The Reluctant Viscount

by Lara Temple

  ‘Me? I hardly think Rowena wishes to speak with me, Cousin Harriet.’

  Lady Nesbit’s eyes fixed on Alyssa shrewdly.

  ‘You do not know her as well as you think, Alyssa. She might make game of you, but that is because she has never succeeded in managing you. And that is why she trusts you. She may listen to you. I am asking you. Please. She is making herself ill.’

  The old woman’s voice wavered on these last words and her eyes fell. Without thinking, Alyssa dragged her chair next to the armchair and picked up one of the papery hands clenched about the head of the cane. They sat in silence for a moment.

  ‘I will go with you now, if you like?’

  Lady Nesbit nodded briefly and pushed herself to her feet, leaning heavily on her cane.

  * * *

  They did not speak on the short drive to Moresby Manor and, aside from ascertaining that Rowena was still in Lord Moresby’s room, Lady Nesbit did not say a word as Alyssa left her at the foot of the stairs and headed up towards the bedchambers in the east wing.

  Lord Moresby’s valet was seated in a chair outside the room and stood up as Alyssa ascended the stairs.

  ‘I am here to see Lady Moresby,’ she explained and the valet nodded with something like relief.

  ‘Of course, Miss Drake, she is inside. If you please?’

  He opened the door and she entered. It was like walking into a painting. The room was quite bright; the curtains had been drawn back and sunlight was pouring in, creating stark contrasts of light and shadows. Lord Moresby was lying on his back, his tall frame diminished and pale. He looked more like an effigy than a live person, nothing like the stocky, ruddy-faced man she was used to. Rowena was seated upright on the other side of the bed, as white as her dress aside from her vivid blue eyes, which stared vacantly ahead of her. She did not acknowledge Alyssa’s entrance.

  Alyssa drew up a chair beside her and picked up one unresisting hand. It was very cold and dry and Alyssa rubbed it absently, trying to think of what to say. Rowena continued to stare ahead, but after a moment her hand twitched in Alyssa’s and an almost furtive look entered her eyes.

  ‘I think he is dead,’ she whispered.

  ‘No, Rowena. Dr Hedgeway says he has a good chance of recovering.’

  ‘No. They are saying that to make me leave the room. But I won’t. I won’t let them take him.’

  Alyssa continued rubbing the delicate, frozen hand between hers. She felt rough and unworthy suddenly. She had never credited Rowena with any real feelings. Lady Nesbit was right. Alyssa did not really know her older cousin. She had allowed her own jealousy and insecurity to colour her view of this woman. She might be selfish and pampered and often cruel, but there were other sides to her as well.

  ‘He loves you very much, Rowena,’ she said softly and for the first time Rowena looked at her, with an almost childlike entreaty.

  ‘Does he? Does he really? I think he hates me now. He used to love me. More than anyone ever did. But I made him hate me. Even if he lives, he might leave me, and I could not bear it. I could not bear it.’

  Alyssa stared in shock as Rowena suddenly cast herself on to the floor by the bed, grabbing one of Lord Moresby’s immobile hands and covering her face with it as she sobbed. After a moment Alyssa drew her chair over and sat gently stroking her cousin’s hair as she cried. Both women started violently when a frail voice spoke.

  ‘Ro?’

  Rowena’s hands closed convulsively around Lord Moresby’s hand.

  ‘Arthur? Arthur!’ She dragged herself shakily to her feet, leaning over to touch his face almost fearfully. ‘Oh, please…’

  His eyes opened and closed a few times before fixing on her.

  ‘My lovely Ro,’ he said hoarsely, trying to smile, and Rowena crumpled. She curled up on the bed beside him, sobbing and stroking his hand.

  Alyssa left the room quietly and closed the door. The valet stood in the hallway, clearly unsure what to do.

  ‘His Lordship is awake, but I think you should give them a few minutes before you enter. Perhaps you could send for the doctor meanwhile? He might want to know Lord Moresby has recovered consciousness.’

