A Viscount to Remember: Regency Romance (Brides of London)

by Joyce Alec

  “Forgive me,” he stammered, feeling more than a little awkward. “I did not mean to upset you, Townend. Pray, do not speak of it if you do not wish to. I will not hold you to it.” Picking up his brandy, he sat back in his chair, wishing he could simply blow away the evident tension that was now between them, as a cloud moves away from the sun. Gruffly, he cleared his throat and tried to think of something to say.

  “There is nothing to forgive.” Lord Townend’s voice was quiet, quieter than Daniel had ever heard it. “It is something that I have carried for some time, Williamson, and have not spoken of it to anyone.”

  “I am sorry,” Daniel replied slowly, looking at his friend, only to discover that he was gazing at the table, a lost look in his eyes. “Why did it not work out as you had hoped?”

  Lord Townend screwed up his face, his eyes squeezing shut. “I could not say,” he replied, his voice a little ragged. “That is the worst of it, you see. We were acquainted, that was all, but I found a fondness and an affection growing for her within my heart that I could not deny. Such a feeling scared me half to death and for some time, I did not want to even admit that my heart was gone to her.” He shook his head, throwing his hands wide as he opened his eyes. “But then I discovered that she had been out walking with another gentleman and that she had accepted his courtship. Before I could speak to her, however, she was gone.”

  Daniel frowned. “Gone?”

  His friend nodded. “She was simply no longer seen in society and when I enquired, I discovered that she had turned away from her life as she knew it. Even to this day, I cannot tell what it was that pushed her away although I fear that it was something to do with this other gentleman. I fear that he had attempted to take advantage and that she…” He shook his head. “I never once had the opportunity to tell her how I felt. It was much too late and I had not taken a hold of the boldness required to speak to her when I had the chance. She was gone. My heart was gone with her. Even when I see her now, it is as though we are strangers.”

  Daniel blinked in surprise. “You see her still?” he asked, tilting his head. “I thought you said she turned from her life as it was.”

  “Yes,” Lord Townend answered bitterly. “She did. For a time, at least. Now, it seems, she has returned to it, although not in all its fullness.”

  Hesitating and aware that further questions might cause Lord Townend yet more pain, Daniel let out his breath slowly before pressing forward. “Might you try to seek her out again? To pursue her and to tell the truth? If you still care for her as you do, then—”

  “I love her!”

  The words seemed to rebound off the walls as Lord Townend, wide-eyed and red-faced, stared at Daniel with utter desperation. It was a state that Daniel had never seen his friend in before and, as such, did not know what it was he should do.

  “I love her desperately,” Lord Townend continued, his voice lower than before. “And it breaks my heart every time I see her and every time she refuses to return my gaze, refuses to speak to me, refuses to even come near me.” Closing his eyes tightly, he thrust one hand into his hair, his head hanging low. “I do not know what it is that holds her back from me for I have tried to converse with her, but she merely turns her head away. It is utter torment, Williamson, and one that I might battle alone.”

  Daniel was almost voiceless with the shock of what Lord Townend had revealed, aware that there was a part of Lord Townend’s life that he had no knowledge of. The inability to help him continued to burn into his mind, his thoughts flying from one thing to the next in the hope that he might find something to say to ease his friend’s suffering. Lord Townend had always been so jolly, so outgoing, and constantly cheerful that he had never once suspected there was a deep sorrow held within. It was more than a little astonishing and Daniel felt himself sink lower into the mire as he fought to say or do even a single thing.

  “I—I am sorry,” he stammered, feeling utterly useless. “I wish there was something I might do to aid you.”

  “There is not,” Lord Townend replied, drawing in a long breath and seeming to regain some of his composure. “I had thought that such feelings might leave me, but as yet, they have not.”

