“I agree, but her invigorating personality appears to be part of the allure for Baron Harndon.”
“Is she encouraging him to pay her court?”
“Not at all,” Faith bristled. “She is an engaged woman.”
“For all the good it has done her.” Griffin frowned. He pushed away his nearly empty breakfast plate. “I would not be displeased if she began to encourage some of the local gentry. Not Harndon; he is the wrong man for her. Perhaps we can find someone better suited for her temperament?”
Faith eyed her husband in surprise. “Harriet is engaged,” she repeated.
“I have no evidence of that other than my sister’s word and a wistful gleam in her eye whenever she speaks of the man,” Griffin snapped. “Which is not very often. That does not overly surprise me since he appears to have forgotten her existence entirely. To my knowledge she has not received one letter from her fiance since my arrival.”
“He is fighting a war. I cannot imagine there is a great deal of time to be spared for letter writing,” Faith said with a certainty she was far from feeling.
“Other soldiers manage to correspond with their families.”
“Well, maybe Mr. Wingate doesn’t like to write letters.”
The viscount did not bother to reply and Faith realized how upset he truly felt. Her husband had mentioned on several occasions his concerns over Harriet’s future. Apparently it still worried him.
“Have you been able to learn anything about Harriet’s fiancé?” Faith asked.
Griffin’s jaw clenched. “Nothing of significance.”
Faith sighed. “You are scowling Griffin, which means you are uncomfortable, which means that you are not telling me the entire truth.”
His mouth twisted in a grimace. “I have received some information. Apparently Wingate can hold his liquor, has wounded one man in a duel, and when he is living in town enjoys keeping an expensive, flashy mistress.”
“Griffin!”
“I told you that what I had learned about Wingate was not of significance for Harriet. He sounds as though he conducts himself like every other hot-blooded gentleman who has too much time to fritter away. Perhaps it is better that he is in the army. At least he has a profession.”
“I think Harriet might find the part about Mr. Wingate’s mistresses rather significant,” Faith huffed, fixating on the one aspect that truly distressed her. “Do you suppose he will give up these women after they are married?”
Griffin shrugged. “If I ever meet the man I will certainly suggest it, but I hold out little hope he will comply. Based on what I have learned, I worry more that Wingate might be drawn to a life of self-gratification and carnal indulgences. Especially if he resigns his army commission. I cannot imagine Harriet flourishing in such a meaningless existence.”
“I too had heard rumors, but Harriet chose him of her own free will,” Faith reminded Griffin. “She is certainly old enough to know her own mind.”
“Even though she is of age, I am responsible for my sister’s welfare. I will not allow her to enter into an ill-suited marriage.” Griffin’s gray eyes grew serious. “Above all else, I want her to be happy.”
Like you? Faith wanted to shout. Are you happy? Or do you still feel regret over our marriage?
For the first time Faith noticed the vulnerability and uncertainty in Griffin’s face. Her chest tightened. Her role was to help and support him, not burden him with her own insecurities. She might have lost her heart to this man, yet she still retained some pride and reason.
It could cause the viscount even greater distress and embarrassment to be interrogated by her over the state of their marriage. Faith told herself she was sparing them both by not addressing this issue. Yet secretly she was angry with herself for lacking both the courage to ask and the fortitude to hear the answer.
They spoke no more of Harriet’s fiance in the coming weeks, but Faith knew it still troubled Griffin. She too began to watch the post for letters to Harriet that never arrived. And she also started to view the local gentlemen in a different eye—as prospective husbands for her sister-in-law
Having lived all her life in Harrowby, Faith was used to the monotonous tenor of country living. At times she suspected her husband was restless and bored with this routine, for it was a far cry from the excitement and interest of his days as a sea captain.
But the viscount made an effort to be sociable, insisting that they host and attend various entertainments of the local gentry. They soon became a great favorite wherever they went, and no gathering was considered a success until the viscount and his bride made an appearance.
