Just Another Viscount in Love

by Vivienne Lorret

  Gemma eyed her aunt skeptically. “You’re one to talk. No doubt, in the space of this conversation, you’ve decided on the amount of lace you’d like for my wedding gown and planned my honeymoon trip to Bath.”

  “Which proves how little you know me, my dear. I was thinking of ruffles and Italy, of course.” Aunt Edith flashed her pearly teeth, her eyes brightening. “Oh, and should you and Lord Ellery have a daughter, the name Edith Charlotte has a nice ring to it. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “What a slugabed you’ve been this morning,” Aunt Edith scolded the following day, but with an undercurrent of amusement as Gemma leaned down to buss her cheek.

  In the upstairs parlor, Gemma slipped into a chair and arranged her blue muslin skirts. On the small table before her, a selection of scones, sliced meats, and coddled eggs awaited. She was famished and wanted to devour everything in sight. “Forgive me. I know we planned to go exploring today. Yet for some reason, I could not awaken. I slept so soundly that I did not even hear Berta come into my room to lay out this dress for me.”

  “Hmm . . . I wonder if, perhaps, we should put the blame on Lord Ellery. Clearly, he overexerted you with all that dancing last night, and I daresay that your face was as pink as Mrs. Selby’s punch.”

  “He did nothing of the sort,” Gemma said in Sam’s defense. Trying to tuck the perfect memories from last night away for safekeeping, she calmly laid a serviette over her lap. “My face was pinkened from too much sun. That is all.”

  Gemma did her best to ignore her aunt’s pleased grin and her own inner palpitations. Yet the memory of the dance was so fresh that she could still feel the warm press of Sam’s hand, the brush of his limbs against hers, and the lingering gazes that sent a cascade of tingles through her entire body. Gooseflesh rose on her arms as if every moment had been embedded into her skin and she would carry them with her always.

  She hadn’t wanted the night to end. By all appearances, neither had he.

  He’d danced two full sets with her and might have danced a third, if not for the rule that stated a gentleman could not dance three sets without declaring his intentions. Nevertheless, after the second set, he’d then invited her to join him in the courtyard—within full view of Aunt Edith, of course. And there, seated side by side on a low stone wall, they’d drunk the delicious punch that the innkeeper’s wife made and talked about how lovely the day had been, as if they both wanted to live it over and over again.

  Aunt Edith lifted the teapot and poured a cup for Gemma. “I never realized how many teeth you possessed until I saw you twirling around the assembly room on Lord Ellery’s arm.”

  “Is that your sly way of saying you caught me smiling at my dance partner? How scandalous.”

  “My dear, there are smiles, and then there are . . . smiles,” she said with a wealth of meaning and a lift of her penciled brows.

  Gemma carefully stirred honey into her tea. “What I did was allow myself a measure of enjoyment, knowing full well that was my first and last country dance in Banfern Glenn. After all, you remembered quite late to tell me that you’d sent a missive to Lady Donrolin the instant we arrived at the inn yesterday.”

  A most distressing truth.

  When she’d told Gemma the news, Aunt Edith had been certain that her friend would send for them straightaway. In fact, they’d journeyed to Surrey because of Lady Donrolin’s unflappable eagerness to see Edith.

  So many other supposed friends had cast her aside because she had not distanced herself from Albert Desmond’s daughter.

  Aunt Edith had been looking forward to this visit for some time. And, of course, Gemma was happy it would come to pass. She was not in the least bit disappointed that they were to leave Banfern Glenn just when it had become the most interesting place in the world. Not at all.

  Gemma swallowed, feeling the beginnings of a dull ache in the center of her chest. It sat there, pressing heavily upon her, as if she were beneath the collection of robust atlases in Cousin North’s library. Her appetite suddenly dimmed.

  Even though Lady Donrolin’s estate was also in Surrey and would likely be beautiful, Gemma doubted it had a pond surrounded by woodbine and a perfectly situated picnic hill. More important, it did not house a gentleman with clear blue eyes and an easy laugh.

