In Love with the Viscount (American Heiress Trilogy Book 3)

by Julianne MacLean

  “I do like cupcakes.”

  “I’m quite aware of that, young man.” She leaned back again, gazing into Damien’s eyes with scrutiny. “From what I understand, this particular cupcake has exceptionally rich frosting. The duke had become a very wealthy man since he married the American. Surely, you must be considering such a practical quality in a young woman. Times have been difficult lately, have they not?”

  Damien stood and walked to the window. “Yes.”

  “It would be a very advantageous match.”

  Damien sighed. “I doubt that the duke would be pleased to marry his sister off to an impoverished viscount. She could aim much higher, I’m sure.”

  His grandmother grinned at him. “If Lady Lily has hot blood in her veins, she would probably make her brother’s life miserable if she didn’t get what she wanted. You have a powerful effect on women, Damien, and don’t pretend you don’t know it. You could have any woman you wanted if you set your mind to it.”

  Hands clasped behind his back, he continued to gaze out the window. “Not any woman, Grandmama.”

  She was quiet for a moment, then her eyes turned serious. “Promise me you will try this Season, Damien. I know you too well. These eyes may be old, but they can still see when you are troubled. I know the desperate state of your finances, and I’ve known it for quite some time.”

  With a sigh of resignation, he turned away from the window and faced her. “Yes.” Though there was so much more to it than just that.

  “I also know how you feel about marrying for money or position, and that cynicism has held you back.”

  He merely nodded.

  “Please, promise me,” she said. “You mustn’t continue to let your parents’ deaths stop you from living. You deserve happiness. You were just a boy when they died. It was not your fault.”

  Damien approached his grandmother, who looked so much older than she had the last time he’d seen her, only weeks ago. He bent forward and kissed her hand. “I promise, I will try.” He meant it sincerely, because he loved his grandmother very much, and he knew she was right. “Now I must go and dress for dinner. I will see you later.”

  He walked out and returned to his rooms.

  The green Huntington Room, where Adele was staying, overlooked the east garden and the celebrated Chauncey Maze.

  It was a fascinating view, for the green hedges of the maze were unlike any other hedges she had ever seen depicted in photographs or paintings. All the mazes she had seen and explored were square or round but always symmetrical, while this one sported an indiscriminate, paisley design. It would be a challenge to the most enterprising of minds.

  The loud dinner gong rang, and a moment later, Adele met her mother and Clara in the wide corridor to make their way to the drawing room.

  “I liked Harold very much,” Clara said, looping her arm through Adele’s. “He’s very genuine. Not at all pompous, like some people can be.”

  Adele pulled her sister close as they walked. “Oh, Clara, you have no idea how relieved I am to hear it. I was dreading the possibility that you might not approve of him. I didn’t want to have to argue with you.”

  “Not approve?” their mother said haughtily. “Surely not!”

  Clara smiled. “You won’t have to argue with me, Adele. I admit that I pictured an older man for some reason. I’m pleased that he’s young, and he seems lively. I believe the two of you will be very well suited. And I am thrilled that you will be close by. We will be separated by a short train ride, rather than the unbearable expanse of the Atlantic.”

  Beatrice quickened her steps to keep up with her daughters. “Oh, must you rub salt in the wound, Clara? The Atlantic will now separate me from my youngest daughter. The dearest, most sensible of my brood. How will I ever manage?”

  Clara grinned playfully at her mother. “You will manage just fine, Mother, when Mrs. Astor sends you invitations and waits with bated breath while you take your time to reply.”

  They found their way to the formal drawing room and quietly entered. Eustacia was quick to greet them at the door. “Welcome!”

  Adele looked around at the dark red velvet wall coverings that repeated the paisley design from the Chauncey Maze, the matching velvet chairs and settees, the spectacular gold ceiling carved with intricate swirls and leafy patterns. With her educated eye, she recognized the French style of Louis XV.

  She didn’t see Damien anywhere.

