The Vision of a Viscountess

by Linda Rae Sande

  The flash of a stockinged ankle had him taking in a breath rather slowly. Steady, he warned himself, even though he thrilled at the brief glimpse of the well-turned ankle above her slipper.

  “For the most part,” she replied. “Although there were complaints about the heat and the fact that the Prince Regent didn’t make an appearance.”

  Was he supposed to? Jasper nearly asked. It was rare when Prince Charles attended a ton ball, and he usually only did if it was hosted by a duke. “It was rather warm in Attenborough’s ballroom given how chilly it was last night,” Jasper commented as he moved to the other side of the phaeton and climbed onto the bench. A jolt of something pleasant shot through him when he realized Marianne’s thigh was pressed against his. She didn’t even attempt to move away from him, although if she did, she would no longer be completely seated on the phaeton’s small bench. She might actually topple off!

  “Are you comfortable?” Jasper wondered before he took up the reins.

  “I am,” Marianne replied, daring a glance in his direction. “I must admit, I have never ridden in such a conveyance. It’s rather... exhilarating,” she claimed as the phaeton merged into the late afternoon traffic.

  Exhilarating and frightening.

  She wasn’t wearing her spectacles, so she couldn’t see anything clearly more than three feet in front of her face. Beyond that, the other equipage and horses, buildings and streets, and costermongers and street urchins were just a blur of color and motion.

  “Do you daydream?” he asked, remembering his promise to explain the difference in vision and seeing clearly. “Imagine things in your mind that you wish could be true?”

  Marianne regarded him a moment, rather surprised he would ask such a personal question. “Sometimes,” she hedged.

  “So you see... visions. Like in your dreams.”

  “I do,” she agreed.

  “Do you see them clearly, or are all the edges blurry?”

  Blinking at his query, Marianne gave it a great deal of thought. “I see them clearly,” she admitted in awe, as if she had never given it thought before. She had spent hours daydreaming. Without siblings to play with, and living in a home on the outskirts of a border town, she had to use her imagination or suffer from extreme boredom.

  “Then, just because you cannot see clearly does not mean you lack vision,” he said quietly.

  “Still, I rather wish I could see clearly,” Marianne countered. “Although, given what I think is about to happen to that cart up ahead, perhaps it’s better I do not.”

  Jasper allowed a quiet curse as he pulled back on the reins in an attempt to slow their progress, the move necessary to prevent a collision with said cart. Given Marianne could at least tell it was a cart up ahead suggested she could see better than he originally thought. “You can see that cart?” he half-asked.

  Marianne dipped her head. “I can see a... a rectangular blob with round things beneath,” she said. “Things come into focus as they get closer, which is why I was sure it was about to hit us.”

  Grinning, Jasper dared a glance in her direction. “I don’t yet own a town coach,” he commented. “But if I order one from Tilbury’s this week, there’s a chance it will be ready when we return from our wedding trip.”

  Marianne inhaled sharply. He really does intend to marry me! “I have been wondering something, and thought to ask if you object to my age.”

  Jasper blinked. “Why would I object to your age? What are you? Two-... three-and-twenty, perhaps?” he pretended to guess, remembering what Devonville had said in the study the night before.

  Marianne gasped. “Now you’re being a bounder,” she accused, her chin lifted in the universal manner women used to display their displeasure.

  Jasper blinked again. “Other than last night, I have never been accused of being a bounder,” he claimed, not sure if he should be offended or amused. He dared a glance in her direction, rather surprised to find she looked as if she were about to cry. “Truth be told, your uncle said you were three-and-twenty. I had no reason to doubt his words,” he said quietly.

  “You should have,” she replied with a sigh.

  Frowning, Jasper wondered what she meant. “From your manner last night, I would have assumed you were a bit older—”

  “Older?” she interrupted, her bright blue eyes wide.