  “It doesn’t necessarily have to be our last day in Banfern Glenn,” Aunt Edith said offhandedly as she added a dollop of clotted cream to her scone. Yet her words were edged with the unmistakable weight of disappointment, pulling all the syllables downward.

  Gemma had always possessed an unconscious ability to read a person’s gestures or hear the subtle shifts in a voice. And in the past months, she had become all too familiar with that particular tone.

  Alert at once, Gemma saw the faint spider web of wrinkles around Aunt Edith’s mouth, her lips pressed into a forced smile that did not reach her eyes.

  Something had happened. Looking for the answer, Gemma noticed the folded blue-tinted paper tucked beneath the edge of her aunt’s plate. “Is that a missive from Lady Donrolin?”

  Aunt Edith followed Gemma’s gaze. “It is. And happy news for us, I should think. Our schedule is free once again, giving us the opportunity to scamper about the countryside at will.”

  “Might I read it?” Gemma asked, sensing there was more than happy news.

  Aunt Edith’s pasted smile slipped. She lowered her spoon, the neck settling against the rim of the plate with an ominous clack. “Dearest, the only good this letter serves is to keep my plate from wobbling on an uneven table.”

  “Surely it can be no worse than the others I’ve read.”

  Seeing her determination, Aunt Edith offered a wary nod.

  Gemma withdrew the folded missive, expecting it to be like the others and full of excuses. An illness in the family, perhaps? A spontaneous holiday that would keep them away for an indeterminate amount of time? Or even having all the guest chambers redecorated at the once? Surprisingly, there had been two idiotic ninnies who’d used that excuse.

  But none of those reasons was present here. Lady Donrolin was far more direct.

  In unapologetic, decisive script, she cited that since her daughters were preparing for next Season in London, and given the fact that “a certain Miss Desmond” was Edith’s traveling companion, she could “no longer afford the association.” She also included a list of nunneries in France, known to accept the “less desirable” debutante.

  How helpful.

  “I see.” Gemma felt every vertebra of her back stiffen. She folded the missive and replaced it, none too gently, beneath Aunt Edith’s plate.

  All Gemma had wanted when she returned to London was a normal, quiet life. She didn’t want to cause a scandal wherever she went. Nor did she want to be the topic of conversation or have all of her actions dissected and examined for traces of evil. She just wanted to be happy and spend time with the family she’d been apart from for too long.

  Aunt Edith’s diminished social standing only worsened the remorse Gemma felt. Because of it, she’d vowed to do anything to ensure her aunt’s happiness. Even marry in order to change her name.

  “So what’s it to be then?” Aunt Edith dusted her hands together. “Shall we continue our nomadic holiday? Or, if you prefer, we could return to North and Ivy’s country house and await the arrival of the baby. After all, eight weeks can go by in a blink. At least some of the time, I’m sure.”

  There was no mistaking the faint red lines in her aunt’s eyes, or the trace of shimmering liquid along the rim of her lower lid. So Gemma weighed their options but with her aunt’s happiness foremost in her mind.

  However, before she could answer, a maid opened the outer door and dipped into a curtsy. “Lord Ellery, Your Grace.”

  Gemma’s heart stalled in her throat. She didn’t even have time to recover before Sam swept into the room.

  His gaze fixed on her instantly. Even from the distance of four or more steps, she could see the penumbra of
bright blue around his dark pupils. Being the sole focus of his attention, she felt hot, as if her body were submerged in this cup of tea, her blood flowing like hot honey through her veins. She could still feel him dancing with her, the press of his hand against the curve of her back . . .

  He removed his hat and bowed. “Your Grace. Miss Desmond. I pray you will forgive my bold intrusion this morning.”

  Since Gemma couldn’t seem to form any words or manage one full breath, she was thankful that Aunt Edith spoke. “You are more than welcome, Lord Ellery. We were just remarking on what a fine time we had last evening, for which we have you to thank.”

  “I was more than delighted to be of service,” he said, stepping further into the room, looking from Aunt Edith to Gemma. “In fact, that is the reason for my call yet again. I remembered from our conversation in the courtyard that you had no fixed plans for today.”

