The Viscount Who Seduced Her (Steamy Historical Regency)

by Scarlett Osborne

  Walking out of the boarding house, Michael reflected on his visit with Anne and Mabel. He wished that he could see them more frequently—Mabel changed so much between his visits, and he would have liked to see her learning new things each day if he could. Of course, he could only see her when he was in London, and even then, going too frequently might arouse suspicion.

  The air was chillier now than it had been when he had arrived in Stepney. Michael pulled his woolen coat tightly around himself, and set off back towards the club. As he walked, he paid attention to the people around him, as was his custom. He saw women hanging out their washing, children running in the streets, and men leaving jobs in the factories.

  One of the men that Michael observed seemed to stare at him for a second longer than was entirely natural. However, when he turned back to look, the man was gone.

  Michael managed to convince himself that his mind was merely playing tricks on him. Surely no one here would recognize me, why on earth should they stare? Dismissing his fear, he continued his walk, and by the time that he arrived back at the club, he had forgotten about it entirely.

  * * *

  Michael arrived back at the club and handed his coat and hat to a footman as he entered. He had only a few moments in his room to change his clothes before descending to the dining room where he would meet his friends for dinner.

  The Earl of Wessex was already seated at a table when Michael entered the dining room.

  “Wessex!” he said, by way of greeting. “Tell me, old friend, how is married life treating you? Are you still madly in love a year later?”

  “Somerwich, it is good to see you,” Wessex replied. Then with a roguish grin he said, “As for married life, I must say that it is highly preferable to bachelorhood, in my experience.”

  “Well, it is good to know that some people enjoy their marriages,” Michael said.

  The pair was soon joined by the Viscount of Norwell, and the Marquess of Harrington. The four gentlemen had been friends at school, all good students, with a particular interest in philosophy. They had not been entirely model students, in spite of their good marks, and often reminisced about the tricks they had played during their time at Eton.

  In particular, they were often found laughing about the time that they had broken into the headmaster’s office one evening. They had not stolen or destroyed anything, but had carefully turned every single piece of furniture upside down. The headmaster had been stunned to walk into his office to find the legs of his desk and chair sticking up in the air.

  Michael smiled at this memory, which had cropped up at the mere sight of his friends. Once everyone was seated at the table, and greetings had been exchanged, Michael said, “Wessex was just telling me about married life, after the honeymoon.”

  Harrington was also married, to the daughter of the Duke of Somerset. His wife was pretty in a homely sort of way, and very wealthy, but Harrington had been ambivalent about the marriage, and it appeared that he still felt this way.

  Norwell, who was unmarried like Michael, seemed more interested in this topic. “Oh yes,” he said. “Do tell us all about it, Wes!”

  “Well, I have enjoyed married life very much for the past year and a half,” Wessex said with a smile. “And if I do say so myself, I believe that Clara has rather enjoyed it as well.”

  “No doubt she does, with a husband such as you!” Norwell said. “You must tell us your secrets for keeping your wife happy—I understand that many gentlemen find it to be a challenge.”

  “I can tell you that,” Harrington replied, sounding sarcastic. “It is no secret that the key to a happy wife is loose purse strings.”

  Everyone laughed at this, including Wessex, but Michael knew that his common-born wife had a significant income from her father’s business. She had not married Wessex for financial reasons—perhaps it was due to his social status, but Michael had the sense that she truly loved Wessex as much as he loved her.

  “I have some good news to share,” Wessex announced. “Clara is expecting a baby in the spring!”

  Pure delight shone on Wessex’s face as he shared this news. Michael thought of little Mabel, living in a cramped bedroom at a boarding house with a mother who had lost her position when she fell pregnant. Wessex’s child would want for nothing, and would be doted upon by its parents. And Wessex would have the opportunity to see his child every day, and watch him grow and change.

  “That is fantastic news, Wes,” Michael said, raising his glass to his friend. “Congratulations!”

  Chapter 12

  Lady Paulina stood on a small platform in front of a full length looking glass. Betsey was helping her into the gown she would wear for the masquerade ball, pinning it where slight adjustments needed to be made. In fact, this was the third costume that they had tried, Lady Paulina having rejected the previous two options.

  Betsey silently prayed that her mistress would find no fault with this costume. They were already getting very close to the date of the ball and Betsey would have to work very hard, indeed, to make sure that everything was ready in time. Another change of plans would put her in real danger of not finishing in time.

  “What do you think of it, My Lady?” she asked Lady Paulina’s reflection.

  “It is quite lovely, Betsey,” Lady Paulina answered. Her voice had remained rather flat since she first forced herself out of bed and started this process, but she sounded more enthusiastic about this costume than anything else they had discussed so far. Betsey decided to take this as a good sign.

  “I think that you look positively lovely in this one,” Betsey said, adjusting her mistress’s left sleeve. “I am quite sure that the gentlemen at the ball will be unable to keep their eyes off of you.”

