The Viscount's Bride Read online

  Unlike his own family, with the mother who never smiled and the cold, stern father who angered at the least provocation. He could hardly remember a time when his mother was not an invalid and, although she never raised her voice, never openly wept, he had no doubt of her deep unhappiness. And his father had hardly been a father at all. If not for Justin’s family, he would not have experienced any sort of warmth at all.

  He had stayed with them often. The Duchess bestowed upon him the same love and warmth she bestowed upon her own son. She always listened when he talked, and had not been above getting down on her knees and playing games with them. The Duke, although more reserved, had been no less kind. Despite their welcome, Brandt could not forget they were not his own family or that, eventually, he would be summoned home.

  Brandt had envied Justin. He still did.

  Even if he wanted a wife, he could not afford one. Certainly he had started to recover some of the fortune his father had squandered, but he’d spent much of it on the repairs and improvements his father had neglected on the land and tenant cottages that belonged to Salcombe House. Some he had gambled on a venture that at the moment seemed fruitless. And now he had Waverly, the house he had wanted from the moment he had first laid eyes upon it.

  He refused to marry for money. Or for mere convenience. Or to produce the heir his great-aunt, Lady Farrows, mentioned in every letter. He would not bring children into the world unless he married a woman who would adore them as much as Marguerite adored her children or Belle adored Julian.

  A woman such as Chloe.

  He wanted to curse Marguerite for even putting that notion into his head. Chloe was not for him. She was too untouched; too naïve; too good.

  And he shared his father’s blood. He’d set out to prove his difference when he’d run wild in London. Prove that he was not cold and passionless, prove he could sample all the pleasures of the flesh the capital had to offer. Pleasures his father had condemned.

  But the irony was he had turned out to be like his father after all.

  —

  Brandt reached the ramshackle stables and then dismounted and handed his horse over to a groom. Instead of making for the house he veered off towards the path that took him to the edge of the cliff. Movement caught his eye on the beach below him. He had no difficulty identifying the children on the rocks as Lord Will Haversham and his sister, Lady Caroline. Or the woman whose head was bare and whose hair glinted red and gold in the sun.

  He muttered a curse. By his calculations the tide would be coming in shortly. He hoped she had the sense to clamber from the rocks before that happened. He headed for the uneven stone steps that would take him to the beach.

  —

  “Look, Chloe!” William called. Chloe lifted her skirts and carefully stepped across the rocks to where William peered into a pool. She crouched down to look. “What do you see?”

  “A starfish! Is he not splendid?”

  “He is.” She smiled at his enthusiasm. He was six and full of energy and spirits.

  “I wish I could bring him home.”

  “He would not survive very long away from the sea. He will be much happier here with his friends.”

  William eyed her. “What friends? I don’t see any other starfish.”

  “I’m sure he has friends close by.” She had no idea if starfish were particularly social. They didn’t seem as if they would be.

  She looked over at Will, and her heart swelled. She adored him as well as his more serious older sister, Caroline, and now, of course, little Emma. Lydia could not understand why she wanted to do dull things such as taking them on picnics or exploring tide pools or riding ponies to the fishing stream near the village. But then Lydia had grown up with an older brother and a younger sister and despite their little quarrels, no one could doubt the true affection between them. Lydia had had a neighbourhood of playmates as well. Chloe had never had playmates and Lucien had been worse than no brother at all. With Will and Caroline she could participate in all the things she had missed as a child.

  “Chloe!” Caroline appeared at her side. “I think we should go back. The tide is starting to come in.”

  “You are right. Come, Will, we need to leave.”

  “I want to stay. A little bit longer.” He wriggled further on his stomach.

  “No, William,” Caroline said. “We must make our way to the beach. We don’t want to be caught on the rocks.”

  “We won’t be. Look, now there’s a crab!”

  “William!”

  “If the tide does come in, we can escape by going through the sea cave. Then we’ll end up at Waverly in the garden.”

