For the moment, Griffin ignored her. Crossing the drawing room’s faded carpet, he moved to the sideboard, his goal the large crystal whiskey decanter.
Thanks to the open windows, the air smelled clean and fresh, despite the thin layer of dust that coated nearly every surface. For an instant, Griffin felt a sharp pang of longing for the tangy freshness of the open sea. How dreadfully he missed it!
It seemed like everything in this wreck of a house was covered with dirt and mold and dust.
He poured himself a full measure of whiskey and took a long swallow before turning to face Harriet. She had taken up a position near the unlit fireplace, with Elizabeth by her side.
Griffin had trouble hiding his admiration. He had never before seen a female who could match her for sheer bravado. Except perhaps Faith. It had taken tremendous courage to come here today and lay her rash proposal before him. Once again, he chided himself for his unsympathetic response.
But it appeared he had more pressing matters that needed attention. Griffin turned his most charming smile upon his sisters. Elizabeth’s eyes brightened with relief, and she responded immediately with a sweet grin. Harriet’s lips never moved. She looked over at him expectantly.
“Miss Linden wished to discuss her father’s will,” Griffin finally admitted.
“I knew it!” Harriet exclaimed. “That little schemer. I hope the hasty departure we witnessed meant you threw her out, Griffin. I feel certain she would do or say almost anything to get her own way. She was a dreadfully spoiled little girl who has grown into a totally indulged woman. I think it was wise of you to steer clear of her.”
Griffin took a moment to mull over his sister’s passionate words. Harriet’s dislike of Miss Linden was never in question, her earlier attitude had been very clear, yet she almost seemed repelled by her. Such strong emotion piqued his curiosity.
“Why do you dislike Miss Linden so much?”
Elizabeth gasped and turned a worried eye toward her older sister. “I think I shall speak with Cook about this evening’s supper. You know how she tends to overcook the beef if not diplomatically reminded to have care. If you will excuse me.”
Elizabeth was out the door like a shot.
Griffin’s attention was now totally engaged, as this strange situation grew more fascinating by the minute. “Now, what do you suppose could have made our little sister so uncomfortable? Any ideas, Harriet?”
She gave a most unladylike snort. “Elizabeth is a sensitive girl who dislikes confrontation of any kind. ’Tis better she left. Now we can speak freely.”
“I never intended to do otherwise,” Griffin replied smoothly.
The swift lift of Harriet’s right eyebrow told him she didn’t believe that for an instant. But she held her tongue. Harriet moved away from the fireplace and settled herself in a dusty, oversize chair.
Griffin took the chair opposite hers and leaned forward with his elbows propped on his thighs.
“I’m listening,” Harriet stated calmly.
Griffin could have sworn that Harriet’s mouth curved into the faintest hint of a smile.
“And I’m still waiting for an answer to my question,” Griffin explained, hoping to discover the source of his sister’s bitterness. “Why do you dislike Miss Linden?”
Harriet shifted in her chair. “I don’t precisely dislike Miss Linden. I do, however, mistrust her. Completely. She was engaged for many years to our brother, Neville, yet they never married.
“As far as I am concerned, Neville’s death severed the relationship she had with this family. I fear that Miss Linden will now attempt to impose herself upon us, utilizing her past association. Her coming here today to speak with you only confirms my suspicions.”
“Why did Neville and Miss Linden never marry?”
Harriet sighed. “I’m not quite sure. Lord knows, both Lord Aston and Father tried everything to make it happen.”
“Did Neville have any specific objections to Miss Linden or do you believe he was of a mind to avoid marriage altogether?” Griffin asked.
Harriet shrugged. “I have no idea. He never actually spoke out against her, not specifically, yet his actions certainly revealed his true feelings about the matter. If he wanted her for his wife, he would have married her. But he did not.”
Griffin rubbed his chin in contemplation. “Yet Father insisted?”
