The Impoverished Viscount

by Allison Lane

  Melissa headed for the retiring room one evening when she spotted Lord Ampleigh making his determined way to her side during a waltz she had kept free. The empty antechamber she passed was an even better refuge, so she ducked inside and locked the door. There must be a way to discourage him.

  Voices from the next room suddenly rose in argument. The connecting door was ajar. But as she reached out to shut it, she froze.

  “You will be ruined if anyone suspects you are a bluestocking, Mary,” snapped an angry voice. “Asking Mr. Hempbury if he has visited the Greenwich observatory is dangerously improper.”

  “But you promised, Mama!” wailed the unfortunate Mary. “You promised that if I consented to a Season, you would arrange for me to visit there.”

  Melissa’s eyes widened as the argument intensified. Leaning closer, she applied an eye to the crack, amazed to see Lady Donnington glaring daggers at her daughter, Lady Mary. The girl was a pattern card of feather-headed propriety, amassing a sizable court of fawning cubs who shared hardly a brain among them. That she was both a bluestocking and a budding astronomer was the answer to a prayer.

  “Can you help me a moment?” Melissa murmured to Helena following supper.

  Helena nodded and received permission from her mother. “What is the matter?” she asked, having expected to head for the retiring room to fix a tear.

  “Lord Ampleigh is becoming a problem,” murmured Melissa. “His attentions are growing too pointed. Though he is a dear friend, I could never consider wedding him. But his confidence is so fragile, I do not wish to turn him down. You must help me deflect him.”

  “You want me to cast sheep’s eyes at him?” choked Helena.

  Melissa giggled. “Of course not. That would set him up for a different kind of pain. But I found the perfect girl for him, if only she will display her true self.”

  “Who?”

  “Lady Mary Dunn.”

  “You cannot be serious!” exclaimed Helena. “She is the most insipid, pea-brained ninny I know.”

  “She certainly plays the part well. That toadeating mother of hers apparently forced her to town for the Season, then convinced her that revealing either intelligence or emotion would condemn her to spinsterhood if not outright ostracism.”

  “You mean she didn’t want a Season?” demanded Helena.

  “She prefers her studies.”

  Her eyes bulged. “How do you know all this?”

  “I overheard an argument between mother and daughter. It seems the girl is an astronomer.”

  Helena nearly laughed. “So that is what caught your attention. Ampleigh has bent my ear more than once on the subject. But where do I come in?”

  “You must help me convince Lady Mary that her mother’s ideas are too rigid. You have such a reputation for propriety, she must believe you. Then we will introduce her to Ampleigh and hope for the best. Despite his unprepossessing appearance, she cannot help but like him better than those coxcombs that are flitting around her now.”

  They arrived at the alcove to find Lady Donnington gossiping with several friends and Lady Mary patiently listening to Mr. Dawkins prattle about the continuing rain.

  Helena deftly disposed of Mr. Dawkins, while Melissa drew Lady Mary aside.

  “I understand you enjoy learning,” Melissa murmured.

  Fear and surprise lit Mary’s eyes.

  “Your mother is narrow-minded,” she continued. “Many ladies admit to serious interests, though few flaunt them.”

  “Yes, indeed,” corroborated Helena. “Consider Lady Hartford. Or Lady Hartleigh. And you may not be aware that bluestockings were all the rage following Madame de Staël’s visit three years ago.”

  “But Mama says I will be ruined if my interests become known,” protested Mary.

  “That may have been true at one time,” agreed Melissa. “And people with little interest in learning still believe it, but those whose opinions matter to you do not care. Consider your future. If you attract a husband by hiding your true self, what will he think of you when the truth comes out, as it surely must?”

  “And how would you enjoy life shackled to someone like Mr. Dawkins?” added Helena.

  Mary’s eyes widened.

  “Exactly,” nodded Melissa. “It is your life, not your mother’s. Am I correct to believe you enjoy astronomy?”

