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

  “We worry about you as well, my dear, but I assure you, your mother and I are both quite well.”

  “All right, Papa, I am very glad to hear that. And now I really must be off.”

  Betsey’s father wrapped his arms around her in a warm embrace, and she kissed him on the cheek before bidding him goodbye.

  There was a chill in the afternoon air as Betsey walked back to the Cublertone’s estate. She wore a gray woolen shawl that her mother had knit for her, and she pulled it tightly about her shoulders now. In spite of the chill, the walk back to the Cublertone’s estate was a pleasant one.

  Betsey walked at a leisurely pace, knowing that she had plenty of time to make it back before she was needed to help Lady Paulina prepare for bed. As she walked, she considered the subject of marriage. Could there possibly be a middle ground between her parents’ love match and the politically advantageous matches made by most aristocrats?

  Chapter 8

  After his meeting with his father, Michael had decided to call upon Lady Paulina again, redoubling his efforts to win her affection. The following weekend, he set out for the Cublertone’s estate on horseback. He could have taken the carriage, but he enjoyed being out in the open air, in spite of the chill.

  When he arrived at the estate, Michael handed the reins to a groom who brought Pepper into the stables. He walked up the front path and was greeted at the door by the butler, who invited him into the drawing room. Michael sat by the fireplace, thinking of what he might say to Lady Paulina in order to hold her attention.

  Try as he might, he could think of nothing more that he might try, and he found himself at a loss when Lady Paulina entered the drawing room a few minutes later. She was accompanied by a chamber maid, acting as chaperone. Michael wondered briefly where her lady’s maid was, but decided that it would be best not to ask about it.

  “Hello, My Lord,” Lady Paulina said, as she entered the room. “It is a pleasure to see you once again.”

  “The pleasure is all mine, My Lady,” Michael responded. It was as though he had memorized a script. He felt a sense of dread rising in his chest as he spoke to her. Perhaps I made a mistake in coming here, but I must try to make this arrangement work, for both of our sakes.

  “Did you ride here, My Lord?” Lady Paulina asked. She seemed to be struggling as much as he was to make conversation. Knowing that riding was the one area in which they seemed to have a mutual interest, Michael latched onto the subject. He felt like a drowning gentleman, clinging to any piece of debris that floated by him.

  “I did, My Lady. The weather was quite fine, and Pepper and I both enjoyed the ride.”

  “I am glad to hear it, My Lord,” Lady Paulina smiled at him in a way that was surely meant to feel warm and inviting, but seemed rather forced.

  Trying desperately to keep the conversation going, Michael began to tell a story about the time he had been thrown from his pony when he was first learning to ride as a child. He had not been badly hurt, and had resumed riding almost immediately, but Lady Paulina seemed terribly frightened as he told the tale. After a few moments, he decided that he had better change the subject.

  “Have you done any riding since your visit to Hillfield’s estate, My Lady?”

  “No, My Lord,” she replied wistfully. “The weather has not allowed for much outdoor diversion until today.”

  “That is true. I thought I would go mad if I was stuck inside the house for one more day. What a happy coincidence that this morning dawned bright and clear.”

  “Yes, I was quite sure that my maid was going to lose her mind if she had to spend one more day shut up in my room with me.”

  “Well, I hope that it did not come to that!” Michael replied, wondering again where Lady Paulina’s pretty maid had gone.

  “No, My Lord, we managed to find ways of entertaining ourselves,” she assured him.

  “Well, I am glad to hear that your maid has not run away to join a circus or some other such nonsense.”

  “No, My Lord, Betsey would never do such a thing. She has gone home to her village to visit her parents today.”

  “I see,” Michael responded, feeling a wave of relief that was entirely disproportionate to the situation. Michael reminded himself again that he was not here to learn more about the household staff, he was here to charm Lady Paulina, whether he wanted to or not.

  Michael attempted to steer the conversation in a number of directions that he had hoped would lead to the discovery of more shared interests. Much to his consternation, he learned that Lady Paulina had no particular interest in philosophy of any kind, and did not much care for reading of any kind.

  She seemed to have some interest in politics, but it was clear that her understanding of the subject matter was extremely limited. Since Michael had little interest in the subject himself, they soon exhausted the topic.

  “May I be frank with you, Lady Paulina?” Michael asked after a quarter of an hour’s worth of stilted conversation.

  “Yes, My Lord,” she replied, sounding surprised by the question.

  “I would like to know more about you,” Michael said, earnestly.

  Lady Paulina fixed her eyes upon his, her gaze searching for the meaning behind his words.

  “What sort of thing would you like to know, My Lord?”

  “Well,” Michael began, “I suppose that I should like to know anything that you might like to tell me.”

  “I am afraid that I shall need a bit more direction than that, My Lord!”

