by TYNER, LIZ
The Viscount whipped his head away from William and stared to the windows. ‘I cannot even bear the sight of you.’ His words raced. ‘I didn’t think you would perhaps jump to marry someone suitable, but I didn’t expect you to destroy our entire heritage.’
‘I’ve done no such thing.’
His father waved his hands in the air. ‘You wanted to make sure no woman would consent to wed you. You abducted a woman in daylight, in front of as many witnesses as you could find.’
‘Abducted? Are you foxed?’ His voice rose. The man had lost his senses.
‘Do not try to turn this back at me.’ He rushed by William and to the windows. He stretched his arms at each side of the window, as if holding himself erect. His head dropped.
‘Your Aunt Emilia has even begged to say that you were with her to save you. But I have forbidden it. Besides, too many have seen you.’
‘The woman was attacked.’
‘Attacked? Of course she was attacked. It’s said you near dragged a reddish-haired woman screaming from a brothel.’
‘No.’ William’s throat clenched. ‘No.’
‘Why am I not surprised? I have heard. Always I have heard. I have heard of the night you were foxed and fought the Duke of Wakefield’s brother. I have heard of your gambling. But I never thought you to be so low as what transpired last night.’
The Viscount put closed fists over his eyes. ‘My son,’ he gasped out the words. He pulled his fists away, eyes reddened. ‘I caused this. I caused it.’ His voice cracked, then gained momentum. ‘But I can correct it. You will vacate the premises by the end of a fortnight. I suppose sleep in your new carriage. I do not wish to see you again.’ His lips trembled. His voice had the same fury as when he had told William to take the ring from Will’s mother’s finger on the last night of her life.
The jewellry had slipped easily from her finger and he’d felt as if he had stolen her last breath.
Pushing the memories aside, William turned so he would not see his father’s face. The same vice clenched him that had surrounded him so many times before, only this time, he had to use all his might to push it away so he could speak. ‘What happened?’
‘Tonight,’ the older man said, ‘I have lost my only son. I could not sup with someone such as you.’ He stepped around William, pulling his hat from the shade and grasping the cane.
William turned. ‘Father. What is going on?’
The Viscount took his hat, and clenched the cane. ‘I must blame myself, William. But it does not change a thing. I shouldn’t have mourned your mother so long. I should have opened my eyes before it was too late. But it is now too late.’
He stepped forward, but lowered the walking stick. ‘Oh, you showed me. You really did. But I will not ignore such behaviour. No longer. This was beyond the pale. Even for you.’
William squinted at his father. ‘The woman is safe at Sophia’s house. I took her from Wren’s, but she wished for me to.’
‘Sophia?’ His father started. ‘What does she know of this?’ His fists clenched. ‘I could pay the hangman myself for you attacking an innocent woman.’ He stepped back. ‘Your sisters. Think of your sisters.’ He dipped his head. The room was silent. ‘This will reach their ears. They’ll be humiliated.’
Attacking an innocent? His father believed William attacked Isabel? The vice gripped again.
‘The whole town will hear of it.’ His father’s voice ended on a high shriek. ‘Apparently the talk of your—behaviour became the centre of the dinner. Your aunt was mortified. The whispers have already started and will become shouts. She came to me in tears. She found Sylvester and he agreed that you dragged a woman from Wren’s. He said he was so shocked he didn’t think to chase you and rescue her until after you had spirited her away in your carriage.’
‘I didn’t do anything wrong.’
‘All the men saw you leave carrying a woman of quality from Wren’s. A copper-haired woman with a bruised cheek. The men at cards heard her scream. Saw her in tatters. Blood on her sleeve. You forcing her out the door and into the carriage. Leaving a knife behind. It is thought her body was tossed into the Thames.
‘Oh…’ William stepped back, reaching a hand to the wall, steadying himself. ‘No. No. It is not that. I didn’t—’
This… This would destroy his sisters.
