His Unsuitable Viscountess

by Michelle Styles

  ‘You are quite right. Romeo would hate that.’ Her voice caught slightly. Was he asking her to stay? Did he want her with the same ache with which she wanted him? This was all so new to her.

  ‘I can see the dog will have his uses,’ he murmured, pulling her against his body.

  ‘I’m glad you approve.’ She gave her lips up to his.

  * * *

  Eleanor walked into the library at Broomhaugh. The French doors leading out to the terrace were open to allow in the heat of the late-August afternoon. Romeo trotted at her heels.

  The little dog had taken to going to the foundry with her and sleeping in the office as she worked. She’d been pleasantly surprised at how well behaved Romeo was. True, he occasionally barked at Mrs Nevin, and dug holes in the borders, but she’d come to appreciate him.

  Ben looked up from his pile of correspondence. His curly hair was slightly mussed and he had an ink smudge on his cheek. Eleanor’s heart did a funny flip. She liked him best, she decided, when he wasn’t perfect and pristine but had been absorbed in something.

  Romeo gave a sharp little bark and bounded over to demand that his undercarriage be tickled.

  ‘You are early,’ Ben said, bending down to adore Romeo, who made little snuffling noises of appreciation at the attention.

  ‘Is that a problem? I can go away.’

  ‘I am surprised, but pleased.’ Ben rose and enfolded her in his arms. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. ‘Is there some reason? Or did Romeo miss me too much?’

  ‘Can’t you tell from the way Romeo greeted you? He was desperate to see you.’

  She leant back against his arms. Somehow it was easier to talk about Romeo missing him rather than admitting that she had been the one. She’d found it nearly impossible to keep her mind on the meeting with Mr Swaddle’s son and Mr Johnson about the new sword range. She’d spent the entire meeting wondering what Ben was doing and if he could be persuaded to make love to her. She enjoyed their lovemaking, but it seemed right to let him make the first move.

  ‘And I wanted to put our new lady’s sword to the test and desired an excellent opponent—someone who will test my skills to the utmost.’

  ‘And that someone would be me?’ He pushed the hair from her face.

  She smiled back at him. It seemed incredible that in a few weeks he’d become the centre of her existence. She knew the sword and Romeo were transparent excuses to see him, but it didn’t matter. It was better than admitting her true feelings. He had made it clear at the outset that the best she could hope for was companionship. It wasn’t his fault that she longed for something much less tepid. She wanted fire and passion.

  ‘I need a worthy opponent.’

  ‘May I see the sword?’ he asked, moving away from her. ‘A few more visitors left their cards while you were out. They are over there.’

  Eleanor wrinkled her nose. More cards. She knew she needed to make visits, but her work took precedence. And if they had been normal they would have still been on their honeymoon. ‘I will write short notes later. Who knew that there were so many people to visit in the area?’

  ‘My mother would be appalled. She always answers them straight away. Whenever she returns to the house, the first thing she does is collect up any cards that have been left in her absence and answer them.’

  And what would Alice have done? Eleanor bit back the words before they spilled from her mouth. She hated the little curl of jealousy. It happened at the oddest times. Ben never mentioned his late wife, never confided about his first marriage or the child he’d lost. Other than when he’d decided to keep Romeo he’d never mentioned her past troubles, either. The past was behind her. Behind them both.

  ‘Lucky your mother is not here, then,’ she said, keeping her chin up and pushing away the feeling. The list his mother left remained sealed and pushed under a pile of handkerchiefs. She kept finding reasons why she couldn’t possibly open it.

  ‘I certainly have no plans to tell her.’ He gave a half-smile. ‘It is refreshing that you put other things ahead of your social obligations.’

  Eleanor took a deep breath. It was impossible to tell if that was a compliment or not. And if it wasn’t she didn’t want to know. She quickly went and retrieved the sword. She held it out to him.

  ‘You see there is a slight difference in the balance? Ladies prefer a lighter sword, but it still has to be firm. This is not a toy. You need to adjust your grip accordingly. Getting the hilt right took dedication. Davy Swaddle had to recast it three times, but I think this time it works. Romeo agrees.’

