A Viscount to Remember: Regency Romance (Brides of London)

by Joyce Alec

  “No, it does not,” she told him, her words eliciting a gasp from one of the young ladies, who now looked at her with wide eyes. “What is the name of this gentleman, Lord Raeburn?”

  Lord Raeburn blinked for a moment, his gaze darting to Lord Montague as though he sought Lord Montague’s opinion about whether or not he ought to share such an indelicate thing with Louisa.

  “I hardly think that such a thing is required, Miss Smallwood,” Lord Montague murmured, his tone a little condescending as though he had some right to tell her what she ought or ought not to ask.

  “And yet, I shall seek the answer, Lord Montague,” Louisa replied smartly, turning to him and looking into his surprised face with a sudden fierce sense of determination. She had to know the truth about what had been said of Lord Williamson, determined that she would not turn her back on him yet, even though everything within her told her that she was making a fool of herself by persisting. “I do not think it fair to pass judgment on another without being quite certain that everything that has been said is completely true.”

  “Of course it is true!” Lord Montague protested, waving a hand in Lord Raeburn’s direction. “Why would a gentleman lie?”

  Louisa hesitated, recalling how Lord Williamson had begged her not once, but on two separate occasions, to believe that he had not had anything to do with either Lady Burton or the bet. Something began to roll about her mind, making her begin to question what she knew of Lord Williamson. He had always seemed so eager, so desperate to be trusted, and yet, despite that, there was still more evidence of his supposed ungentlemanly behavior.

  Something did not make sense. Louisa’s lips twisted, her frown growing steadily heavier. Surely if a gentleman was desperate to have a young lady believe that he was not a cad, that he was not a rogue nor a gentleman with poor morals, then he would do all he could to ensure that she did not have cause to fear that her consideration of him was wrong. Lord Williamson had vehemently protested that he had not planned to meet Lady Burton in the park, and then, only a few days later, had been met with another difficulty in the form of the two gentlemen stopping him to talk about the bet that he had placed. And now, it seemed, he had been discovered in a bawdy house, which, of course, would ignite rumors about him all through London.

  Louisa shook her head, her head feeling heavy with the depth and weight of her thoughts. No, she had to discover all. She had to know which gentleman it was that had discovered Lord Williamson so. Then, she would speak to that gentleman in as bold a fashion as she dared, to ensure that he had not made a mistake somehow. Liquor was always aplenty, Louisa knew, which meant that there was the possibility that something was awry.

  “The gentleman might merely be mistaken, rather than lying outright, Lord Raeburn,” she said slowly, hearing the two young ladies begin to whisper furiously again. “The name of the fellow, if you please.”

  Lord Raeburn looked back at her steadily, his lip curling slowly. Louisa, uncertain as to why her determination had brought about such a reaction, held his gaze without pause, refusing to look away or be cowed by the dark expression in his eyes.

  “I hardly think—” Lord Montague began to protest, but Louisa held up one hand, silencing him with her gesture as she continued to regard Lord Raeburn.

  “You are not to be put off, it seems,” Lord Raeburn said with a long, heavy sigh that held a good deal of weight. He glanced about the rest of those involved in the conversation, as though to share his disappointment over Louisa’s behavior, but Louisa still did not move. She could hear her heart beat in her ears, could feel the tension running straight through her, and still, she waited. Lord Raeburn, clearly now fully aware that she was not about to turn aside as he had hoped, sighed yet again and spread his hands.

  “You are quite determined, are you not, Miss Smallwood?” he muttered, throwing yet another glance to Lord Montague. “Very well, I shall tell you.”

  “I do not consider that wise, Lord Raeburn,” Lord Montague interrupted. “Surely there is no good reason to—”

  “Lord Montague himself was the one to discover Lord Williamson,” Lord Raeburn continued, ignoring the gentleman entirely. “If you have questions, Miss Smallwood, then might I suggest that you direct them to Lord Montague instead of further inconveniencing me with them?”

