Vying for the Viscount

by Kristi Ann Hunter

A firm nudge between her shoulder blades sent her tripping two steps forward. “Of course she would.”

  Bianca turned to see her stepmother keeping to the shadows of the doorway but definitely making sure she was involved in whatever was happening in front of her home. How quickly had she thrown on those clothes in order to be downstairs already? Normally she wasn’t even awake yet.

  Bianca whirled back to Lord Brimsbane and smiled. “Of course I would.”

  “Don’t mess this up,” Mrs. Snowley whispered. “Connections to an earl would do a great deal of good for our family.”

  As annoying as that thought might be, it wasn’t a reason to turn down Lord Brimsbane’s invitation, especially as it aided two of Bianca’s growing problems—how to get in her ride this morning and how to find someone who piqued her interest as much as, or hopefully more than, Lord Stildon did.

  The original plan might have been for Lord Brimsbane to meet her and Lord Stildon at Hawksworth, but she wasn’t going to quibble over the change when it suited her so well.

  She stepped forward and rubbed her hand down the pale horse’s neck, appreciating the strength and warmth of the animal before tugging on her riding gloves. “I would be happy to accompany you, Lord Brimsbane.”

  “Excellent.”

  Moments later, everyone was mounted, and they were riding toward the Heath, the groom staying a steady three lengths behind like a well-trained maid.

  “What is her name?” Bianca shifted in the saddle to settle more firmly on the unfamiliar horse.

  “Daffodil. She’s Rebecca’s horse.”

  Bianca turned to look at Lord Brimsbane, unable to hide her surprise. “Oh.”

  “She insisted.”

  “Please express my appreciation to her.”

  He nodded. “I will.” As the rolling green lengths of the Heath came into view, already dotted with an abundance of horses, he guided them away from the area where she normally rode. “Do you mind if we take this side of the Heath?”

  “No, of course not.” Obviously Lord Brimsbane relished the idea of encountering Lord Stildon as much as she did. The two seemed to have gotten on well enough in their previous encounter, so the decision must have been because of her.

  The idea inspired pleasure, but there was also a brick of dread in the bottom of her stomach.

  They rode along, switching at times from a brisk walk to a trot, and then slowing back down again. Conversation consisted mostly of the horses they passed, which ones would do well in the races, which riders were having a good day.

  “Are any of your horses out here training this morning?”

  “Of course.” He looked around and then gave her a sheepish grin. “I’m afraid I’m not sure where, though.”

  “No matter,” she laughed. “Probably wouldn’t be very ladylike of me to speculate on the quality of your horses in front of you anyway.”

  He feigned being stabbed in the chest. “You wound me. Are you so loyal to Hawksworth that you doubt my father’s stable’s superior reputation?”

  Loyal to Hawksworth? Perhaps only in sentiment. Loyal to Aaron’s insistence on following different training methods than most of the other owners? Definitely.

  Speaking of such would be going too far in her knowledge of horses, though. She wanted to be a match for a good horseman, not try to be his better. Although she wouldn’t want to hold back too much, since she wouldn’t be able to hold her tongue for long.

  They rounded one of the low hills on the edge of the Heath, and a long, flat expanse spread before them.

  “Shall we run?”

  He laughed. “If you wish. Though I must tell you Daffodil is no match for Uzziah.”

  Of course she wasn’t. Bianca never got to ride the truly fast animals. “To that far hill?”

  He shook his head and laughed. “Would you like an advantage?”

  Did she? Normally she would turn one down on principle, but that meant she never won, so how good a principle was that? “That would be lovely, thank you.”

  He nodded, his grin wide. “I’ll count to ten, shall I?”

  She nodded.

  “One.”

  She nudged her horse and shifted her weight so that she didn’t slide off as the horse ran. Daffodil was a glorious animal. If Bianca were being honest, this was a finer horse than the ones she rode at Hawksworth. Of course, this was also the personal horse of an earl’s daughter.

  Wind whipped across her face, and she couldn’t help but laugh aloud at the wonder of being in a race without watching the backside of her opponent’s horse the entire time.