  Daniel shook his head, picked up his glass of brandy, and drained it, feeling it warm his belly and take some of the shock from him. “You have always seemed very contented with life and I have never once suspected that—”

  “I have tried to bury it within myself, but I have never been able to do so completely,” Lord Townend interrupted, beckoning to the footman and indicating the empty glasses. “At least now I might be the one to tell you that if you have even a hint of affection for this young lady, if you believe that you might rub along very well together, then you must grasp at the opportunity with both hands for it may never come to you again in this lifetime.”

  Daniel nodded slowly, still quite astonished by what Lord Townend had revealed. “I understand,” he replied, finding this sober Lord Townend to be something of a conundrum. “I shall do as you suggest.”

  This seemed to satisfy Lord Townend for he nodded sagely and then accepted another glass of brandy from the footman. “I thank you for your willingness to help me, Williamson,” he added as Daniel accepted the second glass. “I wish there was something you might do to remove this torment from me, but I fear there is not. I would tell you more but…” He trailed off, his eyes on the swirling brandy that he moved about the glass. A peculiar smile came over his face as he watched it, leaving Daniel with the unsettling feeling that there was more to what Lord Townend had said thus far, but also aware that his friend did not want to reveal anything else.

  “But it would do no good, I suppose,” he finished, as Lord Townend sipped at his brandy. “You know that I should be very glad to listen to you, however, if there is ever anything more you wish to share.”

  “I do,” Lord Townend replied, his voice and expression now a little firmer. “I do apologize if I shocked you somewhat with that outburst. I did not intend to let anything like that slip from my mouth and yet it did so without intention.”

  Daniel shook his head. “Pray, do not apologize,” he told Lord Townend. “Truly, I was glad to listen.” He raised his glass. “And might I say that I hope, in time, things improve in whatever way they can.” He had not liked to see his friend so upset, hardly daring to imagine what it must feel like to care so deeply for a lady, only to lose her without explanation. And to see the lady in question again and have her refuse to even acknowledge one’s presence must make it almost unbearable.

  Lord Townend smiled ruefully but raised his glass also. “One can hope, I suppose,” he muttered, before throwing back the rest of his brandy and draining the glass completely.

  8

  “Good evening, Lord Williamson.”

  Louisa smiled in greeting as Lord Williamson bowed, clearly happy to see her, given the broad smile on his face.

  “Good evening, Miss Smallwood,” he replied, raising his head. “I do hope you have had an enjoyable day.” His eyebrow lifted, his mouth quirked, and Louisa laughed in response.

  “A most enjoyable day, yes,” she replied as his grin grew all the more. “In fact, I was out walking in the afternoon and came across a wonderful little bookshop. It was utterly charming and within it, I found some excellent new books to read.”

  “Indeed,” he replied, sounding interested. “And were you able to purchase them?”

  Louisa shook her head at his teasing, aware that he was pretending he had not been present so that she might compliment him. “I did not purchase them, in fact,” she answered, a twinkle in her eye. “However, I had an excellent companion who agreed to purchase them for me.”

  “A companion, you say,” Lord Williamson murmured, his eyes darting towards someone over Louisa’s left shoulder. “You do not speak of your companion, Miss Martin, do you?”

  A faint blush climbed into Louisa’s cheeks as she answered, knowing full well that she had enjoyed a wonderful afternoon wit
h Lord Williamson and that even Miss Martin’s evident disapproval had not detracted from it. “No, I do not,” she replied warmly. “I had an excellent gentleman with me, and it was he who purchased the books. I must hope that he knows just how kind I think him to be, and how much I enjoyed being in his company this afternoon.”

  Much to her surprise, Lord Williamson dropped his head, clearing his throat a little gruffly. A smile was still lingering on his face, however, making her wonder if he was a little embarrassed with the compliments she had lain out in front of him.

  “You are very kind, Miss Smallwood,” he told her, glancing towards her. “I also had a most enjoyable afternoon, I must admit. Mayhap we might go to that bookshop together again soon—once you have finished those books, of course.”

  “Of course,” she agreed quickly, her heart fluttering at the hope in his eyes. “I am a vivacious reader, Lord Williamson, so it shall not be too long, I should think.”

