The Reluctant Viscount

by Emma Evans

  “Afraid of me?” Simon scoffed, shaking his head. “Why ever would you think that? She is not afraid of me, not even when I danced with her at the ball….” His words trailed off as he remembered just how terrified she had appeared at first, how tense and afraid. Was it the fact that she had been unsure she would remember the dance steps? Or had it been a fear of being in his arms?

  “Get to know her a little more,” Lord Guthrie said quietly. “Find out what you can about her and then, I am sure, the solution will become clear. And do not be afraid of what you feel, Thackery. It is a blessing that not all men know. Do not reject it outright just because you think you should not feel such things for a companion. Find out if what you feel is genuine, if it blossoms and grows as you spend more time with Miss Dynes.”

  Blowing out a long, frustrated breath, Simon had to admit that what Lord Guthrie was saying was wise.

  “I do not like it when you talk sense,” Simon muttered, getting to his feet. “But, on this occasion at least, I will say that you are right. I never expected to have any kind of emotion for a lady, considering myself much too practical for all that, but it seems that I have been wrong.”

  Lord Guthrie chuckled and raised his glass in Simon’s direction. “Then I wish you all the best, Thackery. And do come and talk to me again should you ever require it.”

  “I will,” Simon said with a grateful nod. “You are very good, Guthrie. You will, of course, keep this to yourself, will you not?”

  “Of course I will,” Guthrie promised. “I will see you tomorrow at the theatre, yes?”

  “Yes, we should be there,” Simon said, remembering the tickets he had. “I have a ticket for Miss Dynes and have yet to convince her to come.”

  Lord Guthrie chuckled. “I look forward to seeing her there,” he said with a grin. “Good night, Thackery.”

  Simon chose to walk home instead of taking his carriage, his mind turning over with all that had been discussed. The truth was, when he had danced with Miss Dynes, he had felt such a quickening of his heart that he had wanted to scurry away until it resumed its normal pace. He was entirely unused to feeling such a way and it was still unsettling.

  But Lord Guthrie was right. He needed to talk to Miss Dynes and find out more about her situation before he could consider any further steps to help her situation. It might be that she was expected back home once her time with Sophia was finished and, given that she was still under her brother’s authority, she might have to return regardless of what he tried. Unless, of course, she was married by then.

  Approaching his house, Simon was surprised to see a dark, shadowy figure standing at the door, clearly talking with his butler. The butler had not opened the door more than a few inches, unwilling to let the man inside.

  “Whatever is going on here?” Simon said loudly, despite the lateness of the hour.

  The figure turned around to face him, before bowing so low that Simon wondered if he might be able to get up again.

  “My Lord Thackery,” the man said, his face hidden in shadow. “I have a note for Miss Dynes from her brother, Viscount Crawford. I must see her at once.”

  “Miss Dynes is abed,” the butler said, as Simon shot him a quick look. “I was not about to wake her, your lordship.”

  Simon nodded. “No, of course not.

  “It is urgent,” the man replied with another bow. “Please.”

  “What is the nature of this urgency?” Simon asked, unwilling to concede an inch. “Given that she is companion to my cousin, I feel it my duty to know.”

  The man cleared his throat, looking a little discomfited. “I am only a messenger, my lord.”

  “And yet you must know something of what is contained within,” Simon replied dryly. “Speak, man, or there will be no more of this conversation.”

  The man shuffled his feet before handing the note to Simon. It bore no seal and, clearly, had been opened once already. At Simon’s surprised look, the man shrugged.

  “It appeared that Viscount Crawford was in a very great hurry,” he said, explaining the lack of seal.

  “And you read the letter, no doubt,” Simon murmured, unwilling to do the same. “Then, tell me, what is this matter of urgency?” Something began to clamor in his heart, worry twining in his soul. There was something that wasn’t quite right, something unsettling about this whole scenario.

