The Viscount's Wayward Son: A Regency Romance (Ladies of the North Book 2)

by Isabella Thorne

  Still, from the tenor of the conversation, it was obvious the two were spending time together. The thought filled him with anger. He was jealous. The realization hit him square between the eyes.

  Amberleigh was still talking.

  “I, too, once felt the same as you.” Amberleigh seemed to think he had aged wisdom while standing and talking to Edmund. “Secure in my bachelorhood. Proud of my lone status.” He gave a self-deprecating laugh which was just on the edge of being convincing, but failed. “I fear that I have fallen for the tender trap.”

  Edmund sadly doubted that Anne had in any way trapped this buffoon. Still, he was shocked at the implication. He could not believe his own ears.

  “You speak of marriage,” Edmund breathed. “To Anne?” He was most grateful that his voice did not waver, but the use of her given name, instantly told how close Edmund held her in regard.

  Amberleigh’s eyes narrowed at the familiarity. “Of course,” he said. “Is that not what we were just discussing? Time to carry on the line and all that.”

  “And about time, Amberleigh,” Roswell added, clapping him on the back.

  Edmund felt the room spin although he had barely sipped his brandy. The ground fell out from under his feet, and his heart beat in his throat. He thought he knew Anne, but not well enough, Edmund decided. Not if she could accept a proposal from this ponce.

  “So, she has agreed?” Edmund croaked.

  “Well, no. I have not yet asked,” Amberleigh admitted. “But I am sure of my reception.”

  Edmund suddenly breathed again. He swallowed his heart and it dropped heavily back into his chest. “You seem very sure of yourself,” Edmund said. He had faith in Anne’s good sense. She would not accept this arse.

  “Ingram,” Amberleigh said patronizingly. “The feminine mind is not so hard to decipher. They are simple creatures, needing only a slight push to bend to a man’s will. You will one day see.” He shook his head as if in pity. “I suppose it is inevitable when one matures, eh?”

  “The only thing inevitable is death,” Edmund snapped and then realized by the sudden rising of Roswell’s eyebrows, that his comment could be taken as a threat. Well, perhaps he meant it as one. Edmund didn’t like that Amberleigh called him immature, but he was more insulted for Anne’s sake. He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I am sure that you will see that Miss Albright is far from simple,” Edmund said.

  The duke offered his congratulations to Amberleigh as if the matter had already been decided.

  Edmund did not correct him. His father would be proud of his restraint. He did think that Anne would take exception to being discussed as if her capitulation to this cad was a foregone conclusion, but it was clear they had spent time together. The thought rankled.

  “Your uncle’s property is within the Duke of Bramblewood’s district?” Roswell asked.

  “It is,” Edmund said. “In Northwickshire.”

  “That reminds me, I meant to inquire,” Amberleigh asked. “What is the distance between London and Northwickshire?” Edmund gave him a hostile glare, but he could not cut the man entirely. “I ask because I need to communicate with my holdings there. I am given to understand you have a charming little dwelling in that area as well,” Amberleigh continued.

  Edmund met his eyes coldly. He could not call the man out for asking directions, but he was seething with anger.

  “My little holding is my father’s viscountcy,” Edmund said. Surely Roswell would take exception to his friend, Edmund’s father, being maligned. He threw the duke a glance, but the gentleman seemed not to notice Amberleigh’s bad ton, so Edmund continued, “It is truly not a long journey with a good horse and a fair ability to ride,” he said between clenched teeth. “Such would be impossible to ascertain without knowing the rider’s degree of horsemanship.”

  “Amberleigh is a competent horseman,” the duke put in.

  Edmund offered only a tight smile.

  “I am also competent in hunting…and shooting,” Amberleigh said, aware that his comment could also be seen as a threat.

  “Well, Ingram,” Roswell interjected. “I only wondered as to where your father and the Duke of Bramblewood might stand on the issues at hand,” he said, bringing the conversation back to the vote.

  “On the side of right, Your Grace,” Edmund answered smoothly. He gave the duke a small bow.

  “Of course, Ingram,” the duke said and turned away. He realized that was all the answer he would obtain.

