A Viscount to Save Her Reputation

by Helen Dickson

  Lucy sighed and looked out at the passing scenery. She was returning to London and a new life. She had not been alone with Christopher since he had dismissed her so casually—and what had seemed to her brutally—from his life. After she had said goodbye to Amelia in her room, they had partaken of a light meal before setting off and she had heard nothing of the conversation between Aunt Caroline, Christopher and the Duke as they said their farewells. She had, in fact, not seen or heard anything since the incredibly strong arms of Christopher Wilding had pulled her out of the path of a runaway horse. But she was another person since that day, when she had taken part in the excitement of the fair and her enjoyed her newfound maturity of leaving the academy and embarking on a whole new and exciting future.

  But she was deeply troubled by the recollection of her time at Rockwood Park, which she carried in her softly pledged young heart—the one that she had given without thought and, she was certain, irrevocably to Christopher Wilding because she had found herself defenceless against the sheer magnetism and vitality of the man, the man who had struck at her heart, leaving a great emptiness inside her. But she would not spend her life nursing unrequited love. She knew that in time she would forget him...no, not forget him, but at least her heart wouldn’t ache when she thought of him.

  * * *

  The time following Lucy’s departure from his life was a time of adjustment in Christopher’s life. But, by God, how he missed her. He had felt out of sorts ever since she’d left. He threw himself into his work to try to forget her, but it was no use. Her lovely face had a habit of popping up in his mind like a mischievous sprite when he least expected it. In the silence of the night he would lay awake, his chest aching with wanting her, remembering her laughing her musical laughter, holding out her arms to him, how it had felt to kiss her sweet, soft lips. He had a habit of conjuring up her image and concentrating on it, tracing every delectable curve of her face in his mind. Even as the weeks faded into months, the memories of their brief time together did not fade and suddenly the year of waiting for her to return seemed like a lifetime away.

  * * *

  Taking the cross-Channel packet from Portsmouth, Lucy kept her eyes on the receding English coastline, wondering what the next twelve months would bring. She was determined to put the past few weeks behind her once and for all. She had hated leaving Rockwood Park and she felt a pang of loss at leaving Amelia, but it was offset by the thought of the exciting prospect of seeing Europe.

  * * *

  Accompanied by her maid, Aunt Caroline had a full schedule, beginning in Paris. Lucy thought Paris was heaven. Throbbing to its own frenetic rhythm, in her opinion it was the most wonderful, invigorating city on earth. The days were long and relaxed. Aunt Caroline was an extremely likable, socially ambitious woman for whom fashion and society newspapers and magazines satisfied all her literary requirements, whereas Lucy tried desperately to banish all thoughts of Christopher by losing herself in literature written by popular authors of the time.

  Eventually they travelled on to the south of France where they stayed in fashionable hotels or homes of Aunt Caroline’s friends. When the heat was not so intense they would visit local places of interest or simply sit around on sunny terraces beneath trailing bracts of tropical bougainvillaea, surrounded by blood-red geraniums in terracotta pots, drinking cool lemonade. When Lucy could manage it, she dipped her feet in the turquoise waters of the Mediterranean Sea.

  And then it was on to Italy. Lucy fell in love with Florence. Here there was no shortage of young men to dance attendance on her—French, Italian and English gentlemen doing the Grand Tour. But she could not find elsewhere that certain exhilaration she had felt when she had been with Christopher Wilding. Her moods were like quicksilver and unpredictable, but whether she was aloof and frosty or wickedly appealing, she drew men to her side almost without conscious effort. Those who fell victim to her potent magnetism soon learned to their cost that the fascinating Miss Walsh was not so easily caught.

  * * *

  All too soon it was time to return to England. Lady Sutton considered that enough time had passed since Lucy’s unfortunate association with Mark Barrington and that it was time for her to be reintroduced into English society. Much to Lucy’s amusement her aunt could think of little but the coming Season and how she would revel in bringing her out. She was certain that her beautiful goddaughter would be the debutante of the Season. Remembering how it had been when she had left London, Lucy wasn’t convinced.

