The Secrets of a Viscount

by Linda Rae Sande

  Ariley arched an eyebrow in understanding. “She made you work for her affection.”

  Adam’s eyes widened at the comment before he dropped his gaze to the pavement. “She did,” he admitted softly. “Although I wish to believe it was hers from the moment I first spotted her.” After a moment, Adam resumed his stroll.

  Ariley rejoined him as he considered the comment. He could do worse than Adam Comber, the future Earl of Aimsley, for a son-in-law. Much worse. As to whether he could do better, he would never know. He was quite sure Diana would not have been such a watering pot back at the church if she didn’t feel some sort of affection for the viscount. If she was left at the altar, she might never deign to consider marriage again. As her father, he wanted her to have a protector—and he preferred that the man be her husband rather than a lover or an unscrupulous rake.

  He often worried about Daisy, his eldest daughter, and why she never could divulge her whereabouts when she sent brief letters to him. If she had taken up her mother’s profession, he certainly didn’t know with whom, and he was sure he would know if she had. What could have Daisy called away from London for months at a time? He knew her bank account was flush with funds other than those he had bestowed on her when she had reached her majority. It was almost as if the girl was a spy for His Majesty’s Home Office.

  Ariley suddenly blinked.

  Or the Foreign Office.

  He made a mental note to broach the subject with Viscount Chamberlain when he was suddenly reminded of Elise. After what she had been through with Lord Lancaster—damn the cur—Ariley had never thought she would consider a second marriage. Thorncastle had held her in his heart for over eighteen years so that she might be his first and only wife.

  His first wife, her second marriage, his daughter’s first heartbreak on the viscount’s thirtieth birthday and the eve of her twenty-fourth birthday. By a man who thought her a ‘ten’. On the eleventh of May.

  Jesus, it was true what the viscount had said.

  It was all about the numbers.

  The Duke of Ariley stopped suddenly, and after a few more steps, Adam finally did the same. He turned to regard the duke. “What is it?”

  “What the hell are you doing out here? Walking as fast as you can away from St. George’s?” Ariley countered as he pretended to regard one his fingernails. “My sister, Lady Lancaster, is up at the front of the church, by the way. Waiting to get married to the love of her life. She cannot do so without witnesses.”

  “I love her,” Adam stated, straightening to his almost six-foot height. He blinked suddenly. “Your daughter, that is. Not your sister,” he clarified.

  James Burroughs regarded Adam for a moment, feeling a bit of relief at hearing the clarification and even more at the conviction in his declaration. His lips quirked at the expression the man displayed. An expression that suggested Adam Comber had at one time given up on love. On life in general. “I am not the one you have to convince,” Ariley replied, his attention no longer on his fingers. “You have my permission to marry my daughter. I insist you do so, in fact. Now go get hers,” he ordered as he turned and realized that Adam Comber hadn’t been walking away from the church, but merely around to the side of it. A nearby door apparently led into the front of the church.

  Adam blinked. And blinked again as he halted his steps and regarded the duke. My future father-in-law, he thought before he allowed an almost audible gasp. “Aye, sir,” he said with a quick bow. He was through the side door and halfway into the sanctuary before he realized Diana wasn’t there.

  At least, not at the altar. Or in the front pew.

  And neither was Elise Burroughs Batey. But Lord Thorncastle sat in a front pew across the aisle with his hands clasped between his knees. His expression suggested he might faint at any moment.

  “You look as if you’re having second thoughts," Adam said sotto voice. “Are your feet cold?”

  The older viscount gave him a glance, but not one of annoyance. “I have a confession to make,” Thorncastle whispered.

  Adam blinked. “Is the priest not available?”

  Thorncastle frowned and shook his head. “I could never admit I’m still a... a virgin to a priest,” he countered, his eyebrows nearly into his hairline.

  The younger viscount was sure he heard wrong. Why, he could swear Lord Thorncastle had just claimed he was a virgin. The man had to be well past thirty—probably past five-and-thirty—how was such a condition possible for any man over the age of sixteen?

