The Viscount Needs a Wife

by Jo Beverley

  “I’ll discuss it with Lord Dauntry,” Kitty promised.

  She would have liked to wander the rooms again and perhaps unshroud some furniture and paintings in search of clues about Diane. That would be a waste of everyone’s time, so they took their leave.

  Once they were in a hackney, Edward made his report. “The two maids are her nieces, milady, but both seem sensible girls and good workers. Comfortable in a situation like that to have family around. I caught a suggestion that Mrs. Grant might not be as robust as she seems.”

  Henry said, “I noticed that her ankles were badly swollen.”

  “So she might be glad of an easy position,” Kitty said.

  She had a number of thoughts about the fifth viscount and his wife, but didn’t want to share them with Edward. Once they were back at Braydon’s rooms, she intended to go over them with Henry, but Sillikin expressed rapture at her return and an insistence on a walk. A long walk. Now.

  “If Cook’s been feeding you tidbits, you’ll need it,” Kitty said. “Come along, then. Henry, you can stay here.”

  The park was quiet at this time of year, so Kitty let Sillikin off the leash and had Edward throw the leather ball, for he could send it farther. After retrieving the third throw, Sillikin was racing back when she paused, turned, and ran in another direction, toward a pair of strapping young men in long cloaks over scarlet regimentals.

  One bent to take the ball and ruffle Sillikin’s fur, then threw it again. The men came over to Kitty, grinning.

  “Kit Kat, as I live and breathe!” declared Captain Claudius Debenham. “Town’s alive again.”

  “Less of your nonsense, Cully,” Kitty said, laughing. Debenham was blond, connected to a dukedom, and far too handsome for his own good. “And, in truth, my blue cloak seems too lively.”

  Cully pulled a face. “Good to be in uniform and spared that dilemma. Present Captain Barlow. Barlow, Mrs. Cateril.”

  Kitty acknowledged the other young man, but said, “It’s Lady Dauntry now. A recent event.”

  “Congratulations! Wasn’t Dauntry Beau Braydon? He’ll keep you up to style.”

  “Are you saying I’m wanting in that department?” Kitty teased, turning to stroll with the men, enjoying the lighthearted exchange.

  “Never,” Cully said.

  She let the officers take turns throwing for Sillikin. The dog would be ready for a long nap after all this.

  “It is good to see you back in Town, Kitty,” Cully said. “The Kit Kat Club is missed.”

  “Someone else will have to offer a gathering space.”

  “No easy matter. It’s a rum old world these days. We soldiers had a purpose once. Defeat Napoleon. Save the world. But now it’s all riots and mayhem. We’re more likely to be ordered out to fight Englishmen.”

  Another officer joined them. Kitty greeted lanky Captain Edison, who’d given her Sillikin.

  “I see she’s in good form,” he said, hunkering down to make a fuss of the dog. “Thought of breeding her?”

  “I’d be too softhearted to take her babies away.”

  He shook his head as he rose. “Typical Kit Kat.” The look in his eyes was too warm.

  “Did you hear my good news?” she said brightly. “I’ve been elevated to the peerage!”

  “What?”

  “By marriage. I’m Viscountess Dauntry.”

  He congratulated her, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You married from Cateril Manor, I suppose.”

  “No, I met Dauntry when visiting a friend near his seat in Gloucestershire.” She remembered the story they’d concocted. “Re-met, for we had known each other in the past. We married in a nearby village. Now tell me all your news.”

  But Edison demanded, “When was this?”

  Damn his eyes. What business was it of his? But the only way was lightly. “A mere few days ago. We’re honeymooning in Town.”

  “Then he’s neglecting you shamefully.”

  Cully Debenham intervened and talk became general again, but Kitty was aware of Edison fuming at her side. She knew he’d been overly fond of her, but she was surprised his feelings had lasted. Even if they had, there was no reason for outrage. He’d had nearly two years to pursue her if he’d cared.

  What would have happened then? If he’d visited Cateril Manor once her mourning year was over, she might have grasped the chance to escape. As matters had turned out, that would have been unfortunate.

  Other officers joined them, again greeting Kit Kat and seeming truly delighted to see her. She hadn’t known how much she’d missed being called by that cheery name. They came to a halt, sharing news, one man or another throwing the ball for Sillikin as required. Kitty teased one on his promotion and another on the news that he was a married man. She commiserated with a third on his difficult wooing.

  Then Cully said, “Here’s your husband.”

  Kitty turned to see Braydon approaching, escorted by Sillikin, ball in mouth, who seemed to be saying, Look what I found! Braydon’s expression was less readable. Kitty suddenly became aware of being the hub of a group of seven officers.

  Chapter 30

  Two of her coterie knew him, and they all congratulated him on his title and his marriage. He was amiable, but Kitty wasn’t surprised when the others took their leave. Perhaps she shouldn’t have encouraged such a cluster in public, but she hoped he wasn’t going to be tiresome.

  “Are you here for a walk?” she said. “I think Sillikin and I are ready for home.”

  Indeed, the dog was lying down, panting.

