The Viscount Meets his Match: A Regency Romance

by Raven McAllan

  “Argh…” Josephine checked they were as yet unseen and brought her heel down on his instep as hard as she could. As he still had top boots on and she wore soft slippers she doubted he felt the pressure, but it did her good. “I say it again, you are the most annoying, infuriating, irritating, damnable person I have ever had the misfortune to meet.”

  “Careful, your impartiality might start to show,” David said with a droll expression. “No, please, do not pucker up. I promise to behave. Look.” They reached the top of the stairs and he rearranged her arm so her fingers rested on his sleeve. “There, we can go and practice being Miss Prim and Proper and Mr. Perfect Escort. Ready?”

  It was becoming a habit to mutter, ‘As I will ever be.’ Josephine curled her fingers into his sleeve and they paced so stately down the stairs she was ready to giggle again. The man might infuriate her, but he amused her in equal portions. She guessed the next few days were about to confuse her. Which David was his true self?

  “Ah, I thought you might have got lost.” Janie Foster appeared from behind the drawing room door, like a jack-in-the-box. “The others have just arrived and Clutterby is about to bring in tea. I suspect you might prefer ale, David?”

  “You suspect right, Godmama.” David ushered Josephine into the room and bowed to the Hansons before he bussed Lydia on the cheek. “Hello, Lyddie, you are looking well.”

  “Thank you.” Lydia turned to Josephine. “Hello, I’ve seen you around, but sadly never had the opportunity to make your acquaintance. Lydia Frewitt.”

  “Josephine Bowie.” They smiled as the teacups were handed around and conversation became general. Apart from a few covert glances at her, and David who sat by her side, her parents generally ignored her. Much to her relief. James and Lydia sat at right angles to her and David, and it seemed a straightforward case that the occupants’ ages divided the room.

  “Shall we take a turn on the terrace?” James suggested once the cups were empty. “Plan tomorrow and try to make some space for dinner?”

  “Good idea.” David stood up. “The others seem settled until the gong goes.” The three older ladies were clustered together, and as they watched, the men got up and made their way out of the room. “The study or the billiards room, I’ll be bound,” David said as the four of them walked out of the long window and onto the terrace. “Luckily there are two billiards rooms, so we won’t miss out if we want a game.”

  “Billiards,” Josephine said with confidence. “For my papa anyway. I think it is his only pastime that doesn’t involve my mama.”

  David raised his eyebrows.

  My runaway mouth.

  “I did not mean that,” she said indignantly. “You know I didn’t.”

  “I do, of course.” He slowed their steps as James and Lydia moved ahead and went down onto the lawn. “It’s that imp of mischief again.” He nodded to where the other two were fast disappearing. “Do you mind if we do not join them? We can plan tomorrow later.”

  “What?” she asked, puzzled. “Oh, tomorrow is fine, and this perfectly respectable. But, why?”

  “Because I want to talk to you, alone but in full sight.” He turned slightly so no one inside could see his face. “Make sure your door isn’t locked when you retire for the night. I’m a darned sight too old to climb the ivy, and I’d bet your maid has found the key for the internal door and used it.”

  “What?” she said again. Good lord, I sound like a parrot. “Used it how?”

  “To lock the door and keep me out. And the tree branches don’t stretch to your room, only mine.”

  That was a statement designed to intrigue. However, before she had a chance to inquire more, a hail from Lady Foster, inside the house, called them back to their surroundings and duties.

  “Will you?’ he asked as they turned to walk back to the house.

  “Yes, all right,” she said rapidly as they climbed the terrace steps to be accosted by Lady Foster.

  “Didn’t you hear the gong?” that lady demanded as they approached the house and the open French window Lady Foster stood by. “A good five minutes ago. Where are the other two?”

  “Ah.” David scanned the garden. “They came in by the far door.”

  Josephine blinked and his eyelid drooped for a split second. Evidently, damage control was in force, just in case.

