The Dangerous Viscount

by Miranda Neville

  “Five minutes less than the last time you asked,” Diana snapped. “For heaven’s sake, Min. I’ve never known you so fidgety.” Traveling was always tiresome, but there was little to complain about a journey on excellent roads in the comfortable and well-sprung coach that had been one of Sir Tobias Fanshawe’s wedding presents to his bride.

  “I wish we were in London. I only just escaped from spending my entire life in the countryside and now you’re making me go back. You’re taking me away from pavements and people and returning me to plows and pigs. I can almost smell the dung already.”

  Diana laughed at Minerva’s horrified expression. “I don’t believe Markley Chase Abbey is set in a farmyard. The house is reputed to be quite lovely and the party should be amusing.”

  “We both know why you are looking forward to it. Days and days of listening to your darling Blakeney rattle on about pigeons and partridges.”

  “If you work at it I’m sure you can come up with a few more things you hate beginning with P.”

  “I can think of one I don’t hate! Parliament. There’s going to be a special session and I shall miss everything.”

  “It’s not as though you can attend,” Diana pointed out. “You can read the reports in The Times just as well in Gloucestershire.”

  Minerva was not to be consoled. “If the Chases bother to have it delivered. Lady Chase probably only subscribes to some tedious journal of bibliographical enquiry.”

  “You’ll have plenty of time to enjoy London next year when you come out. And as I keep telling you, having Lady Esther to share your debut will make you much more comfortable. I wish I’d had a close friend during my season.”

  Minerva leaned back in her seat and frowned. At least she wasn’t whining anymore. “I’m not sure I want to come out next year. I don’t think I want to marry yet. I don’t want to settle for someone whom I’ll have to live with for the rest of my life without looking around first.”

  “That’s just what I want for you,” Diana agreed. “You certainly don’t have to wed anyone unless you truly wish to. You’ll have the comfort of waiting as long as necessary. And you’ll have lots of choice, I promise. There’s nothing I won’t do to ensure your season is a triumph.”

  Minerva must have heard the bitterness in Diana’s voice. “Was yours so very bad then?”

  Diana shuddered at the memory. “Going to London was all I dreamed of since I was fourteen years old. All I wanted to do was have fun and then get married, preferably to Blakeney. I looked forward to the season so much and I hated every moment. My clothes were wrong and we weren’t invited to the most tonnish events. I hardly met anyone. I spent most of the time at balls sitting with the chaperones while Mama talked to elderly gentlemen about horses when she should have been finding me partners. She had no idea how to meet the right people.”

  “Is that why you married Sir Tobias?”

  “He was the only person who took any notice of me. He was kind, and he adored me. By the end of one month in town I knew marrying Blakeney was as likely as traveling to the moon.”

  “I don’t understand it, Di. You are so beautiful.”

  “No, Min. You and Mama and the boys are beautiful—and handsome. I take after Papa. My face is too round, my hair a dull brown, and my figure tends to plumpness. I spend a fortune on clothes, thanks to Tobias, and I’ve learned how to dress well thanks to Chantal, but underneath my looks are no more than passable. It’s all in the presentation. But you, with your golden hair and tall, slim figure, will take the ton by storm. Particularly since your clothes will be unequalled by any young lady in London.”

  Minerva looked troubled. “I don’t want to win a husband with my looks. You know I wish to wed a man of substance who will appreciate the help I can give him in his career.”

  “And so you shall, my dearest. But I’m afraid men are fundamentally shallow. It’s always the appearance that attracts them. Only then will they take the trouble to discover what’s underneath the surface.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “Not really,” Diana said with a shrug. “It’s just life. And I’m not clever like you. I was always the ordinary one in the family. Thank goodness Tobias saw something in my unpromising exterior. I shall always be grateful to him. I only wish I could have given him the heir he wanted.”

  “I’m sure that wasn’t your fault. He was so much older.”

