The Viscount Needs a Wife

by Jo Beverley

  The actress grinned. “I love it, especially when the play’s a good one. The response flows back from the audience to the actors. It’s a heady brew. Of course, if the play isn’t good, we’re more likely to get rotten fruit.”

  “Truly?”

  “Never for me these days. I choose my parts carefully.”

  “And Blanche is much loved,” Lady Ball said. “Are you enjoying your time in London, Lady Dauntry?”

  The ladies had been given the front seats, and Kitty was to the right of the other two. “I am very much. But I lived here for eight years until my husband died.”

  “Ah yes,” Lady Ball said. “He was a hero, sadly left crippled. I give thanks daily that the war is over.”

  “Amen,” Kitty said.

  The Earl of Charrington arrived then, and Kitty was struck by his effortless elegance. He rivaled Braydon in that, but in a subtly different manner. He kissed her hand in a way she found just a little flowery.

  When he turned to speak to Braydon, Kitty leant close to Mrs. Beaumont. “Is he foreign?”

  “Clever of you. No, but he was raised and mostly lived abroad until recently. His friends tease him about his Continental ways. Did you ever hear of Sebastian Rossiter?”

  “The poet? He’s not him, is he?” Kitty looked at the suave earl in astonishment.

  Mrs. Ball almost choked on laughter. “Never. But he married Rossiter’s widow, his ‘Angel Bride,’ if you’re familiar with that poem. Judith’s a lovely woman, but you wouldn’t expect the match. She’s very down to earth. We’d love to see more of her, but she prefers country life.”

  An unexpected match. Kitty’s marriage could be seen as that, and if the Charringtons’ had worked out well, she’d take it as a good omen.

  “Do you pine for copse and pasture?” she asked.

  “Only on stage,” the actress said with a chuckle. The curtain rose, and she added, “There’s a farce first. A rollicking bit of nonsense, or so they say.”

  The plot was quite ridiculous, but Kitty was instantly enthralled by the action on the stage. She was sucked into the events there as if she were watching real people through a window. She worried as Captain Tickall was chased by bailiffs and Captain Wingem by the law, even though she didn’t approve of debt or dueling. She gasped in shock but couldn’t help laughing when the rascals persuaded two honest wives to help them escape by telling the pursuers that they were their husbands.

  The farce ended in an “all’s well that ends well” manner, and the curtain came down for the first intermission. Kitty tried to pretend carelessness, but Braydon said, “I think you enjoyed that.”

  She plied her fan. “It was silly stuff, but very well done.”

  “And I can’t help thinking,” he said softly, “that it’s no more ridiculous than my business.”

  She raised her eyebrows at him. “You think the princes weren’t the princes at all?”

  He groaned. “Don’t toss that speculation into the stew!”

  Edward was serving wine and cakes from his place at the back of the box. A German gentleman came in to greet the Earl of Charrington as a long-lost friend, and they left to stroll the corridor together. Then Sir Francis Burdett came and sat with Ball to talk politics. Kitty knew he was one of the fiercest reforming members of Parliament.

  Lady Ball murmured, “Can we never escape politics?” but with a wry smile.

  Braydon went to join them.

  He had a seat in the House of Lords, whether he wanted it or not, but was he inclined toward reform? That could be dangerous, as it so often seemed to involve gatherings and riots, and then military action to keep the peace.

  “Is something amiss?” Mrs. Beaumont asked.

  “Politics,” Kitty said with a wry smile.

  “The curse of our age, but I support reform. Why shouldn’t a woman of property be allowed the vote? Don’t seek an answer,” Mrs. Beaumont said. “There isn’t one. But as long as men are allowed to imagine women inferior, everything will go to wrack and ruin.”

  “Blanche is a fierce adherent of women’s rights,” Lady Ball said.

  “You don’t think you’re inferior to men,” Mrs. Beaumont said to her.

  “No, but different. We bear the children.”

