butler send word to Mary, letting her know his uncle had passed. Then he went to his study and found his secretary, Collins, bent over the desk writing. He coughed and the man looked up. “Have you heard?”

  Collins met his gaze. The young man’s eyes were filled with sorrow. “Wallis just told me.” His voice cracked. “In the time I have served his lordship, I grew to greatly admire him. Please accept my condolences for Lady Hardesty, and for you as well, my lord.”

  There was that “my lord” again. Would he ever get used to it? This was something he’d never thought of, nor wanted. “Thank you. I need you to contact the vicar and undertaker. And, send notices to the London papers. Did my uncle make his wishes known in the event of his death?”

  “Last night, he told me he wanted minimal fuss. He didn’t want a long, drawn-out affair, only family,” he stated. He paused, then added, “I would like to offer you my services as your secretary. Now that you will be the new Viscount Hardesty…it would be a pleasure to serve you, my lord.”

  This was almost too much to take in. In the batting of the eye, he went from a mere mister to a peer of the realm. He prayed he would be up to the task. “I’m sure my uncle thought highly of you. I would appreciate it if you stayed on. At least until we have a chance to see if we work well together. If after three months we find that it is not working, then we’ll address it again.”

  “Very good, sir. I shall leave you while I take care of the things you have requested.” He bowed, then moved toward the door.

  Cortland stopped him. “Wait. When did my cousin meet his end?”

  Collins turned around. “He passed five days ago.”

  “And, my uncle? When did he fall ill?”

  “The day after your cousin’s funeral,” he replied. “We were in here, when he slumped over. That was two days ago. We sent for the doctor, and that is when we found out he’d had an apoplexy. I think his son’s death broke him. The only glimmer of life I saw in him was the day when he received the news that you had returned. That’s when he had me write the message asking you to come.”

  After the door closed behind Collins, he walked around the desk and dropped into the chair. A ton of bricks weighed his shoulders down. Whether he wanted it or not, he had to take up the reins of the viscountcy.

  Rubbing his hand down his face, he slumped in the chair. His life…would never be the same again.

  ****

  After Cortland left, Mary found Mrs. Clifford, and they discussed the household. The kind woman showed her Cook’s menus for the next day. She approved them, only adding a lemon tart to the dinner. Once her meeting with the housekeeper ended, she wandered through the rooms on the main floor.

  The library impressed her. Obviously, someone had loved fiction. She found copies of many of her favorite books. She loved the large mullioned window that look out over the garden at the back of the house. Two large overstuffed chairs sat on each side of it, which would make them perfect for reading, since good light would come through the window.

  Running her hands along a row of books, she breathed in the scent of leather and paper. She pulled out a volume and took a seat in one of the chairs. Soon she was lost in the story and forgot the time until someone knocked.

  She bade them enter and Giles walked in. “A footman has just arrived from Wallingford Manor, ma’am. He says he has an urgent message for you.”

  “Please send him in,” she stated. Perhaps Cortland wanted her to come. She prayed his uncle was doing better. The butler returned with the same footman who had brought the earlier news. “You needed to see me?”

  The young man bowed and handed her a written note. She quickly read it and gasped. The servant said, “I am sorry to be the bearer of this news, ma’am.”

  Oh, no, not his uncle too.

  Good Lord, Cortland is now the viscount.

  I’m a viscountess.

  She quaked in her shoes. This was not something she had ever desired. But, she had accepted that she would be Cortland’s helpmate, so she would have to meet this new responsibility as well. After all, she had been trained to be the wife of a peer.

  She straightened her shoulders. “Please wait while I write to his lordship.” She went to the desk and jotted down a short message, letting Cortland know she would await his instructions, but that if he needed her, she would come immediately. Once she finished her note she handed it to the young man. “I’m sorry you had the task of bringing me this sad news. Thank you in advance for delivering my missive.”

  “Certainly, my lady.” The young man bowed and left with Giles, leaving her alone. She returned to her seat. His aunt was probably devastated. Not only had she lost her son, she had now lost her husband as well. Poor woman. From what Cortland had told her, his aunt had been devoted to his uncle.

  Since it was the noon hour, she went into the small dining room. Once she had picked at her food until she ate something, she returned to the library. She tried to return to her book, but her mind would not settle, too concerned over how Lord Hardesty’s passing would change their lives. She called for her cloak and took a walk in the garden. It would be lovely come spring, she was sure. It was much better maintained than she would have expected, considering the fact that Cortland had been gone for such a long time.

