The Viscount Forgotten

by Emma Evans

  Lord Larchmont cleared his throat. “I’m afraid that Lord Cardan has returned to London.”

  Hector could not breathe, his breath leaving his body in one moment, his stomach tightening, hands clenching, mind screaming.

  “I’m sorry, old boy,” Lord Larchmont said, coming to sit by Hector on the bench. “I know what he did and, whilst I cannot understand how he can show his face again in town, it appears he has chosen to come back in the hope that the beau monde will accept him back.” He shrugged, his lips thin. “Or, mayhap, the ton want to see how things play out between you both. Nothing like a bit of gossip to keep London alive.”

  It was as though he were frozen in place, his heart slowly beginning to beat again as he took in the news that the man who had taken his place in his wife’s affection all those years ago was now back in London.

  “Where is he?” he said hoarsely, hardly able to bring his eyes to Lord Larchmont’s. “Tell me where he is.”

  “Afraid I can’t help you there,” Lord Larchmont replied with a slight shrug. “I don’t know, I’m afraid. I saw him yesterday at Whites, heard his voice from across the room.”

  “This cannot be,” Hector whispered, dropping his head into his hands and staring, unseeingly, at the ground. “It cannot be so.”

  There was a short, strained silence.

  “I’m sorry if I did wrong to tell you,” Lord Larchmont said slowly. “I thought it best you were prepared.”

  Hector lifted his head and nodded slowly, his throat working hard as he tried to gain back even a semblance of composure. “Thank you, Larchmont. After what I said to you last evening I am surprised you were so willing to seek me out.”

  Lord Larchmont gave a small, wry smile. “We were friends once, Lord Guthrie, and I hope we can be again. I would not have rested until I told you about Lord Cardan’s return to London. I know what this will mean to you.”

  Hector’s mind was filled with visions of what had occurred when he had discovered Lord Cardan with Elizabeth, hiding in the darkness of the gardens in the hope that none would see them. What had followed had shocked the ton—and brought them enough gossip to last them for weeks. Hector had been so angry he had punched Lord Cardan across the face, knocking him to the ground right in the middle of the ballroom. Hector’s wife, Elizabeth, had been screaming in his ear to leave Lord Cardan alone and it had been then that he’d realized she’d not been cajoled into anything.

  She’d gone willingly into Lord Cardan’s arms. He hadn’t wanted to imagine just how long it had gone on for, just how long they’d been involved whilst he continued to be desperately in love with the woman he called his wife, believing her to be in love with him in just the same way.

  Foolish, foolish man.

  “The ton were never sure what had occurred, according to the rumors,” Hector said slowly. “Some said that Lady Guthrie had been entirely innocent, that Lord Cardan had forced himself on her, whereas others said that Lord Cardan had been the one seduced.” He gave a slight shrug, his eyes narrowing as he recalled how the gossip had spread around society for weeks. “And, of course, Elizabeth had her own stories to put about. Stories about me and my supposed cruelty.”

  “I never believed a single word of those, Lord Guthrie,” Lord Larchmont said firmly. “I knew you would never lift a hand to your wife, would never dream of going to bawdy houses or the like.”

  “I was so deeply in love with her,” Hector whispered, his heart breaking anew as he remembered how happy he had been on his wedding day. “She tore my heart into pieces and stamped on them for everyone to see.”

  Lord Larchmont nodded slowly, his eyes thoughtful. “Do you know where she is now?”

  Shaking his head, Hector lifted his eyes to Miss Newton, seeing her still in deep conversation with the rest of her friends. “No, I do not,” he replied heavily. “Nor do I want to. The last I knew was that she was gone to Scotland with another gentleman.”

  “I’m surprised she managed to find someone willing to wed her after she had been so disgraced,” Lord Larchmont commented sadly. “I am sorry, Guthrie. I know it was all a very difficult time for you and now here I am bringing it all back to the fore.”

