To Wed A Viscount

by Adrienne Basso

  At first Georgie thought that was a wonderful idea. But he had great difficulty moving the oars as they became quickly caught in the tall grass. After several minutes even Faith conceded that it wasn’t much fun.

  “There, I did my practicing.” The child climbed out of the boat and picked up the leading rope tied at the front of the vessel. “Now we can put the big boat in the water.”

  Faith eyed the thick rope with speculation. She had no intention of allowing the child to row across the small pond. It was far too dangerous. They were in a secluded section of the estate, in an area seldom traveled by anyone. There would be no one near to offer assistance if they got into trouble, no one in range to hear their cries of distress.

  But perhaps there was a way for Georgie to have a bit of adventure on the high seas. If she stayed on shore, holding tightly to the rope, the boat could drift out a few feet from the bank. She knew the boy would be unable to row more than a stroke or two. When he became tired, or lost an oar, she could gently pull the boat back to land.

  It might not be the excitement Georgie craved, but ’twas more fun than sitting in the grass, pretending to be on the water.

  Pleased with the plan, Faith climbed slowly out of the boat, nearly missing her footing as she landed.

  “All set, Captain.” She gave Georgie a sharp salute that he returned nattily. “Let’s put the ship in the water.”

  Dutifully, the child stood beside her. Faith rubbed her hands together, smiling when Georgie imitated her actions. Leaning low, she pushed on the boat. Her feet slipped in the muddy ground and she nearly fell.

  Georgie giggled. Faith smiled and tried again. This time she was able to move the boat a few inches. Every muscle in her back screamed with protest at the unaccustomed strain, but she had promised the child. If it took all morning, which it just might, she would get this darn boat into the water.

  By the fourth push Faith had managed to dislodge the craft from its sandy bed. There was a slight downward slope that aided the motion of the craft, and the wet ground and slippery grass provided the necessary lubrication.

  She was panting and sweating, but with a final shove and a loud umph, Faith at last succeeded in getting the boat in the water.

  “Hooray!” Georgie jumped up and down with delight as the small craft bobbed drunkenly.

  “Careful,” Faith called out anxiously, as the child scrambled to get into the boat. “Try not to get your shoes wet.”

  “You sit here,” Georgie decided, patting the space on the seat beside him. “I’ll do the rowing.”

  Faith picked up the end of the rope and wound it carefully around her arm several times. She yanked it hard, testing its security.

  When she raised her head, Georgie smiled at her and again patted the seat. It touched her heart to be given such a place of honor. At least one male member of the family was anxious to have her near him.

  Faith shook her head. “I’ll stay here on shore while you do the rowing. Then I’ll pull you back, real fast.” She held up the rope to demonstrate, giving it a sharp tug. The boat obediently moved toward her.

  Georgie shrieked with delight and gripped the sides of the boat. When the boat steadied, he enthusiastically picked up the oars. Face frowning with concentration, the little boy maneuvered the oars into the shallow water and tried to execute a stroke.

  Faith was watching him closely, but the distant sound of thundering hooves caught her notice. She lifted her arm to shield her eyes from the sun and anxiously scanned the horizon.

  In the distance, galloping along the top of the hill, were two riders. Suddenly, they made a swift turn and changed direction. Faith realized with a startled jolt that she and Georgie had been seen, for the riders were heading straight toward them.

  As they drew near, Faith could see that one of the horsemen was her husband. He sat tall and commanding on a handsome black mare, slightly ahead of the other rider, who sat stiffly upright on a fine gray gelding.

  The second rider was smaller in stature, and as they traversed the hill Faith noted one more important detail. This rider rode sidesaddle. Harriet. Faith’s heart plummeted.

  She quickly began pulling on the boat, bringing Georgie to the shore. But the child had finally mastered the art of rowing, in his own way, and worked against her efforts with jabbing, choppy strokes. The splashing water soon had the front of her gown rather damp and Georgie’s hair soaked.

  “What the devil are the two of you doing out here?” Griffin demanded to know, edging his mount closer.