  She nodded. “Do you also study it?”

  “To be honest, no,” stated Melissa. “My own interests run to estate management, not that I expect to ever practice it. But after watching my father and brother ruin theirs, I am determined to wed a man who understands his business.”

  Mary turned hopeful eyes to Helena.

  “Sorry,” she admitted succinctly. “I prefer good works, especially setting up schools for tenants and villagers.”

  Mary’s shoulders had visibly slumped.

  “Not to worry, Lady Mary.” Melissa smiled. “We know a gentleman who adores astronomy. He often visits the Royal Observatory.”

  “Really?” Mary’s face lit.

  “Don’t expect a god,” warned Helena.

  “Very true,” agreed Melissa. “He is knowledgeable, but not much to look at. I’ll introduce you if you promise to be nice. I wouldn’t have him hurt for the world. He is sensitive about his appearance, apologetic about his interests, not overly graceful, and very shy.”

  “I don’t mind,” swore Mary. “Handsome gentlemen intimidate me. I am not very good socially.”

  That explained her vacant stare when surrounded by suitors, realized Melissa. And her timing was perfect. The next set was a waltz, and Ampleigh was already approaching.

  “You are just the person I wanted to see,” Melissa said before Ampleigh could ask her to dance. “Have you met Lady Mary?”

  “I’ve not had the pleasure,” he admitted unenthusiastically.

  “How remiss of her mother! Lady Mary, may I present Lord Ampleigh. This is Lady Mary Dunn, daughter of Lord Donnington. You are just in time to resolve an impasse. Lady Mary wishes to know more about the Royal Observatory, but I cannot recall your descriptions with any precision. Can you help?”

  “Delighted.” This time he sounded sincere.

  “Perhaps you could talk while executing this waltz,” suggested Helena. “That way her mother will not be upset.”

  The suggestion was quickly taken up.

  “Do you think they will suit?” asked Melissa as they returned to Lady Castleton’s side.

  “I don’t see why not.” Helena nodded to the floor, where the couple twirled round the room in animated discussion.

  When Ampleigh led Lady Mary out for the next waltz as well, Melissa heaved a sigh of relief. Their eyes were locked in blatant adoration.

  * * * *

  Charles relaxed in the reading room at White’s, idly perusing the paper while most of his mind grappled with the problem of Lord Heflin. His insistence on a betrothal didn’t ring true. Charles could not imagine even a man of Heflin’s venality going to such lengths to acquire a wife who despised him. Even were he planning to lock her away after getting an heir, he could not imagine it. Those debts must be enormous.

  But that did not make sense, either. Why would Heflin fleece Drayton? Everybody knew the fellow was destitute, having inherited nothing from an impoverished father. Heflin had attended school with the current earl, so he must know the truth.

  Charles could only conclude the man had been after Melissa all along. She was a delectable package. Heflin might have conceived an obsession for her. He would have been in a position to watch her grow and develop.

  “Mind if I join you, Rathbone?”

  Speak of the devil! Heflin had already taken the nearest chair.

  “I’m afraid I cannot stay. I’ve an appointment with my tailor,” he lied, folding the paper and preparing to rise.

  “I won’t keep you,” stated Heflin snidely. “But you will stay away from my betrothed. She no longer needs your escort.”

  “Peddle your delusions els
ewhere,” snapped Charles. “My cousins are under my protection and will remain so.”

  Heflin’s face darkened with fury. “I’ll not tolerate a libertine near my promised bride.”

  “Enough,” scowled Charles, rising to leave. “She is not and never will be your betrothed. Even Drayton is not that lost to honor.”

  “I’ll make you sorry you were ever born,” warned Heflin softly.

  “Likewise.” Charles glared, then left the club. It was time to expose Heflin as a cheat.

  At Lady Cunningham’s ball that night, he drew Matt and four other friends into a meeting in the library, where he laid out Heflin’s crimes, starting with the cheating of Matt and Drayton. Once he explained the threat against Melissa, Matt willingly backed him up. The others would take turns watching Heflin until they caught him. Meanwhile, Charles and Matt would protect Melissa.

