Refreshments! Colin could have hugged the man! It was a brilliant move, and so smooth. The Viscountess would have never guessed that it was all Norris’s doing.
“Yes, Norris,” Colin said as he shot the man a look of thanks, one that said, You saved my arse.
Norris stood at attention, “Will you require anything else, Mister MacAlistair?”
“That will be all, Norris. Thank you.”
The butler nodded then walked across the thick floral carpet before exiting the room and closing the door behind him with a faint click.
Colin returned his attention to the Viscountess, whose once stern expression was now one of playfulness. “Oh, my!” she exclaimed as she pried her gloves from her fingers. “I love scones. Care for some tea, dear?”
Before Colin could respond, she had already tossed her gloves aside and reached for the pot, “Of course you would like some tea,” she answered for him, filling a small tea cup resting upon a saucer then offering it to him. “There you are. Take your tea and sit beside me.”
Colin obeyed, watching as the Viscountess poured herself a cup then set it upon its saucer on the table in front of her. She then reached for a plate and wasted no time reaching for a scone and taking a large bite out of it.
She chewed in silence before whispering, “Heavenly. I haven’t had one of these in ages. Our cook, bless her heart, is awful at baking scones. Poor dear,” she lamented, pausing to savor another bite. “She was once very good at it but is now up there in years and has forgotten some of my most beloved recipes.”
Sipping his tea, Colin decided to let the Viscountess speak. It calmed his racing pulse and was far easier than addressing the fact that he ruined her granddaughter’s future happiness and reputation.
“To be honest,” the Viscountess continued, “Pear tends to add ingredients that shouldn’t be in particular recipes. She once added a large amount of pepper to the clotted cream. When it was set before us, it was almost black. Yet there she was, standing by our table waiting for our approval, as she always does.”
“Pray tell, what did you do?” Colin asked, before taking a sip of his tea.
“I did what any upstanding member of the ton would not,” she emphasized her last words before continuing, “I took a spoonful in front of her, claiming it to be her best meal yet, then discarded it in a potted fern after she left the room.”
Colin coughed behind his hand then set his cup and saucer upon the table in front of him. “That was very kind of you, Lady Weston.”
“Not really as there was a casualty – the poor fern died several days later.” The Viscountess mused, studying him through narrowed eyes. “I confided that story not seeking your compliments but because I believe you will understand. You did, after all, just thank your butler. That is quite unusual for people in our social standing and would be mocked by our peers.”
“Perhaps in your social standing, Lady Weston, however, I possess no title,” Colin reminded her.
“Pish-posh,” the Viscountess shook her head, her silver ringlets bouncing around her face. “I have inquired about you,” her eyes then widened, alert. Colin was certain she was gauging his reaction to such news.
“I expected nothing less,” he responded, waiting for her assessment of him.
The Dowager Viscountess tipped her head to one side, “You have quite a few influential friends, Mister MacAlistair.”
Although surprised by her statement, Colin didn’t voice his opposition, choosing instead to listen.
“Your sister, your brother-in-law the Duke of Davenport, and Lady Victoria are all influential to be sure. Then there are your servants …” her words lingered in the air. After a substantial pause, she continued, “everyone I have met is loyal to you and supportive of you. In fact, they tell me you are a kind and honorable man.”
The Dowager Viscountess’s timbre inferred that she was doubtful. With her intense stare fixed upon him, Colin’s heart raced more quickly than before. He stood, crossing the room until he reached a large window and stared through the immaculate pane of glass. A cloud hovered in front of the sun, darkening the landscape as he stared at the shadows.
“An honorable man,” he repeated, returning his attention to the Viscountess, his hands in his trouser pockets. “Hard to believe is it not? I am the same man who broke your granddaughter’s heart years ago. The very same man who in less than twenty-four hours managed to ruin her reputation, break her heart for a second time, and destroy her betrothal to his very own brother.”
