Regency Rakes 02 - Rescued By A Viscount

by Wendy Vella

  “Dear god,” he said again, however this time it was a hoarse whisper.

  “I will marry your sister as soon as can be arranged,” Simon said, making sure the man understood his claim on Claire.

  “Should I ask why?” Suddenly, Mathew Belmont was a brother. His eyes narrowed as he glared at Simon, who was glad to see evidence of emotion because it meant he cared.

  “No.”

  Neither man looked away until finally Mathew said. “I could not have chosen better for her, Lord Kelkirk. Thank you.”

  Simon had thought about this conversation on the way to London, and he believed it was time to rid this family of their secrets. Only then would they start to heal the wounds left by their brother’s death and the years of misunderstandings and indifference. He hoped Claire would understand why he was doing it and forgive him. Simon knew the importance of family, and deep inside, he suspected Claire did, too. “Did you know your sister doesn’t sleep, Belmont? That she walks these halls for hours until dawn? She has not slept well since Anthony’s death.”

  “Anthony once mentioned it to me. However I did not ask Claire until recently if she still suffered, and she did not give me an answer.”

  “She rigidly controls everything else in her life because only then can she get through each day.”

  “How do you know these things?” Once again, his eyes were narrowed, and he had half risen from his chair.

  “A little late now for brotherly concern, don’t you think, Belmont? And how I found out is not the concern, only that I did.”

  Belmont sank back into his chair. “She has been looking tired lately.”

  “Perhaps if you had looked a little further than the end of your nose, you would have seen how much she needed you,” Simon snapped.

  Simon vowed then and there that he would never treat Claire so carelessly. Their marriage would not be starting under ideal circumstances, but then neither had Eva and Daniel’s, and look at them. She would know she had a husband who cared for her, Simon vowed.

  “Why didn’t she tell me?” Mathew Belmont whispered. “I would have helped her.”

  “You’ll need to ask your sister that, Belmont, because right now I want to discuss our wedding.”

  Louis smiled as Claire entered the kitchens. He was sitting on a bench and had two maids and Plimley dancing attendance on him, all trying to get him to talk by tempting him with cake.

  “Thank you all for looking after Louis.”

  “Tis our pleasure, Miss Belmont. He’s a sweet little boy.”

  “Thank you, Plimley. Yes he is.”

  Lifting Louis down, Claire saw the questions in the eyes of the maids and butler, and she knew there would be talk soon. Squaring her shoulders, she took her nephew’s hand and made her way back upstairs.

  Claire’s ride to London had left her muscles aching and her head a mass of turbulent thoughts. She had hoped the time alone would give her clarity, yet she was more conflicted than ever. She loved Simon–there was no doubt in her mind about that–and the thought of marrying him was a dream she knew with only a few words she could put into reality. But did he really wish to marry her? He’d said he did and she wanted to believe him. They needed to talk alone so she could be sure his insistence was not motivated by honor.

  “We are seeing Simon?”

  “Yes, Louis, we will see Simon.” She squeezed his hand gently.

  Her interview with Mathew had started well enough, with him showing concern over her early return and asking what had occurred. Then things had steadily grown worse as she’d explained where she had been. Simon had arrived when Mathew had started yelling, and his words had warmed her. He had said her heart was bigger than any he knew and that she was brave and beautiful.

  Approaching her brother’s study, she heard only the rumble of male voices, yet no yelling. Surely that was a good thing? Leading Louis in, she found her brother and Simon seated, conversing with each other over Mathew’s desk. Simon rose and came to her as she approached.

  “Have you eaten all the food in the kitchens, Louis?”

  The boy flashed a small smile and nodded.

  “I will surely have to seek employment to keep my pantry stocked, then.”

  “Dear Christ, he is the image of Anthony as a child, Claire.” The words were a hoarse whisper from behind Simon. Claire picked up Louis and held him close.

  “Introduce Louis to his uncle, Claire.” Simon brushed her cheek with a warm hand as he spoke, and she wanted to lean into him and feel his strength. “He will not hurt either of you, and if he does, I will kill him.”

  The words were spoken in jest, yet Claire knew if Mathew said or did anything Simon did not like, then he would make the man pay, and it was that knowledge that gave her the strength to leave his side and face her brother.

  “Louis, say hello to your uncle.”

  Mathew came to meet Claire as she moved around the desk. “His eyes are identical.” The wonder in Mathew’s words mirrored those of Claire’s when first she’d met the boy. “It is as if Anthony is here in this room with us.”

  Louis let Mathew place a hand on his head as her brother came to terms with what was before him. She saw that his fingers shook as he slid them down one soft cheek and cupped Louis’s chin. “Will you ever forgive me for my ignorance, Claire? For nearly losing him and the chance to let Anthony’s legacy live on in our lives?”

  It was the tear that rolled down his cheek that undid her. Her strong brother, the man who seemed to need no one or nothing, was crying. “I only said what I did to protect you and mother. I never truly thought a child existed, Claire. I need you to believe that.”

  “Mathew, we have a nephew,” was all Claire said as she leaned into him with Louis. “He’s ours to love, brother, and it is my belief that he has not had much love in his past, so we have much to make up for.”