  Hoofbeats thundered up behind her, and she urged Daffodil to go faster, though the finish line was far enough away that she had no hope of reaching it before Lord Brimsbane’s thoroughbred caught up with her.

  Still, when his mount flew past hers, she could see the finish marker, and she passed by it only a few moments after he did.

  She slowed the horse, still laughing. “I almost had you.”

  He shrugged. “I counted to fifteen.”

  “That was an interesting race.”

  Bianca and Lord Brimsbane turned their horses toward the new voice.

  Lord Rigsby sat atop the most gorgeous bay thoroughbred Bianca had ever seen. He had a sleek coat that shone with dark red undertones, legs that faded evenly down to black right at the knees and hocks, and the clearest white star on his forehead. In appearance, at least, this animal could rival Hezekiah for beauty in proportion and power.

  “Do I know you?” Lord Brimsbane steered his horse in between Bianca’s and Lord Rigsby’s.

  She should appreciate the gesture—she did appreciate the sentiment behind it—but they were surrounded by hundreds of people. What did Lord Brimsbane think was going to happen if they conversed with a stranger?

  With a shake of her head, she steered her own mount from behind Lord Brimsbane. “Allow me to make the introductions. Lord Brimsbane, this is Lord Rigsby.”

  The men nodded at each other but continued to stare. Bianca looked from one to the other. What was she missing? If the two men weren’t on horseback, she’d think they were considering coming to blows.

  “Are you new in town?”

  “Visiting for a few weeks. I’ll be bringing my horses here in October, and I wanted to learn my way around the place.”

  Lord Brimsbane relaxed and Lord Rigsby smirked.

  Bianca grew more confused.

  Obviously there was some conversation going on that she didn’t understand. She tried to take in every single detail so she could relate the encounter to Lord Stildon later. Perhaps he could explain it to her.

  Just thinking of Lord Stildon sent a wave of goose bumps to ride across the skin of her arms and a swirl of intensity to hit her in the middle. Not once in her interactions with Lord Brimsbane had such a thing occurred, nor had she felt this way upon seeing Lord Rigsby.

  She sighed. The heart was certainly inconvenient.

  THE STABLE AT MEADOWLAND PARK WAS FULL. Every stall held a horse, and three more were tied to a post.

  Apparently Hudson hadn’t been the only one to have the idea of visiting Lady Rebecca this morning. In all honesty, he wouldn’t have had the idea if he hadn’t heard someone else talking about morning visits after church yesterday.

  He’d been slow to leave the church because he’d still been pondering the sermon. It had taken him a while to give it his full attention because he’d felt conspicuous sitting alone in an enclosed pew. The St. Mary’s he had attended in India was filled with rows of cane benches.

  At the St. Mary’s in Newmarket, he had a pew in a box that his grandfather had paid for several years in advance. The entire business felt strange, but eventually he’d managed to focus on what was being said.

  The passage had been out of Romans, so even his full focus didn’t keep it from being at least a little bit confusing. He had caught the phrase, “For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh,) dwelleth no good thing.” Then there’d been something
about not doing the good that one wants to do, but instead doing evil. It had raised a great deal of questions, but it hadn’t provided any answers.

  Then he’d heard two women talking about which men they thought might come to pay them a call the next morning.

  Luck? Coincidence? An answer from the Lord? Who knew. What he did know was that he refused to sit around considering the meaning of the pastor’s sermon when he could be doing something that might show him the right direction.

  So, with questions still racing through his head, he dismounted and handed Hades over to one of the stable boys. There was nothing for it but to wade into the fray.

  The butler took his card—thank goodness the tailor had mentioned how conveniently sized the coat pocket was for holding a card case, and Hudson therefore procured one along with the necessary cards—and showed him into a large drawing room.

  Ten other men milled about the room. Three of them stared out the room’s windows, ignoring all the others, as if that would make them disappear. Four sat on the chairs and sofas, occasionally chatting, and one appeared like he was considering taking a nap. One man paced the room, while two more played a game of piquet at a corner table.

