For the Love of the Viscount (The Noble Hearts Series Book 1)

by Callie Hutton

  “Thank you.” She took a seat in front of his desk.

  As was his habit, he rose and strolled around the desk, resting his hip on the edge, swinging his foot. “I have good news for you.”

  She viewed him with raised eyebrows. “What, Papa?”

  “We are getting close to signing marriage contract papers with Lord Blackwell.” He beamed at her as if he’d just offered her the greatest of gifts.

  ***

  Simon jumped from his horse and left the animal with the stable master at the mews behind Elise’s townhouse. He’d learned that tonight she was holding another of her intellectual gatherings. It had been five days since he’d left her bedroom.

  Five long days. Followed by five long nights. He missed her terribly. She was constantly on his mind. So many times he wanted to give in and agree to an affair, just to have her in his arms again. But then he pulled back. He wanted her for always, for his wife, for the mother of his children. If he were to give in once, he would never be able to hold firm to his decision for them to wed.

  He’d purposely stayed away from the ton events he thought she would be attending, and eschewed rides in the park so as not to run into her. However, once he discovered her gathering this evening, he could not stay away. But at least with other people in such a small setting, he would be refrained from dragging her into another room and having his way with her.

  The man at the door nodded and directed him to the drawing room from where voices rose. It took him only a second to spot Elise. She stood speaking with a group of guests, but her usual sparkle was missing. She seemed to be doing more nodding than arm waving and speaking. A man in her group noticed him and said something to Elise.

  She turned and he caught his breath. She looked terrible.

  She was pale, and he swore she’d lost weight in the five days since he’d seen her last. Her eyes grew wide and she hurried over to him. “I need to speak with you.”

  “I am here.”

  “No. In private. Something has happened, and I need your help. I tried to send a note, but there was no one I trusted not to tell Papa.”

  “Where can we go?”

  She shook her head. “Not now. It must be after everyone leaves.”

  He took her ice-cold hand. “Calm down, Elise. All will be well. Whatever it is, we can take care of it together.”

  Nodding briskly, she took his arm and walked him to the group she had just left. Why everyone else didn’t notice her unease surprised him. Or perhaps he knew her so well? He attempted to focus on the conversation, but he was so taken with Elise’s demeanor that not much of what he heard made sense.

  It was way too soon for her to know if she was with child. What else could possibly have her in this state? Besides her cold fingers, she tended to lose track of what she was saying. She picked at her gown and kept shifting her feet. A scatter-brained Elise was quite surprising. Eventually the footmen arrived with a light repast that Elise did not eat, but she drank three cups of tea. Had he access to brandy, he would have dropped a bit into her cup.

  Once the last guest had departed, she took his hand and dragged him into the library, closing the door. “I am in big trouble.”

  His first thought was her father had discovered what they’d done, but then realized the man would have been at his front door with a pistol had that been the case. “What is it?”

  Elise began to pace, wringing her hands. “Papa told me the day after we—” She stopped and took a deep breath.

  “Go on.”

  “Yes. Anyway, that very next morning he called me into his study to tell me he and Lord Blackwell were close to signing marriage papers.”

  Simon felt as though his entire world had just been yanked out from under him. Marriage contracts? He stared at her, his thoughts numb.

  After the shock wore off, anger tightened his stomach muscles. Elise was his. He’d already claimed her. “You can’t marry Blackwell. You’re going to marry me.”

  She threw her hands up. “No one listens. I am not going to marry anyone.”

  He placed his hands on her shoulders. “Hear me, Elise. It appears you have two choices. Either marry Blackwell or marry me. Since you are no longer a virgin, the decision is already made.”

  She yanked herself away from his grip. “No. The decision has not been made.”

  Simon pointed to a chair near the fireplace. “Sit.”

  Elise opened her mouth to object, but something in his face must have changed her mind, and she took the seat. He strode across the room and poured them both a brandy. He handed one to her. “Drink.”

  “I am not a dog, you know.” She downed the brandy, then spent a full minute coughing and wiping watery eyes.

  Simon sat alongside her. “Do you want to marry Blackwell?”

  “No. But I have an idea.”

  He cringed. Elise’s ideas were not always the most thought out. “What?”

  “Why don’t you approach Papa and tell him you are considering making me an offer. Then he will hold off Blackwell until the end of the Season. By then Blackwell will probably lose interest.”

  Simon stared at her for a minute, not believing what he’d just heard. “Let me get this straight. You want me to tell your father that I am considering making an offer for you, when I have, in fact, already proposed to you and you refused. Then we will all act as though everything is perfectly normal and this will keep Blackwell away?”

  She nodded, apparently quite pleased with herself. “Yes.”

  He dragged her into his arms and did what he’d been obsessed with the past five days. His lips covered hers, demanding, taking, possessing. Her enthusiasm, no longer so innocent, sent his senses reeling. Had he locked the door when they’d entered, he would strip her down and have a repeat performance of their last time together.

  Their hands were everywhere, but soon he realized that the door was not locked, and, as much as he’d like to be caught with her in his arms, that most likely would not go well with Elise. He drew back, both of them panting.