  “It is just that I feel that I know so little about you and it seems that our fathers hope for us to be married, so if that is going to happen, I should like to get to know you first.”

  “I see, My Lord,” Lady Paulina paused, and for a moment she looked resolved, as though she was about to confess some terrible sin. The look passed with a few seconds, and the lines of her face relaxed into their usual soft beauty.

  “I was born at Cublertone estate, eighteen years ago. My mother died when I was eight years old, and ever since it has been just my father and I.”

  “I am sorry for the loss of your mother,” Michael said, feeling sincere sympathy for Lady Paulina.

  “Thank you, My Lord,” she replied. It seemed as though this were a rote statement, repeated from memory, and entirely detached from any true feelings she might be having. Michael wondered if this was actually the case, or if she was still overcome with sadness a decade later. She is truly inscrutable, will I ever break through her walls?

  The visit continued for another hour. Michael found himself looking desperately about the room for anything to talk about that might inspire some sort of connection with Lady Paulina. He asked her about the artwork on the walls, about the history of Cublertone estate, and about the sorts of books she liked to read.

  In each instance, Lady Paulina gave polite but short answers. Her father had chosen the art, and she knew little about it; the history of Cublertone estate dated back to her great-great-great-grandfather who had been granted the estate and title for unknown services to the crown; and Lady Paulina enjoyed reading a variety of books, but was apparently unable to talk at length about any of them.

  Michael was so desperate to break the awkward silence that he was tempted to ask the chamber maid if she had read any interesting books recently. Of course, that would be absurd.

  “Is your father at home today?” Michael asked after an uncomfortable moment of silence. “I should like to speak with him if I may.”

  “He is, My Lord,” Lady Paulina said, sounding relieved. “Shall I send for him?”

  “That would be most kind, My Lady.”

  Lady Paulina walked to the drawing room door and spoke briefly to a maid in the hall. She returned to the drawing room and sat on the settee, smiling prettily. They sat in silence for a few minutes until the Earl of Cublertone entered the drawing room.

  Michael, Lady Paulina, and their chaperone all stood up when the Earl entered the room. The maid curtsied, keeping her eyes o
n the floor, while Michael and Lady Paulina greeted him.

  “Lord Cublertone, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Michael said, shaking the Earl’s hand.

  “A pleasure, My Lord,” the Earl replied. “I hope that you have enjoyed your visit with my Paulina.”

  “Yes, My Lord,” Michael knew that no other answer would be acceptable.

  “Yes, Father,” Lady Paulina said, sounding somewhat reserved. “We have had a lovely visit.”

  “Splendid,” the Earl said, sounding more enthusiastic than his daughter’s response seemed to warrant. Michael supposed he ought not to be surprised about that—clearly the Earl was eager to make the best of the situation.

  “We will be hosting a masquerade ball in two weeks’ time,” the Earl continued, maintaining his tone of enthusiasm. “You must join us, Lord Somerwich!”

  “Thank you,” Michael replied, “I would be honored to attend.”

  “And of course the Earl and Countess of Hillfield are invited as well,” the Earl continued.

  “I am sure they will be most pleased, My Lord.”

  “And perhaps we shall have something to celebrate by then, eh?” the Earl said, smiling at the young people in the room.

  Michael saw a momentary flash of annoyance in Lady Paulina’s eyes, but it passed quickly. She looked down at her hands in her lap and blushed prettily, saying nothing. Michael merely smiled and nodded to the Earl, unsure of what else to say or do.

  * * *

  After the Viscount of Somerwich left, Lady Paulina decided that the time had come to speak to her father. She wished that Betsey were not away visiting her parents today, but she did not feel that she could put it off any longer. Her meeting with the Viscount had done nothing more than convince her that she could not marry him.

  The Viscount seemed to be a perfectly nice gentleman, and he had done nothing to offend her, but Paulina longed for more from her life than a husband she did not openly dislike. Surely Father will understand why I wish to marry for love, won’t he?

  For all of her claims that her father would allow her to follow her heart, Lady Paulina felt extremely nervous as she approached his study that afternoon. She felt dread settling in the pit of her stomach with each step that she took, but she steeled her nerves, and knocked on the study door.

  In the mere seconds between knocking, and hearing her father’s booming voice bidding her to enter, Paulina considered running away. I could be back up the stairs by the time he reaches the door to see who was knocking, he would never need to know that it was me.

  Instead, she took a deep breath, pulled her shoulders back, and walked through the door with her head held high. Her father was sitting at his handsome mahogany desk, reviewing a stack of papers.

  “Paulina,” he said, sounding surprised to see her. “Come and sit.”

  Paulina sat down opposite her father, but did not speak immediately. She held her hands in her lap, and could not help opening and closing them, gathering the fabric of her skirts in bunches. It was a nervous habit that she could not seem to break, though she knew that it creased her gowns and created more work for Betsey.

