Viscount Can Wait, The EPB

by Tremayne, Marie

  At this, the woman’s dark eyes grew large, then narrowed into slits. Fury twisted her features. “You are not the woman he wants,” Mrs. Varnham seethed. “You are not the widow he wants.”

  “Let us assume this is true,” Eliza said, cursing the tremor in her voice. “If you were truly so secure in your relationship with Evanston, why would you go to such lengths to explain it to me?”

  The woman rose abruptly and brushed her skirts back behind her. “He is mine. We each have our separate flirtations, but this recent behavior is intolerable. Whether you agree or not is unimportant, but you will abstain from seeing him in the future.”

  Eliza stood as well, shrugging noncommittally. “I will make no promises.”

  “We will see about that.”

  With one last haughty glare, Victoria Varnham stormed into the hallway and, without waiting for assistance, threw open the front door and left the house. A moment later, Patterson poked her head into the drawing room.

  “Are you well, my lady?”

  “I am,” she replied, resting her hand on the back of a chair for support.

  Patterson approached and wrapped her arms around Eliza in a warm embrace. “It sounded like you gave as good as you got.”

  “Did it?” she asked, resting her chin on the maid’s shoulder. “I certainly hope so. Although I’m not sure how I’ll be able to face Thomas after this. The idea of him being intimate with that woman, and so recently—”

  “I’m not sure Mrs. Varnham can be believed. But even if she could . . .” Patterson hesitated. “Does it matter? I was under the impression you wanted a different kind of man.”

  Eliza’s head drooped sadly.

  “I’m not sure I know what I want anymore.” She sighed.

  Thomas assisted the footmen in unloading the final trunks from Caroline’s vehicle after ensuring the ladies were made comfortable inside the residence. Upon arriving at Willowford House, Lady Frances had immediately been ushered upstairs to rest and regain her strength—a necessity as the trip had taxed the elderly woman. Although he’d followed the pair in the privacy of his own carriage, Caroline had hinted to him that there were difficulties along the way. One only need observe the strain on her face to grasp the verity of her claims.

  After briefing the household staff on her aunt’s fragile state, Caroline joined him downstairs in the dining room for an impromptu dinner consisting mostly of sliced meats and roasted vegetables. Simple fare, made more delicious by their famished state. The two of them ate in companionable silence, their hunger overriding any outward motivation to be polite, with both parties fully aware there was no offense intended.

  Her pangs seemingly assuaged, Caroline breathed a sigh and took a long swallow of wine. She glanced over at Thomas, who was absently twirling the stem of his glass between his fingers, unseeingly focused on the light that tricked off the rim.

  “Thank you for helping us, my lord.”

  He blinked up at her. “You are quite welcome, although Eliza is more deserving of thanks. Had she not seen fit to make inquiries on your behalf, you would likely still remain in London.”

  “I have thanked her many times over. Especially since I know a bargain was struck to secure your assistance.”

  Evanston’s gaze sharpened. “I’m certain that’s none of your business.”

  “Hmm. Yes and no.” She raised her wineglass for another sip, then held his eyes as she replaced it on the snowy linen tablecloth. “While she is welcome to conduct her own private affairs, if a dear friend finds herself distressed on my behalf, I consider that my business.”

  “Distressed?” He eyed her incredulously. “I’ve never placed her in a position where—”

  “Did you not kiss her on the night of her engagement?”

  He paused, then conceded with a nod. “I see she finally told you about that.”

  “And do you not believe that might cause a young woman some distress?”

  “I doubt distress is what it caused,” he said sarcastically. “Clearly you and I have never kissed.”

  She eyed him critically. “You hide behind your bravado when the questions get tough. Don’t think I hadn’t noticed.”

  Thomas tossed his napkin beside his plate. “And don’t think for one second that my request of Eliza has caused her any sort of sacrifice. She agreed to the terms, after all.”

  “Eliza is a grown woman and can do what she pleases. But I disagree with your point about sacrifice. I think expecting her to postpone replying to any impending offers of marriage is quite a sacrifice indeed. And to what purpose, my lord?”

