The Viscount Who Seduced Her (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Scarlett Osborne

  “I see,” Michael replied. “I had not considered that, but I do see your point, Father.”

  “Well, I am glad that you finally understand the importance of this matter,” his father replied, sounding more tired than frustrated. “Now, I am telling you that you must make more of an effort to ensure that Lady Paulina likes you. Have I made myself clear?”

  “Yes, Father, that is perfectly clear.”

  “Good,” his father said, and then he stood up abruptly. “You may go.”

  Michael stood up and nodded to his father by way of farewell. He turned and walked out of the room, taking care to keep his face neutral, although in reality his mind was racing. He had no idea what he might do to make Lady Paulina like him, beyond what he had already done, but he understood now that it was not merely a matter of needing a wife.

  Chapter 7

  The following weekend, Betsey had a day off of work and went to visit her parents in the village of Tinsworth. She could have ridden there in just a few minutes, but she had no horse available to her. It took her about an hour to walk there, but she did not mind. The weather was quite fine, and she enjoyed the fresh air.

  It had rained for the past several days and she had been shut up inside the house with Lady Paulina. Her mistress had made a game of dressing Betsey in some of her gowns from last season, which had helped to pass the time, but had eventually become a bit tiresome. It also meant that Betsey had twice as many gowns to clean and press at the end of the day.

  In between playing dress-up and needlework, Lady Paulina had spent most of those days talking to Betsey about how she might convince her father to give up on the idea of marrying his daughter to the Viscount of Somerwich.

  As they had previously discussed, Lady Paulina was now sure that the solution would be to convince him that the alternative was just as politically beneficial. However, after coming to this conclusion, Lady Paulina had merely talked herself in circles for hours on end.

  “If I follow my heart, our estate would be expanded as well. Even more so than if I marry the Viscount of Somerwich,” she had said, over and over again. “But Father would not gain a political ally. Surely increasing his land holdings is more important? Although I suppose he might care more for politics than for land.”

  She had debated this issue for hours, championing each side at one time or another. Betsey had not contributed to the conversation, other than to listen politely and nod. Truthfully, she had no idea whether the land or politics were more important to the Earl. She could only assume that his priority was politics, since he had chosen the son of a political rival to introduce to his daughter first.

  Unbidden, thoughts of the Viscount came into her mind, and she thought about him for much of her walk home. I must not let myself get caught up in thoughts of the Viscount, for there can be no future there, she reminded herself periodically. Still, she would hardly be human if she did not notice that he was the handsomest gentleman she had ever laid eyes upon.

  The accusations made by Simon were troubling to her. She found that she had a visceral reaction to the thought of him taking advantage of some poor girl in his family’s employ. She could not have said why it bothered her so much. She had spoken barely ten words to the Viscount, in truth she did not really know him at all, but she felt certain somehow that he was not a rogue.

  Betsey told herself that the stories her brother had heard might not be true at all. He had only been at Hillfield’s estate for two days, he had no way of knowing whether the source of his gossip was reliable. And even if the stories were true, there were any number of men who might be responsible for the situation. There was no particular reason to believe that the Viscount had done anything wrong.

  When Betsey finally arrived at her parents’ cottage, she felt that she had exhausted all of the thoughts she could possibly have about the subject of Lady Paulina and the Viscount.

  The cottage was small, but Betsey thought it was more beautiful than any of the grand estates she had visited since becoming a lady’s maid. As she walked up the garden path, she observed that her mother’s vegetable garden seemed to be thriving, and said a silent prayer of thanks. She knew that her parents had struggled financially in spite of the wages that she and Simon sent home to them, so she was relieved to see that they had a plentiful source of food.

  Betsey did not knock on the front door. She had done so the first time she came home to visit after moving to Cublertone’s estate, and her mother had scolded her. “This will always be your home,” she had said. “You never need to knock on this door.” Betsey thought that she had loved her more in that moment than ever before.

  When she walked into the open room that served as kitchen and living area, she saw her mother kneading bread dough on a scrubbed wooden table.

  “Hello, Mama,” she said quietly, causing her mother to look up from her dough, momentarily confused.

  “Betsey!” her mother yelled, sounding delighted. “We did not expect you until later today!”

  “I woke up early and decided to set out right away, since the morning air was so lovely,” Betsey said, smiling at her mother’s excitement.

  “Oh, how wonderful,” her mother said, wiping her hands on her apron, and then turning to yell out the back window. “William! Our Betsey is home early, come inside!”

  Turning back to Betsey, she embraced her daughter in a warm hug. “Your father is just out back feeding the chickens, he will be very happy to see you. It always feels like so long between your visits.”

  “I’m sorry, Mama,” Betsey said, sincerely. “I do wish that I could come home more, but it’s simply not possible.”