  “Hmm, well, you better hurry. Freddie Aitken is a stickler when it involves his stomach. Dinner will be at six-thirty prompt. No dressing.” She turned and walked in her usual brisk fashion out of the room.

  “I do hope she doesn’t mean that literally,” David murmured as they followed her. “The thought of all of us in our birthday suits, making sure we do not drop soup on any sensitive areas, does not bear thinking of.”

  Josephine was glad she had not been drinking when he said that.

  Chapter Six

  Josephine’s parents were, to David’s mind, people who did not deserve children. Apart from a brief searching glance from her mama, who proffered her cheek for a very unemotional kiss and whispered something that made Josephine scowl, and a gruff hello from her papa, they ignored her and sat close together on a long, cushioned seat. They were approached by the Hansons and began to chat in low voices.

  David watched Josephine as she straightened her shoulders, looked around the room and, after a brief hesitation made her way toward Lydia, who sat on one of the window seats. He forestalled her, and bowed.

  “Very fetching, my dear. I wonder if you can help me? What is that flower under the bush?” He lifted her hand onto his arm. “Follow my lead.”

  “Pardon?” She swallowed and closed her eyes briefly.

  “Ignore them.” They were the sort of parents any right-minded person would give thanks not to have. “Just pretend they are not here and you are enamoured with me. That you can see or hear no one else when within my vicinity.”

  She coughed and her lips trembled as he steered her toward another window embrasure. “I wonder if you can help me. I’m not up to scratch on my plant recognition. That one.” He pointed toward the garden. “What is it?”

  “A weed,” she said dryly, but so softly that no one else would hear. “Ah,” she said more loudly, “I can’t really see from here. I fear my eyesight is not as good as yours.”

  “Never mind, look at that. Such a pretty bird.” He surreptitiously put his other hand on her wrist and squeezed it in sympathy. “Always appears alert and interested in everything.”

  “What?” She looked up at him in confusion. “Why?”

  “Just nod and relax,” he said in a low voice. “They do not deserve you, nor you them.”

  “I agree.” She nodded and raised her voice. “Yes, you are right, it never fails to amaze me how some creatures are so different to others.” She sighed. “You never truly get used to it, do you? Generally it doesn’t bother me, in fact I prefer it, but on occasion it hits me. They really do not have room in their lives for anyone other than each other.”

  David understood. “Not at all.” He paused before he continued in a normal voice, pitched slightly higher so his words could be heard all over the room, “The differences can be noticeable. The cuckoo, for instance, farms its offspring out as soon as it can and ignores them. Luckily, some other bird takes it in and nurtures it. Some others keep their offspring close until they are well able to fend for themselves. Teach them everything they should know.” Would she get his hidden message? With every moment they spent together he became more and more certain she was the perfect partner for him. Not just the fact his body tightened when she was close and his senses cried out to learn more about why, but also because deep down he knew she wouldn’t bore him, or he, he hoped, her. The problem would be, he understood, to convince her of that. “It is easy to see who is the better parent, and from that learn a lot of what is right and wrong.”

  Josephine sent him a quick glance. “Indeed, I agree.”

  “What would you be?” he asked quietly. “What would you want me to be?” Da
vid almost held his breath. All of a sudden, her answer was the most important reply he had ever needed. He had a deep-rooted desire to hear her reply.

  “I think…” She hesitated and David fancied he could almost see the way she turned various responses over, ready to answer as best she could. He held his breath as he waited.

  “What can you see?” Lady Foster called across the room. “Birds? Anything unusual? Nothing awful, I hope?”

  David cussed in his mind. Just as he thought he might get the chance to discover more about Josephine, Lady Foster foiled him. Although judging by the way Josephine stiffened, perhaps it was not a bad thing. Take it slowly. Four days slowly at least. He turned his head so Josephine didn’t have to. “Not really. Just passing the time.” He watched his companion out of the corner of his eye as she collected herself, gave him a swift and grateful smile and moved so she also faced inward.