  It sounded good, but the plan could not mitigate Charles’s fears. As long as Heflin was in England, Melissa was in danger.

  This latest danger forced him to confront his other problem, for Heflin’s threats made him recognize that his love for Melissa was stronger than ever. He did not want to live without her and would do everything possible to protect her from harm.

  Yet he felt the lure of temptation. For his entire life he’d lived with the promise of future wealth. It had influenced everything he’d done, for he’d had no incentive to fight his way out of poverty in the meantime. Once the money was his, he could easily correct all problems.

  Thus he’d let his estate slide even deeper into ruin until he had no hope of recovering on his own. Even marriage to Melissa might not compensate for a life of near-poverty. Could his love survive years of hardship?

  The question stripped away the last piece of his armor, baring deficiencies of character he’d never before admitted, even to himself. While he’d never felt this way about another woman, the fact remained that he invariably grew bored with even the best of his liaisons. Could Melissa continue to hold his interest in the face of so many other irritations?

  The fortune would let him live as he had pretended to for so many years, and Swansea would return to prosperity. Charles badly wanted to improve the estate. It was not fair to force his tenants and staff to live and work in medieval conditions. He could no longer evade his responsibilities. So he again faced a choice.

  He could convince Melissa to wed him, using her dowry to address the most urgent of his problems. Prosperity would eventually return, but only after years of hard work, frugality, sacrifice, and luck.

  Or he could wed Harriet, fulfilling every dream but one immediately.

  He’d considered the question once before, but not deeply. At the time he’d had little chance of ever finding Harriet, so following his heart had been an easy choice. A lazy choice. So many of his choices had roots in laziness.

  Now he had as good a chance to find Harriet as he had to entice Melissa into marriage.

  He stared at his glass, tempted to drain it but reluctant to cloud his mind at this crucial time.

  Neither Melissa nor Harriet would convince easily. Success in either endeavor might easily take months – months he barely had if he went after the inheritance. Either he left to pursue Harriet immediately, or he relinquished all thought of the fortune and pursued Melissa. It was time to make the final choice.

  Could he spend his life shackled to Harriet? It was true that he had felt an unexpected surge of desire for her, and her social standing might be closer to his own than he had previously considered, explaining her lack of awe over his title. A decent wardrobe might improve her appearance

  But nothing would improve her character. She disliked him and made no attempt to hide that disapproval. Her mannerisms were better suited to a stable than a drawing room. That strident voice grated on his ears, and her braying laugh would be disturbing even in a man. Against that he could place only an expertise with horses. Her faults and continued criticism would send him off to find a congenial mistress before much time had passed. Was that what he wanted?

  You would never honor your marriage vows … You have spent your life seducing others away from theirs.

  Melissa was right. It had never bothered him to cuckold other gentlemen, even friends on occasion, for most of them were doing the same to others. Marriage improved a man’s fortune and assured his succession, but custom gave both partners a wide degree of freedom, provided they were discreet. Custom bound him to shelter a wife, no matter who else she bedded, and demanded that she provide an heir if his body before dallying with others. Harriet would be welcome to follow that path.

  But not Melissa. The glass he was holding shattered at the image of her entertaining another man. He would kill anyone who touched her, and probably wring her neck as well. He had come close to doing both when Heflin’s claims first surfaced.

  His feelings for Melissa made nonsense of society’s standards. And it wasn’t just lust. He would never willingly share her, to be sure. But beyond that, he could not tolerate anyone hurting her, including himself. That was why he’d ceased pressing her that day in the park. It was what prevented him from compromising her. If he forced her into marriage, they would lose something precious.

  The married couples he knew fell into two groups. One contained gentlemen like Oaksford, Sanders, and Henderson, who freely bedded others. Oaksford could hardly be blamed, as he had been compromised by a conniving chit seeking a title. Oaksford had banished her once he had an heir and hadn’t seen her in years. But the others had wed in the usual way and enjoyed conventional marriages.