  “You heard right, Breckinridge,” Thorncastle continued sadly. “Now I must decide how I’m going to inform my new bride,” he added with a roll of his eyes.

  Adam could barely remember his life before he had been bedded by one of the housemaids at Aimsley Park, the summer retreat his father’s earldom used as a hunting lodge and sometime-residence when he wasn’t in London. How old had he been on that auspicious day? Fifteen? Sixteen?

  What would he say to Diana should he find himself in the same condition as her? Why, it was doubtful they would know what to do! How to do it. What to put where. And when. How to move and how to stroke and caress and...

  Jesus! I am marrying a virgin, he thought suddenly. He would have to be the one to teach Diana what went where and when. How to move, and how to stroke and caress and... well, she already knew how to kiss, thank the gods!

  “You haven’t yet told her?” Adam asked as he moved to join the older viscount.

  Thorncastle shook his head. “No. I thought perhaps I could just...”

  “Pretend you knew what you were doing? Christ, Thorncastle, she’s a widow. She’ll know you don’t know what you’re doing before you’ve doffed your robe!”

  Frowning at the curse—they were in a church, for God’s sake—Thorncastle rather wished he had kept his mouth shut. “I just wish to know what to say,” he implored.

  Wishing to find his bride so he could wed her and begin doing the very things he had just imagined, Adam allowed a sigh of frustration. “You tell her she has always been the most important woman in the world. The woman for whom you’ve been waiting to perform the most intimate act—besides kissing, of course. As a result, she needn’t be concerned about contracting the French pox or some other god-awful disease,” he murmured, thinking his response sounded rather simple, if not reasonable.

  Thorncastle regarded Adam for a long moment. “You’re a genius. That’s exactly what I’m going to do. There is a good deal of truth to your words, I might add. I just have to make her believe me.”

  Relieved at how easy that was, Adam sobered. “I must take my leave of you and find my betrothed. I have an apology to make,” he said as he got to his feet. “Courage,” he murmured before he headed down the center aisle.

  Chapter 29

  Vows by the Numbers

  Emboldened by the duke’s words and by Thorncastle’s devotion to his bride-to-be, Adam Comber had a thought to call out Diana’s name at the top of his lungs. He had a thought to follow it with, “I love you,” just as loudly. But the quiet inside St. George’s was almost deafening. As if any attempt at making a noise would simply be swallowed up, never to be heard by human ears.

  Quite sure she hadn’t left by way of the front doors, Adam hurried down the center aisle of the church, his gaze bouncing left and right in an attempt to discover any other exits from the church. He was halfway down one aisle and nearly out of the sanctuary when he overheard a slight sniffle.

  Pausing, he whirled around to find Diana in a pew. Seated next to Elise Burroughs Batey, she appeared ever so sad, her head nestled into the older woman’s shoulder, her expression completely at odds with how she had looked the moment before the Duke of Ariley had made his entrance just...

  Had that only been a half-hour ago?

  He gave Elise a beseeching look, which had the older woman giving Diana a quick hug and a kiss to her cheek. “I’ll just be up in the front with Lord Thorncastle,” he heard Lady Lancaster whisper.

  As she passe
d Adam on her way, Elise gave him a testy glance, suggesting she was none too pleased with him.

  Adam could hardly blame her. He wasn’t too pleased with himself, either. Christ! He had fallen in love with a duke’s daughter and nearly bungled his chance at a life with her!

  Perhaps he had already bungled it!

  Adam slipped into the pew and settled next to Diana. He had half a mind to kiss her on the cheek, much like Elise had just done, but instead he took one of her gloved hands in his and squeezed it gently. “Your father has given me permission to marry you,” he murmured. “I am honored, of course...” He paused when he noticed her widened eyes.

  “Honored?” she repeated, the word interrupted due to a sob.

