The Viscount s Betrothal

by Louise Allen

  Considering that he knew all too well that he had been stalked and entrapped, and that she must know he knew, Adam wondered at her hypocrisy. All that stopped him retaliating was a chivalrous concern for Olivia, whom he knew had been merely a browbeaten pawn in her parents’ machinations. She would never dare to stand out against them, just as he knew, with a sinking heart, that, once married, his word would be law and she would never, ever, argue with him.

  What he wanted was a bride who would argue, with her elbows on the table, waving her cutlery for emphasis if need be. He wanted a wife who would tease him, would join in foolish whims with a twinkle in her eye and would come into his arms with—

  ‘A lady has called my lord.’ It was Dalrymple, his butler.

  ‘What?’ Adam stared, aware that he had not even heard him come in.

  ‘A lady, my lord. She declined to give me her name.’

  Adam felt both his eyebrows rise. It was not like Dalrymple to make such an elementary error of judgement. ‘Are you sure you mean a lady?’

  ‘Certainly, my lord. A most well-bred lady, if I might venture an opinion. With her maid in attendance.’

  So, not an ex-mistress hoping to presume on past favours, then. ‘Show her in, Dalrymple.’

  ‘In here, my lord? Into your study?’ The man looked scandalised.

  ‘Certainly in here.’ It would be just like Mrs Channing to discover she had forgotten her parasol and return unexpectedly, and he had no intention of being found entertaining strange ladies in his drawing room. The butler bowed stiffly and went out.

  ‘Madam,’ he announced frigidly, holding the door for her to enter, then left, shutting it behind him with a decided click. The lady was alone.

  Adam stared at his visitor for several seconds, half-convinced he was hallucinating. If it were not for her height, he would have thought he was looking at a complete stranger, an exquisitely dressed, elegantly coiffed young matron.

  Then she smiled, curving her wide, generous mouth. Freckles danced across her cheeks as they rounded with the smile and the cool grey eyes sparkled. ‘My lord.’

  ‘Decima.’ Adam was across the room and had caught her in his arms before he could think. She gave a little gasp, but did not resist him, and her face tipped trustingly up to his. ‘Oh, God. I thought I’d never find you again.’

  Her mouth was soft under his hard kiss, opening to him with an innocence that his previous embraces had still not taught to be knowing. It was that very innocence, the sweet scent of her, the way her palm fluttered against his cheek, that brought him to himself.

  ‘Decima,’ he said again, stepping back. ‘Forgive me, I was taken by surprise at seeing you. Please, will you not sit down.’ He gestured towards a chair, feeling hideously gauche, as formal now he had just been unforgivably free with her.

  ‘Thank you.’ She sank down gracefully and sat poised, watching him. She smiled suddenly, her nose wrinkling endearingly, and the elegant lady vanished to be replaced by the hoyden who groomed her own horses. ‘I was pleased to see you, too.’

  Adam tugged at the bell pull before sitting opposite her. His heart was beating like a drum. Nothing mattered except that she was there.

  ‘Refreshments,’ he said impatiently as the butler appeared. He wanted to be alone with her, talk to her, put her at her ease—put himself at his ease, if it came to that.

  ‘You look…’ He struggled for the right word. ‘You look incredible. I hardly recognised you.’ Oh, no, that was hardly the most tactful thing to have said!

  Decima produced the gurgle of laughter that never failed to make his heart stutter. ‘Better than when I was grooming horses, perhaps? Or perhaps better than my kitchen-maid look?’

  ‘Not better, just different.’ What was the matter with him? Normally he had the smooth tongue and the flattering touch of the accomplished rake. Decima reduced him to a gibbering idiot in seconds. ‘Have you forgiven me?’ Better get it over with. ‘I now know your brother’s name and who it was I fled from rather than meet before New Year.’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked at him, her head slightly tipped to one side like a curious robin. ‘How?’

  ‘I saw your portrait at Lady Brotherton’s.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said again, dropping her gaze to her clasped hands. ‘Hideous, is it not?’

  ‘I thought it was sad that no one seemed capable of seeing your true beauty,’ he said gently, and was rewarded by a glowing look from her grey eyes.

