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

by Julianne MacLean

  Damien and Harold stood motionless, staring at each other like two wolves, each waiting for the other to attack.

  “Let’s see who’s the strong one today!” Harold grunted as he lunged forward and slammed his shoulder into Damien’s gut.

  Damien staggered back. “I won’t fight you, Harold!”

  “You damn well better, or I’ll knock you off your feet! And it’s about bloody time I did!”

  They fell over onto the grass. Damien went down on his back, and Harold straddled him.

  He threw a punch, catching Damien in the jaw. Pain shot through his whole head. He tried to grab Harold’s arms, but Harold was thrashing—slapping uncontrollably at him.

  “I won’t fight you, Harold!” he said a second time, finally wrapping his hands around his cousin’s slender wrists to restrain him. He had to use all his strength. Harold was still trying to slap at him.

  Damien’s voice was low and grinding when he spoke. “I could flatten you in a second, cousin. I suggest you stop now, before I’m forced to defend myself.”

  Harold slowly, eventually gave up the fight. He bowed his head in defeat and rolled off Damien. They both lay on their backs in the grass, looking up at the sky.

  “Damn you,” Harold said. “I hope you rot in hell.”

  “You’re not the first person to say that.”

  Harold turned his head toward Damien. His voice was cold and unfeeling. “Every one of your mistresses, I presume.”

  “Every damn one.”

  Harold looked back up at the sky. “Well, if I can’t have Adele, I’m glad she’s gone. You would have made her miserable.”

  Damien shook his head. “How can you say that? Did you ever stop to think that I might have truly loved her? Surely you must have. You know me, Harold, better than anyone. You must have known I would not steal a woman from you, my closest friend, without a very good reason. I would not hurt you for a temporary flirtation. Or for money.”

  Harold was not moved by Damien’s pronouncement. “She told me you proposed.”

  “I did. I wanted to spend my life with her, and it killed me to think of her marrying you, but I weathered it because I couldn’t bear to hurt you. But eventually I was worn down. The love I felt for her chipped away at my strength and resolve, and I had to choose between her and you. I just couldn’t let her go. I loved her too much.”

  “Even though you would betray me in the process,” Harold replied.

  Damien sighed. “I hoped you would understand. And forgive me.”

  Damien sat up and gazed toward the pond. Harold sat up, too. For a long while, they sat in silence as the wind blew all around them, until Damien turned to his cousin.

  “I’m sorry for making you feel weak when we were children,” he said quietly, looking him in the eye. “That was never my intention. I admit I was overly protective of you, but only because I blamed myself for my parents’ deaths, and I felt happiest when I was helping you. I didn’t want you to end up like my father. I wanted to make sure you were always happy and comfortable. You were all I had.”

  Harold simply stared at Damien.

  “And I still cling to the hope,” Damien said, “that you will understand what happened between Adele and me, and forgive me, because she is gone now, and I am....” His voice trembled. “I am devastated.”

  Harold went pale. “You’re devastated?”

  “Yes. I loved her, so much, I was willing to throw away everything to be with her.”

  Harold’s eyes narrowed. “But...I thought you wanted her money.”

  “No. No! Did Adele say that?”

  “No,” Harold replied, “but considering the circumstances....”

  Damien leaned on one arm. “What circumstances, Harold? I must be stupid today, because I am missing things.”

  Harold shifted to sit on his heels. “I know about Frances.”

  “What, exactly, do you know? Is this what Adele’s was referring to in her letter?”

  Harold paused, then he whispered, even though there was no one within earshot to hear them. “I know about the baby.”

  Damien felt his forehead crease. “What baby?”

  “Your baby. I know you want to provide for the child.”

  The child? Damien’s head began to spin. “I beg your pardon? A baby with Frances? This is bloody news to me.”

  “You didn’t know?”

  Damien almost laughed. “You say it like I’m the last to know, but it’s not true, Harold. I know it’s not.”

  “How do you know?”

  “If you want me to be blunt, I know because the last time I made love to her, she started her courses that very night.”

  Harold’s mouth dropped open. The wind was blowing even harder now. “You’re sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure. I always kept careful track of these things. Who said otherwise?”

  After a few seconds, Harold faced the other direction. He seemed to be considering something. “Violet.”

  Damien rose irritably to his feet. “Violet said that?”

  “Yes,” Harold said, rising also. “But there’s something else you should know. I...I told Adele that you told me about Frances and the baby. I lied about that because Violet suggested it would be better if it wasn’t just drawing room gossip. I’m sorry, Damien. I believed there was a baby. Violet said it was true, and I was so angry with you.”

  Damien rested his hands on his hips and bowed his head.

  “And Damien,” Harold said, “I wasn’t the one who saw you in the woods today. It was Violet.” Harold dropped his head into his hands. “I guess I’m not such a decent fellow after all, am I? I’m a bit of a liar, in fact. And not only that, I’m about the worst fool in the world. I was manipulated by my spoiled brat of a sister.”