  “Accomplished,” Jasper stated, about to curse when a nearby rider on horseback seemed intent on colliding with the phaeton. “Which has me hoping you’re closer to five-and-twenty,” he stated, deciding he couldn’t offend her too terribly much. “But then,” he hedged, rather hoping she would just come out and admit her true age. “I remember you have grown up without the benefit of a mother and may have gained your confident manner from necessity.” He pulled back on the reins as a barouche cut in front of them when he negotiated the last turn before the park’s entrance. “I will admit that since I am older—and a widower—I would prefer a wife closer in age to me.” He knew Marianne had turned to regard him, her stunned expression finally forcing him to glance in her direction. “But if you are only three-and-twenty, I will not mind that either.”

  Allowing a sigh that had her shoulders slumping a bit, Marianne seemed to swallow a sob. “I am six-and-twenty.”

  Jasper had to suppress the urge to laugh, more relieved than amused by her manner. “You needn’t make it sound as if you’re elderly,” he teased.

  “Are you?” she countered. “Elderly, I mean.”

  About to curse at the driver of a landau who was about to sideswipe the barouche in front of them, Jasper frowned his offense. “Of course not!” he replied with a quick shake of his head. “At least, I’ve never thought of one-and-thirty as being old.”

  Marianne seemed visibly relieved by his assurance. “It’s not. I just... seeing as how I cannot see well, I wasn’t completely sure,” she stammered. “Forgive me,” she added as she turned her attention back to the road ahead, or rather the landau that now seemed determined to merge into the barouche so they appeared as one rather wide carriage in her limited vision.

  Had she not been wearing a bonnet that covered the side of her head facing him, Jasper would have kissed her hair. He combined the reins into one fist and covered one of her gloved hands with the other, giving it a quick shake of assurance. “There’s nothing to forgive. Besides, I am rather glad you are as old as you are.”

  “Truly?”

  Nodding, Jasper managed to steer the horse away from the equipage intent on doing damage up ahead. “Older means you probably know more. You’ve had a chance to read more books...” He paused when he noticed her sudden look of surprise, as if he had caught her reading one that very instant. Probably an inappropriate book. Like the one she had read until five o’clock that morning. “You do read?” he half-asked.

  “I do,” she replied, rather hesitant with her response.

  “I don’t mind an educated woman. You know what you like, and what you don’t like. You’re less likely to do something foolish. You’ve already reached your majority and decided what to do with your inheritance. You may have already spent it on something grand or gambled it away.” He paused again. “Do stop me if I’ve assumed wrongly,” he encouraged, his manner once again teasing.

  Marianne angled her head, rather amused by his list of possibilities. “It’s true about the books. About the foolish behavior. As to what I like and don’t like, I suppose it depends, for I have been known to change my mind.”

  Recognizing the opening for what it was, Jasper asked, “Will you be changing your mind about marrying me?” He had to turn his attention back to the landau that now seemed about to run over his horse. Glancing behind him, he had the gelding taking a right turn in an attempt to get as far from the suicidal landau as possible. “It’s your right, of course, but... I hope you will not,” he added in a soft voice.

  Marianne considered his words, rather touched at how he said them. “As for my inheritance, I haven’t yet collected it. I think m
y father was holding out hope I would be wed. So that means I haven’t gambled it away,” she explained before adding, “I know how to play some card games. I’ve even won a few pounds from my father, but that was a long time ago, and truth be told, I think he let me win.”

  Jasper chuckled, his gaze darting between her and the traffic ahead. “You needn’t worry about my gambling. As a man of science, I know the odds are not in my favor, even in a game like faro, and so I do not participate.”

  The mention of him being a man of science had her furrowing her brows. “Are you truly planning a trip to Italy?” she asked as they made their way beneath the gate that marked the entrance into Hyde Park.

  “I am,” he replied with a nod. “A colleague in my field of study is already there. Claims there are Roman mosaics buried in an ancient city. I have prints of old paintings and copies of drawings from the area. There is a well preserved Greek temple and some Roman ruins, but I am most interested in the mosaics,” he explained. “I do hope you’ll join me, seeing as how I’ve been able to obtain an extra ticket for your passage to Sicily,” he added, daring another glance in her direction. “On The Fairweather. With me. I was able to secure a larger cabin for us.”

