Griffin, naturally, was completely unaffected by the contact. He gave her a brief, curt nod and turned toward Meredith. She silently accepted a matching bouquet.
“Your chaperon?” he questioned, holding the final cluster aloft.
“Aunt Agatha is taking her midafternoon nap,” Meredith replied. “She was unaware that we were expecting visitors today.”
The viscount’s shoulders shifted slightly as he cocked his head to one side. He glanced down at the flowers and then back at Meredith and Faith. The crux of his dilemma was clearly visible on his handsome features. Whom would he favor with the extra bouquet?
Lord Dewhurst swung his arm toward Meredith, and Faith’s breath caught in her throat. Her fingers curled around the stems of the roses she held, a gift that had moments before brought her such an unexpected burst of delight. Clenching the stems tight, she barely felt the prick of a thorn. It was far more important that Griffin not see her hands tremble when he once again looked her way. If he once again glanced at her.
“I suppose if your aunt is given the flowers she will then learn of my visit?” Lord Dewhurst questioned.
“It is not meant to be kept a secret from her,” Meredith answered truthfully.
“Splendid. Then kindly present her with these humble blossoms and convey my best regards when she awakes.”
“Thank you, my lord. That is most generous.” A visibly surprised Meredith accepted the flowers. “I’m sure Aunt Agatha will be delighted. It has been ages since anyone has gifted her with flowers, and roses have always been her favorite.”
He acknowledged Meredith’s remarks with a brief grin, then turned his head to Faith and favored her with a sly wink. She almost dropped her bouquet. Meredith, who had turned to ring for a servant to bring refreshments, did not see the gesture, making it seem all the more wicked.
Sternly ignoring the way he made her heart pound, Faith took a seat on his left and busied herself with arranging the skirt of her gown. When she felt composed enough to raise her head, she discovered Griffin and Meredith engaged in conversation. Her involvement was neither sought nor required, so Faith took a moment to more closely examine the viscount.
The elegant cut of his blue superfine coat bespoke of Weston’s talents, for it fit his broad shoulders most impressively. His white cravat was tied with a simple, uncomplicated knot, but the stark whiteness showcased the healthy glow of his skin. There were black Hessian boots, polished to a glossy shine and fit inside tan breeches that clearly defined the strong muscles of his thighs.
Yet despite all this elegant civility, it was his bearing and countenance that held her so enthralled. He was a man clearly in command of himself and those around him.
He turned his head to answer a question posed by Meredith, and Faith caught a view of his profile, all sharp edges and perfectly formed lines.
“Don’t you agree, Miss Linden?” a deep male voice inquired.
Startled out of her woolgathering, Faith lifted her chin. Their eyes met, and she saw the amusement dancing in those gray depths, as if he knew she hadn’t a clue to what had been asked.
“No, my lord, I’m afraid I don’t agree,” Faith replied boldly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of asking him to repeat his query. Besides, it was logical to assume she would take the opposite stand. There seemed to be very little that she and Griffin agreed on these days.
His eyebrow inched up in mock surprise. “How strange. I thought most women felt Prinny has been most unkind toward Princess Caroline.”
“All women are not the same,” Faith responded loftily, although she truly did believe the regent’s treatment of his poor wife was both scandalous and unnoble.
Yet she’d sooner start nibbling on her bouquet of roses than admit to the viscount that she hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation.
He stared at her for a brief moment, but let the matter drop. “If you have no objection, Lady Meredith, I would like to speak with Miss Linden alone.”
Faith bit her tongue to keep her gasp of surprise from escaping.
“That is for Faith to decide, not me,” Meredith responded. “Faith?”
She regarded the viscount warily. “I have no secrets from Meredith.”
“So I gathered. Still, I prefer that we speak privately.”
He ended his request with a smile that transformed his face from handsome to irresistible. Faith discovered it was nearly impossible to resist, though she struggled mightily.
