The Reluctant Viscount

by Lara Temple

  His own memory of Mowbray had always been overlaid not just by his public shaming, but by the oppressive atmosphere of his parents’ home, caught between his mother’s ambitions and his father’s weary surrender to her will. He and his sisters, who had also suffered under their mother’s highly critical and often vindictive ambition, had been very fond of each other, but he had always preferred to avoid coming home from school when possible. Adam had spent many holidays with Nicholas’s family in Berkshire, which his mother had agreed to with the very thinly veiled hope that he would ingratiate himself with his friend’s highly respectable family. Now, with his mother in the far north and his sisters happily married, that aspect of Adam’s memory of Mowbray no longer existed. That, at least, had rendered the town a much more pleasant place than he’d recalled.

  In the three days since the Assembly, he had been surprised to receive a few judicious visits from the males amongst the local landowners. Although there had been no sudden embracing by local society, these visits indicated he was being assessed and his social fate considered. Against his better judgement he found there was something enjoyable about these tentative expeditions. Some were people he had known as a young man and once they spoke with him on an individual basis they were a great deal less judgemental than he had anticipated. If anything, they seemed rather envious of his travels and certainly appreciative of the contents of the restocked wine cellar.

  His visitors had also been useful in reporting, also rather enviously, on Ginnie’s progress. The consensus was that Percy was very close to closing the deal with the widow Eckley. They joked that even Percy’s debtors had relaxed their embargo sufficiently to allow him to acquire a few new items for his fashionable wardrobe. It seemed the tradesmen considered this generosity in the guise of an investment with a hope of return. Adam’s own valet had reported that Percy’s valet Libbet’s star, which had begun to wane since Adam’s return, was on the wax again. He almost felt bad about what was about to happen to Percy once Ginnie left Mowbray as she was scheduled to do the next day. Still, if Alyssa’s heiress was fool enough to take Percy once Ginnie had wrapped up her role, she was welcome to him, as far as Adam was concerned.

  Adam was only sorry Nicholas wasn’t there to poke fun at his temporary descent into respectability. Still, it would be over soon enough. In a few days he would finally be on his way back to London. Or perhaps someplace completely new, like Australia. He smiled as he remembered Alyssa’s comments about his supposed exploits in that country. Underneath her amusement she had sounded almost wistful. It seemed the carefully contained wild girl would not have minded some adventures of her own. It was almost a pity she was a gentleman’s daughter. He had a feeling that under other circumstances she would have made an excellent adventurer.

  Thunder nickered and raised his muzzle as if to breathe the air, and Adam tensed, focusing immediately on his surroundings.

  ‘What is it, boy?’ Adam asked. He told himself it was ridiculous, but he could not shake the occasional sensation of being watched, especially while riding or walking in the woods. He told himself it was absurd to feel he was missing something. It was just the tension of being back in Mowbray.

  Thunder shook his sooty mane and huffed and Adam relaxed as he saw Alyssa’s slim figure beyond the hedge that bordered the lane. She was carrying a small wicker basket, her brow contracted in an absent frown and her green eyes vivid in the sun that filtered through the trees. She was almost abreast of them when Adam nudged his top boots against Thunder’s flanks and they moved through the trees on to the lane. She gave a gasp and stopped abruptly, clasping her wicker basket to her in a childlike gesture of alarm.

  ‘I think one of Perrault’s tales dealt with this situation,’ Adam said mildly and the alarm on her face was replaced by laughter.

  ‘Puss in Boots?’ she enquired and he smiled appreciatively.

  ‘I was thinking of the wolf and the fair maiden in the forest.’

  ‘I see. Well, the gossips are definitely becoming frustrated by your good behaviour these past few days. Stalking village maids in the forest will stir things up nicely. Don’t let me get in the way. Hello, Thunder, you are looking much better today,’ she added as she moved around the large horse, just reaching up to rub his silky muzzle gently as she passed.

  Thunder nickered and stepped forward, brushing his muzzle against her shoulder, and she laughed.

  ‘You’re like a big dog, aren’t you?’