  Violet was still sobbing when Damien and Harold walked into the drawing room, on the war path. Eustacia looked up—shocked by the sudden, rather passionate intrusion. “What in heaven’s name is going on?” she asked, wrapping her arm protectively around Violet.

  Eyes red and puffy, cheeks stained with tears, Violet sat up. She wiped the back of her hand across her cheek and frowned at Damien. “You bastard.”

  “Violet! Your language!” Eustacia shouted.

  Violet did not take her eyes off Damien. Her lips pursed into a thin line. “Why couldn’t you just leave her alone? Why her? You could have any woman you wanted, and you had to go and spoil Harold’s chances for happiness!”

  Damien approached her. His eyes were dark and hooded, his voice quiet and dangerous. “You have some explaining to do, cousin.”

  She shuddered with a weepy intake of breath. “What are you talking about?”

  “You told Harold that Frances Fairbanks was having my child.”

  Eustacia gasped and put a hand over her mouth. “Good heavens!”

  Violet shifted nervously on the sofa. “I did not.”

  “Yes, you did,” Harold said.

  “No, I didn’t!”

  “Yes, you did!”

  “No, I—”

  Damien held up a hand. “You lied, Violet, and Adele has made decisions with inaccurate information. You will fix the problem.”

  “But I didn’t have anything to do with it!”

  Harold stepped up. “It is just like you, Violet, to blame someone else. Remember when you broke the blue vase in the gallery, and you said you didn’t know who did it? I saw you do it, you selfish brat, and I saw you deny it. That was last year! You were old enough to know better.” He turned to Eustacia, pointing his finger. “Mother, she did it. She was practicing tossing her shawl over her shoulder.”

  Harold turned to Damien. He gazed at him for a long, drawn-out minute. His voice grew calmer. His shoulders relaxed. “If she won’t tell Adele the truth, Damien, I will tell her.”

  “Harol
d....” Damien said, interrupting.

  “No, let me finish. I’m sorry. I should have been able to see that you and Adele were better suited to each other, and that you cared for her. I should have been more aware of what was going on around me.”

  “Harold, I’m so sorry.”

  “You don’t need to be. You’re a good man. I should have known you would never seduce Adele just for her money. I will tell Adele that I was wrong to doubt you. I will tell her that I am sorry for not loving her the way she deserved to be loved, and I will tell her that you love her, and that I know it’s true because you told me, and I believe you because you are the most decent fellow I know.”

  Damien gazed with disbelief at his cousin. “I would be obliged,” he said.

  Harold nodded. “She and her mother were heading to her sister’s house in London. Perhaps we should go now.”

  Damien and Harold left the drawing room. As they made their way down the main stairs, Harold posed the question: “Do you think Whitby will still propose to Violet if she doesn’t have money from Adele’s settlement?”

  Damien inclined his head. “I have no idea what’s in Whitby’s mind. I suppose it remains to be seen.” Then he went quickly to summon the coach.

  Chapter 27

  Wentworth House

  London

  That night, Sophia quietly pushed open the door of her husband’s study and peered inside. “Are you busy?”

  He leaned back in his chair and smiled at her. “Not at all. Come here.” James held out his arm.

  Sophia went to him and sat down on his lap. “I wanted to tell you that Adele and Mother have arrived.”

  “Is Adele all right?” James asked.

  “I don’t think so. She told me about what she said to Harold when she broke the news to him, and he didn’t take it well. But she is more upset over what happened with Damien. Oh, James, I believe she is deeply in love with him. She hasn’t told me everything, I don’t think, but she did tell me that he proposed.”

  “Did he now?”

  “You’re not surprised?”

  He shook his head. “I recognized a certain look in his eye when I spoke to him about Adele at a ball one night.”

  Sophia rested her head on his shoulder. “Well, she refused him, and she is determined not to change her mind. She just wants to go home.”

  “To America?” James’s dark brows drew together. “Why? It is my opinion that Alcester has been misunderstood by many people who think—”

  “Frances Fairbanks is with child,” Sophia told him. “It’s Damien’s, but he won’t marry her because she has no money. It appears that the relationship is not over.”

  James lifted Sophia off his lap and stood. “Where in the world did Adele hear that?”

  Sophia shrugged. “I don’t know. Harold, I think.”

  He shook his head. “If it’s true, I’ll eat my valet’s boot.”

  “What do you know, James?”

  “I know that the manager of the theater where she appears is a great supporter of hers, giving her all the best parts, and it’s a well-known fact that two gentlemen of substantial means have been providing for her rather extravagant means of living, and I assure you, they all collect their rewards. So, there is no way she could ever prove the child was Alcester’s, if there even is a child.”

  “Oh, James, that is positively sordid.”

  “Yes. Alcester was wise to break it off with her. Besides that, I’ve made it my business to learn everything there is to know about Damien Renshaw, and by all accounts, he is a decent fellow.”

  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “I assumed it would all work itself out, that Adele would see the light. But this lie that is circulating is unfair. Would you like me to look into it?”

  “Oh James, yes. Would you?”

  He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “If it will ease your mind, Sophia, I will go straight to the source. I will speak to Miss Fairbanks myself.”

