A Viscount to Save Her Reputation

by Helen Dickson

  ‘I will find him. In the meantime, Miss Walsh will remain with me until her godmother returns from France.’

  Sofia straightened her shoulders and glared at him with defiance, while something that might have been desperation twisted her features as she realised that Lucy might truly have slipped from her grasp.

  ‘I think you forget that her father made me her guardian. Lucy is my responsibility. You cannot simply take her away.’

  ‘I didn’t. She chose to run away.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you must return her to my care, which was what her father wanted. I must insist.’

  Christopher smiled with the ingrained arrogance of a true aristocrat. ‘Insist all you like, Mrs Walsh. Although whatever her father was thinking, he should have known better than to give his daughter in marriage to a man of Barrington’s character. If it is true that he gave you guardianship over her—which I very much doubt—then you forfeited that right when you stood aside and allowed Barrington to enter her bedroom to rape her.’

  Sofia paled and her hand rose to clutch her throat. ‘He—didn’t.’

  ‘No. Thank God she was desperate enough and had the presence of mind to fight back. You failed in your duty to protect her—in fact, I would go as far as to say you colluded with that blackguard to do what he did. Once ruined, she would have no choice but to marry him. When you see him, remind him that he owes me money, that I have documents in my possession that could send him to gaol for several years—and considering your nefarious dealings with Miss Walsh I could have you both thrown into goal.’

  His voice took on a steely edge. ‘Barrington has done harm to me in the past and I let it go unchallenged, but now I would gladly run the blackguard through with my sword or see him ruined and hanging from the end of a rope, so do not think for one minute that any threat of mine is idly voiced.’

  Turning on his heel, he strode to the door, where he stopped and looked back. ‘See that Miss Walsh’s clothes are packed and sent to my address in Hanover Square. She will not be returning to this house.’

  * * *

  After a troubled night’s sleep Lucy awakened. Looking round the unfamiliar room, at first she could not remember where she was, but then the horrific events of the night closed in on her. She felt groggy and her whole body ached as though she had been beaten, from struggling with Mr Barrington and her own tension as she tried to fight him off. Mrs Ward had tended the wound on her shoulder and rubbed witch hazel on the bruises she had acquired. No matter how hard she tried, she could not dispel the disturbing memories from her mind of Mr Barrington’s attack and her flight to Hanover Square in the middle of the night. The vision of him lying across the bed with blood oozing from his wound tormented her. Was he dead? Had she killed him—however accidentally it had been, she had done it. She was to blame.

  * * *

  She was still in bed when Christopher returned from visiting Sofia.

  ‘Christopher! I—I did not expect to see you.’

  ‘I’m glad to see you are awake. I hope you have been comfortable.’

  ‘Yes, thank you. Everyone has been very kind. As you see I am still abed and wondering where my clothes have got to.’

  Approaching the bed, he took a moment to observe her and savour the delicate lines of her face. A light flush mantled her cheeks and her eyes from between the thick fan of lashes watched him keenly as she pulled the bedclothes up to her chin.

  ‘Mrs Ward will have taken them. I’m sure she’ll return them shortly. I’ve just come from seeing your stepmother—I’ve instructed her to have your clothes packed up and sent here.’

  Lucy paled. ‘Oh—you have? And—and did she say anything about Mr Barrington?’

  ‘You can cease worrying. You did not kill him. He soon recovered from the blow you inflicted on him. He’s very much alive and has disappeared to goodness knows where.’

  Lucy’s relief was obvious. ‘Thank goodness. I do not like him, but I would not like to be hanged for his murder. What will happen to him? How will you handle it if you find him? He—he won’t be killed, will he?’

  ‘Lucy!’ Christopher sounded shocked by her words. ‘I don’t understand you. I don’t think you have any idea what we are dealing with. He is a gambler, a seducer and a thief. He is unscrupulous and diabolically cunning. It is a profession he has chosen. But you sound as if you actually feel sorry for him.’

  ‘I—I just do not like violence.’ She sighed deeply. ‘I have put you to a lot of trouble I am sure you could do without.’

  ‘I’m relieved you felt able to come to me and I reproach myself most severely for not coming to your aid sooner. I should have found some way to remove you from that house, but I did not think he would act as he has done.’

  ‘You have nothing to reproach yourself for. Since leaving the academy I have needed a friend, someone I can trust and talk frankly to. I wonder where he is?’

  ‘He’s left his hotel—I went there after leaving your stepmother. I’d like to say he has gone for good and that he will not be troubling you any further, but I can’t do that. I have no illusions with regard to his character. He is a dangerous man who has managed to survive despite everything. He’s not to be trusted and even now he will be planning what form his revenge will take.’

  ‘Do you think he will have left London?’

  He shook his head. ‘My guess is that he’ll be lying low somewhere. I will take you somewhere where I know you will be safe. While ever you are living here with me your reputation is at risk.’