  “She is to be wed, my lord,” the man muttered, hanging his head. “Her brother wants her home at once in order to prepare for her nuptials.”

  Simon stared at him in confusion, horror rising in his heart.

  “I was told not to leave without her.”

  Trying to regain his senses, Simon shook his head. “You are going to return without her, I’m afraid. I will not allow my cousin’s chaperone to be taken from London in the middle of the night when she has already committed herself to the duty of chaperoning Miss Sophie during the Season. In addition,” he continued, trying to keep his expression steady so as not to reveal any kind of concern. “I am quite sure that these nuptials will come as a surprise to Miss Dynes and, given that she is of age to command her own future, you may inform the Viscount that, until she knows more details about her supposed husband, she will remain in London under my protection. Do I make myself clear?”

  The man looked terrified, torn between returning to the Viscount without his charge or pressing the matter with Simon. After a minute of looking from Simon to the butler and back again, the man eventually nodded, his head hanging down as he conceded that he would have no choice but to agree to Simon’s demands.

  “Good,” Simon said briskly. “Now, be off with you.”

  He watched as the man turned on his heel and practically ran down the street, leaving Simon far behind. Simon drew in a long breath and walked into his house, handing his coat and hat to the butler.

  “You did well, George,” he commented, as the butler looked over at him in surprise. “You need not look so astonished. I am glad you refused him entry and that you did not wake Miss Dynes.”

  “Thank you, my lord,” the butler replied, inclining his head. “I did not think it best to allow him in at such an hour.”

  “Indeed,” Simon murmured, his mind chewing over the note in his hand. “I shall dine early tomorrow morning, George. I need to speak to Miss Dynes the moment she breaks her fast.”

  “Very good, my lord,” George replied. “Is there anything else?”

  “No,” Simon replied, shaking his head. “I think I shall retire to bed and you may as well do the same.”

  He made his way to his room, his heart heavy and mind confused. He was sure that this marriage would come as a surprise to Miss Dynes but how he was meant to help her, he had very little idea. Perhaps, after a good night’s rest, something would come to him, something that would help him find a way out for Miss Dynes.

  Chapter Eight

  Clara dressed quickly and quietly before making her way outside. She slipped through the front door which, mercifully, was still open, and hurried down the steps before walking quickly along the street.

  Sophia was, of course, still asleep and Clara had an hour or so before she’d have to return to the house. She’d break her fast later, although the apple she’d munched before she left gave her more than enough satisfaction for now.

  Humming to herself, Clara tipped her face to the sky, enjoying the beautiful morning. The streets were fairly quiet, although there were a few folk scurrying here and there. It didn’t take her long to reach the park and, with a broad smile, she began to walk through the trees, enjoying the beauty of the park in the early morning. The daisies had only just begun to open towards the sun, the birds singing their hearts out as the sun rose higher. The gentle breeze tickled her cheek as though welcoming her to the park and Clara couldn’t help but stop where she was, close her eyes and tip her face towards the sun. It brought nothing but sheer happiness to her soul.

  “Excuse me.”

  Clara opened her eyes and turned, embarra
ssed to have been found in such a state—and found, much to her surprise, a man she recognized looking straight at her. He wore no hat, his attire making her realize he was a working man. Aware that she was entirely on her own, Clara took a step back and looked directly back at him, filled with a sudden ominous sensation.

  “I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me.”

  Clara’s mouth fell open, frozen in place as the man gave a slight shrug, expecting her to do just as he’d asked.

  “Your brother wants you back.”

  At the mention of her brother, Clara’s blood froze in her veins.

  “My brother?”

  “Wants you back,” the man replied impatiently. “Hurry now. We have to go.”

  He made to reach for her, but Clara stepped back at once, fear climbing up her throat. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  The man’s eyes darkened, his lips thinning. “Yes, you are. I ain’t about to go back there without you, not when I know what’s waiting for me if I show up on my own.” He shook his head, coming a little closer to her. “Your brother can be very cruel,” he said in a low voice. “Now let’s go without a fuss.”

