Return of the Viscount

by Gayle Callen

  “No.” She pushed back her chair and threw down her napkin. “Don’t you dare say you believe my own brother would try to harm me.”

  “Drink does terrible things to people,” he said quietly. “I have seen it ruin a good man more than once.”

  “Not Oliver!” she cried.

  He could see her eyes swimming in tears, and the hurt cut him unexpectedly deep. “Until we can definitely rule him out, Cecilia, it makes sense to be wary.”

  “I’m ruling him out! You promised to help him—is this your way of neglecting that promise?”

  “Of course not. I was going to suggest that after Doddridge leaves, you invite Appertan to look over the books with us and discuss investment strategies.”

  “That is a good idea,” she said stiffly.

  “You can tell him about our guests as well, so he’s not surprised.”

  “You mean surprised when he’s expected to remain home this evening and entertain?”

  Michael raised both hands. “That is your decision, not mine.” He wanted to keep the mood light between them, especially since his family was coming, but he could not sit back while she ignored the danger her brother might be putting her in. “Cecilia, sometimes I think you blame yourself for your brother’s selfish behavior, and that’s a mistake.”

  Her eyes flashed at him.

  “He’s an adult, who must take responsibility for his own behavior.”

  “His twin brother died!” she cried softly. “That would hurt anyone.”

  “Ten years ago, Cecilia,” he pointed out.

  “You don’t get over something like that.” A tear slid from her eye, and she impatiently brushed it away. “I’ve never gotten over it.”

  “But you became successful, regardless.”

  “But it was my fault, Michael!” she cried. “Gabriel was under my care, and I didn’t see the crocodile! I was reading, for God’s sake, absorbed in what I wanted to do, not the responsibilities my parents had asked of me.”

  “If you blame your thirteen-year-old self, then you must really blame Gabriel for saving you.”

  She bit her lip, and more tears fell.

  “You would have saved him in a heartbeat. He simply beat you to it. Deep inside, Appertan knows he’s failing his brother’s memory. But he doesn’t seem to care. You can’t blame yourself.”

  “Even if you say I didn’t fail Gabriel,” she said slowly, “I still feel that way. And I won’t fail Oliver. You’re wrong about him.”

  “Then begin to let go of the reins you’ve attached to him. I challenge you to spend a day like a normal young lady instead of an earl. Let me walk Appertan through his duties.”

  Still, she hesitated, and he ached for the torment she inflicted on herself, the guilt she should not be feeling. She’d done nothing wrong—whereas he himself had made terrible decisions in his own life, and men had suffered and died. The pang of sorrow took him by surprise, and he put it away until the night, when the dreams would come to him.

  “I don’t believe that’s a good idea,” she said at last. “Your mother will be arriving.”

  “Not today, then. When they’ve gone.”

  “That could be at least a week.”

  “No, you don’t know my mother. She’ll want us to be alone with each other.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “You don’t believe in a honeymoon? Technically, we’re on ours. Finding a person attempting to murder you is not what one would consider a honeymoon adventure.” He lowered his voice. “Let Appertan run his own estates for a day. You want him to be a good man, a good husband to Miss Webster, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do,” she insisted.

  “Appertan reminds me of my father and grandfather, who squandered their estates and money. I wish someone would have helped them before it was too late. Let’s help your brother.”

  “I know you’re right,” she said in a quiet voice. “But it’s difficult for me to abandon the lands and people I love. But . . . my father entrusted Oliver to me. I can’t let either of them down. Very well, I’ll do as you wish and give Oliver a day.”

  Just a day, Michael thought, watching as she relaxed enough to finally eat breakfast. He was surprised how difficult it was for her to give up even that one day of control. He suddenly realized it would take her a long time to give up overseeing her brother, even once Appertan had taken over his duties. He would spend their marriage trying to persuade her to join him in India, and the time would never be right.

  Cecilia walked Lord Doddridge to the portico midmorning to see him on his way. More than once, he’d said how glad he was that she was unscathed, and he seemed sincere enough. But she was finding it difficult to trust anyone lately, and she wondered if she’d ever be able to feel normal again. What if they never found the person responsible for these “accidents”? Would she have to live in fear for the rest of her life?