  “I was headed there myself when I spotted her.” He offered his arm, and she took it.

  Very well. As long as he wasn’t going to express jealousy, she’d ignore his coolness. She was probably imagining it anyway, fearing that he’d be like Marcus. She mustn’t do that. “I went to the house,” she told him as they walked toward the edge of the park. “It seems well maintained, but apparently the fifth viscount rarely used it. He preferred a club.”

  “Some do.”

  “It seems wasteful. I’m not being penny-pinching, but why?”

  “If he used the house, people would call and then he’d be expected to entertain, and thus he’d need a full staff. So it could be seen as economical.”

  “In a very odd way. Better to have rented it out for the season. If I had a house, I’d not choose a hotel or club.” Or rooms, for that matter. His rooms were spacious and excellent, but as she’d gone through the house, she’d realized that she liked the feeling of it all being hers, with no strangers above or below. “I wonder if he had something against the place,” she said.

  “Memories of his wife? He married in London, so they might have lived there together for a while, in happier times.”

  “A grand love and tragedy,” Kitty said, but then she pulled a face. “That doesn’t match his portrait, does it?”

  “No. Why are you fascinated by him?”

  “It’s not so much him as the situation. It’s odd.” She looked at him. “You’re going to think I’m being Gothic, but is it possible that the dowager did away with Diane?”

  His brows went up. “And buried her in the shrubbery?”

  “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it seems she simply disappeared. How is that possible?”

  “If she had any sense, she’d have wanted to disappear. If she’d set up house in England, her husband would have had the legal right to seize her. He might have challenged her lover to a duel.”

  “The man in the portrait?”

  “Placid men can be pushed into drama if sufficiently embarrassed. At the least he could have sued her paramour for damages, which can be set at ruinous amounts.”

  “So she went abroad.”

  “Possibly her lover was from abroad. It might have been his foreignness that gave her the courage. And once in Greece, Italy,
or some more remote spot, they could pretend to be married and live in peace.”

  “Then I hope she’s happy.”

  “You’re very forgiving of unfaithfulness.”

  Kitty chose to ignore the edge to that. “Would she really not let anyone know? Not even her own family?”

  “Perhaps they were estranged.”

  “I wish I knew how to contact them.”

  “The name is Hartley,” he said, “and they reside near Chipping Ongar in Essex.”

  “I didn’t know that!”

  “I didn’t know you were curious. Worseley gave me that information shortly before we left.”

  “I could write to them. Or visit. Essex is close by.”

  “Do you not have enough to do?”

  Without gathering gentlemen in the park. Kitty was tempted to pull the simmering issue to the front and let it boil, but she made herself be sensible. “I’ll not neglect my duties,” she said, “but the puzzle intrigues me, and Isabella might like to know.”

  “How much does a six-year-old remember? She’s probably been raised to hate her.”

  “You have a bleak view of the world, sir.”

  “Long experience, but am I unreasonable to have a bleak view of the dowager?”

  “Thus she might be capable of murder to rid her son of a troublesome wife.”

  They turned into his street. “If that were true, you’d want her to hang?” he asked.

  “No, but the threat will make her do as we wish.”

  “Gads, you terrify me.”

  She gave him a look. “I very much doubt that.” When he didn’t respond, she lost patience. “Do you object to my being with some officers in the park?”

  “It was disconcerting,” he admitted, his tone unreadable.

  “I won’t turn away old friends.”

  “And they will gather. How could they not? What if you find Diane is alive and happy in Herzegovina or China?”

  How could they not?

  Had that been praise or accusation?

  Kitty sensed it would be unwise to pursue the issue. She hated her own reluctance, but she had no wish to test her husband’s limits as yet.

  “I’ll rejoice and inform her she’s a widow,” she said. “She might be conventional enough to want to marry her lover. She might have children.”

  “I’d not considered that.”

  “Who knows what drove her to flight?” Kitty demanded. “It might have been the dowager’s cruelty or her husband’s. But it could have been the irresistible pull of love. That is a wild force.”

  “Only in novels and plays.”

  “Your view of the world is excessively mundane, sir!”

  “If only it were.”

  She remembered why they were in Town and welcomed a new subject. “Your business doesn’t go well?”

  “It hardly goes at all, but we have a diversion. We’re invited to dinner tonight, if you’ve made no other arrangements.”

  “An assignation with my host of admirers? We hadn’t had time to come around to that.” Damnation. She’d been determined to let that issue rest.

  “If it was a host,” he said, “I might not object.”

  “I assure you, Braydon, there will never be assignations with an individual.”

  “Very well.”

  It could be acceptance, but she felt his simmering suspicion, and that triggered her next words. “If we move to the town house, I might like to hold an open house for officers once a week. There is a need. I know they have their clubs, but sometimes they want something else.”

  “Someone.”

  “It’s not about me.”

  “I think it is, but if it came to that, I wouldn’t object. I assume I would not be excluded.”

  “Of course not. And I’d welcome other ladies, especially wives. And widows. There must be too many military widows.”

  “You’ll set up a matchmaking agency?”

