The Viscount's Kiss (10 page)

“D
rury!”

Sir Douglas Drury, baronet and barrister, gowned and bewigged, came to a startled halt outside the Old Bailey. Spotting Bromwell's familiar face in a hackney cab, he smiled and, with his ruined hands clasped behind his back, made his way across the busy street.

“I must protest being accosted in that insolent manner, my lord,” Drury said with mock severity as Bromwell pushed open the door for him to enter. “I am not a peddler.”

“I most humbly beg your pardon,” Bromwell replied with equally feigned remorse. “However, I feared a silent
wave of my hand would fail to capture your notice. Deep in thought over a case, were you?”

“Actually, no,” Drury admitted. “Juliette's been a little unwell.”

“Nothing serious, I hope?” Bromwell asked, his own dilemma momentarily forgotten in his concern for his friend's wife.

“No, I don't believe so,” Drury replied with an expression that assuaged Bromwell's dread. “What brings you back to London? Business, pleasure or spiders?”

“Spiders, mostly. I'm presenting a paper to the Linnean Society on the Brazilian wandering spider,” Bromwell said. “However, I'd also like to ask your advice on a legal matter.”

Drury regarded his friend with genuine surprise. “Don't tell me you've done something illegal?”

“It's nothing of a criminal nature.”

“Thank God. But if it's not criminal, you would likely be better off consulting a solicitor. I'm sure Jamie St. Claire would be happy to help you,” Drury said as he settled back against the squabs and hit the roof to signal the cabbie to drive on.

“If you think that best,” Bromwell replied, “although I'd like to keep it as private as possible.”

Drury's eyes flared with surprise, which he quickly and effectively masked. “If you tell me, I can present the facts to Jamie without involving you or mentioning any specific names.”

“I'd prefer that,” Bromwell said, thinking Lady Eleanor would probably prefer that, too.

“There was a woman in the mail coach with me on the way to Bath,” he began as the cab lurched over a rut in the street, “and there was an accident. The coach overturned—
nobody was seriously injured,” he hurried to assure his startled friend.

“Thank God,” Drury muttered. “Continue.”

“We were quite literally thrown together, and…”

This was likely not a good time to mention the kiss. If there ever would be a good time.

“Afterward, I discovered she's in some difficulty, so I invited her to stay at Granshire Hall. She's there now, enduring my parents. It's her situation that requires legal advice.”

“Ah.” Drury steepled his fingers that, while better than they'd been when he'd first returned from France, were still misshapen. “Was this woman an elderly grandmother or a middle-aged matron?”

“No. She's young.”

“Pretty?”

“Very.”

Drury raised a dark brow. “Does she like spiders?”

“Sadly, no. But at least she didn't run out of my laboratory when she saw my collection.”

Drury's other brow rose. “You invited her into your laboratory?”

“She, um, was walking in the woods and I met her near it, so yes, I did.”

Bromwell saw no need to explain that he'd spent the night in the lab so he wouldn't have to see her, or think about her sleeping a short distance down the corridor in Granshire Hall.

Drury held up his hand. “Perhaps this should wait until we're home. Otherwise, you'll just have to repeat these details to Juliette—or would you rather this was strictly between us?”

Bromwell thought a moment. It wasn't a situation he
was eager to share. On the other hand, Juliette was a kind, bold, clever woman who'd had her share of troubles, so she might have some valuable advice. And although he had every faith that Drury would keep this discussion private if he requested it, he wasn't keen to put secrets between a man and his wife. “No. I think Juliette's opinion might prove helpful, too. Brix and Fanny are still visiting with Edmond and Diana in Lincolnshire?”

“Yes. You'd want their advice, as well?”

He shook his head. “Gad, no!”

He could just imagine Brix's merry interrogation regarding the circumstances of his first encounter with Lady Eleanor and Diana would probably want to use it in the opening of a novel. Even worse, Edmond might take it into his head to compose a sentimental poem. He still hadn't gotten over Edmond's
Ode to an Arachnid.
“That is, I don't think the lady in question would care to have too many others know her troubles.

“How is your new house?” he asked, turning the conversation away from Lady Eleanor and to Drury's recent purchase.

On the edge of Mayfair, it wasn't the most prestigious location, but Drury had never cared about the trappings of success. Indeed, he hadn't even owned a town house until he'd gotten married. Until then, he'd lived in his chambers at the Inns of Court. He'd chosen this town house, he'd explained, because it was well built, with the latest in modern conveniences, and sure to increase in value over time.

“Fine, although Juliette is full of plans for painting and curtains and those sorts of things. I confess, old friend, that there are times I seek sanctuary in my study.”

Bromwell shared a companionable smile. “As I flee to my laboratory when my parents try my patience to its limit.”

That building could be a sanctuary for other reasons, too, as he'd recently discovered.

The cab rolled to a stop and as Bromwell looked at the white Georgian town house, he had to agree that Drury had spent his money wisely. Built across from a small park, it was in excellent condition with tall windows so clean they sparkled.

A young man in butler's attire opened the door as they got out of the cab and went up the steps.

“Good God, that's not Mr. Edgar, surely?” Bromwell cried, for the fellow was the spitting image of Drury's longtime servant, although at least twenty years younger.

“It's his son,” Drury replied. “We call him Edgar Minor.”

They had barely crossed the threshold and given Edgar Minor their hats when Drury's wife came rushing down the stairs right into her husband's arms.

“If you please, my dear,” he chided even as he held her close, “we have company and the door to the street is still open.”