  “Excellent.” He gave her another quick bow as though she had done him a great honor. “And before then, I must hope that you will be inclined towards walking with me again? Hyde Park? Or St. James’ Park?”

  Louisa blushed with pleasure, hope flooding her heart as she looked into Lord Williamson’s eyes. “I should like that very much,” she answered, seeing his immediate smile. “In fact, Lord Williamson, I should be glad to go anywhere with you. I do enjoy your company.”

  He blinked, perhaps a little surprised by her honesty, only to incline his head and then look down at her again. “Wonderful,” he said, looking as delighted as she felt. “Mayhap it should be St. James’ Park then, since we have already walked within Hyde Park.”

  “I would like that very much.”

  “Excellent.” Quickly arranging the day and time when they might walk together, Lord Williamson excused himself, saying he could see that there were others who wished to speak to her, and moved away from her side.

  “What a shame.”

  Louisa tensed at once, the smile dropping from her expression immediately as she turned towards Miss Martin.

  “Miss Martin, I have no need of your involvement at present,” she told her companion sharply, not wishing to hear Miss Martin speak ill of Lord Williamson. “I am able to keep matters under control at present.”

  Miss Martin sniffed, her face a little white and her eyes narrowed as she watched Lord Williamson walk away. Still, Louisa did not know what it was about Lord Williamson that Miss Martin seemed to despise so much, wishing that she knew the truth in all its entirety, but believing that Miss Martin would never give her what she wished. If not for the fact that the Season was nearing its end, as well as the fact that her father might well refuse, Louisa would have begged Lord Churston to find her a better, more suitable companion, but as it was, she had to keep Miss Martin by her side. It would not matter for too much longer, however, Louisa considered, for if things continued to improve with Lord Williamson, then she might soon have no need for a companion.

  “Lord Montague seeks to speak to you also, Miss Smallwood.”

  Louisa frowned. “Lord Montague?” She had not set eyes upon that particular gentleman since they had first met almost a fortnight ago. “He is present here this evening?” The musicale evening had around forty guests, by her estimation, but as yet she had not noticed Lord Montague, although that might have been due to the fact that she had only been looking for Lord Williamson.

  “Indeed,” Miss Martin replied, her lips thinner than Louisa had ever seen them. She turned her head away, giving Louisa the impression that this was yet another gentleman that she disapproved of. “I believe he wishes to converse with you.”

  “And you do not think that I should consider him either,” Louisa replied with a heavy sigh. “What is it about Lord Montague that you dislike, Miss Martin? Pray do not tell me that there is rumor and gossip surrounding him, for you know very well what I think of such things.”

  To her very great surprise, Miss Martin took in a long breath and turned to face Louisa, her eyes no longer narrowed and filled with spite but instead holding a measured gaze.

  “I am aware that I have given you a poor impression of my judgments thus far, Miss Smallwood, and whilst I cannot hope that you will listen to me now, I must tell you that I believe Lord Montague is not an appropriate gentleman for you.”

  Louisa wanted to throw up her hands in exasperation, wanted to groan aloud and ask Miss Martin if there were any gentlemen within the ton that she would approve of, but given that she was surrounded by other guests, she knew she could not. Instead, she contented herself by expressing her exasperation in one long, heavy sigh, with a fixed, firm gaze and a slight shake of her head.

  “I am aware that you wish to make your own judgments about such things, Miss Smallwood, but in this matter, I am correct in my warning. Lord Montague does not care for your company, but rather only for his appearance.”

  Louisa frowned. “His appearance?”

  “It will do him well to be seen in the company of a beautiful young lady such as yourself, Miss Smallwood,” Miss Martin answered, although her voice held no intonation, making her speak in a most dull fashion. “If you knew the gentleman better, you would see that he seeks to surround himself with beauty, charm, and good company, but that he cares for none in particular. He will not be the sort of gentleman who considers the future and looks to courtship and matrimony. You have my promise in that.”

