The Viscount's Bawdy Bargain

by Connie Lane

  “Be that as it may…” The very fact that Newbury would presume to interrupt was a sign of his distress. “We had a bit of a meeting this morning, m’lord. All of us.” He gestured toward the crowd, most of whom—now that their mutiny was public knowledge and their lord was looking at them—turned away or stared down at the ground. “It took us a while to hash the thing out but we finally decided. We will not…We cannot…be a party to such depravity.”

  While Willie managed a sputtered protest, Nick could manage nothing at all. There was a knot in his throat the size of Gloucester. It matched the one in his stomach. He stared at Newbury in dumb amazement, fighting to take in everything the man was telling him and feeling not unlike he’d felt the night before when Willie’s fist came out of nowhere and connected with his nose.

  The fact that it was completely unlike Newbury to disregard his master’s feelings should have told Nick just how far past hope the situation had progressed. As if pronouncing a death sentence, Newbury pulled back his stooped and scrawny shoulders. “Surely you understand, m’lord,” he said. “We have our reputations to consider. Even if you do not.”

  One part of Nick wanted to argue with the man. Another wanted to throw up his hands in disgust. A third wanted to throttle him. He decided on a strategy somewhere in between. “But where will you go?” he asked. “I mean, there’s a damned lot of you. Upstairs maids and downstairs maids and tweenies by the score. Where will Cook go?” His mouth watered at the memory of Cook’s superb meals.

  “And you, Newbury? You’re not Moses. You can’t lead the masses out of here and into the bally desert and wait for manna to fall out of the skies to feed you. There are other considerations. You’ll need work and no one is going to hire—”

  “Good morning, Somerton!”

  Nick’s words stopped as if they’d been sliced with a knife. He didn’t need to turn around to know who’d come up on him unawares. He recognized the voice. After all, he’d heard it only the night before, when the leader of the Blades admitted defeat at the hands of the Dashers.

  And suddenly, everything made sense.

  “Ravensfield!” Hiding his distress, Nick turned and smiled at the duke with a sangfroid that was famous in ton circles and a smile cold enough to freeze the devil himself out of hell. “I might have known you’d be at the bottom of this.”

  The corners of the duke’s mouth twitched with the effort of controlling a smile. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said. He sauntered over to where Willie was standing and lifted her hand. He kissed her fingers.

  “I don’t know what you see in the man,” Ravensfield said to Willie. “But then, Somerton’s appeal to women has always been something of a mystery to me. He’s not a bad fellow, though he does tend to be a bit hasty at times. I think you’ll agree with me there. And if the stories I’ve heard are to be believed, he has something of a temper. Besides that, let’s see…” He pursed his lips, thinking. “He takes too many things far too seriously,” Ravensfield declared and added with a laugh, “Except for love, of course!”

  “And is that how you expect me to react to the mass desertion of my entire staff? By not taking it too seriously?” Nick snatched Willie’s hand out of the duke’s grasp. “Explain yourself, Ravensfield.”

  The words were simple, but there was no mistaking the edge of anger that honed them. Ravensfield gave in with enough of a smile to make it seem as if it were his own idea. “I called around to see you this morning. Seems that last night, I was in so much of a hurry to get back to my most delightful companion that I left my hat behind. I could have sent a servant around, of course, but as luck would have it, I was passing this way on other business. Imagine my surprise when your good Newbury informed me that you were not in. That you had taken the young lady home. At ten o’clock in the morning!”

  Ravensfield’s knowing gaze appraised Willie from head to toe and though he was clearly amazed that such a plain-as-Salisbury miss could attract the attention of a man as discriminating as Somerton, there was something in his frank assessment that said he approved nonetheless.

  It wasn’t until Ravensfield’s gaze rested on Willie’s hand that Nick realized he was still holding it. He dropped it as if it were on fire. “It isn’t what you think,” he said.

  “Me?” Ravensfield’s expression was the picture of innocence. “I don’t think a thing. And if I did, it is no more my business than my…business…is any business of yours. But your servants…” He shook his head. “They were in a terrible quandary when I arrived. And quite upset by all accounts. I couldn’t help but hear what was going on. There was some talk of how you’d done it this time, besmirched the family name well and good, and one little scullery maid was in tears. Seems she was worried what might happen when her sainted, white-haired granny discovered that the Viscount Somerton’s supposedly respectable home was really a house of ill repute.” Ravensfield shrugged his broad shoulders.

  “What else could I do?” he asked. “I tried to help as much as I was able.” He paused long enough to make sure Nick got his message. “They had worked themselves into quite a state. You know how the serving classes can get when they are provoked. Finally I realized there was no soothing them. I did what any friend would do, what you yourself would have done had I been in such a predicament. I stepped in and set things straight.”

  “You stepped in and stole them out from under me!”

  As if Nick had meant the accusation as a compliment, Ravensfield beamed a smile. “I’ve just finished construction on Broadworth Hall, my new country home in Berkshire. Seven thousand acres. Fifty-nine rooms not counting the servants quarters. I have to admit, I was beginning to wonder where I’d find a trained staff to step in and get the place up and running. Not that they are nearly enough.” Ravensfield let go a long-suffering sigh.