  “Which doesn’t deprive a woman of all wit and sense. And what of those of us who don’t?”

  It was perhaps as well the curtain rose on the main play of the night, but Kitty wondered if her barrenness explained her bold spirit and desire to control her fate.

  Chapter 40

  The play was an adaptation of the successful novel Guy Mannering, with the addition of songs. Kitty had read the novel and knew the plot, but that didn’t affect her enjoyment. Indeed, she thrilled to see it come to life, with lost children, smugglers, and wild Meg Merrilies.

  She had to stifle a protest when the curtain came down for the next intermission. Everyone left the box to stretch their legs and meet others. Kitty strolled with Braydon, talking about the performance when not being introduced again and again. She’d not expected this to be her first night amid the ton.

  Again and again they were congratulated on their marriage, but twice a gentleman said, “Kitty!” before recollecting himself. At least no one called her Kit Kat, but Major Corcoran put his hand to his heart and enacted a tragedy over her being snatched before he had a chance.

  “Don’t be foolish, Major. You know we would not suit.”

  “Ah, but the not suiting would have been magnificent for a while. Your pardon, Dauntry, but a man can’t help but envy you.”

  “And I can hardly object to such fulsome praise of my wife, sir.” There was a steely edge to it, however. Corcoran waggled his gingery eyebrows at Kitty and went away, leaving her annoyed.

  “Please don’t bristle at such foolishness,” Kitty said, “or you’ll be bristling morning, noon, and night. I can handle such matters for myself.”

  Before he could respond, three officers were coming toward them, including Edison.

  “You look splendid,” he said to her, as if he had a particular right.

  Kitty smiled at all three. “I’m delighting in the play. I’ve never attended one before. It’s so thoughtful of Dauntry to arrange this treat so soon.” She made sure to give him a besotted smile.

  “I invited you to the theater once,” Edison said.

  Kitty wanted to hit him, and had to admit it might be useful for Braydon to freeze Edison away, but she’d claimed to be able to handle such matters herself. “What a shame it wasn’t convenient, sir. Are you soon to be posted abroad again?”

  At her tone, he colored. “I must go where I’m sent.”

  “And I wish you all success, Captain Edison.” She turned to one of the other men. “What prospects for you, Hallward?”

  He’d caught her interaction with Edison, but he answered amiably. “I’m kicking my heels, but if that keeps me in Town while you’re here, Lady Dauntry, I don’t feel too hard done to.”

  She appreciated his deliberate use of her title, which Edison had avoided, and settled to a light discussion of military prospects. She was glad when Edison stalked off. Surely that had been strong enough to stop his folly.

  The next act was announced, and the other two men took their leave. Kitty prepared for something scathing from Braydon, but a thin, middle-aged gentleman approached.

  Braydon greeted him with a bow. “Sidmouth. My dear, I present Lord Sidmouth, our Home Secretary.”

  Kitty dipped a curtsy, wondering if some new drama had unfolded, for Lord Sidmouth looked odd.

  “A word with you, Dauntry.”

  Braydon escorted Kitty to their box door. “You’ll excuse me for a moment.”

  “Of course.”

  She watched him return to the Home Secretary and observed the brief exchange of words. It looked to come close to an a
rgument, but she couldn’t hover there. She went in and took her seat just as the curtain rose. Even as the play captured her again, she was aware of Braydon entering behind her, and wished she could ask what had occurred. Later, unless his jealousy put him in a sour mood.

  However, at the next intermission people came into their box and private discussion was impossible.

  When the play came to an end, with all the villains dealt with and the virtuous rewarded, Kitty was keen to return home and learn what Sidmouth had said. However, she learned that they were to host a supper at the nearby Bedford Hotel.

  As they walked there with their guests, she said, “You didn’t mention this.”

  “Did I not? A theater party must be fed.”

  “It could be seen as a wife’s duty.”

  “Then be pleased I spared you it.”