  “Hmm…” Lady Paulina sighed as she examined her reflection in the mirror. “The dress is very lovely. I think that it shall work well. Thank you, Betsey.”

  “You are very welcome, My Lady,” Betsey said, placing the last pin on Lady Paulina’s sleeve.

  “Now, we must be careful not to disturb any of the pins when we take this off. We would not want you to get stuck with one.”

  Betsey carefully helped Lady Paulina out of the gown and placed it on the table next to them. She would bring the gown into her small bedroom, which adjoined Lady Paulina’s, and work on the stitching this evening. Now she helped her mistress back into the gown she had been wearing previously.

  Lady Paulina seemed in a somewhat better mood today, and Betsey felt optimistic about her mistress’s recovery. After they had finished with her dress fitting, Lady Paulina invited Betsey to sit with her and do some needlework. This had been a common occurrence before Lady Paulina’s period of melancholy.

  They sat near the window, with the curtains pulled open wide to allow in natural light. They had been drawn tight for several days while Lady Paulina had remained in her bed, and Betsey was relieved to look out of the window onto the beautiful grounds of Cublertone once again.

  Lady Paulina pulled out an embroidery hoop and resumed work on a landscape scene. She had been working on this piece for several weeks now, based on a sketch she had made of the flower garden visible from her bedroom window. Betsey took this opportunity to work on Lady Paulina’s costume, hemming the sleeve she had just pinned.

  “Betsey?” Lady Paulina asked, sounding somewhat hesitant.

  “Yes, My Lady?” Betsey looked up from her work to search her mistress’s face. She saw a look of concern there and silently hoped that Lady Paulina was not about to return to her former state of lethargy.

  “Do you really think that I will look beautiful at the masquerade ball?”

  “Oh!” Betsey said, feeling surprised, and if she was truly honest with herself, a bit frustrated that Lady Paulina would worry about such a trivial thing. “I am certain that you will look very beautiful, My Lady.”

  “Of course. You have made such a beautiful costume,” Lady Paulina continued in a dreamy tone. “And, do you think that if I look beautiful
enough, the Viscount of Somerwich might fall in love with me?”

  Betsey felt certain that if anything was holding the Viscount back from falling in love with Lady Paulina, it was not a lack of beauty. Her mistress was usually charming and poised, but she had always been awkward with the Viscount, and one could understand why he might think she did not like him.

  Perhaps the Viscount was not concerned with whether or not his future wife liked him, but if he was, he would surely find Lady Paulina’s manner with him off-putting. I can hardly tell her that, though.

  “My Lady,” Betsey said, choosing her words carefully so as not to offend her fragile mistress. “I am sure that the Viscount will have no reason to object to this match. Perhaps the more important question is, do you think that you might fall in love with him?”

  Betsey put her work down in her lap now, focusing all of her attention on her mistress. Lady Paulina’s face was as inscrutable as a mask while she considered this question. She did not speak right away, but when she did, her eyes met Betsey’s.

  “I am afraid I do not know whether I could ever fall in love with the Viscount of Somerwich,” she said, keeping her voice calm. “Perhaps if I had met him first I would have. Perhaps in time I will.”

  “Perhaps you will, My Lady. I believe that many couples do fall in love after being married, as long as they are open to the possibility.”

  “Yes. I believe that you are right, Betsey,” Lady Paulina replied. “I must be open to the possibility, and I resolve that I will be.”

  “That’s the spirit, My Lady!”

  “Still,” Lady Paulina said, in a conspiratorial whisper. “If I am to marry the Viscount, then the masquerade ball will likely be my last opportunity to dance with my true love. I shall have one final dance with him, and it must be perfect.”

  In truth, Betsey did not think much of this idea. If Lady Paulina was going to marry the Viscount of Somerwich, it would do her no good to continue thinking about another gentleman. However, she knew that she could not convince her mistress to give up this plan, so she spent the remainder of the afternoon listening to Lady Paulina talking about it.

  Lady Paulina had a poetic turn of phrase when talking about her beloved. Betsey had listened to her rhapsodize about him often, but until now this had never bothered her. Having never been in love before, Betsey found it fascinating to listen to Lady Paulina’s musings on the subject. However, now she felt frustrated on behalf of the Viscount of Somerwich.

  Any lady would be lucky to marry such a gentleman, how can she not see that? And how can she agree to marry him while still pining for another gentleman? Betsey knew that marriages of convenience were common among the aristocracy. She was not naïve, and understood that it followed by simple logic that many aristocrats must have romantic feelings for people other than their spouses.

  Betsey had never thought much about the romantic entanglements of the ton, assuming that the wealth and power they accumulated through marriage outweighed the love they eschewed. Yet, when she imagined the Viscount of Somerwich in such a loveless marriage, she could not help but feel sad for him.