  “Please come and meet our other guests,” Eustacia said, then she added with a whisper, “And Harold’s grandmother is here—the Dowager Lady Alcester.”

  Adele glanced across the room at an elderly woman in a pushchair. Her snowy white hair was pinned up in a loose, elegant bun, and her black, high-necked gown complemented her coloring. She was slim, with high cheekbones, and she wore dainty drop earrings. Adele suspected she had been a great beauty in her youth.

  Eustacia escorted them to her. “Mother, we have some new guests.”

  The older woman raised a long-handled pair of gold spectacles to her eyes with slender hands that trembled. “The Americans,” she said cheerfully. Her head trembled as well. Eustacia was about to begin the introductions, when the dowager interrupted. “Do you young ladies know what a stir you and your fellow countrywomen have been causing in England?” She turned slowly to look up at Eustacia. “Times are changing, are they not?”

  Adele and Clara exchanged smiles.

  The dowager nudged Eustacia. “Well, get on with it. I want to know which one of these Yankees is to marry my grandson.”

  Eustacia made the introduction. When it was Adele’s turn, the dowager raised her spectacles again to get a better look. She smiled and leaned back. “Now I understand what all the buzzing was about. You, my dear, are a cupcake!”

  Adele laughed. “A cupcake?”

  “Yes. Tell me....” She leaned forward, as if to ask for a secret. “Do you plan to raise your flag outside?”

  Adele laughed. “No, Lady Osulton.”

  “Call me Catherine. And what about the country dancing you people do? Are you going to make us learn that? I understand someone shouts out the steps.”

  Eustacia bent forward to speak loudly in her mother’s ear. “Adele is not like most Americans, Mother! She won’t be shouting! She’s very polite, you’ll soon see! One would almost take her for an Englishwoman!”

  Adele tried to take the remark as a compliment. She wanted to fit in, after all.

  Catherine raised her shoulders to her ears and peered up at her daughter. “The only one shouting at the moment is you, Eustacia. I’m not deaf.”

  She winked at Adele, who decided she was going to like Harold’s grandmother very well.

  Eustacia led them across the room toward a handsome, golden-haired gentleman in the opposite corner, who was speaking with Violet.

  “Lord Whitby, may I present Lady Rawdon, Beatrice Wilson of New York, and Adele Wilson, my future daughter-in-law.”

  “Ah, yes,” he replied, turning and bowing toward them. “But we have met before, Mrs. Wilson, during the Season a few years ago, and of course at the wedding of your eldest daughter, Sophia.”

  Adele’s mother beamed. “Yes, of course! Lord Whitby! I remember your charming toast at their wedding! And the beautiful red roses you sent to Sophia not long after her London debut.”

  Adele winced, for she remembered those roses. Sophia had described them in one of her letters. Whitby had clearly been making his romantic feelings for Sophia known, but he had lost out to his friend James, the duke, who had later become Sophia’s husband.

  Leave it to her mother to mention that.

  Whitby smiled rakishly, unruffled by the reminder. “Your memory is most impressive, Mrs. Wilson. I believe at your daughter’s wedding, I referred to our newest duchess as a rose, for which England was to benefit from the careful American transplanta
tion.”

  Adele’s mother blushed. “Oh, Lord Whitby. You are too kind. Too kind.”

  They discussed light matters for a few minutes, then Eustacia guided them toward the other corner of the room just as Harold walked in. He was not alone.

  “And here with Harold,” Eustacia said, “we have my nephew, Damien Renshaw, Viscount Alcester.”

  Adele—caught off guard by the shock of seeing Damien again—sucked in a breath. He looked so different. He wore a formal black dinner jacket with a white waistcoat and white bow tie, and his raven hair was slicked back in the most flattering fashion, complementing the strong, masculine lines of his cleanly shaven jaw.

