The Viscount and the Heiress

by Dominique Eastwick

  “Yes.” She didn’t know what she expected, but this cold detachment hadn’t been it. In her head, or perhaps her heart, she’d hoped he would be overjoyed. That he would proclaim his love and mutter words Lord Byron would find befitting for one of his books.

  “I need to inform my guest I am no longer available to court his daughter.”

  “Did you love her?” she asked before she could stop herself.

  “Who?”

  “The daughter?” The conversation was making her dizzy.

  “Nay. I have never even laid eyes on her. It was to be a marriage of convenience.” He stepped away from the window. “Mr. Quincy’s daughter would become a countess, and we’d get a flush of funds so desperately needed. A win for everyone involved.”

  “But I thought you said you would never marry for money.” The words were out before she could stop them.

  “Things have a way of changing when I am staring down the door of debtors’ prison and my brothers can’t eat. I can no longer afford anything, not even my pride.” He turned to her. “Much like your ideals have changed, so did mine. I no longer have the luxury of idealism or much hope.”

  “Jonathon, I—”

  “Shall we tell your father together or shall I break the news to him?” It was now obvious he wasn’t looking for words of hope or perhaps platitudes.

  “We can do it together.” She stared down at her hands.

  “Very well. If you’ll wait here for a few minutes, I must deal with other issues.”

  Jonathon closed the door to the library behind him, leaving Isabel alone. He wondered if he had just been granted a piece of heaven or hell. The only woman he had ever or would ever love had just asked him to marry her because she was carrying his child. But their betrothal had not happened the way he had hoped. She was marrying because she had no other option. He would be damned if he would allow her to think this was about her money.

  He entered his office to find his brother and Mr. Quincy shaking hands. “Pleasure, sir.”

  “What is going on?” He hoped to hell Gabriel hadn’t made a mess of things.

  “I shall inform the local minister, and my daughter shall arrive within the fortnight.” Mr. Quincy offered Jonathon a smile and a handshake with a brief apology before he walked out.

  “What did you do?”

  “I let him see that if all he wanted was the name, that the second son might be a better choice for a young girl who has never been out in society. She couldn’t possibly be up for the responsibility of being a countess and what the title entails.”

  “You shouldn’t have to marry her. I don’t want you to make that sacrifice.”

  “But it’s okay for you to sacrifice everything. Your life, your heart, for us?” Gabriel slammed the door shut. “You aren’t a bloody martyr. We all want to help. Damn it, we need to do something. This can’t be on your shoulders alone.”

  “I will handle it.”

  “Too bad, William is out talking to another of the families who has approached us but Father thought were beneath us.”

  “I am well aware of his pompous beliefs.”

  “He had me pretend to be you.”

  The sudden shift in the conversation had him feeling like he was on unstable ground. “What are you on about?”

  “May god forgive me because I doubt you ever will. Please, sit down.” When Jonathon shook his head, he continued. “The morning of your banishment, Miss Hathaway came to visit, and Father had me pretend to be you. At that time, no one could tell the difference unless we were side by side.”

  A chill ran down his spine, encasing his very being in ice. “What did you do?”

  “We made it seem like the only reason you were after her was her dowry. You had to marry her for money, and you were doing it under Father’s orders.”

  “I see.” His whole world had fallen apart, and a brother he loved more than himself had played the cruelest part in the game.

  “You cannot know the guilt I have.” He reached out but let his hand fall. “It’s why you must let me marry Mr. Quincy’s daughter. It matters not if she is ugly or a hag. I will pay my penance. Especially if you can finally marry Isabel.”

  The pain in Gabriel’s voice broke through the cavernous chasm of his soul. He knew better than most what their father had been like. Who was he to blame anyone who survived the best they could. Still he couldn’t quite bring himself to absolve his brother of his sins.

  “I tried to tell you, but you had the royal row and then left. You didn’t come back, though father kept saying you would with your tail between your legs. I know you came back when William was sick, but, by then, I didn’t know how to tell you.” Gabriel went to the desk and pulled out an old ledger. “We hid this in here, knowing father would never find it. It’s our correspondence with Madame Evangeline. It was our way of trying to make it right. All of us.”

  He glanced at the letters, all begging for help. All pleading with Madame Eve to give him one last chance with the woman he loved. “You were trying to get us back together.”

  “We didn’t have enough money, not even close, but we pleaded our case, said sometimes true love was more important. We asked if we could pay our debt little by little.” He handed over the letter. “She said she would take care of it.”

  “I see.”

  “But then you never went. We were sure you would never go. Rumor had it you had gambled the date away.”

  “I did. But, apparently, it’s nonnegotiable,” he muttered, looking over the letters again. “You never could have known Izzy would sign up for the service as well.” At the bottom of the letter, Madame Eve penned they were to trust her. She would make the evening happen. “We only wanted to make it right.” He handed him a second sheet of paper. “Mr. Quincy has agreed to pay the death tax. That should keep you out of prison for the time being. We will figure out the rest.”