  “He never blamed me. As you know, he was married twice previously without any children. He believed an illness in India during his youth may have rendered him infertile. Dear Tobias. He was always a reasonable man. There are many gentlemen who would refuse to entertain the notion that the fault was theirs.”

  “Was he … capable?” Minerva asked delicately. Rather a shocking question for a girl of her age, but Minerva had spent a lifetime listening to their mother discuss the successes and failures of equine and canine liaisons.

  “Yes.”

  “You know I’d like to know more about … er … marriage between human beings.”

  “I promise you, Min. When you marry I shall tell you all about it. Mama told me I had nothing to worry about and it was just like animals. That turned out to be rather inadequate information.”

  “Was it terrible? The dogs don’t seem to enjoy it much. Not the females, at least. They seem to be hating the whole business.”

  “To put it delicately, there’s a reason I want to be married again.”

  Minerva’s eyes widened and she nodded silently. “I see,” she said after a moment or so. “Perhaps I can finally understand what you see in Blakeney. I don’t suppose the marriage act requires much in the way of conversation.”

  Considering Diana had spent quite a lot of time over the past year in contemplation of the marriage act with Blake, it was strange that the face—and body—this exchange brought to mind was not that of the marquis. She envisioned a taller, less exquisite figure. Brown hair, not blond. Not blue eyes but gray, and concealed by steel-rimmed spectacles.

  Peculiar enough to be thinking of the Viscount Iverley in this context. Odder still to be thinking about Sebastian Iverley as he’d been when she first knew him: shabby, unpolished, and inarticulate. And generating a familiar and delicious physical heat. She recalled the ease with which he’d carried her up the path to the temple, the hard strength of his arms around her. The interrupted kiss.

  She shook her head to dispel the inexplicable image and was thrown into a corner as the carriage came to a sudden halt.

  “We’re here,” Minerva cried and wrestled open the door.

  “Impossible,” Diana said. “It’s another ten miles at least.” But Minerva, without waiting for the footman to get down from the box and lower the step, leaped to the ground.

  Diana snuggled under her fur rug. “You’re not even wearing a bonnet. Get back in and close the door. You’re letting the cold air in.”

  “We’re in the middle of a wood.”

  “I told you we hadn’t arrived. Ask John why he stopped.”

  “I’ll go and look.”

  Before Minerva returned, the coachman appeared at the door. “I’m sorry, my lady. There’s another vehicle blocking the road.”

  “An accident?” Diana asked, leaning forward.

  “Don’t know, my lady. There’s nobody here and no horses. Maybe they rode for help.”

  “Can you get by?” Diana felt a chill that had nothing to do with the season. The armed outriders she’d hired for the journey were some miles back, with the baggage coach. The last time they’d changed horses there had been some minor problem with the wheel of that vehicle. Rather than wait for it to be adjusted, she’d elected to travel on ahead. At the time it had seemed sensible to leave the guards with Chantal, and Diana’s jewel case.

  “That’s strange.” Minerva’s voice came from a few yards distant. “There’s someone among the trees. Hey there! Is this your carriage?”

  “Min! Don’t!” Diana cried, tossing aside her blanket and sliding over
to the open door. “Help me down,” she ordered and grabbed the coachman by the shoulders. Her terrified premonition was justified. As she let the servant swing her to the ground, a masked rider emerged from the woods, stopped his horse next to Minerva, and pressed a pistol into the girl’s blond head.

  “Stand and deliver!” he commanded in rough accents. “Bring your valuables here.”

  They were powerless. The coachman had left his gun on the box and even if the footman who rode with him could reach it, he couldn’t fire at the highwayman without endangering Minerva.

  “Don’t shoot!” Diana yelled. “Let me get my purse. There’s not much in it but what there is you can have. John, Matthew, don’t move.” At her command her servants became statues.

  “Don’t try anything funny,” the rogue growled as Diana scrambled back into the carriage. “Any trouble and I’ll shoot the girl.”