  ‘Thank you. You seem to see something that other people do not, which is kind of you.’

  ‘I am not kind,’ he retorted roughly. ‘Why have you come?’ Damn it, Adam, why not show a complete lack of finesse while you’re about it?

  ‘Ah. Now that is difficult.’ Her gaze dropped again and the colour mounted in her cheeks. ‘It was hard to come and speak to you like this, I don’t deny it. Especially after all the things I said about marriage and matchmakers.’

  Her colour was positively hectic now. With a visible effort she raised her eyes to his face and said, ‘You might not be…happy about what I have to say, but I think one should be…honest about…about love.’

  Love? She was telling him she loved him? ‘Decima.’ He reached out and took her hands in his. ‘Decima, I think you had better say what you mean.’

  ‘This is very difficult. Has Bates said anything to you?’

  ‘Bates? Go away,’ he snapped at Dalrymple, who opened the door, a tray of refreshments neatly balanced on one gloved hand.

  ‘Very good, my lord.’ The butler executed a smart turn and removed himself.

  ‘What the hell has Bates got to do with anything?’ She was going to tell him she had fallen passionately for Bates, that was it. His life could hardly be in more of a mess.

  ‘It is Pru. I think she is in love with him. But you know what he’s like—so taciturn. I thought if you could drop a hint, let him know where she was to be found—then, if he was interested in her, he might make contact.’

  ‘I see,’ Adam said flatly, sitting back in his chair. ‘So this is all about Bates and Pru. You would not have come to find me if it had not been for that. Just how serious is it?’

  He seemed to have flustered her. Good, Adam thought viciously, then hated himself.

  ‘Things apparently became quite…that is…I did worry at one point that she might be with child,’ Decima admitted, her high colour returning. ‘But fortunately not. But I have no idea if his affections are engaged, or simply his, er, physical reactions.’

  Well, good for Bates, Adam thought bitterly. To manage a seduction with a broken leg argued a determination and aplomb he had been unaware of. In fact, he doubted he could have accomplished it himself. And the old devil had the nerve to lecture me about propriety!

  ‘By all means let us put ourselves about to secure the happiness of others,’ he said, hating the sarcastic edge to his voice. Decima looked bemused at his tone. Of course, he thought, she has no idea what I feel for her. How could she? She thinks she has had a salutary experience with a rake, that is all. ‘Are you sure it would not be—let me be sure I have the words right—a piece of meddling?’

  ‘Yes, I am sure,’ Decima snapped back, her understandable anger at his tone finally overcoming her good manners. ‘Pru wants to find out what he feels for her, that is all. He can choose to ignore the information if he so wishes—she has far too much pride to pursue him.’

  She got to her feet in a swirl of skirts, so suddenly that he had to scramble to stand, too. ‘If you wish to have nothing to do with it, then I will go down to the mews and see him on the pretext of asking about Fox. You have absolutely no need to trouble yourself about the emotional well-being of your servants or mine, my lord. Good day to you.’

  ‘Decima.’ Adam managed to get between her and the door before she could swing it open and stalk out. ‘I beg your pardon. I was so taken aback at seeing you.’ Her eyebrows rose haughtily. ‘Yes, I know, that is no excuse. I feel guilty about how I behaved at my sister’s. I
feel worse about what I said in your hearing. And I wanted to find you and could not and that hurt.’

  ‘So you were sulking?’ she suggested sweetly.

  ‘I do not—’ He met her eyes, saw the wicked glint in them and smiled ruefully. ‘Probably,’ he admitted. Now they were so close, the urge to take her in his arms again was a tangible force, as though someone was pushing him towards her. He knew how her skin would taste, how her mouth would feel under his, how her long, lovely body would fit and slide against his. He wanted to make love to her until she screamed his name and begged him never to stop. He wanted all the things he could not have.

  ‘Shall we go down to the mews, or would you like some refreshments first?’

  ‘Oh, the mews, please. Have you brought Fox up to town with you?’ She shot him a slanting, sideways look as he opened the door for her. ‘Will you still agree to put him to my mare, now we have made up our quarrel?’