  “I’m hopeless at naming plants and so on. I recognize a daisy and a dandelion and not much else,” he added. “Lady Josephine was giving me some tips.”

  “Both weeds,” Lady Foster said in disgust. “I hope you can’t see any down there?”

  “Fear not, Godmama, evidently your lawn is weed free.”

  “Such a lovely garden, it is a joy to spend time discovering something so interesting, until dinner is served,” Josephine responded in a composed voice. She coughed and lowered her voice so only David could hear. “And not be anything other than myself.”

  Lady Foster gave her a searching look. “It behooves us not to ignore anything that matters to us, be it human or of the rest of the world.”

  “Including our stomachs,” David said to lighten the tone. He didn’t want Josephine to become uncomfortable with the innuendo. “I swear there were some interesting aromas emanating from the kitchens earlier. Very tempting.”

  “Ah yes, you men and your need for food at regular intervals. Any minute now to go in, I should think.” Lady Foster narrowed her eyes as she stared at first one of them then the other, as her butler entered and cleared his throat. “Freddie looks ready to start a two-minute countdown.”

  The butler, well used to Lord Aitken, ignored that comment and bowed. “Dinner is served, my lady.”

  “Good show. We won’t stand on ceremony,” Lady Foster declared as she proceeded to organize things to her satisfaction. “David, you take Josephine in, please. I’ll grab Freddie Aitken, or there could well be an undignified scramble.” Within seconds, she nodded. “Right, come along.” She turned on her heel and led the exodus from the room.

  David turned to Josephine and offered his arm. “Shall we? It never does to cross my godmother. She has a long memory, and always gets her own way in the end. It’s much easier to give in immediately, and save yourself a lot of energy and effort.”

  “I am beginning to realize that.” Josephine essayed a swift grin that lit up her face and relaxed her tense expression. “I have come to accept she is quite a character, with an indomitable will.”

  He chuckled. “People soon do. I learned very early on to give in and let her have her way. Or at least not let her know when I went against her edicts. Much less wearing on the nerves. Ah, I believe we are supposed to sit here.” David indicated two empty chairs, held the seat for Josephine and waited until she was settled before he took the place next to her.

  Dinner was a pleasant affair. Whether it was the informal atmosphere and seating, or because there were so few of them, intercourse had to be general. David wasn’t sure which held sway, but conversation was wide and varied, and everyone added their opinion on whatever was discussed.

  By his side, Josephine was at first subdued but as the meal went on and conversation became less stilted, he watched as she gradually relaxed, offered a quip or comment and appeared less stiff. When at one point she leaned forward without any hesitation and calmly but with deliberation contradicted something her papa had said, her matter-of-fact manner made him want to cheer her. With every hour, he admired her more.

  Just admire? It was a sticky question. He took a mouthful of wine and contemplated his emotions. Why her? He had no easy answer. Why now? That was perhaps easier to define. He was at last free to move forward, his people, lands and heritage secure. His mind had begun to roam over the various scenarios that could potentially be part of his future when he was brought up rudely by a sharp dig in his ribs from Josephine.

  “Listen,” she said without moving her lips. “You need to reply.”

  What on earth was she talking about? He looked across the table into James’ eyes. Luckily they had been friends long enough for James to recognize his plea for help.

  “Don’t you think so, David?” James looked at him earnestly. “We need to put our own country in order before we do anywhere else. Parliament, schooling, health. All take priority.”

  Thank goodness for friends who found a way to explain a question they knew fine well you hadn’t paid any attention to. David smiled, wrenched his thoughts back to the present and answered clearly, giving his views without heat. He didn’t want to upset anyone but neither would he compromise his ideals.

  “So you believe in schooling for your workers?” Edward Hanson said. “That it will help your, or should I say your father’s, lands?”

  David nodded, conscious of Josephine’s keen interest in his reply. He ignored the comment about his father’s lands. That was no one’s business except his family’s. Although, perhaps, soon it could be Josephine’s as well. He would explain it all to her if she wanted to know more about him.