  With the weight of prison off his shoulders, he could focus on something else for a minute. “Does Jacob still want to pursue the collar?”

  “He does.”

  “I will return shortly.” He might not be able to get the two youngest back in Eton yet, but he could get one the career he wanted. Reaching for his top hat, he prepared to escort Isabel to her father. She stood as he entered the room. After a second’s hesitation, cross to his side. Together, they made their way down the hill and across the field to her family estate. “How long have you known?”

  “About the babe?” She didn’t wait for him to answer before continuing. “I knew at Windenshire’s wedding and had searched you out to tell you.”

  “I see.”

  “I would have told you, but you had enough on your plate.” She stopped. “I know the last month has been hard. I am so sorry for the loss of your father.”

  “I appreciate the sentiment, but I never had a ‘father’ as you understand the word.” To be honest, he’d had little time to think on his father’s death. There had been too much to do. Every night, he crawled into bed, exhausted and worn out, simply to awaken a few hours later to start all over again. “I can only hope to be a better parent and earl than the one before me.”

  “Oh, Jonathon, the way you looked after your brothers alone shows you are more of a parent than he ever was.” Forcing him to look at her, she cupped his face. “If I thought for a second you were anything like your father, I would have raised this child on my own, society be damned.”

  “I pray you do not regret your decision.” A part of him wanted to get on his knees and beg her to love him again. To tell her what she had seen all those years ago had been a setup. A tableau perfectly played out to drive the two young lovers apart. But that had been years ago,, and, the truth was, they needed to build a new relationship on where they were today. Those young naïve teens were long gone. Instead, he removed her hand from his face and placed it on his arm.

  Mr. Hathaway, who had made his fortune in shipping, greeted them in his office. �
��To what do I owe this visit, your lordship?”

  After removing his hat and coat, he reached out a hand in greeting. “I’d hoped to have a moment of your time.”

  “Of course. Come in.” He cast his daughter a knowing glance. “Shall you call for your mother?”

  “Yes, Papa,” she said and left the two of the alone.

  “I assume you are here to ask for Isabel’s hand in marriage,” the older man asked without preamble.

  “You would be correct in your assumption.”

  “Although I have no objection to you as a man, your financial situation is less than glorious.” He indicated an empty chair, and Jonathon, though he would have preferred to stand, gave in to the other man’s request. “After all these years, and with the recent passing of your father, perhaps we could delay things through the proper time of mourning.”

  He hated having to break such news to a man who had been only kind to him and his brothers. “Time unfortunately is not on our side.”

  “I see.” Mr. Hathaway eased down into his seat, color seeping from his cheeks. “Will there be time for the banns to be read?”

  He had to give the older man credit. He’d taken the news better than Jonathon would have, had the roles been reversed. “I am planning to head to the archbishop this afternoon.”

  “So this is less of a request for her hand and more of an informing me you are taking it.” He leaned back in his chair. “It would be within my right to withhold her dowry.”

  “I am not asking for any money.” Jonathon knew the other man’s disbelief and understood it. “In fact, I want all her money to stay within your family. The earldom is in dire straits, and I do not want anyone going after your money to pay the debts. I do not want your daughter ever to think it was for her money I am marrying her.”

  “Are you mad? Giving you the money, if it keeps you out of prison, is best for my daughter and my grandchild.”

  “This part of the wedding contract is not up for discussion. It is nonnegotiable.” He could no longer sit still and moved to the window to gaze up at the manor on the hill. His family seat resembled a deserted relic. “But I do request that you maintain her lifestyle. I, of course, cannot afford even the fabric of the day gown she wears today.”

  “So, we maintain her bills while she lives under your roof.”

  “Until such a time that I can start to pay.” The words tasted like sawdust on his tongue. But pride no longer had a place in his life. Hadn’t for quite a while.

  “I have always liked you, milord, but I pray you don’t let your honor or pride override common sense.”

  “Common sense is all I have left. I long ago abandoned my pride,” he assured. “For the time being, the threat of prison no longer looms on the horizon.”

  “Henry.” Mrs. Hathaway came in, beaming. “We have a wedding to plan. And about time, too. These two have taken so long to get here, I began to doubt they would see the light.”

  “With all due respect, darling, Jonathon and I have been discussing the situation as he is still in mourning. A small, quiet special license might be best.” He sent a knowing look to Jonathon. “I believe we have negotiated the terms of the wedding contract.”

  “I will be off, then.” Jonathon announced. “Is my horse still within your stables?”

  “He is. Isabel, why don’t you see your betrothed out while your mother and I discuss a small wedding feast for the family.”

  She led Jonathon to the stables and asked the Samuel their stable boy to bring his steed. “Is there anyone you want to have here to stand up for you?”

  Under other circumstances, he would have invited the world to witness them being wed. But, at the moment, he had never felt more alone. “No. I am sure one of my brothers will act as a witness.” He looked at the sun. “If I want to be back before nightfall, I need to be off now.”

  “Be careful.”