  ‘Have we been quarrelling?’

  ‘Just a little bit, I think. Margery, come along, we are going down to the mews with his lordship.’ The maid, a quiet girl who had been sitting on a hard chair in the hall, stood and helped Decima into her pelisse, then curtsied to Adam. ‘I thought it better not to bring Pru,’ she confided quietly. ‘Now, if you wait until we are close to Bates before you ask me my direction, that should do it.’

  Decima slipped her hand into the crook of Adam’s arm and let him guide her down the steps and along the pavement of Portman Square. Margery, borrowed from Lady Freshford, followed behind at a discreet distance like the well-trained attendant she was.

  The luxury of being close to Adam, of touching him, made her pulse race. She tried not think about his kiss, but all the strange new feelings she had been suppressing flooded back to swamp her body. Her breathing was short, heat seemed to run up and down her body and an intimate pulse of arousal beat distractingly.

  With him she felt different, strangely confident, able to show her real feelings whether they were shyness or anger. It was an intoxicating sensation, to be herself. And then she realised why he made her feel like this. With a dawning sense of wonder Decima turned her head to look at the strong profile of the man beside her. I love him.

  Bates had Fox tied up outside and was grooming him as they walked into the mews yard. He straightened up and stared for a long moment, then put down his brushes and limped towards her, tugging off his hat. ‘Good day to you, Miss Decima, ma’am.’

  ‘Good day to you, Bates! And how is your leg? Still troubling you, I see.’ It made things easier, having to focus on someone else, to think about managing this carefully for Pru’s sake. Anything rather than think about the implications of what she had just discovered about herself.

  ‘Getting better, I thank you, ma’am. I expect I’ll be a bit of a Hopping Giles all my days, but it could be worse.’

  ‘His lordship and I did not make too bad a job of it, then?’

  ‘No, ma’am, and I’m powerful sorry my language wasn’t all it might have been either.’ He glanced behind her as he spoke and Decima watched his expression stiffen as he saw who was accompanying her. He had been expecting to see Pru and was disconcerted that she was not there. Good.

  ‘It was very educational, Bates,’ she said lightly, stepping past him to stroke Fox. ‘How’s my favourite boy, then?’ The stallion rewarded her with a gentle butt with his nose. Decima turned back to Adam. ‘We really must make arrangements for putting him to my mare, my lord. I will be staying in town for the Season and I will be in touch before I go back to Norfolk.’

  She delved in her reticule and then produced a realistic smile of realisation. ‘Of course, I have no card with my London address. I am staying with Lady Freshford in Green Street. Number Eleven. Green Street.’

  Adam turned as though to escort her out of the mews. ‘And is Miss Prudence with you? I trust she recovered from her illness.’

  ‘Oh, yes. She is with me. She seemed a little cast down—the after-effects of the fever, I expect—so I thought the change of scene would do her good. Goodbye, Bates. I do hope your leg continues to improve.’

  Adam took her arm and began to guide her back out of the yard. ‘Let me take you back to the house and Dalrymple will call you a hackney.’

  Decima said little on their way back other than to whisper, ‘That should have done the trick. If he does nothing now, at least Pru knows where she stands.’ But what of her? Would Adam make the slightest push to see her again?

  As they neared the front steps Decima saw that a barouche had drawn up and the footman was just helping down an exquisite blonde lady. She started slightly when she saw them, and stood waiting, a look of somewhat nervous anticipation on her face.

  ‘What a beautiful young woman,’ Decima murmured. ‘She is like a little fairy.’

  ‘Exquisite,’ Adam rejoined. Curious, Decima glanced at him; he had sounded almost sardonic.

  Then she saw the lady more clearly. ‘But I know her, surely!’ She let go of Adam’s arm and hurried forward. ‘Olivia? Miss Channing, I should say. I am sure you do not remember me, but I stayed for several Seasons with your cousins, the Brothertons.’

  The blue eyes widened with recognition and the apprehensive half smile was replaced by a genuine look of pleasure. ‘But of course I remember you—Dessy Ross, isn’t it? You were so kind to me, even though I was still in the schoolroom. You used to help me with my French recitation when I found it so hard.’

