The Viscount Who Seduced Her (Steamy Historical Regency) Read online

  Betsey sat, lost in her own thoughts for another minute, before she heard the footsteps of someone passing in the hallway and was pulled out of her reverie. Realizing suddenly that she was in danger of being late to dinner, Betsey stood up and began to do the work she ought to have been doing since Lady Paulina went down to dinner.

  Quickly, she picked up Lady Paulina’s daytime clothes and sorted them, putting the gown in the press, placing anything that required laundering or mending in one pile, and returning the petticoats to their placed in a drawer. She refolded the Viscount’s note and replaced it in her pocket before returning everything on the desk to its proper position.

  Her work completed, Betsey hurried downstairs to the kitchen for her evening meal with the rest of the servants. She saw that her brother, Simon, was sitting next to the chamber maid, Grace, who looked tired, but pleased at his attention. Betsey smiled to herself and sat down on the other side of Simon.

  “Hello, Simon,” she said, smiling at him and then at Grace. “Hello, Grace.”

  “All right, Betsey?” Simon asked, looking quizzically at her.

  Could he possibly see the emotional turmoil in which she currently found herself? Simon did know her better than anyone else, but he had never been particularly good at understanding matters of an emotional nature.

  “I am well, thank you. And you, Simon?” Betsey said, keeping her voice as calm as she could manage.

  “I am quite all right,” Simon said. “Thank you for asking. It seems that Grace here is feeling a bit under the weather though. I’ve been telling her that she ought to see Mrs. Campbell about it.”

  “Oh yes,” Betsey replied, glad for an easy topic of conversation. “Mrs. Campbell knows some very effective remedies. I’m sure she will have something to help whatever is bothering you.”

  “I wouldn’t wish to be a bother,” Grace said quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap.

  “I’m sure that you wouldn’t be any bother at all,” Betsey said, kindly. “Mrs. Campbell is always happy to help when needed.”

  Betsey had a fondness for Mrs. Campbell after several years working at Cublertone. The housekeeper had always been kind to her, treating her as something of a surrogate daughter. When Betsey had been sick with a cold her first winter there, Mrs. Cublertone had given her a mixture of honey, brandy, and herbs that had tasted quite vile, but had nevertheless relieved her symptoms.

  She was beginning to feel something of a sisterly affection for Grace as well. When Betsey looked at the shy but pretty young maid, she was reminded of herself nearly a decade earlier. Grace was good at her job, kind to the other servants, and when she worked up the courage to speak, Betsey found her to be funny and insightful.

  Grace said nothing and continued to look at her hands. Betsey felt that this was unusual, even for such a quiet girl as Grace, and was on the verge of asking what was the matter when Simon spoke once again.

  “How was Lady Paulina’s visit with the Viscount of Somerwich today?” he asked, looking pointedly at Betsey.

  Betsey looked pointedly back at her brother. They had not had a chance to speak privately since he had found her after the masquerade ball. This was the first time that he had mentioned the Viscount to her, and she felt color rising in her cheeks. Of course, there was no way that Simon could know about the note that she had received, but his look made Betsey feel as though he could see the note through the fabric of her pocket.

  “The visit went quite well,” she said, keeping her voice as even and calm as she could manage. “Lady Paulina and the Viscount went for a walk in the garden to enjoy the lovely weather. Why do you ask, Simon?”

  “Oh, no particular reason. I am only making conversation, and there is little else to discuss at Cublertone. The Earl is, of course, expecting that the Viscount will propose to Lady Paulina very soon.”

  Betsey merely nodded her head at this, not knowing what else to say.

  “Is there some reason that you are not keen to talk about this, Betsey?” Simon asked, one eyebrow raised. “Has Lady Paulina asked you to keep the details of these visits secret? If she has, I would never ask you to break her confidence, I assure you!”

  Betsey chuckled at this, in spite of herself. It was true that Lady Paulina sometimes confided in Betsey, and they were quite as close as a lady and her maid could be, but there was nothing about her visits with the Viscount that would be worth keeping secret.

  “No, Simon, she has not. I am afraid there is nothing of much interest to report, that is all.”

  “Well, I shall be sure not to tell the Earl your description of the Viscount’s visits. I am sure that he would be most disappointed to know that they are not full of declarations of love and romantic gestures.”

  Simon and Betsey both laughed at this idea, and before long, Grace had joined in with them, in spite of her earlier shyness. Betsey was relieved to see her enjoying herself, and thought it a good sign that she might recover quickly from whatever was ailing her.

  Betsey’s mother had always said that laughter made the best medicine, and hopefully in this case, along with whatever remedy Mrs. Campbell might provide, it would cure Grace. So, Betsey offered to bring Grace to see Mrs. Campbell after all of the servants had finished their dinner.

  When they had finished eating, Betsey and Grace walked across the hall to find Mrs. Campbell talking to one of the cooks in the kitchen. They waited for her to finish, and then she turned around and greeted Betsey warmly.

  “What is it that ails you?” Mrs. Campbell asked kindly, when Betsey told her that Grace had been feeling poorly.

