Return of the Viscount (3 page)

“But it's restful to me, honestly.”

“Very well,” Penelope said, as they both rose. “I'll explain things to Oliver. Maybe he'll go find Lord Blackthorne's room and talk to him. He is . . . sharing your apartments?”

“He is. I made certain he knows I am uneasy about our marriage.”

“But a man assumes . . .” Penelope trailed off again, growing pink.

“I know what a man assumes. But this man was my father's dearest friend. He has offered to give me time.”

“Probably not much time,” Penelope warned. “He's a soldier, after all. Now I must go speak with Oliver.”

Cecilia kept a smile on her face as Penelope left her, then it faded away. How long
would
he wait?

Chapter 2

C
ecilia was almost late to dinner, when usually she was the most punctual one in the house. But she'd paced the study for two hours, the account books not bringing their usual focus, her mind whirling about her dilemma even as she imagined her “husband” exploring her rooms. It was Talbot who gently announced—for the second time—that their guests had already gathered in the drawing room, and dinner was about to be served.

Breathless from hurrying, Cecilia found Oliver leaning against the massive hearth, eyeing Lord Blackthorne with undisguised indifference, which pricked her with sadness. His disheveled blond hair was darker than her own, his eyes a bloodshot gray, his frame lean and gangly with youth. Beneath his brown coat, he wore plaid trousers that set off his dashing red waistcoat. He seemed so young when compared to Lord Blackthorne's military bearing and air of quiet confidence. He
was
young, she reminded herself.

Lord Blackthorne, neatly, conservatively, dressed in dark coat and trousers, stared back at Oliver, nonplussed. She didn't know if she expected him to wear his uniform, but she was relieved he hadn't. Oliver didn't need to be reminded of their days in India—and frankly, neither did she.

Penelope's worried frown cleared upon Cecilia's arrival. “There you are! And aren't we all just starving? Lord Blackthorne must be, after his journey from London.”

“It's not that far from Town,” Oliver said sullenly. “A few hours by horse.”

“The weather and his injury might have affected his travel, Oliver,” Cecilia said. “But why don't you lead the way.”

She was paired up with Lord Blackthorne, who held out his arm, and she placed her hand on it. She could feel the tight, hard muscles of his forearm, and it made something strange swirl around in her stomach. Never had touching a man seemed so fraught with intriguing danger. Releasing him as soon as was proper, she allowed him to guide her chair beneath her.

The table could easily seat fifty people, but they sat together at one end. She wondered if Talbot had ignored the family dining room to make sure that Lord Blackthorne understood the importance of the family he'd married into.

“Sit at Oliver's left, my lord, as our honored guest,” Cecilia murmured.

He nodded, and she slowly let out her breath as he walked away and sat down opposite her. Penelope perched on a chair to her right, her expression fond as she looked at Oliver, then hesitant, perhaps even eager, as she studied Lord Blackthorne. Cecilia wondered what Penelope had said to Oliver because his sullen dark glances were no true indication, and she felt another twinge of sadness. As the earl and host, he might have begun the conversation, but he said nothing, only eating the first course, acting as removed as a little boy.

She saw Lord Blackthorne studying him, and she felt a flare of embarrassment and exasperated tenderness all at the same time. In some ways, Oliver had been more her child than her mother's, especially after the death of his identical twin when they were only children. She touched the locket she always wore, with the miniatures of both her brothers laughing as if to each other.

It took her a long moment to get beyond that memory. “Lord Blackthorne, how was your journey from India?”

“Uneventful, thank you, Lady Blackthorne.”

“The steamships make the journey in only six weeks or so, which is far more pleasant.” She gave a faint shudder. “I remember the six months' journey on sailing ships. My mother had a delicate constitution and spent much of the time in her bunk.”

Oliver casually said, “So, Blackthorne, tell us the real reason you married my sister, sight unseen.”

“Oliver!” Cecilia cried.

Michael had been expecting this, so he wasn't all that surprised. Young Lord Appertan
should
be concerned about his sister—but Michael sensed there was so much more going on. The young man seemed immature and didn't even attempt to hide it. It was hard to believe he was the son of a military hero. But, then again, Appertan's father had not often been a part of his life the last ten years or so.