  Her affairs in Louisiana had been settled. As an extremely wealthy young woman, with nothing there for her any more but childhood memories, she had sold the Aspendale ranch. No word had been heard of Sofia and, after what she had done, Lucy wasn’t too concerned about her.

  Lady Sutton’s London home was a large residence on Curzon Street, tastefully furnished and filled with art. She was high up in the social scale and normally a constant stream of friends would visit when she was at home and she entertained on a regular basis, but this did not happen. This did not worry her unduly for she surmised her return had not been circulated. They were having tea in the drawing room. Surrounded by recent newspapers and magazines, Lady Sutton sifted through the invitation cards that had been delivered for various functions. She did note and comment on the fact that they were for minor events and fewer than she had anticipated. She did so wish for Lucy to make what she called a brilliant match and to do that she would vet closely all Lucy’s suitors.

  Pleading her case—and contrary to Aunt Caroline’s decision for her to marry as soon as a suitable beau could be found because, having enjoyed her time in France, where she had loved attending the many social functions continually held in the nation’s capital and had looked forward to attending the same in London—Lucy was in no hurry to wed and didn’t want to look too far into the future. She wanted to delight in the finery and revel in the admiration and the flattery of those who found her appealing, giving no indication to her aunt that at the heart of her resistance were the feelings she still carried in her heart for Christopher Wilding.

  Why did she keep tormenting herself with memories that were better forgotten? Christopher had promised her nothing, given her no assurances beyond the fact that he wanted her. She had tried to force him from her mind since leaving him that day at Rockwood Park. His life did not impinge on hers. But now they were back in London he was the only man she wanted to see. Just the thought of him made her stomach churn and she was amazed that he could still do that to her. She wondered if he ever thought of her. She doubted it.

  ‘I am so looking forward to reintroducing you into society,’ Lady Sutton said, scrutinising one particular gold embossed card that pleased her and gave her hope that things might not be as dire as she had surmised. ‘We can only hope that everyone’s memory regarding your association with that unpleasant Barrington man was of short duration. I wonder what happened to him—where he disappeared to. No doubt Lord Rockley will know since he put him under surveillance. Fortunately you didn’t remain long enough in London to see if you were the topic of any scandal.’

  Lucy was aware how concerned her aunt was, even though she tried to hide it behind a smiling face and encouraging words. ‘I was exposed for just the one night at Lord and Lady Skeffington’s ball—indeed, I still have the scars to show for it—but it was so eventful that I fear it will still be remembered and my reappearance will resurrect the scandal—not that there won’t have been others in the meantime, but society does seem to thrive on gossip. Perhaps that’s the reason why your visitors are few.’

  ‘Lady Beckwith indicated as much when she came to call, being the inquisitive sort, hoping to get a glimpse of this flighty young woman who’d garnered so much interest on her first outing into society—betrothed to one man and seen kissing another—so she could spread the gossip. I made a point of avoiding her. It was my hope that what happened that night would have been forgotten. It would appear that it has not, so
I shall have to suffer the slights of society’s narrow-minded hypocrisy. But how dare they presume to criticise me when their own lives are dripping with indiscretions?’

  ‘It might not be as bad as you imagine, Lucy.’

  ‘I truly hope not—for your sake. I am not unaware of the upset that unfortunate affair has caused you, Aunt Caroline, but none of it was of my doing. The guilty parties appear to have escaped without as much as a blemish, whereas I have been left to shoulder the blame. But I intend to enjoy myself and I will snap my fingers at those who show their disapproval of me.’

  ‘I agree. There is nothing to be done about that, but you have the spirit to endure what they will put you through if they have a mind. I am determined that before the Season is over you will be engaged to a marquess or a duke.’

  ‘You set your stakes high, Aunt Caroline.’

  ‘Of course. I have high standards. None but the highest in the land for my beautiful goddaughter.’