  Amberleigh hesitated as if he did not want to leave, or perhaps he did not want to turn his back on Edmund. “It is good to know where one’s support is and…” he nodded to Edmund. “How long it might take to arrive when in need.”

  Edmund knew that Amberleigh was no longer talking about politics. This was personal. “If one needs the support,” Edmund retorted.

  “Come Amberleigh,” the duke said. “There are certain members of Whites you have yet to meet. If we are to be in business together, these men would be beneficial to know.” He turned briefly to Edmund. “If you will excuse us?”

  “Of course, Your Grace.”

  The duke shot Harry Westlake a speculative look, as Edmund’s friend entered the club. Westlake was an avowed Whig and friends with Lord Byron, for all that he was a member in good standing at Whites. Edmund was glad his friend had not tried to join them. It would have only made a sticky situation even worse to put a forthright liberal in the midst of such conservatives.

  Amberleigh gave a perfunctory nod and followed his patron deeper into the club.

  Harry stepped up and rolled his brandy in his glass. He looked at Edmund speculatively over the rim. “I see you made a new friend,” he said sarcastically. Harry’s usual amiable expression was gone. A dark visage now hung over his countenance.

  “Lud, no.” Edmund said taking a deep drink of his brandy.

  Harry sucked in air through his teeth and took what looked to be a steadying breath. “I think I have decided that I will not like him,” Harry replied, frowning thoughtfully as he spoke.

  “Do inform me when you are certain of that decision,” Edmund said, his eyes also following the progress of Amberleigh and the duke. “I shall join you in it.”

  Harry’s irrepressible smile returned, blooming across his face. “Yes. Imagine, all the hours we can pass in mutual dislike of the same man.”

  “I was thinking more that I may need you as my second.”

  Harry picked up his own glass of brandy. “He is Roswell’s protégé,” Harry warned. “Watch yourself, my friend.”

  “A challenge does not frighten me, Westlake.” Edmund replied as he drained his own glass.

  6

  Edmund’s time at Whites with Harry and Andrew was meant to settle him, but meeting Amberleigh did nothing to soften his mood, and he had drunk too much brandy. There were days when he could drink until morning with no ill effects, but tonight, the room was spinning. Perhaps it was due to the fact that his father had kept him so busy that he barely had a chance to sleep in the past few weeks. Nonetheless, he paid a late night visit to Alexander’s newly opened townhouse.

  Edmund walked into the house on his own two feet, though perhaps unsteadily, and found Alexander in his study. He spent a good ten minutes telling Alexander just what he thought of Amberleigh. Edmund found himself pacing, unable to settle in any one place for long. He ran his hands repeatedly though his hair and pulled at his cravat which did not seem to be seated properly on his neck.

  “Relax, Edmund. You are working yourself into a lather.”

  “I cannot. I cannot, like the man.”

  “You do not have to like him,” Alexander said.

  “Anne likes him,” Edmund said, despondently.

  “Ah,” Alexander said decisively. “Now I begin to understand.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Edmund demanded turning to glare at his friend.

  The duke cleared his throat, looking rather pointedly at Edmund’s feet. “I do believe
you are carving a path into my floor.”

  Edmund looked down. The great rug that covered the hardwood looked none the worse for wear despite Edmund’s frequent circuits about the room.

  “And your shoe is untied,” the duke added.

  “I don’t give a tinker’s damn about my shoes,” Edmund said kicking the things off and standing in his stocking feet.

  “Obviously,” Alexander said with a small smile. “I have never stood on ceremony. You know that Edmund. You can be as at home here as you would be in your own house.” He looked at Edmund’s stocking feet.

  “Yes,” Edmund said. “I thank you.” He did know that. He and Alexander had always been the best of friends and now with Emily’s marriage to him, they were brothers. Considering that, Edmund wondered why he was still wearing his jacket and cravat. With the fire going, it was deuced hot in the room. He peeled off his jacket and untied his cravat, which seemed to have knotted itself. He tugged at the offending item and finally pulled it loose. He tossed it aside, poured himself another glass of brandy from the decanter, threw his jacket over a chair, and rolled up his shirtsleeves. He sighed in relief feeling as thought he could breathe for the first time in days.

