Secrets of a Viscount

by Rose Gordon

  Giles shrugged. “Don’t have a choice.”

  “What do you mean you don’t have a choice?”

  “I must marry.”

  “Must?” Sebastian scoffed. “Nobody must marry.”

  “I must. Lord Cosgrove has demanded it.”

  “Lord Cosgrove?”

  Giles tapped his fingertips together. “He was one of my father’s closest friends and has control of my money. He says I won’t get any more unless I marry.”

  “He controls your money?”

  Giles nodded. “My father thought.” Giles swallowed. “He thought I wouldn’t be capable of running the barony so he set everything into a trust that Lord Cosgrove controls.”

  That certainly explained why Giles had grown up in Ireland and had no real interest in coming to London until very recently. “If your father didn’t think you were capable, then why is Lord Cosgrove so adamant that you marry.”

  “An heir.”

  Sebastian pondered how to ask what might be better left unspoken: if Giles wasn’t good enough for the old baron to raise as his son and not capable to run the barony then why did his male issue matter?

  As if reading his mind, Giles said, “The delivering physician said my condition wouldn’t pass down to my children.”

  “Did he say what makes him so certain of that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are there any conditions surrounding the wife you choose or just that you pick one?”

  Giles’ blank expression was his only response, sparking a glimmer of hope in Sebastian. Perhaps his earlier suggestion wouldn’t be met with as much opposition this time.

  “What of Belle?”

  “Belle?”

  “Isabelle Knight,” Sebastian clarified.

  Giles shook his head. “No, she’s taken.”

  Ah, so that’s who Giles had been speaking of earlier when he’d mentioned a female he’d been interested in but couldn’t pursue. “It might not be the easiest task you embark on, but if she’s willing to entertain Simon’s suit, then I don’t see why she couldn’t be persuaded to entertain your suit.”

  “No.”

  “No? Why the devil not? Do you think she’s really that taken with Simon?”

  “No.”

  “All right, then you can just woo her a little—I’ll even help you.”

  Giles blinked. “Why?”

  “Why what? Why help you or why her?”

  “Both.”

  “You’re both my friends and I think you’d be a good match for each other.”

  “No.”

  Sebastian refused to give into the temptation to groan. “Why not?”

  “She’s taken.”

  This time, Sebastian did groan. “No, she’s not. She’s only allowing Simon to pay her court because—”

  “Not him.”

  “Then who? Lord Kenton?” he said with a snort of disbelief.

  “No. You.”

  ***

  Sebastian couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that had settled over him the second Giles had made his final statement the night before. Belle was not his. They might be married, but she wasn’t his. Sighing, he rolled out of the bed he’d occupied in the gamekeeper’s cottage and scrubbed his fingers over his face. With any luck he’d be able to spot Belle and Simon playing lawn games or some such nonsense and get a better idea of what was going on between them. Giles might have some misguided notion that Belle belonged to Sebastian, but it was quite clear he was the only one who felt that way, and if Belle wanted to pursue a courtship with and possibly a marriage to Simon, he’d do what he could to help her succeed.

  Luck might not have been in his favor when it came to receiving an official invitation to the party, but he’d been quite fortunate when he’d happened upon Belle and Simon selecting mallets for pall mall.

  “I think I’d like the red one this time,” Belle said.

  Sebastian pressed up against the side of the shed and craned his neck so he could hear better.

  “Here you are,” Simon said. “I shall take the blue. No, the green.” Wood tapped together, presumably from Simon putting the blue one back on the rack and taking the green.

  “Thank you,” Belle murmured.

  From the corner of his eye, Sebastian could see the firm line of her lips. Was she upset already? Why?

  “We’ll play bowls later,” Simon said, a hint of apology in his tone.

  “It’s all right. I understand.”

  Simon drummed his fingers against the wood of either the handle of his pall mall mallet or the wooden rack. Sebastian didn’t know which and it wasn’t important enough for him to chance being seen to peek.

  “This was a bad idea,” Simon said at last with a sigh. “I should have known better and just stayed in London to court you there.” He sighed again. “I just thought—”

  Sebastian desperately wished he could see the expressions on their faces.

  “It’s all right,” Belle repeated. “Are you ready to play?”

  Sebastian’s heart constricted. She was really trying. It was her oaf of a suitor who wasn’t worthy. Sebastian started and thrust the thought away immediately. It wasn’t his place to decide who was worthy of her—even if he felt Simon wasn’t. It was her decision and her choice could have been far worse, to be sure. Simon wasn’t a bad sort from what he’d heard of the man. He was just distracted. With the right action Belle could steal his attention. Then, they all could move forward with their lives. Yes, all she needed was some advice and now that he knew exactly what was going on between them—which really wasn’t so bad, Simon was just preoccupied with wanting to avoid Giles—Sebastian could give her advice to hold his attention no matter who was around.

  Pleased with his new strategy of how to help her, Sebastian slinked away to wait for darkness when he could go see Belle again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Isabelle seriously considered begging Mrs. Finch to take her back to London. If she had to play one more game of pall mall, that’s exactly what she’d do. Three days. Yes, three days straight they’d had to play that blasted game. Once was all right, twice was tedious, thrice was exhausting and if it came to a fourth time, she just might do herself in!