  Jasper had asked the ticket agent to hold his original cabin for his colleague, James Singleton. He had sent the man to Cambridge to retrieve a trunk containing another archaeologist’s research materials. Dr. Darius Jones, who could usually be found excavating the remains of Roman forts along Hadrian’s Wall, had already been on Sicily for a month. He had sent word to bring the trunk along, claiming he had already made discoveries in an old Roman city near Girgenti but wanted to compare his findings with those of an earlier archaeologist.

  Singleton, Jasper’s friend and fellow archaeologist for more than a decade, had never been a formal student of archaeology, but he had proven his worth on digs in the past. Jasper could only hope he could make it back to London in time for The Fairweather’s departure.

  As for the sleeping arrangements on board, Jasper now wondered if he should have secured yet another cabin for Marianne.

  Will she be amenable to sharing one with me?

  Marianne wondered at her future husband’s words. The way he said he hoped she would join him.

  Was he giving her the option to stay behind?

  Did she want to remain in London? Doing so meant staying with her aunt and uncle, which, when she thought about it, wouldn’t be such an inconvenience for her but certainly would be for a couple who were still enjoying their first few months of marriage. She already felt as if she was preventing them from displaying their obvious affection for one another. “I’ve never been to the Continent,” Marianne finally replied. “Have you been before?”

  The viscount nodded, well aware she hadn’t responded to his query about joining him. “Twice. Both times for research. I’m an archaeologist, you see, so I travel a great deal.”

  “Arky ologist,” she replied, sounding out the word. Her brows furrowed. “Does that mean you study... ancient relics?” she guessed.

  “Indeed,” he replied happily, wondering who had seen to her education. She had obviously learned some Greek. If she knew any Latin, he would be in heaven. “I specialize in Roman artifacts. Their soldiers left behind a good deal of treasure here in England before they took their leave, but I prefer to study the artifacts in their homeland. In Rome and the surrounding lands,” he explained.

  “Where exactly will you go this time?”

  “Girgenti. I plan to do some work I wanted to start the last time I was in Italy, but my finds north of Rome kept me there too long. This time, I hope to unearth the mosaic tile floors in what was once either a temple or the palatial home of a very wealthy citizen. It’s possible there are many, so I hope to uncover what I can.”

  Marianne dared a glance in his direction. Despite her inability to see clearly, she was aware of a conveyance up ahead that seemed determined to collide with their horse. “If you haven’t been, then how do you know it’s there?”

  Allowing a grin, Jasper sighed. “One of my colleagues informed me of the likelihood. He was in Sicily many years ago and has recently returned to continue his work. He’ll be joining me on the dig, although he specializes in a different aspect of Roman culture.”

  Marianne gave his answer some thought before asking, “How long will you be gone?”

  Jasper furrowed a brow. “We will be gone at least until winter makes it too uncomfortable to work out-of-doors,” he replied, his emphasis on the ‘we’ unmistakeable. “Five or six months. More if it stays warm in Italy.” Although he usually wouldn’t go to Italy in the summer, the country seemed to be suffering the same prolonged cold spell the rest of England and Northern Europe were experiencing, the air filled with debris from several volcanoes that made the sunsets glorious and the sun less effective. There had even been reports of red snow falling in the mountains of northern Italy.

  Marianne stared at her intended. “Will we go to the Colosseum?” she asked in awe.

  “We can,” he replied with a nod. “Once I’ve completed my search for mosaics on Sicily.” Even though he didn’t intend to spend more than a few days in the old city, it would be impossible to avoid the home of gladiators and the sight of circuses as they made their way north for sightseeing.

