Falling For The Viscount (The Seven Curses of London Book 6)

by Lana Williams

  After asking her directly about her health only to have Lettie reassure her that she’d never felt stronger, Dalia had broached the subject of fallen women, carefully watching both her words and Lettie’s reaction. Though Lettie’s concern matched her own, the topic didn’t seem to cause her undue upset other than the outrage Dalia also felt, but Dalia still proceeded cautiously.

  Lettie and Nathaniel had seen firsthand how young girls were taken from workhouses with the promise of jobs, only to be drugged and placed in brothels, or even worse, stuffed in a cargo hold of a ship and sent to foreign shores for a similar fate.

  Dalia had no wish to rattle her sister, but there was no one else with whom she could discuss the matter. It hadn’t been easy to balance the conversation to avoid worrying Lettie and also hide the fact that she had not simply read about the Argyll Rooms but visited them. Lettie tended to still think of her as young and thoughtless.

  Dalia hoped those days were behind her, and that she was a different person now. A better person.

  Thus far, she’d managed to avoid mentioning Spencer’s involvement in the situation. But here he was, looking less than pleased to be discovered.

  “Good day, Viscount Rutland,” Lettie said with a curtsy. “I didn’t realize you were here.” She glanced at her husband as though to gain an explanation, but Nathaniel only smiled as he walked toward her.

  “Rutland and I were just catching up on a few things.” He captured Lettie’s hands in his.

  “Oh?” His avoidance of giving a specific explanation didn’t seem to have satisfied Lettie in the least. Nor had it satisfied Dalia.

  “I’m surprised to see you here,” Dalia said, raising a brow at Spencer.

  What she’d thought of as wariness on his expression quickly smoothed out, making her wonder if she’d imagined it.

  “Good to see you, Mrs. Hawke. Miss Fairchild.” He moved into the drawing room as well. “The captain was kind enough to make time to answer a few questions for me.”

  “Of what sort?” Dalia knew something was afoot. While she could hardly claim to know Spencer well enough to realize when he was hiding something, that was exactly what she thought.

  “This and that.” Nathaniel held Lettie’s gaze.

  The mix of love and heat in his expression caused Dalia’s heart to give a little leap. Did her sister realize how lucky she was to have a husband who cared for her as deeply as Nathaniel did? The idea of a man looking at her with such intensity had Dalia swallowing hard.

  For some unknown reason, her gaze tangled with Spencer’s. She couldn’t read his expression at the moment. Then again, she wasn’t certain she wanted to know what he was thinking. It might involve titled ladies, which didn’t please her in the least.

  She gathered her wandering thoughts, remembering why she’d come here. She didn’t think of Spencer as a potential husband. After all, she clearly remembered crossing him off the list of potential suitors when she was thirteen.

  Somehow, she wasn’t as certain of the wisdom of that decision as she’d been a week ago.

  “Dalia and I were just going to ring for tea. Would you care to join us?” Lettie asked, glancing between the two men.

  “Oh. Well. I should be going.” Spencer glanced at the door then back at Lettie, his uncertainty obvious.

  “Please stay,” Lettie pressed.

  When he raised a brow at Dalia, she realized he was asking if she wanted him to remain. His consideration warmed her. Though she’d always considered him polite, she’d never realized how thoughtful he was. It seemed as if he understood she might prefer to have her sister to herself.

  The things she’d learned about Spencer in the past few days made her realize she didn’t truly know him at all. What else might she have overlooked?

  “Yes, do stay,” she added when she felt the weight of everyone’s regard.

  “I wouldn’t want to intrude.” He glanced at each of them.

  “Not at all,” Nathaniel said. “We’d enjoy having you join us.”

  Lettie stepped into the foyer to alert the footman to bring the tea before Spencer responded, giving Dalia a wink as she did so.

  Dalia felt her face heat. Did Lettie think she had designs on Spencer? Dear heavens, if she gave any indication of that to Spencer, Dalia would be terribly embarrassed. Before Dalia could step into the foyer to warn her sister not to say anything, Lettie returned.

