A Viscount in Love

by Emma Evans

  Stephen held his breath, wondering if an argument was to break out, only for Miss Sarah to laugh and pat Lord Wilson on the arm, encouraging him to come and sit by her. He did so at once, with no smile on his face, his eyes suddenly fixed on Stephen.

  “Lord Larchmont is here to call on my sister, you see, Lord Wilson,” Miss Sarah continued, pouring him a cup of lukewarm tea. “You cannot be offended at that, for she has as much right to tea and conversation as I do.”

  A rush of heat crept up Stephen’s neck as he realized that he had barely spoken a word to the woman he was meant to be courting, his embarrassment growing all the more as he shot her a glance and saw that she, too, seemed just as upset as he’d expected. Her head was down, her cheeks red and her shoulders slumped, a figure of despair.

  “Yes, indeed,” Stephen began, trying to inject some cheerfulness into his voice. “In fact, I thought I might walk with Miss Grace when you walk with Miss Sarah, Lord Wilson.”

  “Miss Kingston, you mean,” Lord Wilson retorted, glaring at him only for Miss Sarah to put a gentle hand on his arm and explain the whole thing.

  “After all, Lord Larchmont and I have been friends for a long time,” she finished in an almost practical voice. “You need not take offence, Lord Wilson.”

  Lord Wilson seemed to be a little placated by this explanation and, for the first time, a small smile settled on his expression.

  Stephen could not understand why Miss Sarah had agreed to marry this gentleman. He was nothing like the kind of man she deserved, he thought, half wondering whether or not her family was in some kind of trouble which was forcing her to wed.

  “Shall we go, then?”

  Jolted from his thoughts, Stephen turned to see Miss Grace getting to her feet, her tea untouched and cooling on the table in front of her.

  He cleared his throat and got up, knowing he ought to be showing her even just a little bit of attention. After all, even though she knew full well why he was courting her, Lord Wilson did not and Stephen did not want to draw the man’s suspicions.

  “But of course,” he replied smartly. “It is a fine day for it and I should like to walk in the sunshine for a time. Are you ready now, Miss Grace?”

  “I am more than ready to leave this stifling room,” she replied, her words measured but her eyes flashing. “Thank you, Lord Larchmont.”

  Again, he felt the heat of shame creep up his neck but, ignoring it, he turned back to Miss Sarah and Lord Wilson, both of whom were now on their feet.

  “Capital!” he exclaimed, walking towards the door. “Then shall we go?”

  Chapter Five

  Grace was thoroughly miserable.

  She was at Lord Newton’s ball and, although her dance card held more names than usual, she hated the sight of Lord Larchmont dancing with her sister.

  His attentions could not be any more obvious… at least not to her.

  She had been forced to endure three separate outings during this week alone, all with Sarah by her side too, of course, for propriety’s sake—and she had hated every minute. Lord Larchmont was, unfortunately, a rather handsome and amiable gentleman, and to Grace’s shame, she had found herself longing for his attentions to be placed on her instead of her sister.

  It was more than foolish, and yet she could not help but desire the gentleman to look on her with the same delight with which he looked upon her sister. Sarah, of course, was enjoying every moment of it, going between her betrothed, Lord Wilson, and her besotted gentleman, Lord Larchmont, and lapping up every bit of attention she could.

  It made Grace sick. Neither of these men truly knew Sarah as she really was, but that was, of course, because her sister had been very careful to hide her true nature from them. No one saw the truth of it except her. It was clear that, even now, Lord Larchmont was deeply infatuated with the person he thought Sarah was, never once considering that the lady in his arms was not the lady he thought.

  “Miss Kingston?”

  As the music came to a close, Grace turned to see a young man approach her, bowing deeply at the waist. A flicker of recognition crossed her mind, although she could not quite place him.

  “Lord…”

  “Barnard,” he replied with a quick smile. “I believe it is our dance, Miss Kingston.”