  He looked like the perfect London gentleman, devastatingly handsome as he bowed politely with his hands clasped behind his back. “Lady Rawdon, it is a pleasure,” he said, bowing first to Clara. He greeted Adele’s mother, then turned his attention to Adele. “Allow me to offer my best wishes on your engagement, Miss Wilson.”

  Adele was momentarily speechless, for it felt hypocritical to behave in this manner. She had woken up beside him in her bed that very morning, yet there they were, both of them, acting as if they had never met.

  The most outrageous part of it all was that half the people in the room knew the truth. They were aware of her kidnapping and Damien’s heroic rescue and escort across England. They knew that Damien had bandaged her thigh. They knew he had brought her to the inn where she had been reunited with her mother and sister.

  What they did not know was that he had held her intimately in his arms and kissed her deeply in the night, and that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, not even now when he stood beside her fiancé.

  Adele tried to keep the color from her cheeks as she offered her hand to Damien and went through the motions of meeting him while her body came alive at his touch. Her heart beat fast with excitement and pleasure.

  “I’m honored, Lord Alcester,” she said, as indifferently as she could manage, realizing, however, that what she felt for Damien Renshaw was anything but indifference. Now—back in the real world and in the presence of all these other people—she felt a potent, inescapable attraction.

  Chapter 10

  After a formal dinner, during which Adele gratefully sat at the opposite end of the table from Damien, the ladies retired to the drawing room for coffee while the gentlemen remained at the table to enjoy their claret and cigars.

  “Come and sit with me, Adele,” Violet said, patting the sofa cushion beside her. “It’s time we became better acquainted. We’re going to be sisters, after all.”

  Adele rose from the chair on the other side of the room to join her future sister-in-law, who looked ravishing in a low-necked gown of magenta silk, trimmed with black lace. Her dark hair was pulled up in a most flattering bun with loose tendrils curling around her temples.

  “Harold is so happy you’re here at last,” Violet said, leaning to pick up her coffee cup. “He absolutely adores you. I’ve never known him to be so deeply in love.”

  “Thank you, Violet.”

  “You must be pleased to be reunited with him as well.”

  “Oh yes.”

  Violet lowered her voice to a whisper and touched Adele’s hand. “I can’t imagine what you must have suffered the past few days. I said a prayer for you every night, and we were all so relieved to hear that Damien had found you. You must tell me everything. Was it as horrible as I imagined?”

  Adele swallowed uneasily. “How horrible did you imagine it?”

  “Well, to be kidnapped and held prisoner is one thing, but then to have to travel alone across England with a man like Damien. You must have been terrified.”

  Adele leaned forward to set her cup down on the table. “I wasn’t terrified of Lord Alcester. Or...was that what you meant?”

  She could have kicked herself.

  Violet gazed intently at her for a moment, then waved a hand through the air. “Oh, of course you wouldn’t be terrified of Damien. He’s family. Though with his reputation, a lady can never be too careful.” She sipped her coffee. “Oh dear. I apologize. I’ve shocked you.”

  “I’m not shocked,” Adele replied, working hard to keep her composure. “My sister had mentioned that Damien was slightly—” she stopped. “Oh, I don’t remember what she said. It’s not important. All that matters is that I’m here now and I am safe, and Harold and I are to be married.”

  Violet squeezed her hand. “Yes, and I hope that you’ll let me help with the plans. I can show you all the best shops where you can choose your flowers and everything else. It’s going to be such fun.” Her voice took on a playful tone. “I only hope we can keep Mother from insisting upon using the family seamstress. She’ll want to make you look like a big glob of clotted cream with bows. But don’t worry. I won’t let her do it. I want everything to be perfect for you and Harold. He’s my only brother, after all, and my favorite person in all the world. You couldn’t ask for a better husband, Adele. He is the most decent man you will ever know. Don’t ever forget that.”

  Adele picked up her coffee cup and knew that he was indeed the most decent man she would ever know, and she was very lucky. She also knew that she had to be sensible in the coming days, keep her desires in check, and be very careful about her behavior around Damien.

