The Viscount's Kiss

by Margaret Moore

  The tension eased, and they shared a smile.

  “Where’s Charlie? I thought he’d be here,” Drury said, surveying the ballroom. “Buggy’s anxious to talk to him about the ship’s provisions.”

  “There he is now, waiting at the end of the receiving line like a dutiful officer,” Edmond said, nodding at the tall, commanding figure in the line moving slowly toward the earl and his family. “Even without his uniform, he’s every inch the officer, isn’t he?”

  “I’ll sleep better knowing he’s in command of Buggy’s ship,” Fanny said, earning nods of agreement from her companions.

  “He’s not the only other late arrival,” Diana noted as a beautiful young woman dressed in the height of fashion in a gown of jonquil silk with ruffles from hem to knee, lace around the bodice and a necklace of garnets, appeared at the entrance to the ballroom. Pearls and more garnets were in her ornately dressed hair. The older gentleman with her, however, was dressed in what would have been appropriate for a ball fifty years ago. “Who is that?”

  “The Duke of Wymerton and Lady Eleanor Springford!” Fallingbrook announced.

  Nell started and Bromwell stared, while his mother smiled and his father cleared his throat.

  “Gad, Snouty, how are you? It’s been years!” the earl said as he moved toward the older man.

  Meanwhile, Lady Eleanor let go of her father’s arm and gracefully approached the countess, who was looking better rested than she had for many months since Bromwell had found out exactly what was in her medicine, which was mostly comprised of caffeine, and put a stop to it.

  “I was delighted to receive your invitation,” Lady Eleanor said in a musical voice and with a smile which revealed that even her teeth were lovely. “As well as your letter.”

  Nell stared at the countess, and so did her son. “Letter?” Bromwell murmured.

  “Yes,” Lady Eleanor said, turning to him. “I understand I’ve been of great assistance to you both, although I didn’t know it.”

  Nell wondered if she should say something—anything—or just be quiet and let Bromwell, who looked equally lost, speak.

  Lady Eleanor solved her problem for her. “I’m not at all upset that you felt it necessary to use my name. Indeed, when the countess told me of your predicament, I was quite happy to oblige.”

  A hint of merriment sparkled in her bright blue eyes as she ran a swift gaze over Bromwell, then addressed Nell. “I can’t say I blame you a bit for wanting to accept his invitation, even if it required pretending to be someone else.”

  By now, Bromwell’s face was scarlet, while Nell was more sorry than ever she’d used Lady Eleanor’s name.

  The orchestra’s leader looked at the earl, who nodded at Bromwell. “It’s time.”

  “I say, Charlie!” Bromwell called to a tall young man with a regal bearing who was standing near the earl, who was still talking to the duke while his wife looked on.

  The younger man skirted the older three and hurried to join them. “Aye aye, sir!” he said, saluting as he came to a halt.

  “Lady Eleanor, Miss Springley, this is Charles Grendon, late of His Majesty’s Navy and my very good friend. He’s going to captain our ship when we go on our expedition.

  “Charlie, would you be so good as to engage Lady Eleanor for the first dance? He’s a most accomplished dancer,” he assured her.

  “I’d be delighted,” Grendon replied with a polite bow.

  As grim as if he were about to be executed, Bromwell took Nell’s arm. “I wish we didn’t have the honor of leading the first dance,” he said as they started forward.

  “Smile, my lord,” she whispered. “It’s easier than the upa upa.”

  “I thought I was going to swoon when Lady Eleanor was announced!” Nell said later that evening as she and Justinian strolled on the terrace.

  “I was shocked myself,” he replied. “To think my mother had written to her and told her everything—and she wasn’t angry or upset. Indeed, she’s a very agreeable young lady. I note Charlie seems quite taken with her.”

  “She’s very beautiful.”

  Bromwell laughed softly. “She’s pretty, I suppose, and well dressed in a gown that fits, but…” He took her hands and held them out in front of him so he could survey her in the lovely gown of pale blue silk she wore. “Her beauty is nothing compared to yours.”

  Still holding his hands, Nell leaned back against the balustrade. “I fear your mother’s a very sly woman in some ways.”

  “I suppose she’s had to be sometimes, to get around my father. I must say, she seems quite a different woman now that I’m getting married.”

  “If we were staying in England, she’d be even happier.”

  “No doubt, but she’ll have plenty of time to spend with us when we return.”

  “And our children, if we are so blessed,” Nell said softly, turning so that her back was to him. “Show me again how the women of Tahiti give birth, without the crouching, of course, or you’ll crease your breeches.”

  “We can’t have that,” he said with a low chuckle as he came close behind and put his arms around her.

  With a sigh, she relaxed against him as he ran his hands down her stomach.

