A Vixen for a Viscount: Book 2: Hyacinth - Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet)

by Arietta Richmond

  Kevin was intrigued – the more he heard about the scandal sheet the more unusual it seemed.

  “Is it really that accurate? I haven’t seen the thing, but you’re not the first person to mention it to me.”

  Helmwood reached down beside his chair, and lifted a folded newssheet from the floor. He held it out to Kevin, who took it, curious.

  “Here, have a look.”

  Kevin unfolded it, and located the column, then began to read. The issue in his hands had three articles in the column, and by the time that he was half way through the second one, he wished that he had never begun to read. For the style of the commentary, the flow of the words, was all frighteningly familiar. If he closed his eyes, he could hear Lady Hyacinth’s voice, crisp, amused, and scathing, saying exactly these sorts of things, about people they had seen at recent Balls.

  Was it possible? Could Lady Hyacinth have written these?

  Would she do such a thing, after telling him that her observations were not normally shared with anyone? He could not countenance it, yet the paper in his hand… He swallowed the last of his coffee, and looked up.

  “Most interesting, Helmwood. I see what you mean. Might I have this? There is someone I’d like to show it to.”

  “By all means, old boy, I’ve read that one all through now. There’ll be more where that came from tomorrow.”

  “My thanks. I’m away now, for I’ve some business to attend to. Enjoy your day.”

  Kevin stood, and folded the newssheet carefully, before exiting the club. All the way back to Chester House, his mind tumbled the thought about – if Lady Hyacinth had written these, and deliberately allowed them to be published, then everything he believed about her was made a mockery. He did not wish to accept it. Was not, in fact, willing to accept it, just yet. He could see no option, other than to confront Lady Hyacinth about it. In that moment, he realised just how much he had come to care for her, and how much it mattered to him, that she not have done this in a cold calculated way, lying to him, and everyone else. If she had… then his heart was about to be broken in two.

  <<<< O >>>>

  The evening was going to be terrible, Hyacinth knew it. For tonight she would tell Lord Puglinton of her decision. She had gone over and over her options in her mind, and had always come back to the same answer. She would refuse to marry him, but would agree to keep writing the gossip articles for him. That, at least, would buy her time, although the thought that her words would be used in such a dreadful way horrified her.

  But with time, she could address the other part of the issue. She could find someone else to marry, so that he could never force her to that, in the future. Again, as she thought of it, Lord Kevin came to mind. Oh, how she wished that she could marry him! It would be a delightful solution, one which would not be a hardship. She would still have to hide her writing from him, which would be distressing, but to be saved from ever potentially being forced to marry Lord Puglinton…

  She was foolish to even think of it. He had shown no sign of being interested in formally courting her, and she was quite certain that, when he had offered his help, being asked to marry her was not what he would have had in mind!

  As they entered the grand parlour of Lady Hepplewood’s home, she was thankful, at least, that the evening would not feature dancing. Instead, it was a musical soiree, with a performer who was reputed to be good, but not extraordinary. People milled around, and Hyacinth tried her best to look as if the world was a wonderful place, whilst feeling utterly queasy inside. She made sure that she stayed to the opposite side of the parlour from the door into the room where the performance would occur. When everyone went in, she would have the opportunity, she hoped, to speak quickly to Lord Puglinton, and tell him.

  The odious man was there – she had seen him, and he had given her a mocking half bow from a distance. She was sure that, given the chance to speak to her quietly, he would not be able to resist. So far, however, she had not seen Lord Kevin – which left her feeling a little alone and heartsick. She determinedly ignored that feeling, and concentrated on what she needed to do that night. The sooner she had spoken to Puglinton, the better, for at least then she would know what to do next.

  After what felt like forever, but was most likely only a half hour or less, a footman announced that guests should start moving into the performance room. People moved forward, clusters of friends hoping to find seats together, all of them talking as they went. None of them looked back. Hyacinth stayed where she was, watching.

  As she had half expected, Lord Puglinton moved as if to join the throng, then paused, and looked around. Seeing Hyacinth, he smiled that wolfish smile, and came to her.

  “My dear Lady Hyacinth, I am delighted to see you, as always. Have you been writing? I do so hope so. Have you an answer for me? I find myself impatient – perhaps I will not give you as long as I had thought before….”

  Hyacinth felt more physically ill than she ever had in her life. She swallowed, hating the words that she was about to say, but reminding herself that she was doing this to protect her sisters’ reputations.

  “Lord Puglinton. Yes, I have an answer. I will not marry you,” his eyes glittered with what she thought was anger, but before he could speak, she went on, “but I will write for you, if that is the price of your silence on this matter. We will need to work out an appropriate method for me to send you packets of the articles.”

  She was quivering, afraid that he would not accept her words, that he would, after all, attempt to force her to marry him. He stood, glaring at her, and she refused to let herself shake visibly, no matter how much effort it took. His fists clenched at his sides, and Hyacinth almost stepped back from him in fear.

  “I am most disappointed, Lady Hyacinth. I thought you more sensible than this. Surely, a comfortable life, as my wife, would be more pleasant than a lonely spinsterhood. And it would certainly make it easier for me to obtain your writing.”