  His terseness could only be because he was still simmering over the scene with Edison. Surely he couldn’t fault her for that?

  Sir Francis Burdett and his wife were of their party, and the German gentleman Herr Grassmyer. They had been invited during the evening, and she wished she’d known and invited a few of her own acquaintances. In particular, her most ardent admirers!

  The arrangements were perfect, however, largely because the Bedford Hotel was expert at such events. Their private room was elegantly furnished and the supper delicious. There had been no difficulty over the extra guests, and it seemed the hotel expected that. Two extra tables stood against the wall, and one was easily added to the end, and covered and set in a moment.

  Braydon had probably arranged such suppers a hundred times and she hadn’t, but she couldn’t rid herself of grievance. She made sure it didn’t show, however, as she played hostess, and gradually her pique faded as she watched him play the charming host.

  He was so comfortable in this setting and so well liked by this variety of people. At first impression she’d judged him aloof, but she should have remembered then that he’d quickly become friends with Ruth and Andrew.

  It couldn’t be easy for him to have men clustering around his wife, and Edison had been outrageous. And yet, once she’d objected, he hadn’t interfered. Perhaps he wouldn’t have criticized her if he’d had a chance. It was doubtless Sidmouth who’d put him on edge earlier.

  She relaxed into good food, fine wine, and excellent company that was sufficiently varied to be interesting. They mostly even avoided politics. Sir Francis did once mention the Regent’s visit to London, saying he wished he’d lingered to attend to business, but no more than that. His wife, a very gracious lady, complimented Kitty on her gown—and then asked the name of her mantua maker.

  Kitty was delighted to be able to say, “A Mrs. Saunders of Moor Street, ma’am. A simple establishment, but Mrs. Saunders is very talented.”

  “So I see. I will visit her.”

  Kitty had to suppress a grin at the excitement likely to land on Moor Street in the near future, but she was delighted for Janet. And this would be only the beginning. No matter what happened about the Abbey, she’d return in spring for the season and wear wonderful gowns, and Janet’s fortune would be made.

  As they returned home in their carriage, Kitty told Braydon.

  “More exciting than you realize. Lady Burdett is the daughter of Coutts, the banker, and not short of money to spend. Nor are her well-married sisters or her wide acquaintance.”

  “How lovely. But what of Lord Sidmouth? More drama?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” She thought perhaps he wouldn’t tell her what had been discussed, but then he said, “He ordered me to cease investigations.”

  “About the attempted assassinations? Why? They’ve found the culprit?”

  “He said it was the Regent’s wish. That the Regent wished to avoid any alarm.”

  She read his tone. “That makes no sense. Those who know, know, and any enquiries won’t make matters worse.”

  “So why?”

  It was a serious question. Despite a glass of wine too many, Kitty applied her mind to it. “They don’t have the culprit, or he would have said so. The Regent is the culprit? No, that’s incredible.” She looked at him. “The Regent is afraid of what you might discover?”

  “Clever lady. Seems the most likely, doesn’t it? Or Sidmouth is afraid of what I might discover. I have no proof it’s the Regent’s wish.”

  “Heavens! But if Sidmouth devised the plot, why bring you in to investigate? He could have kept it in the Home Office and muddled it away to nothing.”

  “An excellent point. You could be an investigator.”

  “If I weren’t a woman,” she said, remembering the conversation in the theater box, “with a feeble woman’s brain.”

  “Have I ever accused you of that?”

  “No.”

  “And I never will, unless justified.”

  “Am I allowed to challenge you for feeblemindedness?” She pulled a face at him. “I can’t imagine it.”

  “I have many flaws, and I invite you to correct me as necessary. As for investigations, there are many situations where a woman can poke around better than a man, and some where she might have unique insights.”

  She studied him. “You’re serious. But what of the Abbey?”

  “Oh, damn the Abbey!” He took her hand. “Can we consign it and all it involves to the devil?”