  The dog gave a little snuffle of approval before wandering out of the room and into the garden.

  Ben turned the sword over. His long fingers curved around the hilt and his lips became a thin white line. ‘You managed to make the correct hilt? Are you making steel again?’

  ‘Steel is far too expensive for a hilt. It needs to be saved for the blade,’ Eleanor said lightly. The last thing she wanted was an argument about her being near the furnace. She knew he wasn’t happy about the accident before the wedding, but she hoped he’d trust her to be sensible. She trusted Davy to know what he was doing, yet his father’s accident still gave her nightmares. There would be time enough to work on the super-flexible sword when Mr Swaddle returned. ‘We used silver plate with brass highlights.’

  ‘You didn’t answer the question.’ There was a definite edge to his voice. ‘Has Mr Swaddle come back?’

  Eleanor’s heart sank. She really didn’t want to quarrel about this. Not today. And particularly not when she was innocent.

  ‘Mr Swaddle will return in a week or two. His arm is healing nicely, but the burn was deep and takes a long time. Why?’

  ‘I was curious.’ He turned the sword over. ‘No engraving?’

  ‘This is a prototype. I want to see if it is light enough and yet not easy to dislodge.’ She struggled to keep her voice even. ‘That is if I can find a willing partner?’

  His eyes developed a slight twinkle. ‘You are suggesting fencing in the library?’

  ‘Best place for it now that Viv has taken his vases away and his pictures have gone into storage.’

  ‘Do you have many customers who are ladies?’

  ‘You’d be surprised. We have them from all walks of life.’ Eleanor gestured with the sword. ‘The reputable, the demi-rep, and some distinctly disreputable who pay cash. I prefer those who pay cash.’

  ‘Are you trying to be shocking?’

  ‘Not particularly.’

  He shook his head. ‘My mother would have a fit if you voiced such a sentiment in public. She likes to pretend such women don’t exist.’

  ‘That would be folly for Moles.’

  ‘And Moles comes first?’

  ‘In matters of business, yes,’ Eleanor said firmly. ‘I do know how to behave in public, Ben. And your mother left a long list of instructions just in case I should encounter something unfamiliar.’

  His gaze narrowed. ‘Where is the list now?’

  ‘I put it under my handkerchiefs,’ Eleanor admitted. ‘I haven’t had time to look at it.’

  His eyes sobered. ‘You would do well to tear it into little pieces. My mother is notoriously overbearing in her instructions. She has reduced people to tears in the past.’

  Eleanor tilted her head. ‘What are you saying?’

  He reached out and touched her shoulder. ‘I like you as you are, Eleanor.’

  Eleanor ducked her head. Like, not love. She amused him. She had to wonder if Alice had amused him. ‘Are we going to fence?’

  ‘I’d be delighted. Shall you fence like a reputable

  client or a disreputable one?’

  ‘What would your mother say?’

  ‘It is most definitely not any of her
business.’

  A tiny bubble of laughter welled up in her. Ever since their wedding night Ben seemed happier and more relaxed. That had to be a good thing. But she couldn’t help feeling that this contentment wouldn’t last. And she certainly didn’t want to be the one to destroy it. Despite giving him opportunities, he never spoke about his late wife or what he’d done in London. He never mentioned going to London to see his mother.

  She was conscious of feeling that it was all too good to last. And every day she wanted it to last a little longer. Every day she was pleased when he kissed her or brushed her hand. It meant he still desired her. That this fire she felt for him wasn’t one-sided.

  ‘Will you fence in a gown or in breeches?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  His slow gaze travelled down her, caressing her curves. She grew hot from his glance. Physically he took her to places she’d never dreamt possible. He made her feel beautiful and wanted. But how long would it last? How long until he wanted to rejoin society? Before the little endearing things became massive annoyances? Until he started to judge her by her appearance and discovered her lacking?