  His voice was a low threatening growl, and Hyacinth felt the urge to cast up her accounts.

  “It is my choice, my Lord.”

  “I will accept it – for now. I will expect the first new selection of your writing within the week. Do not disappoint me, or perhaps I will cease to be so accommodating.”

  He gave her a mocking bow, spun on his heel, and went into the performance room, leaving her standing there, alone, staring at the door as it closed behind him. She remained unmoving for a few minutes, until the shaking began to overtake her, then she turned and sought the door to the hallway, the need to escape the room overwhelming.

  Blindly, unthinking of anything but reaching the ladies retiring room, in case she did, indeed, cast up her accounts, she rushed into the hallway at some speed. And almost immediately collided with something, someone, very solid. She looked up, panic stricken.

  “Lady Hyacinth – whatever is amiss?”

  Lord Kevin met her eyes, his full of concern.

  “I… I cannot…”

  She shook her head, and the shaking intensified. He looked around a moment, then took her hand, drawing her after him into the nearest room, and shutting the door behind them.

  It was a study – a simple room, with a desk, some chairs, a couch, and some bookshelves. No candles were lit, and the room was tinted a pale silvery tone by the moonlight which came through the window. A fire burned in the grate, almost down to embers.

  In that light he looked almost stern, and his handsome face was cast half in shadow. She shivered, unsure what to do or say. He still held her hand, and he drew her to the couch, encouraging her to sit. She did, for she had no thought of what else to do. She knew now that her instinct had been right – unless she managed to marry another man, and very soon, it was almost a certainty that Lord Puglinton would break the agreement, and force her to marry him.

  Lord Kevin’s gentle touch on her chin brought her back out of her thoughts. He tilted her face up to him. The warmth of his hand on her skin steadied her.

  “Lad
y Hyacinth, you must tell me what is amiss – for something is obviously very much wrong.” She shook her head in denial – she could not tell him, could not tell anyone. He bent towards her, and for a moment, she had the oddest feeling that he meant to kiss her. Then he stilled, as if thinking. His voice when it came was far harsher than she had ever heard from him before. “Lady Hyacinth, is this… distress… something to do with those articles in the ‘Gossip Gazette’?”

  She froze, swallowing, fear racing through her – how could he know? Frantically, she shook her head in denial, but her expression obviously answered his question. In her already distressed state, she found herself unable to dissemble. Instead, she simply stayed there, waiting for his next words.

  “I see. It does indeed relate to that. You wrote those snippets of scandal, didn’t you? Were they always intended for publication – did you lie when you said that you did not share such things with others?”

  She could not bear it – he thought that she had done all of it on purpose, that she had lied to him! Tears started from her eyes.

  “NO! I wrote them, that much is true, but they were never intended to be published, never intended to be seen by anyone but me. I have never lied to you – well, except for saying that I was not distressed, when I was.”

  <<<< O >>>>

  Kevin released the breath that he had not known he was holding. He believed her. The truth of it was written on her face, as much as the truth of her having written them had been. But that still did not explain how her words had come to be published. As he had asked her the question, he had wondered if he was mad – for it was a very big step to go from a worrying suspicion borne of reading the column, to accusing a lady of scandal mongering. But now… now that he knew part of it, he needed to know the rest, and this was most definitely not the place for it.

  At any moment, there might be a break in the performance, and anyone might stumble upon them – which would leave them compromised, and forced to marry. The small voice in his mind laughed ‘that would not be such a terrible fate’. The thought gave him pause, but he pushed it away – he did not know if she cared for him… He scanned her face – she had stilled, lips half open, her eyes pleading.

  A madness came over him then, and he bent his head to her and brought his lips down on hers. The kiss was hard, full of a longing he had been repressing, yet she did not pull away – on the contrary, she melted against him a little, her lips softening under his. He forced himself to pull back – this was not the time to take advantage of her – no time was! She was in distress and he had… disgust with himself filled him.

  “Lady Hyacinth, we must discuss this further – I need to understand what has happened – but this is not the time or the place to talk. At any moment, someone might discover us together, and then we would be compromised, and likely have no choice but to wed.”

  Her voice was soft, yet the words rang into his mind with great clarity, as they echoed his own previous thought.

  “That would not, by any means, be the worst fate.”

  “I am glad that you view it that way – I would not want you to be utterly horrified by the thought. But enough – I will leave you now, so that you may compose yourself. I will call upon you tomorrow, and we will go for a drive in Hyde Park, where we will be able to speak in some degree of privacy.”

  He rose, and bowed, his mind in utter turmoil, then turned and left her.

  <<<< O >>>>

  Hyacinth stared at the closed door, her fingers rising to touch her lips, her heart beating fast.

  He had kissed her. And he would call on her tomorrow. Her world had gone mad.

  Chapter Twelve

  The following day dawned bright and beautiful, yet Hyacinth found herself miserable. She sat in bed, a new journal in her hands, and wrote – hating herself for doing it, yet knowing that she had no choice. She needed to keep Lord Puglinton at least reasonably happy, so that he would not press her further towards marriage. But she would not stop looking for a way to escape his trap completely. The only thing which made the day seem in any way bearable was the prospect of Lord Kevin calling upon her.

