To Wed A Viscount (14 page)

“I have few illusions about myself as a woman, Griffin. I could never have attracted the attentions of an eligible suitor.”

He faced her fully, and she could see the stubborn set of his jaw. “What utter nonsense. I might have proposed to you out of a sense of duty, but I find you desirable. Surely other men feel the same.”

“You find me desirable?” Excitement lit her eyes. The serious issues of the discussion paled at this unexpected admission. “Truly?”

“That is hardly significant.” Griffin cast her a superior male glance. “And completely irrelevant.”

Faith anxiously crumbled a piece of toast, then brushed the crumbs off her fingers. Griffin began to speak, but his words no longer had the power to distress her. He found her desirable! All her life she had craved that kind of male attention. 'Twas almost unbelievable to hear that from the man she had fallen so deeply in love with, the man who was her husband. At present.

In Faith's mind, that single admission changed everything. Now there was hope, a real chance for their marriage to continue. Griffin said he could probably forgive her in time. Still another reason to hope. The memories in her head of the night they shared started churning, making her suddenly breathless and over-warm. Faith remembered sharply the intimacy they had shared, the way she had so wantonly craved his touch, had so completely shattered in his arms.

No man could be so gentle, so loving, if he did not care, at least a little, about the woman in his arms. A third reason to hope.

“Faith? Faith? Are you listening to me?”

She felt his hands on her shoulders. With renewed determination she lifted her chin and stared at him.

“I have tried to explain myself, Griffin. I have apologized, several times, for my actions. I know not what else I can do. You have indicated that perhaps in time you will learn to forgive me. That is generous of you, yet I know that I cannot spend the rest of my life trying to atone for this mistake.” She grasped the table edge and stood on her feet. Her legs felt like thin spindles that could hardly support her weight.

Faith knew this was a calculated risk, but was determined to brazen it out. If there was any chance at all for a successful life together, she had to regain her pride and self-respect, or else Griffin would never be able to see her as anything other than a liar and a cheat. “As soon as I can hire a coach, I shall return to Mayfair Manor. If you wish to continue the marriage we have contracted, you may find me there.”

He stared at her in disbelief. “You expect me to simply say no more about this matter?”

“Yes.” She turned from him and walked to the door.

“I will not stay where I am not wanted, nor will I go begging constantly for your forgiveness. I want to be your wife, Griffin, not your whipping boy.”

It was the longest five steps she had ever taken, but somehow Faith managed to open the door and walk inside the bedchamber. Utter silence followed her.

The quiet was complete. Griffin stared at the closed door in amazement, still marveling that Faith had calmly delivered her ultimatum and then walked through it. He waited for the anger to boil over, the rage to engulf him, but it did not come. Perhaps the anger had all burned off last night, when he had left the bedchamber and his bride, to find himself walking about the barn and stables of the posting inn for several hours.

In the wee hours of the morning Griffin had summoned the innkeeper, giving him a cock-and-bull story about needing a larger chamber for his valet. Fortunately there had been an unoccupied room prepared, but instead of his servant, Griffin had spent the remainder of the night in these accommodations, tossing fretfully on the bed, trying to sort out his feelings, and wrestling with the problem of his wife.

Would she never cease to surprise him? He, who had long believed he understood the workings of a female mind, who had enjoyed many different types of relationships with women throughout the years.

Griffin had always prided himself on the ease in which he conducted these many liaisons. The lack of fuss, overwrought emotions, demanding restrictions that other men complained of when speaking about their wives or even their mistresses and lovers, were never a difficulty he had to face.

Yet now he was saddled with a wife he barely understood, who seemed to enjoy high drama. This was very quickly making his life far more complicated than he had ever believed possible.

Yet, in truth, the problem ran far deeper than his lack of understanding his bride. It was difficult for Griffin to fully acknowledge that he had been hurt by her duplicity, wounded by her deception, for that would mean that he cared for this vibrant woman with his heart and not his head.

Griffin had always thought himself invincible to the pain that women could inflict. It was an unpleasant and unwelcome discovery to realize that he was wrong. And he blamed Faith for forcing him to make that rather distressing realization.

Griffin let out a long breath of air and rubbed his hand across his stomach. The full breakfast he had consumed in order to show Faith that he could calmly cope with this situation now sat heavy in his stomach. He suddenly wished his pride had not demanded such a blatant demonstration.

But, now, what would he do? Calmly continue with this marriage or try to decide if there was a dignified way of extricating himself from his newly spoken vows?

Perhaps the fault was not entirely Faith's. Perhaps he had begun this marriage with false expectations, thinking it would be a quiet, unemotional, dignified relationship, much like the one his parents had shared.

In his ignorance, Griffin had merely assumed he and Faith would eventually settle into a life that included mutual respect, shared values, and warm, yet restrained, companionship.