  If. Such a tiny word with enormous consequences. Whoever had said ‘if only’ were two of the saddest words in the English language had been correct. David hoped he would never have to use them in a negative manner. Now, though, it was time to show his hand, just a little.

  “I think it is essential,” he replied. “Knowledge is power. I want my estates to be run as efficiently as possible. For that we must be informed. Must know what is best for the land and understand it. I believe education is the key.”

  “You, young man, are very outspoken, but we need to make sure everyone knows their place, eh?” Hanson leaned back in his chair. “A fine line. Can’t do with people thinking they are better than they really are, you know. Where would we be then, eh?”

  David bit back what his instinctive reaction was—to give the man an earful. He began to count to ten under his breath and got to seven before, after one swift glance at his expressionless features, his godmama broke into hurried speech.

  “I trust my godson to do the correct things every time, Edward. One of which is to escort me into the drawing room.” As senior gentleman present, it was the done thing. “Tonight we are not standing on ceremony, but I reserve the right to collar him for that. The port will be passed in there and I intend to have a glass myself.” Her tone dared anyone to comment in the negative. “It is time to relax and not worry about convention or correctness. This is a small party of people who I hope will soon be firm friends.”

  Of course, David thought, amused for the umpteenth time how no one ever dared contradict her. He stood up, walked to the side of her chair and bowed. “My dear, shall we?”

  “We better, I don’t want anyone to think I do not mean what I say,” Janie Foster said in an undertone. “There’s enough stuffy old men who think they can overrule me without me giving them ammunition. How’s your campaign going?”

  Lord, she was incorrigible. “A good general never divulges what he has achieved and what he needs to attain, until he’s secured the lot. I’ll just say slowly, as I intended.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, David watched James hold the back of Josephine’s chair, and the others turn to whoever was nearby, ready to escort, or be escorted into the dining room. Josephine’s parents didn’t seem enamoured with the idea of partnering other people, but he assumed they were much too polite to dissemble. Her mother smiled—if that forced expression could be called a smile—at Freddie Aitken, while her husband went across the r
oom and bowed to Lydia. His face reminded David of that of a particularly disgruntled schoolboy. What a peculiar response from them. Perhaps they had thought small and informal meant they wouldn’t need to pander to such niceties as mingling.

  Lady Foster turned away from the dining room. “That’s sorted some people out,” she murmured as she let David lead the procession from the dining room, along the corridor to the pleasant, sunlit room where an array of drinks had been set out. “I swear that your beloved’s parents will send me to Bedlam before this house party is over. They know the rules.”

  “Which they also know you will disregard if it pleases you.”

  “Well, of course. My house, my house party, my intentions hold sway. But don’t worry, I will behave.”

  David laughed. “May I have that in writing?”

  “Of course not.” Janie did the little pat on his cheek she favored. “Now get me my port and go and rescue Lydia and ask her to get my shawl from the dining room. It’s there on purpose because I thought Bowie might cut up rough and I might need to give someone an easy getaway.”

  David relayed the information to Lydia, who sent him a grateful look before she curtsied to Lord Bowie. “If you will excuse me, my lord?”

  “Of course, my dear.” He looked at David. “Nice young lady, no overenthusiasm there.” ‘Not like my daughter’, his tone inferred. “How are you getting on with Josephine, eh? Any headway?”

  Drat the man. David’s heartbeat sped up as he tamped down his rapidly increasing ire. Lord Bowie had an unfortunate way of riling him without any effort.

  “If at any time I have any information that I decide is in anyone’s best interest to share, I will, at my own discretion, do so.” Good grief, he sounded as if he were pontificating in the House of Lords. “Until then, I will keep my own counsel, and I suggest, my lord, in the interests of a harmonious house party, you do the same.” He bowed in the most punctilious manner. “Let me fetch you a port?”