  “Indeed,” Adam replied. “For I have done the math.”

  Diana blinked. “The math?” she repeated, wiping an eye with an enormous handkerchief.

  “Yes. As I told you the day I met you, it’s not my strong suit, but I can count,” he said, his manner most serious. “Number one. As a duke’s daughter and a teacher of young ladies of the ton, you will no doubt make an exceptional countess one day.”

  A sob and a sniffle were Diana’s only response. He soldiered on. “Number two. Today is my birthday. I am thirty, the age at which I promised my best friend I would be wed. Based on that promise, he did a rather foolish thing and engaged in a bet from which he stands to gain a good deal of blunt should I be wed this day. If I do not wed, he may lose some money, although not so much as to send him to debtors prison. I do not wish to disappointment him.” When he noticed Diana’s frown, Adam realized he probably should have left out the bit about the bet.

  “You’re only marrying to win a bet?” she asked in dismay.

  Adam blinked. “I gain nothing from the bet,” he countered with a shake of his head. “Well, I hope to win you, I suppose,” he amended wondering if she’d already forgotten point number one. He took a breath. “Number three. I have done the figures for how long I would last without you in my life.”

  This had her lifting her tear-filled eyes to his, although she didn’t say a word in response to his odd comment.

  “I believe I would die of a broken heart, you see,” he went on. “I would last two, three days at most.” He sighed rather dramatically. “Because, number four. I love you. Despite having only known you a few days, I cannot imagine spending the rest of my life without you.” He paused and took both her hands in his. “My beautiful, sweet Diana. I apologize for my earlier outburst. I was so stunned that the duke would do what he did—in a church, no less—and call you by such an inappropriate endearment, I found my ire already stoked when you said your words.” He allowed a sigh. “My reaction was unforgivable. I rather wish I could turn back time, so that we could do this all over again, for had I known you were Ariley’s daughter, I would have sought his permission before even suggesting we marry.” He suddenly frowned and swallowed. Hard. “That’s not quite true,” he stated suddenly. “I would have done the math and made it quite clear I intended to take you as my wife no matter what he said.”

  Diana regarded Adam for a long moment, a hiccup forcing her to sniffle again. “Even knowing I was born on the wrong side of the blanket?”

  Adam allowed a wan smile. “Blankets don’t matter, my sweeting,” he said with a shake of his head. He had a brief thought as to what his mother and father might think, but decided they would be more impressed he was marrying a duke’s daughter than offended that she was baseborn. He could introduce her as Diana Burroughs, after all. Ariley had said she had his name.

  At Diana’s look of disbelief, he gave a shrug.

  “But you were angry with me—”

  “Because you didn’t tell me you were a duke’s daughter,” he interrupted. “It was only fair you give me a chance to ask your father’s permission to marry you. You had me believing your father was no longer part of your life.” When he noted how her brows furrowed at his comment, he added, “When we were at Gunter’s.”

  Diana nodded as she replayed parts of their conversation in her head, remembering she had been rather evasive when speaking about her parents. Deliberately so. But back then, she hadn’t believed anything would come of the viscount’s claim that he wished to marry her. “Truly, though. What would you have done differently if I had?” she asked in a whisper. “Am I to believe you wouldn’t have taken your leave of me that very moment at Gunter’s? Appalled at having learned you were in the company of an illegitimate daughter?” This last was said in a whisper, as if she thought her words would bring down a bolt of lightning from the church’s ornate ceiling.

  Adam allowed a wan smile followed by a grin that seemed to grow larger by the second. “I would not have, for it doesn’t matter. In fact, had I known, I might have bought you the scent you thought inappropriate at Floris instead of the citrusy one I did...” He paused to sniff the air around her, his eyes closing as he breathed in the fresh scent. “... And a far better hairbrush than the one that matches the comb you acquired.” At her widened eyes—he loved those blue-gray eyes!—he went on. “I would have purchased the naughty night dress I thought might suit you instead of the virginal night rail I caught you staring at in that one modiste’s shop. And I would have had my father buy you a Thoroughbred instead of the Arabian that’s being delivered to the mews behind my townhouse tomorrow afternoon,” he continued, his hand gripping hers just a bit harder. “He wanted you to have it as a wedding gift.”

