The Appeal of an Elusive Viscount

by Hildie McQueen

  As if on cue, there was a knock at the front door. Moments later, the butler slogged past. Without announcement, Lady Harriet Montclair, the most prolific gossip of London society strolled in.

  Chapter Nine

  “I am not sure what to think,” her mother whispered to Lady Barrow. The breathlessness of it made Clara, who was walking past the parlor, hesitate.

  There was a light sound of a teacup on a plate. “It’s the talk of the town. How the viscount abandoned Clara and then was found by none other than Lady Montclair in that woman’s home.”

  They spoke of William. Had he gone to see Rachel Witting after they’d spoken? Her heart hammered as she moved closer to the doorway, not caring if the women inside saw her or not.

  Her mother blew out a breath. “There has to be a plausible explanation. Whatever should we do?”

  “We should cancel the engagement,” Clara said from the doorway. “This is unacceptable. I won’t marry him. He’s a scoundrel.”

  Her mother stood and drew her to sit. Lady Borrow gave Clara an understanding smile. The warmth in the woman’s eyes almost brought Clara to cry. “Don’t be brash, dear. It could all be a horrible misunderstanding. Tell us, did he explain why he left the party?”

  Clara nodded. “Yes, he said it was because he became ill. He also said a doctor had been called.”

  The entire situation was mortifying. And now that London society knew about the affair, it would be impossible to show her face in public. The looks of pity and curiosity would be her undoing. No matter how independent she considered herself, this type of experience would be hard to withstand.

  “I will not attend the dinner tonight, Mother.” Clara stood and left the room, needing the privacy of her bedroom.

  The silence of the empty house made Clara restless. She’d feigned a headache so as not to attend the evening’s event. Although her mother had understood, immediately agreeing she should remain home, her sisters had been very disappointed.

  Her sour mood would have dampened any enjoyment by her sisters. Now as she paced the empty bedroom, her mind constantly went from the kiss the day before to the fact that William had gone to Rachel Witting’s home. She wondered if he went to inform her he was leaving town or to invite her to go with him. It could be that they were making plans for a tryst when Lady Montclair had discovered them.

  Was it possible he and Rachel were going to his country estate together? Why had William proposed to her if he was enamored with another woman? Of course, it could be that the woman was older than William and could not produce an heir.

  She, on the other hand, was younger and would be able to bear children.

  Then there was the possibility that because of Rachel’s reputation for taking lovers, his family would never accept the woman.

  Tea earlier that day with Glenda had been most enlightening. She’d divulged that Rachel Witting was not liked at all by the women of their social circles. The widow had taken quite a few lovers, most of them married.

  The only reason Rachel was invited to social events was to add fodder for gossip and make the gatherings more interesting.

  Clara almost felt sorry for the woman. Why would anyone subject themselves to such occurrences? It made little sense.

  Abruptly, Clara decided that, perhaps, it was silly to not take action.

  Obviously, William had given little thought to her when deciding to leave and go to the country.

  Rushing from the room, she went upstairs to her bedroom.

  Once her carriage neared the gathering, just a few blocks away, Clara became nervous and, instead, directed the driver to take her to the Torrington townhouse.

  Then upon arriving there, once again, she wondered at the folly of her ways.

  She waited in the quiet evening bundled in her cloak until a butler hurried over to the carriage and informed her Lady Theresa was excited at the prospect of spending time with her. Her hands trembled and her legs threatened to give out from under her as she descended from the carriage and walked to the entrance. This was most forward of her, to arrive without warning.

  Thankfully, the chill of the air cooled down her overly-heated face. Hopefully, any reddening would be blamed on the weather.

  William’s mother greeted her at the doorway with a wide smile. Hands extended, she took Clara’s in her own and guided her inside. “I am delighted that you are here.”

  “I beg your pardon at coming without sending more notice. I find myself a bit confused and not sure who to speak to.”

  “Minerva, see that tea and biscuits are brought. Thank you, dear.” The maid who’d been standing at the doorway left and after Clara’s cloak was done away with, both women sat.

  “It has been an upsetting couple of days. I don’t blame you for being confused. I am not sure what William told you. I don’t agree with his decision to return to Berkhamsted. I informed him it was horrible timing and a bad idea. Now, he is brooding about it.”

  Clara’s stomach pitched. If William were there, what would his reaction be? “He hasn’t left then?”

  “Not as yet. He and Alexander had business with an actuary today. After, they were to see a tailor who is measuring William for his wedding attire.”

  Speechless, she realized she’d not thought about what he’d be wearing. They’d not even set a date for that matter. “We haven’t set a date.”

  “Yes, I know. Your mother plans for us to have tea the day after tomorrow to discuss it, with you present, of course.” Theresa looked to the doorway. “Hopefully, William will have decided to remain in the city.”

  “Was he truly ill?” Clara wasn’t about to mince words. “He told me the doctor had been here to see him.”

  “A doctor was summoned.” Theresa’s words were stilted. “Although we were told he was fine, I insisted he rest and remain abed for the rest of the day and night.”

  “I see.” Clara felt bad at not believing him. “Wait, you said day and night. Where was he the night before?”