  ‘What? More than it is already? You must have seen the papers. You must know that according to the ton I am not fit to keep the company of the young ladies of polite society. And to add to the shame that we were seen on the terrace together in an intimate embrace, everyone has surmised that we are indulging in a liaison. In other words, I am blacklisted from every society event before I have even started. It makes me furious to find myself caught up in a chain of circumstances over which I have no control.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lucy. It is my fault,’ he said with contrition. ‘I’ve heard the gossip and I am mortified. Please forgive me for my unbecoming conduct. I took advantage of you and it was wrong of me. There is no excuse.’

  ‘And did you have to do that at the ball?’

  ‘Do what?’

  ‘Kiss my hand the way you did.’

  ‘I had no idea we were observed.’

  ‘We were—by those who were leaving the card room at the time. It provoked Mr Barrington even further.’

  His smile twisted with a self-derisive motion. ‘You were fortunate. Had I done what I was tempted to do and kissed you on the lips, that would have provoked an even bigger scandal.’

  ‘Thank goodness you didn’t. How did you do it—win, I mean?’

  ‘You are asking me if I cheated?’

  ‘I suppose I am.’

  ‘Then the answer is no. No one knows what card is given until it is turned up. It might be the ace of hearts or the ace of clubs or diamonds or any other card. It’s knowing what to do with them that counts and being able to read your opponent. There’s a lot of luck in cards as there is in life. You have to believe in luck to get it.’

  ‘But there has to be skill.’

  ‘That, too.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘With time to kill on board ship I spent many hours perfecting that skill. It certainly paid off when I took Barrington on at the tables. I believe he’d been gambling without success for a long time—that he’d lost his touch. For one success there can be a thousand failures.’

  Lucy sighed, relaxing back into the pillows. ‘It seems to me that whatever you and Mr Barrington have in your past that is so terrible, you will not be content until you have destroyed each other. After that disastrous ball I came to a decision, but unfortunately Mr Barrington showed his hand before I could act on it.’

  ‘And what was that?’


  ‘When I came to England my father made me an allowance, which he reviews every year. I have enough to pay for my passage to Paris. Because there are dangers of a young woman travelling alone—especially in a foreign country—I had no wish to travel alone, which was why I approached you. However, yesterday I made up my mind to do just that. I think it’s time I took my life in my own hands. I will also write to my father. I would like to know what he has to say concerning his decision to marry me off to Mr Barrington.’

  ‘Mark Barrington is not unknown here in London. His flamboyant life style and charm and exuberance for life has always been appreciated—although he’s seen as something of a loner, which is why it is such a surprise to everyone for him to suddenly appear betrothed to you. From what you have told me, Aspendale is one of Louisiana’s thriving ranches. As your father’s heir and with the expectation of coming into a handsome fortune, if Barrington married you he would have complete control over your affairs. After his performance at the tables at Skeffington House, he has clearly lost his touch. As an alternative scheme he has decided to marry his way to a fortune—which would not be the first time. But I feel there is more at the back of all this. My concern is for your father.’

  ‘Yes—mine, too.’

  ‘I would advise you to do nothing until you have spoken to your godmother. I believe you are still in danger and I will continue to protect you until she returns to London.’

  ‘That is considerate of you, but I am sure you have more important matters that concern you without protecting me.’

  Lucy’s troubles and her very presence were in danger of making him forget his reason for being in London—mainly selling his beloved ship, the Sea Nymph, and coming to terms with taking on a dukedom. And he knew it would be bound to create a stir of curiosity should it be known she was staying in his house unchaperoned.

  ‘I feel I must dissuade you from travelling to Paris alone. You are right. The dangers that could beset a young woman travelling along are many and to be avoided.’

  ‘There is nothing else for it. I will not go back to that house.’

  ‘No, of course not. I will take you somewhere where you will be safe. I promise you.’

  Tilting her head to one side, Lucy eyed him curiously. ‘You are a very mysterious man, Viscount Rockley. Why are you in London? Why are you suddenly selling off your assets—your ship and your father’s shipping business in Charleston? What secrets are you hiding?’

  ‘There are no secrets—just some matters I prefer to keep to myself.’

  ‘Of course, and I wouldn’t want to pry. But how should I address you—as Captain Wilding or Lord Rockley? I’m not sure, you see, how one should address a viscount, never having met one before.’

  ‘I’m only just getting used to it myself. Christopher will do nicely.’

  ‘And one day you will be a duke?’

  ‘I will on my grandfather’s demise—which I hope is many years away. And what of you? Do you have any other names?’

  ‘As a matter of fact Lucy is short for Luciana. As you know my mother was Spanish. I was baptised Luciana Gabriella. I prefer to be called Lucy. And since you have appointed yourself as my protector, may I ask where you are taking me?’

  Christopher went to sit on the bed, facing her. He dearly wanted to protect her, but he knew that despite all his best intentions, there was a danger that he would do her harm. After a moment’s thought he said, ‘I will take you to stay at Rockwood Park in Surrey—my grandfather lives there. I have to go there shortly and you will accompany me—at least until your godmother returns. You will be perfectly safe there.’

  ‘Won’t your grandfather mind?’

  ‘Not when I explain the circumstances. I’ll leave a message at Lady Sutton’s house telling her where you are. I also thought we would call at the academy on the way down to take a look at that letter from your father—if indeed it was sent by your father. You would recognise his handwriting?’

