The Secrets of a Viscount

by Linda Rae Sande

  Adam lifted his gaze to meet Godfrey’s, trying but failing to suppress the grimace he knew he still displayed.

  I don’t have to marry.

  The thought gave him little comfort and only left him feeling a bit dismayed.

  Did it really matter?

  Probably not. He still wanted to marry the duke’s daughter—illegitimate or not—he decided, his stubborn nature overriding any practical considerations.

  So, did it matter?

  Well, it might to Ariley. After the duke’s insinuation that he had to marry, Adam realized Ariley didn’t have a very good opinion of him. Or perhaps the man simply believed the worst, no doubt because of his past behavior.

  Well, he wasn’t like that any longer. Not since he had taken a seat in Parliament.

  The thought had him furrowing his brows, his father’s words about reputation coming back to him. Well, he had a reputation to overcome. Perhaps this would be the best way to start.

  Chapter 26

  A Viscount Provides Advice

  As Godfrey Thorncastle watched Adam Comber come to sort some of decision, he realized something rather profound just then. I am marrying a duke’s daughter.

  A duke’s sister.

  As for asking permission, he was suddenly rather glad he had done so. He had asked Ariley’s permission to marry Elise three times!

  But why was Adam Comber, Viscount Breckinridge, so upset about not having asked permission?

  “You might have asked her as to whom you needed to seek permission,” Thorncastle suggested in a hoarse whisper, hoping the younger viscount would settle down a bit. “Certainly you discussed her family whilst you courted her—”

  “Her mother is no longer of this earth,” Adam interrupted, remembering Diana’s comment over ice at Gunter’s. He recalled a brief discussion about her father, but he had been left with the impression the man was out of her life since marrying his new wife. He’d certainly never had the impression the man was a member of the peerage, despite the comment about him managing an estate.

  Thorncastle watched the younger viscount as he seemed to struggle with his thoughts. He was left wondering if Breckinridge was reacting to something entirely different. “Is this really about the young lady’s father? You couldn’t have been expecting a... settlement, or a dowry if you thought he didn’t exist.”

  Adam regarded Godfrey for a full ten seconds, attempting to tamp down the sudden anger he felt at the insinuation. Of course he wasn’t expecting a dowry! He thought he was marrying a commoner, a young lady who made her way in life from the little pay she earned teaching arithmetic and dancing at a finishing school. Just because he now knew she was the daughter of an aristocrat didn’t change that expectation. Especially after the duke’s comment.

  Got a child on some poor chit, did you?

  The ten seconds was enough time for Adam’s emotions to even out, his reasoning to return to full capacity. “I was not, truth be told. Nor would I, even though I expect Ariley will now insist on some sort of settlement.” He thought of Diana, of how the tears had begun dripping down her cheeks. His heart clenched a bit. Dammit. This was all her fault.

  Wasn’t it?

  Or was it his? Jesus! They hadn’t been properly introduced the entire time they had spent together on Thursday. He didn’t even know her name! What right, then, did he have to know about her parentage—legitimate or otherwise?

  He had half a mind to return to the narthex, but the thought of facing the duke, especially after the comments he had made to the man, had him deciding it would be best if he went for a walk.

  “I believe I must take my leave of the situation,” Adam said with a slight nod. “Ariley is in the church. He and his daughter will be your witnesses on this fine day.” With those words, Adam Comber made his way down the steps of St. George’s, completely ignoring the Aimsley coach parked at the curb.

  Chapter 27

  An Explanation is in Order

  Meanwhile, back in the church

  Tears streamed down Diana’s face, her watery gaze taking in her father’s look of disappointment. Or was it concern? “I apologize, Father. I... I thought to pay you a visit. To inform you of Lord Breckenridge’s intention to marry me, but I wasn’t sure when your duchess would be in residence, and I didn’t wish to embarrass her by—”

  “She’s well aware of you and your sister,” Ariley countered in a quiet voice. “Looks forward to the day when she can make your acquaintance, in fact,” he added with a sigh. Or so she claims. He never imagined that a gently bred lady of the ton would ever deign to be in the same room as her husband’s illegitimate daughter.