  “Enjoying the morning sunshine,” Faith replied with a forced smile. “ ’Tis a lovely day.”

  “Why is the child sitting in that rickety old boat?” Harriet asked as she joined her brother. Her eyes suddenly widened in horror. “Don’t say he is going to row it across the pond?”

  “Certainly not,” Faith contested. She tilted her chin in hopes of looking more in control of the situation. “Georgie merely wanted to sit inside the rowboat. I saw no harm, since it is safely at the shore, and I have a firm grip on the rope.”

  Faith lifted her arm to give credence to her story, yet the pinched expression of dismay on Harriet’s face revealed what the other woman clearly thought of the plan.

  “We can all go for a ride!” Georgie exclaimed. “There is room in my boat for you, Papa, and Aunt Harriet, too.”

  “Perhaps another time. Please get out of the boat, son.”

  The little boy’s crestfallen face cut straight to Faith’s heart. She stepped forward to help him out of the craft and whispered, “Chin up, Georgie. We shall have another adventure out here tomorrow. I promise.”

  He gave her a brave, watery smile.

  “Goodness, what has happened to his clothes?” Harriet asked. “They are so wet and dirty. He looks like a common village urchin.”

  Faith took immediate exception to her tone and words. “He looks like a happy, healthy little boy who has been playing hard and having fun. Though I suppose that is a rather foreign notion to you, dear sister. Fun.”

  Harriet drew herself tall in the saddle and glared down at Faith. “I would expect that only a woman who has been petted, spoiled, and indulged all her life would not understand even the basic elements of responsibilities. Life, dear sister, is not always about having fun.”

  Faith didn’t dignify that with a response, and Harriet continued in the same scolding tone.

  “The child must learn, even at this young age, what is proper behavior for a nobleman. Unruly, ramshackle little boys grow into unmanageable, incorrigible men. It would be intolerable if such a thing happened to this child.”

  “He is none of those things!” Faith put her arms protectively around Georgie’s shoulders. “Say what you will about me, Harriet, but I’ll not have you criticizing the boy,” she said in a low, forceful tone, defending the child with all the fervor of a lioness with a threatened cub.

  “I am not finding fault with my nephew. The child is blameless in this incident. ’Tis the adult who is responsible, or rather irresponsible, in this matter.”

  Faith’s back stiffened. She opened her mouth to deliver a most blistering retort, then caught a glimpse of Georgie’s open face. Though not understanding the nuances of the discussion, it was obvious to the child that she and Harriet were quarreling. And Faith saw that upset him.

  She put her hand to her temple to still the thumping in her head. “Papa is right. We’ve had enough adventuring for one day. Come along Georgie; ’tis time to go home.”

  “You cannot expect the child to walk back in wet clothes,” Harriet bristled. “He’ll catch a chill.”

  “ ’Tis a warm day, and the sun will dry him quickly,” Faith insisted, not bothering to point out that she was probably as wet, if not wetter, than the child. “The walk will be good for him.”

  “It will not.”

  Faith raised her eyes to Griffin, silently seeking his assistance, and noted that Harriet had also turned to her brother with an expectant expression. The vis
count suddenly busied himself with the reins of his mount, concentrating on keeping the horse steady. Faith grimaced, realizing he was expending far more energy on this simple task than was necessary.

  “Fine. He shall ride home.” Faith picked up the child and moved beside Griffin’s horse.

  “No, he will ride with me.” Harriet nudged the gray in front of her brother’s horse. “Griffin has estate business to attend to. I must take Georgie to the nursery and remove his wet clothes immediately. Then a hot bath and right to bed for a rest. It will be a miracle if he doesn’t have a horrible cold by nightfall.”

  The leather saddle groaned as Harriet adjusted her seat. “Griffin, please hoist him up here.”

  With a skeptical eye, the viscount dismounted, then lifted the child onto the horse. Faith kept her chin lowered to hide the growing anger in her eyes. Seeing that would only let Harriet know her actions were succeeding in upsetting Faith.