  He was tall and quite broad, the strength in his arms evident as he folded his arms in front of her and waited for her to concede to him. Clara realized that she was to have very little choice in the matter—for even if she ran, then most likely the man would simply catch her. If she went with him willingly, would there be any chance to try and escape from him once she reached the streets of London? She certainly had no intention of abandoning Sophia and returning to her brother’s house, simply because he demanded it!

  “Why am I to go back?” she asked hoarsely, trying to keep her mind and expression calm. “What does my brother want?”

  The man snorted and shook his head. “Best you don’t know. Come on. I ain’t got time to wait.”

  He lurched for her, and despite her determination to remain calm, Clara screamed aloud and backed away out of his reach. Her eyes widened as she saw him glare at her, his determined expression telling her that she had very little chance of getting away.

  “Please,” she said, her voice shaking as she put herself behind a large bench, using the object to keep her separate from him. “I don’t want to go back. I’m happy here. I have a responsibility.”

  “So do I,” he replied, without even a hint of concern for her in his eyes. “I’ve got orders to obey.”

  He reached for her again but Clara scurried around the bench, keeping the object between the two of them. She didn’t know how long she could manage to keep them separate, her mind clouding with fear and doubt.

  “Stop!”

  The sound of another man’s shout had Clara shaking with fear, her legs beginning to tremble as she tried to keep her gaze fixed on the man in front of her. Was this his associate, come to help capture her and return her to her brother’s home against her will? She saw the man frown, his gaze lifting from her and turning to look behind him—and Clara took her opportunity.

  She fled.

  Her legs could barely hold her up and yet she tried her best to run as fast as she could to a large copse of trees, her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. A sudden pain in her side made her cry out, her vision blurring as she finally made it to the cover of the trees, leaning heavily against one large tree trunk and praying that they wouldn’t find her.

  A howl of pain caught her ears.

  Still trying to catch her breath, Clara peered around the tree trunk to see the man who had been trying to catch her now holding his nose. Red blood was streaming through his fingers and—much to her astonishment, there stood none other than Lord Thackery, his whole body rigid with anger.

  “I told you to leave her alone,” he roared, approaching the man again who began to back away. “Don’t you dare come near her again or it will be all the worse for you.”

  The man did not reply but backed away, clearly in a lot of pain. He did nothing but turn away from Lord Thackery, half running towards the gate that led back into the London streets.

  Lord Thackery watched him, as if to make sure he left the park, only to then turn back around and try to search for Clara amongst the trees.

  “Lord Thackery,” Clara whispered, coming out from behind the tree and stumbling towards him, not quite sure what had occurred but seeing him as nothing other than her savior. “Lord Thackery? I am here.”

  His eyes found her and, as he saw her outstretched hand, he ran to her and before she knew what was happening, had crushed her against him. She rested there, tears escaping from her closed eyes as she wrapped her arms around him, ignoring the impropriety of it all. He was solid and strong, telling her simply by his presence that she had nothing to fear. He would keep her safe, had fought the man simply to defend her and was now holding her so tightly that Clara wondered if he would ever let her go.

  “My goodness, Miss Dynes,” she heard him say, his voice hoarse and gasping. “Whatever were you doing, leaving the house like that?”

  He looked down at her and Clara was forced to lean back and look up into his eyes, feeling guilty and embarrassed but not knowing why.

  “Forgive me, my lord,” she whispered, loosening her arms from around him and taking another wobbly step backwards. “I did not know I was not meant to. I often take walks out of doors.”

  A frown knotted his brow. “You did not get my note?”

  “Note?” She shook her head.

  “At the breakfast table?”

  “I have not yet broken my fast, my lord,” she said softly, her head dropping. “I am truly sorry for causing you pain.”

