To Wed A Viscount

by Adrienne Basso

  “To London?” Faith’s mind began racing. It would be wonderful to get away for a few days or even a week. A true escape. There was little that could be accomplished here, now that Griffin had refused to consider her situation. Time away might give her a better perspective. Lord knows, her troubles would still be here waiting when she returned. “But I have nothing packed.”

  “We can make a quick stop back at the manor,” Meredith improvised. “You only need to bring the barest of necessities. We shall enjoy the sights, including the lovely shops on Bond street. It shall be a grand adventure. Oh, do say you’ll come to town.”

  “Do I dare?” Faith’s eyes twinkled with excitement, but then her face darkened and she turned away. “The season has already begun. I know you have many social obligations. I would only be a burden and feel guilty about depriving you of society.”

  “My goodness, you of all people should know how I feel about attending society functions. They are deadly boring, every last one of them.” A wicked gleam of mischief entered Meredith’s blue eyes. “It would be difficult to secure invitations to the more select gatherings at this late date, yet if you have a mind, I’m sure we can devise a way to sneak you into a ball or two.”

  “Meredith! I couldn’t.”

  “Why not? These events are generally such a crush no hostess is ever certain exactly who is in attendance. With my parents out of the country, Great-Aunt Agatha acts as my chaperon. She is a dear but prefers to eat heartily from the buffet and then snore quietly in a corner until it is time to leave. She would probably be pleased that I have a female companion who enjoys strolling about the ballroom.”

  “I suppose I could come to town,” Faith said slowly. “And perhaps attend a function or two.” At the sight of Merry’s beaming face, Faith quickly added, “Nothing too fancy, however. I certainly don’t want to meet the creme de la creme of society. Just a few of the more colorful personages will be sufficient.”

  Meredith agreed with a short, eager nod. “We shall sort through the invitations the moment we arrive home. With a bit of persuasion, I’m certain I can have my modiste complete a new gown for you in a few days. By then we will have determined which events hold the most interest and appeal.”

  Faith cleared her throat, suddenly feeling nervous. It was such a rash, impulsive act. Yet she realized this might be the only chance she would ever get to witness the ton in action. Even if they stayed on the fringes of society it would be fascinating. And given Meredith’s horror of scandal, there would be little chance of anything truly disastrous happening.

  “All right. I’ll come.”

  “Splendid.” Meredith smiled with approval. “We shall make a brief stop at Mayfair Manor to allow you time to pack a bag and alert the servants of your whereabouts. I have an excellent coachman. If we depart within the hour we can still reach town before nightfall.”

  “Wonderful,” Faith replied, pressing her hand against her midsection, attempting to still the fluttering in her stomach.

  “While we are in town, we shall also make an appointment with Papa’s solicitor,” Meredith decided. “There has got to be a way for you to keep Mayfair Manor that doesn’t involve the odious Viscount Dewhurst.”

  Faith nodded her head mutely. She would agree to see the solicitor only to please Meredith. In her heart, she held out no hope of retaining control of her childhood home.

  Yet, as much as that notion hurt, the greater distress came from knowing that despite his treatment of her, Faith had not found the current Viscount Dewhurst to be the least bit odious.

  Four

  “You say the most charming things, Lord Dewhurst.” The sleek, elegant feminine fingers trailed suggestively up Griffin’s arm, coming to rest upon his shoulder. “Though there are some who speak ill of your character. Are you truly as naughty as I’ve heard?”

  “Guilty as charged, Lady Ashborrow.” The answer sprang readily to Griffin’s lips, but the usual smile did not. Then the viscount’s gaze narrowed as he took a deliberate step away from the clinging woman.

  He was not in a congenial mood, and his reaction to this delectable female morsel was proof of it. Lady Ashborrow had latched on to him within ten minutes of entering the ballroom by skillfully wangling an introduction from a casual mutual acquaintance, and she had not left his side in the ensuing hour.