“You do get to the heart of the matter, I see,” the Viscountess replied as a smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I dare say I like you very much!”
Colin swore he was imagining things. “I beg your pardon?” his brow furrowed.
“You heard me,” the Viscountess said, her rosy cheeks almost the color of the red velvet sofa upon which she sat.
The woman was a force of nature, he realized. But why wouldn’t she be? The Dowager Viscountess sat in a gown of orange and pink, with a red sash tied around her plump waist. Anyone capable of wearing that color combination was either fearless or color blind, and Colin was certain that Fiona Weston, the Dowager Viscountess of Haversham, fell into the former category.
“My granddaughter confided in me that you wish to marry her,” the Viscountess spoke, her voice almost angelic. “I think that is truly admirable on your part.”
“Lady Weston,” Colin held his hand in the air. “Please don’t bestow any more compliments upon me. I have wanted to marry your granddaughter for several years. What I did last night was nothing if not selfish.”
“Harrumph,” the Viscountess spoke behind her teacup before placing it on the table with a clink. She then stood, her skirts rustling as she crossed the room. When Lady Weston reached Colin, she stood in front of him, craning her neck as he towered above her by well over a foot. “I came here expecting to dislike you, Mister MacAlistair,” she said as a matter of fact, not an apology. “No, let me rephrase that. I came here hoping I would dislike you.”
Shaking his head, Colin tried to grasp her logic. He was quite unsuccessful. “I don’t understand.”
“Eve doesn’t wish to marry you,” she said.
Although he already knew it to be true, her words still weighed heavily upon his soul.
The Dowager Viscountess appeared not to notice. “I was hoping I would meet you and dislike you immensely. It would have made it much easier for her, however,” she reached for him, patting his cheek with her cold hands. “You have now made that impossible.”
“I apologize, Lady Weston,” Colin teased. “If you like, I can behave like a complete scoundrel from now on. I am certain I could make you dislike me.”
The Viscountess waved her hand in the air and, with a shrug of her shoulders, replied, “No, no, what’s done is done.”
Just when Colin began to think the kind woman was indeed senile, she surprised him with a sharp mind and a wicked sense of humor.
“You are a complete misfit,” the Dowager Viscountess announced without reproof. “You despise polite society, you are fond of your servants, and in love with my granddaughter. I fear that those traits are prerequisites for joining my family.”
She placed her hands on her hips. “I have no choice but to insist that you marry my granddaughter.”
Colin arched his brow. “Had I known it would be this easy, I would have returned home much sooner.”
“Why didn’t you?”
Again meeting the Dowager Viscountess’s intense gaze, Colin contemplated his response. He hadn’t denied loving Eve to her grandmother. Even so it was quite something else to be honest with her and admit his motives. It opened his heart for display.
“I was well aware that I wasn’t good enough for a Viscount’s daughter. I left to make something of myself.” Though not the complete truth, it wasn’t a lie either.
“I take it that you’ve done so?” The Viscountess teased.
He nodded. “I’ve amassed a
substantial fortune. Although not a title, it’s sufficient.”
“Eve won’t be impressed by your wealth, of that you may be certain. You wounded her terribly; I won’t deny that,” the Dowager Viscountess tipped her head in contemplation.
“I am well aware of how much I have hurt your granddaughter,” Colin grimaced. “I know she may never love me and have no expectations.”
“How can someone who seems so intelligent be so daft?”
Colin blinked.
“Darling boy, she does love you. I wouldn’t be here if she didn’t. Eve never stopped loving you.”
The Viscountess’s words left him breathless.
Eve loves me. It wasn’t his imagination, his own wishful thinking or simply Victoria’s opinion. Eve really did love him. That was enough to base a marriage on, wasn’t it? After all, what else was there?
“I see,” the Viscountess whispered. “You hoped for it but doubted it to be true.”
The Viscountess read his thoughts, just as Victoria and Sebastian had the prior evening. As far as Colin was concerned, this was occurring much too often for his own good.