Her face a pretty pink as if with embarrassment, Cecilia said, “My marriage is none of your concern, Oliver. You weren't my guardian.”

“But I am your brother, and the earl.”

Michael answered honestly, “I married your sister because she asked me to.”

Cecilia winced.

By letter, she had seemed to him to be a woman who did what was necessary, even when it meant marrying a stranger. But she didn't want her brother to know the details? Michael began to wonder who was in command here.

“You're that easily wed, Blackthorne?” Appertan demanded, smirking.

“I had no immediate plans to wed. But I considered your father a friend and mentor. With his death, I wanted to assist your family in any way I could. Frankly, I assumed Lady Cecilia was a plain spinster, who felt she could only attract a suitor with her fortune.”

Lady Blackthorne gasped, Miss Webster covered her lips to hide what was obviously a grin, and Appertan's mouth dropped open before he barked out a harsh laugh.

Michael glanced at his wife apologetically. “You must concede that is a fair assumption.”

“I told you I didn't want to be under the control of my guardian, Lord Hanbury,” she said.

“I admit, I was surprised when I first beheld you,” he said, looking upon her lovely, flushed face.

She seemed more exasperated than angry. Other women might react differently, and he was relieved she was not the kind to take offense easily. It was almost off-putting to meet the woman behind the letters and see if reality could improve upon the sweet, caring disposition she'd shown through words. He wasn't disappointed—he was intrigued, for he sensed depths she'd kept hidden from him.

Miss Webster turned to her. “What did you think your husband would be like?” she asked eagerly. “After all, you felt you knew him well from his letters.”

Michael was very curious to know what Lady Blackthorne had told other people about them.

“I will admit, I did not picture his face,” she began slowly.

She avoided meeting his gaze, to Michael's amusement.

“I just knew he was a kind man, who honored Papa in every way, who was a hero in battle.”

“I am not a hero,” he cut in, ignoring the darkness of memories that so easily welled up inside him. “I did my duty, as did many men.”

Lady Blackthorne stared at him with obvious interest but didn't ask for an explanation. Perhaps she had too many of her own secrets.

“But she
thought
you a hero,” Miss Webster said dreamily. “I found it all so romantic.”

Romantic? Perhaps through a young girl's innocent eyes. It had practically been a business agreement, where Lady Blackthorne received the reward of financial freedom, and he received her gratitude—and the knowledge that he'd assisted the daughter of his late commander. It had been enough for him, but not anymore, now that he'd met her.

“I don't care how romantic it is,” Appertan said in a bored voice. “I don't know you, Blackthorne, and your presence in Appertan Hall offends me.”

“Then Lady Blackthorne and I will remove ourselves to the Blackthorne estate,” Michael said.

As his wife gaped at him, Michael calmly took another spoonful of his oxtail soup. It was really quite delicious after army fare and shipboard provisions.

“Cecilia doesn't even know you!” Appertan answered with outrage. “How could you insist she leave?”

Michael met his gaze. “I am not insisting, Lord Appertan. You are.”

Appertan's gray eyes narrowed, and his lips twitched, but he obviously couldn't refute that. “I would never allow my sister to leave with a stranger.”

“And I don't intend to make her leave her home since I'll be returning to India soon. But I understand that Lady Blackthorne needs time to become acquainted with me, and I intend to give her that time.”

Her flushed face took on a darker hue, and he wondered if she was embarrassed to be discussed so freely—so familiarly. He already knew she wasn't a woman given to standing by while others made decisions about her life, and he admired that.

“Very well,” Appertan said between clenched teeth. “I'll accept that, as long as I never hear Cecilia complain in any way. How long do you plan to remain?”

“My schedule is flexible. Other than visiting my family, there is little I need to do in England.”

“You are so anxious to return to India?” Lady Blackthorne asked. “We experienced much of it as children, including traveling up the country with our father's regiment. It was hot and wet and unpleasant.”

It could be all of that. But was she so unadventurous? he wondered with disappointment. “The climate has its disadvantages, but the views can be pleasant. All of that is of little consequence to me. I am a soldier for the queen.”

