The Vision of a Viscountess (The Widowers of the Aristocracy Book 2)

by Linda Rae Sande

  Chiara probably thought me a rogue! he pondered in dismay. The way her body had jerked just a bit as she glared down at him was probably a sign of disgust. The way she had inhaled and held her breath was probably because she couldn’t stand the stench of him. And the moment her entire body seemed to shiver despite the late afternoon warmth? Probably revulsion, he thought in despair.

  “You look as if you’ve lost your best friend,” Jasper commented, forcing Darius from his reverie.

  “I certainly feel as if I have,” the older man replied. He tore his gaze from the looking glass and regarded Jasper for a moment, rather surprised to find him fully dressed for dinner. Even his cravat was already tied in a simple knot, although it hadn’t yet been decorated with a pin. “Don’t ever leave the woman you love, Henley. Not for duty. Not for king or country. And certainly not for another woman,” Darius stated in no uncertain terms. “Even if she is your wife.”

  Jasper regarded Darius for a long while, rather stunned at hearing the man’s words. What the hell had happened in Darius’ past to have him saying such a thing? Even if she’s your wife implied Darius was already married when he met the love of his life.

  Given how close he and Marianne had become in their short marriage, at least at night, Jasper couldn’t fathom ever leaving her. Although he had left Sophie for a time—about a month while he was in Bath to study some mosaics at the Roman baths there—he had given her the option of traveling with him. She had declined in favor of staying in Kent.

  “Thank you for the advice,” Jasper finally said, almost making it a question. “Now, to be sure my wife doesn’t leave me, we really need to be making our way to the dining room.”

  Darius gave a nod and quickly finished dressing.

  On the other side of the dressing room door, Marianne wondered at the words she had just overheard. She had been about to knock, thinking her husband was with his valet when she realized the other voice she heard belonged to Lord Darius. Even if she is your wife had been followed by Jasper’s thank you for the advice.

  What had the older man been saying about her? Even if she is your wife implied her husband should be doing something contrary. Was he suggesting Jasper take a mistress? Go to a brothel? She was quite sure the older man had been doing just that every night since his arrival on the island.

  A bit heartsick, Marianne made her way to the dining room and did her best to hide her renewed insecurities.

  Chapter 30

  A New Lover Focuses on the Past

  Meanwhile

  “Forgive me. I did not mean to startle you,” David said with a bow when James appeared at his bedchamber door. He had brought the rest of the bath linens to James’ room and was folding the man’s newly-ironed laundry.

  James gave a shake of his head and closed the door. “You didn’t,” he countered. His gaze went to the laundry, and a grin appeared. “I appreciate you seeing to my clothes. I haven’t had the benefit of a valet in a very long time,” he added.

  “There is hot water for you,” David said as he indicated the pail near the pitcher and bowl. “I can bring more, and a tub, should you wish to bathe.”

  His gaze intent on how David held his clothes, on how he carefully folded each piece, on how he placed each item just so in the wooden drawers, James fought the urge to touch the younger man. “I would like that, but... later. After dinner. Will that be too late?”

  David gave a shake of his head. “Not at all.” He finished putting away the clothes and straightened. He couldn’t help but notice that the archaeologist hadn’t yet moved to wash or remove his sweat-soaked shirt. “Would you like help with your buttons?”

  Inhaling slowly, James nodded his head. “I... I would.” He let the breath out and struggled to keep his hands from reaching for the younger man as David stepped up to undo the waistcoat buttons. “Have you already seen to Lord Henley this evening?”

  David nodded as he pulled the waistcoat from James’ arms. “Dr. Jones dismissed me before I could assist the viscount.”

  James frowned. “Why would he do such a thing?”

  Undoing the crushed cravat from around James’ neck, David considered how to answer. “They were speaking of my mother, and I believe he wanted to do so without me hearing what he had to say.” The words were said without emotion as he continued to unwind the length of lawn until it came free.