  Inhaling sharply at each of the items he listed, Diana stared at her betrothed for a long time before giving her head a shake. “But the hair brush is beautiful.”

  Adam blinked before holding up the fingers of his free hand. He counted out each of the four items he had mentioned before countering with, “I am relieved you find it so.”

  “You’re quite sure it wasn’t for someone else?” she whispered in query.

  Her betrothed’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Do you suppose I should have bought one for my mother?”

  Her arms were around his neck before Adam knew quite what was happening. He felt her lips near his earlobe and heard her barely contained squeal of delight. Grinning at her before he wrapped his arms about her shoulders and pulled her into an entirely inappropriate kiss (given they were in the sanctuary of St.George’s), Adam allowed a sigh. “Marry me, Diana Burroughs. Marry me, and be my viscountess.”

  Diana giggled in delight. “I will, you bounder.”

  She was quite sure she had never thought to hear applause in a church, but Diana giggled when she did.

  For Elise and her betrothed were clapping and cheering in delight from where they stood together at the front of the church.

  “Shall we?” Adam asked as he released his hold on Diana.

  “Yes,” she agreed. They moved from the pew to the front of the church just as a bishop appeared from a side door. Apparently oblivious to what had been happening, the man waited until Diana and Adam joined them at the altar and then proceeded with the ceremony.

  Given how pale Thorncastle appeared, Adam was sure the man would faint before the service was complete. But the older viscount survived his vows, and even seemed amused at the mention of ‘forsaking all others’.

  Before the clock struck noon, the two couples were joined in holy matrimony as James Burroughs watched from his seat in the third pew. His eyes wet with unshed tears, the duke made his own vow to stay in his daughter’s life—and his sister’s—despite his ducal responsibilities. Life was short, he knew, and he had no intention of losing the ones he loved.

  Chapter 30

  A Post-Wedding Conversation

  Later that day

  “I must admit to a bit of nervousness,” Godfrey said as he lifted Elise into his arms and carried her over the threshold, up the stairs, and into the mistress suite at Thorncastle House.

  “As do I,” Elise countered, her gaze taking in his obviously nervous demeanor. Faith! The man looked as if he might faint!

  “You’ve been married
before,” he replied, the words coming out in a kind of complaint.

  “True, but not to a man I...” She paused, wondering if she should admit her true feelings for her late husband, for the man had never declared his love for her because she was sure he had no capacity to feel such an emotion. She sighed in exasperation. “To a man for whom I have always felt affection.”

  The words were the most welcome Godfrey had heard in his entire life. “I adore you,” he murmured in a whisper, setting her down next to the bed. He glanced around, as if he were seeing the mistress suite for the very first time.

  This is it, then. This was the night he would finally bed a woman. The night he would give up the mantle of male virginity. The night he would make love to a woman who should have already been his wife for nearly twenty years.

  He glanced at the door that connected the mistress suite to the master suite by way of a dressing room. He had certainly been in that room enough times in his life. “I’ll... give you some time—”

  “You’ll do no such thing, my lord,” Elise countered, her eyes dark and daring in how she regarded him. She was standing next to the bed, one of her hands pulling the counterpane down the bed so the quilt was exposed. She reached for the edge of the quilt and pulled it down as well, leaving only the bright, white bed linens to show. “My lady’s maid has the evening off, if you’ll recall.” One of her eyebrows arched up as if Godfrey was to blame.

  He stared at her in alarm. Good God! He had given her lady’s maid the night off. As well as his valet. He imagined the two servants canoodling in their quarters on the floor above and felt an overwhelming sense of jealousy. At least they probably knew what they were doing when it came to making love.