  ‘Yes, of course I would. Do you think it might have forged by Mr Barrington or Sofia?’

  ‘It is highly probable. Although Miss Brody obviously didn’t think there was anything suspicious about the letter.’

  ‘If the letter had been written on a piece of my father’s personal stationary, she would have no way of knowing he hadn’t penned it himself.’ Lucy rested back on the pillow, her hair a dark halo about her face. ‘Do you have other members of your family in England?’

  ‘I’m the last in the line of Wildings—which is why my grandfather was keen for me not to turn my back on my heritage.’

  ‘What would happen if you did?’

  ‘The estate and title would pass on to some watered-down member of the family—a far-flung cousin that no one has heard of.’

  ‘Did your grandfather have reason to think you would turn your back on it?’

  ‘My father did—when he married my mother. She wasn’t suitable, you see.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Why wasn’t she suitable?’

  ‘The Wildings are a family of aristocratic lineage—until my father married my mother, Grace Tully, the daughter of a poor clergyman. It was a union my grandfather didn’t approve of.’

  ‘I see. Do you have other siblings?’

  His eyes darkened and his mouth tightened when he thought of his sister. ‘I have a sister, Amelia.’

  ‘Is she here—in England?’

  He nodded. ‘She is at Rockwood Park—with my grandfather.’

  ‘Tell me about her. What’s she like?’

  ‘Seven years younger than me and she is adorable.’ His voice was low and husky with emotion as he directed his gaze beyond Lucy. ‘Everyone loves her. She has dark hair and brown eyes. She is beautiful and quietly spoken with a big, generous heart and a large capacity for love.’ Reaching out and taking Lucy’s hand, he looked down, studying it as if it was something very precious. ‘Like you, Lucy, just over three years ago she became involved with Barrington.’

  Lucy stared at him. Her mind was stunned by his revelation. ‘How? I—I mean, how could she?’

  ‘My mother died. I was in the West Indies but set sail as soon as I got the message. Amelia was without a woman’s guidance and my father was distracted by his work. She met Barrington in Charleston and became besotted. My father died of a fever a few months after my mother, which meant she was alone for a whole month before I could get there. Barrington took advantage of her lonely state and her grief and ruined her. As soon as I arrived on the scene and saw what he was doing, knowing of his reputation as a gambler and given to every kind of indulgence known to man, I ordered him off the premises, threatening to shoot him if he as much as came anywhere near Amelia again. He hotfooted it out of Charleston.’

  There was a note in his voice Lucy had not heard before. Gazing at him through the thick fringe of her lashes, she met the piercing eyes. Inwardly she shivered, seeing something ruthless in that controlled, hard silver gaze. She kept perfectly still and tense. ‘What happened to her?’

  ‘Amelia tried to take her own life,’ he answered quietly, ‘in the lake close to our home.’

  He fell silent, looking ahead, wrestling with his troubled thoughts.

  ‘Please don’t feel you have to explain anything to me.’

  ‘I want to. It’s just that it’s difficult to know where to begin. I managed to get to her in time. A gently bred young woman without a care in the world doesn’t suddenly decide to kill herself. She was with child—Barrington’s child. I was relieved my parents were no longer alive to see what had happened to her. I knew that one day when I got my hands on Barrington I would make him wish he had never been born.’

  Looking at his proud, lean face, moved by the pain that edged his voice, feeling momentarily at a loss to know what to say, how to comfort this suffering man, Lucy said, ‘I’m so sorry, Christopher. What a dreadful thing to have happened to
her. It must have been awful for you. What happened to her and the child.?

  ‘What she did that day caused her to lose the child. She has never forgiven herself. I often think that if I hadn’t sent Barrington away she would never have tried to take her life.’

  ‘You mustn’t torture yourself. Considering Mr Barrington’s reputation, you did what you thought was right. But what would you have done had you known Amelia was with child before ordering Mr Barrington to leave? Would you then have insisted that he do the right thing and marry her?’

  ‘I’ve asked myself that many times. It was all such a mess at the time. The answer is I suppose I would have done—if that’s what she wanted—despite the fact that he would have made her miserable and no doubt left her when he found out there was no money. Although had she come into a fortune he would have married her and rid himself of her once he’d got his hands on it. It was seeing Amelia’s fragile state that persuaded me to come to England to take up my inheritance. I was responsible for her. I knew she would recover here. Sadly, what happened to her could not be healed overnight. Three years on and she still can’t forget what happened.’

  ‘Did Amelia blame you?’

  ‘No. She isn’t like that. Until she met Barrington she had gone through life happy because she could not see the unpleasantness all around her. She always believed in the goodness of others. She saw no evil and therefore there was no evil.’

  ‘I can see you have carried the hurt and bitterness round your neck like a millstone since it happened.’

  Christopher’s smile was one of cynicism. ‘Does it show all that much?’

  ‘Sometimes. But you cannot go back through the years and change what has come to pass.’

  ‘I know, but there are some things, Lucy, that cannot easily be put aside. Amelia is still traumatised by what happened to her. Later, I came to realise the deep love she felt for Barrington—a love that was not reciprocated. He saw her as a means to an end and nothing more.’