  Thomas could feel his anger rising. “To whatever purpose I wish,” he enunciated slowly.

  “And if she should lose suitors because of it?”

  “Then they never deserved her to begin with.”

  “Oh,” she seethed, leaning forwards. “And you do?”

  The legs of his chair scraped loudly as he stood to scowl down at her. “No,” he ground out. “But damn it, I have to try.”

  Thomas had said it without thinking, and only the dropping of Caroline’s jaw hauled him back to reality. He stared at her, nonplussed, while the truth of what he’d just spoken resonated in the stillness of the dining room. He ran a hand over his face.

  Christ . . .

  He took a breath, and then another. When he finally opened his eyes, Caroline was staring at him silently, her dark gray eyes round and shining. Thomas forced himself to speak.

  “I am tired after the journey. Excuse me.”

  She dipped her chin into a nod, her wide eyes never leaving his face. And as he turned on his heel to make a swift exit, one thing was abundantly clear.

  They were both now painfully aware that he was in love with Eliza.

  Eliza squinted across the expanse of Hyde Park. Lifting up her white silk parasol, she snapped it open, then settled back against the wooden bench with a weary sigh. She had nearly stayed at home on this final morning before returning to Kent, especially since Caroline and her aunt were already safely back to Hampshire and she would have nobody to accompany her to the park.

  But a last-minute prompting from Patterson had urged her forth in the midst of her melancholy mood. Her loyal lady’s maid had insisted that the fresh air and sunshine would do her some good, and now that she was here, Eliza couldn’t deny it was refreshing. But still she was troubled. While she was relieved that her friends had successfully completed their journey, she felt the loss of their company most keenly. The palpable absence of the black-haired viscount who had helped them was felt more keenly still.

  Much of her time the past week had been occupied by various callers—including multiple suitors—some who had already taken the leap and proposed, with others merely alluding to the possibility of such a thing taking place. The pace of these visitations had picked up at this late point in the season, and the frenzy was enough to make her head swirl.

  Really, it was quite bothersome, each proposal presenting Eliza with perpetual reminders of Thomas, and the comparisons between them all. Her relationship with Evanston had lately been strained, but she could not help but be affected by his willingness to assist her friends. Similarly, his request that she defer choosing a husband until later caused her blood to stir, her mind dwelling feverishly upon the possible reasons why.

  A cluster of wood pigeons pecked at the ground across the pathway. Eliza watched as a large male broke away, puffing its chest out proudly to bow and coo at a nearby female. Twirling round in an elaborate dance of courtship, he followed the feathered maiden as she ignored him, set on finding her repast among the grass. It reminded her of the season and all the posturing she had seen over the past summer. Not by Thomas, of course. Had this particular pigeon possessed an ounce of that man’s charm, Eliza was certain every female in the group would be regarding him with wide eyes and rapt, hopeful attention . . .

  The birds scattered suddenly, their wings clapping noisily behind their backs as a horse trotted to a stop near her
bench. She blinked and gazed up at the rider, tipping her parasol to block the sun so she could see.

  “Ah, Lady Eliza, I was hoping I might see you here. Rumor has it you are leaving later today.”

  Sir James dismounted swiftly to make his bow and she rose to greet him.

  “The level of interest the ton pays to my movements never fails to astonish me,” she answered with a laugh. “And yes, my trunks are packed. I will be leaving this afternoon.”

  He gripped the reins of his horse and tucked his riding crop beneath an arm. “I am only thankful to still find you in London. After all, it seems your friends have already departed for the country without so much as a farewell.”

  She smiled and waved the comment off. “Pressing matters called them home.”

  “And the viscount?”

  The question had been asked lightly enough, but she knew it surely carried more weight than he was letting on. Eliza raised her eyebrows in a show of indifference.

  “Why, I’m not certain what has caused Lord Evanston to leave London. Although, if I had to guess, I’d say it might be some business negotiations with my brother.”

