The Viscount in Her Bedroom

by Gayle Callen

  “And of course,” Miss Wade said, as they walked through the dining room with its large table seating at least twenty, “one of Grandmama’s favorite pastimes is listening to Simon sing.” She suddenly broke off, and her face clouded with sadness. “But he doesn’t sing anymore.”

  “And not because of the broken piano,” Louisa said softly, not in the least surprised.

  Miss Wade shook her head. “He says he can’t read the music, so there’s no point.”

  “But surely he knows many songs by heart.”

  “That’s what I told him, but he refuses.” She looked around and lowered her voice, even though the room was empty. “I think he doesn’t like to be stared at.” Suddenly she blushed and looked away. “Listen to me, going on like this.”

  “I don’t mind,” Louisa said. “If I’m to live here, I need to know what to expect.”

  A maid entered through a door, carrying a covered tray. They followed her into the corridor. Several doors down, she knocked and was bid to enter by the voice of Lord Wade.

  Miss Wade took Louisa’s arm and escorted her away.

  Louisa glanced over her shoulder, feeling reluctant to leave when she could learn something about the man who so fascinated her. “Isn’t Lord Wade to join us for dinner?”

  “He doesn’t eat in front of people,” Miss Wade said with resignation. “Not even us.”

  As they entered the great hall, Louisa thought of the viscount eating every meal alone, with nothing to distract him from how much his life had changed. He should accept the company and conversation of his family—but that was easy for her to think.

  The beamed ceiling of the great hall rose two full floors above them, and the high walls were decorated in shields and swords. Little groupings of furniture were scattered about, on noticeably bare floors. Less for Lord Wade to trip on.

  Louisa felt very small in that massive room, but determined to create a place for herself in such an unusual household.

  After a pleasant dinner with the Wade ladies, Louisa followed them to the drawing room. As an hour passed, and embroidery began to bore her, she admitted to herself that she was waiting to see if Lord Wade joined them. She cursed herself for selfishness, but she missed talking to men. Oh, she’d conversed with her brothers by marriage, but that was not the same thing. Men thought differently; they always said what they were thinking. It was refreshing.

  It was not too shallow to like a man’s attention—was it?

  When the ladies rose to retire, Louisa said, “Lady Wade, would you mind if I borrowed a book from your library?”

  “Of course not, Miss Shelby,” Lady Wade said. “Would you like Georgie to show you the way?”

  “It’s just down the hall, isn’t? Miss Wade gave me a fine tour this afternoon.”

  Miss Wade blushed.

  “If you need company,” Lady Wade began.

  “Oh, no, please don’t trouble anyone on my account. I could be browsing a long time. Have a good night, and I’ll see you in the morning.”

  They parted in the corridor, and Louisa found the library easily enough. Oil lamps glowed softly on the desk and several tables. Books lined the walls, floor to ceiling, and she sighed with delight. She had never been a truly dedicated student, but she loved to read novels.

  At the far end of the room, the double doors to the conservatory were thrown wide. Without the sun shining through the glass ceiling, it looked dark and full of shadows. But the odors of earth and vegetation after a cold winter drew her. She picked up a candleholder, lit the candle at a lamp, and walked into the conservatory. The paths were brick, the shrubbery so dark a green that they appeared black, even by candlelight. Fading into the blackness overhead, palm trees towered toward the glass ceiling. She was staring up at the stars, when she suddenly tripped over something in the path and went sprawling face first into a group of plants. Her candle went out even as she heard a man’s startled exclamation as he fell onto the ground, their legs entangled.

  “By God, are you all right?” he demanded.

  Lord Wade. And she’d tripped over him as if he were a random piece of furniture.

  “I am so sorry,” she said breathlessly, trying to find a way to separate without touching him further. Touching him made her think forbidden thoughts about what he looked like under his clothing, something that had always been an embarrassing preoccupation of hers where he was concerned.

  “Ah, Miss Shelby,” he murmured.

  She must have knocked him from the bench he’d been sitting on. When she turned onto her side, her face raked by fern leaves, she realized that her thigh slid up his as she moved. Her skirts were coming up as she struggled, and that only made her more and more frantic. Her heart was beating far too fast, her face was flushed with heat—but all she could think about was the hardness of his leg entwined with hers. No other man had ever been able to fluster her like he could.

  “Stay still,” he said, “and let me extricate myself. I’m not the one with my face in a shrub.”

  “How did you know?” she demanded, trying to push back her hair which had become caught on twigs. “It’s so dark with the candle out.”

  “I know what’s next to the bench I always sit on.”

  “Oh. Oh!” She gasped. “I didn’t mean—about the candle—” Oh heavens, she was the biggest fool.

  He drew his legs away. She thought he might have tried to save her from embarrassment by pulling down her skirts as he retreated. She should be upset—but she wasn’t. She wished she had a fan to wave in front of her face.

  “Think nothing of it,” he said. “I tell people it’s good to see them all the time. And that embarrasses them.”

  “Your grandmother finds it amusing.”

  “She’s encouraging.”