Harriet’s head bobbed up and down. “Oh, yes. Father insisted. Constantly and loudly. It was all they ever talked, or rather argued, about whenever Neville was home.” Her expression turned sour. “If Father would have only spent a mere fraction of his time and energy on the concerns of his other children, not to mention the financial well-being of the estate, we would not be in such dire circumstances today.”
“You blame Miss Linden for that?”
“I hold Miss Linden responsible for her share of this problem,” Harriet stated firmly.
“I see.” Griffin leaned back in his chair. In an odd way he felt relief, for her explanation told him more of what had occurred for the past few years. It shed light on the reason behind Harriet’s strong dislike of Miss Linden and also assured Griffin that his original assessment of his sister was correct.
She might be stubborn, forceful, and strong willed, but it was not in her nature to be so mean-spirited without justification. She was clearly convinced of the rightness of her position concerning Miss Linden. Griffin, however, was not as certain.
Harriet cleared her throat. “You have not told me specifically what Miss Linden said to you this afternoon.”
Griffin snorted. “Do I really need to say it?”
“That absurd will?”
“I take it you have also heard about the will that Miss Linden’s father left?”
Harriet visibly bristled. “Naturally. Half the town has heard of that ridiculous will.”
“I hadn’t.” Griffin leaned back in his chair. “And since it concerns me directly, I find it rather curious that I was not informed of it by my dear, sweet, loving sister.”
“Elizabeth would not have known how to approach such a delicate subject with you,” Harriet countered, lifting her chin and looking him straight in the eye. “Besides, the matter concerned the former viscount. Miss Linden was engaged to Neville, not you. Perhaps he has ruined her, but he is certainly not here to be held accountable.
“I know that men carry an inordinate amount of pride and arrogance and a vastly overinflated notion of honor. You might have succeeded the title from our eldest brother, but you are not responsible for his actions.”
Neville ruined Faith? A vivid picture appeared in his mind, of Neville and Faith locked in a passionate embrace. It made the normally unprudish Griffin decidedly uncomfortable. “Why do you say that she is ruined?”
Harriet gave him a look that said she thought him a dense child. “No one will have her for a wife now. And that ludicrous will her father left has sealed her fate. Without the financial riches of her estate, who would want her? She is neither young, nor pretty, nor biddable. Besides, Faith Linden will forever be known in this county as Neville’s unwanted fiancée. Most men are rather particular about taking the leavings of others, are they not?”
That notion startled him. Neville’s leavings? Just how far had his brother gone with his fiancée? Or rather, if Harriet’s interpretation of Miss Linden’s shallow character was correct, how far had Faith gone in her attempt to secure her position as the future Viscountess Dewhurst? Had she foolishly allowed herself to be compromised before her wedding vows were spoken?
Griffin slowly blew out his breath. If his sister meant to discourage his interest and concern for Miss Linden, she had severely misjudged him. Harriet’s words were having the opposite effect.
She cast him a sidelong glance. “Perhaps I should have warned you of the will. I apologize for my oversight. I suspected Miss Linden would attempt to contact you in an effort to gain your sympathy, but even I underestimated her audacity. Hopefully we can now put this unpleasan
t business behind us.”
Griffin gave his sister a noncommittal smile. This conversation had only served to reinforce the notion that he needed to speak to Faith directly and honestly about her relationship with his brother. But Griffin was certainly not foolish enough to let Harriet know of his intentions.
He had learned much about his siblings since his return, especially Harriet. She was a complex woman, often too somber, too mired in duty and appearance, too involved with always doing and saying the proper thing. There were times when he honestly felt she was simply too exhausting to be around.
Yet there was another side to the elder of his sisters. Harriet was also competent and caring and unfailingly devoted to the family, himself included. She had been loving and welcoming to his young son, holding her tongue despite the speculation in her eye when he introduced the boy.
Griffin believed that Harriet suspected the true circumstance of his child’s birth, but for once had kept her curiosity and questions to herself. He was grateful for her restraint and her unspoken show of support, realizing he would need all the allies he could muster when it became known that his child was indeed a bastard.