  Michael waited at the door, watching her, she knew. And she was grateful. He escorted her to the study, where Oliver waited, arms folded across his chest as he glowered at them both. Cecilia talked about the account books, and what Lord Doddridge had been looking at. Though Oliver said little, at least he appeared to be listening, even occasionally nodding. Then Cecilia and Michael discussed the earldom’s investments, from mines to shipping to railways, and once or twice, Oliver asked a question. He tried to balk when she said he would be assuming her duties for a day, but it was Michael who pointed out that a steward could cheat an ignorant peer, and Oliver had to know what was involved, even if he wasn’t the one who oversaw everything every day. At last, he acquiesced.

  When Talbot announced the arrival of Michael’s family, even Oliver looked intrigued enough to follow them to the entrance hall.

  Cecilia stood back as the Dowager Lady Blackthorne and her son entered Appertan Hall. Both had dark brown hair like Michael’s, but Lady Blackthorne’s was threaded with silver, which, along with the confident way she carried herself, made her look distinguished rather than old. It was very obvious her beauty had once captured the interest of many a man. Her younger son seemed to be a more genial version of Michael, a bit shorter, lighter of frame, with eyes that crinkled when he smiled, and it seemed as if he smiled often.

  Michael grinned as Talbot took his mother’s bonnet and shawl and his brother’s hat, then swept them both into his big embrace. Cecilia saw Lady Blackthorne wipe away happy tears, and Cecilia felt the sting of her own. She well knew what it was like not to see someone you loved for months if not years at a time. After Gabriel’s death, when she and her mother brought Oliver back to attend Eton, there were long stretches where she never saw her father at all. And now, so many of her family were gone. Perhaps that was why she clung so tightly to Oliver.

  And now she was the wife of a soldier, she reminded herself bleakly.

  Then Michael turned and gestured toward her. She came forward and let him take her hand.

  “Mother, this is Lady Blackthorne, my wife, and her brother, Oliver Mallory, the Earl of Appertan.”

  Oliver bowed as Cecilia curtsied, and when she rose, she was surprised when Lady Blackthorne sank into her own deep curtsy, then smiled up at Cecilia with spry amusement.

  “I never imagined this pleasure,” Lady Blackthorne said, her voice deep and rich.

  Cecilia smiled, surprised to find herself blushing. “Does that mean you never thought your son would marry?”

  “We doubted it,” her other son said wryly.

  Michael sighed. “This is my brother, Mr. Allen Blackthorne.”

  Mr. Blackthorne bowed over her hand. “The pleasure is mine, Lady Cecilia. If I had known one could marry such beautiful women in India, I would have enlisted myself.”

  “But I did not meet him in India,” Cecilia said without thinking.

  Michael only looked amused as his mother’s smile faltered with curiosity.

  “Lady Cecilia and I had known each other through letters, and the gracious words of her father,” Michael explai
ned.

  Cecilia led the way toward the drawing room, noticing that although Mr. Blackthorne looked around appreciatively, Lady Blackthorne was focused on her.

  “So . . . you decided to marry without having met each other?” Lady Blackthorne said in bewilderment.

  “We married by proxy six months ago,” Michael explained.

  “No wonder you didn’t tell us.” Mr. Blackthorne grinned and shook his head.

  Lady Blackthorne was not smiling, her concern for her son very obvious. She looked from Michael to Cecilia and back again. Cecilia wanted to cause no damage to the Blackthorne family’s harmony, so she walked to Michael’s side and took his hand.

  He glanced at her swiftly, but if he was surprised, he didn’t show it, only squeezed her hand and looked down at her with a tender smile, the smile he’d first gifted her with last night, the one that made her realize that only she would ever see a certain side of him.

  Whatever showed in her and Michael’s expressions, apparently it was enough for Lady Blackthorne, who let out a sigh and gave a tentative smile.

  “Well, I have no right to worry,” she began, “and never would I judge. You both seem happy. And Lady Blackthorne, thank you for writing, because it looks like my son is a bit too distracted to remember his mother.”