  Remembering Lord Darius’ reaction to Signora Romano’s appearance earlier that day, James lifted a brow. “Dr. Jones is the one who recommended this villa to Lord Henley,” James said with a shake of his head. “How long has he known Signora Romano?” he asked as he pulled the shirt from his body. He moved to the bed and sat down. When he lifted a foot to remove the boot, David was quick to kneel before him and take over the task.

  “For more than twenty years, if what he said is true,” David replied, his brows suddenly furrowing. “Back when my mother lived in Rome.” He managed to get the boot off and began pulling off the other, his eyes darting to the bare chest level with his gaze.

  “Twenty years?” James repeated, just as the second boot came free. David had his stockings peeled off his feet a few seconds later. “She must have been very young.”

  David sat back on his haunches, staring at James with a combination of awe and confusion. “She is eight-and-thirty, I think,” he managed, as he admired the man’s chest. A dusting of blond curls was barely visible against the pale skin.

  James gave a shrug. “So she married rather young,” he commented. “Seventeen? Eighteen? How old are you?”

  “Twenty.”

  Blinking, James regarded the younger man a moment, wondering why he suddenly looked so stricken. All he could think about was taking him into his arms. Holding him. Providing comfort. For he was sure David was on the verge of tears.

  “What is it?” he asked in a whisper. He lowered himself from the bed and knelt on the floor in front of David, his arms wrapping around the young man’s shoulders until David’s face was pressed against a bare shoulder. A moment later, and David’s arms were around James’ back. “Pray tell, what is wrong?”

  David shook with a sob as he fought back tears. “I do not believe I am my father’s son,” he whispered.

  Frowning at the implication of his words, James countered with, “But, you’re not a bastard.” He felt David’s head give a slight shake against his shoulder, his silken hair tickling his bare skin.

  “Worse,” David said, his hoarse whisper barely understandable.

  James moved a hand to the back of David’s head, his fingers spearing the black waves as he pulled the younger man closer. “What could be worse than being a bastard?” he whispered.

  David stiffened before he finally gave into James’ hold. “I think Dr. Jones is my father.”

  Holding his breath a moment, as if he couldn’t believe what he had just heard, James wondered how to respond and found he couldn’t.

  What could he say?

  He couldn’t deny the possibility, nor could he confirm the younger man’s suspicion. So he simply held David for a time. When the younger man finally pulled away, his eyes were red.

  “I apologize, Mr. Singleton,” David started to say. But James held a staying finger against the valet’s lips and then replaced it with his own. The kiss, barely there and lasting but a second, confirmed what he had suspected but dared not speak of.

  Their foreheads left pressed against one another, they finally lifted their gazes until they were staring at one another. James was the first to break the silence. “I have to get dressed. They’ll wonder where I am if I don’t join them for dinner,” he said quietly. “Come to me tonight, when you have finished with Lord Henley,” he murmured. “That is, if you’ll allow me to hold you for a time.”

  David nodded. “I will come. With the tub and water,” he replied. “But first, I will dress you.”

  Rising to his feet, James offered a hand and helped David to his feet. Fifteen minutes later, James joined Lord and Lady Henle
y and Lord Darius in the dining room.

  It was the longest dinner of his entire life.

  Chapter 31

  Sightseeing Nearly Leads to a Fall

  A week later

  “Do you suppose I could come with you today?”

  About to pull on a pair of trousers, Jasper turned around. He was surprised to see Marianne sitting up, her sleep tousled curls wild about her face. He was sure he hadn’t disturbed her from her slumber when he left the bed. “Of course. If you’re sure you won’t be too bored,” he replied before moving to the pitcher and bowl. He smeared shaving soap over his cheeks and chin and lifted a straight razor from the dressing table.

  “What will happen to all the mosaics?” Marianne asked as she speared her fingers through her hair in an attempt to smooth her curls. When the men had all the dirt swept away, four distinct mosaics made themselves evident, although only three were mostly intact, their tesserae still in place.