  Blushing furiously, Grace made a meal of checking her dance card, embarrassed to realize that she had not recognized the gentleman. “Ah, yes. So it is. I do apologize, my lord, I…”

  “You have been introduced to a great number of new acquaintances this evening, I imagine,” Lord Barnard interrupted easily. “I am not in the least offended, Miss Knighton.” Offering her his arm, he gave her another broad smile, his dark eyes almost twinkling as he looked at her. “Shall we?”

  Grace nodded and took his arm, feeling a shudder of warmth race through her body as she did so. Lord Barnard was friendly and kind, and also rather handsome with his hazel eyes and dark hair. She found herself smiling as she took her place opposite him, her mind slowly letting go of all her troubling thoughts about Lord Larchmont.

  “You are a wonderful dancer, Miss Kingston,” Lord Barnard murmured as their dance finished and he took her arm again to lead her from the floor. “Perhaps next time I shall seek you out for a waltz, so that I might have you all to myself.”

  Heat rippled into her cheeks as he smiled at her, and Grace felt herself grow almost flushed with delight. “Thank you, Lord Barnard,” she replied softly. “I would not object to such a thing.”

  “Wonderful,” he replied, bowing again. “I thank you, Miss Kingston. Do excuse me.”

  Grace bobbed a curtsy, smiled and watched him walk away from her, seeing him glance over his shoulder at her one more time before disappearing into the crowd. A small, contented sigh left her as she kept her gaze fastened on him for as long as she could, wondering if there was anything in Lord Barnard’s attentions.

  “I do hope you are not betraying Lord Larchmont, Grace.”

  Closing her eyes tightly, Grace’s happiness evaporated in an instant. Her sister had returned from whomever it was she’d been dancing with, even though her betrothed, Lord Wilson, had not yet appeared at the ball to claim even a single dance with his betrothed.

  “After all, Lord Larchmont has been very attentive and would be much better suited to you than Lord Barnard. Barnard is only a second son who came into the title when his brother passed away—and, from what I know, he does not have a large fortune to speak of.”

  “I do not care about such things,” Grace replied through gritted teeth, unable to look at her sister. “And who I allow to court me is none of your business, Sarah.”

  A light laugh came from her sister’s mouth. “Nonsense, my dear! You know that I only show concern because I care for you so dearly.”

  Rounding on her sister, Grace glared at her, ignoring the others around them. “You do not care for me in any way, Sarah. The only thing you want is to have as much attention as you can on yourself, be it from Lord Larchmont or your betrothed or whichever other gentleman you decide to bat your eyelashes at. Keep your own interests and leave mine alone. I do not want, nor do I require, your help.”

  Her sister’s lips pulled thin, her eyes narrowing. “You would dare to speak to me like that?”

  “I will speak to you however I see fit,” Grace replied hoarsely, not backing down. “You can drag Lord Larchmont along if you wish, for I am not in any doubt that he does not care for me a jot, but I will conduct my own affairs entirely without your help. I will warn you now, Sarah, do not drag that man along if you have no intention of marrying him. He has a kind heart, even if it is a somewhat foolish one, and I do not want you to destroy it.”

  Sarah’s eyes narrowed all the more as two spots of color appeared in her cheeks, only for Lord Larchmont himself to appear by her side, wiping the expression from her face at once.

  “Ah, Lord Larchmont,” Sarah cooed, tapping his arm lightly with her fan. “And who is it you are to dance with next? I do hope it
is Grace, for I am certain she has been without a partner for some time.”

  Swallowing her anger, Grace tried her best to smile but failed miserably.

  “That cannot be quite right, Miss Sarah,” Lord Larchmont replied, making Grace look up. “Just now I saw Miss Grace dance with Lord Barnard, who is a fine gentleman, I must say.”

  Grace’s smile grew, her gaze darting towards her sister who looked, for the most part, rather frustrated.

  “I believe Lord Barnard wishes to court my sister,” Sarah replied, putting on a wounded expression as Grace tried to interrupt, tried to say that it was not so, only for her sister to continue speaking in a slightly louder voice. “I have told her not to agree to his court since you are so feverous in your own pursuit of her, but I am afraid she will not listen!” She shot a sly look towards Grace, her smile triumphant, only for Lord Larchmont to tip his head and study her for a moment, before letting his gaze return to Grace.