  “Come now, there is no need to apologize, my lovely,” her mother said fondly. “I only meant that we miss you, but I do so appreciate you coming home as often as you do.”

  A few moments later, when her father had returned to the house, and her mother had set the bread dough aside to rise, they all sat down at the table to have a cup of tea. Betsey’s mother pulled out a basket of mending and began to darn her husband’s sock. Without thinking, Betsey reached into the basket and pulled out the matching sock, which she began to darn as well.

  “Well, aren’t I the luckiest man in England?” her father said, looking fondly at his wife and daughter.

  “You know, I believe that you are,” Betsey said, and smiled at him.

  “Luckier than that Earl of yours?” he said, incredulously.

  “Well…” Betsey paused for a moment, considering. “I suppose there are some benefits to being a member of the ton, but as far as I can tell, they do not generally make one happy.”

  “All that land and money—how could a person be unhappy?” her father asked.

  “It seems that no matter how much land or money the Earl has, he always wants more,” Betsey said wisely. “Perhaps it is just human nature.”

  “Take it from me, Betsey,” her mother chimed in. “Most men are never satisfied, no matter how much they have.”

  “Oh, really?” her father asked, his tone playful. “And what would you know of ‘most men’?”

  “Absolutely nothing, dear,” Betsey’s mother responded. Her voice was unusually solemn, but her eyes glinted with her signature humor. She maintained a serious expression for several seconds before all three of them began laughing intensely.

  After a few moments, when the laughter subsided, the subject of the conversation turned to Betsey. Her mother wanted to know when she would be getting married and providing her with grandchildren. Betsey had no answer to this and attempted to change the subject by asking about some of her childhood friends who still lived in the village.

  Unfortunately, this did not have the desired effect, since so many of them had gotten married or had babies since her last visit. Still Betsey enjoyed hearing about what was happening in her home town, especially with her mother’s witty commentary mixed in.

  Her mother was just as eager to hear the gossip about the aristocracy. Betsey sometimes thought t
hat her mother was as invested in Lady Paulina’s future prospects as she was. This was particularly surprising since she had never met Lady Paulina, but she knew that Betsey liked her, and that was all it took.

  Betsey had resolved not to think about Lady Paulina and the Viscount of Somerwich during her visit, but she could hardly refuse to answer questions about her mistress.

  “Lady Paulina is quite well,” she told her mother. “Her debut was a success.”

  “I am glad to hear it. Does she have any suitors?” her mother asked, getting to the matter of her true interest.

  Betsey knew that her parents would not gossip to others, and of course they had no occasion to speak to members of the aristocracy, so it was safe to tell them some things.

  “The Earl hopes to marry Lady Paulina to the son of a neighboring Earl. He also happens to be a political rival, so I believe he hopes to expand the family’s land holdings as well creating a new political alliance.”

  “Oh my, that certainly is complicated,” her mother said. “I do hope that he is a good gentleman, at least.”

  Betsey considered her words carefully. Her own feelings about the Viscount were based on nothing more than a vague intuition about his character, and they were of no consequence in any event.

  “Yes,” Betsey said. “It is complicated. I believe that the Viscount is a good gentleman, but I have no way of truly knowing that. Lady Paulina seems rather indifferent to him.”

  “I see,” her mother said, a knowing look in her eye. “Is this Viscount not attractive to look upon?”

  “He is quite handsome,” Betsey said, working hard to keep her voice as casual as possible.

  Her mother arched an eyebrow at her, and said, “I see. Well, then, is he mean? Or stupid?”

  “As far as I know, he is neither mean nor stupid,” Betsey said. Then she added, “But I do not know him, so I cannot say for certain.”

  “Perhaps he has been involved in a scandal,” her father added. “Some of these young gentlemen believe that the usual rules do not apply to them because they are wealthy and well-connected.”

  This was exactly what Simon had suggested, based on only the whispered implications of some unknown household servants. Now her father was implying the same thing based on absolutely no evidence at all. Am I naïve to think that this could not possibly be true?

  “If that is the case, I know nothing of it. I would be quite surprised to learn that the Viscount had been involved in a scandal of any kind,” Betsey said in a firm voice.

  “You would be surprised?” her father asked, sounding skeptical. “You have just told us that you do not know the gentleman. How can you possibly know whether he would do anything scandalous?”

  “I…” Betsey felt trapped. She had let her feelings get the better of her and had spoken without thinking about the impact of her words. Taking a deep breath, she began again.

  “I only meant to say that, as Lady Paulina’s personal maid, I am usually privy to any important gossip. If the son of a neighboring Earl, and a political rival of her father’s, were to be involved in a scandal of any kind, I am sure that Lady Paulina would have heard about it. And I am certain that she would have told me about it as well.”