  Diana managed to stifle a sob at this bit of news. “She does?” she repeated, her eyes lifting to meet his in surprise.

  “Indeed. Why, I would have been able to introduce you to her this instant except she decided she best stay home today. Both of our children are a bit under the weather—just head colds, is all—but she cannot bear to be separated from them when she fears for their health,” he murmured. He turned his attention toward the front doors, wondering how far Viscount Breckinridge might get before he could intercept him.

  “He is not a rake,” Diana stated then, tears still dripping from her cheeks. “I admit, I thought him a bounder at first,” she got out between the hiccups of sobs, noting how her father’s eyebrows seem to elevate at her proclamation. “I didn’t think this...” She waved her hands to indicate the church. “Would really happen. But he’s been nothing but sincere in everything he’s said and done since the day I met him.”

  Ariley frowned. “And when was that?”

  Diana gave a sideways glance. “Thursday last.”

  One of Ariley’s eyebrows suddenly cocked up. “And where was that?”

  “Outside of White’s. I was on my way to Floris to buy a comb.”

  His eyebrows dancing even more at this bit of news, Ariley regarded his daughter for a few seconds before one of those eyebrows arched up even higher. “Did he say you were a ‘ten’?” he asked, amusement suddenly apparent in his question.

  Diana’s eyes widened. She shook her head. “Not at first,” she hedged. “Initially, he said he thought me a ‘seven’.”

  It was Ariley’s turn to widen his eyes, this time in alarm. “That’s it, then. I shall challenge him to a duel in Wimbledon Common,” he announced, his voice loud enough to be heard in the nave.

  Blinking at his proclamation, Diana shook her head. “But you cannot,” she argued with a shake of her head. “He’s done nothing wrong. He saved me, in fact, from making a fool of myself that day.” She was half-tempted to tell him what she had done but thought better of it. “I fear I am to blame in all of this. I should have told him you were my father. I should have told him my mother was a—”

  Her words were cut off when Ariley pressed a finger to her lips. “Do not ever refer to your mother as anything more than the devoted companion she was. I loved her,” he stated, his voice urgent, his hoarse whisper more effective than his usual voice. “I would have taken her as my wife, had I that option,” he vowed.

  Diana stared at her father for several seconds, tears once again collecting in the corners of her eyes. “I always wondered,” she whispered. “Still, I’ve gone and made a cake of this.”

  Angling his head to one side, James Burroughs regarded his daughter and finally allowed a wan smile. “I rather doubt that,” he said on a soft sigh, pulling her into hug. He took another breath and dared a glance into the nave, sure he saw his youngest sister up at the front pew. Poor thing probably thought she was being left at the altar.

  Where the hell is Thorncastle?

  Ariley returned his attention to Diana. “I gave you my name for a reason, Poppet,” he murmured, never having agreed with his daughters’ insistence that they use their mother’s name in their everyday lives. Although the Burroughs name would have given them cachet and a bit of clout, it would have made it both easier and harder in polite Society.

 
I do not wish to gain a position in the Foreign Office just because I have your name, Daisy had said to him, her defiance evident at an early age. Diana had heard the proclamation and realized she, too, wanted to gain a position because of her skills as a teacher—not because her father was the Duke of Ariley. They had their mother to thank for those beliefs, he knew, for Lily Albright would never trade her association with him for a high standing in Society. Nor would she allow her daughters to expect a comfortable life at the duke’s expense. If they didn’t earn their keep from employment in a respectable position, then she would instruct them in an alternative choice. One Lily knew the duke would not abide.

  The one in which she engaged when she met the man. She was never again a courtesan after that day, though.

  What could Ariley do but allow his daughters to live the lives they thought best for their situation? Except, in this case, his name meant something more. Meant something rather important. Meant something to Society. To the peerage.

  “It is times like these when you really must use my name. Your given name,” Ariley stated firmly, his manner bordering on angst. “I do not require your permission to be your father.”

