The Reluctant Viscount

by Lara Temple

  ‘That is different. I was armed,’ he said impatiently and she stared at him.

  ‘Do you mean…? Well! That is beyond anything! You have the audacity to tell me I am not to walk out on my own in the middle of the day in what is practically my back garden, while you purposely go and try to put yourself in harm’s way? Let me tell you, Lord Delacort, that your definition of sense leaves a lot to be desired!’

  ‘Let me remind you that whoever this villain is is probably after me, not you…’

  ‘Precisely, which is why you should be doubly careful, not I.’

  Adam clenched his fists and started pacing the room with restless fury. It was so like her to resort to logic to confuse the issue when she knew what he said made sense. Before he could think of a response that she was not likely to rip to shreds, she spoke.

  ‘I know this situation is abhorrent to you, Adam, but if it is any consolation, your situation has just improved. With Lord Moresby recovering, even if blame swings back in your direction, at least a charge of murder is no longer on the table. I have been thinking and I believe the best course of action is for you to leave Mowbray.’

  Adam stopped pacing as the meaning of her words sank in. The silence stretched for so long Alyssa shifted in her chair and a wariness entered her eyes that had not been present before.

  ‘Do you?’ he said carefully. ‘Would you care to share your rationale, or am I deemed too dense to understand?’

  She waved his sarcasm aside.

  ‘Not at all. Even though I can’t quite get my mind around the thought of Percy as a perpetrator of violent crime, I can’t think of anyone else who might be behind all this. But if you were to leave the area, he would either have to follow you, which would be telling in itself, or he would have to give up. In either case we would be in a better position than we are now.’

  Adam stood by her desk, his fist pressing against its cool surface as if he could somehow push it through the floor and into the ground below.

  ‘We…’ he repeated slowly. ‘And wouldn’t my precipitous departure look a little odd in light of our recent engagement? Or are we going to go the full length of making me appear a cad and a coward while we are at it? It would hardly surprise anyone and it just might excite quite a bit of sympathy for you, no?’

  Alyssa’s composed expression dissolved into shock as he spoke.

  ‘Do you honestly think that is what I want?’

  He did not answer for a moment. The anger was still there, sharp and present, but he knew he was wrong. It did not make sense to be angry at her, of all people. He walked over to the window overlooking the garden. He could just make out Thunder, peaceably munching on the rich grass between the low branches of the trees. It was such a calm, sane view.

  ‘Lady Nesbit said I must bring you to tea tomorrow,’ she said, her voice calmer.

  Adam turned around, grateful for the olive branch she offered.

  ‘Did she? Should I come in full armour?’

  Her smile peeped through, lighting up her eyes.

  ‘Well, she did call you “that young man”, but tea is a good sign. Teas at Nesbit House are rather a sacred event. I think she is trying to gauge whether to rescue me or redeem you.’

  ‘Are those our only two choices?’

  She laughed.

  ‘Today is the most human I have ever seen her. Her and Rowena.’ Her smile dimmed slightly as she watched him. ‘I’ve never seen Rowena like this. I know what you think of her, but I think she really cares for Moresby. She was shattered, almost like a little child.’

  ‘I don’t doubt the strength of her dependency. Just her ability to give anything in return.’

  Alyssa shrugged.

  ‘Sometimes just showing need is enough of a gift. I am glad Arthur saw her like that.’

  ‘And thus Rowena earns a place on your list of wounded animals,’ he mused and she raised her chin.

  ‘What bothers you so—that I might have added her to this fictitious list, or that you might be on it as well?’

  Adam wandered over to her desk, holding down forcibly on the need to react to that. He should not be surprised if she pushed back when he prodded. She stood up suddenly and strode over to the desk and began stacking papers and placing them in one of the drawers. He frowned. There was something distracted about her suddenly and he wondered if there had been something in those papers she had not wished him to see. He ignored the jab of curiosity. It was none of his business. Before he could answer her question, she continued.

  ‘Believe me, I have no more wish to remove Rowena from my “Most Aggravating” list than you do. But I’m willing to concede that she is capable of more human emotion than I gave her credit for.’

  ‘And so, inevitably, we circle back to love,’ he said cynically. ‘I’m well aware that people prefer to cloak self-interest under loftier façades, but I would have thought you were too intelligent to fall for such ploys.’

  ‘Simply because you’ve never experienced something yourself, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist!’

  ‘True. Like angels and fairies and guaranteed returns on investments.’

  ‘Oh, for… Never mind. I should know better than to let you provoke me when you are in one of your moods.’

  She sounded so exasperated that his anger faded on an instant.

  ‘I do not have moods. You make me sound just like one of those crotchety, dyspeptic old biddies coming to Mowbray to take the waters.’

  Her dimple appeared and she shot him the mischievous look he knew she had no idea was so seductive. It once again amazed him she had not secured a husband. What on earth was wrong with the men of Mowbray, or rather what was wrong with her? It could not only be the lack of a dowry. Men needed encouragement, of course, and as far as he could tell she gave none. It was amazing she had learned so little from her very adept cousin. Could she really be waiting for some fairy-tale prince to come charging into Mowbray and sweep her off her feet? It was hard to credit that someone so practical could also be so naïve.

