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

  Lady Paulina gave her maid a small smile, “That is most kind of you, Betsey,” she said. “Perhaps a bit later.”

  “Oh, all right, My Lady,” Betsey was eager to keep the conversation going. “Is there something else that you would like to do now?”

  “Well,” Lady Paulina said, raising her arms above her head to stretch, “I cannot in all honesty say that I want to be fitted for my costume for the masquerade ball, but I suppose we ought to begin work on that today.”

  Betsey felt a wave of relief at this, and hoped that the emotion did not show too clearly on her face. “I believe that is an excellent plan, My Lady,” she said working hard to keep her voice calm, as though this were no significant change from earlier in the day.

  “I thought you might be pleased to hear me say that,” she said, smiling at Betsey.

  “I am, My Lady,” Betsey allowed her excitement to come through in her tone now. “I must admit that I have been quite worried for you of late, and I do hope that this means that you are feeling somewhat better.”

  Lady Paulina looked thoughtfully at Betsey for a moment, seeming at a loss for words. After a moment she threw the bedclothes off of herself, stood up, and walked to the washbasin. Betsey breathed a silent sigh of relief that she had freshened the water this morning while her mistress slept.

  “I am not feeling well,” Lady Paulina said, finally.

  “Oh. I am very sorry to hear that, My Lady,” Betsey said, sadness evident in her voice. She was not sure what to make of this information.

  The Earl was not currently in residence at Cublertone Manor, having left for London that morning to attend to some business. Lady Paulina had lately only been getting out of bed and dressing for dinner with her father each evening, not wanting him to know how upset she had been.

  The fact that she was choosing to get out of bed today, knowing that her father was not home to see her, had seemed like such a positive development. Something else must be motivating her to push through her sadness. And yet, she said that she was still feeling unwell, and it was clear from her tone that she still felt great sadness.

  “That is kind of you, Betsey, but you need not apologize. I have come to understand the reality of my situation, and now I must accept it. That is no fault of yours.”

  “I see, My Lady,” Betsey said, not entirely certain that she did see. “So, what will you do?”

  “I have thought about this quite a lot in the past several days. I know it seems as though I have been lying in my bed doing nothing of any use.”

  “Oh no, My Lady!” Betsey interjected.

  Lady Paulina smiled briefly at her and then waved her hand to brush away Betsey’s comment.

  “There is no need for that, Betsey, I know how it must seem,” she said, dismissively. “In spite of appearances, I can assure you that my brain has been quite active.”

  “All right then, what conclusions have you come to?”

  “Well, I am ashamed to admit this…” Lady Paulina said. She was facing the washbasin, with her back turned so that Betsey could not see her face. Betsey could hear frustration and embarrassment in Lady Paulina’s tone, even without seeing her facial expression.

  “My Lady,” Betsey said, her voice filled with compassion, “I do not wish to pry—if you would prefer not to speak of it, you need not say anything more.”

  “Thank you, Betsey, but I think that I must speak of it.”

  Betsey said nothing in response to this, wishing only to allow her mistress the opportunity to speak as much as she needed. Lady Paulina did not say anything right away, and instead splashed water on her face and then patted it dry with a fresh cloth. Betsey waited patiently until her mistress turned around to face her.

  Lady Paulina’s face was fresh and clean. Her expression remained melancholic, but her eyes appeared brighter than they had in several days. Betsey thought that she looked awake, and that there was a spark of the old Lady Paulina in her eyes—something that she had not seen for a week now.

  “When I spoke to my father and told him that I did not love the Viscount of Somerwich and had no intention of marrying him, I truly believed that he would listen to me.”

  Betsey simply nodded at this, not knowing what to say. She had never expected the Earl to prioritize his daughter’s happiness over his political aspirations, but it was only natural that Lady Paulina would believe the best of her father. Betsey felt a pang of sympathy for a child being so betrayed by her parent.

  Lady Paulina crossed her room and sat down in a chair at a small table. She gestured to indicate that Betsey should sit in the chair opposite her, and Betsey followed her lead.

  “I suppose that you must think me terribly naïve to have believed such a thing,” Lady Paulina continued.

  “Oh no, My Lady. It is only natural to expect the best from one’s parents.”

  “Well, I certainly did,” Lady Paulina said, with a sad sigh. “And I was terribly disappointed when my father did not live up to those expectations, as you know.”

  “And now, here is the part of which I am ashamed—when first he told me that I must marry the Viscount of Somerwich whether or not I wished it, I considered running away. I thought that perhaps I could disguise myself as a peasant woman and go live on a farm, or perhaps move to London and work in a tavern.”

  Betsey stared, wide-eyed, at Lady Paulina. The idea of her mistress using her soft, delicate hands to weed vegetable patches or wash dishes was too absurd to be considered.

  “I know, I know!” Lady Paulina said, sounding exasperated with herself. “It was a ridiculous fantasy, and I believe that some part of me always knew that it was not a real possibility. Once I finally accepted that…” her voice trailed off slightly.

