How to Train a Viscount (Wedding Trouble, #4)

by Blythe, Bianca

  Real flowers were far superior, even though they hardly competed with the wonders of animals and did not possess the practicality of vegetables.

  “The drinks should be here shortly,” the butler said.

  “Thank you.”

  The butler remained at the door, shifting his legs.

  She glanced at the butler. “You may go now.”

  “Are you certain, My Lady?”

  “Yes.”

  The butler nodded reluctantly and then left.

  ISLA ALLOWED HERSELF a sigh of relief. The butler wouldn’t say anything. He was loyal.

  Still.

  That didn’t change the fact Lord Tremont shouldn’t be here. “I’m afraid Miss Grant is not present. She is donating her crocheted reticules, and Dido is accompanying her.”

  “I did not come to see Miss Grant,” he said.

  “Of course. But Miss Grant is my chaperone, and it is thus essential she be here during our meetings.”

  “Is that so?” His eyes gleamed, and something shuddered in her.

  “I-I” She swallowed hard and then sat down.

  He sat down as well.

  His chair was nowhere near hers, just as her worry was utterly unfounded.

  “You’re correct,” she said finally. “It’s a silly rule. I’m a spinster. I don’t expect you to do anything untoward.”

  Adam frowned.

  No doubt he shouldn’t have come here. There was a vulnerable note to her voice he was certain Lady Isla didn’t mean to display, a tone that meant she was perhaps simply exhausted, but more likely actually upset.

  But he wasn’t a friend.

  He wasn’t a relative.

  He wasn’t even a peer.

  He was a man who paid her money so he would be more successful lying to her friends, her family, her acquaintances.

  And yet she hadn’t seemed happy when she’d left the tea, and she certainly hadn’t appeared happy when she said nothing untoward would happen between them because of her spinsterhood.

  He frowned. “You mentioned multiple times you are a spinster.”

  “Because I am.”

  “You do not look that old.”

  Her eyes widened, and he was convinced he’d said absolutely the wrong thing.

  Then she smiled. “I neglected to tell you it is imperative to never discuss a lady’s age.”

  “Er—right.” He shrugged. “Actually, that’s the case even in non-elite circles.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “And you made an exception with me?”

  “I’m fairly certain I’m supposed to apologize and leave at once.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Giles will be most relieved when you do.”

  “It is good he worries about you,” Adam said, even though the butler’s temperament was frightfully annoying. He was all scowling eyes and wrinkled brow in Adam’s presence, and it did not make Adam feel better to learn he had a calmer demeanor when Adam was not present.

  Still, protection for Lady Isla was good, even if it came in the guise of the person who answered the door and ordered the footmen about. He inhaled. “He is so protective because you are beautiful.”

  Lady Isla’s eyes continued to widen, and he resisted the temptation to stammer and leave abruptly.

  “Was there a particular reason you desired to visit?” Lady Isla asked. Her voice sounded curiously strained. “No doubt you wanted to inquire about the success of the tea and if I had any advice for improvement. I have not yet made a list, but I’m certain I can still be of some help.”

  “That’s not why I came to visit,” he said.

  “No?”

  “I was worried about you,” he admitted. “You seemed withdrawn at the tea.”

  “Oh?” She shrugged. “And you were wondering whether that was a breach of etiquette? I assure you I did answer any questions posed to me.”

  “And you even made some compliments,” he said.

  “Yes,” she said more happily. “It was a great success.”

  “You didn’t tell me your brother would be present,” he said.

  “No?” Her voice sounded strained and high-pitched again. “It must have...not occurred to me to tell you.”

  “I think you didn’t know,” he said.

  “Nonsense. Of course I would know what my brother is doing.”

  “You seemed surprised,” he said.

  She stiffened, and for a moment he regretted pressing her.

  Perhaps in England, perhaps in the English aristocracy, people didn’t press people about things troubling them. Perhaps they just avoided such subjects.

  But Adam only pretended to be a viscount. In his world, people talked about things. Talking had a habit of making them feel better.

  When his sisters had had bad dreams at night, they’d wanted to discuss them, and only then could they fall back asleep.

  “Perhaps you’re correct,” Lady Isla said reluctantly. “But I’m certain he meant to inform me. Perhaps the mail was simply slow.”

  Adam followed her gaze to the silver platter, piled with a single piece of mail, which did not seem to be from the earl.

  “You’d been in that house before,” he said.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  She inhaled. “It’s not important.”

  “If it’s causing you distress, it is important.”

  Her eyes widened, as if he’d given her an unexpected compliment. But it hadn’t been a compliment, it had been the truth.

  “I was once engaged to the Duke of Vernon,” she said.

  This time, Adam felt his eyes widen.

  “So that’s why I’d been in the house before,” she said. “I suggested he have a Brighton house.”

  “Because you like the city,” he said.

  She shrugged. “Yes.”

  Adam’s hands clenched, and his nostrils flared. He’d only fought someone once, and that had been in an effort to stop a fight. This time, he could instigate a fight.

  “He broke your heart,” Adam muttered. “And then you had to go to tea at the house you were supposed to share with him.”