  “Dalia and I were discussing The Seven Curses of London.”

  Nathaniel’s brow furrowed. “I thought we agreed to set aside those issues to focus on our own family.”

  “Well, of course. I only said we were discussing it.” Lettie blinked up at her husband.

  “And what in particular was the topic?” Nathaniel asked, his suspicion of his wife obvious from the tone of his voice.

  Dalia wanted to groan in protest. The last thing she wanted was for Spencer to know of her continued concern. Not that he didn’t already.

  Maybe it was simply the fact that she didn’t want him to realize how much the lives of such women bothered her.

  “Fallen women,” Lettie said.

  Dalia glanced at him, expecting to find judgment on his face. To her surprise, she found something completely different.

  Admiration.

  An odd flutter filled her middle. She drew a breath to gather her resolve not to lift her hand to her stomach to calm the ridiculous sensation. His constant ability to surprise her was most unsettling.

  Nathaniel escorted Lettie to her favorite chair, leaving Spencer and Dalia to the settee where Dalia had been sitting earlier. It felt much smaller with him beside her.

  “What has brought the issue of fallen women to your attention?” Nathaniel asked.

  Dalia glanced at Lettie, wishing she hadn’t raised the subject. She didn’t want to tell everyone of Ruth’s unhappiness in her position as a maid.

  “I believe Miss Fairchild is concerned that women who wish to better themselves by earning higher wages have few options. Some are tempted to enter prostitution, at least temporarily.”

  She stared at Spencer in surprise. His understanding of the situation and her feelings regarding it nearly made her smile.

  “The two of you have...discussed this?” Lettie asked.

  “The topic happened to come up the other night at the ball,” Dalia responded, wanting to make certain he didn’t mention the Argyll Rooms. She feared that if Lettie learned of that, she’d feel the need to share Dalia’s activities with their mother. Ironic when she’d hidden her own movements regarding neglected children from the entire family.

  “How interesting.” Lettie stared in fascination between her and Spencer.

  Dalia could nearly see the questions forming behind Lettie’s eyes.

  Spencer shook his head. “The idea of those young ladies feeling they have no options...” His voice trailed off as he looked at Nathaniel.

  “Terrible, isn’t it?” Nathaniel patted Lettie’s hand. “We felt much the same way when we realized the extent of the problem.”

  “Why more people aren’t shocked into action is disturbing.” Lettie scowled.

  Dalia breathed a sigh of relief as Dibbles, their butler, carried in the tea tray.

  “Thank you, Dibbles.” Lettie smiled at the man. “I’ll pour.”

  Dalia smiled at Nathaniel’s long-time butler, and he dipped his head in response before leaving the room.

  She searched her thoughts for a different topic of conversation. While she wouldn’t have minded discussing the issue with any of the people in the room individually, doing so as a group made it far too dangerous when she had something to hide.

  “How are Viscount Frost and his wife?” she asked.

  “They were doing well when we last saw them,” Lettie said. “They’ve been in the country for a time, visiting Frost’s parents. I believe they’re returning soon with Oliver’s sister.”

  “I didn’t realize he had a sister,” Dalia said.

  “She’s near
your age,” Lettie said as she passed each of them a cup of tea. “Perhaps you could introduce her to some of your friends to help her feel welcome.”

  “I’d be pleased to.” Though she’d come to realize her “friends” were more like acquaintances as she’d grown apart from them of late. Fashion and gossip held little interest for her compared to the previous Season.

  “Have Sophia and Aberland returned from their travels?” Lettie asked. She glanced at Spencer. “She’s a cousin of ours. I’m not certain if you’ve met her?”

  “Yes, actually I have.” The oddest smile played about Spencer’s lips. Dalia decided she would have to ask him why when they had a few minutes alone.

  The conversation continued to others they knew as they enjoyed their tea. The few comments Spencer offered raised more questions in Dalia’s mind than they answered. How had she never realized bigger what a deep well the man was?