  Louisa wanted to throw aside Miss Martin’s comments at once, wanted to disregard them completely, but there was something in her companion’s voice that made her hesitate. There was no anger, no fury, and no evidence of frustration in her eyes or her speech, as there had been when she had spoken of Lord Williamson. Again, Louisa was convinced that there was more to Miss Martin’s dislike of Lord Williamson than she had said so far, but when it came to Lord Montague, Louisa found herself beginning to consider what Miss Martin said.

  “It does not matter, does it?” she answered slowly, seeing how Miss Martin’s eyes flickered. “I do not care to be courted by Lord Montague, for my intentions are towards Lord Williamson.”

  Miss Martin dropped her gaze. “You know that I—”

  “You need not speak of it, Miss Martin, for as yet I have not discovered any truth to the rumors that you speak of as regards Lord Williamson, and therefore have decided to accept his courtship, should he ask it of me,” Louisa said firmly. “Therefore, Lord Montague, whilst I will speak to him, will not gain any attentions from me.”

  Miss Martin let out a long breath, seeming to steady herself. “If I were to guide you towards one of them, Miss Smallwood, then it might surprise you to know that it would be the former,” she said as Louisa regarded her with a good degree of astonishment. “Lord Montague is not the sort of gentleman that anyone with your… requirements should consider.”

  “I thank you,” Louisa murmured, feeling a small stab of sorrow over the fact that she and Miss Martin had never once drawn near to becoming friends. The lady held so much within herself, held so much back and seemed to speak only with dislike and anger towards Lord Williamson that it had driven them far apart from each other. Silently, Louisa wondered whether things would have been different had Lord Williamson not been a part of her immediate acquaintance. “I do appreciate your thoughts, Miss Martin, although I do not appreciate your anger when I do not do as you want.”

  Miss Martin colored a deep scarlet, but her eyes held Louisa’s regardless. “I am only seeking to do what I believe is best for you,” she answered. “After all, have I not managed to seek out a husband for both my first and my second charges? I have done so using my knowledge of the beau monde and in guiding them carefully.”

  Feeling as though she were making a little progress, Louisa let herself frown but only gently, not wanting to push Miss Martin away. “And yet you have given me no reason as to why you believe Lord Williamson is so entirely unsuitable. You have told me that he is a cad but have shown no evidence for such a statement—and, in
deed, I have found none to make your statement true. How differently you have reacted to the news that Lord Montague wishes to speak to me. You have told me outright that he seeks out my company but have given me adequate warning as to his lack of sincere intentions which, I am quite certain, I will be able to find evidence for very soon, if what you say is true. You are not demanding that I stay back from him, or that I not even entertain his company.” She saw Miss Martin’s gaze drop to the ground and fought to keep her voice steady. “Why, then, Miss Martin, is there such evident dislike for Lord Williamson but, for Lord Montague, only a clear warning but no urgency to pull me away from him entirely?”

  Her breath caught as Miss Martin looked all about her, seemingly desperate to land her gaze anywhere but on Louisa’s face. There was a struggle in Miss Martin’s expression, as if she wanted to state the truth but had found it quite impossible to do so. Louisa felt herself growing desperate, wanting to know what Miss Martin was hiding but fearing that she would say nothing.

  “Lord Williamson quite broke the heart of Miss McBride,” Miss Martin said, her voice low and tremulous. “Miss McBride, my prior charge, believed herself in love with Lord Williamson but he turned her away, after having sought to court her for some weeks.” The lady drew in a shaky breath, lifting her head and finally looking Louisa in the eye. “It broke Miss McBride entirely, to the point that she almost made a dreadful scene in the middle of Lord Pottinger’s ball.” She shook her head, passing a trembling hand over her forehead. “Thank goodness we were able to find another gentleman to marry her so quickly.”

  Louisa’s heart had slowly been filling with dread as Miss Martin spoke. She could not quite believe that someone as good and as kind as Lord Williamson could ever behave in such a cold, calculating manner and yet it did, she supposed, make sense. It explained why Miss Martin had such a vehemence towards Lord Williamson and also explained why there were no particular rumors about him that she could find.