  Although she did not know him well at all, she felt certain that once the Viscount took a wife, he would be devoted to her. The idea of that devotion being unrequited, while his wife dreamed of another gentleman, seemed terribly unfair to her.

  * * *

  Betsey had spent the remainder of the day going about her work as usual until it was time to help Lady Paulina prepare for bed. Through all of her work, she could not stop herself thinking about the Viscount of Somerwich, and Lady Paulina’s lack of feelings for him.

  She knew that there was nothing that she could do to change the situation. She could hardly blame Lady Paulina for the choice she was making. Lady Paulina had no more control over whether she loved the Viscount than Betsey had over the thoughts running through her mind. And Betsey could see that whether or not she loved him, Lady Paulina had little choice but to marry him.

  When, at last, Betsey laid down in her bed, she was exhausted from a long day of work, made even longer by her wandering mind. She did not immediately fall asleep, in spite of the fatigue she felt deep in her bones. Instead, she continued to think about Lady Paulina and the Viscount.

  Betsey tried, over and over again, to convince herself that the Viscount and Lady Paulina would come to love one another in time. She wanted to believe that they could both be happy in their marriage, and yet, this prospect did not make her feel any better, for reasons that she preferred not to consider.

  Though she tossed and turned for quite some time, Betsey eventually fell into a fitful sleep. The thoughts she had worked so hard to avoid in her waking hours could not be kept at bay in her dreams. Betsey’s subconscious mind flooded her with images of the Viscount—his handsome face, his strong, broad shoulders.

  Betsey dreamed of herself dressed in a gown even more beautiful than any of Lady Paulina’s, dancing with the Viscount. In the dream, her body was pressed close against his as they moved gracefully across the dance floor, looking deeply into one another’s eyes. Her heart raced and her skin tingled where his hands held her.

  As dreams so often do, Betsey’s changed from one scene to another with little warning. When she awoke the next morning, she had been dreaming of walking through a pleasure garden, arm in arm with the Viscount. They had been quite alone in the garden, a most inappropriate arrangement, but a strangely thrilling one.

  As they walked in companionable silence, Betsey had felt the firmness of the Viscount’s muscular arm in her own and felt quite safe and protected. After a time, they had stopped in front of a particularly beautiful flower bed.

  The Viscount slowly moved closer to Betsey, who leaned invitingly toward him as well. The smell of the flowers was intoxicating. Betsey felt every sense more acutely—she could hear her own heart beating, and could feel the cool breeze on every inch of her skin. She could see every detail of the Viscount’s soft lips as they moved toward her. They had been just a moment away from kissing, when Betsey was awakened by the cawing of the rooster.

  Betsey had been momentarily confused upon waking, and then remembering her dream, she sighed in frustration. If only she could have slept for a few minutes longer! She knew that her dream could never become a reality, but if she could not experience the real thing, she wished that she could have experienced it in a dream.

  Sighing, Betsey reluctantly rose from her bed and began to dress for the day. She pulled her gown on over her shift, lacing it at the waist, and tucked her long dark hair under her mob cap. All the while, she could think of nothing besides the dreams she had enjoyed the previous night. I must put the idea of the Viscount out of my mind, no good can come of this fantasy.

  The day went on as usual, with Betsey spending most of her time with Lady Paulina. She helped her dress for the day, read to her when she was bored, and sat with her by the window to work on their needlework.

  Try as she might, though, she was unable to stop thinking about the Viscount of Somerwich. Every time the handsome gentleman entered her mind, Betsey felt herself blush, for she could not stop thinking about the dream in which they had very nearly kissed.

  Betsey soon realized that this must be what Lady Paulina experienced, constantly thinking about her own beloved. She felt a momentary pang of sympathy for her mistress, but then remembered that she could not take to her bed for the next week simply because of an impossible love.

  Betsey knew that this was an unworthy thought—this was merely reality, and it was not Lady Paulina’s fault. Well-born young ladies were never taught to get out of bed and work—no matter how sad they were feeling—but Betsey, and others like her, had never had any other choice.

  Betsey resolved not to let her feelings for the Viscount get in the way of her work. She knew that she would never be able to stop herself from thinking of him entirely, but she also knew that it was more important that she keep her position at Cublertone.

  Chapter 13


  Michael enjoyed dinner with his old school friends, and laughed often while they ate, and then even more over cigars and brandy after the meal was concluded. He wished that he could have spoken to them more openly about his reservations regarding Lady Paulina, but he did not feel confident that they would understand his position. And besides, he was not eager to turn their jovial conversation to serious matters.

  The Earl of Wessex was also staying at the club that night. He shared with the group that his wife’s mother had come to visit, and after a few days of her company he had felt the need to vacate the premises.

  “Clara quite understands, and would come with me if she could!” he assured them. “Her mother means well, and the object of her visit is to help Clara prepare for the baby, but she can be a bit…overbearing.”