  “Oh, I am sure it is nothing to be concerned about, Mrs. Campbell,” Grace said, sounding nervous. “Only I have been so tired this past week, and…” she trailed off, looking down at the floor.

  “Why don’t you girls come and see me in my room in a few minutes?” Mrs. Campbell asked. “I’ll just finish up here, and then we can talk privately.”

  Grace responded to this proposal with a silent nod, and Betsey, wishing to sound a bit more enthusiastic, said, “Thank you, Mrs. Campbell, that sounds lovely.”

  It was not only that she wished the make up for Grace’s lack of enthusiasm—Betsey enjoyed spending time with Mrs. Campbell. As the housekeeper, she had her own private room, which was not shared with any other servants. Nor was it attached to a mistress’s room like Betsey’s was to Lady Paulina’s.

  Betsey could scarcely imagine the luxury of having her own private room, to decorate as she pleased. She knew that Mrs. Campbell worked hard and deserved all of the benefits of being housekeeper, and she was generous to the other servants. Betsey did not begrudge her the room, but she was eager to see it whenever she could.

  It had been only a few minutes, when Mrs. Campbell gestured to Betsey and Grace to indicate that she was ready for them. They followed her up the back stairs to the servant’s quarters, and down a long hallway to the housekeeper’s personal room.

  Immediately upon entering the room, Betsey could see that Mrs. Campbell had made her mark upon the space. It was not large, nor particularly fancy, but the simple furniture was enhanced by a colorful patchwork quilt on the bed. A piece of lace covered the top of a chest of drawers, and embroidered pillows sat invitingly on the chairs.

  “Now,” Mrs. Campbell said, her tone matter-of-fact. “It is just us ladies, let us speak freely.”

  Betsey smiled at this and nodded encouragingly at Grace, who still looked uncomfortable. Mrs. Campbell gestured to a pair of chairs by a small wood stove, and Grace sat down before answering. Betsey stood behind Grace, allowing Mrs. Campbell to sit across from her patient.

  “Well,” Grace said quietly. “As I said, I have been very tired this past week, and…well…it has been difficult to eat much. My stomach has been rather poorly.”

  “Hmm…” Mrs. Campbell said, looking concerned now. “Stomach feeling poorly? Have you been vomiting?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  “And what about your monthlies?
” Mrs. Campbell asked, just as calmly as if she had asked what Grace had for breakfast.

  “What about them, ma’am?”

  “Have they been regular? Are they ever late?”

  “Oh!” Grace’s cheeks blushed brightly at this, and she looked down at her lap. “They have always been quite regular. I…well, I mean…um…why do you ask?”

  “Come now, let’s not mince words. Is there any chance that you might be in a family condition, Grace?”

  “No, ma’am!” Grace said, sounding shocked. “There is no chance at all, I swear it!”

  “All right, dear,” Mrs. Campbell said, in a more soothing tone than she had used so far. “It’s all right. I just needed to be sure. There is no need to get upset.”

  “I’m sorry, ma’am,” Grace said. “I overreacted. I just wouldn’t want to have a reputation…”

  “Of course not, dear, I understand,” Mrs. Campbell said. Her voice was calm and soothing, but Betsey thought that she detected a hint of exasperation that would only be obvious to someone who knew Mrs. Campbell as well as she did.

  Grace looked up with a smile. “Thank you, Mrs. Campbell. I’m sorry, I know that I was being a bit foolish.”

  “That’s all right, dear. Now, has your stomach felt poorly for the past week as well?” Mrs. Campbell returned to her previous, matter-of-fact tone.

  “Yes, around the same time that I began to feel so tired.”

  Mrs. Campbell asked Grace a few more questions about her symptoms—when they had started, and how severe they had been. She then offered Grace some herbs to brew into a tea that would settle her stomach and allow her to eat more, which she hoped would give Grace more energy and strength.

  Grace thanked Mrs. Campbell for the herbs and stood up to leave. Betsey started to follow Grace toward the door, but Mrs. Campbell said, “Betsey, will you stay for a moment? There is something I would like to discuss with you.”

  “Certainly, Mrs. Campbell,” Betsey said. She bid Grace goodnight, and returned to sit in the chair that Grace had recently occupied.

  Chapter 21

  Michael had managed to pass his letter to Lady Paulina’s maid, and he was almost certain that Lady Paulina had not seen. He thought that he ought to be congratulated on maintaining a calm demeanor throughout the encounter. However, as soon as he had gotten outside, his hands had begun to shake.

  The anxiety that he had suppressed throughout his visit to Cublertone Manor suddenly bubbled up to the surface, and Michael could hold it in no longer. He had considered riding to Cublertone, but was glad now to be traveling home in his carriage, where he need not worry about the laughter that threatened to escape his lips at any moment.

  He would return by night, on horseback, in hopes of meeting the Ice Queen in the garden once again. It was a relief to finally know her true name, Betsey Babington. Betsey—he had never realized what a beautiful name it was, almost as beautiful as she was.

