The Viscount's Vow

by Collette Cameron

  Her gaze flew over his form, seeking any sign of injury.

  He faced her and shook his head, a lock of russet hair falling over his forehead with the motion. “No, Lucinda. We were set upon by highwaymen yestereve, and Malcolm suffered a gunshot wound.”

  A peculiar expression crossed her thin face. For the first time, she glanced in Vangie’s direction. The dowager stiffened, and her eyes narrowed with unconcealed antagonism.

  “What is she doing here?”

  The contempt in her voice took Vangie aback. For once, she was certain she’d have no problem remembering a name.

  Lucinda. Lucifer.

  The footmen entered, each encumbered with armfuls of luggage, further adding to the commotion in the entryway.

  Ian reached for Vangie’s elbow, then drew her to his side.

  “Lucinda, it’s my immense pleasure to introduce my wife to you.”

  The dowager sucked in a sharp breath, her hand flying to cover her heart. “Your what?”

  She impaled Vangie with a hostile glare. “Surely you’re not serious,” she exclaimed, enunciating each word with haughty anger.

  This wasn’t going well. Did his stepmother have hopes Ian would marry someone else? The thought didn’t settle well with Vangie. A sickening knot twisted in her belly. She hadn’t considered the possibility. Were Ian’s affections engaged elsewhere?

  A sly look crept across the dowager’s plain features. “Ah, is this part of the . . . plan?”

  She laughed then, a markedly humorless snicker.

  Plan? Vangie searched Ian’s face. He didn’t reply but glared at his stepmother, his face a mask of cold fury. Was there a challenge in his eyes?

  Vangie eyed her ladyship.

  A conglomeration of emotions skittered across the dowager’s face, before settling into a pinched scowl. “There’s no time for this now. We can discuss your travesty of a . . . a marriage later.”

  Vangie swung her gaze between Ian and his stepmother, sensing an undercurrent that didn’t bode well. It was obvious she emphatically objected to the marriage. Embarrassed, Vangie cast a quick glance at Jasper.

  He nodded, one sharp movement, then winked.

  Her lips twitched despite the tense atmosphere. Yes, she most certainly did like Jasper.

  Ignoring Vangie, the dowager faced Ian. “I must speak with you. Alone.”

  She cut a rude glower toward Vangie. Thrusting the scrunched paper beneath his nose, she cried, “Charlotte’s run off to Gretna Green with that penniless squire, Trevor Monroe!”

  “Monroe?” Ian scrunched his brow. “But I thought she was in love with Lord Pickering?”

  “As did I.” Lucinda shoved the paper at him. “Until I found this.”

  He took the note and quickly scanned it.

  “Jasper, please escort her ladyship,” Ian’s gaze flicked to his stepmother, “to the drawing room, then send for the leech. Lucinda, wait for me in the study.”

  She speared Vangie with another animosity-laden glare. “But, Ian. . .”

  “In the study, Lucinda. I’ll be with you shortly.”

  Huffing her outrage, she scowled at him. Spinning on her heels, her spine ramrod straight, she marched from the foyer. The crape of her stiff skirts crackled with each resolute stride.

  Wrapping her arms around her torso, Vangie watched her go. She stared at the doorway for several seconds after the dowager disappeared through it. Vangie rubbed her arms and shivered. Faith, had she traded one hostile home for another?

  Ian turned to the butler. “Please, fetch Tanny to my wife. She’ll need to prepare a temporary chamber for Lady Warrick until the Dowager Viscountess Warrick removes herself to the dower house.”

  Ian shot a look to the study door.

  “Jasper, I’d be most grateful if you’d oversee Lucinda’s packing. I’d like her to take up residence there tomorrow. See that she doesn’t help herself to the silver, will you?”

  Vangie breathed easier. Thank goodness. She’d not have to reside under the same roof with Lucifer—inda.

  Would she really take the silver?

  “At once, your lordship,” Jasper offered enthusiastically.

  Taking Vangie’s hand in his, Ian looked into her eyes. “Wait for me in the drawing room. I’ll explain everything after I’ve spoken with her.”

  Before she could respond, he swiveled and strode to the door the dowager just disappeared through.

  “If you will follow me, Lady Warrick.” Jasper looked at her expectantly. “The drawing room is along this corridor, Lady Warrick.”