  She couldn’t read his tone, so chose to take his words at face value. “Why not? Alas that so many military men can’t afford to marry, especially on half pay.”

  “And any number might prefer the single life.”

  Like you? With your comfortable, female-free rooms. “All the more need for a gathering place,” she said, “without gaming and hard drinking.”

  “A benevolent cause,” he agreed. “But the Abbey can’t be ignored.”

  Kitty managed not to curse. For a moment she’d enjoyed that vision of the future, with the Kit Kat Club revived, but in the spacious town house with the funds to be generous. However, at best she’d spend a couple of months in Town, and that would be during the season when there’d be less need for a gathering place.

  As they entered his building he said, “Our box is available for tomorrow at Covent Garden. I gather the theaters are never full these days.”

  “Mourning has gone beyond reason. I’ve even had narrow looks because of my blue cloak. Perhaps some think I should dye Sillikin black!”

  “Do you have half mourning to wear to the theater?”

  “It’s necessary? Then it’s good that I brought some. What about tonight?”

  “I doubt anyone there will care. The invitation was from Major Hal Beaumont. You might know him.”

  Did she detect an edge to that? “There were a great many men, and I don’t have your memory.”

  “He’s without an arm now.”

  “Ah! Such wounds are more memorable, though too common by far.” They climbed the stairs. “He served in Canada, yes? A very pleasant gentleman. Didn’t he marry an actress?”

  “He did. Will you object to dining at their house?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Of course not,” he echoed, but he didn’t seem displeased.

  They entered his rooms in a sort of harmony, but Kitty was aware of discord beneath. He would simply have to learn to trust her. They took lunch together, talking about a safe subject: the house.

  “Mrs. Grant would like a water boiler and a Rumford stove in the kitchen,” she told him.

  “By all means. We can see if it’s possible to install the hot-water piping to the bathroom.”

  “There isn’t one. Only tubs to be set up in bedrooms and no space to create one, either. But it needs a general refurbishment. I need not count the expense, need I?”

  “Short of silver-plating the walls, no.”

  “Would anyone?”

  “Nothing is beyond the foibles of the insane rich.”

  Which touched on the question of how rich they were. As she poured more tea, Kitty said, “I gather that much of the viscountcy’s money went to Isabella.”

  “The investments and such, but the viscountcy produces a decent income, and I have money of my own. You needn’t count the pennies.”

  “That will be pleasant.” The discussion itself was pleasant, but would he turn moody whenever he encountered her with her military friends?

  As they finished their meal, Braydon said, “I’ve been considering what you said about the fifth viscount. He mostly stayed at his club?”

  “That’s what Mrs. Grant said.”

  “I don’t recall any expenses from a club. Some memberships, yes, but if he was living in one for months on end, there should be more.”

  “Somewhere in the boxes of curiosity?”

  “We’ve gone through most of the papers.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “If he wasn’t living at the house or at a club, where was he?”

  Kitty considered it, then exclaimed, “A mistress! Why didn’t I think of that? One he’d set up in a house. He wouldn’t want his servants to know, so he’d claim to be at a club.”

  “Then there should be expenses relating to that.”

  “Oh, I suppose so. You think he was up to
something shady? From his portrait, it seems unlikely.”

  “It does. When we unravel this, we’ll discover something completely banal.”

  “Should we pity him for that assessment?”

  He gave a wry smile. “Probably envy him, but I don’t think either of us is suited to a dull and tranquil life.”

  “No.” She liked the way he linked them. She remembered thinking that Braydon’s longing for London was because of a mistress, but now she doubted it. He was simply enjoying being in Town and whatever work he was involved in. They were both suited to London and its challenges, but the Abbey and estates hung around their necks like . . . like slave collars.

  She remembered another scrap of Shakespeare. Something about things gone wrong, and someone cursed to have been born to set it right. Flies to wanton gods indeed.

  “Is something the matter?” he asked.

  She put on a cheerful face. “Only the thought of a dull and tranquil life.” She raised her teacup. “Lord save us from that!”

  * * *

  Braydon left to return to Peel Street. He could have remained at home, for there was nothing pressing to do, but he didn’t trust himself. He couldn’t rid himself of the image of Kitty in a circle of admiring military men, glowing with enjoyment.

  Had she ever glowed like that for him?

  Reason shouted that they’d known each other for only a couple of days, but that underlined that she’d known some of those men for far longer. Known . . .

  Their wedding night had wiped away any notion of her having many lovers. She’d seemed to come to bed with an assumption of one, clear way of going about it. That didn’t mean she hadn’t loved. Had she wished one of her established admirers had made her an offer so she’d not had to accept one from a stranger out of desperation?

  One of the military cluster had been Edison. He was the one who’d given her Sillikin, but also the one Braydon had lied to about her whereabouts. No wonder Edison had sent him a coldly furious look, but that proved a depth of attachment.

  He’d returned the look with interest. She’s mine now. Abandon hope.

  The last thing he should do was to show his jealousy, which was why he’d left, but perhaps if he returned, he could do better. . . .