  Chapter 28

  The next morning, the butler of Wentworth House entered the drawing room and announced Lord Osulton and Lord Alcester. Sophia, Beatrice, and Adele all stood up. Adele placed a hand on her stomach to try and mollify the sudden nervous butterflies.

  Sophia greeted her guests and invited them to sit down. “Would you like some tea, gentlemen?” she offered.

  “That would be very nice, thank you,” Harold replied while Damien never took his eyes off Adele.

  Sophia stood up and walked to the velvet bell pull, but Damien stood before she had a chance to put her hand on it. “Forgive me, madam, but may I request a moment alone with your sister?” He bowed deferentially toward Beatrice. “A moment with your daughter, Mrs. Wilson?”

  Beatrice rolled her shoulders. “I should think not.”

  Sophia winced. “Mother....”

  Damien would not be deterred. “I know you have not always approved of me, Mrs. Wilson, but let me assure you, my intentions toward your daughter are honorable. A moment is all I ask.”

  Beatrice gazed pleadingly at Harold. “Lord Osulton?”

  He stood also and bowed. “His intentions are honorable, Mrs. Wilson.”

  Beatrice stammered with bewilderment. More than a little surprised herself, Adele met Harold’s gaze. What had happened between them? What had changed Harold’s opinion of Damien? The last time she had spoken to him, he considered his cousin a scoundrel and a fortune hunter. Had he learned what James had told her?

  Sophia crossed the room and stopped before her mother, who was still sitting. “Come, Mother. We will wait outside the door.”

  Beatrice rose reluctantly. Harold went with them and closed the door behind them.

  Adele watched Damien move to stand in front of the mantel piece. “In your letter,” he said, “you asked me not to follow you, but I couldn’t let you go on believing something about me that is simply not true. I have not fathered another woman’s child. That was a lie.”

  Her heart pounded, as it often did when Damien was nearby. Slowly, she stood and made her way around the table in the center of the room, to cross toward him. “I know.”

  He inclined his head to the side. “You do?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  She sighed. “My brother-in-law the duke seems to have a high opinion of you. He has been making inquiries. I am pleased to say that he spoke to Frances himself last night. She knew nothing of a baby and was surprised such a thing was even suggested.”

  Damien exhaled.

  Adele stopped before him, close enough to put her hands on his chest if she wanted to. She did want to, but for the time being she resisted the urge.

  “What happened?” she asked. “Why did Harold lie to me about Frances? And why is he here this afternoon, vouching for your honor in front of my mother?”

  Damien turned his hat over in his hands. “He didn’t know he was lying to you. Violet made up the story about Frances and encouraged him to tell you that I had admitted to being the father of the child. Violet wanted you to marry Harold, so that she herself would have a large dowry to settle upon the man of her choice.”

  “Lord Whitby?” Adele asked.

  “Most likely.”

  “She admitted to that?”

  “Not really, but she’s always had a problem admitting to her misdemeanors. Harold is going to address that when he gets home.”

  Adele felt her eyebrows lift in surprise. “I am pleased to hear it.”

  “Adele....” Damien took a small step forward. His voice was strangely hushed. “I came here to tell you something else. Something you must hear from my own lips. Something I hope you will believe.” He stood before her, his dark eyes gleaming, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. “I know that you have many reservations about me, and after all that has happ
ened, for good reason. But I vow by all that is holy that when I become a husband, I will never be unfaithful to my wife.”

  She eyed him soberly. Despite her foray into her own wild passions, she had come this far, never completely letting go of her prudent nature. She would not simply tumble into Damien’s arms now after one small promise of fidelity. Nor would she base her decision on the opinion of her brother-in-law—that Damien was not what people thought he was. She was going to use her own mind and form her own opinion.

  In that light, she needed more from Damien. If she had learned anything from her experiences over the past month, it was to think of what she wanted in life, and to ask for it, to settle for nothing less. She knew she wanted Damien, but she would be absolutely certain of him first, before she gave him her whole heart.

  “People have been placing bets,” she said, “that you’ll go back to Frances, or someone like her, after you’ve married an heiress for her money. Did you know that?”

  He pressed his lips together with disdain. “People should mind their own business. I gave you my word that I am not after your money. I don’t care about it and I will prove it. We can make do without it, Adele.”

  She sighed. “Damien, you enjoy women. You have never been able to commit to just one.”

  “But have I not explained well enough why I formed temporary relationships with women like Frances?”

  She glanced at the door, hoping no one was about to barge back in, because she wanted desperately to hear what he was going to say.

  “Because contrary to what others think of me,” he said, “I take marriage very seriously. I admit that I have not been a monk. All my life, I have craved some form of intimacy with women—perhaps because of what I missed in my childhood, losing a mother—but I was careful to choose women who were open and honest about wanting relationships without commitment, because I never wanted to risk being forced to marry a woman I did not love. I did not wish to be miserable like my parents and destroy a family because of it—especially if there were children involved. I always intended to be in love with the woman I married and be confident in my decision to marry her. And it would help if she loved me in return.”