  Betsey reached a hand across the table, and placed it on Lady Paulina’s. “My Lady,” she said, quietly. I ought to say something more, but I cannot imagine what I might say that would help her.

  “Once I finally accepted that I could not run away,” Lady Paulina began again, her voice stronger now. “I considered…or rather, I wished…I wished that I might just…die.”

  “Oh, My Lady!” Betsey said, failing to conceal the distress in her words. She squeezed her mistress’s hand and felt a stinging in her eyes as tears welled up there. “Please do not say such a thing! I could not stand if anything should happen to you. And, in spite of what you might think, your father would be utterly devastated. Surely you must know that?”

  “I do, Betsey,” Lady Paulina said, reassuringly.

  “Oh,” Betsey said, taking a deep breath to steady her nerves. “Of course you do. I am sorry for reacting so strongly, My Lady, I was merely surprised.”

  “I understand, you do not need to apologize. In fact, I know that you are right. As angry as I am with my father, I cannot stand the idea of his suffering if anything were to happen to me.

  “The more and more I thought about it, the more I realized that I would rather live with a marriage of convenience than not live at all. My father is only trying to secure my future in the best way he knows how.”

  “So, will you agree to marry the Viscount of Somerwich, My Lady?”

  “I can see no alternative. My father will not be persuaded to change his mind. Besides, the Viscount may make a fine enough husband after all. It is true that I feel no spark of passion for him, not like my true love, but he is kind. And I suppose he is rather handsome. Do you think that he is handsome, Betsey?”

  Betsey breathed in sharply at this question, her eyes widening. She could not help picturing the Viscount’s tall frame and handsome face. He was more than handsome, he was the most perfect specimen of masculine beauty that she had ever seen. I can hardly tell her my true opinion of the matter.

  “Oh, well…” she began, trying to sound as casual as possible. “I suppose he is rather handsome. Or rather, the two of you will make quite a handsome couple.”

  “I suppose we will,” Lady Paulina said, with a smile that did not extend to her eyes. “Now,
we really must get started on my costume for the masquerade ball.”

  Chapter 11

  After leaving the tailor’s shop in Bond Street, Michael had several hours free before his friends would join him at the club for the evening. He decided to call upon a family acquaintance. Stepping out of the shop into the early afternoon sunlight, Michael turned right and began to walk down the street.

  He walked at a leisurely pace for about a quarter of an hour, taking in the sights and sounds of the city around him. He continued to think about what Mr. Cummings had said during his fitting as he walked. If Lady Paulina was more interested in him than she was letting on, the masquerade ball would be the perfect time to sort out her feelings.

  The only topic of conversation that he knew was likely to hold her interest was riding. So, Michael resolved to come up with several amusing anecdotes, as well as some interesting obscure trivia about the subject. He would keep their conversation flowing as they danced, no matter how difficult.

  Perhaps in a mask and costume, Lady Paulina would be more forthcoming about her own feelings. In Michael’s experience, many people felt freedom to express themselves in new ways, even with the simplest of costumes.

  He smiled to himself at the thought of this as he walked. He could not help but envy the common people that he passed, assuming that their relationships must be much simpler than his own. Still, he was feeling more optimistic about his own marital prospects now.

  When he finally arrived in Stepney, Michael turned left down a small street filled with old buildings in various states of disrepair. Many of the buildings housed factories or shops on the first floor, with living quarters above. At the end of the street was a boarding house, and it was this building that Michael sought.

  He knocked at the door and was greeted by the proprietress of the establishment, a harassed looking woman of about fifty, called Mrs. Smith. She stared at him for a few seconds, and then blinked, as though she did not believe her eyes.

  “Hello, My Lord,” she said, sounding rather stunned. “What can I do for you, My Lord?” Belatedly, she gave him a rather awkward curtsey.

  “Hello, Mrs. Smith,” Michael said, kindly. “Perhaps you don’t remember me from my previous visit.”

  “My Lord,” she said, sounding rather nervous now, “My apologies, of course I remember. We don’t get many visitors such as yourself, is all. Bit of a shock each time, My Lord.”

  “No need to apologize. And please, call me Mr. Calford.” Michael was always careful not to use his title when he visited the boarding house, which he did every few months. There was little chance of his being recognized by anyone in this neighborhood, but in case the proprietress or any of the residents should tell their friends about his visits, it was best if no one knew he was from Hillfield.

  “Yes, of course, Mr. Calford,” Mrs. Smith said, pleasantly. “Please do come into the parlor.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Smith,” he replied. “Is Anne at home today? I should like to see her, if I may.”

  “Yes, Mr. Calford, she is just upstairs, I believe.” She gestured to the sofa, indicating that Michael should sit while he waited for Anne. “I shall go and get her. Shall I fetch you some tea as well?”

  “Yes, please, that is very kind of you,” Michael said, sitting down on the threadbare sofa.