  Louisa, a good deal surprised that it was Lord Montague who had joined Lord Williamson at the bawdy house, turned her astonished gaze upon the gentleman whom, she noted, had gone a rather dull shade of grey. His eyes were roving from one place to the next, refusing to meet her gaze.

  “Lord Montague?” she said softly, only for the music for the next dance to begin swirling about her.

  Lord Montague started violently. “Ah,” he said quickly, recovering himself. “I am promised to Miss Elgin, I think, am I not?” He bowed, a smile on his face that did not quite cover the fright in his eyes as he looked towards one of the young ladies on Louisa’s left. “Shall we take to the floor?”

  Wishing that she could prevent Lord Montague from leaving her side, her mind now buzzing with a thousand questions, Louisa could only watch in frustration as Lord Montague stepped away from her and led Miss Elgin away. She had a suspicion that Lord Montague would not return to her side for his dances, for there was obviously a good deal of reluctance on his part, not wishing her to ask him questions about why he himself had been at a bawdy house. Her heart twisted violently as her thoughts turned back to Lord Williamson, making her realize just how much she felt for the gentleman. She wanted to believe him, wanted to trust him so that she might allow her affections to break free completely, but for the moment, she could not do such a thing. There was still so much uncertainty, so much doubt and confusion that Louisa felt it cloud her mind, making her both frustrated and upset in equal measure.

  Where is Lord Williamson?

  Her eyes roved about the crowd as she turned away from Lord Raeburn and his companions without a single word. Their company had left a stale taste in her mouth and she did not want to linger any longer. There was much to be done, much to consider, and much to discover. The truth was hidden in the shadows, held back from the light by untruths, confusion, and the deep uncertainty that bound it all. Where was Lord Williamson? He had said that he would be present this evening, and yet, she could not see him. Would all of society mock him when he finally made an appearance? Would they turn from him, give him the cut direct? Or would gentlemen simply laugh and point, giving him a knowing look as though to say they approved of his choice of enjoyment?

  Her heart slammed hard into her chest as she looked all about her, suddenly catching sight of Miss Martin. Miss Martin, her companion, who was failing in her duty entirely, given that she was not so much as glancing in Louisa’s direction. Setting her shoulders, Louisa made her way towards her companion, knowing that it was best that she kept near to her companion for propriety’s sake.

  And then, Miss Martin moved away. Pausing, Louisa watched her with sharp eyes, keeping her gaze fixed upon Miss Martin’s dark brown head, so distinct amongst the crowd by way of her plain chignon and dull-colored gown. Her heart leapt in her throat as she saw none other than Lord Williamson emerge from the shadows. She watched in horror as he began to speak to Miss Martin, seeing how Miss Martin gesticulated wildly. What was it that was being said? Why had Miss Martin gone to him? Was it to inform him that he had to stay away from Louisa? Or was there something more?

  Louisa’s heart began to pound furiously, her gaze fixed on Miss Martin. Her companion had evidently finished saying what was required, for she shook her head and made to turn away, only for Lord Williamson to reach out and grasp her shoulder.

  A gasp escaped from Louisa’s mouth as she watched Miss Martin’s expression change. She turned but did not forcibly remove Lord Williamson’s hand from her shoulder. Instead, she simply looked up at the gentleman, who was now leaning down and speaking in what appeared to be a most urgent manner.

  Louisa closed her eyes momentarily, struggling
to draw breath. Forcing herself to do so in order to calm her frantic mind, she opened them again to see that Lord Williamson had released Miss Martin, who was now nodding slowly, her head a little lower than before. More than anything, Louisa longed to discover what was being said, wanted to be near them so as not to miss a single word, but yet knew that she could not do so without being seen.

  Miss Martin turned away and Louisa watched as Lord Williamson let his gaze rest on Miss Martin’s retreating form, something in his eyes that ripped at her heart. There was a tenderness there, she thought, feeling as though he had kicked at her stomach, hard. A tenderness for Miss Martin, instead of for her.