  “Oh, look, here is Minerva with the tea now,” Theresa exclaimed much too brightly. “You’ll love the biscuits. They are delightful.”

  When tea was served, Clara noticed two large dogs by the hearth. They were sleeping soundly, seeming to being accustomed to people coming and going.

  “Are those William’s dogs?”

  Theresa smiled indulgently in the direction of the slumbering beasts. “Yes. The reddish one is Ellington and the darker one is Farnsworth. He named them after his tutors growing up.”

  “They seem content.”

  “Yes, they are exhausted. Charles, our butler, took them for a long walk earlier and they’ve just been fed. Both are horribly pampered.”

  Clara lifted the teacup to her lips. She had so many questions, but wasn’t sure how to proceed exactly.

  “Now, about William. Darling, you have nothing to worry about. He is quite enchanted by you. I know my son can tend to be headstrong. He has been so since he was a boy. However, I know him well enough to tell you he will marry you and be a wonderful husband.”

  “That is not what I have doubts about. I do believe he finds me attractive and that he will fulfill his obligation.” Clara hesitated, unsure of her words. “It’s just that I find it alarming that he left me alone at the gathering the other night and then plans to leave in the middle of our first social obligations.” She purposely left out the information about the rumors flying around. It would, no doubt, hurt the kind woman and it would be best if she heard it from someone else.

  Theresa straightened. “I will have a word with my husband and ask that someone go to Berkhamsted to see about whatever needs William’s attention so suddenly. Perhaps Alexander can go in his stead.”

  “I am not sure I should interfere in this,” Clara replied, wondering what it mattered now that the gossips would be chomping at the bit to see them together.

  “Interfere you must. Not just about this matter, but also about his plans for you to remain in London after the marr
iage.”

  Seeming to realize what she’d said, Theresa covered her mouth with one hand. “Oh, goodness. I can’t seem to keep from saying the wrong things.”

  “What do you mean, I will remain in London?”

  Her future mother-in-law’s shoulders fell. “I am sure he planned to tell you. He told your father. I suppose it’s best I do. Once you are married, William plans to return to Berkhamsted alone and visit London regularly. My son is convinced a woman from London would die of boredom in the country.”

  She’d have a chat with her father immediately.

  “My place is to be with my husband. I don’t understand.” Clara put her cup down because her hands shook so hard that she feared dropping it. “Why plan to marry if he doesn’t want to live with me? What about children?”

  “Oh, there is that. He has assured us that he would be sure you become with child...”

  “And be left alone throughout my pregnancy and to raise said child as well, I presume.”

  Theresa attempted to smile and failed. “I’ve said too much. I am not sure his plans remain the same actually.”

  “No,” Clara interjected. “I think they absolutely do. Thank you for telling me all of this. It gives me more time to grow accustomed to the idea of what to expect.” To her horror, a tear trickled down her cheek. It was all too much to take in at once.

  “Oh, please don’t cry. We will figure something out. I promise.” Theresa pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and held it out to Clara.

  “Good evening,” William said from the door. When he noticed Clara wiping her eyes, his gaze flew back and forth between her and his mother.

  He approached slowly, Alexander Yarnsby just behind him. “Did something happen?”

  Clara turned away, not wanting to face him just yet. No matter how angry and hurt she was, her traitorous body instantly reacted to his presence. Butterflies took flight in her stomach and her chest constricted at the sound of his voice.

  Theresa interjected, “There is nothing wrong, Son. It is just that Clara and I were discussing the wedding and she became emotional.”

  He would have probably believed his mother if Clara could’ve kept from glaring at him.

  William’s eyebrows rose and he exchanged looks with Alexander who backed out of the room.

  “What can I do to help?” he asked. Clara held back the urge to tell him to leave and never come back.

  Fortunately, her future mother-in-law decided it was a good time for them to be alone. “I think I’ll check to see if Minerva has more of these delicious biscuits.”

  Once the woman left, Clara took a long breath and did her best to compose herself.

  “Perhaps it is best if we cancel the engagement. You can go back to your solitary life in the country and I can find a husband that does not require a mistress,” Clara stated. Her sharp tone was unrestrained as she remained firmly annoyed.

  There was a noticeable tick in William’s jaw as he fought to maintain control. Clara was delighted to know she’d angered him. It was about time. It was not just her who’d lost reign of her emotions.

  “You know good and well, anything of that nature would ruin you and your sister’s chances for a good match. We will marry and I am sure we can come to an agreeable arrangement as to where we will live.”

  “We will either live here in London or in Berkhamsted...together. I refused to be tied down diapering and wiping the noses of your bothersome children while you play bachelor.”

  “What makes you think our children will be troublesome? Are you unsure of your parenting abilities?”

  “How can you ask that? If they are anything like you, I am sure they will be headstrong and annoying.”

  He stood and stalked to the fireplace. “This is not the conversation we should be having just weeks before marrying.”

  “Oh, pray tell me, My Lord, do we have a date? Do you plan to inform me or should I ask Rachel Witting, who no doubt is more informed.”