  The valet nodded and hurried off and Alyssa went downstairs to the morning room, where Lady Nesbit sat, still ramrod stiff, staring out at the wide, well-tended lawn. She was once again in possession of herself and she sent Alyssa an arctic glare.

  ‘You weren’t up there very long. Given up already?’

  In the past Alyssa might have been hurt by Lady Nesbit’s derisive tones, but today she merely walked over and sat by her.

  ‘I think she will be all right. Lord Moresby is awake and she is crying.’

  ‘Crying!’

  ‘Yes, sobbing, actually. I think she really cares for him. I never realised she could. You are right that I don’t understand her very well. I never knew this side of her.’

  Lady Nesbit raised one shaky hand to her eyes and nodded.

  ‘I tried to do right by her when Verena died. She was very young and I think… I made mistakes. But I do want her to be happy.’

  The pale milky-blue eyes met Alyssa’s with the same kind of childish entreaty as had been in Rowena’s. Alyssa smiled and gave the bony hand a comforting squeeze.

  ‘She might have a chance now. I hope she does.’

  Lady Nesbit nodded and cleared her throat.

  ‘Well. Good. I will have someone see you home in the gig.’

  Alyssa subdued a smile at this brusque dismissal. Probably both Lady Nesbit and Rowena would make her pay for having seen them in their weakness, but she didn’t mind. If Lord Moresby was recovering, then one immediate threat to Adam was removed. Still, even without the possibility of being charged with murder, he was still in danger. She needed to think and she thought best while she walked.

  ‘Don’t worry, Cousin Harriet, I prefer to walk.’

  ‘As you wish. And bring your young man to Nesbit House with you. I will be busy today, but tomorrow afternoon will do. For tea. I want to speak with you. Both of you.’

  It took Alyssa a moment to realise Lady Nesbit was referring to Adam. A gurgle of laughter bubbled up in her, but she kept her lips prim and nodded.

  ‘Of course, Cousin Harriet. Tomorrow afternoon.’

  Lady Nesbit nodded once more and returned her attention to the window. Alyssa showed herself out and headed back towards Drake Cottage. Her mind kept going back again and again to the scene in Lord Moresby’s bedroom and Rowena’s haunted, almost unfamiliar face. For the first time she had not looked merely beautiful but human, tragic, alive. The more she thought about the fear and the need in her cousin’s pale face, the more confused she felt. It was like a magic trick and she felt dense and rather stupid that she was unable to grasp where this revelation had come from. How had she never seen any signs of this humanity and love in either Rowena or Lady Nesbit? Was she so blind and prejudiced against them?

  She stopped for a moment on the bridge over the stream leading towards her home. The sun twinkled on the water as it rushed beneath her and the heat warmed her back after the coolness between the trees and she closed her eyes for a moment.

  The thought, as cool and clear as the water beneath her, appeared in her mind: if Rowena was capable of loving like that, why not Adam? Whatever he himself thought of his capacity for caring, she knew he was not fundamentally selfish. The very degree to which he had been hurt by Rowena’s and his mother’s rejections were signs of someone who felt deeply. He might not believe it, but he was capable of love.

  She opened her eyes to the swirl of light and colour beneath her. There was no point in deluding herself. He might be capable of love, in time, but not for her. He knew her too well, and even if he esteemed her, he obviously didn’t love her. There was no reason why he should suddenly fall in love with her sim
ply because she was fool enough to still cling to her fantasies.

  Even if she had been beautiful and accomplished and charming and all the things his previous women had so effortlessly been, she would still be connected with everything in his life that he resented and abhorred—with Mowbray and Rowena, the memories of his parents’ betrayal and his own humiliation. He obviously wanted nothing more than to do what he considered to be his duty by the estate and then to leave it and her. It was not as if he had offered to take Alyssa on his journeys. Just to wed her and leave her here with everything else he sought to escape. And then one day he would fall in love and she would have to live with that.