  For a moment, Louisa thought she might faint in a most spectacular fashion upon the floor, only for a gentleman to tap her on the shoulder, greet her, and ask if he might look at her dance card. Louisa, entirely numb, somehow managed to hand him her card and waited for him to sign his name. The gentleman said something else about looking forward to their dance before moving away, leaving Louisa to look back to where Lord Williamson had been.

  There was no sign of him. He was gone. He had not come in search of her, had not wanted to come and dance with her as he had promised. Instead, he had sought out Miss Martin and had given her more of his attention than he had ever given to Louisa.

  Her heart tore violently, making her gasp. The pain was real and tormenting, burning through her chest with such agony that she could not catch her breath. Lord Williamson was not the gentleman she thought him to be. Secrecy surrounded him. Perhaps she merely had been his plaything, someone he had used simply to flatter his own self-confidence whilst he had gone about doing whatever he pleased.

  “Miss Smallwood, where have you been?”

  The sharp voice of Miss Martin met her ears, making Louisa flinch.

  “I have been looking all over for you.”

  “Is that so?” Louisa turned to her companion, her voice low and lacking intonation, such was the dullness that began to creep into her soul. “You were not speaking to Lord Williamson? You did not leave my side when I asked to know the truth of what you had said of him and Miss McBride?” Knowing her tone was accusatory but finding that she did not care, Louisa pointed one long finger at Miss Martin. “You keep the truth from me for whatever purpose you have, Miss Martin, and I have determined to discover it. But,” she continued, her anger beginning to burn hot within her, chasing the dullness from her soul, “I do not think that our acquaintance shall continue.”

  The color left Miss Martin’s face all at once, her cheeks fading to paper white. “What do you mean?” she breathed, one hand against her heart.

  “You may have been successful with your other charges, but you have failed me entirely,” Louisa replied firmly. “You have tried to pull me from Lord Williamson by mistruths and lies, and now I see you going to him and speaking to him in a most intimate fashion!” Her voice was growing louder now but she could not prevent it from being so. “Is it because you care for him, that you do not want me to go near to him? Is that why you have been so determined to pull me from him?”

  “No, Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin protested weakly, her eyes rounding. “No, it is not that, it is—”

  “Tomorrow, I shall speak to my father and insist that your employment is brought to an end, and I doubt very much that you shall have an excellent reference,” Louisa finished, aware that this might very well mean the end of her own Season but feeling as though that might be, in its own way, a blessed relief. “For the moment, I am fatigued and wish to return home. Do accompany me, Miss Martin, if you can bear to drag yourself away from Lord Williamson.”

  She stalked past her companion, tears burning in her eyes, but her head held high. Knowing that she had spoken callously, Louisa let her pain burn itself all through her, accepting it for what it was and yet hating it at the same time. She did not know what Miss Martin had been speaking of to Lord Williamson and yet found that she no longer cared. There was too much confusion, too much doubt and pain when it came to that particular gentleman. No matter how much she felt, no matter how much affection there was for Lord Williamson within her heart, she did not have the strength to keep going, to keep seeking the truth. It was too hard. She was weary now, feeling as though the path to what could have been a wonderful happiness with Lord Williamson was now broken up before her feet.

  Her time here in London was drawing to a close. Lord Williamson could mean nothing to her now. She was nothing but a pawn in his convoluted game and Louisa could not bring herself to continue playing. It was, she decided, quite at an end now.

  12

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Daniel stared at Lord Townend, feeling a wave of revulsion crash into him.

  “That is what I have heard, yes,” Lord Townend repeated gravely. “How glad I am that you have decided to stick to the shadows for the time being, my friend, for I do not think that the ton would easily welcome you now.”