  Caroline shuddered. “Ugh. It is too dark and slimy and smells like fish.”

  “And I hate dark, cold places,” Chloe added. Will had dragged them over to the dark opening behind the rocks. The water swirling inside echoed in a sombre way that gave her the chills. Despite Will’s assurance that the passage led away from the water and up the cliff she had horrible visions of being trapped while the water rose. And even if she did like climbing about in caves, she had no desire to end up in Waverly’s garden. Not any more, at least. “We can have the apricot tarts now.”

  The mention of apricot tarts had the desired effect. Will stood up and scrambled over the rocks with amazing alacrity. He paused on the last rock. “First one to the hamper gets three tarts!” He jumped down and dashed across the sand.

  Caroline made a face. “I would like to see him race in skirts.”

  “I know. It doesn’t seem fair, does it? Even for activities such as this women must wear skirts and shifts.” Of course, most ladies would never think of clambering around on rocks in bare feet as she was doing now.

  Caroline hopped off the last rock and Chloe followed. Then the young girl turned to Chloe. “The next person to the hamper gets two tarts!” She started to run and Chloe dashed after her.

  Running on sand was no easy feat and they were giggling before they had gone no more than a few yards. They stopped, breathless and laughing. Chloe glanced towards William and the laughter faded. She wanted to groan instead. Why ever was Brandt here?

  But he was. He stood with Will, watching them. “Lord Salcombe is here!” Caroline’s voice expressed delight. She began to walk towards him at a much more dignified pace.

  Chloe trailed behind her, suddenly self-conscious of her faded gown with its wet, dirty skirts, the hair that had come out of its pins, and her bare, dirty feet. She probably looked like an overgrown street urchin. She pulled up her bonnet, which dangled down her back by its ribbons, and set it on her head.

  William dashed towards her. “Look, Chloe! Uncle Brandt is here! I told him we were having apricot tarts and he could have one!” He caught her hand, dragging her towards Brandt.

  Brandt’s eyes were on her and for a moment he did not reply. Then he seemed to start. “Only if Lady Chloe agrees, and if there are enough.”

  “I am certain there are,” she said, feeling even more awkward.

  William had thrown himself down beside the hamper. “Come and sit down,” he said, grinning up at them.

  “Only after the ladies sit,” Brandt said.

  “Oh!” William promptly rose. “You need to sit down,” he told Chloe and Caroline.

  They took their places and Will sat back down. Brandt settled his own long frame next to Will while Chloe opened the hamper and distributed the first round of tarts. She made certain her hand did not contact Brandt’s strong, lean one when he took the pastry from her.

  She sat back on the cloth, grateful Brandt lounged next to Will and the hamper provided a barrier between them. At least she did not need to think of conversation. Will chattered between mouthfuls of tart, excited to tell Brandt about starfish, tide pools and sea creatures. Chloe’s name seemed to come into the conversation far too often for her liking. More than once she found Brandt’s gaze on her, which only increased her discomfort.

  “And Chloe doesn’t mind getting her skirts we
t! She even goes without shoes! Show him, Chloe!”

  Chloe started. “Show him what?”

  “Your feet! They are bare!”

  “I would rather not do that.”

  “But why not?”

  Brandt glanced down at him and his mouth twitched. “Because it is not considered proper for ladies to show gentlemen their bare feet.”

  “Oh.” Will digested that for a moment. “Are you a gentleman?”

  “Of course he is!” Caroline said. She gave her younger brother a reproving stare. “He is a peer.”

  Brandt looked over at Chloe and grinned with a boyishness she had never seen. “I am not certain Chloe considers those terms necessarily synonymous.”

  “I…I have never thought about it.” She found herself smiling back at him. His grin slowly faded and he stared at her with an awareness that brought heat to her cheeks and made her heart pound. She looked away. “Does anyone want another tart?” Her voice sounded odd.

  “I do!” William exclaimed.