“Perhaps it would be best,” Faith replied slowly. Who knew what he was going to say? Though Faith fully intended to relate every detail to her dearest friend, it might prove less embarrassing not to have an audience.
Also, Faith had not forgotten the way Griffin had stared at Meredith last night, as if he were a starving man sitting before a ladened banquet table. The memory was vaguely disquieting. At least if they were alone Faith would have his full attention.
“Very well. If Faith wishes it, then I shall leave the two of you alone. For a time.” Meredith walked toward the door, then paused to cast the viscount a cool smile. “I shall, however, stay close enough to hear any loud voices.”
“She is rather protective of you,” Griffin commented as the door closed. “Or is it just me she mistrusts?”
“Lady Meredith has a realistic opinion of men and is well acquainted with their limitations,” Faith replied primly.
“I daresay the right man would make her change her tune. Quickly.”
“Perchance, would that man be you, Lord Dewhurst?”
He gave her a long considering look that made her tremble deep inside. He seemed on the verge of saying something, thought better of it, then merely grinned. “No, I am definitely not the man for Lady Meredith.”
An odd sense of relief rushed through Faith. Instinctively, she knew it would be unbearable to see Griffin pursue Meredith. With his charm, grace, and good looks, he just might be the man who finally captured her heart.
Faith assumed a thoughtful expression. “I suspect you are curious about last evening,” she began, but she was interrupted by the arrival of two servants with the tea tray.
There was a great amount of fussing and shuffling as the footman and maid set up the tea service. Twice Faith found herself biting her lip in frustration. Now that the matter was at hand, she was eager to get this discussion with Griffin finished.
My heavens, would the servants never leave?
“Tea?” she offered, halfheartedly, when at last they were alone again.
“No, thank you,” he replied. “Perhaps later.”
Too tense to even consider pouring herself a cup of the tasty brew, Faith drew in a breath. “As I was saying—”
A sharp knock echoed through the room.
“Now what?” Faith exclaimed in annoyance, jumping up from her chair. She strode to the door and unceremoniously yanked it open. “Yes!” she snapped waspishly.
The startled young maid on the other side of the door nearly dropped the small pitcher she held.
“I f-forgot to bring the cream, miss,” she stammered. “I’m so sorry.”
Faith blew out a long, low breath. She took the pitcher from the maid’s trembling hands. “No, I am sorry for speaking so sharply. It was not intended toward you. Thank you for bringing the cream. ’Tis exactly what we needed.”
The maid gave her a grateful smile and a quick curtsy before leaving.
Faith placed the pitcher beside the silver teapot, then glanced helplessly at Griffin. She was almost afraid to open her mouth, certain that she would once again be interrupted.
“You were speaking of last night,” Griffin prompted, “although I confess after the initial surprise wore off, I did not give it serious contemplation. However, if you would care to enlighten me as to why you felt it necessary to conceal your true identity, I will gladly listen.”
Faith rubbed her chin. This was certainly a far different attitude than last night, when he had practically tried to bully her into an explan
ation.
“Due to the unpleasantness of my father’s will, I felt it might be wise to leave Mayfair Manor for a few days, so I journeyed to London with Meredith,” Faith stated calmly. “Meredith thought I might find it amusing to attend Lady Dillard’s musical evening, but since I am still in mourning, it was impossible for me to appear at any society function.
“Both Meredith and I felt it would harm no one by enacting the little charade of pretending to be Miss Maxwell, a distant cousin. Even Aunt Agatha saw no overt problems with the white lie, and we certainly never thought to encounter anyone who knew my true name.”
“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” Griffin said, his voice an odd mix of amusement and candor. “The rules of society can be rigid at times, at others they seem downright ridiculous.”
“Precisely.” Faith nodded her head eagerly.
“I for one am not known for my strict adherence to propriety.”
Faith lowered her chin to conceal her smile. “I suspected that might be the case.”
“However, there are certain rules that when broken can leave a woman in a most precarious position.”