  He fought every nerve ending that demanded he pull her into his arms and claim a kiss. But, unless she could give her heart to him, she could never be truly his again. As he rode from the stable, he had a renewed sense of purpose. His mother had made him promise that when he had children, he would take good care of them and love their mother. She might not be there to see, but he’d keep his word.

  He had what he had always wanted, Isabel at his side, and yet she couldn’t be farther away.

  The light-blue day gown with the small pink flowers had seemed like a good idea, but, overnight, this baby decided that staying hidden was not going to happen. Since telling him three days ago, everything had changed. “How obvious is it that I am indisposed?”

  “Only to you, ma’am.”

  Isabel turned to the side and rubbed the ruched skirt down. “Are you sure?”

  “When you do that, ’tis obvious, so stop doing that.”

  “It’s time. The archbishop has arrived.” Her mother came in, holding a small bouquet. “You look beautiful.”

  “Is he here?” She didn’t know why she was feeling so nervous, as if Jonathon might leave her at the altar. This from the man who had asked her more than once for her hand, yet now she worried he wouldn’t want her. Perhaps it was the space he gave her, not physically but emotionally. He referred to her as Miss Hathaway in a cold, aloof manner. He also seemed so very tired. She wondered why the weight of the world should be still upon him when his financial issues were about to come to an end.

  “He has been here for almost thirty minutes. His brothers came over this morning to help set up tables by the lake.”

  “His brothers? But we have plenty of servants to set up.”

  “Apparently, they are all anxious to see you both tie the knot. I don’t know the boys well, but I have never until this day seen them smile, and they have been nearly giddy. I wish no one ill, but the old earl….”

  “Was a monster.” She looked out her bedroom window in the direction of her new home. “Jonathon used to tell me some of the evils that went on in that house.”

  “Isabel, you might have to be patient with Jonathon. The stress of the earldom will take its toll. You must be there to support him when he needs a partner. Listen when he needs a confidant and encourage when he needs a coach.”

  “Hopefully, the influx of money from my dowry will help ease some stress.” When her mother said nothing, she turned from the window and looked at her. Her mother was literally biting her lip. “What is it? What aren’t you telling me?”

  Her mother shuffled her feet. The longer the delay, the more Isabel worried. So many scenarios ran through her head.

  “Mother, please.”

  “Your father said Jonathon had refused to take a dime of your dowry.”

  “How can he do that?” He needed the blunt. Hell, he had been about to marry a woman he had never met because going to jail would have been a hardship for his brothers. “He will end up in debtors’ prison without the money.”

  “I don’t know the details, but I do know that looks to be a distant possibility. He asked your father to have his lawyer look into selling his London home.”

  “Sell his place in town?”

  Her mother nodded and offered a kind smile. “He is doing everything he can to bring the estate to rights.”

  “But if my money can help….”

  “He won’t take it.” Her mother gripped her hands. “Your father has tried to persuade him.”

  “He can’t take on the extra burden of me, too.”

  “On that account, he did ask that your father continue to support you financially.”

  “Stupid pride.” Anger ran through her.

  “Perhaps, or perhaps he wants you to know he is marrying you for you.” Her mother’s soft smile didn’t cover the concern. “He was quite adamant about it, said there would be no wedding if your father didn’t agree to those terms.”

  She would deal with this later on. She hadn’t wanted him to marry her because of money, but now that they were getting marri
ed, it seemed downright insane for him to not take what was offered.

  Her father met her on the back veranda to escort her down to the lake. The soft kiss he placed on her temple brought a tear to her eye. With three failed engagements, and she was ending up with the first man she had ever loved. The one she had always dreamt of.

  She knew the moment Jonathon caught sight of her. He froze mid-speech, his lips parted, and he stood stone-still. As she approached his side, a smile started with his eyes, giving her hope. A softness she hadn’t seen since their time at Madame Evangeline’s, made a small important appearance.

  “You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen,” he murmured.

  They may no longer be a love match, but she could ask for no better reaction. He took her hand and placed it on his arm as they turned to the archbishop, who offered them a grim smile. The seriousness of the marriage rite had been droned into them both the evening before. “Are we ready?”

  “Yes,” Jonathon answered for them.

  “Wait.” A deep voice boomed from up the hill. She turned to see six people coming toward them in a full run. Three men and their wives. As they came closer, Wolfe Thane, the Duke of Foxhaven demanded, “Are we too late?”

  “What are you doing here?” Jonathon asked, incredulous.

  “You didn’t think you could get leg shackled and not have us here to witness it, did you?” Lord Andrew Masterson, Earl of Windenshire, declared.

  “I don’t understand,” Jonathon muttered.

  “Well understand this.” Foxhaven clapped Jonathon on the back. “Three separate messengers came to inform me of your upcoming nuptials. I have to say that was two more than were needed. We were packed and ready when the other two came to the door. We sent for these four but discovered they were already on their way, too.”

  “There is a team of messengers from all three houses now riding all over England. All to insure we arrived on time,” Simon Winston, the Marquis of Breckinridge, managed through deep breaths.