  When Lettie hid a yawn behind her hand, Dalia decided the time had come for them to take their leave. “We should be going. Will we see you at the Copeland’s ball tomorrow evening?”

  “Depends on how Letitia is feeling.” Nathaniel took Lettie’s hand in his.

  She frowned at his response but linked her fingers through his. “I’ll be fine. And I would very much like to go.”

  Their discussion caused Dalia to smile. Nathaniel’s protectiveness over Lettie was sweet and revealed how much he cared for her. They made the perfect couple.

  Dalia couldn’t help the tug of envy, wondering if there was a man out there who would care for her in the same way. But the bigger question was when had she decided she wanted that for herself? Her gaze landed on Spencer, causing the odd flutter to return. She pulled her focus elsewhere with a stern reminder that he was merely a friend.

  Chapter Seven

  “It would soften the hearts of many, and hold the hands of those who would break down the bridge behind the sinner, could they know the awful misery that frequently attends the life of a fallen woman.”

  ~The Seven Curses of London

  Spencer sighed as he surveyed the crowd at the Copeland’s ball the next evening. He hadn’t intended to come. He’d had far too many late nights this week and should’ve remained home. But after hearing Dalia mention she was attending, no matter how many times he’d told himself it would be best if he kept his distance, here he was.

  She was trouble with a capital T. Therein was the problem. Containing his urge to curb her reckless behavior was impossible. He often wondered if he’d done more to caution his brother if he’d still be alive.

  But his reasons for wanting to be near her were much more complicated than that. Dalia made him feel things of which he hadn’t realized he was capable. Not that he cared to name or even examine them. Obviously, his logic was muddled by lack of sleep.

  “Why is it you’re always standing alone when I see you at parties?” The deep timbre of his father’s voice had Spencer turning to face him.

  Why is it you always acknowledge my presence with criticism rather than a greeting? But Spencer held back the words. No purpose would be served in stating them. Surely in all these years, he’d learned that much.

  “Father. How is your evening?” He’d also given up on inquiring of his father’s health. His response always involved how he was as good as could be expected for a man who’d lost his eldest son and heir.

  Something in his father’s tone when he mentioned Edward always made him feel as though he blamed Spencer for Edward's death. Or perhaps he simply blamed him for not being the one who’d managed to get himself killed.

  The accident that took Edward’s life could’ve been avoided. That was the part Spencer couldn’t release, the part he had yet to forgive Edward or himself for. While his relationship with his father had never been good, it had worsened since his brother’s death.

  Each time his father studied him, Spencer knew he compared him to Edward, no doubt mentally listing all the ways Spencer lacked. As if Spencer hadn’t been aware of them all his life.

  Yet he’d foolhardily believed his father would at the very least acknowledge that Edward would still be alive if he’d had even a small portion of Spencer’s cautiousness.

  But no.

  If anything, that trait only made his father despise him more.

  “Well enough, I suppose,” his father answered at last. “You should come by and visit your mother soon. She wasn’t feeling up to attending this evening.”

  “Of course.” He told himself that he’d stopped trying to gain his father’s approval. After all, it was an impossible task. Despite that, he found himself reaching out time and again. Obviously, he was a glutton for punishment. “Perhaps we can find a time when you might be available as well.”

  He visited his mother less and less often. From what little he could tell, his presence only reminded her of Edward’s absence and the chasm that separated Spencer and his father.

  He no longer believed he’d be anything more in their minds than the spare heir. How unfortunate for everyone that his existence was actually required.

  “Perhaps.” His father didn’t bother to look at him.

  The foul mood he always experienced upon speaking with either of his parents loomed. It would be best if he left now before he took his poor disposition out on someone.

  Then he saw Dalia across the room, and the threatening cloud eased back. The lavender gown she wore flattered her. Its flat front swept back into a modest bustle, emphasizing her narrow waist. A matching ribbon wound through the intricate plait in which her blonde hair was arranged. Watching her from this distance only convinced him to draw near.