“Did Miss Linden say anything about young Neville?” Harriet inquired anxiously, as if somehow sensing his thoughts had turned to his child.
“No.” A cold numbness swept through Griffin’s body at the mention of his son’s name. “That nasty cold has kept him confined to the nursery since we arrived, with only his nursemaid, you, me, and Elizabeth for company. Apparently the servants haven’t yet had a chance to gossip to the village about him.”
Harriet nodded her head eagerly. “I believe you are correct. The fact that Miss Linden never mentioned him means she doesn’t know of his existence. I would not be at all surprised if she tried to appeal to your parental instincts when making her outrageous proposal and offering herself as a surrogate to your motherless son.”
“Another role she is ill-equipped to fill?” Griffin teased, unable to help himself. When it wasn’t directed toward him, Harriet’s indignation and anger could be most amusing.
“ ’Tis clearly impossible for such a self-indulgent woman to be a mother to a child born of her own body, let alone a stepchild.” Harriet rose to her feet, shaking the wrinkles out of her full skirt. “Trust me, Griffin, we are well rid of Miss Linden.”
The satisfactory smile on Harriet’s face told Griffin his sister considered the matter closed. He dared not refute her impression, but in his heart knew that he needed to speak with Faith directly. The sooner the better.
Faith had heard Griffin call her name. Even above the gusting wind and the pounding humiliation inside her head, his voice had rung true and clear. At the sound of those deep, male tones, panic had surged through her. The need to escape was real and intense.
Her leg muscles had tightened in alarm, but Faith willed her feet to move swiftly. She bowed her head low and forged into the wind, nearly breaking into a run when she heard her name a second time.
If he pursued her, she would have little chance of escape, yet she had to try. The humiliation of facing him again was just too impossible to bear.
Forsaking the meadow, she hastened onto the main road. For once, Faith decided it had been a blessing to encounter the nasty Harriet Sainthill. At this very moment, she was most likely filling her brother’s head with every unsavory detail of Faith’s character and thus unwittingly delaying his pursuit.
If she was very lucky, Harriet might give her just enough time to elude him.
Her mind worked as frantically as her feet, and almost against her will, Faith relived each small detail of their encounter. The handsome set of his jaw, his initial gruffness, the ensuing friendly attitude. For an instant he had almost seemed pleased to see her. Until he learned of the reason for her visit.
Faith’s cheeks grew hot. The encounter had renewed all her repressed longings—to someday be a wife, a mother, a woman who was valued, perhaps even loved. Such foolish dreams.
A clattering noise up ahead alerted Faith to the presence of an approaching carriage. Griffin? Her heart skipped a beat; then she berated herself for being so foolish. If he had a mind to chase after her, the viscount would surely be mounted on horseback.
Besides, the carriage was coming from the opposite direction. She moved to the edge of the road as it neared, but her pulse quickened when she recognized the blue-and-silver livery of the driver.
Crying out in relief, Faith surged forward. “Merry,” she whispered in an unsteady voice.
The coach drew alongside and stopped. The door swung open and Meredith nearly fell out in her haste to reach her distraught friend. An outrider jumped off the back of the coach to lend his assistance.
“Help Miss Hobbins out first,” Meredith instructed as the servant scurried to do her bidding. “She can ride up top next to the coachman. It’s a lovely day and not too chilly. I’m sure the fresh air will feel invigorating.”
Faith noticed the resentful stare and pulled expression of Miss Hobbins, Meredith’s elderly maid, as she stepped down from the cozy interior of the carriage, but was feeling too miserable to give it much thought.
It would be difficult enough having to tell Meredith the results of her meeting. Best to do so without an audience.
The door shut and Meredith signaled the driver to leave. With a grateful sigh Faith leaned back against the velvet squabs. Safe. She was truly safe.
As the carriage rumbled down the country road, Faith’s heart finally ceased its furious rhythm. She still felt light-headed and a bit dazed, but she was slowly regaining her equilibrium.
“Was it truly awful?” Meredith inquired in a gentle voice.