  “He’s my brother’s best friend,” Lady Isla said softly.

  “That shouldn’t change anything,” Adam said, rage thrumming through him. “Why did you break the engagement? He must be terrible.”

  “He—er—broke the engagement,” Lady Isla said. “It was public and terrible, but it’s in the past.”

  “Not if he’s still inviting you to his place for tea with him and his new wife,” Adam growled.

  Lady Isla was living all by herself. Adam was here most days, and she’d never once had anyone call on her, even as she explained to him that was typically what people did. He hadn’t heard Giles speak with anyone at the door. At the ball when he’d first seen her, she’d been sitting with her companion and a group of much older women.

  One couldn’t break an engagement and expect everything to continue as it had before. It wouldn’t.

  “He is a good friend to my brother.”

  “And their friends.” He tilted his head. “You didn’t know the Baron of Braunschweig and his sister, did you?”

  “No.” Isla shook her head.

  “A host or hostess should never force an acquaintance on people,” Adam quoted from Isla’s etiquette book.

  “You remembered,” she exclaimed.

  “My memory isn’t faulty,” he said stiffly. “Just my depth of knowledge.”

  She nodded. “I know. Though to be fair to the duke and duchess, they may have thought they were improving our circle.”

  “Or they wanted less chances to speak with you,” Adam muttered.

  “Yes.” Lady Isla’s face was a curious white color, and Adam immediately regretted his statement.

  “I mean, that’s probably not the reason,” he said quickly. “The baron and his sister seemed perfectly fine. Well, at least his sister did.”

  “Callum didn’t break my heart,” Lady Isla said. “It wasn’t l
ike that.”

  “Then what was it like?” Adam asked. His fists were still curled.

  “My father insisted we marry. We were betrothed as children. It was never his choice or mine, for that matter.”

  “Oh...” Tension eased from Adam’s shoulders. Somewhat.

  He’d read the etiquette book Lady Isla had lent him. He knew men weren’t supposed to go around breaking engagements.

  “It wasn’t horrible,” Lady Isla insisted.

  “A duke is a prize,” Adam said glumly. “The other women must have envied you.”

  “Yes,” Lady Isla said. “They did.” She gazed at him sharply. “But I wasn’t simply at home. My parents both died before I debuted, and Callum and Wolfe were off fighting on the continent. They would have been more content had I stayed in the Highlands.”

  “I’m sorry,” Adam said. “I’m certain you were a wonderful debutante,” Adam said.

  Her shoulders eased and she gazed wistfully. “I was.”

  “And if you’d been free, you could have landed the most eligible bachelor.”

  “Perhaps,” she said.

  Adam was silent, reflecting on the present.

  Being a spinster was less glamorous than being a debutante.

  Adam knew some women expressed a desire to remain spinsters, but normally those women had bluestocking tendencies that made them delight in other work, or elderly parents whom they were happy to care for.

  Isla did not resemble those women. She had no parents, no relatives, save for a brother who had a habit of socializing with her only when in the company of people who had hurt her. Lady Isla’s passions seemed to lie in society itself, but when he’d met her at the ball, she’d been relegated to a smoky corner of the room.

  “So you spent the war in London?” he asked.

  Lady Isla looked down. “I traveled some.”

  There was something odd in her voice, and he gazed up.

  She inhaled. “I’ll tell you something. Something I never told anyone else. Something you mustn’t tell anyone else.”

  His eyes widened.

  “And if you betray my confidence, I’ll tell everyone you’re not a real viscount.”

  “I will never betray your confidence, Lady Isla.”

  “I know,” she settled back in her seat. “I was involved in the war effort.”

  “You fought?”

  She giggled. “Nonsense.”

  “You were a spy?”

  She nodded.

  “You would have been good at it.” Lady Isla was quick and intelligent.

  “I was,” she said, and the smile that had been absent when she discussed her broken engagement appeared on her face again. “There was a group of us. If I hadn’t been betrothed, perhaps I would have declined the position. So it wasn’t all dreadful.”

  “Did the duke know?”

  She shook her head. “No one did. Not even my brother.”

  “I cannot believe the duke didn’t desire to marry you.”

  She looked down. “Thank you.”

  “His wife doesn’t possess your beauty.”

  “She’s bestowed with plenty of intelligence,” Lady Isla said.

  “You’re intelligent too,” Adam said.

  “My father wasn’t a very good man,” Lady Isla said. “I think Callum wanted to break the engagement with me as an insult.”

  “Oh.” Adam mused over the statement. “But your father was dead then.”

  “Yes,” Lady Isla said simply.

  “He should know better than to seek to anger ghosts,” Adam said. “Ghosts do not exist. And your feelings were real.”

  She shrugged. “Thank you. Callum’s brother Hamish attempted to help, but Callum was quite determined.”

  “I see,” Adam said.

  Perhaps Isla had not lost the man she’d loved, but she’d lost her friends and her family.

  Adam admired her passion. Isla hadn’t wanted to retire to Scotland, to lick her wounds in a familiar place.

  She’d still wanted to live her life to the fullest, and it was a shame society made it difficult for her to do so.