  Louisa was finally sitting upright, her hands in the dirt behind her. Lord Wade rose to his feet above her, and by the faint light from the library, she could see him looking down at her.

  Looking at where he knew she was. He wasn’t really looking—thank goodness, because her knees were still showing. She tugged on her skirts.

  “Does anything hurt?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Can you see?”

  “A little. There’s light from the library.”

  “Then give me your hand.”

  He reached down to her, and she reluctantly put her hand in his. He gripped it firmly and hauled her to her feet, then held her a moment too long. His hand was warm and large, and there were calluses across his palm, as if he physically worked for a living. That discrepancy in him had always intrigued her.

  He let her go. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, then remembered to speak. “I’m fine. Did I injure you?”

  “No, I’m quite healthy. The cane usually reduces the chance that I’ll run into something. And of course Manvil protects me from that as well. But when I was first blinded, he occasionally forgot to mention the corner of a wall or a flight of stairs. The cane has saved me from a bump a time or two.”

  How helpless he must have felt, and yet he could joke about it. Her admiration for him only continued to grow. “You must have been quite bruised at first.”

  “Nothing compared to my head. A rock hit me on one side, and a horse kicked me on the other.”

  “Oh. How dreadful,” she said softly.

  A silence began and stretched out. Propriety told her she should leave him, but Fate seemed to be having its way with her tonight, or why else would she have stumbled over Lord Wade? She was determined to make the most of it.

  “I hope I did not interrupt you, my lord.”

  “Only my thinking. Manvil will be back eventually to collect me.”

  “Would you mind if I sat with you until then?” There were so many things she wanted to ask him.

  The silence thickened, and there was a new tension from him, although she didn’t know why.

  “Do you think I need to be watched over like an invalid?” he asked softly, a danger
ous rumble in his voice.

  “Gracious, no, my lord!” Suddenly he didn’t seem like the jovial man he’d always presented to the world. Of course his experiences had changed him, and she wondered if he hid it from his family.

  He reached toward her, and when his hand touched her upper arm, he gripped it, then caught the other one. She gasped, but didn’t call out, didn’t struggle, even tried to tell herself that she was offended, though she was more curious than anything else.

  “I may be blind, but I’m still a man, and you’ve put yourself in a precarious situation by being alone with me. What about your reputation?”

  Her mouth opened, but she could think of nothing to say. She was alone in the dark with a handsome man. His lips were closer to hers than any man’s had ever been, and the warmth of his breath bathed her. She could feel each of his fingers imprinted on her flesh, but it wasn’t painful. Her skirts swirled about his legs. It was suddenly easy to forget that he was blind.

  “I—I only had questions about your family, about living here.” She sounded breathless, but oh, it was not from fright. “But if you’d prefer that I ask tomorrow, when Manvil is around to protect you—”

  He pulled her a little closer, and her hips brushed his. She felt a jolt of awareness that went beyond curiosity to something dangerous.

  “To protect me?” he said huskily.

  “I didn’t come looking for you, my lord. If you fear that I mean to…cause a scene, or allow myself to be compromised, I will leave this instant.”

  His hold loosened, and he sighed. “Forgive me, Miss Shelby. Something came over me when I thought you implied I needed a nanny.” He set her away from him, then ran his hand through his hair. “So you think I might need a chaperone when I’m with you?”

  She was beginning to see the pain he kept hidden. More and more she was convinced that he was a good actor. She kept her voice playfully serious. “It’s the only way to protect yourself from me.”

  “And you’re so very dangerous.” He sighed again.

  Louisa watched as he reached behind him to make sure of the location of the bench. After he sat, she purposefully sat beside him. He gave a start, but said nothing. It was a very small bench, and their arms brushed.

  “I can’t stop you from asking your questions,” he said, stretching out his legs and crossing them at the ankles.

  Which is how he must have been sitting when she’d tripped over him. If only she could be so relaxed—or pretend to be so. She wasn’t sure which he was. Everything inside her quivered with intensity at his nearness. What was wrong with her? She’d been around many men—but only he had ever made her feel so attracted to him that all she could remember was the front of their bodies touching, however lightly.

  He seemed different, here in the dark, alone with her. With his grandmother, he’d been the same man she remembered, cheerful, easy to talk to. Was it all an act for the benefit of his family?

  She had to remember that he was not her purpose here. It was his sister who could benefit the most from her assistance. Or maybe the only sibling who would accept it.

  “Wool gathering?” he asked.

  She gave a start. “Forgive me, my lord. It’s hard to know what I might be permitted to ask.”

  “I can only say no.”

  “Of course.” She found herself longing to know how he was recovering, but that would be too personal a question to ask. Tonight it must be all about Miss Wade. She took a deep breath. “I sense a tension about your sister’s first Season, and I don’t want to cause her any distress by my ignorance. She’s an intelligent, attractive girl. It did not go well?”

  He didn’t say anything at first, then gave a sigh and tipped his head back, as if he were looking at the stars. “She reluctantly came out last Season—and promptly fell on her face in front of Queen Victoria.”