  Vangie started. He meant her. She trailed behind the butler, feeling terribly alone and unsure of herself. This wasn’t the reception she’d expected, though truth to tell, she’d not known precisely what to expect.

  “Ah, here we are, Lady Warrick.”

  Opening double doors, Jasper stood at their entrance waiting for her to enter. “Lady Warrick, would you care for some refreshment?”

  He followed her into the room.

  Each time he called her Lady Warrick, Vangie had to mentally remind herself, he spoke to her.

  “Yes, thank you. Tea would be wonderful, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  Dipping his head, he replied, “No trouble at all, Lady Warrick. Please make yourself comfortable, Lady Warrick. I’ll return momentarily, Lady Warrick.”

  The man seemed delighted to address her by her formal title. Faith, how long would it be before she grew accustomed to it herself?

  She wandered over to the alabaster fireplace dominating one wall. Above it hung the portrait of a woman. Peering at her, Vangie recognized the silver eyes and high cheek bones. The artist had captured a lingering unhappiness in the woman’s expression, and though her hair was lighter than Ian’s, it was evident the painting portrayed his mother.

  “I’ll try to make him happy,” Vangie whispered.

  With a sigh, she turned away and surveyed the rest of the room. Floor to ceiling leaded glass windows graced the opposite side of the chamber. The walls were painted a filmy yellow, and the plaster border along the ceiling’s edge was intricate scrollwork. The faded silk draperies stood wide open.

  Brilliant streams of sunshine caused a myriad of rainbows to reflect throughout the room. Worn settees, covered in saffron brocade were centered on either side of a tall, marble-topped table. The scratched parquet floor was scattered with a variety of threadbare oriental rugs.

  A small writing desk was tucked beneath a window on the west end of the room where the mistress of the manor could enjoy the garden view while attending to her correspondence. Along one wall was an elaborate Taj Mahal shaped birdcage. Two silent canaries watched her from within.

  Vangie perched on the edge of one of settees and twisted her hands. Her gaze traveled the room once more. Though the furnishings were of the highest quality, they were generations old and well-worn. Not that she minded. It gave the room a homey, comfortable ambiance.

  Jasper arrived with the tea service, followed by a stern-faced woman in a crisp black dress. A jangle of keys was secured on a chatelaine at her waist.

  A trilling whistle rent the air.

  “Ah, Leopold is attempting to woo Lily again,” said Jasper, nodding at the birds.

  Vangie turned to peer at the pair. The male, a gorgeous cinnamon canary, puffed his chest out. He dipped and twisted in a courtship dance for the timid lemon-colored female sitting in their food dish.

  Vangie smiled at his antics, glad for the momentary distraction from her dour thoughts. She directed her attention to the tea tray and poured a steaming cup of tea. Adding a bit of cream, she murmured, “Thank you, Jasper. You’re most kind.”

  His, “Not at all, Lady Warrick,” was interrupted by Leopold chirping excitedly. It halted instantly when Jasper ordered, “Cease your infernal chittering, you lovesick fowl.”

  Vangie curled her lips in amusement, though she hid the smile by taking a sip of tea. It wouldn’t do to have him think she was laughing at him. She
needed an ally here.

  A harrumph startled her. Oh dear. She’d almost forgotten about the housekeeper. The woman had been silent up to this point.

  “So, it’s true then? Master Ian has taken you to wife?”

  “Yes—” Vangie sent a hesitant glance to Jasper.

  “My lady, Mrs. Tanssen is Somersfield’s most cordial housekeeper.”

  A hint of sarcasm shaded Jasper’s words. He duly ignored the glower the intimidating woman sent him.

  Mrs. Tanssen stood staring at Vangie, her lips pursed as she considered her new mistress. “Well, what to do? One can’t evict her ladyship without notice from the room she’s occupied for over twenty years, though you have the right to claim the chamber.”

  The housekeeper tapped her chin with her forefinger, contemplating. “Hmm, what to do? What to do?”

  Vangie wasn’t sure if she was expected to reply. She ventured a hesitant response, “Mrs. Tanssen, is it?”

  Piercing hazel-green eyes met Vangie’s, accompanied by a curt nod.