  “Far be it from me to tell Miss Grace who she may and may not dance with or even court, Miss Sarah,” he replied quietly. “Lord Barnard is an amiable gentleman and, whilst he does not have the largest of fortunes, I do not believe that this will importune Miss Grace in any way. No, I have no intention of standing in her way as regards Lord Barnard or any other gentleman of her acquaintance. I will simply continue my court regardless.”

  Grace could not look away from him for a moment, seeing a depth in his eyes that she had not expected. It was as though he regretted having to speak so frankly and yet untruthfully in front of her sister, although Grace knew full well that he had no intention of pursuing her in earnest. That was why she could accept Lord Barnard’s attentions, full in the knowledge that Lord Larchmont’s attentions were intended to come to nothing.

  “Thank you, Lord Larchmont, you are very gracious,” she murmured, as he gave her another small smile. “Lord Barnard is very amiable as you say but, then again, so are you.”

  His smile broadened and there came a moment of shared understanding. This was nothing but a play, a show for Sarah, where they continued to pretend that there was something of interest between them when the truth was there was not a single iota of true feeling.

  At least, Grace had to hope that continued to be true, aware that her heart was doing something rather peculiar on seeing the warmth in Lord Larchmont’s eyes, the kindness of his smile, the way his whole expression softened as he continued to regard her.

  “Well, Lord Larchmont, I find that to be rather foolish on your part,” Sarah replied with a disdainful sniff. “If a gentleman has intentions for a young lady, then I would expect him to pursue her with everything he has, not allowing another gentleman to get in his way. To my mind, that is how he proves his dedication.”

  “Then I am very glad we are so different,” Grace stated firmly, before Lord Larchmont could say anything in response. “For I appreciate the respect given to me by Lord Larchmont, in his willingness to allow me to decide my future.” She lifted one eyebrow and saw Sarah color, her cheeks burning with a sudden fierce heat—and felt victory within her grasp.

  “Now do excuse me, Sister dear,” she replied with a charming smile. “I think it is Lord Larchmont’s turn to dance with me and after that, I have a waltz with Lord Tentwhistle. I do hope Lord Wilson appears soon. After all, he ought to be paying you every last bit of attention, should he not? That is how he proves his dedication to you, just as you yourself said.” She saw Sarah’s jaw set, her lip curl, but took Lord Larchmont’s arm regardless. “I hope you are not alone for too long, Sarah. Do excuse me.”

  Chapter Six

  “You look troubled, Larchmont.”

  With an effort, Stephen lifted his gaze from his boiled egg to his mother, trying his best to give her a warm smile. “I am quite all right, Mama.”

  “It’s that young lady you’ve been courting, is it not?” his mother continued, deftly slicing the top of her own boiled egg off despite the footman standing beside her, prepared to do that very thing. “What did you say her name was?”

  “Miss Kingston,” Stephen replied automatically, not specifying which one he was speaking of. “And I am not troubled, Mama.”

  She chuckled, shooing the footman away. “I tell you that you are! You have had that distant look for the last half hour, even though your egg is going cold. Come now, what is it?”

  It was on the tip of Stephen’s tongue to tell her everything, only for a wave of hesitation to rush over him. To say his concerns aloud would be to give credence to them, to allow them to have some kind of control of his mind. Surely it was better to dismiss them all entirely?

  “Stephen,” his mother said, using his Christian name in such a gentle manner that Stephen knew she was truly concerned. “What is the matter?”

  Sighing heavily, Stephen poured himself a fresh cup of coffee and added a dash of milk. Eating a couple of mouthfuls of egg in order to collect his thoughts, he dismissed the staff and waited until the door had closed before beginning. The last thing he needed was for rumors to start. “Mama, I have been courting Miss Kingston, but I have always found myself drawn to her sister.”

  His mother rolled her eyes.

  “She is a creature of such beauty that I can barely take my eyes from her,” Stephen continued, sighing heavily as he thought of the angelic Miss Sarah before launching into a detailed description of the loveliness that surrounded her. “Her sister is less so, although attractive enough,” he finished, taking another bite of his egg.