  “The one of the hunting scene and the small one of the seashell have already been removed to a flat crate for transport to Palermo,” Jasper said with a hint of sadness. “As for the two smaller ones...” He had to grin at the thought of the two simple seashells outlined in rust tiles. “I think I shall see to them myself. Take one of them back to England for the museum.”

  Marianne grinned as well. The pair of matching mosaics had probably been part of the floor of a bathing chamber, although James had first thought their shape something entirely different from what finally emerged. “So you will start a new house today?”

  Jasper shook his head, his gaze on his reflection in a mirror as he shaved. “Singleton said he’ll be going into town. Our valet has agreed to give him a tour. Since we’re finished with the first excavation, he wants to see the ruins up there before we start work on another.”

  The two younger men had become fast friends since the week before, David’s interest in James’ studies leading to long nights spent discussing a variety of topics in the villa’s drawing room. Despite his role as valet to Signora Romano’s guests, David was at least as educated as Singleton, his barely accented English occasionally drifting to her bedchamber whilst Angela helped her undress for bed. Although she had pretended not to notice, Marianne was quite sure she had seen them holding hands whilst they discussed the architecture of a cathedral in one of Singleton’s books that lay open across their laps.

  “I’ll bring a book and my sewing basket,” Marianne said to Jasper, as she moved to get down from the bed.

  The appearance of her nude body in the dim light of a single candle lamp forced Jasper to tamp down his morning tumescence. “If you come with me this morning, who will bring me my late breakfast?” he teased in a quiet voice as he set aside the razor and rubbed his face with a linen.

  “I will. Aurora made up a basket for me last night,” she whispered.

  The odd tug in his chest was suddenly evident, and Jasper gathered Marianne into his arms. “That was kind of her,” he said as he bussed her on the cheek. “And rather kind of you, as well. Tell me, how did I get so lucky to marry such a good wife?”

  Marianne blinked, her gaze searching his for evidence he was teasing. “I suppose if you kiss enough women in the presence of Cupid, you’re bound to get lucky with one of them,” she said, her words spoken in a manner far too serious just then.

  Jasper blinked. “You were only the second, I promise,” he said, his brows furrowing. “And the last, I hope.”

  Marianne inhaled sharply, reminded of his conversation with Lord Darius the week before. The one she had overhead from the other side of the door. “The other night—when Lord Darius was here—what did he mean when he said, ‘even if she is your wife’?”

  Straightening, his hold on her suddenly gone, Jasper gave a shake of his head. He then realized why she had been so distant that evening during dinner. Why she had been especially cool towards the older archaeologist despite the warm greeting she had afforded him the first day he made his presence known. She had only spoken when asked a question, and then she spent most of the dinner lost in thought. Later, it had taken him longer than usual to coax her into readiness for his manhood. Longer for her to succumb to his ministrations and even longer to join him in ecstasy.

  “He was warning me that I should never leave the woman I love for another,” he whispered, well aware Marianne was ready to bolt from the room. “Even if she is my wife.” He wrapped an arm around the small of her back, effectively preventing her from escaping. Given her sudden start beneath his hold, he was glad he had anticipated what she was about to do. “Apparently, he did so, and has regretted it ever since. But since I am in love with my wife, I have no intention of ever leaving her,” he said as he pulled her closer.

  His lips were on hers before she could respond, the kiss as punishing as it was passionate. When he finally pulled away, mostly because he had to take a breath, he touched his forehead to hers. “I do not for a moment regret what happened to make you my viscountess. In fact, I am rather hoping to discover a heretofore unknown statue of Cupid I might take home and display in the back gardens, so I can kiss you in his presence whenever I am so moved.”

  “You’re in love with me?” Marianne asked in a whisper, ignoring the comment about Cupid.

  Jasper blinked. “You needn’t make it sound as if you’re surprised,” he countered. “Surely, you...” He paused, his shoulders slumping. “Had some idea,” he finished with a sigh.