  “If you’ll excuse me, Father, I see someone with whom I must speak.”

  His father turned to him in surprise but did nothing to stop him as he walked away. Before Spencer had neared Dalia, another man approached her. She smiled at him and took his arm to proceed to the dance floor.

  All for the best, he told himself as he paused to look around. Reserve was needed when it came to Dalia. After a mental argument, he danced with two other ladies, not wanting the time he spent with Dalia to draw attention. Heaven forbid if anyone thought he was courting her. Because he wasn’t.

  He sighed at the ridiculous conversation he was having with himself. He could only blame his odd mood on the encounter with his father and lack of sleep.

  “Good evening, Rutland.”

  The sound of her voice rippled down his spine and filled him with awareness. Oh, dear Lord. He truly was in trouble.

  The thought frustrated him to no end. There was no logical reason for his attraction to her. Her propensity for placing herself in danger would drive him mad. Surely these feelings he’d developed were merely lust. He need only keep a tight rein on his attraction, and it would soon pass.

  He turned to face her and drew a long, slow breath as he took in her beauty. “You look lovely, Miss Fairchild.”

  “Oh.” She glanced down at her gown as though she’d forgotten what she had on. He rather liked that about her. “Thank you.”

  “Would you care to dance?”

  “Yes, I would.” She took his arm with a smile, glancing at him from beneath her lashes as he escorted her to the dance floor.

  He waited, certain something was on her mind. Wasn’t it always?

  “Have you ever ventured to Cremorne Gardens?”

  Ah, there it was. He searched his memory for the vaguely familiar name. “I believe it’s another place for prostitutes to pick up customers, is it not?”

  “I fear that is where Betty is next taking Ruth.”

  The music started, saving him from responding. Should he be insulted that the only reason she sought him out was to discuss the topic of fallen women? Perhaps he was overreacting. Maybe she wasn’t thinking what he feared she was.

  “Have you advised Ruth of the danger?”

  “That is exactly what I intend to do.”

  “Excellent idea.” He drew a breath of relief.

 
“However, I know too little of the place to convince her to stay away. If I had a look around for myself, I could then advise her of the details.”

  “No.” He shook his head, already knowing what she wanted.

  “We could go in the middle of the day,” she continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “The danger would be lessened then, but I could still tell her what truly goes on there.”

  “No.”

  “I wouldn’t think it would take more than a half hour. Do you?”

  “Can you hear me speaking?” Anger flushed his skin, a rarity for him.

  “Of course. Don’t be ridiculous.”

  He spun her to the edge of the dance floor, easing her into an alcove hidden by tall potted ferns so he could speak his mind. “What do you think you’re about?”

  “Whatever do you mean?” She glanced at the privacy of their position. “What are you about?”

  “I am attempting to talk some sense into that brain of yours, but you refuse to listen.” He kept his voice low, doing his best to control his emotions.

  “You already agreed to return to the Argyll Rooms if necessary. This is only a change in location.”

  “No, it’s not. Cremorne Gardens is far worse.”

  “How do you know?” Her eyes narrowed. “I have a difficult time believing you frequent such a place.”

  He bit back a response, unable to reveal his mission. At least she realized he didn’t seek female companionship in such places.

  “I can’t believe I’d be in any danger if you were with me,” she continued.

  He made the mistake of looking closely at her, the bright blue of her eyes stealing his thoughts and bringing an awareness he shouldn’t welcome. But he did. She made him feel alive.

  His gaze dropped to her lips. All else fell away. He couldn’t think of anything except how she’d taste. What her mouth might feel like beneath his. How the heat of her body would warm his own if he drew her fully into his arms.

  He knew the exact moment her focus shifted to him. That change in her awareness gave him permission on a fundamental level. Before he could stop himself, his mind shut down, ignoring the sights and sounds around him except her. He leaned in, her light scent swamping his senses, teasing his desire. For a moment, their breath became one. Then her lips were against his, the sensation completing him in an unfamiliar yet thrilling way.