  Much to her astonishment, his arms wrapped around her shoulders again as he held her, her weakness growing with almost every moment as the shock of what the strange man had done began to take hold of her.

  “You did not cause me any pain,” he said softly. “It is not your fault. You did not get my note and I did not expect you to leave the house. Thank goodness I saw the maid who told me you had gone out! Otherwise I cannot imagine what would have become of you.”

  Clara let out a shuddering breath, aware that her tears were soaking into his shirt. She realized then that he was not even properly dressed, that a shirt and waistcoat were all he wore. He must have left the house in a dreadful hurry to come and fetch her.

  “I do not understand what happened,” Clara said, stepping back from him and trying to draw in a few steady breaths. “That man, who was he? Why did you know him?”

  Lord Thackery shook his head, his face rather red. “It is all too complicated to explain out here,” he said in a low voice filled with frustration and anger. “Come with me, Miss Dynes. You need a hot cup of tea and something to eat and, once Sophia has been roused, we shall talk this all through. I would not have you worry, however. I promise to keep you quite safe, no matter what occurs. Can you trust me on that, Miss Dynes?”

  It was not a question she needed to consider, not even for a moment. After what he had done, after the way he had defended her, she knew she could trust him implicitly.

  “Of course, Lord Thackery,” she said with a wan smile. “Of course I can.”

  “Good,” he replied with a warm smile that caught his eyes. “Now, take my arm, Miss Dynes, and let us get you back to the house.”

  Chapter Nine

  The moment Sophia heard the news, her exclamations could be heard all down the hallway as she hurried, not even properly dressed, towards the dining room. Simon caught her arm, and explaining that Miss Dynes needed quiet and calm, admonished his charge a little, sending her back to dress properly before she could return to the drawing room.

  “Sophia will be back momentarily,” he explained as he entered the dining room, seeing Miss Dynes sitting at the table with a heavy shawl wrapped around her shoulders. “The tea tray is just on its way.”

  “You must think me so weak and frail,” she mumbled, not looking at him. “I am sorry for such a lack of strength, Lord Thackery. Had I ma
naged to outwit that gentleman then your hand would have been spared.”

  There was something in her expression that gave him pause, something that looked to be a great deal of pain and sadness combined. “You are very strong, Miss Dynes. I cannot imagine what it must have been like for you to endure such an attack. That man was strong and yet you managed to get away from him—and that even when you were unprepared for his attack.”

  She looked up at him, her eyes filled with doubt. “I have always simply accepted what was thrown my way,” she said softly, as though tearing open her heart for him to see. “My brother treats me poorly, says that I am to work for him and do as he bids me since I have no life of my own—and I have simply accepted it. I have never attempted to stand up for myself, never demanded that I be allowed to choose my own path.”

  Seeing her wretchedness and wanting more than anything to help ease that, Simon sat down next to her and, without hesitating, took her hand in his.

  “My dear Miss Dynes, that is not so. Did you not accept the Baron’s invitation without consulting your brother?”

  She shook her head. “No, I did not. I spoke to him of the invitation and he permitted me to go—but only because I was not of use to him at the time. There was trouble brewing with my presence in the house and I am quite sure his wife would have been glad of my absence.” Her eyes lifted to his, a sad smile on her face. “And so, you see, I am just as weak and as useless as I have ever been.”

  Simon did not know what to say, seeing her suffering and wanting desperately to find a way to remove it from her shoulders.

  “You are stronger than you know, Miss Dynes,” he said softly, putting his free hand on top of their joined hands. “I saw it today. You have that strength in you, the strength to make your own choices.”

  It was as though she had not heard him, shaking her head sadly. “But, my lord, he holds so much over me. If I do not do as he asks then I am likely to be thrown out without coin or the like, or married off to someone he thinks would be suitable. I am only of use to him if I do what he asks, and he knows that he holds my future in his hands. I have never been able to think about what I might do were I to turn away from his rule.”