  Adam swung out of the saddle, running his hand down the stallion’s neck.

  ‘Thunder doesn’t appreciate being likened to a dog, do you, boy? He is much more discriminating than any canine I’ve met.’

  ‘And yet he seems fond of you…’

  ‘Very amusing. I have my good points. You just have to get to know me better.’

  Her elusive dimple made a brief appearance and Adam resisted the impulse to reach out and touch it.

  ‘You do know there is no one watching?’ she asked amicably. ‘This big-bad-wolf role is rather wasted without an audience, isn’t it?’

  ‘I consider it a dress rehearsal. Keeping my skills honed.’

  She shook her head and stroked Thunder’s flank gently and the horse lowered his head, delivering himself wholly to the pleasure of being petted. Adam watched as her fingers caressed the horse and his hand tightened on the reins. It was lucky she wasn’t taking him seriously. Otherwise he just might be tempted to carry through on his big-bad-wolf threat and show her just what she was missing by insisting on being such a proper Mowbray Miss.

  Standing so close to her reminded him how much he had enjoyed dancing with her. It wasn’t just that she had danced well or that he had enjoyed her quizzical responses to his flirtation. It was ridiculous that something as innocuous as his hand on her waist should have been so potent, but even now he could remember how it had felt to slide his hand upwards, to feel the warmth of her skin underneath her dress. He shifted uncomfortably as his body heated. It was a shame she was unlikely to be willing to carry this banter into a more satisfying flirtation. He was increasingly convinced all her rigid propriety hid a very passionate nature.

  ‘Well, I am glad to be of use,’ she continued lightly. ‘Is this dress rehearsal in aid of any particular grand production?’

  ‘Since I will be leaving Mowbray in a couple of days I have neglected to schedule anything, but I am quite happy to arrange a private show if you are interested.’

  She flushed, her bravado fading.

  ‘You are very lucky Thunder doesn’t understand what you are saying, Lord Delacort. He might be tempted to toss you on your back again. I certainly am.’

  ‘Are you? If you wish to get me on my back, you only have to ask. There is no need to enlist Thunder’s help.’ He watched appreciatively as her flush deepened despite her attempt at sophistication. He knew he shouldn’t push her like that, but each crack in her shell felt like an irresistible invitation to proceed.

  ‘I must be going. I don’t want to get in the way of your stalking. You might even find some willing prey, who knows?’ she said scornfully. She moved to go around them, but Thunder ambled forward, blocking their path and boxing Alyssa and Adam against the hedge.

  ‘How do you make him do that?’ Alyssa asked, exasperated.

  ‘I have nothing to do with it. Thunder has a mind of his own.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous… Here now, Thunder, move.’ She gave the enormous black horse a gentle shove, but he merely shifted closer and Adam caught her around the waist before she stumbled backwards into the hedge.

  ‘I told you.’ He laughed, resisting the urge to tighten his hold and pull her to him fully.

  ‘He must be very useful for you,’ she said, fuming, but she did not try to move away.

  ‘He is usually too fastidious to be of any use. You should be flattered.’

  Her green
eyes glinted up at him with the faintly mocking look he was becoming accustomed to, tempered only by her rebellious dimple. He gave in and reached up to touch it, just brushing his fingers over the elusive indentation and gently down the line of her jaw. The dimple vanished and as her lips parted he knew this was folly. They were standing in the middle of a public lane, for goodness’ sake. And whether she was old enough to know better, she was still merely an unmarried gentlewoman and a virgin, two species he resolutely avoided dallying with. It was stupid to contemplate crossing the line simply because his body decided she would feel very right against him.

  But his hand pulled her against him while his other slid against her cheek, into her hair, tilting her head. He forced himself to wait, pushing back at the tense hungry heat that swept through his body, magnifying the sensations radiating from every point of contact between them. It was mere seconds, counted out by the pulse under his palm where it rested on the side of her neck, but the time stretched out. The moment filled with images and sensations, of the contrast between the firm pressure of her hip bone and the soft flesh where his fingers rested, of the dip of her thick lashes as they lowered, obscuring the bright autumn colours of her eyes.