  ‘I would rather be happy with a pauper than miserable married to a marquess.’

  ‘I would not see you marry anyone you cannot love, Lucy. I see we have an invitation to attend the Wilmingtons’ ball in two weeks so things might not be as dire as we thought. Lord and Lady Wilmington’s affairs are always popular. Everyone who is important will be there so it will be a complete crush, which might be to our advantage.’

  * * *

  To alleviate the tedium of the days leading up to the Wilmington ball, they often drove through Hyde Park, which was a rendezvous for fashion and beauty. Lucy was a new distraction, drawing the admiring, hopeful eyes of several dashing young males displaying their prowess on high-spirited horses, but few approached her. Today the park seemed to glow with light and gaiety and vibrant colour. They halted the carriage to greet an acquaintance of Aunt Caroline, an elderly lady shielding her face from the sun with a gaily painted parasol. Lucy was introduced and Aunt Caroline left the carriage to sit with her to exchange pleasantries. Left alone, Lucy let her eyes stray beyond the carriage and alight on a lady and gentleman riding into the park.

  The smile faded from her lips as she recognised Christopher. Seeing him again, she found he disturbed her. When they had been apart he had intruded into her thoughts more than she liked to admit and seeing him again seemed more disturbing than ever. She had resolved not to be tempted by him, but already her defences were being sorely tested.

  Whatever it was that had caught his attention he looked her way, halting his horse. Across the distance their eyes locked—and those silver-grey orbs struck her to her heart, eyes that had not so long ago melted her. She clutched at her memories as recognition flashed between them at the speed of light. There was no change in his expression, nor did he make any attempt to approach her.

  She stared at him, feeling her heart rate increase, and the sounds of the park muted. Colour flushed her cheeks. It was not caused by the heat of the day, but rather the uneasiness and tension within herself. She realised her feelings towards Christopher had not changed. She still loved the flesh and bone of the man and whatever it was that made him the way he was. But she could not allow this to blind her to the fact that he had hurt her once and she would not give him the opportunity to do so again.

  Aware that his attention was directed elsewhere, his companion followed the line of his vision and her face broke into a broad smile. Lucy’s did likewise when she recognised Amelia. Turning to her brother, Amelia said something to him and then she was riding in Lucy’s direction. Lucy noted the dramatic changes in her and wondered a little apprehensively if what had happened to her in the past had left scars that went too deep to be put right. But bringing her horse to a halt at the side of the carriage, Amelia widened her smile.

  ‘Lucy! I cannot believe it is you! You have returned from Europe, I see.’ Her voice was filled with pure delight.

  ‘We returned a week ago.’

  ‘Then you must come and visit us. Christopher is always away on some business or other and I am left alone, craving company.’

  ‘Thank you. I would like that.’

  Urging her horse closer, Amelia launched into a torrent of questions. ‘What was Europe like? I mean to go there one day. How long are you staying in London? I do so hope your aunt is not going to whisk you away again.’

  Lucy laughed. ‘We are done travelling for a while, Amelia, and will be content to remain in London indefinitely.’ Lucy noted the dramatic changes in Amelia in the past year, thinking how elegant she looked attired in a sapphire riding habit, her dark curls exposed from beneath a matching hat set at a jaunty angle. She looked different. There was a certain transformation in her face and she possessed an air of confidence that had been sadly missing when they had met at Rockwood Park.

  Amelia turned and looked at her brother, who was approaching at a slower pace than his sister had done. ‘See, Christopher. Lucy has returned from abroad. Isn’t that splendid? I’ll leave you to catch up while I go and speak to Lady Sutton. Our meeting was brief when she came to Rockwood Park and I would like to become better acquainted.’