  “I want to ride with Papa,” Georgie declared solemnly.

  “Papa has tenants to visit,” Harriet replied. “He is not returning to the house immediately. I am.”

  “Oh.” The child bowed his head low.

  “You look most regal sitting upon that horse, Master Georgie,” Faith said. “I think soon you will be ready for your own mount.”

  The boy nodded solemnly. It was far from the enthusiastic response Faith was hoping to achieve.

  “I shall need help guiding my horse back to the stables.” Harriet tugged on the cuff of her riding glove. “Would you like to hold the reins and assist me, Georgie?”

  Georgie’s chin was up like a shot. “Yes!”

  “Yes, what,” Harriet and Faith said simultaneously. Georgie’s eyes widened. He glanced first at Faith, then turned his head and looked at Harriet. Then he giggled. “Yes, please.”

  “We’re off.” Harriet touched the brim of her hat with her riding crop in a quick salute. “I’ll see you both at dinner.”

  “ ’Bye.” Georgie waved merrily with his free hand.

  Faith wagged her fingers in reply.

  “Irrational, headstrong woman,” Griffin muttered under his breath as the horse galloped away.

  Faith shifted her attention to her husband. “Perhaps in time Harriet might learn to control some of those more annoying tendencies,” she said primly. “One can only hope.”

  “I was referring to you.”

  “Oh.” Faith kicked a small stone with the toe of her slipper and walked to the pond. She bent low and retrieved Georgie’s toy, gently smoothing the cloth sails.

  “You were going to take him out in that rowboat, weren’t you?”

  Faith sighed. “I was going to allow him to sit in the boat while it rested at the very edge of the pond. He was determined to row it himself, and I knew he could never get more than a foot or two away from the shore. The rope tied to the end of the boat was new and sturdy. I wrapped it several times around my arm to secure it. There was never any danger.”

  “Harriet didn’t seem to agree on that point.”

  Faith rolled her eyes expressively. “Harriet would not agree with me if I said the sky was blue and the grass green.”

  Griffin surprised Faith by laughing. “Yes, I believe Harriet would insist the opposite were true.” He studied Faith for a long time. “I know she can be difficult, but you really must determine a way to somehow get along with her.”

  Faith’s chin rose. “Strange, I would think that Harriet needed to devise a way to stay in my good graces. After all, this is my home.”

  “She is my sister,” Griffin replied simply, glancing away.

  “How well I know that,” Faith muttered beneath her breath, needing no further reminders of where Griffin’s loyalties lay. Certainly not with his wife.

  The silence between them grew, pressing down upon them. The lead on Griffin’s horse allowed the creature to amble forward and take a drink from the pond. The viscount followed behind the black mare and waited. Faith listened to the quiet lapping for several moments, then finally turned to face her husband.

  The afternoon sunlight illuminated the left side of his face, highlighting his strong, handsome profile. As always, his male beauty took her breath away. Secretly, she longed to reach out and touch his cheek, run her fingers along the strong line of his jaw. But she did not dare.

  The physical, as well as emotional distance between them was clearly defined.

  “It would make life easier for everyone in the household, including yourself, if you and Harriet would get along,” Griffin stated firmly. “I fear that soon this verbal sparring will reach a physical level, and I shall find myself in the unenviable position of pulling you apart like two brawling kittens.”

  “What a lovely picture you envision, my lord.”

  “Not far from the truth, I fear.” He turned, and she stared at his face, noting the tightening of the muscles around his mouth. “I’m serious, Faith. You quarrel over everything to do with the boy. I cannot split the child in half.”

  “I know full well which end I would receive if you could.” Faith glared at him. “ ’Twould not be the part that I kiss good night each evening.”

  “Am I truly so unfair?”

  “Yes.” Yet even as she spoke the word, Faith knew it was not entirely true. Griffin had on the rare occasion taken her side in the argument. “If one were keeping a tally, then Harriet would have far more marks than I.”