  “Did you win?”

  Every muscle in Isabelle’s body clenched. She should have locked her window! Slowly, she turned to face her handsome intruder. “Actually, I did.”

  “I’d offer you my felicitations—” Sebastian let himself in and closed the window with a snap— “but I don’t think you really won. I think Giles’ did and he wasn’t even there.”

  Isabelle scowled. “How do you even know?”

  “I saw you two.”

  “I see. So you no longer just climb into my room, you’ve taken to spying on me in the daytime, too?”

  “For good reason.” Sebastian sagged against the wall and swept her with his gaze.

  She suddenly felt naked, keenly aware that she was wearing only her wrapper. She crossed her arms over her chest. Though why she bothered, she didn’t know. It would seem that Sebastian was making a habit of seeing her in scandalous states of undress. “What do you want?”

  “To help you.” He cleared his throat. “I think he’s sincere with his motives, Belle. He’s just distracted.”

  She frowned at him. “I told you that before.” But evidently he hadn’t believed her.

  “You just need to be more attractive than the distraction.”

  “Why thank you, Sebastian. I’m so glad you told me that,” she said sarcastically. “If only I’d known...”

  “Ah, that’s the Belle I know!” He pushed off from where he was leaning against the wall and made his way to her bed. “Come join me.”

  “I think not.”

  He shrugged and took a seat on the edge. “Soft.”

  “You’re not staying. You can go back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”

  Chuckling, he said, “I think you just need to flirt with the man.”

&
nbsp; “I’ve tried.”

  “Tried? You can’t try to flirt. You either do it or you don’t.”

  “I do.”

  “Come show me.”

  “Absolutely not!”

  “Belle, I just asked you to show me how you flirt, I didn’t demand you share your bed with me—though in a literal sense, I would be ever thankful.”

  “That won’t be happening.” She narrowed her eyes on him and his giant grin. “Either request.”

  “All right. If you won’t show me how you’ve been flirting. I’ll show you how you should be flirting.”

  Isabelle half-groaned, half-giggled—quite an odd combination, to be sure. “And how do you know how a woman should flirt?”

  He gave her a queer look. “I am a man.”

  She blushed. Well, yes he was a man, but that didn’t mean he was an expert when it came to the attraction between the two sexes, did it? “That might be how you like to be flirted with, Simon might prefer differently,” she pointed out.

  He continued to stare at her as if she were cracked. “This will work—no matter who the chap is.”

  Even you? She started. Why had she thought that?

  “The first thing you need to do is smile more.”

  “I do. I smile quite a lot, actually.”

  “Not that I’ve seen,” he said with a dubious look. “When I saw you today, your lips were pressed together into a line straighter than one of your father’s arrows. Now, tomorrow you can’t do that. You need to smile.”

  “All right. I’ll smile more,” she mumbled.

  “Try it.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “I said, try it. I think you need to practice so I can help you.”

  “Help me smile?” she said in disbelief. “Do you intend to come hold my lips in proper position, then?”

  “If I must. Now, smile.”

  “If I do, will you leave?”

  “No, not until I’m satisfied. Now, give it a try.”

  Feeling every bit the fool, Isabelle stretched her lips into the widest, fullest smile she could.

  “Excellent grimace, now, let’s try a smile this time.”

  Isabelle relaxed her face and let out a shaky laugh. “I cannot smile if there’s no reason to.”

  “Then you’re going to have a very difficult time obtaining your Mr. Appleton’s attention.” He stood and walked over to her.

  “What are you doing?”

  A slow, wolfish grin split his face. “I know how to get you to smile.”

  Isabelle took a step back and tightened her hold on herself. There was a gleam in his eyes she almost didn’t recognize. “What are you doing?”

  “If I recall correctly—” he took another step toward her— “you’re very ticklish.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  “Then smile,” he murmured, taking another step toward her.

  Isabelle took a step backward and collided with the wall. Drat! She extended her right hand toward him to keep at a distance. “All right, all right, I’ll smile.” She forced another smile.

  “That’s not good enough.” He reached for her hand, taking another step toward her, bringing their bodies mere inches apart.

  Her breath caught and her stilted smile vanished. “Take a step back, please.”

  He didn’t budge.

  She swallowed. “Sebastian, please.”

  Something passed over his face. Something quick and heated. Something she didn’t recognize. “All right, try again,” he said raggedly, taking a half-step back.

  She tried again, but it was useless. Her lips had suddenly turned to stone for her cheeks couldn’t pull them apart. “You’re making me nervous.”

  He released her hand and took another step back, leaving her further distracted by his sudden absence.

  She blinked off the thought and tried again to smile.

  “Better, but a little less—” he stretched his lips into something similar to a snarl— “and a little more this—” He relaxed his facial muscles just enough to allow his lips to fall into a nice frame around his white teeth without showing so much of his gums. “See the difference?”