  Caroline did as well. Chloe was grateful for the excuse to bring out more of the delicious tarts and direct the conversation in another direction. After eating two more tarts, William grabbed Brandt’s hand and urged him to wade with him.

  He stood in a lazy, graceful movement. “Actually, I had come to warn you about the tide. But I see I did not need to.”

  “We come here all the time. Chloe knows all about the tides,” Will said.

  “I am glad to hear that. I would not want any deaths on my property.”

  “This is your property?” Chloe asked.

  “Yes. I negotiated it as part of the estate. Do not worry, you are quite welcome to come here any time you want.”

  “I see.” So he now was master of her favourite cove as well. She turned away, again with that little twinge of resentment and started to pack the linens back in the hamper.

  “Come, Uncle Brandt! I want to show you where we found the starfish.”

  “Do we have time?” Brandt asked her.

  “A little time.” At least if he was occupied she could put her stockings and half-boots on without Brandt around. Not that he would watch, but she would rather not have an audience.

  “Then I had best remove my boots,” he said. To her dismay, he sat down on a nearby rock. Cheeks pink, she looked away and busied herself putting the picnic dishes back in the hamper. He finally rose and left with William and Chloe found her stockings and boots and hastily put them on. She tried to pin her hair back up and finally Caroline offered to help.

  As Chloe finished tidying up, William and Brandt remained standing in the waves. William was holding Brandt’s hand. He turned and saw her and then said something to William. They then started back towards Caroline and Chloe.

  Chloe wiped the sand from William’s feet and then helped him put on his stockings and shoes. She tried to ignore that Brandt sat on the rock next to them and was engaged in the same task.

  Brandt rose. “Do you need me to carry the hamper back?”

  Chloe shook her head. “No. Marguerite said she would send a servant for it after we returned.”

  “I will be glad to offer my escort back to the Hall, in any case.”

  “That is not necessary,” she said sharply, then tried to sound more agreeable. “But if you want to that would be very kind.” Now she merely sounded idiotic.

  Which he must have thought as well from his quizzical expression. He said nothing, however.

  They made their way up the stone steps that led from the beach to the top of the cliff. William continued to chatter about their excursion and even Caroline, who was normally reserved when in the company of more than one or two people, participated as well. Chloe followed along, feeling rather resentful, which was ridiculous. After all, William and Caroline had every right to like whomever they pleased. It was just…she felt rather left out. She had enjoyed being their special friend and now it seemed Brandt was just as special.

  She had no idea why feeling special was so important, except that since Belle married she had felt a little lost. She knew Belle loved her no less, but now her husband and her baby were of first concern to her. She belonged to them and they belonged to her.

  Chloe felt as if she did not belong to anyone.

  —

  By the time they reached the steps of Haversham Hall, she was still feeling sorry for herself. She followed them into the entrance hall, and Caroline turned to her. “Will you stay for a while with us, Chloe?”

  At least she hadn’t asked Brandt if he would stay. Then chided herself for being so childish. “No. I am too dirty to even enter the drawing room. But thank you.” She gave Caroline a swift hug, careful not to soil Caroline’s gown and then shook William’s hand.

  “I will take you back to Falconcliff,” Brandt said.

  “I walked. I would not want to inconvenience you if you rode.”

  “I walked as well.”

  “So you found them, Brandt,” Marguerite said as she came down the stairs. “Now you can escort Chloe to Falconcliff.”

  “Which is what I told her.”

  Marguerite reached the bottom and came forward to take Chloe’s hand. “Thank you so much, dear Chloe.” She looked over to Brandt. “The children adore her.”

  “I’ve no doubt of that,” he said.

  “She needs several of her own, do you not think?”

  Chloe’s face grew warm.

  “If that is what she wants,” he said politely.

  “Of course she will need a suitable husband first,” Marguerite persisted. She cast Chloe a mischievous look. “That will be my next project.”