  Marianne was suddenly pressed hard against the front of his body, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her lips on his. When she pulled away, she struggled to catch her breath before saying, “I hoped, of course, but you never...” She let out a yelp of surprise when she was suddenly being carried to the bed.

  “Said it?” he finished for her. “Are words really necessary given my nightly worship of your most beautiful body?” he murmured before he settled her onto the mussed bed linens.

  “Well...” she started to respond, the rest of her response swallowed by another kiss as one finger traced his clean-shaven jawline.

  “I apologize if it seems as if I haven’t done enough to convince you, my sweeting,” he said in a quiet voice, just before he impaled her in a single thrust. His growl filled the bedchamber when ecstasy overwhelmed him, his body slumping atop hers after only a few moments.

  As Marianne lay mewling beneath him, tears pricking the corners of her eyes in a combination of relief and happiness, she still wondered at Lord Darius’ words. For if he hadn’t been discussing her when he said them, who was he talking about?

  Jasper considered spending the day indoors—spending it in bed with Marianne—but curiosity about the floor of a ruined temple had him finally departing their nest of mussed linens and counterpane. Although he expected Marianne would stay abed, she soon made her way to her bedchamber to get dressed. When she returned, she presented her back to him and asked if he might do up her buttons.

  His lips took purchase on her neck before his fingers fumbled with the fastenings. “I’ll be exploring a different site today. Lord Darius says he is quite sure there are the remains of a temple with a tiled floor in an area near the ridge. A bit farther walk for us, but—”

  “I don’t mind,” Marianne said as she turned to face him. “Perhaps Singleton will share what he discovers in town at dinner tonight. Although Chiara showed me around a bit, we didn’t begin to see everything.”

  Jasper angled his head. “Or we might go exploring another day and find out for ourselves,” he suggested.

  “Is everything... all right between the two of you?” she asked carefully.

  “I think so,” he replied, despite the twinge of annoyance he felt at not having been invited by Singleton to join him and David on their sojourn to Girgenti. “I do think he’s had a bit too much sun.” He wasn’t about to add that he was fairly sure James had taken a lover. Jasper had never seen the man more content. Happy, even.

  As for whom he had taken as a lover, Jasper sorted it had t
o be someone close, because he was sure James wasn’t spending his nights down at the marina or up in Girgenti. He was also fairly sure he knew who it was. He just hoped the young man was truly willing and of a similar mind, and not because he was being paid to warm Singleton’s bed.

  A few hours later

  Jasper studied the odd carving, frowning when he realized the stone he had lifted from the volcanic soil had suffered a break at some point. Digging a bit deeper, he was about to pull out what he hoped was the adjacent piece when he noticed movement from the corner of his eye.

  Lifting his head, he allowed a grin as he watched Marianne gaze out toward the sea. Her parasol cast her head in shadow, but her yellow muslin gown appeared almost white in the harsh sunlight. About to return his attention to the carved stone, he realized she was strolling far too close to the cliff’s edge.

  Then he remembered she had refused to wear her spectacles that day, tucking them into her pocket when he started his excavation project. She seemed oblivious to the ground beneath her.

  The lack of ground only inches away.

  Panic gripped Jasper, but he had his feet beneath him and was launching himself from the ground just as one of Marianne’s half-booted feet was about to step over the edge. He had an arm around her waist just as a rock gave way and bounced down the rocky slope. About to stumble, she let out a squeak before she was suddenly thrown sideways and down to the ground by the force of his arm. The parasol tumbled down alongside her, it’s handle still attached to her wrist by a leather strap. Jasper landed next to her, although he quickly pulled her atop him in an effort to get her away from the cliff’s edge.

  Marianne blinked as she stared down at him, her bonnet toppling from her head. “Oh!” she managed, her breath held despite her astonishment. And then her brow furrowed as she realized his face displayed anger.