  The busty brunette was the type of woman Griffin had always preferred—mature, married, direct, experienced, and utterly lovely. Yet even her obvious interest could not dispel the gloom that clung to him this evening like a wet, misty rain.

  “I can hear the musicians taking up their instruments,” Lady Ashborrow hinted broadly. “I wonder if they shall open this set with a waltz?”

  “ ’Tis the usual choice.” The corners of Griffin’s mouth lifted in grim amusement. “Regretfully, a prior engagement prevents me from joining in the dancing this evening.”

  “If you wish to forsake the dance floor, we could take a stroll in the gardens. ’Tis a lovely evening. I noticed the moon was full.” Lady Ashborrow deliberately leaned forward, displaying an ample view of her magnificent bosom. “The night flowers should be in bloom. Their fragrance can be most intoxicating.”

  Only mild interest stirred inside Griffin. His gaze flickered briefly over the woman by his side before becoming fixed on the opposite end of the massive ballroom. He remained silent and preoccupied while his keen eyes searched among the many guests for the one woman he feared was not in attendance.

  Damn it all. Where the devil is she? Accepting defeat, Griffin turned to his companion. “I’m afraid I must take my leave of you, Lady Ashborrow. I am expected at another affair and have already stayed far longer than I intended.”

  Lady Ashborrow stiffened, but her artful smile remained intact. “Perhaps another time,” she suggested in a calm tone.

  “I shall count on it, my lady,” the viscount replied smoothly. He lingered overlong as he kissed her hand, a silent apology for his inattentive behavior.

  To her credit, Lady Ashborrow appeared not to hold a grudge. She gave him a final, saucy wink, snapped open her fan, and sailed majestically across the ballroom floor.

  Griffin’s earlier disinterest turned to regret But he knew there was no time to be wasted on a dalliance. He had already completed his task at this ball and the night grew long. It was time to move ahead.

  After a brief good-bye to his host and hostess, the viscount was once again seated inside his carriage, tapping his fingers impatiently against his knee as the coachman tried to negotiate the crowded London streets.

  Griffin had been scouring London for the past five days, searching in vain for Faith, intent on settling once and for all the extent of her involvement with his brother.

  That he had managed to discover that she had gone to London was a minor miracle in itself, considering how close-mouthed her servants had been when asked about her whereabouts. Even the appearance of a gold sovereign had failed to interest any of them in supplying him with their mistress’s direction.

  It was only through sheer luck and the blossoming romance of his undergroom with a dairymaid employed at Mayfair Manor that Griffin was able to discover Faith had flown off to London with her dear friend, Lady Meredith.

  Unfortunately, the dairymaid had only been able to supply the name of Lady Meredith. Nothing more. He vaguely remembered Faith’s close friend from childhood days, a long-legged blonde who enjoyed scolding him, yet he too could not recall her given name, nor her father’s title.

  Still, the viscount had journeyed to town anyway, naively assuming it wouldn’t be difficult to find the women. Unfortunately he had been wrong. Though the members of society were a closely held group, there were quite a few of them and it was not a simple task to discover the whereabouts of two women with the limited information he possessed.

  Having lived outside of England for many years left Griffin bereft of friends or even good acquaintances he could turn to for assistance in this most delicate matter. He was th
erefore forced to undertake the locating of Faith Linden and the mysterious Lady Meredith entirely on his own.

  The selling of his London town house, which had seemed like a prudent and frugal gesture several weeks ago, added a further complication. Lacking a proper residence made it necessary to rent rooms at a fashionable and ridiculously expensive London hotel, and Griffin balked at the extra expense.

  Fortunately, the viscount had ordered several new coats from a respectable tailor while in town conducting the sale of his house, so it was not necessary to waste further coin on proper clothing. Once properly housed and groomed, Griffin assumed it would be relatively easy to meet up with Faith and her friend Lady Meredith by accepting some of the society invitations that had poured in once he had discretely made his presence in London known.