  She sat down, her eyes still glinting with amusement.

  ‘No, you are just very used to having your own way and tend to get colicky when crossed.’

  ‘Don’t push your luck.’

  She laughed.

  ‘Fine. We should get down to business anyway. Did you talk with Jem? What did you find out? What are you going to do about Percy? You should probably have someone keep an eye on him. Perhaps…’

  ‘Perhaps you might let me speak?’ he asked politely and she sighed.

  ‘Sorry. There is just so much… However, please go ahead.’

  ‘Thank you. As for Percy, Jem’s eldest son Jacob is keeping an eye on him, as much as possible. We know he was at the Duck and Dragon last night. They hold cockfights there several nights a week and Percy is a regular, but you can imagine it is not exactly a place people keep tabs on each other. Jacob did report that he spent yesterday evening there until well past midnight when Libbet came to drag him home to his apartments on Turl Street, which is also apparently a common occurrence. There is always the possibility of course that Percy has hired someone rather than doing the dirty deed himself.’

  She nodded. ‘That would make more sense. Try as I might, I can’t seem to picture Percy actually doing any of this himself. But wouldn’t it be expensive to hire someone?’

  ‘Not as much as you might think and he could easily meet some very unpleasant characters at the Duck and Dragon willing to cause mischief for a few coins. And certainly for some of the jewels and fobs he has purchased at the estate’s expense before I cut him off. There would be something poetic about Percy using funds borrowed from the estate to do away with me.’

  ‘But what about Timothy? And Ivor? Do you mean that Percy has managed to find reliable tools to do his dirty work on two previous oc
casions in very different circumstances? It all seems so fantastic.’

  ‘I agree, which means there may in fact have been nothing suspicious about those deaths after all, or simply that we are underestimating him and that he, like Rowena, has hidden depths yet to be plumbed.’

  She frowned at him.

  ‘Which, by your tone, you don’t believe in the least.’

  ‘Let’s just say I will have to be convinced. For the moment I am willing to explore all possibilities.’

  ‘Who is next in line? After Percy?’ she asked abruptly and he smiled.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t give you the pleasure of adding them to the party. The next in line to the estate after Percy is our cousin George Ingram, who is a very staid and proper middle-aged Methodist minister living outside Newcastle. He is already quite well to do, but lives extremely simply, basking in the glory of his flock and dispensing a great deal of charity. His son is currently somewhere in Africa, establishing orphanages. And while George does deeply disapprove of my way of life and occasionally sends me long letters calling on me to renounce my wasteful and licentious ways and find comfort in sincere prayer, I challenge even you to draw him into this plot. I am afraid we will have to make do with Percy, the possibility of someone from my disreputable past who has followed me here or that this is merely an unfortunate string of coincidences.’

  She sat back with an annoyed huff.

  ‘I don’t like any of those options.’

  ‘I am not very fond of them myself, but that is the current situation. I promised to keep you informed and I will continue to do so on the condition you don’t go off on your own like some misguided Bow Street Runner. Now, unless you have any practical suggestions, we should move on to our other business.’

  The wariness returned to her eyes.

  ‘The engagement,’ he clarified and that dimple appeared.

  ‘Of course, I had forgotten.’

  ‘Which is why I thought I would remind you. Given Lord Moresby’s condition no one will be expecting festivities, but they will be expecting something. You know the rules here, so this is your province. Just tell me my role.’

  ‘Very well. Our first move must be to convince Cousin Harriet—Lady Nesbit, that is—to give us her support. If she is seen to favour the match, the whole neighbourhood will follow without question. We could even appeal to her for advice. That would gratify her and give her motivation to promote the match. And then perhaps we could attend an Assembly or a concert in the Pump Rooms together. Something undramatic and yet public… Are you laughing at me?’ she asked suspiciously as she caught the amusement in his eyes.

  ‘No. Just an appreciative audience of your machinations.’

  ‘You’re impossible! Not everything exists for your amusement, Adam. How can you be so flippant when there may be someone out there plotting his next move against you? Would you please take this seriously?’

  There was such concern in her eyes his amusement faded. It was a strange feeling, having someone so focused on his welfare. It made him uncomfortable and he wasn’t sure he liked it.

  ‘You seem to be taking it seriously enough for both of us. Are you really so worried?’

  ‘Of course I am,’ she answered, surprised, but it struck him that the very sincerity of her answer cheapened her concern. It placed him squarely in line with her other objects of worry, like her siblings and her cousins. He told himself, again, he should be very happy that he occupied no loftier position, but some vanity, or pique, resisted this sensible conclusion. It wasn’t that he really wanted to make her believe herself in love with him, but just to have her admit that there was a natural attraction between them that placed him in a rather different category than her usual list of needy causes. There was no way he was going to be classified alongside that silly Mary and now Rowena.

  ‘You don’t have much faith in me,’ he mocked, moving forward and raising her chin gently. It was as much a warning as a statement and to give her credit she recognised it as such immediately, her eyes darkening from a soft, almost golden green to the shade of shadows in the woods outside.