Why was it that once upon his home soil he immediately became obvious and readable, at least in regards to this one subject?
“I don’t deserve her.” The words had escaped his lips before he could stop them. His heart was laid bare for Eve’s grandmother to see. The realization made him clutch his vest as if that could protect him.
The Viscountess took his arm then led him back to the settee. “Sit with me, and I shall impart a secret.”
She settled against the plush cushions and Colin sat beside her. The Dowager Viscountess patted his arm while a serene smile swept across her lips, a motherly gesture he hadn’t experienced in so many years.
“I felt the same way before I married the Viscount. I wasn’t nobility, you see; I was far from it, in fact.”
“A fellow commoner?” Colin teased. He now knew why she understood him so.
“Oh no, darling, not simply an untitled member of the ton,” her eyes clouded as she recalled her past. “I was a penniless orphan who worked her way up the ranks to become a governess. That is how I met my husband, while working for a neighboring family. Our marriage was quite scandalous at the time.”
“I had no idea,” Colin whispered, failing to hide his astonishment.
With her next words, the Dowager Viscountess Fiona Weston proved she was more perceptive than all the members of the haut ton combined. “I know what it’s like to be an outcast, to feel unworthy of someone’s love. I understand why you ran away, why you needed to prove yourself.” She patted Colin’s hand. “Someday, I am certain Eve will understand. I wish I could tell you that you no longer need to prove yourself, but alas I cannot. You must work hard to make Eve trust you again, to forgive you for leaving her.”
A mischievous grin replaced the Dowager Viscountess’s solemn expression. “She will forgive you. You and I shall make certain of it.”
“How?”
“Well, I’m afraid it won’t be through a conventional approach,” the kind woman twitched her nose in a rather unique way as if deep in contemplation. She then continued, “You know that you must marry Eve first; that is crucial. She is certain you will hurt her again therefore marrying her, doing the one thing you walked away from those many years ago, will begin to heal her open wounds. Then you may win her heart.”
Although hopeful, Colin remained unconvinced. “Your granddaughter doesn’t wish to marry me.”
“But she will do so – you and I both know that. She loves you far too much not to, but I suspect she will fight you.”
“Lady Weston,” Colin spoke in a warning tone, “if your granddaughter discovers that you are helping me, or worse yet, siding with me—”
“Pish-posh,” she slapped his hand. “My granddaughter loves you, and I am certain you love her. By aiding you, I am ensuring her future happiness.”
The Dowager Viscountess’s light tone turned dire in an instant as she issued a warning. “Do not cause me to regret my decision to help you, Mister MacAlistair. I can be quite a formidable woman when I want to be.”
“Of that, Lady Weston, I have no doubt,” Colin assured her.
She then kissed his cheek and rose from the sofa. “Good day, my dear.”
Colin stood, offering her his arm. Instead, the Viscountess reached for two scones that remained untouched on their plate. After wrapping them in a linen napkin, she stuffed them into her rather large, feathered reticule of orange.
“I had no idea birds of that particular shade existed,” he teased her.
The Viscountess’s laughter, unladylike and raucous, echoed throughout the small room as she snapped her reticule closed. “I may never forgive you, dear boy.”
“For my observation?”
“No,” the Viscountess straightened her posture, “for making something of yourself. If you hadn’t done so, I might have great-grandbabies by now.”
With that last comment, she tossed her reticule over her shoulder then turned on her heel. As she exited the room, the Dowager Viscountess called over her shoulder, “No need to escort me to the door. We serve dinner at five o’clock sharp, so don’t be late.”
Colin walked to the doorway, watching his guest until she’d turned a corner and out of view. Brilliant woman! Dinner was the perfect time to start courting Eve—
Dinner.
Oh, good Lord, what will Lady Weston’s cook prepare? After contemplating whether or not he should eat before traveling to the Viscountess’s estate for dinner, Colin decided against it. After all, the last thing he wanted to do was injure her chef’s feelings and besides, becoming ill was a small price to pay for marrying Eve.