  When she didn’t react he gave in and lowered his head to hers, tension closing on his lungs as if he was preparing to cast himself off some height. His mouth had barely brushed over hers, feather-light, when he heard the clear sound of a vehicle coming down the lane. He breathed in and stepped away to pull Thunder aside just as a gig came into sight.

  Alyssa nodded to the driver and his wife, who were regarding them with unveiled curiosity. She was slightly flushed but otherwise showed no sign of unease.

  ‘Good morning, Mr Jeffries, Mrs Jeffries. How is Minnie?’

  ‘Very well, Miss Drake,’ Mrs Jeffries answered as the driver raised his cap in greeting. ‘Just a touch of quinsy, but Dr Hedgeway says she’s on the mend now.’

  ‘I’m glad…’

  She stopped and they all turned at the sound of another horse coming at a faster clip than was usual on such a narrow lane. Lord Moresby, astride one of his hunters, came into view, riding hard and recklessly. He pulled up at the sight of the gig and his large bay mare protested and tried to rear. His eyes swept over them and then settled on Adam with unmistakable enmity.

  ‘You! Been meaning to tell you…stay away from my wife!’ he slurred. He dismounted, stumbled slightly and had to lean against his horse, his face flushed above his high shirt points.

  ‘Go home, Lord Moresby,’ Alyssa said quietly. Mr Jeffries prodded his horse and the farmer’s gig moved on with agonising slowness, but Lord Moresby didn’t appear to even notice them.

  ‘Stay out of this, Miss Drake!’ he snapped at her and took a step towards Adam, his hand twisted around the reins of his mare. ‘And you…you villain…you think you can come back to finish what you failed to do before? She is my wife! Stay away from her!’

  Adam tensed, wondering how best to calm him down.

  ‘Moresby, I am going to say this only once, so listen well. I have absolutely no interest in your wife. There has been nothing between us nor will there be. I don’t even like her. Is that clear enough?’

  ‘I don’t believe you!’

  ‘That is your problem, then. Don’t blame me for whatever issues the two of you have. They are not of my making.’

  ‘No? No?’ Moresby took another step closer, his face hot and twisted with fury. ‘She said if she had married you she would have sired a son by now. Do you think I don’t know what she is planning? To have you foist a brat on me! Well, I’d sooner see her divorced! Is that what you are waiting for?’

  He took another step forward and Adam braced himself. He did not want to brawl with a drunken man and give the town more food for gossip, but it looked like the only thing that would get through to Lord Moresby at the moment was the logic of a fist. But suddenly Alyssa moved between them and to Adam’s shock she grasped the man’s arms above the elbows and gave him a small shake.

  ‘Lord Moresby. Arthur, look at me!’

  Lord Moresby’s hazy glance fixed on her, more in surprise at finding himself in the near embrace of a young woman than because of her words.

  ‘Arthur. This is what Rowena does. She is trying to play you just as she has done countless times in the past. And she will continue to do so because this is how she gets what she wants. You know her. If you insist on fighting, or on giving any credence to what she says, you are merely going to look the fool and play into her hands. Do you want that?’

  Adam watched as a range of emotions chased each other across the man’s florid face and felt a surge of pity for him. Lord Moresby raised one hand, palm upwards in a kind of supplication, his eyes on Alyssa’s.

  ‘Nothing I ever do is enough,’ he said, his voice husky. ‘I try… It’s never enough.’

  ‘It’s not you, Arthur,’ Alyssa replied gently. ‘She was always like this. From childhood. She is so beautiful, you see.’

  He nodded morosely. ‘She is, isn’t she? Beautiful. Prettiest in the county.’

  Alyssa nodded.

  ‘And you have two beautiful little girls who love you very much. Don’t forget that.’

  His eyes softened.

  ‘They do.’

  His gaze shifted to Adam. His mouth opened and closed, then he turned and went back to his horse, mounting her with some difficulty. He nodded curtly in Adam’s direction, then looked down at Alyssa.

  ‘You’re a good girl. Always were. Pity.’

  They watched as he rode off. Alyssa stood with her arms on her hips.