  Eleanor thought about the list. She might have placed it under her handkerchiefs but she wasn’t going to get rid of it. Before she entered society she would know each and every item on it. She did intend to do it. It was simply that Moles had to come first.

  ‘I like you in both.’ The dimple in his cheek deepened. ‘It depends on how vigorous your intended clients will be.’

  ‘Shall we place a wager?’

  ‘You lost the last time,’ he reminded her, and a slow curl of desire wound its way around her insides. She knew precisely how delicious losing had been.

  ‘And you lost the time before,’ she retorted. ‘And I only lost because you distracted me with a kiss.’

  ‘That was because you had the most delightful frown. And we both benefited.’

  ‘I will fence in my gown.’ Eleanor kept her mind away from how he’d undressed her last night, using the tip of his sword to cut the buttons off her gown. If she thought about what might happen afterwards she’d never stand a chance. And, although it was pleasant to lose to Ben, it was much more fun to win. She wanted to cut the buttons off his shirt. ‘I always assume my clients to be reputable.’

  ‘And the wager?’

  ‘The winner gets to decide what we do for the rest of the afternoon,’ Eleanor proclaimed.

  ‘Then I had best play to win,’ Ben said with a distinct gleam in his eye.

  She wet her lips. The faint feeling of being unsettled was back—as if she’d been riding backwards in a carriage for a long time. It had been there yesterday morning and this morning, but had gone after she’d eaten a square of toast. Romeo had had the remainder. It annoyed her that it had returned. She wanted to fence, not to eat. She’d shunned lunch at the foundry because she’d wanted to return to Broomhaugh early, and the smell of chicken soup always made her stomach feel upset.

  She willed the wave of whatever it was to go. The last thing she wanted Ben to think was that she was somehow delicate and in need of cosseting. She’d been looking forward to fencing all day.

  ‘You appear a bit pale, Eleanor.’

  ‘I’m fine,’ Eleanor snapped, and immediately regretted it. ‘Truly I am. The thought of fencing with you has kept me going all morning.’

  ‘Was it that bad?’

  ‘Mr Johnson wanted to discuss our latest order from the Bow Street Runners for cutlasses. Why does that man have the ability to turn the simplest thing into a great drama? It was all straightforward until he started muttering about the type of hilt.’ She looped a tendril of hair behind her ear. ‘You had best be ready. I have some excess energy to work off.’

  Ben did not smile at her feeble attempt at a joke. If anything, his face became sterner. ‘Are you sure you are not overdoing it? Surely Mr Johnson can make some of the decisions? Or even Mr Swaddle’s son. He seems to be sound.’

  ‘Things will be less frantic when Mr Swaddle returns.’ She put her hands behind her back and tried to ease it. She knew she was working harder than ever before, but she wanted to spend time with Ben. It wasn’t his fault that this was one of the busiest times of the year. ‘I suspect lack of sleep is not helping either.’

  ‘And whose fault would that be?’

  ‘Both of ours,’ she admitted.

  ‘Once Mr Swaddle returns I want to reclaim my wife. We are supposed to be on honeymoon. Sometimes I feel I see Romeo more than I see you.’

  ‘Romeo goes where I go, so that is impossible.’

  ‘You know what I mean, Eleanor. You can delegate.’

  ‘I am here now—ready to fence. I want you to give me a good match, but I am particularly interested in the parry and counter-attack.’

  ‘You take the swords very seriously.’

  ‘Someone has to. Someone has to care.’

  Eleanor lifted the sword and had to readjust her stance to take account of the sword’s lightness. It had nothing to do with the light-headed feeling that suddenly swamped her.

  The sword was far too light for her preference, but many of the ladies, particularly in London, desired a lightweight sword. Fencing with it with a skilled opponent was necessary, and she’d promised to report back on it. If only she could clear the muddle from her brain. She felt as if she was on a packet bound for London rather than being in Broomhaugh’s library. She brought her foot down far too heavily.

  Ben cupped her cheek and his thumb lightly stroked her skin. The gentle touch did much to dispel her queasiness. It took all her strength not to rest her head against his chest.