  “Is there something on your mind, Paulina?” her father asked, sounding concerned.

  Paulina sighed deeply, and looked searchingly at her father. She willed him to be the loving, kind gentleman who had comforted her as a child, and not the stern Earl who would do anything to improve his political prospects.

  “Father,” she said, her voice quiet, “Please…I do not wish to marry the Viscount of Somerwich.”

  “What did you say?” her father asked, his voice was quiet but that did not hide the anger in his tone.

  “I…” Paulina began, stumbling over her words in her nervous state, “I am sorry, Father.”

  “You are sorry?” he asked, incredulously. “I could have sworn that you just said that you do not wish to marry the Viscount of Somerwich. Is that what you are sorry for?”

  Paulina’s head was bowed down, she could not bring herself to look at her father directly. The anger in his voice had escalated, and he was yelling now. Paulina merely nodded slightly, while continuing to look down.

  “You may well be sorry!” her father continued. “I have found the perfect solution to all of our problems, and you would ruin it for some foolish whim?”

  “It is not a whim, Father!” Paulina managed to say, looking up at him for the first time. Tears rolled down her cheeks, but she managed to keep her voice even. “The person I wish to marry—”

  Her father cut her off before she could explain. “The person you will marry, is the Viscount of Somerwich. Your marriage to him will create a powerful political alliance. The fact that he is young, handsome, and charming ought to be more than enough for any young lady to agree. What more could you possibly hope for?”

  “I had hoped that I would love my husband.”

  “Paulina, do not be a fool!” her father yelled in exasperation. “Love is a girlish fantasy, and you would do well to put the idea out of your mind right now!”

  “Father, do you care nothing at all for my happiness?” Paulina said, genuinely shocked by his callous attitude.

  “Of course I care for your happiness!” he shouted, hitting the desk with his palm. “Of course I do, Paulina, how can you even ask that?”

  “You are insisting that I marry a gentleman you know I do not love! How can you say that you care for my happiness if you would do such a thing?”

  “Paulina,” her father said, sounding firm, but calmer now. “You are a young lady, with little experience of the world. You may think that you are in love with some handsome rogue, but I assure you, those feelings can change. Passion does not last, and in the end, it can make a person miserable.”

  “I do not believe that, Father,” Paulina cried. “I cannot accept it!”

  “You may accept it or not, as you choose, but you will marry the Viscount of Somerwich. You may grow to love him in time, or perhaps you may not. In either case, he is a good gentleman who will provide a good future for you.”

  Paulina could not believe the words her father was speaking to her. Can he truly believe such a thing? And if so, what does that mean about his own marriage—did he even care for my mother at all?

  “Now, I am sorry that you are upset, Paulina, but my decision on this matter is final. Now, let us speak of this no more. Good day.”

  The Earl did not wait for a response from his daughter before returning to the papers he had been reading before she arrived. Paulina stood up, working hard to stop herself from sobbing. She was determined to maintain some semblance of her dignity.

  * * *

  When Betsey returned to the Cublertone’s estate that evening, she found Lady Paulina in her bedchamber, sobbing into her pillow.

  “Oh, My Lady!” Betsey cried out when she saw her mistress, “Whatever is the matter?”

  Lady Paulina did not respond immediately, but continued to cry. Betsey walked over to the bed and sat down next to her, gently rubbing her back.

  “There, there, Miss,” she said in what she hoped was a soothing tone of voice. “It is perfectly fine to cry—let your tears out now, and we shall figure out how to fix whatever is troubling you.”

  “Oh Betsey, you are ever so kind! And I have made a terrible mess of my gown, and now you shall have even more work to do. I am terribly sorry!”

  Betsey could not help but laugh at this, “Oh, Miss, you need not worry about your gown! I can manage quite well. I am merely worried about you. Please tell me what is upsetting you so, and perhaps I can help.”

  Slowly and tearfully, Lady Paulina told Betsey about the conversation she had with her father earlier that day. Betsey was not as surprised as her mistress was, but she was sorry to see her so upset. She could think of no way to convince the Earl to change his mind, so she decided that the best thing she could do was to support Lady Paulina any way she could. In the end, she helped Lady Paulina into her night clothes, brushed her hair tenderly, and tucke
d her into bed.

  Chapter 9

  In the days leading up to the masquerade ball, Michael traveled to London to meet some of his old school friends. His mother had suggested that he stay in the family’s townhouse, but he preferred to stay at his club. Even without his father present, the townhouse held too many unpleasant memories for him.

  The Earl of Hillfield’s time in London had always been characterized by wild swings of temper. Michael and his mother had lived in constant anxiety during those months when Parliament was sitting—never sure of what to expect when the Earl returned home each evening.