  At Diana’s look of shock, he sighed and realized he was being rather harsh. “I am your father, Poppet. You can take comfort in it or not, but I am not about to give up my claim to you,” he said in a voice that came out as a scold. He winced when he paid witness to her bright eyes, aware that more tears would be falling before long. “You love him, don’t you?” he whispered, a bit of understanding creeping into his voice as he suddenly changed the subject. Diana wouldn’t be crying if she didn’t have feelings for the viscount. If she didn’t think he was lost to her.

  Her eyes hidden by wet lashes, Diana allowed a shrug. “Probably,” she allowed before sniffling. “He was ever so insistent that we marry. I didn’t believe him—I didn’t think any of this would really happen, for if I did, I assure you, I would have told him about you and Mother. So that he could properly ask your permission—” So that he could decide if he really wanted to marry an illegitimate daughter of the ton.

  “Hardly necessary given your age, Poppet,” Ariley said, the endearment at odds with his comment. “I would never want your betrothed to be scared off by the idea of having a duke as a father-in-law,” he added when he noticed her look of bewilderment. “Since it appeared you were about to marry the man, I do hope you planned to tell him sometime soon, though. What then? Did you believe his reaction would be any different?”

  Diana dipped her head, her sniffles suggesting she hadn’t intended any such thing. “I wanted to believe we would marry—he seemed so determined—but I didn’t want to suffer the hurt if it was all just a ruse to get me to accompany him to Gunter’s.”

  The duke blinked. “Gunter’s?” Ariley repeated, his slight nod indicating he was impressed by the viscount’s choice of an establishment to court his daughter. He removed a handkerchief from his waistcoat pocket and offered it to her. “I take it Gunter’s wasn’t a ruse, then?”

  Diana shook her head. “Apparently not. But then I feared if he knew I was a duke’s daughter, he might only be after my dowry,” she reasoned. “I could not abide a marriage of... convenience.”

  Ariley regarded his daughter for a moment, his expression suggesting he understood her concerns. “If you’ve only met him last Thursday, then he must have a special license to wed.”

  Diana nodded. “He does,” she acknowledged. “Even so, am I allowed to be in here? To be married in a church?” she whispered as another round of tears threatened.

  Although he knew illegitimates weren’t supposed to be allowed in church, he wasn’t about to have his own daughter abide the rule. “You are. You have my name. I rather wish you would use it. And you’re under my protection. Never think any less of yourself. Your mother, God rest her soul, never did. One of the reasons I loved her so,” he murmured sadly.

  Diana’s eyes jerked up at his words, her wet lashes glistening in the dim light. He’d said them twice now, although she could never remember him doing so whilst her mother lived. “You did?”

  The duke angled his head to one side. “As God is my witness, I did,” he stated firmly. He swallowed. “Having said that, I must admit to loving my wife, as well. Despite knowing of my devotion to your mother, and to you and your sister, Helen does not deny me that part of my life. As a result, I adore her even more, and I am sure to remind her of my feelings for her every night before bed.”

  “And here I thought it was because she had born you an heir,” Diana said between sniffles.

  Ariley allowed a grin then. “And a daughter, whom I hope you will meet sooner rather than later,” he said as he gathered her into his arms. He felt a good deal of satisfaction in how she allowed him the hug.

  Had the expectations of his life been different—had he not been a duke with a need for an heir—he would have kept his daughters close after the death of their mother. Duty called, though. A dukedom and people who relied on him. Parliament and King and country.

  And now a different duty required his attention.

  “Well, then. I suppose I shall go find your man and give him my permission to marry you,” he stated before giving his daughter a slight bow and moving to the front doors of St. George’s. He turned around suddenly. “Oh, and could you please see to your aunt? I do believe she’s feeling a bit lonely up there at the front of the church.”

  With that, he took his leave of his daughter and the church.

  Chapter 28

  A Future Father-in-Law Steps Up

  Not too surprised to see his future son-in-law in a discussion with his future brother-in-law, the Duke of Airley waited a moment in the unusually bright sunshine outside the church. He was about to make his presence known to the two gentlemen when he heard Viscount Breckinridge’s heartfelt words.