‘You will never step foot in my house again. You will distance yourself from your sisters for their sake. I hope you care enough for them for that.’ His father’s eyes twitched.
Events of the night before careened through William’s head. He’d done nothing wrong, except perhaps in letting Wren escape a magistrate, but he’d not wanted any notice of the night.
Now his name would be destroyed. The tales of his past weren’t enough to grieve his sisters, but with this added, everything would be embellished. The tarnish would never be cleansed.
William took in a breath. ‘Father.’ He laughed, but could barely manage the sound. ‘That is so absurd.’ He waved a hand. ‘She was to meet me, but was early and confused at her direction. When she was alighting the carriage, a dog, obviously trained by a cutpurse, ran out and startled the horses. The culprit knocked her about, but Isabel fought back before running into the back door of Wren’s. The criminal chased her and caught her there.’ He hoped no one had truly noticed her in the shadows before. But he doubted they had. At first, the bonnet had hidden her face and covered her hair. She’d remained in shadows, her presence overridden by the woman on the stage. Then, when he’d moved her outside, her clothing dishevelled—everyone had noticed them and the light reflected on her hair when the door opened.
He took a breath, gathering his thoughts. ‘The driver had to keep the horses steady while fighting off the dog and didn’t realise Miss—’ If he’d heard her surname, he’d forgotten it ‘—my Isabel had exited the carriage and been attacked.’
His father stared. ‘And why would a woman of quality be wishing to meet you there?’
‘We had corresponded. We were to go to Gretna Green. I plan to wed her, but could not start out with her in such a state. That is why I bought the new carriage. To elope. She is waiting at Sophia’s to recover and then we will marry.’
The heat of the day had collected in the room and the Viscount rubbed sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand.
‘She is alive? A reddish-haired woman?’
‘Very much alive. She is a good woman. I wish to marry her. We are betrothed.’
His father examined William’s face. ‘Without so much of the piffle spread in—did you attack her?’
‘No. I could never do that.’ He used his eyes to convince his father. ‘She didn’t realise where she was.’
‘You believe her?’
He nodded. ‘She is a country squire’s daughter. She had no notion.’
‘From the country, you say?’ He shut his eyes. ‘And you have been corresponding with her and she agreed to meet you—’
‘Father. We have corresponded many times while she trained to be a governess. We were not certain, with the differences in our station, that people would accept our union. So I thought it best, to avoid dissension, to present Isabel as my wife.’
‘You can produce her for view?’
‘Of course.’
The Viscount slammed his cane against the door frame. ‘I will remember this story well enough. I cannot have my only son accused of defiling a woman. I cannot.’
‘I didn’t. When she didn’t meet me as planned, I found her crouching behind Wren’s and without thinking I took her through the place, hoping I might see the cutpurse and have him contained.’
‘I could not believe what the others are saying, but I have heard the tales of your courting the women of the demi-monde. You are known in every gambling hell and tavern in London. And yet, you say you were with an innocent miss. If she weds you I will know you tell enough of the truth. If she doesn’t, I forbid your name spoken to me and I’ll not have it said in my presence
that I have a son.’
He stopped mid-turn to the door and then returned his gaze to William. ‘Should I trust you enough to spend the day at the club laughing at the tale Sylvester is telling because he thinks to get me to switch funds his way and a jest got out of hand?’
‘Yes.’ The word had the strength of a church bell.
He turned his back to his son. ‘I will explain this fluff to your Aunt Emilia and she will begin combating the tales. But you must produce this sweetheart of yours and she must be at your side. And she’d better have red in her hair.’
Every rail on the bannister sounded to have received a thwack from the cane as the Viscount left the house.
William went to the window. His mouth was dry. He put a hand on the wooden shutter running the length of the door. No, the houses across the way were not like his. He swung his leg back, planning to kick out the window, but returned his boot to the carpet. He could not. If he did, they would think him the one cracked and no one would believe him innocent.
He would marry. Isabel must understand. His future depended on her saying yes.