  “It is not your fault,” Hector replied at once, looking back at his friend. “You have done me a great service, for I am quite certain that if I had simply come across him one afternoon or the like, I would have planted him a facer and lost all the good reputation I have managed to claw back these last few months.”

  Lord Larchmont chuckled. “Just so long as you do not start plotting his death, Lord Guthrie,” he replied with a small smile. “I do not think that would be a wise use of your time.”

  “No, indeed,” Hector agreed, feeling a trifle better than he had a few minutes before when he had first heard the news. “To be clapped in irons and hung from a noose is not the kind of ending I had anticipated for my life.”

  Grinning, Lord Larchmont held out his hand and Hector shook it firmly. “Glad I could help,” Lord Larchmont said, getting to his feet. “I’d best get on. There’s a few other people I want to see this afternoon and I think, on top of it all, your charge is coming this way.”

  Turning his head, Hector saw that Miss Newton was coming back towards them, her expression filled with curiosity.

  “I’ll leave before you are required to make any kind of introduction,” Lord Larchmont said, somewhat hastily. “Good afternoon, Lord Guthrie. I do hope that you will be able to find a way forward through all of this.”

  “Thank you, Larchmont,” Hector replied, getting to his feet. “I hope so, too.”

  Chapter Six

  One week later

  “Make sure you have a decent bonnet and possibly a parasol. The sun is very bright today.”

  Sophia smiled to herself as she tied her bonnet strings under her chin, finding it quite delightful that Mrs. Drake should be so thoughtful. Over the last sennight, they had found each other to be wonderful company and had grown extremely close. They had enjoyed a wonderful few days in London thus far, attending everything from recitals to the theatre to a few balls. All in all, Sophia was very pleased with how it was all going. On top of which, she had more than a few gentleman callers, although no one had, as yet, asked to court her.

  That would come in time, Mrs. Drake had assured her. Until then, she was to simply enjoy their company and the pleasurable conversation that came with it.

  Only one thing troubled her.

  Lord Guthrie.

  She could not get him from her mind, growing steadily more upset with the quietness that was growing between them and desperately trying to think of a solution to it all. Whenever they went to a recital or to a ball, all she could think of was his face. She would try to speak to him, but he would immediately encourage her to go speak to another, reminding her that the more acquaintances she had, the better. He himself engaged with society very little, keeping away from large groups of people, never dancing and sometimes barely speaking to anyone at all. She caught others glancing at him and had sometimes even heard whispers about him spoken behind gloved hands but had never worked out the reason why.

  Sometimes, she lay awake at night, thinking of no one but him and wondering, over and over, why she could not get him from her mind when she knew there would never be anything between them. He had made that quite clear and, on top of that, was always gently reminding her that she was meant to be spending her time in London getting to know other gentlemen in the hopes that one of them might come up to scratch.

  “Have you your parasol, my dear?” Mrs. Drake asked, hurrying towards her with one in her hand. “I am sure you do not want to bring a freckle to that pretty face of yours.”

  Sophia turned to her and smiled, accepting the parasol without question. “Thank you, Mrs. Drake. I am sure I shall make good use of this.”

  “I expect so,” Mrs. Drake declared, looking out of the window. “There is not a cloud in the sky!” She turned back to Sophia, a slight frown between her ey
es. “When is Lord Guthrie coming?”

  Sophia opened her mouth to reply, only for there to come a knock at the door, making her laugh.

  “Right on time, as usual,” she laughed, as the butler hurried to open the door. “Do excuse me, Mrs. Drake. I do not want to be late for Lord Cartwright picnic.”

  Mrs. Drake practically shooed her out of the door, her eyes filled with happiness for Sophia. “Have a wonderful time, my dear. Do not hurry back. We have no occasions to attend this evening for once!”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Drake. Goodbye,” Sophia replied, before stepping out of the door and seeing Lord Guthrie standing at the bottom of the steps waiting for her.