  “I should have asked Ariley’s permission. And had she told me she was Ariley’s daughter, I would have,” he said in a louder voice. “I had the impression she and her father were estranged since his marriage!”

  “You could have asked her as to whom you needed to seek permission,” Thorncastle countered in a hoarse whisper the duke barely overheard.

  The older viscount went up a full notch in Ariley’s estimation at that comment. Viscount Thorncastle had never particularly impressed him, but perhaps there was more to the man than he knew. His sister certainly seemed to think so.

  Ariley jerked his attention back to the two viscounts when he heard Adam say, “I believe I must take my leave of the situation. Ariley is in the church. He and his daughter will be your witnesses on this fine day.” Then he watched as Breckinridge made his way down the church steps. He half expected him to climb into the town coach bearing the Aimsley crest in bright gold paint, but instead, the viscount continued down the pavement to the left.

  James Burroughs blinked. The hell I will, he thought, realizing he needed to pursue the younger viscount to convince him to marry his daughter.

  “Your bride awaits, Thorncastle,” Ariley stated as he passed the older viscount, his quick steps taking him down the flight of steps faster than Adam had taken them. He was abreast of the viscount just as the man passed his coach.

  “My daughter was afraid you would react exactly as you did,” Ariley stated from where he walked alongside Breckinridge. “Or worse, I suppose. Pray tell, what would you have done had you been in her shoes?”

  Breckinridge whirled to regard Ariley, his open mouth almost comical on a man who should have been at the altar saying his vows just about then. Apparently, neither he nor Thorncastle knew that Elise Burroughs was at the front of the church waiting for her betrothed—and her two witnesses—to appear.

  “She is my illegitimate daughter,” Ariley said to Adam, as if he were daring the man to walk faster.

  “That doesn’t matter to me, sir,” Adam replied with a shake of his head. “I wanted her as my viscountess. My countess, when the time came,” he said, his chi
n jutting out in defiance.

  The unspoken ‘but’ hung in the air before Ariley frowned. “But?” he urged.

  “For the wrong reasons, I have since realized. I had an obligation to Fennington... ”

  “Fennington?” Ariley repeated. “What the hell does Felix Turnbridge have to do with this?”

  Adam winced at the duke’s curse but kept his posture ramrod straight. “He’s always been in need of funds. I agreed to marry by my thirtieth birthday so he could win a bet. Today is that day. He reminded me of it just a few moments before I spotted your daughter walking past White’s.” When he noticed how the duke angled his head with an unspoken question, he rolled his eyes. “I thought her a ‘seven’ at the time, Your Grace. A huge mistake I readily admit. I had half a mind to go after her, but then she suddenly stopped and made her way up the steps to the front door of White’s.”

  The duke stopped and stared at Adam. “Wot?” he asked in disbelief.

  “She knows what gentlemen in the bow window are doing whilst they watch the world go by—”

  “You mean whilst they watch women walk by?”

  Adam nodded, a roll of his eyes indicating his guilt at having participated in the act. “That, too,” he agreed. “When the butler said she was asking for me, I had one of those epiphanies. It was fate, I was sure. I had been just about ready to go after her, but she came to me, so... ” He gave a shrug.

  The duke angled his head to one side. “So you decided to propose marriage? Based on only that bit of coincidence?” He was beginning to think it was better his daughter not marry the viscount.

  “But, of course,” Adam countered. “Don’t you see? It was fate. And numbers. From her comments on the topic, I was sure she would have been satisfied to hear she was a ‘five’, but I had already thought her a ‘seven’. So imagine my surprise—my very pleasant surprise—to discover she was neither.” At the duke’s arched eyebrow and expression of confusion, he added, “She was suitably doubtful about me. Once she learned I was a viscount, she might have dropped the skepticism. Might have decided I was a good catch and thrown herself at me with the same violence those doting mothers at Almack’s do with their poor daughters. Instead, she remained guarded despite her... curiosity.”