  She felt his arms wrap around them, and his cheek rested on top of her head. “I will make it up to you, Claire—to both of you,” he vowed.

  “There is nothing to make up, Mathew. We start with our future now—today. The past, we leave behind.”

  She felt his lips in her hair. “Yes, Claire, we start to live today.”

  Sniffing, Claire stood once more. “He speaks only French, Mathew, so we have much to teach him.”

  “Hello, Louis,” Mathew said in faultless French.

  “Hello,” Louis replied in his gruff little voice.

  “How old is he?”

  “Six, we believe,” Simon said, coming to her side.

  “Will you let your new uncle hold you, Louis?” Claire questioned her nephew.

  “Do you have food in your drawers, Belmont?”

  Looking puzzled, Mathew went to his drawers and opened one. He found a small twist of paper containing toffee, which Claire knew was his weakness.

  “Your uncle has food, Louis.” Simon said and laughed as the boy held out his arms towards Mathew. “He has a ferocious appetite.”

  They watched Mathew hold the boy gently, settling into his chair as he opened the paper and fed the sweets to him one at a time. “You should have told me about your sleep problems, sister.”

  Claire looked from Simon to Mathew, then back to Simon. “You told him?”

  “You should have told him long ago, Claire. This was not a burden you needed to carry alone.”

  “It was my problem. You had no right to tell him, Simon.” Claire said as she felt her old uncertainties rise.

  “Why did you not tell your brother, Claire? Did you think it would make you weak in his eyes?” Claire tried to look away from the grey eyes before her, but Simon held her chin. “You are not weak, Claire. You are strong. What you have just done shows that. To heal the divide in your family, there must only be the truth now.”

  She didn’t respond. Was he right? Should she have told Mathew and even her mother?

  “You are no longer alone, love. I am here, but so are your family if you reach out to them.”

  Lo
oking up at him, Claire knew she had to tell him how much she loved him.

  “I’m sorry, sister, for your loneliness. I would have stayed awake with you, had you given me the chance.” Mathew’s words were softly spoken, yet Claire heard them. “You are my sister, Claire, and I have loved you since the day you were born. To my lasting shame, I did not know you were unaware of that fact until now.”

  “And I, Mathew, love you also.”

  Claire could see the pride in Simon’s eyes as she and Mathew told each other what they should have many years ago. So much emotion rolled around inside her, she had to tell Simon how she felt about him right now, because he was correct; she could no longer hide herself behind the façade that had been Claire Belmont.

  “Simon, I’m about to tell you something because I want you to know it, not because I expect you to act on it.”

  He wrapped one hand around her waist and pulled her slowly closer.

  “My brother and nephew are in the room,” Claire whispered.

  “And are absorbed in each other. However, you had better be quick, as I fear Louis’s absorption will stop with the end of your brother’s toffee.”

  “These last few days, Simon, I’ve come to realize something.” Claire felt the words suddenly stick in her throat.

  “Just say the words, Claire.”

  “What words?”

  “The words.”

  Her eyes held his for long seconds. “I don’t know how it happened, Simon.”

  “How what happened?” He knew, she could tell by the twinkle in his eyes, but he was not about to make it easy on her.

  “We’ve known each other for so long, and sometimes we could not even tolerate each other’s company.”

  “In fairness, it was always you who could not tolerate my company,” he said.

  “I was insufferable, Simon. I’m sorry.” Claire realized she had treated him badly over the years, and he deserved an apology from her.

  “For the love of god, woman, will you just tell me.”

  “Tell you what?” Claire said, trying to keep her expression innocent and give him back a bit of what he had given her.

  “Claire.”

  “I love you, Simon, so very much,” she said in a rush. “But I will not hold–”

  His lips were hard on hers as he stopped her words, and Claire resisted for a second before melting against him. “I love you, too, Claire Belmont, forever and always. Now tell me you will be my wife.”

  “I’ll be your wife, my love, as soon as we can arrange it.”

  “Tomorrow,” he whispered. “I want to wake with you in my arms every morning from that day forth.”

  Claire gave him that soft smile she had seen Eva give Daniel. The smile that spoke of love and hidden secrets only she and Simon would share for the rest of their lives.

  EPILOGUE

  “I cannot believe you coerced my butler into your household, Claire.”

  Laughing, Claire hugged her brother, who returned the gesture freely. “Plimley loves me, Mathew. What can I add to that except the better Belmont won?”

  “And I love you, too, sister.”

  Standing on her toes, Claire kissed his cheek loudly. “And I you, brother.”

  Releasing him, she walked around the room slowly, making her way to Simon.

  A fire blazed in the hearth as outside snow blanketed the ground. This was their first Christmas as husband and wife, surrounded by their family and friends. They were all here. Daniel and Eva had brought Daniel’s grandmother who for the most part was behaving herself. Claire’s mother and brother were here, as were Simon’s aunt and uncle. Louis lay on the floor beside the fire, pulling faces at Georgia, who gurgled back at him. He was a different boy from the solemn one of a few months ago. He laughed and chattered now, and was loved by all who met him. But it was Simon and Claire he turned to when hurt or upset. He was their boy, and Claire knew he would be a wonderful older brother to their children when the time came.