  It looked more like a strange men’s club than a formal drawing room.

  No one greeted Hudson upon his entry, though a few of them looked over in acknowledgment of his presence. He now understood the position of the three men at the windows. Had there been an empty set of panes, Hudson would have taken up a position in front of them just to pretend this whole business wasn’t happening.

  A newspaper lay folded on a table, so he sat in a chair close by and opened it. If he had ten visits to wait through before getting his turn, he might as well settle in.

  The butler appeared in the doorway, and everyone came to attention. Three men on the sofas sat upright, the card players set down their hands, and the men at the window turned toward the room. Only the fellow who’d fallen to the lure of slumber didn’t move.

  “Mr. Wansford.”

  Eight men groaned and huffed as one of the men stood from his seat on the sofa and moved to the door. The butler escorted him out of the room. After a few moments, everyone returned to what they’d been doing before.

  Another gentleman came in, looked about the room, shook his head, and left. Hudson couldn’t blame him. It was a rather daunting prospect. Only the idea that Hudson held an advantage in Hestia gave him enough confidence to remain.

  He supposed his title shored up his suit some as well, but as he was lower ranking than the woman’s father, he rather thought being a viscount wouldn’t matter much.

  To Hudson’s surprise, he only had to wait through three more visits before his name was called. Obviously this was a merit selection, not a timing one.

  That meant he was a better choice than the sleeping man but not the card players. Considering the one who won this particular contest was the man on top, it didn’t bode well for Hudson’s chances.

  Twenty-One

  The butler escorted Hudson to a smaller parlor just across the front hall from the drawing room where the men were waiting.

  Lady Rebecca and a woman he assumed was her mother sat side by side on a settee, while Lord Gliddon occupied a large chair in the corner to the left of the settee, reading a newspaper.

  When Hudson entered, Lord Gliddon folded one side of the paper down and glared at him. Hudson met his stare for as long as he felt able, but eventually the need to blink forced him to break contact first.

  Lord Gliddon gave a slight nod and lifted his paper back upright.

  Hudson moved across the room to where Lady Rebecca sat, wearing that same small, serene smile she’d worn at the assembly. He glanced at Lord Gliddon’s looming presence once more before sitting in the chair across from Lady Rebecca.

  This couldn’t be normal, could it? If it was, it was a wonder anyone in the aristocracy got married. Hudson was losing an entire day at his own estate to make this one short visit. If a man had to do this three, four, or more times, he’d have nothing to support his wife with by the time he finished courting her.

  “Lord Stildon, have you met my mother?” Lady Rebecca looked at the woman beside her.

  “No, I have not had the pleasure.” He nodded and smiled as Lady Rebecca handled the introductions.

  After that, he didn’t know what to do. Was he meant to converse with Lady Rebecca as if her parents weren’t there? Should he give them extra consideration? Did they want him to tell them about himself or simply see if he could manage polite discourse?

  Why hadn’t the two women outside the church included that information in their conversation?

  “It is a pleasant day,” Lady Rebecca said. “Did you ride from Hawksworth or walk?”

  “Er, ride. I came over on my horse Hades.”

  “Is that the one you’ve decided on for your personal mount, then?” a gruff voice came from the corner.

  Hudson snapped his gaze back and forth from Lady Rebecca to Lord Gliddon. He couldn’t be rude and ignore the man, but it was more than a little awkward trying to angle in his seat in a way that would include everyone in the conversation. “Er, yes. His temperament suits me well.”

  “Fine stepper, that one. Told Stildon that myself. The old one, obviously.”

  Hudson swallowed. “Obviously.”

  “You’ve still got his dam in your stable, haven’t you? Hestia?”

  “Yes.” Hudson swallowed the burst of anticipation. Was Hestia the advantage that had gotten him brought in ahead of some of the others?

  A grunt was Lord Gliddon’s only response, so Hudson shifted his focus back to Lady Rebecca. “You said you’ve a horse?”

  She nodded. “Daffodil.”