  Something sparked in his eyes, something that made her stomach tighten as she descended the stairs carefully, accepting his proffered arm.

  “Thank you, Lord Guthrie,” she said quietly, as he led her towards the carriage.

  He smiled at her, his eyes still filled with that sadness she had first seen a little over a week ago although he had never spoken to her about it and she had never dared ask.

  “You look very lovely this afternoon, Miss Newton,” he replied, as the maid came to stand alongside them both so that she might ascend into the carriage. “I am sure Lord Cavendish will think so, too.”

  Murmuring a thank you and hoping he did not see her red cheeks, Sophia climbed into the carriage and sat down, waiting for both Lord Guthrie and her maid to join her. Within a few minutes, the carriage set off down towards the picnic, the horses in a fine mood as they broke into a trot.

  There came a brittle silence over the carriage, one that Sophia was slowly becoming accustomed to. It was a quiet of her own making for, after how he had spoken to her some days ago, she had not considered it worth her time to ask him much. And yet, try as she might, the urge to do precisely that had never left her. Instead, it continued to burn within her, forcing her to make a pronounced effort to keep her mouth closed.

  “Are you looking forward to the picnic?”

  Hating that they were forced into doing small talk, Sophia nodded. “Yes, indeed.”

  “Good.”

  Again, that silence. Sophia looked out of the window, feeling the time almost unbearable as the carriage rolled towards the park. She did not know what to say to him and, apparently, he had very little idea of what to say to her as well. This was so different to how things had been between them not that long ago, when Clara and Lord Thackery had been at home. They had talked often, and she had enjoyed their conversations, but now it was as though they barely knew one another.

  On top of which, Sophia found herself more and more caught by the pain she would sometimes see in his expression. She could not understand it, could not guess as to why he appeared so distraught and upset and yet, it lingered there whenever he was not looking in her direction or caught up in conversation with another. There was a part of her that wanted to soothe that pain away, wanted to take away the sadness from his expression, healing the wounds that were clearly burdening his heart, but still she said nothing. If she asked him, she was not likely to get an answer, and so, Sophia kept her mouth closed and her thoughts to herself.

  “How many are you expecting to be there this afternoon?” Lord Guthrie asked, his question making her want to roll her eyes and scream at him that there was more to their acquaintance than this banal, stilted conversation if only he would allow himself to open up to her a little more.

  “I am not sure,” she muttered, looking steadily out of the window. “There are to be a few of my acquaintances, I believe, but there may be some others that I have not met before.”

  “Tis always good to further one’s acquaintances,” came the reply. “I know you have had a few callers and I am sure that, soon, there will come one or two who wish to court you.”

  “And then your task will be complete,” Sophia replied, with a hint of derision in her voice as she allowed her irritation to spill over. “You will be freed from the burden of chaperoning me.”

  She did not look at him, did not so much as lift her eyes from the view outside as the carriage turned into the park. Heat climbed into her face as she heard the words she had spoken rattle round and round her head, making her more than a little aware of how rude she had been to him. She was annoyed that there was none of the friendship there had once been between them anymore, that Lord Guthrie had, for whatever reason, distanced himself from her ever since that very first ball they had attended together. He had refused to dance with her and that embarrassment continued to linger.

  “I do not consider you a burden, Miss Newton,” he said softly. “I plead for your forgiveness if that is what you think.”

  “Then why do you not speak to me as you once did?” Sophia returned, pinning him with her gaze. “You have very little to say to me, have told me to keep my concern for you to myself—although not in so many words, I grant you—and are more formal than you have ever been. I know that Lord Thackery had to twist your arm to have you agree to chaperone me and I am doing my best to find a suitable gentleman but that is a trifle difficult when one’s father is only a baron.”

  He colored, his brown eyes darting here and there as he looked away from her face, one hand running through his hair as he let out his breath. Sophia continued to regard him, keeping her gaze trained on him as he refused to look at her. Apparently, her words had hit home for she could see how he appeared to be rather embarrassed, as though he had not realized that he was behaving in a certain fashion.