  “Edmund,” his friend began again, “you must slow down. You look half-crazed.”

  Edmund grimaced.

  “And we never see you,” Alexander added.

  Edmund knew he had been neglecting his sister since her marriage to Alexander, but at least his friend seemed more concerned than offended by his absence.

  “Father has kept me busy,” Edmund said.

  “Rot,” Alexander said. “Your father has never had such a hold on you. This is me. Truth now.”

  “Perhaps his constant chastisement has begun to rankle,” Edmund said.

  Alexander nodded his understanding. Alexander’s own father, the late duke, had been a beast. Alexander was by far the better man. Still, while he lived, Alexander had done his best to please his father, all to no avail. Edmund felt much the same, although the Viscount Kentleworth was not a bad man. His name was spotless amongst the ton, but he was just so blastedly demanding.

  “He berates me at every turn,” Edmund explained. “It seems I can do nothing right.”

  “Do not let him make you feel so,” Alexander replied. “I am sure it is not true. Your father can be exacting, but he was most helpful to me in finding my footing amongst the Lords of Parliament.”

  “Yes, and I would only wish he treated me as he does you, with respect as a peer, or barring that, at least as a man and an equal.” Edmund turned to look at his friend. “I am not incompetent in my abilities. I understand the problems our country is facing. I may not have the best head for letters, but I am not the dullard he makes me out to be. I can take the measure of a man and most often know if his words ring true.”

  “A trait I have often envied,” the duke commented breaking off his friend’s rant.

  Edmund sighed. “I fear in my father’s eyes I shall forever be a wayward child of ten rather than a man of twice as many years. By his estimation, I shall never be worthy to take up his position.”

  “Your father cares for you, Ed,” his friend consoled. “It matters to him what you do. He is in his own way preparing you for the role you must one day take on. It is more than my father ever did for me.”

  Edmund nodded. He had no right to complain. Alexander’s father had ignored his duties at Parliament as much as he had ignored his only son. He had also been a violent drunk. Edmund looked into his own glass of brandy feeling the spirits cloud his mind and somewhat shamed, set it aside.

  “Your father only wants what is best for you,” Alexander continued. “But he is no reason to avoid social engagements. His demands explain your mood, but not your absence. Now, what has kept you from our company?”

  “My mother,” Edmund admitted sheepishly. “She wants me to marry,” he said at last.

  “I have no complaints with the institution,” Alexander said with a slight smile.

  “That’s because you have married a beautiful, wonderful woman. But don’t let Em know I said that.” Edmund scolded, raising a finger before Alexander’s nose.

  Alexander nodded and gave his friend a smile. Although he had no siblings of his own, he knew that Emily and Edmund loved one another. Yet were not demonstrative of that love.

  “My father thinks I am not yet out of the cradle and my mother will not be satisfied until I am tied down.” Edmund stood suddenly and the room swam a bit. He shook his head to clear it. The movement did not help. “Between the two of them,” he said. “I have not a moment’s peace. I am lost at sea, my friend.”

  “I can see that.” Alexander considered him thoughtfully. “Of course, I will help in any way I can.”

  “Thanks, Alex. You are a good friend,” Edmund said putting a hand on Alexander’s shoulder as much to steady himself as to show friendship.

  Alexander smiled in amazement. “I do believe you are foxed,” he said his voice showing surprise.

  “I am perfectly lucid,” Edmund argued slurring the words only slightly. “I walked in here didn’t I? I’m walking now.” He began to pace again as if to prove his point.

  “I see that.”

  Edmund’s pacing reminded him of why he had first come to speak with Alexander. “This Amberleigh,” Edmund said blowing out his breath in exasperation. He glared at Alexander. “What do you know of him?”

  “I have met the man. I know he has a fair bit of financial acumen,” Alexander said. “He has amassed a small fortune in shipping and holds several properties, both here in England and in Scotland.”