Quickly their days developed a pattern, a comfortable rhythm that brought a sense of peace, if not complete contentment, to Faith. She enjoyed their at-home evenings best, after dinner had ended and Harriet and Elizabeth had taken themselves off to bed.
Seated alone together in the drawing room, she and Griffin would discuss the events of the day or plan the activities of the remainder of the week. Occasionally Griffin would read aloud to her in a deep baritone voice that made her insides feel like a swirling cauldron of bubbling liquid.
When the clock struck eleven, Griffin would rise purposefully from his chair. With a wicked, teasing glint in his eye he would offer his arm and formally escort Faith to her bedchamber door.
Once there, the viscount would raise her hand to his lips, brush her knuckles lightly, and then bid her a pleasant good night. Faith would practically fly into her chamber, impatient with her maid to help her quickly disrobe. The moment she was clad in a sheer nightrail, she would dismiss the servant, admonishing her to attend to the cleaning and organizing of the clothes in the morning.
Then Faith would be left to wait, tense with anticipation and a slight edge of fear. Would he come to the door that connected their bedchambers and quietly knock? Or would this be the night that it all ended?
Nerves stretched taut she would listen anxiously for the tapping at the door, releasing her breath when it finally came. Then Griffin would step into her bedchamber, looking impossibly handsome, a ghost of a smile about his lips.
Faith always answered that smile with a warm, lingering kiss, pressing herself forward so they touched from breasts to hips to thighs.
“Are you feeling very tired?” Griffin would ask.
“A little,” she would answer, blowing into his ear.
“Then I shall be a most considerate husband tonight and allow you to fall asleep at least an hour before dawn.”
“I am honored, my lord.”
He would lift her in his arms and carry her to the bed, resting her in the middle. Pausing only long enough to strip off his black satin robe, he would come down beside her, dragging her mouth to his for a ravishing kiss.
Some nights their coupling was swift and lusty, other nights it was agonizingly slow and thorough. Faith marveled that even after so many intimacies there were still new ways of touching and arousing each other.
Griffin’s skilled hands and mouth seemed to read her mood, to know instinctively what she needed to achieve fulfillment. He taught her how to please him and she discovered that heightened her own pleasure.
Faith was always alone when she woke in the morning, with the lingering scent of Griffin’s masculine sensuality clinging to the bed linens the only reminder of where he had spent the night. And thus the new day began.
On Sundays they attended church, sitting solemnly together in the family pew, distracted from the vicar’s sermons only when Georgie became restless and started squirming in his seat. Weather permitting, they would stroll home together after the service, arm in arm, with Georgie running eagerly ahead and Elizabeth and Harriet trailing discreetly behind.
It was not, of course, a perfectly idyllic existence. They quarreled, too. About his interfering sister who still persisted in giving her opinion and advice when it was neither sought nor welcome. Over the elderly gentleman who had been hired as Georgie’s tutor, when Faith had specifically requested
a kindly governess.
Though in time she had to concede that the tutor, Mr. Cabot, was a patient man, who appreciated his pupil’s bright mind and did not wish to break his engaging spirit.
If questioned, Faith knew she would reply that she was content. She had learned to bend and compromise without breaking, had learned to pick and choose the battles that mattered most, had come to understand that there would be highs and lows in her marriage.
The physical desire she felt for her husband still left her breathless. At times it took only a look, or the sound of his deep voice to set her body aflame. And while she was pleased and flattered that Griffin spent his nights in her bed, Faith wanted more from her marriage than physical gratification.
Yet deep in her heart she almost dared not to hope for it, fearing it would jeopardize what she had achieved.
With the passing of autumn came the days of Christmas, a holiday Faith had always enjoyed. This year it was especially joyous thanks to Georgie’s presence in the household. He was enchanted by everything—the evergreen boughs draped over many of the fireplace mantels in the house, the colorful bows and ribbons, and the profusion of red-berry holly and mistletoe that lent a cheery ambience to the rooms of the manor, and the delicious smells of holiday treats wafting up from the kitchen.