  “Betsey,” he said her name out loud, even though he was quite alone. The sound was pleasant to his ears, and on his tongue. He imagined whispering it in her perfectly formed ear. He imagined her calling him Michael, and a shiver of excitement ran up his spine.

  He hoped desperately that she would meet him in the garden, though he knew that she would be taking a terrible risk in doing so. If she does not come to the garden at the appointed time, I must not blame her. She may be angry with me for asking this of her, but what choice did I have? Michael could not imagine the rest of his life without her—he had to at least try to speak to her once again.

  The ride back to Hillfield Manor was no more than half of an hour by carriage, but Michael felt as though it took many hours. The hours between leaving Cublertone Manor this afternoon, and returning at midnight were bound to be the slowest of his life.

  When finally he arrived at Hillfield Manor, Michael found that he could not settle to any particular activity. His attempts to read, respond to letters from friends, and play a one-sided game of chess all failed to keep his mind off of his upcoming meeting with Betsey Babington.

  Dinner with his parents was a subdued affair, with each person eating in near silence. His mother’s attempts to make conversation were met with coughs and grunts from the Earl. Michael knew that he ought to respond his mother’s questions, but could not bring himself to give more than one- or two-word answers.

  After a few minutes of this, the Countess seemed to give up on small talk, and ate her dinner in silence. Michael felt the smallest pang of guilt at this, knowing that his mother would feel that she had failed to keep the peace in her household once again. But not even concern for his mother could tear Michael away from his thoughts of Miss Babington.

  After dinner he returned to the library to wait for the household to go to sleep before leaving to meet with Miss Babington, that is assuming that she will consent to come to the meeting. He summoned his valet and informed him that he would not need his services that evening, but warned him to say nothing to the Earl or Countess.

  * * *

  “How have you been keeping, my dear?” Mrs. Campbell asked, once Betsey was sitting across from her.

  “I am quite well,” Betsey replied. “And you, Mrs. Campbell?”

  “Well, these old bones do ache from time to time, but I have no cause to complain. But I did not ask you to stay so that we could talk about my aching knees. Tell me what is happening with you.”

  Betsey looked nervously at Mrs. Campbell. There was a part of her that longed to tell her about the Viscount’s note. She still did not know what she ought to do, and she trusted Mrs. Campbell to give her good advice.

  On the other hand, Mrs. Campbell was in charge of all of the household servants, and could have Betsey sacked if she deemed it necessary. Betsey did not truly think that Mrs. Campbell would do such a thing, but would it be worth the risk to tell her?

  After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, Betsey simply said, “Nothing much out of the ordinary, Mrs. Campbell.”

  Mrs. Campbell gave Betsey a searching, skeptical look. “Come now, Betsey, I know you better than that.”

  Betsey could not help but laugh at this. There was no denying that Mrs. Campbell had an uncanny knack for knowing everything that was happening around her. And of course, she did know Betsey better than anyone else at Cublertone, with the possible exception of Simon.

  Realizing that it would be futile to hide her situation from Mrs. Campbell, Betsey decided that she might as well ask for her advice.

  “Of course you do, Mrs. Campbell,” Betsey said once she had stopped laughing. “Still, I cannot see how you could possibly know what is on my mind at the moment!”

  “Well, I cannot claim to know that! But any fool can see that something is worrying you, and I would be willing to wager that the something in question is a romantic entanglement.”

  Mrs. Campbell had been knitting as she spoke, but she looked up from her work and directed her gaze towards Betsey now. She smiled knowingly at Betsey and added, “Am I right?”

  Betsey looked back at her, incredulous. How could she possibly have known? She merely nodded at Mrs. Campbell.

  “No need to look so shocked, dear,” Mrs. Campbell said, with a slight chuckle. “You’ve had your head in the clouds for the past few weeks. And it hardly takes a genius to surmise that when a beautiful young maid has her head in the clouds, there is likely a handsome young man in the picture.”

  “A handsome young gentleman, actually,” Betsey said quietly, looking down at her hands in her lap.

  “Oh,” Mrs. Campbell said, sounding surprised at this turn of events. “Oh, I see… And who might this handsome gentleman be?”

  Betsey looked quickly over her shoulder to make sure that Grace had fully closed the door when she left the housekeeper’s room. Seeing that it was shut tight, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves, and leaned in a bit closer to Mrs. Campbell.

  “First of all, I must tell you that I never intended for any of this to happen. You must be
lieve me on that point, Mrs. Campbell!”

  “Of course, dear,” Mrs. Campbell said, kindly.

  “The gentleman in questions is…” Betsey hesitated even now, but, realizing that she had come too far to turn back, she continued, “The Viscount of Somerwich.”

  She could not bring herself to look at Mrs. Campbell directly. She knew that she would see disappointment in her eyes, and did not think that she could stand it.

  “I knew that it was wrong, but when I saw him, I thought that he was the most handsome gentleman I had ever met, and he seemed so kind! And Lady Paulina seemed quite indifferent to his charms…”