  Mrs. Smith left the room, and Michael looked around him. All of the furniture was careworn, but clean, and a fire blazed merrily in the hearth. While he waited for Anne, Michael pulled a small purse out of the inside pocket of his coat. It was not much, but he hoped that it would provide some relief.

  A few minutes later, Mrs. Smith returned holding a tray with a teapot, three cups, and a small jug of milk. Michael noted that there was no sugar—he did not mind, as he never took sugar in his tea, but he worried what this might mean about the financial situation of the residents here.

  “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Smith.”

  “You are very welcome, Mr. Calford,” she replied, pleasantly.

  “Anne will be here in just a moment.”

  The two sat in companionable silence, sipping their tea, while they waited for Anne. Mrs. Smith had informed Michael, during his first visit, that she ran a proper establishment, and would not allow any of her tenants to be left alone with male visitors, no matter what their social position might be.

  Like most chaperones, Mrs. Smith was skilled at making her presence minimally invasive. Perhaps she listened intently to the conversations of her tenants and their guests, but Michael always had the impression that the words rolled right past her without lodging in her memory.

  A moment later, there was a knock at the door, and Mrs. Smith bid the person to enter. A young woman of about two-and-twenty entered the room. She wore a simple gray dress, with her hair hidden beneath a mob cap, like a maid, but this could not hide the fact that she had a pretty face. On her hip, she carried a baby.

  “Hello, Anne,” Michael said, smiling at her cheerfully.

  “Hello, My Lord,” she smiled and curtseyed to him.

  “Please, call me Mr. Calford,” Michael reminded her. “Will you have some tea?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  Michael poured her some tea, and offered her milk, which she refused. He gestured to a chair, indicating that she ought to sit down. Anne placed her baby on the floor in front of the chair. The baby, who had been avidly sucking her thumb, pulled it out of her mouth and immediately began to crawl about the room once she had been placed on the floor.

  Michael watched her keenly, smiling to see her exploring in a new way. During his last visit she had not been able to sit up on her own, let alone crawl. Now she moved through her environment independently, exploring every corner of the room.

  “I see that Mabel is crawling now,” he observed. “That must be very exciting for her.”

  Anne laughed at this, “Oh yes, very exciting indeed! She is always getting in to things she ought not to touch, and I am forever chasing her about the house.”

  “I imagine that must be quite tiring,” Michael said, considering this for the first time. Mabel was now crawling toward him, and he watched her with fascination, amazed at how quickly she managed to move on hands and knees.

  “Yes, Mr. Calford,” Anne sighed, but then she looked at Mabel and smiled. “It is quite fun as well, though.”

  “I am glad to hear that,” Michael said, smiling at Anne before returning his attention to the baby, now trying to pull up on his trouser leg. “May I pick her up?”

  “Of course,” Anne said, smiling at him, “Mr. Calford is going to pick you up now, Mabel.”

  Michael picked the child up and placed her on his lap. She looked around, momentarily confused, but then reached out to touch his face. Michael leaned in closer to her and smiled, “Hello, little one!” he said, adopting a softer, more playful tone.

  Mabel pressed her small hands into Michael’s cheeks and laughed. Michael bounced his knees so that Mabel moved as though on horseback, causing her to laugh even more. They continued this game for several minutes, while Mabel’s mother looked on, smiling.

  After a time, Mabel began to fuss and squirm about on Michael’s lap. Taking this as an indication that she would like to be put down, he placed the child on the floor, where she proceeded to crawl back to her mother. Michael took this opportunity to speak with Anne about her situation.

  “How are you getting on, Anne?” he asked, sounding concerned.

  “Quite well, Mr. Calford,” she said with a smile. “Mrs. Smith is a very kind landlady, and our situation is much improved since moving here. Thanks to you, sir.”

  Michael smiled at her briefly, and then looked down at his hands. “It is the least that I could do,” he said, sounding a bit sad.

  “Oh no, Mr. Calford, you mustn’t say such a thing. Most gentlemen in your position would do nothing of the kind. Mabel and I are really very lucky to have a patron such as you.”

  “Well, I am happy to help in any way that I can,” Mic
hael reassured her. “And I hope that this will be some help as well.”

  Michael once again removed the small purse from his coat pocket. Reaching his arm across the table, he handed the object to Anne, who took it from him. Holding it in her hand, Michael saw her eyes widen as she felt the weight of it.

  The purse contained only ten pounds, but Michael knew that this amount of money would make a significant difference in the lives of Anne and Mabel. The money would pay for several months’ worth of room and board, as well as other living expenses.

  “Thank you ever so much, Mr. Calford,” Anne said, her voice catching in her throat.

  Michael remained at the boarding house for another half an hour, watching Mabel play, and chatting to Anne about her child. When the time finally arrived for him to leave, Michael picked the child up off of the floor once more, kissed her on the cheek, and handed her back to her mother.