On Christmas Day he even managed to sit still during the entire church service, but was too excited to do justice to the sumptuous feast of roasted goose, salmon, rabbit, turnips, parsnips, carrots, mincemeat pies, gingerbread, and candied fruits. The gaily wrapped parcels piled high on the drawing room credenza were far more enticing to a young boy than his favorite kidney pie and custard.
At long last it was time to open the gifts. Gathered around a blazing Yule log in the drawing room, the family sipped mulled wine, exchanged small tokens, and wished each other well.
Georgie had the most impressive pile of presents, as was fitting for the youngest member of the household. He exclaimed with such earnest delight as he opened each parcel that each was his favorite gift, that the adults were soon laughing before he had even unwrapped his present.
Faith was pleased with the lovely embroidered handkerchief from Elizabeth but was nearly speechless over the cashmere shawl that Harriet gave her. The true shocker of the day came when she opened the small, thin, flat box from her husband.
“Oh, Griffin, you should not have wasted the funds on this extravagant present for me,” Faith protested as she lifted the stunning necklace from the satin-cushioned lining. The diamond and gold necklace sparkled gaily in the firelight.
“I suppose that is one of the hazards of letting your wife look at your account books,” Griffin said with a mocking smile.
He took the necklace from Faith’s trembling fingers and clasped it around her neck.
“It looks beautiful,” Elizabeth said sincerely.
“Very pretty,” Harriet seconded.
“Goodness.” Faith touched her throat. The elegant necklace felt cool and smooth against her fingers. “I hardly know what to say.”
The viscount leaned close so that only Faith could hear. “I wanted you to have something special, something memorable to mark the occasion. This is, after all, our first Christmas together as man and wife.”
Faith’s eyes filled with emotion. She glanced away, not wanting anyone to see the tears trickle down her cheek.
“Look! It’s snowing!”
Georgie’s boyish cries of excitement commanded everyone’s immediate attention. They all rushed to the windows and crowded around to look outside.
“The ground is completely white,” Harriet observed. “It must have been falling for some time.”
“I want to go outside and touch it,” Georgie exclaimed.
“Splendid idea,” Griffin said. “ ’Tis not yet dark. If we hurry, we can manage a sleigh ride. Is anyone interested?”
There was a deafening chorus of yeas. Everyone quickly scrambled into hats and coats and gloves and fought good-naturedly over who would get to ride first.
Georgie and Faith won that argument. They snuggled together under the thick fur lap robe while Griffin deftly drove the sleigh over the thin layer of snow that had fallen. Then they waved gaily to Harriet and Elizabeth as the women took a turn in the sleigh and watched it disappear across the meadow, the viscount once again in command of the reins.
It was serenely silent in the deserted meadow. Faith and Georgie immediately set to work trying to construct a statue made of snow. Suddenly, a strange cawing sound broke the quiet.
“What was that?” Georgie inquired.
Faith cocked her head and listened intently. “It sounds like birds. Rather noisy ones.”
“Can we find them?” Georgie asked excitedly, dropping the large ball of snow he was packing. “Then we can bring them bread for their Christmas dinner.”
“I suppose we could look for their nest.” Faith brushed the snow off her gloves and reached for Georgie’s hand. “But you must be very quiet while we search for the birds, or else they will be frightened and fly off.”
Hand in hand they followed the noise, through a small clump of bushes, then to the end of the low hedges that surrounded the meadow. Faith’s eyes scanned the bare branches, yet she saw nothing perched in the trees.
They stood side by side in the snow and listened, their warm breath clouding the cold air.
“I heard it again,” Georgie exclaimed. “This way.”
He let go of Faith’s hand and raced forward.