  Perhaps he’d been too complacent in his own life. Perhaps this was the first time in his life he was striving to be more, but perhaps Lady Isla had always striven for more.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Isla had said too much.

  She’d never told anyone she’d been a spy before.

  Not her brother.

  Not her companion.

  She certainly shouldn’t reveal her deepest secrets to a man she’d only met a week before.

  And yet, the words had toppled from her mouth easily. She knew his secrets. It seemed only right he should know hers.

  “You are beautiful,” Adam said.

  His voice was stern, and he narrowed the distance between them.

  It wasn’t the first time someone had called her beautiful, but it was the first time her heart had beat with such force at the words.

  She looked away, as if the action could halt the ever increasing speed of her heart, and as if it could cease the rush of blood to her face.

  For a moment he’d looked like he might kiss her.

  There was a strange tenderness in his eyes she desired to sink into, and his face was curiously close to hers.

  But then he seemed to remember himself, and he stepped back. “I’m—er—sorry.”

  She gave a tight smile.

  Of course.

  He was going to leave. He would make some excuse, and then he would go, and then she would be all alone.

  He wasn’t a man who was courting her. He knew her secrets. If he succeeded at feigning to be a viscount, he would do better marrying one of the fresh-faced debutantes who would swoon at the mention of his title, his wrinkle-free face and his stoop-free figure.

  He didn’t need to tie himself to a woman with scandal.

  Her heartbeat quickened. “Would you like me to teach you something else?”

  “I-I” He paused. “I would like to dance.”

  “Dance?” She raised her eyebrows.

  He nodded. “I believe that was on your lesson plan. Section Six: Delightful Dancing.”

  “Oh.”

  “I think it’s appropriate to study that lesson, since you taught me the others so well. The tea was a success.”

  Despite herself, she giggled. Perhaps she was simply eager to think of something else.

  “You already desire to practice for a ball?” she teased.

  “Why not?” His eyes remained on her, and though he most likely didn’t mean anything by his words, she still shivered.

  No doubt she’d caught some cold from her foolish insistence on prolonging her carriage ride.

  “There’s no music,” Isla said.

  “Perhaps we can hum,” the viscount said.

  “Hum?”

  He nodded. “Shall I teach you?”

  “I’m familiar with the process.” Her skin felt hot, and she looked away. He didn’t need to see how he affected her. That would be improper, and Isla had already been sufficiently improper today.

  “Is there a particular dance you would like to learn? Perhaps the quadrille?”

  “The waltz.”

  “You desire to learn the waltz?”

  “It’s suited for two people, isn’t it?”

  “Er—yes.” Her heart seemed unsteady, lingering on the idea of his hands on hers. “But not every ball plays the waltz. It’s not the most efficient use of time.”

  “You wouldn’t want me to not know how to dance it?” he asked.

  “Naturally not,” she said. “But the waltz is an intimate dance. You most likely wouldn’t be expected to dance it anytime soon, even if the musicians play it. A quadrille would be far more useful. Unless, of course, you’re planning to court someone. And then the waltz would most likely be your favored dance.”

  “Is that so?” Something in his eyes glimmered.

  She was speaking too quickly, and he was amused.
/>
  Perhaps he could hear the rapid beat of her heart.

  “I think the waltz is exactly the dance I wish to dance,” he said. “Right now.”

  “Oh.” She blinked.

  Perhaps he was besotted by Miss Braunschweig. She was unmarried and beautiful.

  Perhaps he desired to court Miss Braunschweig straightaway. Perhaps that’s why he’d shown up at her apartment now, even though they hadn’t been scheduled to meet until tomorrow.

  Miss Braunschweig had been quite lovely. Isla knew. She was an expert in all things fashionable, all things beautiful, and Miss Braunschweig met every qualification.

  And she’s younger. She’s never been jilted.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  “I-I.” She swallowed hard and raised her chin. She was Lady Isla. She never stammered. “I merely pondered whether you’d become intrigued by Miss Braunschweig?”

  “Miss Braunschweig?” He blinked.

  “You were chatting most amiably with her,” Isla reminded him. “You would make a handsome couple.”

  “Oh?” Amusement was in his eyes again.

  She frowned. He needn’t appear amused.

  “Does that mean you think I’m handsome?” he asked.

  Oh.

  That was why he was amused.

  Heat soared to her cheeks, even though her cheeks never had the habit of resembling furnaces.

  She froze.

  Am I besotted?

  Her eyes widened. It seemed to matter, far more than it should, what Adam thought of her.

  He had paid her to train him, and even though she hardly needed the money, she would keep her word. She would not break her oath to him, even if he was going to use his skills to court Miss Braunschweig.

  “I will teach you the waltz,” she said crisply, and then, even though it was ridiculous, she began to hum.

  THEY SPUN ABOUT THE room.

  She was beautiful.

  Everything about her was beautiful.

  “I want to kiss you,” he confessed.

  It wasn’t just the sumptuous curve of her lips that inspired the statement, nor was it the curve of her nose, or her wide-set eyes.

  It wasn’t her dark, glossy locks, nor was it her oval face.