  The water winked and gurgled merrily, like a delighted animal, and she thought of that bust of Heraclites sitting so precariously on his desk and the words of that Greek philosopher: ‘You can never step into the same river twice.’

  She had been a mute and wounded witness to his love for Rowena. She would not stick around to go through that again, never knowing when it would happen and always hanging on to the hope that she might succeed in making him care for her. What kind of existence would that be? No better than the barren emotional life her own mother had led with her father.

  The fact that part of her was willing to consider it a worthy existence merely for the price of being able to be with him once or twice a year made her feel a burst of self-contempt. How many years had she spent suspended in this tiny corner of the world, content to be safe, never making any serious effort to encourage any other man because somewhere she was still holding up that ridiculous image she had of Adam? No one could ever have met that standard. And now, well, neither could Adam. He was just as flawed as any of the men she had ever met. Worse, even. His only redeeming feature was that he knew her and didn’t seem to be very outraged by her oddity. And that he could be amusing when he wasn’t reverting to acting like a schoolmaster. And other things which were best not dwelt on…

  As painful as his return to Mowbray was, it was a good thing, she told herself. It was about time she gathered enough courage to strike out on her own. She had already taken one significant step towards that independence, which she would keep close to her chest. If that didn’t work, she would just keep on trying until something did work. But first, they had to remove the danger to Adam. Besides that, everything else paled.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Adam guided Thunder into the little orchard behind Drake Cottage and hitched his reins on to the branch of an apple tree. He stroked his horse’s sooty mane as Thunder bent to feast on the lush grass and fallen fruit between the trees. From here he could see the back door of the cottage and once again the memories of what had happened there yesterday came back to him as they had too frequently for his peace of mind. Again he reminded himself he had more important matters to worry about than the insistent conviction that the most pressing order of business was to explore just how far he could coax out the sensual, wild girl Alyssa was at such pains to keep under control.

  But if he was still standing once this threat on his life was defused, he knew he would have to come to terms with the fact that the events of the past couple of days had irrevocably curtailed his choices. Rowena and his mother and the whole of Mowbray had once taught him a very valuable lesson about ever having or creating expectations, but there was no honourable way he could see of getting out of the current situation that did not involve going ahead with this marriage. Alyssa was nothing like either his mother or Rowena—those self-centred, manipulative women—but she was a romantic and a crusader, and by definition was bound to be disappointed in him, even if their union was based on convenience.

  He would just have to be very clear about the terms of that union.

  It would have some definite advantages. It would mean he would definitively be taken off the list of matrimonial targets, a result which none of his scandals seemed to achieve. And as Jem had pointed out, she was well liked and trusted and would probably keep the estate in order as well as any estate agent. Between her and Thorpe they could easily keep the place running smoothly and it would give her financial security and freedom.

  And of course there was the benefit of being able to bed her, as long as he took precautions not to get her with child. It was one thing to try to negotiate terms with an intelligent young woman, but he was not about to actively and inevitably set himself up to disappoint the absolute trust of a child.

  This determination was followed immediately by a long-lost memory of stopping by Drake Cottage on fine days in the summer when Miss Drake and her siblings would sit on a blanket spread out on the high grass, like a boat riding green waves. Alyssa was a slim and intense captain, with her sailors looking up to her with trust and conviction. She was a natural mother, as far from his own as imaginable. It would be unforgivably selfish to force her into a union when he had no intention of being a real husband or even of giving her the possibility of having children. She deserved much better than anything he had or wanted to offer. She was no fool. It was clear she would want nothing to do with such a sterile arrangement.

  He turned and headed towards the cottage. The sooner this whole story was over and he was out of Mowbray again, the better.

  Betsy answered his knock on the cottage door and curtsied.

  ‘Could you take me to Miss Drake?’

  ‘Oh, no, sir, I mean, My Lord, I can’t. I mean I could, if she were here, but she isn’t.’ She giggled nervously and Adam frowned.