  “Of course, my lovely,” her mother said, in a soothing tone that she had often used when Betsey was distraught over some childish disappointment.

  Not wishing to continue this line of questioning any further, Betsey returned her attention to the mending basket and pulled out a petticoat with a rip in the seam. Carefully she threaded her needle and began to stitch. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a look pass between them. Was it a look of concern? Of anger? Or perhaps just confusion? Betsey could not be sure, and decided that it would be useless to try to interpret that look.

  Betsey and her parents had sat in silence for some time, Betsey and her mother mending various items of clothing while her father quietly sipped a mug of ale. After a time, the conversation started up once again, but did not return to the subject of Lady Paulina’s marriage prospects.

  Over the course of the day, Betsey learned a number of things that her mother thought would be of interest. Her mother’s cousin had moved to London to work in a clothing factory; Mrs. Porter, the kindly old woman who had doted on the village children, had died; and the girl who had been sweet on Simon many years ago was now married to the constable, and expecting their third child in as many years.

  As the conversation went on, Betsey reflected on the simplicity of life in the village. She had not been lying when she said that wealth and land did not seem to make aristocrats any happier than common people. Perhaps staying in the village, marrying a nice man she had known all her life, and having many children would have made for a happy life.

  Still, Betsey could not imagine herself living such a life. As complicated as life at the Cublertone estate could be, she enjoyed the excitement of it all. A bit of intrigue and politics added a layer of excitement to even the most mundane tasks at the Cublertone estate, and Betsey felt that she would miss it if she were to return to a simpler life.

  On the other hand, her parents’ marriage was happier than the aristocratic marriages she had seen. Her parents had not married for financial or political gain, but rather for love. Betsey was not so naïve as to think that all such couples were happy nearly thirty years later, but she knew that her parents enjoyed their life together in a way that noble gentlemen and ladies rarely did.

  * * *

  Several hours later, after a pleasant visit, Betsey was preparing to return to Cublertone’s estate. She reached into the pocket of her gown and withdrew a small purse, from which she removed several coins. Handing the money to her mother, Betsey saw tears welling in her eyes.

  “Mama?” she asked, her voice soft, “Are you all right?”

  “What?” her mother asked, sounding confused.

  “I asked if everything is all right,” Betsey said, concerned. “You just seemed a bit upset.”

  “Oh…” her mother said, in a quiet voice that trailed away into silence.

  Betsey studied her mother’s face, searching for a sign as to what might be bothering her.

  “Mama, you know that you can tell me anything, don’t you? If there is anything that you need, I want to help in any way that I can.”

  “Oh Betsey, I am sorry to upset you. I did not mean to make you worry. I just appreciate you visiting. And…”

  “And…?” Betsey repeated, wondering what this could possibly be about.

  “And, it is a relief to have your wages, that is all.”

  “Oh,” Betsey said, somewhat confused. “Well, I am very happy to help, in any way that I can.”

  “Please don’t tell your father that I was so emotional about it,” her mother said in a whisper. “I should hate for him to worry about me. I’m just being foolish.”

  “No, Mama, I’m sure you are not being foolish,” Betsey reassured her mother. “If you need more money I may be able to send something home again sooner than usual.”

  “Oh no, my lovely, this is exactly what we need. Please, do not worry about us. Now, I suppose you must be on your way, mustn’t you?”

  “I suppose I must,” Betsey said, feeling somewhat uncertain. Should she take her mother at her word, or was something more happening now to upset her?

  As though she could read her daughter’s mind, Betsey’s mother smiled at her reassuringly and said, “Yes, you must be on your way. Now, go and say goodbye to your father, and promise that you will not waste your time worrying about us.”

  Betsey smiled at her mother, “All right, I promise,” she said, before kissing her mother on the cheek and bidding her goodbye.

  She walked out into the garden where her father was pulling some weeds from the vegetable patch.

  “Papa,” she said, “I must be off.”

  Her father stood up from the vegetable patch, placing his hands on his lower back and leaning back to stretch his muscles. He sighed deeply as he stretch
ed and then smiled at Betsey.

  “All right, my dear. Thank you for visiting, we always love to see you. Your mother looks forward to your visits all month long.”

  “I look forward to them as well, Papa. I only wish that I could come more often.”

  “That would be lovely, of course, but we understand that it is not possible. We must resolve to make the most of the time that we are able to spend together.”

  “Papa?” Betsey asked, a note of uncertainty creeping into her voice, despite her best efforts to hide her feelings. “Is everything all right with Mama?”

  “What do you mean?” her father asked, sounding confused.

  “Oh, I’m sure it is nothing,” she said, not wanting to worry her father if he was not already concerned. “I just worry about both of you, since I see you so infrequently.”