Faith’s head snapped up. His voice was suddenly so somber and serious. “Whatever do you mean?”
“I am talking about indiscretion.” Griffin glanced briefly at his boots. “I’m hoping that you will speak candidly to me about your circumstances, however painful they might be.”
Faith wrinkled her brow. What in the world was he getting at? She searched his handsome features for guidance, but the viscount’s expressionless face revealed nothing. He must have seen her confusion, for he added softly, “I am referring, of course, to your relationship with my brother, Neville.”
“Oh.” Color flooded Faith’s cheeks. Remembering Neville and her nearly nonexistent relationship with her former fiance forced her to confront her deepest regrets. She wasn’t pretty enough, desirable enough, womanly enough to be a wife. His rejection of her, in front of the entire community that was her world, had ruined her, leaving her with little pride and almost no self-confidence.
“I would not use the word indiscretion to describe my relationship with your brother. It was more a case of naive stupidity.” Her voice dropped to a discouraged whisper. “And while it might be true that Neville has ruined me, I realize that I must accept the fact that I shall never marry, and therefore carry on with my life to the best of my abilities.”
She hadn’t meant to sound like such a martyr, but it almost couldn’t be helped. Speaking of Neville was always a painful reminder of her failures.
Faith caught the flicker of a smile on Griffin’s handsome face. It was somewhat surprising, considering the grave nature of their conversation. Perhaps it wasn’t really a smile, but rather a grimace.
Griffin breathed deeply, as the moment of reckoning was upon him. He had hoped she would refute his suspicions, deny any hint of impropriety. Yet deep in his heart, Griffin was not overly surprised. More and more he had begun to suspect that Neville might have abused his privileges as Faith’s fiance, for his brother had not been known for either his morality nor generosity of spirit.
’Tis settled, Griffin thought with grim determination. The matter that he had wondered and fretted over was now inevitable. Neville had ruined her, yet it was Griffin’s responsibility to set it all to rights. Just like this bloody title. Neither sought after nor welcomed, but assumed because there is no other recourse.
Griffin eyed Faith speculatively. She did not look like a woman who would elicit unbridled passion, but he had long ago learned never to be hasty when judging a female.
His mouth tightened. If he was going to spend the rest of his life sleeping and waking beside her, he might as well make certain of one more thing.
Griffin shifted swiftly from his large chair to join her on the cozy love seat. She seemed startled, but her expression did not alter until he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close.
Faith’s eyes widened and her lips parted with surprise just as he bent his head and kissed her. It was a full, deep kiss, filled with passion and mystery. He felt her hesitate and stiffen, yet she did not retreat.
Griffin backed off a hair’s breadth, letting her make the choice. He could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his own as she made her decision; then a smile of pure male satisfaction crossed his face as she arched up to once again meet his lips.
He kissed her again. Boldly, he caressed her lips, gliding along the tender flesh with his tongue. She opened her mouth to him and he pressed closer, tasting her fully, his questing tongue twirling seductively with hers.
It seemed like it had been a very long time since he had kissed a woman so completely. Griffin succumbed to his baser instincts and thoroughly indulged himself, repeatedly kissing Faith deeply, hungrily, until they were both nearly breathless.
She strained against him, and their kisses became more heated, more urgent. He felt his body draw up tight with pleasure. Her honest excitement stirred a restless yearning deep inside that both surprised and delighted him.
Faith’s kiss held back no hesitant passion, none of the shy ignorance one would expect from a virginal maid. She did not appear overly experienced, and he surmised her skill in arousing him so quickly was due less to her carnal knowledge and more to her naturally passionate nature.
Griffin moaned low in his throat. Faith reached up with one of her hands and cupped his face, as if she feared he would pull away. Her obvious need quickened his own desire with startling intensity.
He buried his fingers in her silky scalp, disturbing the tightly coiled chignon so thoroughly that her hair fell through his fingers and spilled down her back. It felt like warm silk.