  The sky clouded u
p and rain threatened, so she made her way back to the house, entering just as she felt the first drops. Since it was almost three, she went up to the schoolroom to have tea with Aimee.

  When she entered, the little girl ran to her and stopped. “Is Mr. Wallingford coming too?” Her eager face was bright with anticipation.

  Mary wrapped her arm around the child’s slight shoulders. “He sends his regrets. Something has happened that made it impossible for him to come today.”

  Aimee’s face fell, disappointment etched on it. Then she brightened again. “I’m pleased you could come, Madame. Please join me at my table. I want you to meet my dolls.”

  Smiling, Mary nodded and let the little girl pull her over to a small chair. She carefully perched on one while Aimee pretended to pour her a cup of tea. The child chattered on about her dolls, introducing each of them to her.

  Gerrard sat on the window seat staring outside, but glancing their way when he did not think anyone was looking. The lad was always so self-contained. She hoped that when Cortland hired him a tutor, Gerrard would relax a bit and enjoy life. He was entirely too serious for a child of twelve. He should be riding and clamoring to be outside.

  She would ask Cortland if he could give Gerrard a dog. Her brothers had loved their beagle with its floppy ears. An animal would be a good companion. Perhaps there would be other boys his age in the village. When she met the vicar’s wife on Sunday, she would ask her.

  After spending an hour with the children, she returned to her room to rest before dinner. She hoped Cortland would be able to join her. She was anxious to hear about his uncle and offer to help him with arrangements.

  As she gazed at the fire, she grew apprehensive. When would her father’s man find her? She had no doubt, the man would, and soon. She just prayed Cortland would be there when the man showed up.

  There was a knock on the door and she bade them enter. Giles walked in and bowed. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but a Bow Street runner has arrived. He insists he needs to speak to you immediately, my lady.”

  Oh, dear Lord, my father has found me!

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Oxfordshire

  November 1803

  Mary froze. What should she do? There was no way she wanted to face a Bow Street runner without her husband at her side. “Did the man ask for me by name?”

  “He did, ma’am,” the butler replied. “I told him I would see if you were available. Should I have denied your presence?”

  Why had they not told Giles to keep her arrival a secret? Now what should she do? She had to stall for time. “Tell him I’m not at home. That our household is in mourning, and to return next week.”

  “As you wish,” he told her. “I’m not sure he will leave, but I will try. The man is most insistent.”

  She twisted her hands. “If he balks, tell him Lord Hardesty will see him on the morrow when he returns. Under no circumstances are you to let him stay. If you have to, get the footman to help you escort him off the estate.”

  Giles looked daunted, but then he straightened, his jaw set. “Certainly, ma’am. Do you want me to send for his lordship once the runner leaves?”

  Dare she trouble Cortland now or wait until he returned that evening? No, her husband would want to know. “Yes, send Thomas to Wallingford Manor. I shall have a note ready when you return.”

  Giles bowed and left her. Once the door closed, she dropped in one of the plush chairs by the hearth. Panic crawled up her neck, her hands shook violently. She clasped them together and prayed. “Please, Lord. Give me the strength to not give into my fear. Keep me strong until Cortland returns.”

  Once she gained her composure enough that her hands could hold a pen, she went to her desk and pulled out a piece of foolscap, picked up a quill, then dipped it in the inkpot.

  Dear Cortland,

  I hate to trouble you right now, but a Bow Street runner has arrived. I have sent him away and asked that he not return for a week. However, he was very insistent. I believe that tomorrow morning will be the longest I can delay seeing him. Please try to come home tonight. Or, if that is not possible, could I come to you? I anxiously await your instructions.

  Mary

  When Giles returned, he told her he had persuaded the runner to leave, but that he stated he would return in the morning. She gave him the letter she had written, and he left her, saying he would have Thomas deliver it right away.

  Once the butler left the room, she rang for Ella. It was nearing six o’clock and time to dress for dinner. She continued to pray that Cortland would come home as soon as he received her message.

  Her maid arrived, and she donned one of the gowns Kathleen had gotten for her. All she could do now was wait until she heard from her husband, or he returned. Once she was dressed, she sent her worried maid away and started pacing back and forth, too overwrought to sit. When the clock chimed seven times, she made her way to the drawing room, hoping her husband would be there before too long.

  When she entered, she took a seat on the settee and picked up her needlework, praying that keeping her hands busy would calm her frazzled nerves. Just when she was ready to give up, Cortland rushed into the room and swept her into his arms. “I got here as fast as I could. I’m so sorry you had to go through this without me.”