  Had she revealed that last night? Thinking back, Gemma recalled saying quite a lot of things, and none of them what she should have said. She’d taken Aunt Edith’s advice and kept the truth of her father from their conversation. Instead, she’d given in to an evening of enjoyment, knowing how fleeting it was meant to be.

  Now, however, it seemed she was faced with another opportunity to confess the truth. And it would guarantee that she would not see Sam again. The pleasant warmth she felt evaporated like steam, leaving her cold.

  “I am all eagerness to learn of your plan, Lord Ellery,” Aunt Edith said, her tone lifting upward in delight.

  Sam looked directly at Gemma. “I thought you might find it amenable to take a tour of the countryside.”

  “A heaven-sent invitation.” Aunt Edith clasped her hands over her heart and turned her beaming face to Gemma. “What do you think, my dear? Shall we allow ourselves one more day of utter enjoyment?”

  One more day. The words were as exhilarating as they were heartbreaking.

  Gemma knew she should refuse. Keeping this secret from him made her all the more greedy and selfish. Yet after the letter from Lady Donrolin, and being the cause of another severed relationship for Aunt Edith, how could Gemma add to her disappointment?

  One more day, Gemma thought. One more day and then no more.

  Decided, and before she lost her nerve, Gemma nodded.

  “What a splendid afternoon, Lord Ellery,” the Dowager Duchess of Vale said with a contented exhale, her parasol twirling at her shoulder as she faced their view of the vast rolling hills from their picturesque spot on Leith Hill. “How could you have known that my niece and I required this outing to lift us out of our doldrums?”

  Sam paused in the midst of packing up the picnic basket, his gaze on Gemma, who was on the other side of it, doing the same. “Until this moment, I had not known you’d needed rescuing.”

  He’d sensed nothing amiss during these past hours. They’d both seemed to greet the outing with the same fervor he felt, sharing lively conversation that lacked any of the awkwardness often present with a new acquaintanceship. It was comfortable and without the fuss of formality. At least, that’s what he’d assumed until now.

  “It is nothing,” Gemma said quickly, fitting both hands around the slender jar of punch he’d procured from Mrs. Selby as if her answer were trapped inside. She hesitated, her pupils receding to tiny points, making the green-blue of her irises look stark. Then, she lifted one delicate shoulder in a shrug. “Only that our future plans went . . . awry.”

  Standing in the middle of the clearing, the dowager duchess offered a discontented huff but did not elaborate on the matter.

  Curious, he looked again to Gemma, only to find her fumbling with the swollen cork stopper and getting the tip of her glove caught. He didn’t like the awkwardness that had suddenly risen up between them.

  “I’m sorry about your plans,” he said simply, extending his hand in a silent request for the jar. When she complied, he settled his hand gently over hers and felt the barest tremble rush through her. He wanted to ease the worry he saw in her shielded gaze, and he wanted to know what had gone awry. Yet he had the sense that she did not want to speak about the subject. If possible, Gemma seemed even more hesitant in nature and cautious than he was.

  Then, Gemma appeared to recover herself. The somberness he thought he’d witnessed slipped away from the tipped corners of her bow-shaped mouth, and the virescent shade of her eyes deepened once more. It must have been an aberration.

  “You are kind to say so,” she said quietly, “but my aunt and I are determined to continue our nomadic holiday and find enjoyment enough that all else is forgotten.”

  There, he thought, watching her closely. Did a tinge of sadness just cross her expression? “Is there something you wish to forget?”

  Her gaze darted up to his and widened slightly in surprise as if she’d revealed something that she hadn’t intended to do. He did his best to study every nuance of her expression, wanting to know everything about her. Already, he was prepared to slay whatever beast dared to make her feel anything but joy. The world needed the sound of her laugh and the sight of her smiles.

  She expelled a weighty sigh that settled in the air between them. “Let us not speak of wishes. Instead, tell us of Surrey and of all the places we must visit.”