  He had thought to spend most of the trip on the island of Sicily studying the ancient Roman city south of Girgenti, but with a wife on his arm, he realized he had an opportunity to show Marianne far more than a few sites of relics. They could visit Florence for the art and Venice for the glass. Eat rich foods and drink fine wines. Tour cathedrals.

  Make love.

  The thought of taking in the sights of Italy with Marianne on his arm had him looking forward to the trip far more than he had been just the week before.

  “The Forum?” Marianne asked, her breath held in anticipation of his answer.

  Jasper grinned. “Of course.” He paused a moment. “I do hope you’ll be able to see the places we visit.”

  Her body suddenly stiffening on the bench next to him, Marianne seemed to hold her breath once again before she finally responded. “I have a pair of spectacles,” she admitted, her response a bit guarded.

  “Then why aren’t you wearing them now?” he countered as he negotiated the turn onto Rotten Row, pausing the horse so that a curricle could manage the turn from the other direction. “Do you have them with you?”

  Marianne inhaled sharply, partly because she found she had to hold onto his arm or risk being tossed off the phaeton when he resumed their advance through the park. “I do,” she replied as she indicated a reticule that hung from her other wrist.

  “I should think you would wish to wear them,” Jasper commented, rather liking the fact that Marianne had seen to gripping his arm as opposed to the front of the seat when the phaeton made the sharp turn. “Half the reason for coming to the park during the fashionable hour is to see everyone who comes out for the daily parade.”

  Blinking, Marianne considered his comment. “And the other half?” she queried.

  “Why, to be seen, of course,” Jasper replied with a teasing grin.

  Marianne gave a start. “Which is why I will not be wearing the spectacles on this ride, my lord,” she murmured. Or anywhere else out-of-doors, she nearly added.

  Frowning, Jasper considered her words. “They cannot be that bad,” he countered, turning to regard her when he was sure his horse had merged them safely into the line of equipage parading in Rotten Row.

  “According to my aunt, they are hideous,” she stated, trying her best to maintain a happy demeanor despite the subject of their conversation.

  Jasper blinked. “Hideous?” he repeated. “That cannot be. Surely your beauty overcomes a pair of eyeglasses, no matter how bad they might be,” he said lightly.

  Marianne felt the heat of her blush even before she was sure her face displayed it. A combination of shock and awe and admiration for the man nearly robbed her of words jus
t then. “You are very kind to say so,” she managed. “But according to my aunt, I shouldn’t wear them in polite Society. Or where anyone might actually see me.”

  A combination of shock and awe and disappointment in whichever aunt had put voice to such an instruction had Jasper holding his tongue just then. “To deprive a young lady of the ability to see more than a few feet in front of her face seems rather shortsighted,” he said with no hint of humor. At Marianne’s sudden grin and giggle, Jasper had to allow a grin of his own. “No pun was intended, my lady,” he added.

  After a few minutes of acknowledging greetings from a few riders on horseback as well as those who were walking along Rotten Row, Jasper regarded Marianne until she turned to face him. “What is it?” she asked, her face no longer partially hidden by her bonnet.

  “If I were to take us to a place where no one can see, will you put on your spectacles? I wish to... to share a particularly beautiful sight, but I would like you to be able to see it.”

  Marianne dipped her head, realizing that if they married, he would eventually see her wearing the spectacles. Perhaps it was better he do so now. If it was apparent he was appalled—that he couldn’t abide the sight of her wearing them—then she could break off the betrothal. Save him from having to marry her and her spectacles. Save him from spending a life with a woman he couldn’t abide the sight of.

  Especially if he didn’t appreciate fleshy breasts.

  And if he didn’t seem bothered by the eyewear?

  Well, then perhaps he could abide fleshy breasts, too.

  Marianne had a thought that perhaps he couldn’t see well, either. But if that were the case, Jasper wouldn’t be able to drive them in the park, his command of the ribbons evident in how he managed to avoid so many collisions despite the close spacing of the equipage around and in front of them. Even without being able to see clearly, she could tell how close everyone else was to the phaeton.