  “I grew up with your father, you know.” Lord Gliddon turned his paper down once more and caught Hudson’s eye.

  “Actually, I didn’t know that, but it does make sense.” Hudson looked back at the ladies, who seemed to see nothing unusual in the happenings. Whether or not this was the way they normally did things, Hudson had come today to visit Lady Rebecca, not her father. Though he wanted to impress the man, she was the one he’d be marrying. “Lady Rebecca, did you spend most of your childhood in this area?”

  “We split our time between here and Yorkshire.” She tilted her head. “You grew up in India?”

  “Yes. My whole life until recently.”

  “Smartest thing your father ever did,” Lord Gliddon said as he turned the page in his paper. “Your uncle always struck me as an odd sort of fellow. Went to school, you know.”

  “I had always assumed he had, yes sir. Did you attend a school somewhere, Lady Rebecca?”

  She shook her head. “Governesses and tutors.”

  “He claimed he was going to become a lawyer,” Lord Gliddon continued as if no one had spoken. “He did study law, but only for a year or so. Rumor was he only ever wanted to know about the trying of aristocrats and the legalities of title inheritance.”

  That description certainly fit with what little Hudson knew of his uncle. Still, what was Hudson to say in response? He could hardly agree with the man, given that Hudson’s only interaction with his uncle was an angry, disgruntled letter that he hadn’t even answered yet.

  He looked over at Lady Rebecca, who sat still with her hands folded in her lap. He could only hope the smile he gave her looked more natural than it felt.

  “What are you . . .” His sentence faded away as he realized he hadn’t the faintest idea what to ask her. The unfinished sentence dangled in the air, taunting him.

  It was ridiculous, really. Hudson was a man of many talents and accomplishments. He could shoot, ride, and manage property—everything a gentleman was supposed to be able to do, or so he had thought. His entire life had been dictated in such a way as to make him a proficient Englishman.

  Yet here he was, without a single notion of what he was to do. Never had his father indicated how much of a viscount’s life was spent socializing.

&nb
sp; He cleared his throat and tried again. “That is to say”—Think, think, think! What would you ask Bianca if she were the one sitting there?—“are you looking forward to the cooler weather?”

  That was most definitely not what he would say to Bianca, but at least it was a full question.

  A few wrinkles appeared between Lady Rebecca’s eyes, but the tiny frown soon smoothed away. Lady Gliddon’s gaze narrowed on him and then looked over at her husband.

  “I’ve never cared much for the cold,” Lady Rebecca said.

  Finally! Something they had in common. “I’m not anticipating it greatly either. I find that even now the air is far more chilled than I experienced in India.”

  “Oh? Was it very warm there?”

  “Yes. Less rain as well.”

  “Oh.” She paused and then sat a little straighter. “There’s not many clouds in the sky today, so it probably won’t rain.”

  “No, probably not.”

  Silence descended again.

  Lord Gliddon’s paper rattled once more, and Hudson held his breath, hoping that he would interrupt the conversation again, if only to give them something to say in return.

  After a few tense moments, it was Lady Rebecca who came to his rescue. “Did you spend any time in London before coming to Newmarket?”

  Not any more than he’d had to. “Only long enough to meet with the solicitor and make arrangements to travel here.”

  “You should have been here earlier,” Lord Gliddon grumbled.

  While Hudson agreed, he didn’t much care for this stranger’s opinion. Prospective father-in-law or not, Hudson wasn’t about to discuss such personal details as how Hudson felt about his grandfather’s constant encouragement to stay in India. “The ship that brought me here was the same ship that carried the news of his passing. I could not have arrived any earlier.”

  “We didn’t even know you existed until Mr. Albany started shouting about collecting his horses in the pub one day. Said he’d come all the way from Ireland to collect his claim only to be told there was another heir. Thought he was going to bust the place up.”

  That this man knew more about Hudson’s family than he did was disconcerting enough that Hudson wished desperately for something to do with his hands. Reins, a paper, a teacup, even a glass that he could swirl a swallow of brandy around in.