  The sight of that cruel gun barrel thrust into Minerva’s curls robbed Diana of rational thought. Sobbing with terror, she wrestled with the strings of her reticule, which became entangled and knotted in her haste. She kept thinking about how she would break the news of Min’s death to her parents. And how stupid it was that her sister might die because all she found, once she ripped open the purse with the strength of the demented, were three golden guineas, a handful of lesser coins, a jar of rouge, and her silver etui. The latter was a pretty thing, large enough to hold a small pair of scissors as well as needles and thread, but worth only a guinea or two.

  Most of the currency she’d brought for travel expenses and vails was in her well-guarded jewel case, along with a fortune in precious stones. Leaving the guards with those valuables had been a foolish choice. What was jewelry compared to her sister’s life?

  “I’m coming back out,” she said in a clear voice, struggling for calmness as she prepared to explain to the robber why such a luxurious equipage yielded so little of worth. And, just in case an opportunity presented itself, secreted the tiny scissors between her thumb and the palm of her hand.

  “That’s right, lady, just bring out your baubles and young miss here won’t get hurt.”

  “You are hurting me!” Minerva said, sounding less frightened than annoyed. She glared up at her persecutor. “Your gun is digging into my head.”

  “Hush, Min!” Diana warned but the complaint seemed to have an effect. The brute pulled his gun upward, away, thank God, from Minerva’s head and pointed it at Diana instead.

  “Look, sir,” she said. “I’m very sorry but I don’t have much money with me. You are welcome to any of it. And my earrings. They are only garnets but I don’t wear my good jewelry when I travel.” As she bent her head to remove the earrings she found further inspiration. “I have jeweled buckles on my boots. They’re diamonds. Worth a fortune!” She assumed they would have long parted company by the time he discovered they were paste. She should have claimed the garnets were rubies.

  She didn’t notice the approach of a horse up the road behind them, until it sped to a gallop. What followed was something of a blur.

  Shouts.

  “Stop, you rogue!”

  More shouts.

  Min screaming as she hit the ground. Two horses thrashing about. Diana’s servants coming to life and joining the melee.

  By the time Diana had a grasp on the situation, the highwayman had galloped off as though pursued by hellhounds and their savior had swung down from his own mount and was picking Minerva off the ground.

  “Are you hurt?” he asked.

  “I’m fine,” she said, brushing dirt off her clothing. “That was exciting.”

  He turned to face Diana, a tall gentleman in a dust-covered multi-caped great coat. Her reticule dropped to the ground as he strode over and took her nerveless hand in one of his. The other held his own gun, pointing at the ground.

  “It’s all right,” he said in a gentle voice. In the confusion, or perhaps during the final charge to the rescue, he’d lost his hat but his spectacles remained in place.

  “Oh Sebastian,” Diana cried and flung her arms about his neck.

  “Ouch,” he said. “What’s that?”

  “Sorry,” she said and threw her scissors down before tightening her embrace. “Min might have been killed. You saved us!”

  Over refreshments served in Markley Chase’s magnificent scarlet saloon, Minerva and Lady Esther cornered Sebastian on a sofa and pestered him with questions about his dramatic rescue.

  “I suppose,” Juliana Chase whispered to Diana, “I have to be grateful now that Cain invited Lord Iverley to join our party.”

  “I certainly am.”

  “I’m so used to despising the man I find it inconvenient to change my stance.”

  “I hope you will,” Diana said earnestly. “I believe he is a true hero.”

  “Come with me.” Juliana led her to a glass-topped display table in the farthest corner of the room, away from Sebastian and his youthful admirers, and the other gentlemen who stood in front of the fireplace, half listening to the sofa group, occasionally exchanging desultory remarks.

  “These are all Tudor miniatures,” she said, then lowered her voice. “Is it possible you are interested in Iverley?”

  Juliana’s tone of incredulity made Diana smile. “I told you I was grateful to him.”

  “Not more than that? When you all arrived together you clung to his arm as though he were your last hope. I thought I detected a bit more than just gratitude.”

  Not wishing to give Juliana the wrong idea, Diana framed her response carefully. “I like Lord Iverley but I can’t make him out. You’ve known him longer than I. Perhaps you can throw some light on his character.”