  She nearly danced a jig. She’d gotten a name right the first time.

  “I’m content to leave the arrangements as they are. Please, use your discretion, and place me in whatever chamber you deem most appropriate. Lord Warrick suggested a temporary chamber for me, and he may have other preferences he’s yet to make known.”

  A flicker of approval entered the housekeeper’s eyes. She angled her head, though Vangie wasn’t certain if the movement indicated her concurrence or irritation that she’d voiced an opinion.

  “I’ll prepare a chamber for you at once, my lady.” With that, the formidable woman departed the room, hauling the reluctant butler with her. She claimed she required his assistance in directing the footman.

  Vangie sincerely doubted the capable Mrs. Tanssen needed anyone’s assistance with anything—ever.

  Chapter 20

  No sooner had Vangie finished the thought than Ian entered the drawing room. Silent panther feet. She was fast becoming accustomed to them—to him. He’d changed into more casual attire.

  “Vangie, I have to be off. Charlotte has eloped. She’s underage, and I must try to stop them. I know little of Trevor Monroe, other than he’s the nephew of our neighbors, the Landthrops.”

  Vangie stood, sensing his urgency. “Of course you must go. I shall be fine.”

  Ian began pulling on his gloves. “I may be gone for a fortnight or more. Gretna Green is several days ride from here. They may not travel directly there.”

  Two or more weeks? Dismay wrenched her, though she hid it from him. She knew no one in this vicinity, in this house, for that matter. She’d yet to meet all the servants. Her new mother-in-law had made her feelings regarding Vangie, and her marriage to Ian, perfectly clear.

  She attempted a brave smile. “It will provide me an opportunity to get acquainted with the staff and to learn how to manage an estate of this magnitude.”

  Ian paused in pulling on his second glove. “I wanted to introduce you to Somersfield myself, but Charlotte is impetuous and not altogether logical, even when at her best. I’d never forgive myself if she marries Monroe on a whim, making a mistake she’ll live to regret for the rest of her life.”

  His tone was brusque.

  Silence greeted his words. How did one respond to that? Marriage . . . a mistake one lived to regret for the rest of one’s life?

  Was he speaking of his sister or himself?

  “Ian, I thought you’d left already. Do you care nothing for your sister?” The Dowager Viscountess Warrick’s grating voice disturbed the silence. She glared at Vangie.

  “Dear Charlotte’s the only family you have left.”

  He stepped away from Vangie. “I’m just going.”

  The obstinate woman refused to leave, allowing Vangie a moment’s privacy with her husband. The dowager stood impatiently tapping her toe, her vexation tangible.

  Ian cast a shuttered glance in his stepmother’s direction. His baritone voice hushed, he said, “If you have need of anything, you’ve only to ask Jasper or Tanny—Mrs. Tanssen.”

  “Yes, I will.”

  Vangie stared at him, memorizing his face. She wanted to trace the almost healed scratch on his jaw, but he’d returned to his cold, unemotional facade. Perhaps worry about his sister was the reason. She daren’t contemplate on what else may have caused his sudden coolness.

  “You’ll be careful?”

  The encounter with the bandits last night continued to plague her.

  “Always.”

  Searching his eyes, Vangie whispered a Romani blessing. “Zhan le Devlesa tai sastimasa. Go with God and in good health.”

  Ian half bowed, saying, “Thank you,” then strode to the door. He stopped before her ladyship. “See my viscountess is treated as she deserves. And please, do make the arrangements we discussed at once.”

  An unspoken message passed between the two of them before her ladyship turned her hooded gaze to Vangie.

  What arrangements, and why was his stepmother looking at her like that? Like a cat that has a canary? The dowager’s icy stare sent the hairs rising along Vangie’s skin. She wrapped her arms protectively about herself and shivered.

  Faith and good Lord. That woman’s eyes could freeze the scorching flames of hell with one glance.

  Her ladyship answered smoothly, “Of course, Ian.” She drifted into the room, trailing a finger across a table. Her compliant gaze met his once more. “Rest assured, your wife will be treated with the respect and consideration a woman of her station deserves.”

  Jasper entered the room announcing, “Pericles is saddled and waiting, sir.”

  “Thank you, Jasper.” Ian gave Vangie one last, lingering look, then passed through the doorway. He met Mrs. Tanssen just outside. Pausing, he spoke to her quietly.