  His forehead creased and his gloved fingers reached up to smooth one side of his moustache. “So, he could be in Kent upon your arrival?”

  “I suppose that is a possibility.” She shifted on her feet and twirled her parasol with a shrug to convey a general attitude of inconsequence, but her heart had begun thundering like a steam engine. She was getting the feeling he was preparing to say something important . . . and soon. Perhaps before he believed Thomas could seize the opportunity himself.

  Landry sighed and glanced off to the side, staring at the gentlemen astride their horses on the boulevard and the ladies who rode beside them. As if in the midst of an internal debate, he muttered beneath his breath then shook his head to gaze at her once again.

  “I told myself I would wait until the time was right—”

  Eliza found herself growing rigid in alarm. A curious reaction, since she’d always thought to welcome his approach, particularly with thoughts to marriage.

  “By all means, one should always ensure the time is right,” she interrupted with a nod, as if to confirm that his timing couldn’t be more wrong. Inwardly, she berated herself, even as her whole body seized at the thought of him continuing.

  What on earth are you doing?

  “But I find I cannot wait any—”

  Eliza turned away with a tiny gasp. “My goodness, it has suddenly become warm,” she effused with a fanning motion of her hand. It wasn’t a lie. Suddenly she was burning up in excess of some unidentifiable emotion.

  He paused to glance upwards at the light-dappled canopy of oak trees. “Er, why yes, I suppose the temperature has increased since earlier this morning. Regardless—” he continued.

  She was not listening now, instead casting her gaze out to the fashionable men and women, searching for someone, anyone she might know. Her reprieve came from an unexpected source.

  “Lady Eliza!”

  Eliza waved at Baron Latimer, who cantered lazily towards them upon his own steed. She lowered into a curtsy and Landry doffed his hat politely, although the expression on his face was anything but.

  “Baron Latimer,” he muttered, casting an anxious look at Eliza, who did her best to conceal the extent of her gratitude.

  “Forgive me, I cannot stay long. I only saw you from across the way and wished to inquire about Lady Caroline,” he shouted down from his horse. He shook his graying head. “It looks like she’s managed to foul up another season’s chances. Where is the girl, anyway?”

  Eliza felt her temper flare in defense. The chances of this conversation ending without her saying something regrettable had just become very slim.

  “That girl is my friend, and the daughter of the Duke of Pemberton. And you may rest assured that if she felt the need to return home, then there was an actual need to do so.” Her eyes flicked between the two men, who were now both regarding her with wary fascination.

  “I—I see,” stammered the baron. “Well, I thought I would just inquire since I received a letter from the duke just the other day . . .”

  Gripping her skirts, Eliza swished them behind her. “It’s funny how all his letters to you have not yet altered the outcome of her seasons. Why, I suppose if he were truly so concerned, he might come speak to his daughter himself. Although he would need to return home to do so, and I know how much he enjoys his travels.” She dipped into an obligatory curtsy and risked a brief look at Landry. “Sir James, it’s been a pleasure. Perhaps we will see each other soon.”

  Landry’s posture deflated at the sudden and abrupt shift of events. He started forwards as if to impede her withdrawal, then thought better of it, his hand snapping back down to his side. “I, yes, of course, my lady. I will count the days.”

  With a sharp turn, she retreated along the path she had come, blindly dodging riders and walkers alike. She was enraged at Caroline’s family, but she was also confused, kicking herself, and filled with dread. Eliza knew that, at this moment, the only thing giving her more relief than avoiding Landry’s attempted proposal was the thought of returning to Lawton Park for the chance of seeing Evanston once more.

  And that, she knew, was not good.

  Chapter Ten

  “Mama!”

  The excited squeal came barely a second before the little girl hurtled through the open door of the carriage, her soft cloth dolly clutched tightly in one hand. Quickly, Eliza opened her arms to receive her daughter’s embrace. Rosa’s infectious laughter mingled with her own cries of joy, and soon they were both wiping away the happy tears that were streaming down their faces.