“ ’Twas dreadful,” Faith conceded, drawing a shuddering breath. “I acted like an imbecile, babbling on about Father’s will. The viscount had no idea what I was referring to, looking at me as if I’d sprouted three heads. When he finally realized what I was asking, he rejected me.”
“I’m surprised he knew nothing of the will,” Meredith remarked.
“If you are surprised, can you imagine how I felt?” Faith made an attempt at laughter, but only produced a hollow, brittle sound. “I made a perfect ninny of myself and for no good reason.”
“The viscount was not at all amenable to the idea of a marriage between you?” Meredith asked sympathetically.
“Amenable! He rejected me outright, in no uncertain terms.” Faith took a deep breath, trying to harness her distress. Rejection was never easy, but she had felt nearly trampled by the encounter. Utterly defeated, she studied the hands in her lap. “He was my last hope, Merry. What will become of me now?”
“You will survive,” Meredith stated in a firm voice. She grabbed Faith’s hands and squeezed them reassuringly. “Nay, you will not only survive, you shall flourish.”
Her words offered Faith little reassurance. Perhaps she would not be destitute once she lost Mayfair Manor to her odious cousin, but she would be bereft. Lacking a true home, a foundation, almost a sense of identity.
“Tell me exactly what occurred,” Meredith insisted.
Haltingly Faith complied, leaving out no sordid nor embarrassing detail.
“And then I fled down the hallway,” Faith explained. “At first I thought it might just be my imagination, but I clearly heard his footsteps behind me. Knowing he was in pursuit made me a bit crazed. I couldn’t bear to face him again, so I ran faster. I reached the front door just as his sisters, Harriet and Elizabeth, arrived home.”
Meredith let out a little squeak. “Oh, dear. What happened next?”
“I nearly bowled them over in my haste to escape.” Faith grimaced. “They were provided an excellent view of my final humiliating flight, which no doubt provided Harriet with great joy. Ever since we were children she has taken a keen disliking to me.”
Meredith frowned. “I fear ’tis me that Harriet dislikes more than you. We are the same age, and we had our first season together. I was certainly not a great success, but I fea
r that Harriet made an even more dismal impression upon society. And we can’t forget about that nasty business with her fiance, Julian Wingate. I don’t believe she has ever forgiven me, nor will she anytime soon.”
Faith frowned. “I had nearly forgotten about him. Didn’t he propose to you, years before he and Harriet became engaged?”
“Yes.” Meredith dragged in a long breath, then sighed deeply as she exhaled. “Julian was one of the more persistent suitors, swearing continually that he couldn’t live without me. He must have proposed a dozen times that season. Eventually I had to stop receiving him at home. Yet still he persisted. It became an exhausting task, trying to elude him at parties, though I do confess to getting rather good at it by the end of the season.”
Faith shook her head slowly, trying to imagine such an experience. “Didn’t you find it utterly romantic, having a handsome young man declare undying devotion?”
“Gracious, no!” Meredith angled a glare at her friend, then blushed prettily. “Such uncontrolled passion had me breaking out in hives. How could I possibly spend the rest of my life with a man who made bright red welts and a blotchy rash break out on my skin?”
“Oh, Merry.” Faith smiled, trying to picture the beautiful Meredith in such a state. “I daresay you would still look ravishingly beautiful covered in a red rash.”
“But think how it would itch.” Meredith tapped her fingers lightly on Faith’s arm. “Surely a gentleman cannot find anything attractive about a woman who is constantly scratching at her person.”
“Now, that would be a sight.” This time Faith broke out into a true laugh.
Meredith joined her. “There, I’ve managed to chase away your gloom,” she said triumphantly. “I cannot bear to see you so unhappy, Faith.”
“I thank you for the distraction. And for listening to me. I’m sure by this evening I’ll be back to my misery, but I do appreciate the respite.”
“Nonsense. You shall come to London with me,” Meredith suggested impulsively. “There is certainly no need to stay here and wallow in pity. A change of air and atmosphere will do you a world of good.”
To Wed A Viscount Page 5