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

  “You do not think he would mind?” she asked, incredulous.

  “Well, I do not think that the Earl would be thrilled at the idea, but this sort of thing really is quite common, and I cannot imagine that the Earl would risk his political aspirations for that reason.”

  Betsey pursed her lips disapprovingly at this, but said nothing. It was probably for the best that Simon would not speak to the Earl about this subject. There was really no reason to believe that the Viscount had done anything improper. And even if he has, Lady Paulina has no intention of marrying him, so why should it matter?

  “In any event,” Betsey said, trying to make her voice sound as casual as possible, “It all sounds very uncertain.”

  “I don’t suppose it sounds uncertain to those girls who lost their positions,” Simon snapped back at her, keeping his voice low, but failing to control the disdain in his tone.

  “No,” Betsey said, biting her lip for a second. “I don’t suppose it does. And I’m terribly sorry for them.”

  “They made their choices,” Simon said, returning to his usual, friendly tone. “You ought to save your sympathy for the poor babies they have brought into the world with no fathers and no positions.”

  “I have quite enough sympathy to go around, Simon, as you well know,” Betsey said with a smile.

  “That is certainly true,” Simon smiled fondly at his sister. “You were always nursing some poor creature back to health when we were younger. Do you remember when the Miller’s cat had kittens, and you brought home the runt of the litter?”

  “Of course!” Betsey said, thinking of the tiny, blind kitten she had christened Fluffy, for her soft fur. “I could hardly let Mr. Miller drown her.”

  Simon gave an exaggerated sigh, as if to say that he found this assessment ridiculous, but he smiled at his sister all the same. Betsey knew that he found her childhood love for Fluffy to be endearing rather than foolish.

  “No,” he said, “I suppose you could not let Mr. Miller drown the poor thing, but anyone else would have said good riddance to such a tiny creature.”

  Betsey cocked her head to the side and gave her brother a searching look. What is the point of this line of conversation?

  “If you had been a bit more like everyone else, you might have spared yourself a great deal of pain.”

  Fluffy had been a sickly kitten, in addition to being tiny. Betsey had tried everything she could think of to help her. In the end she had managed to feed her some milk from the family’s goat by twisting up a corner of a rag and soaking it in the milk. Fluffy had suckled the milk from the rag at first, and after a few days lapped it up from a saucer.

  Betsey had been so proud of herself for figuring out how to feed the kitten, and had told her brother, who was ten years old at the time, that Fluffy was going to grow up to be strong, and an excellent mouser. Simon had been kind about it at the time, but could not completely hide his skepticism.

  In the end, Simon had been right. Fluffy had lived on goat’s milk for a time, but had never learned to catch mice or any other prey. She had grown a bit over the course of about six weeks, but not nearly as much as she should have.

  When Betsey awoke to find Fluffy dead one morning, she had been devastated. Simon had comforted her while their father dug a hole in the garden to bury Fluffy. Betsey’s mother had been less sympathetic, telling Betsey that this was merely the way of things and she ought to get used to it. She had not been cruel about it, simply matter-of-fact.

  “You must make sure that you are never the runt in any litter of which you are a part,” Mother had said.

  Remembering all of this made Betsey momentarily sad, but she also had happy memories of Fluffy.

  “I suppose it might have spared me some pain, if I had never brought Fluffy home,” she replied. “But, of course, then I would never have gotten to snuggle with a kitten in my bed. I would have missed the hours of joy I felt playing with her with a bit of rag tied to a string.”

  “Well, I suppose that is true,” Simon sounded bemused by his sister’s words. “But it hardly seems worth it.”

  “Oh, on this point, I am sorry to tell you that you are quite wrong, dear brother,” Betsey smiled sweetly at Simon. “You see, I loved Fluffy, and even though it was hard to lose her, the pain did not take away the joy that I felt while she was alive. It was very much worth it.”

  “Well, I shall just have to take your word for it,” Simon replied, and then looking more serious than he had done so far, he continued. “Just as long as you will not risk eventual pain for a little bit of joy when it comes to the Viscount, or any other high-born gentleman.”

  Betsey pursed her lips and gave her brother a searching look.

  “Simon,” she said, her voice firm, “What, exactly, are you suggesting? Please speak plainly.”

  Simon stared at her for a second and then looked down at his hands, which were in constant motion, lacing and unlacing his fingers. He was obviously nervous about whatever he was planning to say, and Betsey almost felt sorry for insisting that he speak plainly. But she thought that she knew what he was implying, and she did not appreciate it, so she needed to hear what he had to say.

  “I merely thought,” he began, cautiously. “That the maids and serving girls at Hillfield estate—the ones who lost their positions—might have been lured into their immoral behavior by a similar line of thinking.”

  “What do you mean, ‘a similar line of thinking’?” Betsey asked, keeping her voice low to avoid drawing extra attention from the rest of the servants.