Chapter Four
The clean dress looked more mending thread than cloth, but it did wonders for Isabel’s spirit. She held the skirt away from her body and curtsied to her image in the mirror. She dreaded sitting down to dinner with Sophia and her husband because she’d never eaten in such a fine house and she hoped she didn’t embarrass herself.
A maid knocked, then entered when Isabel answered. ‘Miss, you are requested to the mistress’s sitting room.’ The woman darted away before Isabel moved.
Truly, she didn’t want to step outside the bedchamber. But she must. She must put on a brave face and accept her fate as a governess. Quickly, she practised the brave face in the mirror and then she laughed at herself. To be safe was all that mattered.
She would regain that governess position without losing her reputation. Her parents had sacrificed so that she might attend Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies and have the best education they could provide. She could not reward them by failing to be able to care for herself.
When she walked into the sitting room, Sophia wasn’t present. A lone figure sat on the sofa. William, legs stretched, his gaze on some distant thought. Her spirit leapt. Isabel rushed forward to thank him again. William rose from the sofa, legs straightening in a controlled slowness.
She lost her thoughts. She’d not seen a man such as him. Ever. He could have trampled any man in one of her novels. This lone man had saved her against a man with a knife. His inside was as magnificent as his outside.
A true rescuer in gentleman’s clothing. The cravat, perfect. The waistcoat under his dark coat gold with matching buttons.
‘I do not know how I will ever thank you,’ she said.
His lips thinned, then turned up. His kept his gaze on her. His eyes had no true happiness in them, but his mouth seemed determined to laugh.
‘Marriage?’ he asked.
She leaned forward. ‘I didn’t hear you.’
He clasped his hands behind him. ‘Will you be so kind as to wed me? Vows. For ever. All that nonsense.’
She needed two tries before she could speak. For ever? Nonsense? ‘You did save my life,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I could stitch you up a rather nice nightcap. My father quite likes the one I did for him.’
‘We have quite a kettle boiling around us,’ he said, leaning his shoulders forward and tipping his head close to hers. He smelled better than any perfume she’d ever scented. Perhaps like lilacs, but not flowery. More like something to deflect the scent of shaving and masculinity and things that might tempt a woman.
Yet the words he spoke had no sweet fragrance in them.
For ever? Nonsense? She had dreamt of true love. Of all that ‘for ever’ and ‘nonsense’. And even asked that if there were angels up above, one might send a nice vicar or soldier her way. He didn’t need all his teeth, or hair or even the usual number of fingers or toes, and this man seemed to have all that, whereas a man missing a few parts might be more willing to share all his love to find a wife. She wanted someone who gazed upon her as a shining star. Someone who could shower her with love…and perhaps not be found in a brothel. Although she could not complain he had been at Wren’s the night before, but still that didn’t induce her to wed him.
She put a firm, competent look on her face. ‘I am quite good at making stockings which keep the feet warm on a cold night,’ she said.
He shut his eyes briefly and pulled back, lips upturned, as if they knew no other direction. ‘You would not ever know I was about. I doubt I would be home enough you’d notice. You would be a governess of sorts still, but it could be for your own children. One would hope for children to be a part of the endeavour.’
Oh, that was what this was about. The man needed some sons and perhaps he’d only been at Wren’s and not noticed the many fine places where a decent woman could be found.
‘Children?’ She looked past his shoulder to the wall. ‘You’re not unpleasant to look at,’ she said. ‘I could recommend several young women who are now at Madame Dubois’s School for Young Ladies who would be quite good wives.’ She appraised him and fought to keep speaking. William had helped her most efficiently and she should do the same in return. ‘What colour hair do you prefer?’
He appraised her, eyes lingering at her head. ‘A copper colour. Like sunlight has softened it.’
‘Um…’ She looked at him. ‘I admit, my hair is a good shade. I have heard that all my life. And I can understand you might think to have children with this colour of hair, but it is indeed a bit rare and one cannot count on such a thing.’