  Michael squeezed Cecilia’s hand, as if bracing her against the teasing, and she looked up with a reassuring smile.

  For a few minutes, they discussed Michael’s injury, and he played down its severity, but Cecilia had seen the scars, and knew he might have come close to bleeding to death. She shivered. When Talbot announced luncheon, Cecilia led them all to the conservatory, with its trees and ferns and climbing ivy making the glassed-in room seem like a jungle.

  “I thought it would be a nice treat to eat under the autumn sun,” Cecilia explained, when her brother rolled his eyes at her. There was nothing wrong with trying to impress one’s mother-in-law.

  A cloth-covered table and wrought-iron chairs had been placed before the fountain, and the gurgling of the water was a soothing background to their conversation.

  Lady Blackthorne openly stared at Cecilia as they began to eat their breast of veal, and finally said, “Please do excuse my curiosity, but I cannot miss the bruise on your cheek. I hope the injury wasn’t more severe.”

  The whole neighborhood knew of the “poaching accident,” so Cecilia explained it as such.

  “How terrifying!” Lady Blackthorne gasped, her hand to her chest.

  “It was, but I truly didn’t fear for long. Your son rescued me within an hour.”

  Oliver continued to eat, not even raising his gaze. She told herself that he might still feel guilty for assuming she’d merely been avoiding the weather.

  Lady Blackthorne cleared her throat delicately. “There was a time when I thought Michael would marry a young lady who lived near our home. Now that I’ve met you, I’m so very glad he waited.”

  Cecilia straightened and eyed Michael in surprise, even as she thanked his mother for the compliment. She thought he would be embarrassed, but, instead, his jaw worked for a moment as if he clenched it.

  “Mother, you know that was never serious,” Mr. Blackthorne began, eyeing his brother.

  At last, Michael met his mother’s confused gaze. “Did you not realize what Father was doing?”

  “I don’t understand what you’re saying or why you’re angry with me.” She blushed madly and looked at Cecilia with embarrassed regret.

  Michael sighed and reached to touch her hand. “I’m not angry with you. I assumed you knew what Father was up to but were helpless to prevent it.”

  Cecilia stared at each Blackthorne with curiosity, and knew that Oliver did the same.

  Michael turned to Cecilia. “My ancestors married for money.”

  Lady Blackthorne blanched, as if she didn’t like the words said aloud.

  “My father was manipulating me into the same. He lied about our circumstances to our neighbor, leading him to believe having his daughter marry me would increase their wealth and connections.”

  Lady Blackthorne gave a soft gasp. “I never heard this,” she whispered.

  “It’s one of the reasons I had to leave,” Michael said, a note of apology in his voice. “I couldn’t let him do that to another woman. I didn’t want her to grow even more attached to me.”

  Cecilia stared at Michael, wondering if he’d liked the young lady and regretted that they couldn’t marry. And what had it cost his pride to marry her, a wealthy woman? No wonder he’d gladly refused her dowry.

  Lady Blackthorne’s eyes briefly glistened, but she didn’t cry. “Your father had his flaws, but in his own misguided way, he was trying to help you.”

  Cecilia could see that Michael didn’t quite believe that, but he didn’t contradict his mother. He kept his fingers linked with his mother’s, even as he answered Mr. Blackthorne’s questions about where his regiment had recently been stationed. Everyone seemed glad for the distraction except Oliver, who rolled his eyes.

  At last, Michael sat back to eye his brother. “So what have you been doing this past year? Your letters were filled with neighborhood doings or estate business, but I felt you were conspicuously leaving things out.”

  Cecilia was surprised when Mr. Blackthorne received an encouraging look from his mother.

  Mr. Blackthorne gave a crooked grin. “I just established my own law practice in St. Albans.”

  Michael stiffened, and even Oliver stopped eating in surprise. It was not every day that a gentleman went into trade. Oliver gave Cecilia a smug “I told you they were poor” look. Cecilia ignored him, for she knew how personally Michael would take this. He was a proud man, working hard to finance his estate on his own.

  “You could have told me what you were doing,” Michael said without emotion. “Doesn’t it take several years of apprenticeship?”