  Daniel closed his eyes and ran one hand over his face. They had been deliberately tardy, thinking it best to ensure that the ball was in full swing before seeking out Lord Mercer and questioning him as to who had written the bet in the White’s betting book. Unfortunately, it now appeared that Lord Mercer was swallowed up by his crowd of guests and was, most likely, already deeply in his cups. He was a gentleman inclined towards liquor, Daniel had been told, although that was not always a bad thing. Some gentlemen were much more liable to speak openly and honestly when a good deal of brandy was running through their veins.

  Now, however, Daniel feared that he would not be able to even speak to Lord Mercer, given what society now believed him to have done.

  “I do not understand,” he muttered, dropping his hand and leaning his head back against the wall of the ballroom as a bead of sweat ran down his spine. “What is it precisely that is being said?” He looked at Lord Townend, whose gaze drifted away almost at once, shuffling his feet in evident awkwardness. “Do not hide it from me, Townend,” Daniel pleaded, even though a deep sense of dread settled in his chest. “Be honest with me.”

  Lord Townend sighed heavily and finally fixed his gaze back upon Daniel. “There are a few things that are being said. They all center around you being at the bawdy house and playing far too many hands and betting a good deal too much—to the point that you lost some of your possessions.”

  Daniel’s stomach twisted. “Possessions?”

  Again, Lord Townend looked away. “Clothing included.”

  Awash with both horror and disgust, Daniel closed his eyes tightly and clenched his teeth. There was no truth to those words, of course, but no doubt the wagging tongues of the beau monde would latch onto the story regardless, adding to it in their own way however they wished. “And who has said such things about me? From whom did you hear it?”

  Lord Townend shook his head again, his eyes blazing with an anger that Daniel, as yet, did not quite feel. “I cannot say,” he replied honestly. “I have tried to discover the source but, as yet, I have made no progress whatsoever.” He shifted uneasily. “I cannot help but wonder if it is wise for you to remain here, Williamson. Not because I fear that you are guilty of such a thing, for I know you are not, given that you and I were in company last evening, but I fear that the ton may very well turn against you should your presence here become known.”

  Wishing he could protest his innocence in front of all the guests, which he knew would include Miss Smallwood, Daniel let out a long breath and closed his eyes tightly, screwing up his features.

  “I am aware that this is most unfair,” Lord Townend continued, evidently seeing Daniel’s distress, “but you must think of your own reputation and also of Miss Smallwood.”

  Daniel groaned. “She will have heard yet more of my poor behavior and will believe it,” he exclaimed, opening his eyes to see Lord Townend’s jaw working hard. “And this accusation now is something more than merely a poor decision or a lack of consideration. It is…” he trailed off, his head in his hands. “It is
downright obscene.”

  His heart began to quail within him. It was as though something had been ready to set him and Miss Smallwood asunder from the very first, as though some unknown force was trying to set them both apart even though they wanted to be near to each other. That was the worst of it, Daniel realized. The more he had enjoyed Miss Smallwood’s company, the more he had spent time with her, the more he had conversed with her, the more he had come to realize that his heart was willingly becoming engaged to hers. He wanted to be in her company and did not like being apart from her. It was foolish of him not to have sought her father’s permission to court her as yet, even though that was his intention. At least he had made that clear to Miss Smallwood, although what she would think of that statement now, he had very little idea.

  “Do not look so disturbed, old boy,” Lord Townend hissed, making Daniel lift his head from his hands. “You must not gain anyone’s attention, do you understand? To do so would make things all the more difficult. I shall do what I can to find out the truth about where such rumors have come from, of course, but I fear that you yourself can do nothing.”

  “I must speak to Mercer.”

  Lord Townend hesitated, his expression tight with both anger and a touch of worry. “I know you are eager to, but I cannot think that it is a wise idea. Not when you might very well be seen and called out by some gentleman or other—once you are known to be here, then all and sundry will seek you out, ready to find yet another sliver of gossip upon which they might chew.” He winced as Daniel closed his eyes, knowing that his friend was still determined not to hide away.

  “I must find out something,” Daniel declared, opening his eyes and setting his shoulders. “I must know if Lord Mercer can do anything to aid me in my quest to discover who is behind this.”