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘Lady Nesbit took her to Moresby Manor. This morning. She came by in her barouche and I showed her to the parlour, sir, I mean, My Lord.’

  This seemed to be a very dramatic event for Betsy, but Adam focused on the one thing that interested him.

  ‘To Moresby Manor? When did they leave?’

  ‘An hour ago, My Lord. Shall I tell Miss that you called?’ she asked, drawing herself up importantly.

  Adam nodded absently and headed back towards Thunder. This did not sound good. Probably Moresby had passed away, the poor devil. It was terrible that he might be in some way responsible for this man’s death. The worst of it was that Alyssa was now squarely in the middle of this, with that lie hanging over her. He swung on to Thunder and headed towards Moresby Manor. He knew he would not be welcome, but he did not want her facing that situation alone.

  He almost did not see her. He was turning off the main lane on to the smaller path over the bridge at such a sharp pace it took him a moment to focus on her still figure standing by the bridge railing, looking down at the water. Relief mixed with exasperation as he realised she was alone and he drew Thunder up just as she turned. He swung off the horse, dragging Thunder’s reins over his head and leading him forward on to the bridge, his eyes on her face, trying to gauge how she was as she watched him approach, but her expression was neutral.

  ‘Betsy said you went to Moresby Manor. Is he dead?’

  Her eyes widened slightly at his blunt question, but she shook her head.

  ‘No, he recovered consciousness just half an hour ago. Cousin Harriet brought me over to talk with Rowena.’

  He relaxed slightly, the knot of guilt easing.

  ‘Talk with Rowena? Why? And why are you alone here in the middle of the woods?’

  She laid one hand on the railing.

  ‘Because Rowena has been very much affected by her concern for Lord Moresby and Lady Nesbit wanted me to try to convince her to take care of herself. And I am hardly alone in the middle of the woods, but on the lane on my way back home.’ Her voice was patient, as if she was speaking to a dunce, which only aggravated Adam further.

  ‘All Rowena does is take care of herself. I fail to see why she had to drag you out there or allow you to walk all the way home without an escort through the very woods where a knife-wielding maniac attacked Lord Moresby less than two days ago. Or why you agreed, which is much
more to the point!’

  ‘I hardly think…’

  ‘That’s just the problem! You hardly think! You are very clever when it comes to other people, but you are blind as a day-old newt when it comes to yourself! You were the one lecturing me about taking this seriously and here you are—’ He broke off, raising his hands in front of him as if warding something off. He breathed deeply and took her arm in a firm grip, propelling her down the path. ‘I will see you home.’

  Alyssa allowed herself to be led and didn’t speak until they were within sight of the cottage.

  ‘Are day-old newts blind?’ she asked curiously and Adam tightened his hold on her arm.

  ‘Don’t be flippant.’ He bit down on the anger that was threatening to be let loose. It was bad enough that she was acting so irresponsibly. Compounding reckless folly with deliberate nonchalance was a clear provocation.

  When they reached Drake Cottage he tethered Thunder once more to one of the apple trees behind the cottage and followed her through the door which led to her private parlour. She moved resolutely towards the window seat and sat down, folding her hands demurely in her lap, but her chin was raised in a gesture he was now very familiar with.

  ‘Well?’ she asked as he remained silent.

  ‘Well what?’ he snapped.

  ‘You might as well get the lecture off your chest,’ she replied. ‘You know, for someone who doesn’t appreciate lectures, you give an awful lot of them yourself.’

  ‘I wouldn’t have to…’ he began with a resolute effort to calm down ‘…if you would act with a modicum of sense.’

  ‘By your definition.’

  ‘By anyone’s definition! What is more reasonable than to expect you not to go walking alone unprotected when you yourself are convinced several violent attacks have taken place in the vicinity unless you have an excellent reason?’

  She regarded him with sudden suspicion.

  ‘I am just curious. Were you out in the woods again last night?’