  William’s hands curled into fists and he let out a long breath. His gray eyes were dark with anger and, for an instant, Clara wondered if she’d gone too far.

  “Clara,” he started. “I have nothing to do with Rachel Witting, not any longer. I did two years ago. It was a mistake. She, however, is not above causing problems.”

  Clara stood. “Is she the reason you plan to leave and go to Berkhamsted? Tell me why were you with her yesterday? Or do you plan to tell me it didn’t happen?”

  For a moment, he paused and frowned. “I am not having an affair.”

  He had not answered her question. Not really. Clara stood.

  “I’m going home. It’s quite late.” Clara was astounded by how fast he was in front of her blocking any way to escape the room.

  “I don’t wish you to leave and still remain angry with me.” The deepness of his voice seemed to reach out and caress her. Clara hated that no matter how annoyed she was, he still managed to affect her so.

  She hitched her chin up. Somehow, she’d muddle through and put off the wedding long enough for her sisters to find husbands.

  “Our next social engagement is not until four days from now. Perhaps, we need the time apart to calm down. I find that I am too angry with you at this moment to be reasonable.”

  Once again, the muscle on his jaw bunched and released. “I will go to Berkhamsted then and return in time. I need time away to consider how to keep you safe from anything Mrs. Witting could have planned.”

  It was hard to keep from shoving past him. “She is but a widow searching for a lover. I’m sure I am the least of her concerns.”

  Chapter Ten

  “I am not sure I agree that you should leave town so unexpectedly, Clara,” her mother said as she frowned over breakfast the next day. “Although I’m sure my sister will be glad for the visit.”

  Clara waited without speaking. Molly, her personal maid, was already preparing for the trip. She’d dispatched the girl to see about the carriage and ensure they had what they needed for the overnight trip.

  “It’s only for two days. I want to visit and spend the night with Aunt Bettina and then return. I desperately need the change of scenery to clear my head.”

  Her father finally deemed it important enough to peer at her from over the papers he read. “Make sure you bring back some of her shortbread.”

  “Oh, Albert, do you honestly think there will be time for them to make shortbread?” her mother replied, chuckling. “Although I don’t doubt my sister will make it. She adores you.”

  Just over an hour later, Clara and Molly were ensconced in the carriage, the horses making quick work of taking them away from London.

  “I am so glad you and the new coachman, Jeffrey, have become fast friends. It allows us to go where we wish with no questions. He doesn’t know enough to ask,” Clara said and smiled when Molly blushed.

  “I am not sure if I’d exactly call us fast friends, Miss Clara. But he did agree to take us to Berkhamsted straightaway.”

  Clara peered out the window. “Thankfully, it’s but an hour away from where Aunt Bettina lives. We can see about Lord Torrington and then be on our way.”

  There was a bit of silence as Clara nibbled on her bottom lip. “Where were my sisters off to? It proved quite timely that they’d gone with the other carriage. However, I find it off-putting that I wasn’t involved in whatever plot Penelope has come up with.”

  “I believe it has to do with Mr. Yarnsby, Miss. Miss Vivian is not at all happy with the way he is running off suitors with his glares and such.”

  At recalling the man’s visit the night before, Clara smiled. “He is most extraordinary. The way he keeps his distance and yet seems to surround Vivian at all times. And yet, he refuses to court her. I find it very odd.”

  Molly shrugged as she was not in a position, nor would it be proper for her to give her opinion on someone like Mr. Yarnsby.

  When they arrived just outside Lark’s Song, William’s country estate, Clara instructed Jeff
rey to slow and come to a stop just outside the gates.

  The young man climbed down from his perch and rounded the carriage, giving her a quizzical look. However, he did not question her instructions and, within moments, took the carriage to a nearby cusp of trees to wait for her and Molly to return.

  On the ride to Berkhamsted, she’d donned a sturdy, gray gown and serviceable boots that would withstand a trek through muddy ground and foliage.

  “We’ll make quick work of arriving from the side of the house,” Clara explained to her maid. Already, her pulse was racing at the thought of what lay ahead.

  “Remain low to the ground and we must stay along the walls,” she instructed her maid.

  “Yes, Miss Clara,” Molly said, her face bright with excitement. “Shouldn’t you cover your hair?”

  “Oh, yes, thank you, Molly. I almost forgot.” She yanked a sleeping cap from her pocket and quickly shoved her hair into it.

  It wasn’t a long walk, so they had to take care to keep hidden. Clara and Molly crept along slowly until reaching the house.

  The only plan she had was to peer through the windows and see if Rachel Witting was about. If the hateful woman was there, Clara would then retreat back to the carriage and once back in London she’d do her best to avoid social obligations and William Torrington. There had to be a way to do it without harming her sisters.

  They finally arrived at a large set of windows. Unfortunately, they were much too high to look into. Clara scowled. She’d not considered that the bottom of the windows would be above their heads.

  “Crumpets, what can we do now?” she whispered to Molly. “We need something to stand on.”

  Molly looked around. “I’ll go around to the front and see if the windows there are lower.”

  Before she could take a step, Clara grabbed her hand and yanked her backward. “No. Someone, a servant or William, could spy you.”