  It never happened, she told herself. She must forget it. She must forget all of it.

  “No, I don’t know the Earl of Whitby very well,” Clara said to Eustacia, who was glancing across the room at her daughter, Violet. “I met him at my sister’s wedding, but I’ve not had the pleasure of his acquaintance since then. I was married just last Season, you see, and from what I understand, the earl has been in California until recently.”

  Eustacia handed Clara a cup of steaming coffee with cream. “Yes, that trip to California is what I am wondering about. I assume he was looking for an American wife.” She met Clara’s gaze. “Not that there’s anything wrong with that, of course. You girls are charming and lovely. I only mention it because I think Violet might have caught his eye. She does look stunning in that gown, don’t you think?” Eustacia gazed proudly at her daughter.

  “Yes, she does. She’ll do very well this Season, Eustacia. I wouldn’t be surprised if she receives more than a few proposals.”

  Eustacia sipped her coffee. “One will do just fine,” she replied with a anxious smile. “As long as it’s the one she wants.”

  Later, the gentlemen joined them for an evening of music and entertainment—all except for Damien, who sent his apologies, explaining that he had a business matter to attend to.

  Adele was relieved. She hadn’t been sure she could keep up the pretense of never having met Damien before. Nor had she been looking forward to spending an evening beating down her feelings of attraction. That was going to take a very big stick.

  Violet played the piano and sang a charming rendition of “Home Sweet Home.” Shortly thereafter, a game of charades began, and much giggling ensued. Afterward, Adele found herself alone with her fiancé at last, in a quiet corner of the drawing room.

  “Harold, I am so sorry to have caused so much anxiety for your family these past few days,” she said. “I cannot bear the thought that I was such a bother.”

  “Nonsense,” he said with a smile, in his usual friendly manner. “You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Tomorrow I will take you on a tour of the house and gardens, and you’ll feel like you’ve lived here your entire life.”

  She felt her shoulders relax slightly. “That would be very nice. Thank you.”

  “And I believe,” he said, “that my mother is bursting with ideas about our nuptials. I hope you’ll humor her by listening. She mentioned lilies in the church, and she was most curious to know what you Americans like to eat. I daresay, she’s eager to please. She sees it as her duty to bridge the gap between our two cultures and smooth out your conversion.
”

  Adele swallowed. “It’s not as if I were changing religions, Harold.”

  He laughed awkwardly. “No, of course not. I only meant to say that some things will be very new for you. I hope you will feel free to turn to Mother with any questions you may have. It is imperative that you learn all about our English ways.”

  “I certainly will, but I hope I will be able to turn to you, as well, Harold, for we are to be husband and wife.”

  He blushed, then laughed out loud. “Quite so! I will be happy to answer any of your questions, Miss Wilson.” His blush brightened. “Goodness me. Adele! I keep forgetting.”

  She smiled, finding his nervousness endearing. How comfortable she felt when she was in his amenable company. There were no nervous butterflies. He was everything she remembered him to be.

  After the party ended, Adele and Clara walked together to their rooms, which were conveniently located across from each other in the Huntington Wing.

  “Will you come in for a little while?” Adele asked, hoping Clara wasn’t too tired.

  “Of course. We haven’t had a chance to talk yet, have we? Not without Mother listening in. And Seger will be arriving tomorrow, so I will no doubt be pleasantly occupied most of the day.”

  They both smiled, for Adele knew all too well the fire that burned between her sister and her husband.

  Adele led the way into her bedchamber and Clara sat down on the bed. Adele removed her pearl necklace and laid it down on her night table. “May I ask you something?”

  “Of course,” Clara replied.

  After a pause, Adele said, “Why have you always tried to talk me into having adventures, when I’ve constantly told you that I don’t want them?”

  Clara smiled gently and thought about her answer. “I suppose I always wished that you would let go of your inhibitions every once in a while. I worried that you might be repressing your passions, and that you might eventually explode. Because I certainly would, if I were as perfect as you all the time.”