  She nodded. Many things might have changed about Sebastian since they were children, but his wide, boyish smile hadn’t. “I’ll try again.” She tried again.

  “Almost,” he murmured, bringing his hands up to cup her face. “Just a little more.”

  Isabelle stood frozen as his gentle thumbs moved her lips a little wider into what he’d consider a perfect smile. She was an idiot. A complete idiot. What was she doing?

  “Just like that.”

  “All right.” She batted at his wrists until he removed his hands. “I think I have it now. You may go.”

  “Belle?”

  Isabelle swallowed and crossed her arms. “I think I have it,” she repeated, stretching her lips into the same position he’d just had them.

  “Indeed you do, now for the next step.”

  “The next step? What is this a performance?”

  “Of sorts, yes. You have a very beautiful smile, Belle, but that alone won’t win his attention. You need to also—”

  “Flirt,” she cut in, flushing. “Yes, I remember that part. I’ll be sure to rap him on the knuckles with my fan at dinner and bat my lashes at him enough that we can all be sure there’s no bug taking up residence under my eyelids.”

  “And giggle,” he added with a wink.

  “That won’t be happening.”

  “Why not?”

  “Forced giggling is absolutely the worst form of flirtation.”

  “Then you’d better find Simon to be talented of the comic arts because gentlemen enjoy that sort of thing.”

  Isabelle grinned. “Oh, so then you did enjoy sitting next to Lady Mary at Lady Norcourt’s dinner.”

  “No. But that smile right there, that’s the one that will steal his heart.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  As much as Isabelle hated to ever admit such a thing, Sebastian was right. The only real option open to her right now was to attract Simon with her female wiles enough to distract him from his dislike for Giles.

  How absurd!

  Even a week ago had someone told her she’d be the one falling all over herself to capture Simon’s attention and not the reverse, she’d have laughed. Now, she wasn’t laughing. No, she was sporting what she hoped would be her best grin.

  She’d stayed up half the night looking at her reflection in the mirror and practicing her smile and batting her lashes. She was truly going mad. There was no other way to describe this idiocy.

  “Good morning, Mr. Appleton,” she greeted, coming into the breakfast room.

  Simon’s head snapped up. “Isabelle,” he breathed. He swallowed convulsively just as she’d hoped he would upon seeing her in her red brocade dress and sophisticated upsweep. He rushed to the sideboard and helped her fill her plate. “You look quite lovely this morning.”

  “Thank you, but I’m sure you say that to all the young ladies.” Was that considered a flirtatious statement or asking for trouble? She really wasn’t sure.

  “I might say it, but I only mean it when I say it to you. You are undoubtedly the most beautiful creature here.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to flatter me,” she cooed, batting her lashes up at him.

  “Of course I do. I owe it to you.”

  “Owe?”

  He nodded slowly. “I’ve been dreadfully inattentive to you and your needs these past few days and if we’re to marry, I need to make a better impression, wouldn’t you say?”

  She offered him her best attempt at a sweet smile. It was all she could do.

  “Let’s sit at the far end.”

  Isabelle followed him down to the end of the table and took the seat he’d indicated.

  Breakfast was tolerable. As promised, Simon had been far more attentive to her than he had been over the past few days. Then again, Giles was nowhere to be found.

  “Shall we play b
owls?”

  “I’d love to,” Isabelle said, silently adding, but only if we get to play the whole game this time. She bit the inside of her mouth. She needed to be more understanding. Truly, how would she feel if she were in his position?

  “Would you like me to show you how?”

  “Oh, that’s all right, I know how to play.” She took the bowl from him and walked up to the little strip of wood that designated where the bowler stood and rolled her bowl down toward the waiting white ball known as the jack.

  “Very good,” Simon commented, coming to stand next to her and watch her bowl roll straight for the jack.

  Her bowl veered slightly to the left and rolled right past the jack. “Oh drat!” she said with a snap of her fingers.

  Chuckling, Simon picked up his bowl and rolled it toward the jack.

  It stopped within inches of his target.

  “Would you like to know my trick?”

  Isabelle opened her mouth to refuse. There weren’t any tricks to bowls, but right before she could refuse, she caught a glimpse of Sebastian hiding on the other side of a large shrub; he was nodding his head wildly.

  She turned to face Simon and batted her eyelashes at him. “Yes, I’d love to know all of your tricks, sir,” she purred sweetly, smiling.

  He grinned, but not in a way that would suggest he was flattered. If she didn’t know any better, she’d think he was laughing at her!

  “Let me retrieve our bowls,” he murmured. A moment later he came back with one large bowl balanced in each hand. He flashed her a smile, then his attention caught on something beyond her left shoulder.

  Tension coiled inside Isabelle. Had he just seen Sebastian? Slowly, she cast a glance in the direction Simon had just been looking and saw Edmund leaning against a tree smoking a cheroot.

  A dull ache built in her chest. She needed to talk to him. Even if Mrs. Finch didn’t think he was a worthy match for her, she needed to explain her situation with Simon to him. He’d been so kind to her over the years, it was the least he deserved. He removed his cheroot from his mouth and gave her a slight nod, then walked off.