‘Probably a bit much to expect the sky-blue eyes to go with it.’
Her stomach curled, making it hard to maintain her composure.
‘Yes, I’m a bit of an aberration.’
‘A lovely aberration.’ He paused. He looked at her without flirtation. ‘And your voice. I like your speaking voice. It doesn’t grate on my ears.’
‘Oh, my…’ She put her hand to her bodice and ducked her head in the way she did when someone praised her singing. ‘You are quite efficient with the compliments. I hope that is one of your own and not from the list.’
He nodded and his lips turned up at one side before speaking. ‘You would be surprised how many times a woman’s voice has grated on my ears. I have three sisters, remember. So when I called you Songbird, it was not idle. But it would be best for us to wed.’
She put her palm out, touching his coat just above his elbow, giving a brief pat, trying to ease the rejection. Oh, candlesticks, no one would ever believe she had refused a viscount’s son. ‘You do not have to concern yourself with my honour. Your sister has agreed to help me get to Sussex. If that does not work out, I can return to my parents’.’ She could not go home in disgrace though. She would have to find a post.
‘I am not concerned only about your honour.’ His eyes sparkled and his lips, still firm, returned to their rueful smile.
‘I know a quite lovely girl of near marriage age,’ she said. ‘I could see that you have an introduction. Blonde hair. Eyes the same colour as mine.’
‘Do they sparkle quite as well as yours do?’
‘I’m sure when she looks at you they will quite outshine…’ She paused. Cecilia was so sweet and kind and rather younger. An older rake would not do at all. ‘She may not quite suit you, though. I think perhaps all my friends remaining at the governess school might be young for you and the ones who graduated with me are quite busy. Perhaps, um…’ she stumbled ‘…a nice widow. A woman with some—knowledge. More your age.’
‘I’m twenty-four. Not quite ancient.’
‘Oh,’ she muttered, ‘I thought you older. At least thirty. Closer to thirty-five.’ Particularly if he seemed desperate to find a wife.
One brow rose.
‘I suspect you have rather included many adventures in those years. I do seem to remember asking if it was your first time at
that horrible place and I think you answered that you were long past first times at anything.’
‘Except marriage. It would be my first time at marriage.’
‘I fear you do not understand the concept.’
‘I disagree.’ He took a step away. ‘I have seen it quite close. Love and all that…conflagration of mindless emotion.’ He stopped. ‘Isabel. I am quite slogging in the wrong direction. I hate to tell you what has transpired, but I feel I must…’
‘The talk is out about my misfortune.’ She met his eyes. They confirmed her words. She continued, ‘You are asking for my hand in marriage to save my honour.’
He was valiant. No knight could surpass him.
His eyes shut. ‘Not entirely.’ He stepped forward.
Again, when he stood so close, something about him distracted her thoughts and took them as directly as one might take the bridle of a horse and turn its face in a desired direction.
‘I would hope that I would be so noble as to marry to save you, but I am not sure.’ He took her fingertips. She could not move.
Now he spoke softly, conveying the importance of his words with his gaze.
‘It is said that I ravished you in Wren’s. I spirited you out by force. The dishevelment. The torn dress.’
‘You didn’t ravish me. You rescued me.’
‘Yes. But to have that untrue story—no matter how it is said—your presence in such a place will cast aspersions on you. I would prefer us both to get out of this as best as possible. I would not wish to spend the rest of my life with the lingering question in the minds of others as to whether I truly attacked you or not.’
She balled her fists within his hands. ‘I will tell them. I will tell them all.’
‘You may,’ he said. ‘Other questions will arise that neither of us particularly care to be subjected to. You will be seen as a woman afraid to tell the truth about a wayward viscount’s son for fear of repercussions. I do not have a…’ He searched for a word. ‘A sombre past.’
Her stomach bunched into a gulp and then bounced from one side of itself to the other. ‘William, I fear you would not make a good husband.’