  He drew in a deep breath, then released it. “Perhaps if you made this less of a competition, the final outcome would not be of such great significance.”

  “Harriet and I do not just disagree on the small matters when it comes to Georgie,” Faith retorted. “We have a fundamental difference of opinion on how the boy should be raised. Harriet seems convinced that my ideas are a haphazard way to bring up a child. And I cannot abide the rigid routine that she insists upon.

  “He is a little boy, not a soldier in Wellington’s army. She has ordered his life so completely there are times when I believe she has even scheduled the times when he is to go to the privy.”

  Griffin laughed and shook his head. Encouraged, Faith continued. “Georgie cannot have two different women responsible for his welfare. And while I appreciate Harriet’s position in the household, she is still his aunt. I, on the other hand, am his mother.”

  “His stepmother,” Griffin corrected solemnly. “What becomes of the boy if our marriage fails? If you return to live at Mayfair Manor, who will then be the woman responsible for his welfare?”

  It was a reasonable question. They had been married only a week and were holding most precariously to a relationship that was filled with hurt and mistrust.

  But Faith was not about to give up. How could she possibly explain to Griffin how much this small child had come to mean to her? Georgie gave her purpose in this rambling castle that was so unwelcoming to a bride and a new mistress.

  He ended the desolation she felt, filled up her barren days, challenging her to reach out to life and grab it, instead of letting it merely slip away. She would fight with every ounce of strength to hold on to this special relationship.

  Faith made an effort to banish the hurt that Griffin’s doubts had brought to her eyes. “I am not prepared to give up so quickly on our future life together, Griffin. Perhaps Georgie will provide the means for us to stay together.”

  The viscount raised his brow skeptically. “ ’Tis a great burden to place on such a young child.”

  Faith smiled brightly, trying not to focus on how dispirited he sounded. “You are forgetting one very important fact, my lord. Georgie is no ordinary boy. He is his father’s son.”

  Twelve

  Being an early riser, Griffin usually ate his morning meal alone. He preferred to dine in the informal breakfast room, for it was one of the few rooms within the house that was in need of little repair. The cherry-wood furniture was always polished to a high gloss; the patterned wallpaper of flowers and fruit was still bright and cheerful.

  There we
re no water stains marring the ceiling plasterwork and the sheer white draperies were neither torn nor musty smelling. Though he had few memories of his mother, Griffin distinctly remembered that this was one of her favorite rooms.

  Over the course of his weeks in residence, he decided that he was glad no one had bothered to redecorate it, for it provided a fond link to his past.

  He hurried in to eat his breakfast in his usual morning rush, but pulled up short when he discovered the room already occupied. Both his wife and sister were seated at the table, each silently contemplating the contents of their plates.

  “Faith, Harriet, good morning.”

  “Good morning, Griffin,” they chorused like a pair of obedient schoolgirls.

  The viscount raised his brow cynically and took his seat, trying all the while to disregard the presence of the two females. He braced himself, waiting with dread for the venomous looks to begin, the veiled accusations and heated jibes to be flung between the two women.

  Griffin’s manner grew guarded as he tried to think of a neutral topic of conversation to introduce. And then he realized, with a good deal of amazement, that the room remained quiet, save for the clinking of silverware and the gentle rustle of linen napkins.

  It was probably the first time in his four-week-old marriage that he had been in a room with his wife and sister and they were not quarreling. Or bickering. Or complaining to him about each other.

  For a minute Griffin was completely mystified. He nearly opened his mouth to comment upon this rather favorable turn of events, then thought better of it. Why tug on the lion’s tail when he was sleeping?

  A servant appeared before he could call for one.

  “Would you care for your usual breakfast this morning, my lord?”

  “Yes, and bring another pot of hot coffee.”

  “I have more than enough to share,” Faith said. She lifted the silver coffeepot set by her side and poured the hot, dark liquid into a clean cup.

  “I’m having chocolate this morning,” Harriet explained when Faith rose from her chair and carried the steaming cup to Griffin. “Would you care for a cup of that next?”