Despite his frown, he wasn't fooling Bromwell or Edgar Minor or his wife, either. His eyes were too full of love and laughter.

“Oh, Buggy doesn't mind, do you, my lord?” Juliette asked after giving her husband a hearty kiss.

She left her husband's arms and hurried to Bromwell, kissing both his cheeks in the French manner. “Welcome! Of course you will stay for supper and tell us all about the plans for your expedition.”

“Of course,” Bromwell agreed with a smile. He had liked Juliette from the moment he'd met her. Although
Drury had never said so, Bromwell had guessed his friend had suspected him of harbouring a
tendre
for the French seamstress.

He hadn't. There hadn't been any woman who'd touched his heart until Lady Eleanor landed in his lap.

“Buggy has a friend with a legal dilemma,” Drury said as they entered the comfortably appointed drawing room done in soothing tones of blue and cream. It was much smaller than the drawing room at Granshire Hall, but Bromwell would trade this for the other in a heartbeat.

“Oh? I hope it is not a serious one,” Juliette said as she took a seat in a wing chair by the Dutch tiled hearth.

After her husband had joined her and Bromwell was sitting on a brocade-covered chair opposite, she picked up a small item from the sewing basket beside her, set it on her lap and threaded a needle.

Bromwell studied the fabric for a moment before he realized it was a small nightgown. A baby's nightgown.

“That looks a little small for Amelia,” he said, referring to the recent addition to the family of the Honorable Brixton Smythe-Medway.

Juliette glanced at her husband and smiled, her brown eyes shining. “It is not for Amelia.”

Bromwell followed her gaze to his friend, who was trying to appear nonchalant.

And failing miserably.

It didn't take a genius to realize what that, and Juliette's slight illness, must mean. His friend was going to be a father, too.

At once Bromwell envisioned this house as his, with Lady Eleanor seated by the hearth in the evening, sewing a little garment for their child.

Never before had he imagined a domestic future for himself. When he'd contemplated marriage, he had never thought beyond the ceremony and even that as some distant event, when he was too old to travel.

But now, here, this vision of a future with Eleanor struck him like a blow, a sudden, sharp, powerful pang of longing.

“I thought you would be happy for us,” Juliette said, her brows knitting.

Bromwell came to himself with a start and smiled. “Oh, I am!” he said, hurrying to shake Drury's hand and kiss her cheek. “Delighted for you both. I envy you, that's all. That leaves only Charlie and me unmarried and childless.”

Juliette resumed her sewing. “Someday, a woman will win your hearts and you will both be as happy as my Drury and me.”

“I hope so,” he answered, although the vision receded as he remembered his plans for his expedition. “In the present, however, I need your husband's help with my friend's dilemma.”

He proceeded to describe Lady Eleanor's recent history and when he was finished, Juliette was wide-eyed with dismay. “Oh, the poor girl! To be forced to marry an old man!”

She looked at her husband, who was equally upset, although a stranger would probably have assumed he wasn't at all affected by what he'd heard. It took long acquaintance to see the subtle changes in the set of Drury's jaw and the glint in his dark eyes to realize he was disturbed.

“British law requires that both parties consent to any marriage,” Drury said, “so it's a good thing she returned to England.”

“And by herself, too!” Juliette exclaimed. “A brave girl, and clever, too, no doubt.”

“Very,” Bromwell confirmed.

“Unfortunately, as far as the law is concerned, she is her father's chattel until she's married, and then she becomes her husband's. However, if her parents are in Italy, we might be able to have her godfather declared
in loco parentis
. Jamie will know for sure, but even if that's unlikely to succeed, the legal suit might cause her parents to reconsider their position.”

Bromwell felt better already.

“Perhaps if their daughter were to find her own husband, especially a wealthy and titled gentleman, they would relent even faster,” Juliette suggested.

Bromwell flushed, but spoke just as firmly to her as he had to his father. “I have no intention of marrying anyone until I'm no longer able to travel, provided Lady Eleanor would even consider it.”

“I did not necessarily mean she should marry you,” Juliette returned, her hands as steady as her voice. “Maybe she will meet someone at your father's hunt ball. You wish her to be happy, do you not?”

He did—although the thought of her being happy with anyone else wasn't a welcome one.

“The first thing to do,” Drury said in his usual logical, businesslike tone, “is to see what Jamie has to say about the law in such matters. Until then, everything is mere speculation, and I would much rather speculate on the subject of Edmond's new book. Apparently he's taken it into his head to write about something called a vampyre.”

“Indeed, he has. He wrote to me about them, because they're not unlike spiders in some aspects,” Bromwell
replied, happy to leave the subject of Lady Eleanor for a while and speak of other things.

Even if she was never far from his thoughts.

 

The day after Lord Bromwell went to London, Mrs. Fallingbrook took Nell on a tour of Granshire Hall. It was indeed a magnificent house, although it was more like a museum than a home.

She spent another few days wandering about on her own and attempting to avoid the earl, who bored her nearly to death talking about his plans for the house and gardens. He was considering waterworks on a scale to rival Versailles, or so it seemed, and she had to wonder how the cost for such a venture would compare to the cost of his son's proposed expedition.

The countess kept mostly to her room, and the servants were busy and preoccupied preparing for the hunt ball, as well as the guests who would soon arrive in anticipation of that major event.

She walked in the garden and occasionally to the viscount's laboratory, where she dusted the jars and found herself studying the contents not with revulsion, as when she'd first seen them, but with increasing interest. She was surprised to discover how many kinds of spiders there were, and how different they could be from one another. Some of them were even rather beautiful.