  “I do not think a gentleman who overlooks you because of your father’s title is a gentleman worthy of your notice, Miss Newton,” he said softly. “And I promise that I do not consider you a burden. In fact, I think it is something that has been a blessing to me due to some… unexpected circumstances that have come my way of late.” He shifted in his seat as the carriage began to slow, his eyes a little wary. “It has been a good distraction, I suppose.”

  “A distraction from what?” Sophia found herself asking, unable to stop herself from doing so. “I know that there is something of great significance on your mind, for you cannot hide your weary eyes and troubled demeanor with a simple smile or a few hours of stilted conversation.” She lifted one eyebrow, her heart growing troubled for him. “What is it, Lord Guthrie?”

  “It does not concern you,” he said firmly, slicing the air with his hand. “You have already endured more than enough for one season, Miss Newton, what with all the trouble that came for Miss Dynes when she was your companion. It is high time that you were allowed a few months of merriment, without any consideration of anyone else’s difficulties, especially when they do not involve you in any way.”

  It was not the answer Sophia wanted and certainly not the one she was willing to accept.

  “Do you not think that it should be my choice as to whether or not I listen to or become involved in others’ difficulties?” she asked slowly, her brows knotting together as she saw Lord Guthrie shake his head. “I am not inclined to be selfish and entirely self-focused, Lord Guthrie.”

  “That does you credit,” he replied, a stubbornness creeping into his features. “However, I will not be opening up to you, Miss Newton, no matter how much you question me. Please trust me that this is for your own good.”

  Her sympathy for him evaporated as he finished speaking, seeing the firm line around his mouth and the determination in his eyes. Once again, he was shutting her out, not allowing her into his life in any way—and it was a behavior that she was growing tired of. For whatever reason, she could not pretend she did not want to know about him, could not pretend that she was easily able to ignore the sadness in his eyes and the slumping of his shoulders, but yet here he was, asking her to do just that. And, despite it all, her heart still yearned for him in a way it should not, for no matter how many gentlemen she had calling on her, no matter how many pleasant conversations she had or dances she enjoyed, there was only ever Lord Guthrie on her mind at the end of it all.

  “You want to hide away f
rom me, Lord Guthrie,” she said slowly, her fingers knotting tightly in her lap. “You want to be as alone as ever, pushing everyone away from you. That man who spoke to you at the first ball we attended, he was trying to be so pleasant and all you had was anger. Whenever we are in society, you are always in the shadows, hiding away, as though you are ashamed to be seen amongst the ton when I know you are a very respectable gentleman. I have seen them look at you, wonder about you, and yet none of your behavior changes. You will not dance, you will not converse, you will not so much as smile!”

  “That is none of your concern.”

  “Why won’t you let it be my concern? What is it you are so afraid of?”

  Her words reverberated around the carriage, with Lord Guthrie opening his mouth and then slowly closing it again, aware that he had nothing to answer her with. Sophia, her color heightened, looked at him sadly, her anger and upset fading away to nothing more than grief.

  “We started a friendship, Lord Guthrie, but you are unwilling to build on it. I see that now. I just wish I knew why.”

  Reaching up to rap on the roof, Sophia continued to hold his gaze, seeing his throat working as she waited for him to say something—but no words came from his lips. He could give her no answer, it seemed. Her shoulders slumped, her fingers reaching for the carriage door handle.

  “I think I will enjoy this picnic a great deal better on my own,” she said, tearing her eyes away from him. “I will return to the carriage when it is over.”

  She opened the door and made to step out, only for Lord Guthrie to catch her wrist and drag her back in, slamming the door back into place.

  Gasping in surprise, she turned to look at him, a joyous hope filling her.

  He was not looking at her. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the group of ladies and gentlemen sitting on the grass as part of Lord Cartwright’s company. His eyes were narrowed, his face flushed bright red.