  He’d opened a door to an exciting possibility, but she had to say a regretful, “No.”

  “No,” he agreed.

  “Perhaps one day. But as matters stand, I should return soon. I dread to think what the dowager’s been up to.”

  “Nothing significant. I get a daily report from Worseley.”

  She pulled her hand free. “And not a word to me, sir?”

  “There’s been nothing to say. I apologize! Again.” He captured her hand and kissed it. “We have been joined in wedlock for only a very few days, my dear Kitty. Neither of us can transform in a moment.”

  “No.” She studied him. “Am I? Your dear?”

  “Begging for compliments?”

  “More than a compliment.”

  “You are very dear to me,” he said. “A part of my life I would miss if you were gone.”

  That was not quite love, but it was precious. “As, alas, I must be.”

  “But not yet. Nothing is awry at the Abbey. Linger. There are more plays to see and more shops to plunder.”

  “And always will be.” But he wanted her to stay, and would miss her when she left. “You know I have to return, and that you must stay here until this matter is untangled. You can’t allow Sidmouth or the Regent to turn you from the path.”

  “Is that a command?”

  “Does it go against your inclinations?”

  He kissed her hand again. “No.”

  She tightened her fingers on his. “I have to say this, Braydon, even though it can’t change anything. I don’t want to part, and I wish we could live most of the year in London. Together.”

  “It would be delightful.”

  “Even though I’ll continue to attract my old acquaintances?”

  He grimaced, but said, “Even so. As long as they hold the line.”

  She was glad to reach the point. “Edison. I think that shot will have warned him off.”

  “He’s dangerously besotted.”

  “I never realized before. He has to see now that it’s hopeless.”

  “He might wish for my early demise.”

  “He’d never try to kill you,” she protested.

  “He might try to kill you. No, don’t dismiss it too easily. It’s a madness that takes men at times—that if they can’t possess a woman, no one should.”

  “I can’t believe it. I won’t believe it. But before you ask, I will continue to take my entourage when I go out.”

  “Thank you.”

/>   She leaned comfortably against him and indulged in dreams. “If I was able to live mostly in London, we’d need to use the house. Would you mind? I like it, and it’s as if it’s dozing, hoping someone will live happily in it.”

  “A sentient building? Do we dare speculate what the Abbey is thinking and feeling?”

  “Miserable thoughts. Oh, dear—now I want to rescue it. How? Even if we evict the dowager, if we have our way, it will stand empty. I don’t suppose we can lease it?”

  “It would cause a lot of talk, but if we reach that point, it might be the only solution.” She caught the smile in his voice as he added, “You want to rescue the world, don’t you?”

  “No, that’s you. I restrict myself to my immediate sphere. I’ll do what I can for the town house. New paint and paper. Some additional furniture. Piped hot water to your dressing room, so it could serve as a bathing room.”

  “A large bath,” he said, “so we can bathe together.”

  “Why?” But then she envisioned it. “You’re making me blush.”

  “I love to make you blush. I’ve read of projects to use steam to heat a whole house.”

  “That would be delightful. We’ll be a winter haven for gatherings of whatever sorts of people we each like.” She shifted so she could see him when she added, “Including a weekly Kit Kat Club.”

  She saw no reaction. “If there’s not enough space,” he said, “we could take one of the houses to either side.”

  “Have two houses?”

  “Knock them together.”

  “I never imagined that.”

  “Expand your mind,” he said, and they both smiled at memory of their first encounter.

  “Anything is possible?” she said, but then she pulled a face. “Not everything. Or not for some time. And if I were to live mostly in London, I’d miss Ruth. Having only just moved close to her, I’d be far away again. So the Abbey isn’t so terrible after all.”

  “Except that we won’t be there together.”

  He’d put it into words. She responded as calmly as she could. “Sometimes perfection isn’t possible, and we have more, much more, than we expected, my dear Braydon.”