  The other group included the Hartfords, Wrexhams, Blackthorns, and others like them. Despite that several of the gentlemen had once been libertines, all doted on their wives even after years of marriage. And their ladies were equally devoted.

  It must be love that spelled the difference. And that was encouraging, for he certainly loved Melissa.

  He frowned. If she loved him, then he could hurt her by keeping a mistress, something he could never do. Distressing her would hurt him as well. The cost of the pleasure would be too high.

  Pleasure? His eyes widened. He did not want intimacy with others. The idea of bedding Harriet curdled his stomach.

  He passed a sleepless night arguing himself around in circles. Every time he thought he had made up his mind, something pushed him back on the fence. Money or love? Comfort or happiness? City ease or country labor? Harriet or Melissa? Finally, at dawn, he laid the last doubts to rest.

  * * * *

  “Good morning, Charles,” said Melissa as she joined him in the drawing room. “You are out early today.”

  “I need to talk to you,” he admitted.

  “What about?” Her nerves jumped, unsure what he wanted. Aside from his obvious lack of sleep, there was something different about him. Perhaps a hint of vulnerability. “Has Heflin again besmirched my name?”

  “No. Aside from ordering me to avoid you, he is oddly silent, though I suspect he is plotting a new strategy. Perhaps he sent someone to coerce a contract from your brother.”

  “If so, he will fail. Grandmama’s secretary left immediately. I expect Toby to arrive any day.”

  “Good.”

  Melissa claimed the chair nearest the fireplace and motioned him to another, but instead of sitting, he prowled restlessly about the room, his leashed power reminiscent of a caged lion. Today he bore no resemblance to a dissipated wastrel. Had Heflin really threatened him? If Charles suffered an injury, she would never forgive herself.

  Another minute passed before Charles turned troubled eyes onto her. “I need to discuss my behavior last summer.” He ignored her gasp. “You included it among your reasons for refusing my suit. The words have haunted me ever since.”

  “What are you talking about?” Had he discovered that she was Harriet. Her incautious words had plagued her since she lost control of her wits that day. But that was typical of her exchanges with him. He always reduced her brain to mush, making her reveal more than w
as seemly of their ignoble past. She was sick of the endless lying.

  “I still hope to convince you to marry me, my dear,” he began. “But I cannot do so without revealing my less honorable actions. There can be no secrets between us if we hope to achieve happiness.”

  Melissa bit her lip. He sounded serious, intelligent, and responsible. Maybe this was her opportunity to set the record straight about her own deceitful behavior – unless he was feigning to coerce her into something she would regret. He had lied that night at the inn. He probably lied whenever anyone thwarted his will.

  He did not note her expression as he resumed his pacing, describing in a low voice his grandmother’s infamous demands for marriage. “I do not know how she believed I could accomplish marriage on such short notice. There was no indication that her faculties were impaired, and she had always been a canny one. I left immediately for her estate, praying that I had misinterpreted her intentions. I hoped I could at least convince her to tie the inheritance to a future marriage.”

  He glanced imploringly at Melissa. She nodded, but refrained from speech.

  “A storm stranded me. Fear for my future prompted me to drink much more than usual. In that condition, I made the acquaintance of a young lady in distress because her destination was closed for a fortnight, and she had no place to stay. In a mad moment of weakness, I offered her shelter if she would pose as my betrothed.”

  Melissa gasped, her eyes glaring into his. Was he now claiming it was an impulse?

  “I know it was wrong, Melissa,” he admitted, pain showing in his voice. “If I had been sober, I would never have succumbed to such a hare-brained idea. But I was not. And I have paid dearly for that imposture. There was no betrothal. I lied when you raised the subject. Harriet deplored the deceit, and often castigated me for my greed. I believe you may know that yourself.”