  “I missed you so much,” she said with a sniff, giving Rosa a tight squeeze. “Did you have such fun with your Aunt Clara and Uncle William?”

  Rosa’s green eyes shone. “Oh, yes. But I missed you a lot too,” she admitted sadly.

  Eliza stroked a golden curl away from Rosa’s eyes and tutted in sympathy. She planted a kiss on an irresistibly chubby cheek.

  “I am back now, my sweet, and I can’t wait to hear about all of your adventures.”

  A soft knocking near the open door diverted her attention, and she peered around Rosa’s head to see her brother, the Earl of Ashworth, smiling into the vehicle.

  “Your journey must have been long, Eliza, and yet you don’t seem to want to leave the carriage.” He leaned in further to glance at the interior, appearing to admire the cushioned seats and gleaming lacquer of his own vehicle. “It is really rather nice, if I do say so myself,” he added with a wink.

  “William,” said Eliza with a teasing swat on his arm, “you are ridiculous!”

  The change in her brother’s demeanor since marrying Clara was marked and profound. Gone were the days of self-imposed solitude and misery. William had saved Clara, and she, in turn, had saved him. Lawton Park was once more filled with the laughter and light that had been missing in the years since the accident, and while it gladdened her heart to see it so, Eliza couldn’t help but be reminded of her own precarious circumstances. As of yet, there was no resolution to be found for her and Rosa.

  He grinned and withdrew, extending his hand at the door to assist them both as they disembarked. Unable to wait a moment longer, Clara rushed forwards to pull her close for an affectionate embrace.

  “Oh, Eliza, it is so good to have you home again.”

  “It is good to be home,” replied Eliza wearily. “Appeasing the ton can be so tiresome. And I’m not altogether certain I provided the entertainment they were hoping for. After all, not every woman is willing to pose as a housemaid,” she said, smiling impishly.

  Clara’s dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and she cast an affectionate glance at William. “You may call it willing, but I call it desperate.” Her hand slipped into the earl’s. “There was a lot of luck involved in finding this man, both bad and good. Besides,” she continued, “I thought you’d mentioned in your letter
receiving several offers of marriage prior to your departure from London.”

  Eliza sighed, her eyes wandering restlessly around the drive. The servants were lined up, as per the usual ceremony . . .

  “’Tis true, but—”

  Her eyes landed on an additional person, waiting patiently to greet her. His ebony hair glinted in the sunlight, blue eyes alert and awaiting the rest of her reply.

  “I, oh. Thomas!” Eliza hastily curtsied towards the viscount. “Forgive me, I didn’t know you were there.”

  He stepped forwards to make his bow. “I did not wish to miss your homecoming,” he responded politely, guardedly.

  Eliza’s eyes darted over to her brother. His presence served as a reminder that the events which had passed between her and Evanston were a secret, and must remain that way lest they risk jeopardizing the friendship between the two men.

  Tucking an errant lock of hair back beneath her bonnet, Eliza fumbled for a reply and caught sight of Clara, whose intelligent eyes were busy searching her face for an unknown answer to a question that was not yet being asked.

  “Shall we go inside to get settled?” Eliza asked a bit too cheerfully. “I’d like to take a walk with Rosa before the hour grows late.”

  William extended his arm towards the house. “By all means. But you should know that a ‘walk with Rosa’ might involve engaging in afternoon tea with the squirrels.” At Eliza’s look of astonishment, he added, “Not to worry, dear sister. They really are quite well-mannered, especially when supplied with Mrs. Humboldt’s tarts. Their preference is raspberry.”

  Upon their return to the Dower House later that evening, Eliza insisted that Rosa spend the night with her in her bedchamber. The two had lain awake spending hours catching up after a long summer spent apart, with Rosa eventually submitting to her fatigue after a particularly fanciful retelling of a theatrical performance put on by Clara and the servants. Eliza woke the next morning and smiled to see her daughter nestled up against her, dolly safely tucked beneath an arm, a lock of Eliza’s hair gently twirling between her tiny fingers.