  “I recently finished articling with a well-established solicitor.” Mr. Blackthorne hesitated. “I wanted to tell you in person. I’ve been fascinated by the legal work for the estate, and I decided it was something I wished to pursue.”

  “So you’re enjoying it?” Michael asked doubtfully.

  Mr. Blackthorne’s grin widened. “I’m enjoying the challenge of it and the work involved. It seems I prefer to be busy most of the day.” He glanced at Oliver. “You must understand that, my lord, with the breadth of the earldom you’ve inherited.”

  “It’s important to surround yourself with knowledgeable people,” Oliver answered neutrally.

  Mr. Blackthorne nodded. “I’ve found that to be very true.”

  Cecilia didn’t mind that Oliver avoided mention of the duties she performed. She’d never wanted to embarrass him, only to help him until he was prepared. Michael was right—she hadn’t been preparing him well enough, only coddling him.

  Lady Blackthorne turned to Cecilia, as if she was anxious to change the conversation from her son’s legal practice. “Regardless of things that have been said, I want you to truly believe how glad I am that my son has chosen a bride. I will admit that my marriage was not a happy one, and I lived in fear that my experiences soured Michael on the institution itself. He was always such a sensitive child.”

  Michael rolled his eyes as Mr. Blackthorne guffawed, and even Oliver grinned. Cecilia knew her bright eyes must betray her, but she struggled to stay serious for her husband’s sake.

  “Sensitive, Lady Blackthorne? I would be so pleased to hear stories of what my husband was like then.”

  “Oh, he was very sensitive,” Mr. Blackthorne said, struggling to keep from smiling. “So sensitive that he thrashed me when we were pretending to fence with long sticks, so sensitive that he swam in the pond or rowed until exhaustion so he could defeat every other boy in the parish.”

  Michael calmly continued eating as if he was used to being teased and had long since lost that sort of sensitivity. Cecilia was surprised how much she enjoyed this glimpse into his past, and how relaxed she was becoming
among his family. Her family now. When Michael returned to India, she would at least have family to visit, his brother’s children to spoil, along with Oliver’s children.

  After luncheon, she suggested a walk in the garden to see the grounds. Lady Blackthorne fussed over Michael’s leg. His face reddened with exasperation, and he overruled his mother’s concern. Oliver escaped the outing with “a pressing matter,” and she gave him a warning look. He should be there that evening for Michael’s family.

  When Michael opened the conservatory doors that led to the terrace, he paused on the threshold and eyed Cecilia, saying in a voice meant only for her, “Stay by my side at all times.”

  “Do you think someone would actually shoot at us?” she whispered in disbelief. “Every attack has looked so . . . accidental.”

  “Do you know how many people ‘accidental’ hunting mishaps kill?”

  Her eyes widened, and she swallowed. “Oh.”

  He glanced back at the house, even as they led his family outside. “I wish your brother had come with us.”

  She stiffened, and said coolly, “Nonsense. I have nothing to fear from him, and I wish you’d stop saying so.”

  She noticed Lady Blackthorne watching them and gave her a pleasant smile, even as she slid her hand into Michael’s arm and briefly leaned her head against his solid shoulder.

  “I don’t wish to argue, not today,” she begged quietly.

  He patted her hand. “Of course.”

  But he didn’t smile, and it took everything in her to keep a pleasant expression. Luckily, Mr. Blackthorne began to ask her questions about the estate, and she appreciated the distraction. Forgetting herself, she discussed the mill expansion, the state of the stables, and how many tenants their country seat held versus the other properties.

  When, at last, they paused at the gazebo overlooking the pond, Lady Blackthorne said, “My lady, you have incredible knowledge of your brother’s property.”

  “It . . . is a fascination of mine,” Cecilia said, blushing. “I try to help Lord Appertan whenever he needs it. Now let’s continue walking this path, so you can see the Roman temple my ancestor envisioned.”

  Michael’s mouth twitched as he contained his laughter, while Cecilia simply ignored him and began to point out the landscaping. She was relieved he was over his pique with her, but was beginning to imagine the evening ahead, and what he’d expect of her, now that they were permanently married.