“You're not an officer?” Appertan asked, looking curious for the first time that evening.

“I am a noncommissioned officer.”

“That makes no sense.” Appertan shook his head. “I would never want to make things so hard on myself.”

No one answered that, and Michael guessed that Appertan made certain nothing was very difficult in his life. How could one not relish a good challenge? That thought momentarily changed the direction of his thoughts, and his gaze slid to his wife. Now
she
was a challenge.

After several minutes of silence while they continued to eat, Michael said to Appertan, “From what I could see of the grounds during the storm, they look well cared for. Your father would be pleased that you've continued his excellent management.”

He shrugged, lounging in his chair. “The servants know their duties. Whatever else comes up, Cecilia is perfectly capable of handling it. It's not that difficult.”

Michael saw Lady Blackthorne inhale and briefly close her eyes, as if she was embarrassed that Appertan proved his own ignorance. Michael was more and more disturbed every time the young man opened his mouth. He kept remembering the pride with which the late Lord Appertan talked of his son—did he know Oliver at all? Sadness and frustration warred with each other in Michael's mind, and he knew how disappointed his commander would be, how conflicted Lady Blackthorne must feel, torn between the gentle pursuits of a lady, and the practical concerns of her family estate. He'd begun to think she was a woman too used to controlling everyone around her—even himself—but now he wasn't so certain.

“You must have an excellent steward yourself, Lord Blackthorne,” his wife said, “considering that you're hardly ever home. Wait—now I remember that you wrote about your brother handling such duties.”

He couldn't help the way his gaze swept over her. He was feeling possessive, and defensive on her behalf. “We keep in regular contact. But it is nowhere near the size of the earldom.”

Suddenly, he wondered if other people saw him in the same light as Appertan, both of them peers who allowed others to take control. Much as he knew their situations were vastly different, it bothered him, made him wish there was something he could do to help Appertan see the error of his ways.

“No wonder you agreed to this marriage,” Appertan said.

Michael felt the slur, saw Lady Blackthorne give a start and look away with embarrassment.

Michael regarded him impassively. “I did not accept your sister's dowry, nor do I have access to her funds. You can be certain I will not abuse her finances.”

Appertan's contempt seemed to fade into puzzlement, then he shrugged again and started a conversation with Miss Webster about a party they would be attending. Lady Blackthorne finished eating, keeping her eyes on her plate.

At last, Appertan rose and tossed his napkin down. “I'm off to Enfield for the evening.”

Michael was relieved his new brother-in-law didn't ask him to accompany him. Michael might have to call him on his behavior, not a way to win the young man over.

Miss Webster smiled at her fiancé. “I'm sure Papa has already sent the carriage for me.” She looked back at Lady Blackthorne, and said, “But if you'd like me to stay . . .”

His wife smiled. “You mustn't keep your parents waiting, my dear. Have a good evening.”

When Miss Webster and Appertan had gone, Michael sat back down.

Lady Blackthorne, hands on her armrests as if she meant to rise, paused to ask, “Is there something you wish to discuss, my lord?”

“I have no business asking personal questions of Lord Appertan, but I have some for you if you would humor me.”

She dismissed the footmen, and they closed the doors as they departed, leaving the two of them alone again. She carefully drew her gloves back on. Did she wear them all the time, or did she choose this moment to bow to propriety?

After folding her hands in her lap, she spoke calmly. “I'll answer what I can.”

“You married me for access to your funds, but from what I've been able to see, you aren't in London enjoying your freedom.”

“I'm grateful for the favor you did me, and I'm using my financial freedom as I see fit.”

“Taking care of your brother and his estate,” he pointed out.

Her shoulders were stiff with tension, and he guessed she wanted to tell him to go to hell—in a ladylike manner, of course.

“My brother is very young, only twenty years of age. He inherited the title at eighteen, while all of his friends were—and still are—enjoying their youth. He needs to experience the same, just like any other young man.”

“So does his steward report to him?”

“He reports to me.”

“And the lawyers and bankers for such a vast estate?”

“They come to me.”

He steepled his fingers, and he saw her glance at his bare hands. “And this pleases you? Do you plan to continue in this capacity?”