  “You must find another solution, sweetheart. If I ask your father to consider an offer from me, it will be real, not a ruse. I’m finished with pretending.”

  Pulling himself together, he stood and straightened his jacket. Bending down, he kissed the top of her head and left the house. The fresh air felt good on his heated skin. What a conundrum this had become. Nevertheless, of one thing he was certain.

  Lady Elise Smith would marry no one but him.

  Chapter Eight

  Elise twirled around the dance floor with Lord Blackwell. Her hands were damp under her gloves, and her stomach tightened with nerves. She had decided to do what had to be done to discourage the man. Once he and her father signed marriage contracts she would be doomed. Truth be known, if her plan did not work and she were forced to marry anyone, it would be Simon.

  Of course, he would have to do a much better job of proposing. Duty and responsibility, indeed! No woman wanted to someone’s penance. If she could get out of marriage altogether, that would be perfect. Unless Simon was truly her knight in shining armor and found it in his heart to offer a proposal that would literally sweep her off her feet.

  The music came to an end and Elise took a deep breath. “My lord, would you be so kind as to escort me to the gardens? There is a matter I wish to discuss with you.”

  “Of course.” He took her elbow and wended their way through the crowd to the French doors leading to the patio.

  Once they were outside, she took his arm and they stepped onto the path surrounding the flowers. They’d walked for about five minutes when Elise pulled Blackwell toward a stone bench under an oak tree.

  Once seated, she turned to him, twisting her hands in her lap. “I am most sorry to have to say this, but I cannot marry you, my lord.”

  His eyebrows rose in a quizzical twist, and she continued. “Papa told me you were in the process of negotiating marriage contracts.”

  “Is that what he told you?” Lord
, Blackwell actually seemed surprised. Was he so old that his memory was fading?

  “Yes. I know he probably should have not said anything to me until you spoke with me first, but he did, and now I must tell you.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I cannot marry you. I am so sorry.”

  Blackwell almost looked as if he was holding in laughter. Did he not take her seriously? She raised her chin. “There is a very serious reason why I cannot marry you.”

  He rearranged his face into a more sober mien. “And what is that?”

  Chewing on her lip, she blurted, “I am no longer untouched.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I am not a maiden.”

  He continued to stare at her. Was the man not familiar with the words she was using? How else could she state it that he would understand she could not marry him? Heat rose to her face at having to elaborate on the subject. “My lord, what I am trying to say—“

  Blackwell held his hand up. “I, um. You don’t need to elaborate, I think I know what you mean.”

  “Good.” She breathed a sigh of relief, which quickly grew into panic when he stood, his hands fisted at his side, his face twisted in anger. “Where is he?”

  “Who?” Maybe if she pretended not to know who he was talking about they could return to the ballroom and have this extremely uncomfortable conversation over with.

  “St. George. I am not blind, Lady Elise. I intend to call him out and then advise your father of this disaster.”

  “Call him out? Advise Papa? Disaster? Oh, no, no, please. You mustn’t make a matter of contention out of this.”

  “Lady Elise, you have been compromised. St. George must be brought up to scratch.”

  She placed her hand on his chest. “No. No. He already has.”

  He looked down at her, confusion clearly written on his face. “He has, what?”

  “He has ordered me to marry him!”

  Again Blackwell looked as though he would laugh. He was certainly a strange man. Not once had he railed against losing her because of her “condition.” He seemed more outraged on her behalf than at him being thwarted.

  “My dear, you must marry him.”

  She pushed aside the urge to stamp her foot like a child. “I will not be told that I must marry.” They stood staring at each other, then Elise remembered one other point. “Oh, my lord, I also must ask a favor of you.”

  He ran his fingers through his hair. It amazed her how many men had that habit. “What is that?”

  She primly entwined her fingers at her waist and smiled up at him. “When you visit with my father to withdraw your offer, you must not tell him why.” If Papa found out about Simon, he would demand a wedding. And somehow she was sure his demand would involve a pistol.

  “I don’t think I can agree to that.” He shook his head. “This is serious business and you must let your father handle this with St. George.”

  “Please?” She continued to stare at him, and the tears that filled her eyes were genuine. She wanted time to think about her and Simon. Being rushed into marriage, never knowing his feelings, or for that matter, her own, could plague her the rest of her life.

  He blew out a deep breath. “This is not a good idea.” He looked beyond her shoulder for a moment, staring into the darkened garden. “Very well. However, I cannot be held to that promise if it appears to me that confiding in your father—with his promise not to act in haste—would be in your best interests.” With that nebulous answer that she ruminated in her mind, he extended his arm to her. “Now I think we should return to the ballroom before tongues begin to wag.”

  They walked slowly back, which gave Elise time to compose herself. She felt better knowing she wouldn’t be compelled to marry Blackwell while she was still trying to come to grips with her relationship with Simon.

  “What is the meaning of this?” Thinking of Simon conjured up the man, blocking their path, legs braced apart, his arms crossed over his chest.

  Blackwell removed her arm from his. “What is that supposed to mean, St. George?”

  “What it means is why are you and Lady Elise out here in a dark garden?”