  ‘You are most certainly out of the schoolroom now,’ Decima observed admiringly. ‘I almost did not recognise you.’ Olivia blushed and demurred and Decima remembered her manners. ‘Forgive me, I should perhaps introduce you to Viscount Weston. My lord…’

  ‘That is quite all right.’ Adam stepped forward and took Olivia’s little kid-gloved hand in his. ‘I already know Miss Channing. We are betrothed.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  F or a moment Decima felt as though she had received a blow to the stomach. All the air had left her lungs and words froze on her lips. She stared at Olivia as the realisation sank in.

  Of course Adam was betrothed to her—one only had to look at her to see why. Fragile, petite, ethereally blonde, with a rosebud mouth and a complexion like a white peach. Even when she blushed, as she was doing now, her skin simply flushed a delicate pink with not a blotch in sight. She was the perfect eligible bride. And, if he had set out to find a woman who looked the opposite of Decima, he could not have found better.

  Her voice came back and with it her pride, stiffening her backbone and putting a smile on her lips. ‘Congratulations, my lord! And Olivia, I am so happy for you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Adam said gravely. ‘Olivia, is something amiss that you are back so soon?’

  ‘Oh, only that Mama left her library book—she must have put it down on the table in the drawing room.’ Oddly she looked somewhat nervous at the admission.

  ‘Then I must not keep you standing here talking,’ Decima observed briskly. ‘Good day, my lord, thank you for your assistance with that little matter. Goodbye, Olivia, it is delightful to have met you again. Come along, Margery.’

  The distance from Portman Square to Green Street was far enough for her to regret not taking a hackney carriage—not for the walking involved, but because she was forced to keep a pleasant countenance and not display any of the emotions that were threatening to swamp her.

  She dismissed Margery as they reached the hall of the Freshfords’ house and turned to run upstairs to her bedchamber.

  ‘Decima.’ It was Henry, emerging from the drawing room. ‘Did you find Weston at home?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said tightly. ‘He was at home.’

  ‘What is wrong?’ Henry came to the foot of the stairs and looked up at her in concern. ‘Decima, what has upset you?’

  And suddenly she was angry, seething with a blistering hot anger that she had never felt in her life before. ‘Is your mama here?’

  ‘No.’ Henry looked surprised. ‘She’s just gone ou
t. Why?’

  ‘Because I want to lose my temper, and probably throw things and shout.’

  ‘Be my guest.’ He gestured towards the drawing room and followed her in. ‘I’ve never seen you lose your temper.’

  ‘I do not think I ever have. I felt so many bad things sometimes that, if I had lost it, I would probably have said the most unforgivable, horrible words and made it even worse. I have always been meek and quiet and swallowed it all up. But Henry, Adam kissed me.’

  ‘Um, you’re losing me here.’ Henry frowned. ‘I thought he had kissed you before and you liked it, and you were wondering if you were in love with him. Do you mean he violently assaulted you? Because if that’s the case, I’m going straight round there—’

  ‘No! I liked it, and I am in love with him, I realised it today. But when we came back from the mews and seeing Bates, there was Olivia Channing, who I used to know when she was still in the schoolroom. And Henry, he’s going to marry her.’ The rising temper caught up with her and she choked, ‘He kissed me today and he is betrothed! He didn’t say anything about Olivia—does he think I’m so desperate that he can kiss me and I’ll be grateful?’ She wrenched off her gloves, splitting a seam, and hurled them at a flower arrangement. They missed it by a foot.

  ‘You are a man—tell me what he’s thinking. That he can make me his mistress? I would be a laughable contrast with Olivia, that’s for sure. Or probably he just finds it amusing that I let him kiss me.’ She took a rapid turn round the room, causing Henry to step back abruptly.

  ‘I might be a man,’ he protested, ‘but I certainly cannot understand or condone that behaviour. Goodness knows what he thought he was about.’

  ‘Of course he wasn’t thinking of making me his mistress,’ Decima muttered, tugging at her pelisse buttons and breaking a nail in the process. ‘That is a stupid idea.’

  ‘He would know better than to think you would even consider it,’ Henry said stoutly.