  “Well,” Simon continued, seeming unsure of how to explain his thoughts, “It is just that, perhaps…I thought that maybe they thought they could take care of a gentleman such as the Viscount, even though marriage would be impossible. Perhaps they thought that the joy of a clandestine affair would be worth it, even if they were ruined in the end. And I want to make sure that you do not make the same mistake.”

  Betsey stared at her brother. Her mind was racing—how dare he even suggest such a thing! But of course, her mind had been wandering to the Viscount of Somerwich quite often recently. She had tried to convince herself that it was merely because she cared for Lady Paulina’s happiness and future prospects, but she knew in her heart that it was for her own sake that she thought of him.

  Betsey could not deny these feelings in her own mind, but she was certainly not going to admit them to her brother. Simon loved her, and she had always trusted him with her secrets, but he would be horrified to learn of this one, and she could not stand to see the look on his face if he knew. Besides, there is no chance of my acting upon those feelings, so why upset him for no reason?

  “Simon,” Betsey said, her voice firm but quiet, “I promise you that there is no need to worry on that score. The Viscount acted entirely properly. I saw no indication that he might act otherwise. And even if he did, I would never make such a foolish mistake!”

  “All right, Betsey. I am sorry, I did not mean to imply that you would. You are my baby sister, and I worry about you, that is all.”

  “I understand,” she replied, feeling kinder towards her brother now. “But I am five-and-twenty. I am not a baby anymore.”

  “Of course you are not,” Simon agreed, sounding sheepish now. “I do know that, I promise. Elder brothers are just naturally protective of their younger sisters, no matter how grown up or wise they have become.”

  “I suppose I can understand that, although I have never been an elder brother myself,” Betsey said. She began to laugh and Simon laughed along with her.

  The remainder of their breakfast passed quickly and companionably. The Earl of Cublertone and Lady Paulina would be waking up soon and would need help preparing for the day. After a few moments, Simon and Betsey parted ways with smiles, and went off, each to their own responsibilities.

  Chapter 6

  Michael had been called to his father’s study two days after his ride with Lady Paulina. He always dreaded any one-on-one meeting with his
father, who had never hesitated to express his disappointment in his son and heir.

  He could think of no reason why his father should be angry with him now, but that did not mean he should not expect a telling off. As he walked from the library to his father’s study, he considered what this meeting might be about. The only matter of any importance he could think of was the arrangement with Lady Paulina and the Earl of Cublertone.

  He could think of no reason why his father should be upset about that arrangement. He had been polite and welcoming to Lady Paulina at every opportunity. It was true that there had been no spark between them, but that was hardly unusual for an aristocratic marriage. He had done nothing, as far as he knew, that might offend her or cause her to object to an eventual proposal.

  Still feeling as confused about the summons as when he had first received it, Michael arrived at his father’s study and knocked on the heavy oak door to announce his presence.

  “Come in!” His father’s stern voice boomed through the door. Michael took a deep breath, I am thirty years old, I need not worry about what my father might say to me, he reminded himself, not for the first time. Then he opened the door and walked into the study.

  His father was an imposing gentleman. He had once been tall and lean like Michael, but had grown stouter with age. Stout or lean, he had always had a stern-looking face that made some gentlemen feel timid, while others became more aggressive to match him. Michael had always been the former type, but then he had been just a boy. Since reaching manhood, his goal had been to stand up to his father, and so he wore an equally stern expression now.

  “Michael,” the Earl of Hillfield said gruffly, “Have a seat.” He indicated one of the two chairs across from the desk where he was sitting. Looking his father in the eye, Michael approached the desk and sat in the chair his father had not pointed to.

  A look of annoyance crossed the Earl’s face briefly, but he mastered his face after only a second. His tone remained as gruff as ever, but when he spoke he did not indicate any anger right away.

  “I understand that your ride with Lady Paulina was successful the other day?”

  “I suppose it was,” Michael replied, not wishing to overstate anything, thereby setting himself up to disappoint his father once again.

  “You suppose so?” his father asked, sounding irritated by this simple statement. “What does that mean? The meeting with either successful, or it was not.”

  “Of course, Father,” Michael said, working to keep the anger out of his voice. “My apologies for being unclear.”

  “Hmm…” his father sighed, “Well then, let’s try this again. Was it, or was it not, a successful meeting?”

  “Yes, Father, it was a successful meeting,” Michael said, hoping that he sounded more certain of this than he felt.

  “Well, I am glad to hear that, but I must say that I would feel better about the whole thing if you could at least pretend to feel a bit of enthusiasm.”

  Michael looked down at his lap for a moment before responding. He knew from experience that expressing too much enthusiasm for anything would result in his father telling him to calm down and act like a proper Englishman. Too little enthusiasm was generally met with a response such as he had just received.