  Edmund snorted. “Wealth doesn’t make the man any less of a pompous coxcomb. In fact, I think it enhances the characteristic.”

  Alexander gave Edmund a searching look.

  “Has Amberleigh done something to earn your displeasure or is it only that he is courting Anne?”

  Edmund scrambled to find a reply that would justify his immediate and intense dislike for the man. Edmund was certain Amberleigh was not to be trusted, but he could point to no solid reason for the feeling. He answered his friend’s question with one of his own.

  “So it is true that Amberleigh has called upon Anne?”

  Alexander confirmed that he had.

  Edmund felt anger rise up within him despite his attempt to suppress it. “How often?”

  “A few times.” Alexander gave his friend a knowing smile. “Although he cancelled their last outing without notice and last they spoke, Anne seemed vexed with him.”

  “Good,” Edmund pronounced feeling much better about the whole situation. Anne was no fool. She would see Amberleigh for the over-stuffed popinjay that he was.

  “Why the sudden interest?” Alexander questioned.

  Edmund sat down awkwardly on the edge of the nearest chair. He had stumbled into it and did not quite have the right angle to sit in the center. Using the arm rest, he slid back into the proper position.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Edmund denied.

  Alexander smiled indulgently at him. “Come now. Why care about Anne’s suitors unless you wish to become one yourself?”

  Edmund shook his head and the room swam dizzyingly. “Don’t be daft.”

  Despite his refusal the prospect was not unappealing, but there was so much left to be done. Perhaps once he secured his position among the Lords of Parliament and proved to his father that he was not entirely useless, he thought. As he was, Edmund was in no position to marry.

  “Anne deserves better,” Edmund whispered, uncertain whether he was speaking of Amberleigh or himself.

  As if summoned by his thoughts of her, the door opened and the ladies stood in the doorway. His sister, Emily came gliding through unannounced, radiantly happy, her smile growing as she spotted her brother seated by the fire, but when she turned, her eyes were only for her husband. She went straight to Alexander and laid a kiss on his cheek.

  In her wake, Anne paused in the doorway
. His Anne. Her hair had come loose from its chignon and several tendrils framed her face, curling in disarray. He thought she never looked more beautiful. Her color was high and her eyes sparkled with mirth, reflecting the candle light.

  She saw Edmund and faltered before pasting a smile on her face that didn’t quite ring true. Anne had never hidden her true feelings from him, before. He felt betrayed. In the next moment, he realized that Anne was no longer his childhood playmate, and he was not some green boy.

  Horrified to be caught in such a state of casual undress, lolling on the chair, like some drunkard, Edmund tried in vain to straighten his shirt sleeves. They defied him, refusing to unfold and cover his arms. Every bit of the pleasant buzz obtained by the alcohol was gone, shattered by Anne’s disapproval.

  He scrambled for his coat, pulling it on rapidly with his back to the feminine intruders. One sleeve bunched up to his armpit, and somewhere here was his cravat. He looked around for it, but short of dropping to his knees and looking under things, he was at a loss. Where had he dropped the deuced thing? He knew he could not tie it right now anyway. He would be all thumbs, but he could button his shirt. That task was doable. Almost. How could he have forgotten so easily the presence of the ladies within the house? Cheeks burning, he faced them once the jacket was properly seated and his shirt buttoned to the neck. Unbeknownst to him, it was buttoned crookedly. He bowed to the ladies, ignoring the duke’s grin.

  Anne snorted. Her blue eyes were alight with laughter.

  “Ladies,” he said giving a brief bow. The movement made his head spin.

  It was perhaps not the best of greetings, given that the single word came out somewhat strangled. His tongue felt thick in his mouth. Truly, the entire day had been one of various difficulties, made not the least bit easier by Anne’s eyes so intensely upon his when he looked up.

  “Oh, Edmund.” Anne giggled as she said his name, and for a moment he saw traces of his childhood friend. “You clod. I have seen you in much greater disarray.” She followed Emily to the couch and gave a small curtsy to Alexander, who merely laughed and rang for sherry for the ladies. “Please remember that I saw you when you fell in the stream,” Anne said.