  ‘Good girl! As if I were a filly!’ she said, annoyed. ‘Not that I want to be like Rowena, but sometimes, just sometimes, I would like to make as much mischief and have none of it stick to me.’

  Adam smiled despite himself. He was still tense because of the lingering heat of what had occurred before the appearance of the farmer’s gig and from the near brush with violence. In contrast, Alyssa didn’t seem at all embarrassed, which was disorienting in itself. He had not expected to be more affected than she and that thought made him drag himself back into the present moment. This was Alyssa Drake, he told himself. She was a good person who was trying desperately to become something he had no real patience for. He should stay away from her. He shrugged.

  ‘I don’t know. From what I have seen, you usually succeed in getting your own way. I wouldn’t envy her if I were you.’

  She frowned at him, as if trying to search his words for hidden meaning.

  ‘You were very compassionate with him,’ he added stiltedly.

  She shrugged, looking down. ‘He is not a bad person. I have never seen him drunk before. It cannot be easy for him to have you back here. I feel sorry for him.’

  ‘So do I. There but for the grace of God—’

  He broke off as her eyes flashed up at him, startling him with the intensity of the anger in them.

  ‘Yes. You are lucky she was an expert manipulator even then. Otherwise her whole plan might have misfired and she would have been forced to marry you after all and you would have lost your excuse to do precisely as you please and be accountable to no one.’

  Adam felt a surge of answering anger. ‘You do like to lecture, don’t you? Between your accusations and Moresby’s I’m beginning to realise I am even more a degenerate specimen than I had previously considered. What a pity I can’t live up to the exacting standards you all adhere to in this little corner of perfection.’

  Alyssa half-raised her hand as if either to reach out to him or stop him, but he ignored her. He was vaguely conscious that his anger was out of proportion to her words, but this awareness was swamped by a wave of stinging bitterness.

  ‘It must be very nice to have someone like me to put in a pillory so that you can all feel clean and righteous while you hide a
ll your own petty deceits and duplicities. You’re right I am accountable to no one. I spent most of my life being responsible and that counted for precisely nothing the moment I stepped off the straight and narrow. I’ll be damned if I’m going to live my life on probation at the pleasure of hypocrites. Take a good look at yourself before you go throwing any more stones, Miss Drake.’

  He swung himself on to Thunder’s back and with a curt nod he cantered off.

  * * *

  Alyssa stood staring in shock at the horse and rider as they disappeared round the bend in the lane. Her heart was thudding uncomfortably and she felt ashamed and confused. Too much had happened in that short half hour. She could still feel the warmth of his hands on her, the heat of his body so close to hers and the knowledge that he was about to kiss her and that she desperately wanted him to, even knowing how little this meant to him. It was no good telling herself she didn’t take him seriously. His casual statement that he would be leaving in a couple of days had struck her like a blow. She was a fool, but she had no right to vent her pain and her disappointment in herself by attacking him.

  She would just have to stay away from him for those two days. She was not a foolish child any more. She might have allowed herself to enjoy his seductive flirtation, but she refused to fancy herself in love with him again. They spoke different languages and it was ridiculous to believe he might come to understand hers. Her father had taught her well that to live in expectation that people would change only led to pain and disillusionment.

  Now she decided on her own universe, and if it was small, then at least it was safe and of her own making. And when she did decide to leave the safety of Drake Cottage as she knew she must do soon, it would be on her own terms and not at the mercy of people who were only concerned with their own needs and pleasures.

  She turned and continued walking towards home, forcing her thoughts back to where they had been before Adam had startled her. With Mary’s departure arranged for tomorrow morning she was now responsible for no one but herself. And her father, of course, but he didn’t count. She wondered at the strength of her conviction. She had always taken care of her father in a way, even before her sweet but rather timid mother had died, but with neither affection nor a real sense of commitment. She had done so because he was her family’s only source of income and out of sheer habit. But now that everyone else had left she could get up and leave and not look back. She did not even need to wait for the answer from London she was hoping for. If Burnley wasn’t interested in her current project, she would find someone else.