  Would he come, as he had said he would? She certainly hoped so. The thought of him made her pause, and her fingers rose to her lips again, as she remembered the previous night’s kiss. After he had left her in that small study, she had spent some minutes gathering her composure, then slipped out, visited the ladies’ retiring room to tidy her appearance, and then gone quietly to sit at the back of the performance room. The performance had been, as expected, nothing exceptional. Blessedly, Puglinton had ignored her for the rest of the evening.

  Once her writing for the morning was done, she put the journal away, and rang for Sally. She would dress to suit receiving callers, and believe that he would come. What they might discuss when he did, she did not quite know – for, surely, he would want to know more, and just as surely, she could not tell him. Although she found that she wanted to – wanted the relief of having someone to speak to, of the terrible trap that her carelessness had wrought.

  She was, as a consequence, distracted and irritable. Her sisters sighed, and left her alone, expecting that she would recover from whatever had her out of sorts on her own, or would reach a point where she was willing to discuss it with them. By the time that Lord Kevin arrived, she was no closer to a decision on what she might say to him.

  Her sisters watched curiously as she greeted him, and the younger girls giggled a little at his cheerful and friendly greetings to them. They sat in the parlour for a short time, before Lord Kevin turned the conversation in the direction that she had been expecting.

  “Lady Hyacinth, will you grant me the pleasure of taking you for a drive in Hyde Park, to enjoy this delightful weather?”

  Hyacinth swallowed – she wanted to go, yet she knew that he would, inevitably, ask her more about her distress the night before. She could not deny his request without good reason, and, in truth, she did not want to.

  “I would be delighted, Lord Kevin. I will call my maid to accompany us.”

  “I fear that may not be possible – today I am driving the curricle, which has no extra seat.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do not be concerned about propriety – it is a very open carriage, and we will be in full public view at all times. I am sure that there is no cause for concern.”

  Hyacinth thought a moment, then nodded. If she was going to have a conversation with Lord Kevin which even touched on her problems with Lord Puglinton, and her journal, then she did not, really, want Sally to be there to overhear.

  “Let us go then. I will just fetch my bonnet.”

  <<<< O >>>>

  Kevin was acutely aware of Lady Hyacinth beside him as they moved through the streets towards Hyde Park. There was a tension in her, as if she was quivering. With fear? Or something else? He did not know. All he knew was that he wanted to reassure her, to help her. Her words of the previous night had echoed in his mind ever since - that being forced to marry him. if compromised, would not be the worst fate – did she really see marrying him as a positive option? Or not? It could be interpreted either way.

  Once they reached the Park, he slowed the horses to a walk, and turned to Lady Hyacinth. He saw no way to approach the matter delicately – he would have to rely on her general appreciation for blunt truthfulness.

  “Lady Hyacinth – last night… you were most distressed, and you admitted that you had written those gossip pieces, but you stated that they had never been meant to be published. So, I must ask – how did they come to be published? And why were you so very distressed last night? What had occurred?”

  She looked at him, and her expression shifted from one emotion to another, at lightning speed. Fear, sadness, hope, confusion, even anger, all seemed to be there momentarily. Then she turned away with a tiny half strangled sob. He damned the fact that he was driving, for he wanted to reach out and hold her.

  “I cannot tell you.”

  “Why? Given
that I already know that you wrote them, what can possibly be so much worse, that you cannot tell me? You know by now, I most sincerely hope, that I would never do anything to harm you – I only hope to be able to help in some way.”

  She lifted her hand to her mouth, as if to hold in the sobs which escaped anyway. He waited, utterly unsure of what might happen, but hoping that she might honour him with her trust. After a few moments, he passed the reins into one hand, and reached out his free hand to gently touch her arm. She made an odd gasping sound, and then spoke, her voice low and shaky.

  “I do not know that anyone could help. I am trapped by my own carelessness, and there is no remedy that I can see.”

  “Nonetheless, will you tell me? Perhaps I will be able to see some possibilities that you cannot.”

  “I very much doubt that. But… if you can bear to hear of my foolishness, and not castigate me for it, then I believe that I would find it a relief simply to speak of it.”

  “Lady Hyacinth, I cannot imagine you being foolish – and even if that were the case, I would not condemn you for it – we are all fools at some times in our lives. Please, speak, and unburden your worries upon me.”

  “I barely know where to begin. Perhaps where it really starts is more than two years ago, when I first came out into society. At that stage, only Lily, Camellia and I were out – then last year two more of my sisters came out and this year, mother gave in to their insistence, and the final two were allowed to come out, even though they are quite young. But when I first came out, I discovered that those of society are not at all forgiving. My family are all most kind and tolerant – I know that I am very lucky in that way. But the ton did not take well to my sharpness of tongue, and my tendency to say what I truly thought of things. So I learnt not to say things. But it was so very hard. In the end, I found an old journal that I had not touched since I was a small child, and I began to write my thoughts down in it, each morning after a society event. It somehow relieved the sense of pressure that had been created within me, by the effort of not saying those things directly to people. No one else even knew that the journal existed, but it served its purpose.”