  “I’ve told you about the things he used to say to me when I was a bookseller. The man has absolutely no respect for women. He does appear to be changing, but it remains to be seen whether the transformation goes deeper than his wardrobe.”

  “I’ve known men who fail to appreciate that ladies can be anything but ornamental broodmares, but with Sebastian the prejudice seems to go beyond that. Do you know why?”

  Juliana raised an eyebrow at Diana’s unconscious use of the Christian name. “I’ve asked my husband that very question. Cain says Iverley doesn’t talk much about himself but he does seem to have had an unusual upbringing.”

  Diana shifted sideways so she could glance at Sebastian, who was chatting to Minerva with some animation. “He’s a mystery,” she said, shaking her head.

  “You’re looking at him again.”

  “So what?”

  “I’d expect you to look at Lord Blakeney that way. Now he looks jealous. Is that your aim?”

  Diana realized she’d forgotten Blake was even in the room. “Maybe. Thank you again for inviting him. I realize neither you nor Lord Chase has much in common with him.”

  “I quite like Blakeney. I think he’s more intelligent than he shows. It reminds me a little of how Cain used to be, playing the fool to disguise the truth about himself.”

  “Why would Blake do that?”

  “I have no idea, but if you’re going to marry him you’d better find out.”

  Diana wished she felt more enthusiastic about the prospect. To her surprise she was more curious about Sebastian’s unknown past.

  Sebastian was enjoying himself so much he forgot to feel even a twinge of guilt.

  The tale, which lost nothing in Minerva’s increasingly dramatic retellings, seemed a source of unending fascination to the ladies. The younger ones, Minerva and Lady Esther, sat on either side of him on a sofa, pelting him with questions.

  And Diana. After her initial heartfelt and delicious expression of gratitude, Diana let the others do most of the talking but she gazed at him with stars in her eyes. Really, the company of ladies, even in plural numbers, was tolerable when one was the object of their collective adoration.

  As for Blakeney, he slouched against a caryatid that held up the gigantic marble mantelpiece, folded his arms, and scowled.

  Sebast
ian felt ten feet tall.

  The only shadow over his enjoyment of this moment of glory had been Lady Chase’s tiresome insistence that her husband summon a magistrate to take information leading to the arrest and execution of the malefactor. Her bloodthirsty enthusiasm for the gallows, which Sebastian thought excessive in a gently bred lady, made him nervous for the continuing health of his head groom. That useful servant had disposed of his mask and Sebastian’s old topcoat and was now lodged in the Markley Chase stable quarters.

  And now Lady Chase had drawn Diana off to the other side of the room. From the glances the two of them sent his way, he gathered he was the topic of conversation. He hoped their hostess, whom he hadn’t yet had time to butter up, wasn’t turning Diana against him.

  Sebastian also had to endure some cynical looks from Cain and Tarquin, the latter having been persuaded to join the party despite Gloucestershire’s unfortunately rural nature. He wasn’t surprised when his friends, acting in tandem like a pair of Welsh sheepdogs, cut him away from the pack of women and herded him into the library.

  “We’re safe from your cousin here,” Cain said. “But we’d better hurry or my wife will be in to see if I’m showing you our new books without her. And,” he continued with a glare, though Sebastian hadn’t said a word, “don’t forget you are here only on sufferance. You still have some serious groveling to do, and don’t think your so-called heroics have let you off.”

  If Tarquin could have rolled his eyes further they’d have disappeared into his brains. “What a hero! Playing silly games with firearms. Someone could have been hurt.”

  “Neither of the guns was loaded, my groom’s nor mine. There was no danger.”

  “What about your poor groom?” Tarquin asked. “His weapon may not have been loaded but I wager the Fanshawe servants’ were.”

  “I was lucky,” Sebastian admitted, “that the outriders remained with the other coach. I wasn’t sure I could manage the robbery until that happened. The whole business was harder to arrange than I anticipated.”