  “Are you sure about the expedition? What if you get with child on the voyage?”

  She turned in his arms so that she was facing him. “There’ll be a physician on the ship, won’t there?”

  “Yes. Dr. Reynolds is a very competent, open-minded fellow who wishes to learn about native medicines.”

  “And if we’re in the islands, there are midwives, are there not?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then since you will be with me, too, what need have I to fear? I will be in the best possible hands, and so will any children we may have.”

  “You are the most amazing woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. Such a pity you don’t appreciate spiders.”

  “I don’t hate them anymore,” she protested. “I’m even beginning to like them.”

  Bromwell smiled broadly. “I knew you were different from the moment you landed in my lap.”

  “I knew you were different the moment you told me you’d put that spider in your hat.” She caressed his cheek. “I also thought you were the most handsome man I’d ever seen.”

  In his evening dress, he looked as comely as any man in the ballroom, and given what else he had accomplished, he was superior to most. “I still find it hard to believe such a clever, famous, handsome man wants to marry me.”

  “Believe it, Nell,” he whispered as he pulled her into his arms, “and believe that you are the one blessing me by accepting my hand, for that is the truth.”

  His lips met hers with the same gentle, wonderful tenderness of their first kiss, and then, as always, desire unfurled within her, fueling the undercurrent of passion between them.

  She guided him back into the shadows and the vine-covered walls, out of sight, away from the illuminated windows and the people inside.

  He laughed softly. “This is hardly the time or place for an intimate encounter.”

  “I only want to be alone with you for a few moments,” she replied with bogus innocence. “Not so long we’ll be missed.”

  “I may not be able to tear myself away.”

  “Oh, very well,” she said with a disappointed sigh. “After all, we’ll have the rest of our…”

  He was staring at something over her shoulder and she twisted to see what it was. “What are you looking at?”

  “There’s an Araneus diadematus starting to build a web in the vines,” he admitted sheepishly, nodding toward thin white filaments barely visible among the green leaves. “There’s the bridge line, and the start of the spokes.”

  Smiling, happier than she’d ever been, looking forward to the future and the adventures yet to come, she slipped her arm through that of the famous Lord Bromwell and leaned her head on his broad shoulder. “Let’s watch it together, shall we?”

  Epilogue

  The Explorer
docked on Wednesday, August 5, the entire crew intact after a successful voyage. The Earl of Granshire has confirmed that his son, the famous naturalist, will be publishing a new book on the venture.

  —Bath Crier

  Plymouth, 1825

  “Make way there! Demme, let me through! I want to see my grandson!” the Earl of Granshire cried as he pushed his way through the crowd of seaman, navvies, families and friends of arriving passengers at the Dover wharf.

  His wife, holding a scented handkerchief to her nose to cover the odors of tar, hemp and sweating men, followed in his wake. Despite the crowd and the stench, however, she was no less excited than her husband.

  Lord Granshire halted and pointed at the small boy in the bow of an approaching longboat. “There! There he is!”

  Shouting hellos, the earl took off his hat and waved. “And there’s Justinian!”

  He turned to his wife, who was jumping up and down trying to see over his shoulder. “He looks very healthy and so does Nell and—good God! Is that a baby in her arms?”

  With an excited cry, Lady Granshire shoved past him, nearly sending the earl over the edge of the wharf into the water below. “It is a baby! And look at little Douglas—how sturdy and brown he is!”

  “Buggy!” the Honorable Brixton Smythe-Medway shouted from among the crowd a few feet closer to the end of the wharf. “Nell! Charlie!”

  “Watch what you’re about, Brix,” Drury warned as he moved away from his friend and nearly collided with Edmond beside him. “Sorry, Edmond, but our friend is a little overenthused.”

  Edmond gave Drury a sardonic smile. “Just imagine if our wives were here. It’s a fortunate twist of fate that they’re all expecting again. Otherwise we’d never have been able to convince them to wait for us at the earl’s town house.”

  “It looks like Buggy hasn’t been remiss in that aspect. Did you know they’d had another baby?”

  Drury shook his head. “They must have wanted to surprise us.”

  “They’ve succeeded,” Edmond replied.

  The longboat reached the wharf and a general hubbub ensued. Charlie, sun-browned and showing some gray at the temples, was the first over the thwarts and onto the wharf. Buggy handed his son over to him, then turned to take the baby from Nell’s arms while Charlie helped her onto the wharf. Once Nell was on the wooden platform, Buggy gave her the baby, then climbed out to stand beside them.

  The countess got to them first and she threw her arms around her son. “Oh, my boy! My blessed, blessed boy! You’re home and you’re never leaving again!”