  However, Griffin quickly learned that he had once again misjudged the situation. Each evening there were no less than a half-dozen parties and routs held in the homes of society’s chosen few. Since he had no earthly idea what sort of entertainments would interest Faith and Lady Meredith, he was forced to attend as many of these gatherings as possible.

  As an unmarried viscount, Griffin was welcomed into the social whirl of the beau monde with open arms, despite his rather colorful reputation. But he quickly discovered there was a price to be paid for such blind acceptance. Speculative gleams of interest by the eager mothers in attendance dogged his every step, coupled with flirtatious giggles from their unwed daughters.

  It made him decidedly uncomfortable, especially since he was not in the least bit interested in obtaining a wife. As a connoisseur and great admirer of women, he found the whole wife-hunting game a most distasteful, bloodless sport.

  All too soon, Griffin began to grow weary of searching for Faith. Discouraged by his lack of success, he was fast beginning to think of this as a pointless endeavor. Yet his stubborn nature and prickling conscience bade him to continue.

  Impatiently he thrust open the carriage window and called out to his driver. “Is it much farther?”

  “We’ve only a few blocks to go, your lordship, but the street is so clogged with carriages I’ve nowhere to drive. Do you want me to try another route?”

  “Don’t bother. I’ll walk the rest of the way.”

  With a grunt of annoyance, Griffin swung open the door and lightly jumped down from the coach, before his startled servants could offer assistance. He imagined the butler would be properly scandalized to see him arrive on foot, but he was in too much of an ornery mood to care.

  On this particular starry evening he had been to no less than three different events, starting with a boring supper at Lord Anderson’s, followed by an abysmal rout at the home of the earl and countess of Shrewsbury, and a crushing ball at the duke of Harrowby’s.

  The final stop Griffin had planned for the night was Lady Dillard’s musical soiree. A gregarious opera soprano recently arrived from Italy was scheduled to perform. Of all the events of the night it was the one Griffin dreaded the most. He had never enjoyed the sweeping tones of the operatic voice, likening it to a screeching catfight, in which neither animal emerged victorious.

  Still, this was the final stop of the evening. With a resigned sigh, Griffin handed his card to the dour-faced butler attending the door. The servant gave him a dubious look that Griffin quelled with a hard stare. He was immediately shown into the music room by a contrite footman.

  A makeshift stage had been erected on the far side of the room and padded chairs were set before it in neat rows. A thin, white-faced young man sat at the pianoforte, and beside the instrument stood a buxom woman dressed in a gown of deep purple. Her mouth was wide open, formed into a perfectly shaped oval, from which she emitted sounds in a high range Griffin suspected only dogs could fully appreciate.

  Almost against his will, his eye was drawn to the purple feather atop her head that bobbed furiously each time she swung her arm out dramatically. It was a gesture she repeated often and helped distract him from the sounds she was producing.

  Forsaking a chair, Griffin hugged the wall to the left of the singer and eagerly scanned the room. Unfortunately, it was quite impossible to recognize any of the guests from this vantage point, since the primary view was of the back of everyone’s head.

  With a final, ear-splitting crescendo, the buxom singer flung both arms high in the air before finally snapping her mouth closed. There was a moment of blissful, utter silence. The audience then erupted into polite applause, coming to their feet while clapping. Not in appreciation, Griffin decided, but sheer relief.

  It was a moment to make an opera hater’s heart sing. An intermission.

  Griffin smiled. Perhaps his luck was finally changing. At least he had arrived in time to miss the majority of the performance. That must be a good sign.

  “I am so pleased you were able to join us this evening, Lord Dewhurst,” a female voice announced. “I had so hoped you would find time to attend my musical gathering.”

  “You do me an honor by inviting me, Lady Dillard,” Griffin replied with a charming grin. The cloying scent of gardenias enveloped him as he bowed low and took the hand of his elderly hostess. “I only regret that I arrived after the performance began.”

  “Never fear, my lord. Senora DeStefanis shall be singing several other selections before the evening is over.”

  “I hardly know what to say.”