  In thirty years, he had learned how to find the middle ground some of the time, but he still miscalculated from time to time. Apparently today was one of the times when he was unable to muster the correct level of excitement, and he knew that he must consider his next words carefully to avoid an unnecessary confrontation.

  “There is no need to pretend, I am only sorry that I failed to communicate my feelings,” Michael began, hoping to convey a certain level of confidence. “Lady Paulina and I had a very pleasant ride together. She is beautiful and very well-mannered.”

  “Of course she is beautiful and well-mannered,” his father replied, exasperated. “It is what she is known for. I understand that she is not exactly this season’s original, but that is far less important than you young chaps tend to think.”

  “She is perfectly lovely, whether or not she is the belle of the season,” Michael replied. It was the truth, though he could not bring himself to agree with his father’s assessment of the importance of originality.

  “And what did Lady Paulina think of you?” the Earl asked, his voice quiet, but no less stern.

  “I…” Michael began, and then hesitated, “I do not know, Father.”

  “You do not know?” his father asked, incredulous, “What on earth do you mean? You must know whether she liked you!”

  “She is…extremely proper in every way,” Michael began. “It would hardly be proper for her to tell me that she likes me.”

  “Oh, don’t be a fool, Michael!” His father was raising his voice now, his anger beginning to show. “Of course I know that she did not tell you directly that she likes you, but surely you can tell if a lady likes you? High-born ladies are really no different than tavern wenches, at the end of the day.”

  “What a surprisingly forward thinking attitude, father! Have you told Mother that you think she is no different than a tavern wench?” Michael had spoken out of frustration, without thinking about what he said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted speaking them.

  The look on his father’s face surpassed his usual annoyance or disdain. Fury was etched in the lines of his face. The Earl slammed his fist on his desk and his voice rang out.

  “Damn it, Michael! You know perfectly well what I mean. Lady Paulina either likes you or she does not. Her father is a bloody fool, and I would not put it past him to allow his daughter to marry for love. It is imperative that she find no reason to object to this marriage. So I am asking you once again, does Lady Paulina like you or not?”

  Michael had felt himself flinch when his father yelled, and hated himself for it. He resolved to remain calm, but firm in his response. For reasons he could not quite articulate, he felt that it was imperative not to let his father see that he was upset.

  “As I said, Lady Paulina is not particularly expressive,” he began, in a firm, but even tone of voice. “I have done nothing to make her dislike me, and in fact I have gone out of my way to make myself as appealing as possible to her. She has given me no indication that she does not like me.”

  “So the best that you can tell me is that you are reasonably certain that Lady Pauline does not dislike you?”

  “Well, I would not put it that way, but yes.”

  “That is not good enough. You must ensure that she actually likes you, that she loves you, in fact. The future of our estate depends upon it.”

  “Father, I understand that you wish to expand our holdings to include Cublertone, but surely the estate will survive without it.” Michael was genuinely confused by this statement from his father.

  “Of course the estate will survive, do you think we are destitute?” his father snapped at him.

  “I know that we are not destitute,” Michael said, in the calmest voice he could manage. “That is why I was confused by your assertion that the future of our estate depends upon a marriage to Lady Paulina.”

  His father sighed deeply, a mingled look of pity and disgust upon his face. “Michael, I have tried and tried to make you understand how things work in the real world, and you have never paid any attention!”

  “Well then, please, explain it to me again, Father,” Michael’s voice was curt.

  “Cublertone is a wealthy estate, and as you know it borders Hillfield to the east.”

  “Yes, and if I marry Lady Paulina, then our son will inherit the combined estates and be a very powerful gentleman indeed,” Michael said, wanting to demonstrate that he was not completely naïve. “If I do not marry Lady Paulina, then the estate remains the same as it has ever been. Of course expansion is preferable, but you act as though it is necessary. Why?”

  “Cublertone is also bordered by Colehaven to the north, and Millford to the east,” the Earl said, his voice condescending.


  “Yes, I’m familiar with the local geography.”

  “Do not be clever with me, boy!” Michael’s father yelled, slamming his fist on the desk once again.

  Michael balled up his hands into tight fists and then released them again. He spoke through gritted teeth. “I am sorry, Father. Please continue.”

  “The Earl of Colehaven is young and unmarried, as is the Viscount of Millford. You can be certain that if you do not marry Lady Paulina, one of them will be next in line. And then his son will be a very powerful gentleman indeed, and you, and your sons and grandsons will merely be neighbors to a much more powerful gentleman.”

  Michael stared at his father for a moment, at a loss for words. This thought had honestly never occurred to him. He was perfectly happy with his inheritance as it was, and had never felt the need to expand it. But even he could see that it would be less than ideal for Lady Paulina to marry one of her other neighbors.