  “But for now, they will have to do. And I have always admired your Newbury.” He laughed. “My Newbury,” he corrected himself. “He is a man of impeccable manners, even if his taste in traveling clothes is rather less than might be hoped for. So…”

  Savoring the moment, Ravensfield drew in a deep breath. “We are off to Berkshire where the air is clean, the skies are blue. Don’t blame them for leaving, by the way, and don’t be angry. I’ve more than doubled their yearly wages. They couldn’t possibly refuse my offer. Sorry, Somerton.” He clapped Nick on the back and smiling like a brewer’s horse, he signaled to the convoy of servants to get started at the same time he headed back to his carriage.

  “Oh and by the way…” Halfway there, Ravensfield stopped and turned. “You’ve done it again,” he said with a wink and a sly smile. “More fodder for the gossip mills. Word’s gone around as word always does. They’re talking about this little incident from one end of London to the other and from what I’ve heard, there are more tongues wagging this time than the last. Last time, there was no mistaking what you had in mind when you pounced through that window, naked as the cuckoo in Christmas. This time…” He touched the brim of his hat and bowed in Willie’s direction.

  “This time, you’ve got them guessing. Drives them mad, you know. The rumormongers hate it when they don’t know all the details. It looks like they will do what they always do. They will simply have to invent them. Good day, Somerton.” He nodded. “And to you, miss.” His parting words hanging in the air like oil on a stream, Ravensfield hopped into his curricle, grabbed the reins and started off, and the long line of carts filled with Nick’s former servants followed behind.

  Paralyzed with disbelief and numb with anger, Nick watched them go and it wasn’t until the last cart had turned the corner that he shook himself out of his daze. He headed for the house, covering the distance quickly, his steps hammering the pavement at the same time his gaze darted from house to house along the street.

  They might pretend to fine manners and flawless upbringing, but his neighbors were no more circumspect about their interest in the goings-on in front of Somerton House than were the people who
lived around Culpepper’s church. There wasn’t one house on the elegant street where the draperies weren’t open, and not any window in any of those houses that didn’t have a nose pressed to the glass and a pair of overcurious eyes behind it, watching the peculiar farce taking place outside Somerton House.

  The dazzling smile Nick aimed at his nosy neighbors was enough to inform them he’d seen them, and taken note. One by one, the faces disappeared from the windows and the draperies fell back into place.

  As a matter of habit, Nick paused outside the imposing front door of his home, so used to having someone step forward to open it for him that he nearly forgot there was no one there to perform the service. Mumbling a curse, he hauled open the door and slammed it shut behind him with enough force to make the crystal chandelier in the entryway chink. He stalked up the stairs and into the library and headed straight for the sideboard. There was a bottle of brandy there and he peeled off his gloves and tossed them aside. He reached for the bottle, splashed three fingers of brandy into a glass, downed it, and poured another before he plopped into the nearest chair.

  “Have you eaten anything today?”

  Startled by the voice, Nick looked up and found Willie toeing the line between the passageway outside and the library. “I’d forgotten about you.”

  “There’s a fine thing to say.” They were far beyond formalities and she didn’t wait to be invited in. She crossed the room, the sound of her steps like a whisper against the carpet. She perched herself on the chair opposite his. “I am sure I am not nearly as talented as your cook but I can prepare something if you like. It’s the least I can do.”

  “The least you can do?” Nick laughed. “Surely you’re confused, Miss Culpepper. As all of London is sure to know by now, I am the guilty party here.” Even if Willie could not, he could well imagine that the air over the West End was already blue with the rumors, the story gaining more fanciful and scandalous details with each recounting. He could hear it now: a pretty and virtuous girl whisked from the doors of a church against her will; a house full of wild and drunken men; a journey home the next morning, just the reckless and notorious viscount and a miss who was by this time, no doubt, a mistress.

  The very thought gave Nick the all-overs.

  “There’s nothing at all for you to feel contrite about,” he assured her.

  “Isn’t there?” Willie glanced away. It was a strangely hesitant reaction from a woman who was direct enough to speak her mind and sure enough of herself to let a right cross punctuate her words, and it was that more than anything else that convinced Nick he needed to take control and set things right.

  It was damned inconvenient to be made to feel so guilty so early in the day.

  Damned awkward to be reminded that he had principles.

  Damned annoying that his conscience should remind him that there was a solution to the problem.

  Suddenly finding himself at a place he had hoped to never venture, in a situation he had hoped not to have to face for a very long time, Nick knew exactly what to do. He downed his drink in one gulp and pulled himself to his feet.

  “Willie…er…Miss Culpepper…” He didn’t much like the way his voice wavered over the words but now that he’d begun, he couldn’t stop.

  “Miss Culpepper, I should be most honored if you would accept my offer of marriage.”

  6

  It was difficult to take a proposal of marriage seriously when the man making it looked as if he were standing before a firing squad.

  His body braced as if for the punch of bullets to his chest, his breath tight, Somerton waited for Willie’s answer. From the look of complete and absolute panic on his face, there was no doubt that he thought he knew exactly what that answer would be.