  Louisa winced. “Oh, the poor girl.”

  “It got worse from there. At a ball, she tripped a duke’s son when they danced. At a dinner party, she accidentally spilled her drink on the most sparkling debutante of the Season, leading to a rumor that she did it deliberately out of jealousy.”

  “Who would believe such a thing?”

  Simon listened to the sympathy and compassion in Miss Shelby’s voice. Though she had proved herself not so smart where men were concerned, it was obvious that she was a caring woman.

  A woman who should have had her own household by now.

  He hated how distrustful he’d become, how he now questioned the motives of everyone around him—everyone but family, whose motivations he understood. His family wanted to help him, and he was becoming tired of being their personal charity.

  Now he had Louisa Shelby all concerned too. He didn’t have to see her; the pity was there in her voice. That’s what he inspired in the opposite sex now.

  After several minutes, he realized she was waiting for him to say more about Georgie. But what was there to say? He was hardly going to tell her that he thought his mother was to blame for Georgie’s lack of self-confidence. That would be just another reason to pity the whole family.

  “So will she go to London this Season?” Louisa asked.

  “I don’t know.”

  And now he sounded surly, so unusual for him. Well, for the old Simon. The new Simon was sitting beside a beautiful woman he couldn’t see, feeling sorry for himself. Miss Shelby reminded him too much of his old life. A year ago, in a situation like this, he would have been enjoying her company, making her laugh.

  Now he was forced to wait for Manvil, when all he wanted to do was leave, to escape the tempting scent of her, the soft sound of her voice. He found himself wondering how often she’d “accidentally” been alone with men.

  Her breath was sweet as perfume, and he could feel it on his skin. She was looking right at him.

  “Why are you watching me?” he asked, hearing how husky his voice sounded.

  She spoke steadily. “Because we’re having a conversation. I don’t usually look away from someone when I do that. And if you don’t mind my curiosity, how can you tell?”

  “I can feel your breath.”

  And then he didn’t. “You can stop holding it,” he said dryly.

  She gave a soft laugh, and for a moment he was back in time, alone with a woman, his confidence as it used to be.

  But he wasn’t a part of that world anymore. He sighed, turning away from her, wondering where Manvil was.

  No, he was not going to play the coward. He forced himself to consider bold Miss Shelby and her questions. “Might I ask why you’re so concerned with my sister, when it is my grandmother who has employed you?”

  She hesitated. “Because Miss Wade and I will deal with each other every day. As I said before, I don’t want to cause her any—”

  “Distress, yes, I remember what you said. And strangely, I sense a deeper reason.”

  “Ah, Lord Wade, maybe you’re trying to see too much into my innocent questions.”

  He arched a brow at her, then heard her gasp.

  “I didn’t mean—”

  He gave her a slow smile. “I know what you meant. And I don’t take offense that easily. But now you’re stalling.”

  “You are far too perceptive.”

  The respect in her voice irritated him. Was she surprised that a blind man could figure her out?

  “I have no hidden agenda, my lord. I simply see a girl who is confused and in need of help. And I would like to help.”

  “How? What do you think you can do that her family is not already doing?”

  “In my last position, I worked with a young girl to prepare her for her Season, when she was quite in fear of it. Though I do not mean to imply that I was the only reason, she did well, and is now married.”

  But all that Simon could see was Louisa’s reputation—and Georgie being too closely associated with it. “No.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Georgie is on uncertain ground, but recovering. I feel that with her family
’s support, her confidence will grow again, and then she’ll be ready.”

  “Forgive my impertinence my lord, but I don’t agree with you.”

  “Then that is your misfortune, Miss Shelby.”

  “But without encouragement and assistance, she might magnify her past mistakes into something so large, she’ll feel she can never recover.”

  He smiled. “I think I know my sister and her reactions better than you do. But I appreciate your concern for her.”

  She said nothing for a moment; she was so still, that all he could hear was her even breathing, as if she were trying to control her temper. He was amused and intrigued.

  “I have taken up enough of your time,” she said pleasantly. “Would you like me to escort you to your room?”

  He came back to the reality of his situation. “No, Manvil will come when he’s called.”

  “Then good night, my lord.”

  He heard her leave, and suddenly the conservatory seemed cold, as empty as any warehouse. He was a man once unaccustomed to being alone. He was used to servants and family and friends and admirers. He had always felt his best among a party of people.

  But the eternal darkness separated him, and he found himself wanting to call for Manvil like a child afraid at night. Afraid of the dark.

  He heard Manvil’s heavy footsteps.

  “I thought she’d never leave,” the valet said.

  Simon smiled tiredly. Thank goodness for Manvil, whose irreverence hadn’t changed a bit since Simon’s blindness.

  “Unless you want me to bring her back,” Manvil added with humor.

  “No, it’s time for bed.”

  “Then I should definitely fetch her back.”

  “Vulgar tonight, aren’t you?” Simon said, standing up, the cane gripped in one hand as usual. He reached forward, and Manvil’s shoulder slid comfortably beneath his other hand, like an anchor in a sea of darkness.