  ‘Up to a point,’ she answered, her voice subdued and wary.

  ‘Smart. I’m tempted to ask what point. And then cross it.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I think I might enjoy myself there. I have a feeling you would, too, if you would just give yourself some freedom to do so. What did Herrick write? “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may”? Starting with these.’

  He brushed his thumb along the tense line of her lower lip, caressing it, pulling at it gently as if he could physically tease out her inner struggle. Her lashes dipped, fanning over the faint colour that spread across her cheekbones, and he felt the undeniable surge of triumph mix with the desire he was getting tired of keeping at bay. Good intentions were thoroughly inconvenient, especially when there was someone out there determined to get rid of him permanently. Why not take and give some pleasure while he yet could? He wouldn’t go further than a kiss or two.

  ‘“The grave’s a fine and private place, but none, I think, do there embrace,”’ he quoted lightly as he tucked a honey-brown lock of hair behind her ear.

  ‘That is Marvell, not Herrick,’ she said faintly, but she did not move away.

  ‘So it is. Another cynic and a much better poem for my purposes. Not the title, though. I am well aware you are neither coy nor my mistress, unfortunately.’

  ‘Are you trying to shock me, again?’

  ‘No, I am trying to prepare you for the fact that I am going to kiss you, again.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Now, that is a foolish question, even for you,’ he said and raised her chin as he bent to brush his lips over hers. ‘We were doing quite nicely before Nicholas interrupted us on that rather eventful day and we might as well derive some degree of pleasure from this engagement, don’t you think? If you want me to stop, just say so.’

  She didn’t speak and he slid his palm over her cheek, into her hair, registering every texture and fighting back the drive to let slip the manacles on his control. The last thing he wanted to do was scare her. She didn’t move and he bent to skim his lips over hers very gently, waiting for some sign that she was with him. Some release in the tension that held her rigid.

  He touched his mouth to her cheek, her throat, to the pulse that rushed beneath her soft skin, then up to the hollow beneath her ear, and a slight shudder ran through her, echoing through him with sharp immediacy. An unfamiliar vice tightened on his body, bordering on pain, and he had to forcibly restrain the urge to pull her against his body. Until she was fully with him he had to keep this light.

  ‘See, wild girl?’ he whispered against her mouth, just teasing her lips with his. ‘That’s not so terrible, is it?’

  She shook her head and her lips finally relaxed against his on a small sigh. Once again the unfamiliar vice closed on him and for a second he wondered if he could control this. He knew he would have to stop soon, but it seemed absurd not to explore just a little further the obvious passion she kept so firmly under lock and key.

  He slid his hand down, spreading his fingers over the small of her back. He could feel her skin, hot and pliant beneath the loosely woven muslin dress she wore. He wanted to feel just that curve under his hand, feel her skin directly, its soft heat, and slide down over her backside, pulling her to him… He curved his hand over her nape, holding her as he gave in and kissed her slowly and thoroughly, revelling in the way her body softened and sank against his just as it had before.

  His mind moved ahead of him, telling him to lock the door, that it was time to stop playing games and take her up on the promise of pleasure she was expressing in everything but words. He would probably have to marry her anyway; so he would only be anticipating…

  ‘The gate…’ she gasped suddenly.

 
Adam shook his head, neither comprehending nor caring, but then he, too, heard the squeal of the garden gate and the snap as it closed behind someone. Alyssa pressed her hands to his chest, pushing him back.

  ‘Maybe it was just someone leaving,’ he said hopefully, but then they both heard the knock on the front door and before he could stop her Alyssa turned and hurried out of the room. He moved towards the mirror over the mantelpiece, fixing the folds of his cravat and cursing long and silently. It was probably Nicholas. He didn’t know whether to berate his friend or thank him for the interruption.

  The door to the study opened and Alyssa re-entered, followed by Sir James Muncy. Alyssa did not meet Adam’s eyes, but other than the flush on her cheeks he could see she had herself in hand and that the wild girl had been resolutely banished for the moment. Sir James paused for a moment on the threshold as he noticed Adam and bowed apologetically.

  ‘Good day, Lord Delacort. I mean no offence, sir, but I had hoped to speak to Miss Drake alone.’

  Before Adam could voice any objection Alyssa raised her hand.

  ‘There is no need, Sir James. I assure you Lord Delacort’s presence here will have absolutely no impact on my answers.’

  She sat down on the sofa and indicated the chair opposite her. Sir James hesitated, his pale blue eyes searching hers for a moment, then he nodded and sat down.

  ‘Very well. I have just come from Moresby Manor, where Dr Hedgeway informed me that Lord Moresby has recovered consciousness. I have not yet had the opportunity to question him, but Dr Hedgeway did agree to enquire on my behalf whether His Lordship had any memory of the attack and apparently he is still in such a confused state that he has no clear recollection. Indeed, as the knife wound was inflicted from behind, there is every possibility he might not have seen his assailant at all. This means we still have no clear direction in our enquiry. We are of course looking into tenant grievances and the like, but the fact remains that the most glaring motive for an act of enmity against Lord Moresby, as you yourself must be aware, My Lord, is still yours. Am I clear thus far, Miss Drake?’