  “I…” Why must Marguerite tease her about this now, when she was terrified she would end up with a most unsuitable husband? And in front of Brandt, of all people? “I…I do not want a husband.” That was not what she meant to say either. “I should return to Falconcliff.”

  Marguerite made a wry face. “I did not mean to put you to the blush. Sometimes my tongue runs away with me. I won’t do anything you don’t wish, but I would love to see you settled with your own children.” She glanced at Brandt. “Just as I hope to see Brandt wed with a family of his own.”

  To Chloe’s surprise, a hint of colour tinged his cheek. “Chloe is right. We had best go before you decide to post the banns.”

  “I would not be that presumptuous!” For some reason Marguerite looked quite pleased with herself.

  For the first time, Chloe was actually relieved to leave Marguerite. She could scarcely look at Brandt as they started down the path that cut through the Haversham estate to the back garden of Falconcliff. He did not seem inclined to talk either, which proved to be more unnerving than his teasing.

  She finally stole a look at his face. He appeared to be concentrating very hard on the path. A lock of dark hair fell over his forehead and he looked rather boyish despite the set expression he wore. He cast a quick look at her. “Don’t let Marguerite’s words trouble you. She habitually concerns herself in other people’s affairs, particularly when it comes to marriage.”

  “It is just rather awkward to have such things brought up in front of someone else.”

  A slight smile touched his mouth. “I agree. Particularly when it is quite apparent she intended to start her match-making in the middle of her hallway.”

  A frown wrinkled Chloe’s brow. “Did she? With whom?” She had been so confused she had hardly known what Marguerite was talking about.

  “With you and me.”

  Chloe stared at him blankly. “I beg your pardon.”

  They had reached the stone gate that marked the beginning of Falconcliff’s garden. He allowed her to pass him and then fell into step next to her on the walk that led to the house. “She has already informed me she thinks that you and I would make a suitable match.”

  Chloe’s mouth fell open. “Oh, dear,” was all she could say.

  “Don’t worry. You’re in no danger. I am quite aware you would rather spend your life in N
ewgate than wed me.” This time he looked rather amused.

  “That is not true!” Hearing him put the matter so bluntly made her cringe.

  “Wouldn’t you?”

  “No, of course not!” What if he thought she was angling for an offer? “I…I do not really want to marry anyone.”

  He didn’t blink at that. “And why not? You seem fond of children. I would imagine you’d want your own some day.”

  “I am very happy being an aunt,” she said stiffly. “One must be married in order to have children of one’s own. Or at least one should be.”

  “That is preferable.” His mouth twitched. “So what has caused you to hold marriage in such aversion? Most young ladies seem eager to acquire that status as quickly as possible.”

  Well, she was not most young ladies and she found his amusement irritating. “If you must know, I do not like the idea of a husband.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think in general they are too much trouble.”

  To her satisfaction, he actually looked taken aback. “Why do you say that?”

  “They always wish you to do as they ask, frequently without consulting anyone’s tastes; they wish everyone to be quiet when they want to be quiet and to make conversation when they wish to, and in general consider a wife there for only their convenience.”

  “That is hardly a romantic view of marriage.”

  “I am not very romantic. If I had to be married, I would prefer a comfortable marriage. In fact, I think being in love would be a great inconvenience and certainly clouds one’s judgement. And I most certainly do not think it guarantees happiness!”

  “But we have, under our noses, two couples who defy that theory.”

  “But Belle and Justin made each other most unhappy until they resolved their differences. I would never want to go through that! And although Giles and Marguerite are very happy now, I dare say it is because they are so comfortable with each other. Marguerite told me that when she first met Giles, he seemed to dislike her and when she realised she had fallen in love with him, she despaired for months until he offered for her. The most odd thing was he confessed he had thought she did not like him. I cannot think of anything that would be more inconvenient. I would prefer to be comfortable right away and forgo all the stupid misunderstandings.”