  The last thing he wanted was to sour her to his company by pressuring her and ignoring her reluctance to speak on this topic. So instead, he thought of this as an opportunity to ease into knowing her better.

  “I have a better suggestion,” he said, the ready words spilling from his lips. Closing the lid on the basket, he clapped his hands together and chafed them with eagerness. “There is to be a lengthy party in a house not far from here. If you and your aunt were to attend, it promises to fulfill all of your expectations for enjoyment.”

  “Oh, we are quite in need of enjoyment.” The dowager duchess tilted her parasol and turned to him, her smile and brows lifted in expectation. A good sign, indeed.

  Gemma, however, eyed him with unquestionable skepticism. “By chance, is this party at Dunnock Park?”

  “Do you know the place?” He feigned shock and earned a smirk in return. “I can see that you hold doubts, but in truth, there will be three gentlemen and four young ladies with their chaperones arriving at my home tomorrow.”

  He stood and automatically breached the distance between them and settled his hand beneath her elbow, as if he’d been doing so for years. Normally, he was not so forward and should apologize. Yet when her delicate hand briefly squeezed his forearm as she straightened, it pleased him to imagine that she did not mind. The hardest part was letting her go.

  Gemma smoothed her skirts and looked askance at him. “And adding yourself to the list makes for a convenient number for a party—a gentleman for each lady.”

  At her summation, the dowager duchess made a tsking sound, and he felt as if he might have lost a bit of headway.

  He rallied quickly, however, adding a thoughtful nod for good measure. “True, but that is not to say that the addition of another young lady and her aunt would disturb the balance.”

  “How could it not?” Gemma shook her head, and when she pursed her lips, the bottom one looked so plump—so enthrallingly soft—that it begged to be kissed . . .

  He tore his gaze away and shook his head. Better not give in to distraction. This was too important.

  “At parties such as these,” he continued, “it is often that one guest does not wish to participate in certain activities, so it is always beneficial to have another on hand.”

  “You require a spare?” Gemma issued an amused scoff and looked over her shoulder to her aunt.

  “It is not entirely unheard of,” the dowager duchess said, offering a smile of apparent encouragement to Sam.

  Somehow, he managed to hold back his own grin as he nodded. “In fact, I usually keep one in the attic for such occasions. But with the summer being so hot, and the windows left open in the evenings . . . well, the bats have become a problem, chasing off my usual spare guest
. So you see, I absolutely must invite your parasol-wielding aunt. Of course, you’re welcome to attend as well.”

  Gemma smiled fully at him, her captivating eyes glinting as her laughter lit up the hill, brightening even the shady portions beneath the leafy canopy. Yes, he thought again, the world—his world—needed more of this. More of her.

  Gone was the mere desire to have her attend his party. Now, he was quite determined to make it happen.

  “I can see that I never should have told you that story.” She pressed her fingertips to her lips and turned to the dowager duchess. “I’m sorry, Aunt Edith, but you will be in high demand as a spare at all house parties.”

  The dowager duchess snickered quietly and closed her parasol. “It took the pair of us to capture the last one, so of course I will drag you with me. You have revealed our secret skill, and now we shall have no peace.”

  “Oh, but it is peaceful at Dunnock Park,” Sam offered, using any advantage he could. “Most mornings you can hear flower petals open; in the afternoons, the whisper of a breeze through the surrounding trees; and each evening, a cricket serenade.”

  “It sounds idyllic,” Gemma said dreamily, as if on the verge of accepting. Then—hang it all—she shook her head. “But we cannot attend.”

  “Whyever not?”

  “Because”—she swallowed—“because you have invited your friends, of whom we know none.”

  A paltry excuse. Why did it seem as if there was more to her reason than what she let on? “I do consider the gentlemen friends of mine. The ladies, however, I do not know as well.”

  Gemma included. But he planned to remedy that.

  “But why would you invite ladies with whom you share little—” She hesitated, her delicate dark brows lifting with curiosity and then lowering in understanding. “Ah. You mean to further an acquaintance with them. Perhaps even . . . for the purpose of marriage?”