  Marriage was a revelation to Claire. Simon wasn’t a passive husband. He liked to talk to her, know what she was reading or thinking, and involve her in his day. He laughed loudly, sang off key, kissed and hugged her continuously, no matter where they were, and never since the day he’d declared his love to her had she doubted him. He was quite simply the most wonderful man she had ever known, and his love had changed her. She was now demonstrative. She, too, sang off key and danced with him in the dining parlor or garden if the mood struck. Just looking at him made something inside her go soft, and the feeling of belonging body and soul to another being filled her with joy. She’d existed before he came into her life; now she lived.

  “I can tell by the faraway look in your eyes you’re thinking about something important, my love. Care to share your thoughts?”

  Claire lifted her face for the kiss she knew would follow those words. It was soft and sweet and left her tingling all over. Slipping an arm around his waist, she rested against him. “I was just wondering how I lived each day without you.” She felt his lips in her hair as his arms tightened around her. “I existed, Simon, nothing more, before you. It is you that have taught me how to live and love.”

  “But there you have it wrong, love. It is you that have taught me. I wake each day with you on my chest and wonder how I could have woken alone for so many years. With you, I am the man I want to be, Claire–your husband and Louis’s father, but more importantly, the man who loves you to the soles of his large feet.”

  Claire didn’t brush aside her tears as she would have. Simon loved her tears, especially if they were tears of joy. Looking up into his eyes, she smiled at her beautiful man. “Forever and always, my love.”

  THE END.

  Thank you!

  Thanks so much for reading Rescued By A Viscount

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  • If you want to read Daniel and Eva’s story too, then here’s a sneak peek at Duchess By Chance – (Regency Rakes – Book 1)

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  CHAPTER ONE

  Bedfordshire, England - 1812

  Had the seventh Duke of Stratton the ability to choose the weather, he could not have matched his mood better than with the relentless fall of rain and grey gloomy skies that met his eye as he stared out the carriage window.

  “Will we arrive soon, your Grace?”

  Daniel was surprised to hear his wife’s voice, as they had not spoken since the journey began hours ago. Unclenching his fists, he drew in a deep, bracing breath, then looked at the carriage’s only other occupant.

  “Under two hours.” His tone was cold and clipped.

  She, too, looked out the window, her ugly black bonnet obscuring most of her pale face. Daniel actually had only a vague idea what she looked like as she had kept her head lowered ever since their first meeting at their wedding ceremony four hours ago. Her eyes were possibly blue…or green. He had only spared her a fleeting glance during the service. Her hair was stuffed inside the bonnet so it could be white as snow or flaming red for all he knew. And her dress, although he was not an expert in ladies’ fashion, was a drab brown with no shape, worn underneath a coat that had elbow patches on sleeves that began five inches above her skinny writs. At least he could never forget her name, although God knew he wanted to. Berengaria Evangeline Augusta Winchcomb. It was a cruel twist of fate that he, the Duke of Stratton - one of the most eligible peers of the realm - was now married to a timid mouse who jumped every time he made a sound.

  “Is there a problem?” he queried as she sighed, her breath forming a small white circle on the glass pane before her.

  “No, your Grace.”

  Wife, he thought in disgust. Lord, how he hated her bloody heathen family. But most of all, he reserved a special seet
hing rage for his own father and prayed daily the man was now residing in the hottest part of hell with Lucifer himself as a roommate.

  “I…I, um…”

  “Yes?” Daniel kept his eyes on the window as she stuttered. If she didn’t have the decency to look at him when she spoke, then neither did he.

  “Tis nothing, your Grace.”

  “It obviously is something, madam.”

  He watched her reflection in the glass as her grey, gloved hands curled into tight fists in her lap, but still she kept her eyes averted.

  “I have need of a rest break, your Grace.”

  Looking at the landscape, Daniel searched for a landmark. “There is a small inn ten minutes from here. We will stop there.”

  “Thank you.”

  Daniel fought the cold knot of fury in his chest and the sudden urge to roar something foul at her. He was not his father and never would be; he kept his temper firmly leashed.

  Spencer Winchcomb had tied him neatly to his only daughter, binding the contract so tight; Daniel would never have been able to escape even if he’d known of his impending doom before his father’s death. Well, now they had a title in their family but that was all they would get; he refused to have anything further to do with any of them, including his wife.

  His friends had laughed when he’d told them he was leaving London during the height of the season to get married. No one had believed him - and indeed why would they have? Daniel had had trouble believing it himself.

  “I have arranged for you to marry Miss Winchcomb.”

  Daniel could still hear his father’s words echoing in his head. He had loathed his sire since he was old enough to realize the man who conceived him was a monster. The old duke had been a tyrant who had never bothered much with his only child unless it was to mete out punishment. Theirs had not been a relationship based on the bonds of love; they had basically ignored each other until the Duke of Stratton had summoned his son to his bedside to say his final farewell before he departed these fair if slightly chilly lands for the glories of heaven. Or, as Daniel now liked to believe, the eternal fires of hell.