  “No, I’m not,” he assured her before turning to another older man in the longboat, his face deeply tanned by the sun, his slender frame and gaunt face hinting at years of deprivation, as if returning from long and weary exile. The old man rarely took his gaze from Nell unless it was to look at her children. “This is Nell’s father, Edward Springley.”

  “Delighted, I’m sure,” the countess murmured, barely looking away from her son.

  “Hello, young man,” the earl said to the little boy standing with his arms crossed, surveying the chaos as if he found it fascinating until the earl interrupted his study. “Can you guess who I am?”

  “My other grandfather?” the lad replied warily.

  “Other grandfather?” the earl repeated.

  “Yes, that’s my Mama’s papa there. He’s been in Australia. It’s a marvelous country. I’m going back when I’m older.”

  “I sincerely hope not,” the earl muttered.

  “You’re also the Earl of Granshire and a very important man, Papa says,” the little boy added, which brought a beaming smile back to the earl’s face.

  “As clever as his father, by God!” the earl proudly exclaimed to everyone within earshot.

  “And a fine healthy child he is,” Bromwell said as he managed to disengage himself from his mother.

  “As is his sister,” he finished with a nod and a smile at the baby cradled in Nell’s arms.

  “A granddaughter! Let me see her!” the countess cried.

  Nell gently moved the blanket away from the slumbering infant’s face and exchanged happy and proud smiles with her husband and father as the countess and his male friends clustered around.

  “My God, she’s a beauty!” Brix declared as he studied the slumbering infant with dark brown curling hair and plump cheeks. “I claim her for my Harry.”

  “If she’s anything like her parents, I think my Brom might do well to consider her when the time comes,” Drury mused aloud, “but don’t any of you tell Juliette I said so.”

  Edmond leaned close. “Such a charmer will break a lot of hearts,” he said gravely, “although being Buggy’s daughter, she’s bound to be a bluestocking. If so, she’ll never do for my rascal D’Arcy, or his brother, either.”

  Nell laughed heartily. “She’s only a baby! Let her grow up and she shall make her own choice—and it may be none of your sons.”

  “May I hold her?” the countess asked, reaching out eagerly.

  “Of course,” Nell said. “I haven’t got my land legs yet.”

  “Papa says you have lots of horses,” little Douglas said to the earl. “Can I ride one?”

  “Certainly!” the earl replied. “And one of my best bitches just had a litter, so you shall have a puppy, too.”

  “Papa, did you hear!” Douglas cried with delight. “A Canis lupus familiaris! He’s going to give me a Canis lupus familiaris!”

  “Yes, Douglas, I hear you, and so can the whole wharf. Now, where’s Charlie got to?” Bromwell asked, looking around. “He said something about not coming for dinner and I…oh, isn’t that…? Egad, it is!”

  They all stared at Charlie, who was over by a stack of barrels kissing Lady Eleanor Springford as passionately as any of them had ever kissed their wives, which was very passionately indeed.

  “Yes, well, I suppose we can leave him here,” Bromwell said, turning to lead the way from the wharf to the area of the docks where carriages could wait.

  “You and the children shall come with us in the barouche,” his father announced, taking his grandson by the hand.

  He glanced at Nell’s father and gave him a smile. “Mr. Springley, too, of course.”

  “As you wish. And you’ll come to call tomorrow?” Bromwell asked his friends.

  “On the contrary,” Brix merrily replied. “We’re following you, for our wives are already there, anxiously waiting and probably complaining about all our faults.”

  “The children are there, too,” Edmond added, “the ones already born and the ones who will be within the next few months.”

  “Oh, how wonderful!” Nell exclaimed as she gripped her husband’s arm to steady herself as she also took her father by the hand. “I have so much to ask them—and tell them, too. I’m thinking of writing a book about our voyage, but unlike Justinian’s, mine will be a romantic novel.”

  “Excellent!” Edmond cried. “Diana will be pleased. She’s been saying you should be a writer ever since your first letter arrived. She found it delightful.”

  Nell beamed with pleasure and Buggy’s face shone with pride as they all followed the earl to the waiting carriages, until the countess came to an abrupt halt and turned to her son and his wife. “You haven’t told us her name! What is my granddaughter’s name?”

  “We named her after the woman the goddess Minerva turned into a spider,” Nell said.

  As the younger men and Mr. Springley smiled, the earl and the countess looked baffled.

  Viscount Bromwell, known as Buggy to his friends, grinned from ear to ear. “Her name is Arachne Juliette Diana Francesca.”

  “Well now,” Sir Douglas Drury said gravely, “that is what I call a name.”

  “Here, here!” his friends agreed.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-3811-8

  THE VISCOUNT’S KISS

  Copyright © 2009 by Margaret Wilkins

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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