  Earlier, Willie had admitted that she enjoyed watching Somerton’s discomfort, both physical and mental. But though she might be small-minded, she was not cruel. Outside the Church of Divine and Imperishable Justice, Somerton had stood at her side and defended her honor and because of it—and her own cunning plot to rid herself of Childress Smithe—he found himself in a bumble bath.

  The least she owed him for his trouble and his willingness to put it right was a measure of honesty.

  “I…” Willie scolded herself for sounding no more steady than Somerton looked. She drew in a breath, collecting her thoughts and because she refused to let him see that her hands were shaking, she busied herself untying the ribbon on her bonnet. She slipped the bonnet off and set it on the nearest table. “I couldn’t possibly,” she told him. “You see—”

  “Damn! Of course you couldn’t.” Somerton slapped one hand against his thigh and his mouth thinned in disgust, not at her but at himself. “That isn’t the way it’s supposed to be done. I realize that, of course. I wasn’t thinking.”

  Before she could tell him he had it all wrong, he grabbed her hand and held it between both of his own. “A man should be more sentimental when he’s broaching such a delicate subject, even in circumstances like these.” Somehow, he managed to disguise what he must certainly be feeling behind a charm so natural that had Willie been more naïve, she might actually have believed him.

  “I know this is sudden.” Somerton recognized the irony of the statement and added, “Hell, this entire situation is sudden. But…” He tightened his hold on her hand. “It would be an honor, of course. I said that before, didn’t I? You would make me the happiest man in the world if you would agree to be my wife.”

  “Don’t be absurd!” In spite of the serious nature of the situation, Willie could not keep from laughing. “You hardly know me.”

  “I know enough about you to know you would make a serviceable companion.” It seemed Somerton was not persuading her nearly as well as he was convincing himself. Hell-bent for leather, he barreled on. “In the short time I have known you, I have learned that you are determined and dutiful. I suspect you are conscientious and I know from your background and your upbringing that you most certainly must be honest, faithful, and loyal, as well.”

  All this fervent persuasion was beginning to make Willie feel light-headed.

  She twitched aside the thought and got back to the matter at hand. “Are you looking for a wife, sir? Or a dog?”

  “I’m sure you would keep the house running like clockwork,” he added, not missing a beat. “You’d keep the servants in line—if, indeed, we ever had servants again—and you’d keep the books in order and the silver counted and my social calendar shipshape and in Bristol fashion. I could use that. Someone to remind me of my social obligations!”

  “Ah, not a dog, then. You’re looking for a secretary! Or is it a housekeeper?”

  The absurdity of the situation completely escaped him. He continued to stare into her eyes, his expression nearly as earnest as she knew it to be false.

  It looked as if humor would not dissuade him. Something more serious was in order. Willie wiped the smile from her face.

  “And what of romance, then?” she asked. “You haven’t said a thing about it. How can you offer me marriage unless you can also offer me love?”

  Somerton stood as still as if her words had turned him to stone. “Very well.” His words came out like stones, too. Willie swore she could see them falling from his lips. Clearing his throat, he grimaced and dropped down on one knee.

  “Miss Culpepper, the sun that shines outside this very window shines no more brightly than on your face. The moon that dances across the night sky does not rise unless at your command. You are the light of my life, the rhythm of my heart. I pledge you my…” He clenched his teeth. “My love.”

  She had the most ridiculous urge to call his bluff and agree to the proposal.

  Willie dismissed the thought along with the tingle that sped up her spine when she looked into Somerton’s eyes. Tingling was not in her own best interests, she reminded herself. Nor was it in his.

  “And what of Ravensfield, then?” The question popped out of her before she could stop it. “What of the things he
said?”

  “Ravensfield?” For a second, Somerton allowed his skepticism to poke its head out from under the stifling wrappings of his romantic notions. He hauled himself to his feet. “What did Ravensfield say?”

  “He said you took far too many things far too seriously. Don’t you remember? He also said that love wasn’t one of them. He said you were never serious about love. And though I think there are things you and Ravensfield do not agree upon, something tells me this is not one of them.”

  Somerton tossed the objection aside. “Never before. It’s true. I never before have taken the notion of love seriously. But if you were to be my wife—”

  “If I were to be your wife…” Willie pulled her hand from his and stepped back, away from the maddening gleam in Somerton’s eyes and the little voice inside her own head that asked what it would be like to spend the rest of her life with him. It would be impossible, she reminded the voice. Impossible, infuriating, inconceivable. Even though there was a part of her that thought it might also be intriguing to wake up each morning with him beside her and to go to bed each night wrapped in his arms. Even though that same little voice and the pictures that flashed through her head reminded her of the way his naked body had been gilded by candlelight and of the way just looking at him made her feel.

  The thought caught her off guard, but Willie was too practical not to recognize it for the airy nothing it was. “We would not have a happy day between us,” she told him and reminded herself. “You would be only too eager to be away from me and would retreat to your club and gamble away your troubles. You would satisfy yourself with a variety of doxies who would sympathize with the true but very sad fact that you are shackled to a ginger-headed, bran-faced bluestocking.”

  Somerton looked genuinely hurt. “Do you think so little of me, then?”