  Lord Blackwell leaned forward. “And why is that your affair?”

  “It is my affair because Lady Elise is no longer available. She will shortly be betrothed.”

  “Who has approved that?” Elise chimed in.

  “I have,” he snapped.

  Blackwell moved away from Elise. “Before this goes any further, there is something I need to do.”

  Simon frowned. “What?”

  “This.” Blackwell drew his arm back and punched Simon smack on the jaw.

  Tugging on the cuffs of his jacket, he turned on his heel and headed toward the ballroom. When he got to the door, he turned. “I will leave Lady Elise in your hands, but I will expect to see the two of you back in the ballroom directly.”

  ***

  Dazed, Simon sat on the stone pathway, holding his face. It did not require too much brain power to know Elise had told the man of their indiscretion. He waved away her arm when she bent to help him up. “I can get up myself.”

  Rising, he brushed off his breeches and straightened his jacket. “Am I to assume you told Blackwell? I can’t think of any other reason for the man to hit me.”

  “Yes.”

  Holding his chin, he worked his jaw. The pain wasn’t too bad. He had a feeling the man didn’t come at him full throttle. “You do realize he will go directly to your father with this news?”

  Elise shook her head. “No. I made him promise he wouldn’t tell Papa why I could not marry him.”

  “And he promised?”

  “Well, sort of.”

  Raised eyebrows had her squirming. “He seemed to promise. The way he worded it, I am not too sure, but as a gentleman, I am sure he will keep his word.”

  “Whatever that word was. You don’t seem to be too clear on that point.” Simon placed his hands on his hips. “May I ask what your purpose was in involving Lord Blackwell in something that should have remained between us?”

  This entire conversation was becoming more uncomfortable by the minute. “Since you refused to go along with my plan for you to speak to Papa on my behalf to remove Lord Blackwell from contention, I had to take matters into my own hands.”

  “And you felt this was the best solution to your dilemma? The idea that once Blackwell found out you were not a woman of virtue, he would withdraw his suit?”

  “Exactly.” She beamed if she’d finally gotten through to him.

  Simon shook his head. “Let us return to the ballroom. We have been out here much too long. I do not wish to have Blackwell come at me again, because this time I will be prepared.” As he took her elbow, he said, “I thought Lady Dearborn was your chaperone. I haven’t seen her in weeks.”

  “No. That was for that one evening. Actually Papa is our chaperone.”

  He stared at her. “I saw him in the card room not ten minutes ago.”

  “I am sure he doesn’t feel I need a chaperone at my great age.”

  He snorted. “My dear, if anyone needs a chaperone, it is you.”

  Despite the agony it caused him, Simon stayed away from Elise the next week. If Blackwell had told Pomeroy about him and Elise, there was no doubt in his mind he would have had a visit from her father. Most likely accompanied by the parson.

  He’d had himself convinced he should forget the whole mess and go back to his original plan of never marrying and letting his brother assume his title when the time came. Then he would think about Elise laughing as they waltzed, whacking her ball with fervor at the Townsend garden party, and writhing with passion underneath him. His world would never be the same without her in it.

  Bloody hell, was he to repeat his father’s actions and grow despondent over a woman? That frightened him enough to ring for his valet to prepare a bath and dress him for the Stevenson ball. He had no idea if Elise would be present, but it was time to put it all behind him and resume his nor
mal routine of attending society events and playing cat-and-mouse with the mamas of the ton, as he’d done for years.

  Feeling almost himself, he handed his invitation to the butler at the top of the stairs and waited to be announced. No, he would not scan the crowd for Lady Elise Smith. Instead, he descended the stairs and found a congenial group of men who discussed politics and horses. Soon, he was surrounded by other friends and ladies anxious for his attention.

  He tried to believe that life had returned to normal. He added his name to a number of dance cards and held more conversations with a few lords about the latest goings-on in parliament. But no matter how hard he tried, the entire time he felt as though he were missing part of himself. No woman made him burst out with laughter or tempted him to pull her closer when they waltzed. The champagne lay flat on his tongue and the discussions leaned toward the boring.

  Deciding a trip to the card room might be a pleasant distraction, he excused himself from Lord Alway and Miss Benton as they chatted about the latest on dit and headed in that direction. He made his way through the crowd and entered the card room.

  Lord Pomeroy sat with three other men, one of whom, Mr. Butler, rose from his seat and left the room. Quickly, before another man took the seat, Simon pulled out the chair and sat. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

  They all nodded, except Pomeroy who studied him. “Haven’t seen you in a while, St. George. I thought you left town.”

  “No, sir. I have been busy.”

  “Is that right?” He began dealing the cards and then took a sip of his drink before he picked up his hand. “Lady Elise has one of those infernal gatherings coming up this week.”

  Simon tried to concentrate on the game, but he wasn’t sure exactly what it was Pomeroy was trying to tell him. If all had gone as Elise had planned, Blackwell would have withdrawn his suit by now. Since Simon was no longer hanging about, perhaps Elise would get her wish and her father would cease in his scheme to get her married off.

  Why did that thought bother him? Hadn’t he decided just tonight to resume his normal life and forget about the distracting woman?