  Just having his arms around her helped. Her racing heart slowed as she rested her head against his shoulder. “I’m just sorry I had to take you away from your aunt. I’m sure she needs you with her.”

  “Aunt Marjorie has taken to her bed,” he replied. “Her maid gave her some laudanum, so she should not awaken again tonight. I must be there for her when she gets up in the morning, though. Have Ella pack a few days’ worth of clothing. We will go to Wallingford Manor after we have dinner. I shall have more men at the ready there than I will have here.”

  “Whatever you think is best.” After she rang for her maid, they took a seat while they waited for her to arrive. “I’m so sorry you lost your uncle. Were you able to talk to him before he passed?”

  She saw the pain flit across his face as he told her, “He died shortly after I arrived, and we did speak, but only briefly…enough time for him to ask me to take care of my aunt. Then…he was gone.”

  How hard this must be, to lose his uncle so soon after learning of his cousin’s death. “Death is so cruel. Did your uncle suffer from ill health?”

  “Not at all. He was always a robust man, never prone to illness,” he explained. “My cousin’s death greatly affected him. He suffered an apoplexy shortly after Basil’s accident.”

  “Oh, no,” she murmured. “How did your cousin die?”

  His eyes burned suspiciously bright, and he blinked several times. Obviously he struggled to remain composed. “He fell from his horse during a hunt and broke his neck.”

  She touched his arm. “I’m so sorry. You told me how close you were in your youth. I can only imagine how hard this must be for you and your aunt. I will pray for both of you and for the souls of your loved ones.”

  A tap at the door alerted them to her maid’s presence. Cortland called her inside, and Ella curtsied after she entered. Mary quickly explained what she needed, and the maid scurried from the room to do her bidding. Once that was out of the way, Cortland sent Thomas upstairs to pack for him as well.

  Giles entered and announced dinner. Since Cortland wanted them to depart shortly, they hurried their meal, and in under an hour, they were in the carriage driving toward Wallingford Manor. On the drive over, they discussed the funeral arrangements for his uncle. By the time they arrived at the manor, Cortland had explained what would happen and when. The vehicle pulled to a halt, and he helped her out and into the house.

  In a matter of minutes, Mary was upstairs in one of the guest bedchambers and a maid helped her dress for bed. Before the young girl left, she ran hot bricks over the sheets. Once she was alone, she glanced around the spacious room, taking in the high sheen of the deep mahogany four-poster bed, and the pale gold canopy and cu
rtains tied to the posts. The matching goose down coverlet on the bed would certainly help her stay warm.

  Since Cortland had told her to not wait up for him, she crawled between the sheets and snuggled against the pillows. She sighed deeply. Not only had Cortland lost his beloved uncle, he had inherited his title and all the responsibilities that went along with it. She was now a viscountess. Her life was now forever changed.

  Yawning, she closed her eyes. Tomorrow would come soon enough, and she would worry over what her role would be then.

  ****

  Cortland spent the next day going over reports with his uncle’s steward. From what he could tell so far, he was not impressed. In fact, he did not trust the man. While the home farms showed a small profit, it was not nearly as much as he would have expected for this size property. Even taking into account the dry summer last year that Mr. Blakely had used as the excuse for the rents being down, it should have been more, a lot more, in his estimation.

  Many of the expenditures seemed quite excessive, especially considering the lack of money coming in. The ledger for last year showed a hefty sum spent on a new roof for the barn. From his brief ride that morning, the outbuildings looked like they still needed extensive repairs, including the barn. How could a roof already need replacing again, only one year later?

  Once his uncle’s funeral was behind them, he planned to have Mr. Adams look over the accounts, and he would ask him to ride with him when he inspected the tenant farms the day after tomorrow.

  While he did not want to offend Blakely, he could not let that stand in the way, if indeed the man was manipulating the figures. He needed to exert discretion while looking into the matter. He did not want to alert him to the fact that he suspected him of embezzlement. Perhaps he would tell the man he wanted to explore on his own and have his steward meet him at the pond that separated his property from Wallingford Manor.

  Slumping against the back of the chair, he rubbed his hands across his face, frustrated already, and he had only been the viscount for one day. He had never expected to be responsible for such a large estate. It was four times larger than his, and his was considered a moderate-sized property. Worrying over this today would not serve any useful purpose. Tomorrow, after the funeral was over, would have to do.