  She darted a fierce glower at the dowager before answering him.

  Vangie couldn’t hear the exchange, nor could his stepmother if her annoyed scowl was any indication. When Vangie again glanced in his direction, he was gone. The ache his leaving caused took her by surprise. She’d known him barely a week. How could she be so affected by him?

  With a sigh, Mrs. Tanssen’s prickly mask descended once more. All brusque business, she marched into the drawing room. “Lady Warrick—”

  Vangie and Lucinda both turned to her.

  Oh dear. This was discomfiting. The dowager wasn’t ready to relinquish the position of Viscountess Warrick.

  It seemed impossible to Vangie, but Mrs. Tannsen pulled her rigid spine straighter, then looked directly at Vangie. “My lady, your chamber is readied.”

  “Put her in the south tower.”

  At the crash of a teacup shattering, Vangie’s gaze flew to Jasper. He remained stooped over the service, slack-jawed, gawking at the Dowager Viscountess Warrick in utter disbelief.

  “I beg your pardon?” croaked Mrs. Tanssen, her eyes wide as dinner plates.

  A shiver stole over Vangie. Something was too smoky by far. Was there something wrong with the south tower?

  “You heard me. Lock her in the south tower.”

  Though softly spoken, the dowager’s tone was jubilant.

  Appalled, Vangie gaped at Lucinda. Lock me in the tower? Vangie mentally shook her head. She’d heard wrong. The woman couldn’t mean to imprison her.

  Jasper drew himself up, indignation written across his noble face. “Madam, you overstep your bounds.”

  “Do I?” she mocked. “Who’s here to say otherwise? You heard Lord Warrick yourself. Did he not ask me to make the arrangements we’d discussed at once?”

  Ian told her to lock me in the tower?

  Confident of her position and authority, the dowagers expression was smug.

  Jasper straightened, outrage emanating from every pore.

  With an arrogant angle of her graying head, she said, “Just what do you think he was referring to?”

  “I’m sure I wouldn’t know, my lady.”

  Jasper adjusted his wais
tcoat and leveled her with a lethal glare. “But I doubt it was relegating his bride to the tower as a prisoner.”

  Vangie felt the glimmer of hope she’d tenderly nourished, sputter and die.

  “She’s the lady of the manor now, not you.” Mrs. Tanssen stood with her mouth turned into a mutinous frown. “I won’t do it.”

  She folded her arms and glared at the dowager.

  “Won’t you?” The Dowager Viscountess Warrick inspected the black lace on her sleeve and shrugged nonchalantly. “Fine. You’re terminated then.”

  She raised gloating eyes, an unpleasant smile distorting her thin lips.

  Mrs. Tanssen exhaled sharply. “I’ve been in residence at Somersfield far longer than you, my lady.”

  She pointed at the dowager. “You don’t have the authority to dismiss me without a character. Only Lord Warrick can give me my congé.”

  “Mrs. Tanssen is correct, and I answer to Lord Warrick, and only his lordship,” Jasper said, a challenge in his eyes.

  “Shall I send for the magistrate? I’m sure he’d be willing to escort two trespassers from the premises.” The dowager’s gaze, her eyes cold and hollow, shifted between the majordomo and housekeeper.

  Vangie’s stomach roiled at the vengeance in the dowager’s eyes.

  “I’ll go,” Vangie said, with a great deal more calm composure than she was feeling.

  Everyone’s gazes whipped to her. She almost smiled at the disappointed expression that flashed across the dowager viscountess’s face. Vangie didn’t suppose she’d expected her to acquiesce easily. In fact, she suspected, the woman had hoped she would have to be hauled, bound and gagged, to the tower.

  With poise she was far from feeling, she started for the drawing room’s doors. She paused after a few steps, sweeping Mrs. Tannsen and Jasper with her gaze. “I’ll not have you lose your positions . . . or have you forcibly removed on my account.”

  Vangie was quite sure the dowager didn’t have the authority to dismiss the housekeeper or butler, but she could have them barred from the premises until Ian returned.

  “It’s only for a fortnight,” she reminded them stoically. Meeting the dowager’s wintry eyes Vangie angled her chin, challenging her.