  Lady Dillard giggled like a young girl, as if she suspected his true feelings on the matter. Griffin returned her smile readily. He had met her several times during this long week of social activities and actually found himself liking the old girl. If only she didn’t have such appalling musical taste.

  They briefly exchanged further pleasantries before Lady Dillard excused herself to attend to her other guests. With a jaundiced eye Griffin scanned the milling crowd, not really expecting to find anything of interest. More and more he was coming to believe it would be better to go back to the country and wait for Faith to return to Mayfair Manor. Nothing could be more torturous than attending these society events.

  He accepted a glass of chilled champagne from a passing footman and made a final, almost halfhearted glance at the fashionable assembly. Yet as he lifted the champagne flute to his lips, his hand stilled. The cool liquid slid down his parched throat, but the taste barely registered in his brain.

  For standing across the room, directly in his unobstructed line of vision, was the most exquisite female creature he had ever seen.

  She turned, as if searching the room for someone and looked straight at him. His tiredness and gloom instantly vanished. Her face was exquisite, seemingly carved of the finest pale marble and perfect in every small detail. Her silky blond hair was styled in a simple, elegant chignon, and instead of glittering jewels there were flowers artfully placed among the yellow tresses.

  Dressed in azure blue, she was tall and willowy, yet utterly feminine. He found it impossible to tear his gaze away. The upsweep of her hair emphasized the slender grace of her entire torso. Even in the dim candlelight he could see that her eyes were a deep, exotic blue. They reminded Griffin of the crystal waters of the Caribbean.

  She was not so bold as to smile at him, but she inclined her head slightly in his direction. He didn’t even realize that he had answered her silent summons until he found himself standing in front of her.

  “Lord Dewhurst.”

  It was not the enchanting blonde who whispered his name, but rather the tiny female standing beside her. Reluctantly, Griffin dragged his gaze away from the enchantress and found himself staring down at the very woman he had been searching for over five long days and five far more interminable nights.

  Miss Faith Linden.

  Griffin blinked, but she did not disappear. Then an immeasurable feeling of delight spread across his face as he witnessed Faith’s reaction to his sudden appearance. She made a distinctively strangled sound in the back of her throat and turned to the beautiful blond-haired woman with a look of sheer horror etched on her
face.

  It was at that moment that Griffin realized this mysterious beauty must be Lady Meredith. He experienced a brief, sharp pang of regret. Pity, she would forever be beyond his reach.

  The enchanting Lady Meredith must have surmised his identity from Faith’s panicked expression, but she was far more circumspect in her reactions. Her body went rigid as she drew herself up to her full height and cast him a look of disdain that would have done a vicar proud.

  The effect was ruined however when she dropped her fan and it bounced off the toe of her male companion, causing a mild commotion.

  He recognized the man as Lord Dunstand, a pompous dandy who imagined himself an expert on all matters of propriety and refinement. Griffin dismissed him as totally insignificant, but the man could prove to be an ally if the women decided to ignore him.

  Judging from their less-than-pleased reactions, Griffin had no doubt that his startled prey would have turned tail and bolted from the room. He moved quickly to prevent their escape.

  “What a delightful coincidence to see you again, Miss Linden.” He forced a note of calmness into his voice. “I had no idea you had journeyed to London.”

  Faith colored. Not a delicate, pretty blush, but a deep scarlet hue.

  “Miss Linden, did you say?” Lord Dunstand bristled. He brushed off the fan he had retrieved from the floor and handed it to Lady Meredith, then turned to face Griffin. “I’m afraid you’re very much mistaken, Lord Dewhurst. This is Miss Maxwell, a distant cousin of Lady Meredith’s. She’s visiting from the country.”

  “Miss Maxwell?”

  “Y-yes?” Faith’s hand rose to her cheek, then fluttered down to rest at her throat.

  Griffin licked his lips. What sort of nonsense was this? “And your given name?”

  “I say, Dewhurst, that is a rather forward request. You’ve only just met the woman.” Lord Dunstand wrinkled his forehead. “Actually, you haven’t even been properly introduced.”