  Lucy watched Christopher come closer, her gaze absorbing the sheer male beauty of him. Suddenly she felt the time they had been apart fall away. It was like a dam wall that had contained all the water behind it bursting in a flood and all the feelings she had kept tight inside her burst forth. His bottle-green riding coat clung to wide shoulders that were broader and more muscular than she remembered, and his thick dark hair beneath his tall hat was almost black. His face had an arrogant handsomeness and she noticed the cynicism in those silver-grey eyes and the ruthless set to his jaw that she had obviously been too young to notice before. Elegant, virile and as beautiful as a demigod, he looked into her eyes and gave her a polite bow.

  ‘Lucy.’

  The intimate caress when he said her name sent a tremor down her spine she could not repress. A world of meaning passed between them. But she was increasingly aware of his presence and of the barely leashed tautness she had sensed in him when they had looked at one another across the park. All she could think about just then was being in his presence again and how happy that made her. He was darkly bronzed from the sun and, in contrast, his silver-grey eyes seemed to shine like bright jewels. Just when she had thought she might get over him, that he no longer affected her, he appeared and all her carefully tended illusions were cruelly shattered. He edged his horse closer and looked down at her, frowning, as if uncertain what to say or do next. Lucy drew a deep breath, steadying her nerves and her heart which had started to beat far too fast.

  ‘Hello, Christopher. How are you?’ She was amazed that her voice sounded calm when she was trembling inside.

  ‘I am doing nicely. You look exceedingly well. You enjoyed Europe?’

  ‘Yes—enormously. I was sorry to leave. Our travels were quite extensive and we visited all the conventional places.’

  ‘Tell me what you thought of Italy—Florence is a place I’ve always wanted to visit. It sounds fascinating.’

  ‘There are many who would agree with you. We strolled along the Arno—where Dante met Beatrice and fell hopelessly in love with her. We also visited Pisa, with its leaning tower, and Rome before returning to England. And you? You have become settled at Rockwood Park?’

  He nodded. ‘If one comes from such a family as mine, then one is expected to uphold tradition.’

  ‘Why, you poor thing,’ she uttered with mock sympathy, ‘but somehow I do not think you find it such a trial.’

  He laughed. ‘I dare say I deserve my fate. I have done my adventuring—made mistakes along the way.’

  ‘I think that is not uncommon with most of us.’

  He looked at her with a doubtful frown. ‘I cannot imagine you have made any.’

  She raised her eyebrows and laughed. ‘I am certain I have, but nothing major. I suppose everyone looks back on their lives and thinks—if only.’

>   ‘What a perceptive young woman you have become. Your time abroad has suited you well.’

  ‘Yes, I did enjoy it, but I suppose it was ineffectual. Nothing that has gone before can be changed.’

  ‘And would you?’

  ‘Oh, yes. I would have seen what Sofia was up to when she arrived at the academy to take me away. I should have looked at the letter my father was supposed to have sent. I would probably have seen it was not his handwriting and everything would have been different. Is it business that brings you to London?’

  ‘I do have business affairs to take care of, but they do not absorb me so much than I cannot find time to escort Amelia to this and that and visits to the theatre to see popular melodramas which she cannot get enough of.’

  The tone of his voice was as natural as if they had met the day before and nothing untoward had passed between them. Its very ordinariness struck at Lucy’s heart. His eyes remained fixed on her. It unsettled her, for she had not forgotten how brilliant and clear they were. In a strange, magical way they seemed capable of stripping her soul bare. Every inch of her cried out for him, but her betrayed spirit rebelled.

  ‘Amelia looks very well,’ Lucy said, observing how Christopher’s sister was chatting animatedly to Aunt Caroline.

  ‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘She is very beautiful.’

  ‘I think so. Since I brought her to Rockwood Park her life has taken on another dimension and she is happy. I fear for her sometimes, but she has weathered what happened to her and is stronger because of it.’

  ‘You have heard nothing of Mr Barrington?’

  He shook his head. ‘The man remains elusive, but I watch and wait. I’m sure he’ll emerge from wherever it is he’s hiding eventually. There is a warrant out for his arrest and I still have men looking for him. There’s always a chance that someone will see him and recognise him.’