  ‘Are you sure you want to pursue this? We could have a quieter pursuit? Perhaps a game of chess? Or we could go for a stroll with Romeo. A bit of air?’

  ‘I came home specifically to fence.’

  It still amazed Eleanor how quickly this place had become home and how easily the word tripped off her tongue. How familiar the walls were. She still had not chosen her rooms, preferring to stay with Ben. That would come in time. Right now she enjoyed the pleasure of waking up in his arms. Other than on that first night, he’d never slipped away to look out of the window.

  ‘You can always change your mind.’

  ‘I came home to fence...with you. No other opponent would do.’ Her voice came out high and tight. Ben had to realise that she needed to do this. She wanted to win and to demand her reward.

  ‘That’s what I like about you, Eleanor.’

  ‘What’s that?’ she asked suspiciously.

  ‘Your determination. Once you set your course there is no dissuading you.’

  Eleanor tilted her head. How bad did she look? Had he guessed that she wasn’t feeling well? She’d hated it when her mother had used feeling weak as an excuse. Weakness like that was for other people. Not her!

  ‘Of course if you don’t feel up to it I’ll understand. After all we have been having a few late nights, and you have been working hard to get the estate in order. And you are older than me.’

  ‘You make it sound like I’m in my dotage.’ He reached for his sword. ‘I wanted to give you the option in case you preferred a more sedate occupation.’

  Eleanor squared her shoulders. A little thing like feeling sick was not going to stand in her way. She’d looked forward to this all day. To how she was going to undress him and suggest they make love in the library rather than in their bedroom. ‘Shall we have at it?’

  Their swords clashed and Eleanor allowed the now familiar rhythm of fencing with Ben to fill her. The

  exertion allowed a faint breeze to wash over her, cooling her. It felt good to be active rather than sitting behind a desk. Yes, this was the right thing to be doing.

  Ben parried, pivoting to the right—a simple manoeuvre, one which he had made a hundred times before
. She was ready for it and proud that she had anticipated it. She pivoted to the left to block his move. Too fast. The world spun slightly. Becoming unbalanced, she put her foot down a bit too heavily and stumbled. She gripped the sword but the hilt was suddenly slippery in her hand.

  ‘You can do better than that!’

  Ben’s laughing voice came from a long way away. She dropped the sword and put her hands on her knees. She attempted to focus on Romeo, who had come back into the library completely covered in dirt. The world turned black at its edges. ‘Give me a moment.’

  ‘Eleanor?’

  ‘I will be fine. All I need is time.’ Even saying the words was an effort. Her lungs refused to fill with air. She wanted to breathe. ‘Air! I. Want. Air.’

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Eleanor!’

  Ben dropped his sword as his wife went very pale and crumpled before his eyes. She pitched forward on the library’s Turkish carpet, missing the edge of the oak table by a hair’s breadth.

  He reached her side in a single stride, turned her over and lifted her shoulders up. Eleanor’s lips were tinged blue and her skin was a clammy white. Her head lolled to one side.

  Panic clawed at his stomach. He concentrated on checking that she was fine rather than running nightmare scenarios through his head that somehow the blade had cut her. No blood. Nothing. Simply Eleanor in a faint.

  Deliberate?

  Ben rejected the notion instantly. Not Eleanor. Eleanor didn’t do things like fainting for effect. His mother’s protégées might. One of his mother’s proud boasts was that she taught her girls how to faint with elegance and grace, rather than falling to the floor in a crumpled heap. That was not Eleanor’s style. She was bigger than that. His heart clenched.

  When had he started to care for her? Beyond as a friend? When had this started? If he cared for her he could lose her, and he wasn’t prepared to lose her. He hadn’t planned on that.

  He pushed the thought away. His feelings for Eleanor were too new to be examined. The one thing that thrummed through him was the fact that he had to protect Eleanor and prevent this from ever happening again. He should have stopped the bout earlier. He should have seen that she was in trouble. He knew about her recklessness and inclination to ignore her own safety.