His hand slid lower, cupping her breast fully. His palm seemed to burn as his fingers traced the surprising fullness. She moaned in a soft, low voice and pushed herself closer. Her hands reached out, sliding past his lapels and twined in his hair.
Griffin thought about lowering the bodice of her gown and covering her breasts with his hands, stroking her nipples until they stiffened. He fantasized about lifting her skirts and searching out her feminine secrets, pleasuring her with deep, slow strokes, bringing her to the very edge again and again until she was nearly mindless.
He doubted she would object. She did not appear frightened or surprised by his sexual advance. Indeed, his aggressiveness seemed to fuel her own passion. Heady thoughts, indeed.
With far more regret than he ever believed possible, Griffin pulled away from Faith. He took a deep breath, then a second, drawing inward to collect himself. The band of regret that had tightened his chest when he realized he must marry her started to ease.
It seemed an odd belief for a confirmed womanizer, but Griffin believed wholeheartedly in the institution of marriage. He had always promised himself that he would not marry a woman who overtly displeased or repelled him. He would marry a woman he could someday grow to love, and who could in turn love him.
The loveless matches of society held no interest for him. He wanted a life partner, someone to share both the good and difficult times. Someone he could respect, admire, and most importantly trust.
Faith Linden was nothing at all like a wife he would have chosen for himself. She was too unsophisticated, too plain in looks, manner, and dress, too opinionated at times for a woman, and she had an independent streak that bore close watching. Still, in his honest heart, Griffin knew he could do far worse. And it certainly would be no hardship marrying a woman who could kiss as she did.
“I think, Miss Linden, that considering all the circumstances, it would be prudent for us to marry.” He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing the loose strands that Faith had mussed back into place. “In fact, we should probably marry before we return to the country. I shall see about making special arrangements this afternoon.”
There was a loud gasp of shock. He turned to face her and saw a world of confusion, along with a strong glimmer of hope in the rich brown eyes that stared so
steadily back at him.
“Would you be so kind as to repeat your question, Lord Dewhurst?” she whispered.
“I want you to be my wife. Marry me, Faith.”
“Are you serious?” She was eyeing him with a most peculiar expression, almost as though she were hypnotized. “I do not understand. You made your feelings on the matter of a marriage between us quite clear when we spoke of this at your home. Why have you changed your mind?”
Gently catching her chin with the end of his finger, he tipped her face up to his. “ ’Tis the proper thing to do, Faith. Both our fathers wanted an alliance between the families. Why not honor their wishes?”
There was a slight hesitation. Griffin felt his face turn warm, thinking she was about to refuse him. After all these years and countless women, he had finally asked one to marry him. And it suddenly appeared as though she was about to decline. How utterly humiliating.
“Yes,” she finally said, her voice firm. “I shall be honored to marry you, Griffin.”
Six
Faith’s grin was so wide her jaw ached, but she could not seem to remove it. Married! She was to be married. To Griffin Sainthill, Viscount Dewhurst, the object of every girlhood fantasy she had ever had.
This union would not only bring her the man she had always secretly desired from afar, but their marriage would allow her to retain possession of Mayfair Manor, her girlhood home. Flustered, she grabbed a stray curl that hung on her shoulder and wound it around her fingers. Remembering how her tightly coiled hair had become loose brought a fresh smile to her swollen lips and a slight blush to her cheeks.
Griffin’s kisses had heated her blood and touched her soul. He had unleashed hungers she’d never even known she possessed, awakening a sensual, womanly side of herself that she was now eager to explore.
And now she would have that chance, because they were to be married. Dear Lord!
Faith forced herself to take a deep breath and attempted to compose her turbulent emotions. Yet it was nearly impossible, for her blood was practically singing with excitement. Knowing that this tall, handsome, solid man was going to be hers brought her happiness to an almost giddy level. It was a miracle.
To Wed A Viscount Page 8