His mind raced with the preparations that needed to be made. Colin would ensure that, although not a grand event, their wedding would be special for Eve as would their courtship.
Tonight, Colin decided, was the perfect time to give her the ring he’d bought for her so long ago. Reaching into his vest pocket, he removed a wooden ring box then pried it open, revealing a large square cut emerald surrounded by tiny diamonds cushioned against green velvet. He removed the ring, turning it in his fingers.
It had been in his pocket for over a year now, ever since he could afford a jewel of its size and quality. He should have returned then. He could have as he had already amassed enough wealth, but he chose to wait.
No longer.
Colin was tired of waiting. It was time he fought for what he wanted, and he would do just that – starting tonight.
Eve had no idea what was in store for her.
Chapter 8
Eve stared blankly at the blurred splotches of black ink on a page that had she spent the better portion of the past half hour attempting to read. Slamming the leather-bound novel shut with an exasperated moan, she placed it on her lap as memories of last evening’s events continued to pummel her. She couldn’t escape the wanton way she had behaved and the harm she caused to so many.
Her cheeks burned from shame and anger at her own stupidity. That wasn’t all, though. No, jealousy had reared its ugly head several times over the course of a very long and sleepless night.
Why did it bother her to see Victoria alone in the gardens with Colin?
Jealousy coursed through her veins. Slowly, like a spindly vine it proceeded until it wrapped around her heart and squeezed so hard she thought it would burst.
Somewhere before dawn, Eve began to wonder if that involuntary response is what led her to toss away her future with Tristan for one kiss with Colin.
Meaningless … her words came back to haunt her. There was nothing insignificant about her encounter with Colin. Try as she might to convince herself otherwise, Eve grasped that their indiscretion was brimming with significance though she could not admit it aloud. Not yet. Nor would she admit aloud that kissing Colin was a conscious choice, one she made without any thought of the repercussions that would follow.
At that realiza
tion, she swallowed hard against the bile rising in her throat as guilt and shame merged into a toxic brew.
It all seemed so different in the light of day. Eve
thought she loved Tristan; she was certain of it in fact until Colin’s return. After a cold, dark night with nothing but her thoughts to consume her, Eve witnessed the sunrise from her bedchamber. As the morning lightened, so too did Eve’s conscience.
With this morning’s sunrise came the knowledge that Tristan was her second choice.
The sound of footsteps bounding down the hall combined with the whoosh of rustling skirts snapped Eve from her inner turmoil. She need not turn to learn the identity of her visitor; Victoria was the sole person to call without being formally announced by Eve’s butler. Lady Victoria Montgomery was family, like a sister to Eve. Grandmamma insisted that the duke and his family be treated as such sans any formalities.
Eve studied her friend as she strode across the sun-filled room, a flourish of sky blue and cream. She looked light and lovely, radiating warmth and beauty like the summer sky itself.
“What think you of this fine weather today?” Victoria asked, her jovial tone meant to cheer her hostess, Eve suspected.
Forcing a grin for her guest, Eve responded, “It is beautiful today although it did get quite chilly last night.”
“From what I understand, the temperature rose several degrees last evening,” Victoria quipped, wrapping her arms around Eve’s shoulders from behind. “We can discuss it if you wish, or we can drown our sorrows in brandy – I have it on good authority that brandy works for the men.”
Eve arched her brow in challenge. “I never cared for the taste.”
“Ah, well,” Tori rested her head against her friend’s, “conversation it is, then.”
Victoria proceeded to join Eve on her chaise, leaning against the worn velvet brocade as her teasing demeanor helped to lessen Eve’s tension and guilt. It was now a dull ache encasing her muscles.
“I have made quite a mess,” Eve announced with a sigh, resting her head on her friend’s shoulder.
Enticing Eve: Scandalous Secrets, Book 2 Page 13