  The Dowager sat back in her chair, chewing carefully before taking a sip of her tea. “You care for the sister you are not courting, Larchmont?”

  Stephen hesitated. “That is very bad form, I know.”

  “It is terrible form,” his mother replied sternly. “You are to have respectability and honor surrounding you at all times, Larchmont. You cannot court one sister and then drop her in favor of the other!”

  “No,” Stephen said quietly. “I have no intention of doing so, Mama.”

  “Besides which,” his mother continued, not listening to him, “I have not heard you mention anything of her character—in fact, all you have talked about is her beauty.”

  Opening his mouth, Stephen made to correct this particular oversight, only to close it again. He had been about to say that Miss Sarah was amiable, kind, compassionate and the like, only to realize that he did not know for certain whether she truly was compassionate. Not after last night’s conversation, at least.

  “I see,” the Dowager murmured, her eyes alight. “This is what is troubling you, is it not? Something about this beauty’s character.”

  Swallowing hard, Stephen drew in a long breath. “Mama, the truth is that Miss Sarah and I have known each other for some time, and I have always thought her good-natured, kind and sweet. She has always shown such care towards her younger sister, but last evening there was a conversation that unsettled me somewhat.”

  His mother’s brows lifted. “Oh?”

  Shaking his head, Stephen shrugged. “Perhaps it was nothing. It seemed to me that Miss Sarah was doing all she could to shame her sister in some way, to make her appear less in my eyes so that she might appear more. I did not like how she spoke to her sister and, on top of which, she outright lied in order to make Grace look almost poor and weak in my estimation.”

  “What do you mean?” his mother asked quietly. “What did she say?”

  The conversation came back to him as clear as day. “She told me that Miss Grace had not danced with anyone in some time, almost begging me to take pity on her, when in truth I knew that she had danced with Lord Barnard and had only just finished the dance itself. Miss Sarah did not seem in the least bit apologetic, mentioning Lord Barnard by name before I had the opportunity to do so. It was clear that she did know that Miss Grace had been dancing, and who with, but she chose not to say such a thing to me. Instead, she tried to make out that Grace had been doing nothing but waiting for my attentions.”

  There was a short pause and Step
hen, his mind confused, looked up hopefully at his mother.

  “It appears that you do not know Miss Sarah’s character as well as you first thought,” she said quietly. “And what you are doing courting her sister when it is clear that you have intentions for the elder is quite beyond me, Larchmont. Why not just reveal your intentions towards the elder and leave the younger alone?”

  Again, Stephen hesitated, feeling shame trickle down his spine. “The elder Miss Sarah is already betrothed, Mama,” he said slowly, aware of the slight gasp that escaped from her. “I do have every intention of bringing my courtship of Miss Grace to a satisfactory conclusion, however.”

  The Dowager closed her eyes for a moment, taking a hold of her whirling emotions.

  “Stephen,” she said slowly, opening her eyes and fixing him with a steely glare. “What has come over you? How can you call yourself a gentleman when you are acting in this way? If a lady is spoken for, it is beyond improper to seek her out, even by courting her younger sister in an attempt to draw closer to her, which is the only reason I can think of as to why you would do something as foolish.”

  “Mama, I—”

  Her hand sliced through the air, silencing him.

  “You speak of this ‘Miss Sarah’s’ beauty, but you speak nothing of her character. You tell me that her sister, Miss Grace, is tolerable enough but you can tell me nothing of her attributes. You are troubled because you are shallow in your affections, Larchmont. You have looked into their eyes and seen nothing but their outward beauty—or lack thereof, apparently. I did not think that you would ever be the kind of gentleman who saw nothing but bright eyes or a warm smile, who gave his heart to fluttering eyelashes or a tap of a fan on the arm.” She shook her head, her gaze dimming in its intensity. “You have a great deal of thinking to do, my boy. Whilst I will not trouble you with my thoughts again, I will tell you now that I think you are treating that young lady very ill. No one should be used in such a way, simply to be discarded when you either fulfill your hopes or find them dashed to pieces. That is not the kind of man I thought you were, Larchmont, and I must say I am disappointed to find out otherwise.”