“Wait for me,” she cried, charging after him. Georgie rounded the hedge and disappeared from view. Faith quickened her gait, but it was hard to run in the ankle-deep snow wearing her thick, heavy boots.
Panting from exertion and fear, Faith finally turned past the hedge. With a gasp of pure relief she spotted Georgie. He was standing very quiet and still, staring down into a clump of low evergreens. Faith hurried to his side.
“They aren’t birds, Faith.”
She glanced down to where the child was pointing and saw a tangle of gray, white, and black fur. “Kittens,” she declared in surprise.
Georgie’s head turned sharply. “Really?”
He reached down eagerly, but Faith stopped him. “Let me do it.” Gently she separated the ball of fur and discovered three very young, very noisy animals.
“Why are they making so much noise?” Georgie asked.
“They must be hungry,” Faith decided. She alternatively stroked the fur of the two kittens she held while Georgie struggled to keep the adventurous feline in his arms under control.
“I don’t think the kittens like the snow,” Georgie decided. “We should bring them home. They could sleep in a box near my bed. It is warm in my room.”
“Oh, no, we cannot move them. The mother cat will no doubt come back to care for her babies. She would be very sad if they were not here.”
Georgie lowered his head dejectedly while Faith scanned the area for signs of a mother cat. It was unusual for a female to abandon such young offspring.
Faith was trying to think of the best way to persuade Georgie to leave when Griffin, Harriet, and Elizabeth arrived. The women immediately began cooing over the tiny creatures.
“Aunt Harriet can have the gray one and Faith can have the white one and I can have the black one,” Georgie decided generously. He turned a winning smile toward his father. “Okay?”
“I tried to explain that we should not move them,” Faith said weakly. The kitten in her arms had buried its head in her neck and was purring softly.
“But we can hardly leave them out here,” Elizabeth protested. “They will freeze.”
A debate ensued over the correct and proper course of action. Griffin announced that he would take one of the kittens to Higgins, the stablemaster, who had superior knowledge of all types of animals and ask his advice.
Faith reluctantly handed over her kitten. The viscount placed the animal in the sleigh and drove off, but he returned quickly.
“Higgins found t
he mother cat yesterday afternoon in the stable loft,” Griffin whispered to Faith. “She must have been in a fight with another animal.”
“That explains why she has not returned.” Faith lifted the kitten from her husband’s large hands and cradled it in her arms. “Is she badly hurt?”
“I’m afraid she is dead.”
“Oh, no,” Faith moaned. “What will happen to these poor creatures?”
“Higgins thinks it would be best to drown them.”
“Oh, my!” Faith pulled the kitten closer to her breast. “What a beastly thing to suggest.”
Griffin shrugged. “He thought only to prevent a prolonged suffering. They are too young to survive without a mother.”
“But surely we must try to save them,” Faith protested.
“I’m inclined to agree with Higgins,” Griffin replied. “They will most likely die anyway.”
“ ’Tis Christmas Day,” Faith said softly. “Could we not at least try?”
Faith knew she was asking the impossible, but it suddenly seemed very important that she try to save these helpless creatures. A very reluctant Griffin agreed to bring the orphaned animals home. It was difficult to get Georgie to bed that night and even more difficult to persuade him that the kittens would be safe and warm in the box Higgins made for them in the stable.
Faith slept fitfully that night, arising just after dawn. As was his custom, Griffin was already gone from her bed. She dressed quickly, without the help of her maid, tossed a warm cloak over her shoulders, and headed for the stable.
When she walked to the warm corner where the kittens were kept, she discovered her husband standing over the box with a grim expression.
Worry splintered through her. “What has happened?”
“The black kitten died during the night.”
“Oh, Griffin,” Faith’s eyes filled with tears. She rushed forward and gazed at the limp body in the viscount’s hand. “The poor little thing.”
“I warned you, Faith.” A muscle tightened in his cheek. “They were so young. Too young to survive without a mother to care for them.”
To Wed A Viscount Page 27