Now he knew better. He realized the moment he had truly claimed her as his own last night that would be impossible. Not because she was a virgin, which had shocked the hell out of him, but because her passionate and heated response had fired his blood beyond rational thought.

Griffin had felt so strongly the need for physical distance between them last night partly because of that response. In all the years, he had never been deliberately cruel to a woman. It went against his nature to be harsh with those who were weaker and more vulnerable.

Last night he had clearly seen the look of pain and the shimmer of tears in Faith's eyes. He had heard her statements of genuine regret. Yet he had stormed from the bedchamber, unable to forget that he had been duped into this marriage.

Did not every man have the right to expect honesty from his wife?

Drumming his fingers slowly on the table, Griffin pondered this question and was forced to admit that he had not been completely honest with Faith on the matter of his son. She believed the boy was the product of an earlier marriage, and he had not bothered to correct that mistaken assumption because it had been far easier than trying to explain the truth.

Was his sin not as great as his wife's? Griffin slapped his palm on the table and quickly suppressed the thought.
His
actions were not in question at the moment.

Maybe in time they could learn to work things out between them satisfactorily. Griffin wasn't entirely convinced, but he was certainly astute enough to realize it couldn't be accomplished if they were apart.

His mind made up, Griffin stalked to the connecting bedchamber and yanked open the door. Faith, in the act of donning her traveling cloak, turned with a startled gasp. She dismissed her maid with a nervous nod, then straightened to face him.

“The Viscountess of Dewhurst does not ride in a hired coach,” he announced in his best aristocratic voice. “I will leave my carriage and driver at your disposal.”

“How will you return home?” A worried frown creased her brow. “Or do you intend to stay in town?”

“I will return to the country. 'Tis a fine day, perfect for a good, long ride on horseback.” He couldn't help the self-deprecating grin that settled on his face. “I find that my stomach often objects if I travel too long in an enclosed vehicle.”

The first real smile of the morning flashed across Faith's face. Griffin was surprised to realize how glad he was to see it.

“You were captain of a sailing vessel for many years,” she said, “yet you suffer an upset stomach from the motion of a vehicle?”

“A ship is a far different conveyance than a poorly sprung coach,” he replied gruffly.

“Yes, of course.” He saw the wide smile she tried to hide behind her hand. “I thank you for your generosity, my lord.”

“I'm not being generous. I'm being practical.”

“Of course, my lord.” The smile instantly vanished. Faith frowned and flushed deeply, casting her eyes down to her hands.

“I do however have one favor to ask of you.”

“Yes?” She looked up into his eyes and he could see she was very confused.

“I cannot abide being ‘my lorded' by you.”

“I see. I'm sorry.”

She sounded almost meek, not at all like the woman he knew.

“In the future, would you please address me by my name, not my rank.”

“If you wish”—she hesitated, then smiled slightly—“Griffin.”

He nodded with approval. “I have given you the protection of my name, the dignity of my rank, and the security of my fortune.” He smiled at that last bit, knowing he would also be putting Faith's funds to use in restoring his family's property.

“I am not unaware of the advantages of our marriage. Nor am I ungrateful.” She gave a particularly tight tug on the strings of her cloak as she tied a large bow at her throat to secure the garment, then picked up her gloves and reticule. “I thank you for the use of your carriage. I shall make certain it is returned the moment after I reach Mayfair Manor.”

“I think not ”

His stern voice halted her progress toward the door. “You wish me to keep the carriage at the manor?”

“No.”

She looked uncertainly at him for a moment. “What shall I instruct the servants to do with it?”

“Nothing. You will be returning to my home so the coach can be properly placed in the carriage house where it belongs.” Griffin set his jaw in a hard line. “No matter what our differences are, I do not intend to live apart from my wife.”

With his message faithfully delivered, it was now Griffin's turn to pivot on his heel and calmly walk out the door, leaving behind a very bewildered Faith.

It was not the triumphant homecoming Faith had always envisioned. Instead of familiar servants lining the drive poised to wish her well, their faces beaming with happy, expectant grins, there was complete silence as the coach rattled down the long drive. Instead of an eager husband clutching her hand in support as she approached her new home, Faith sat alone in the carriage, with only her nerves for company.

Griffin had ridden on horseback the entire way home, refusing to abandon his mount even when a light drizzle had started. At first she was glad to be spared his tight stares and accusing glances, but as the miles ticked away Faith began to feel sad and lonely without him.

She remembered fondly the days before their wedding, when Griffin would come to Merry's house intent on amusing them both. His boyish charm and wicked sense of humor brightened every afternoon. Would she ever see that side of him again?

The carriage halted. Faith fleetingly hoped it would be Griffin's hand that reached in to assist her from the vehicle, but instead it was a white-gloved footman's. Telling herself she was expecting far too much, too soon, of her newly acquired husband, the Viscountess Dewhurst emerged from her cocoon.

She was relieved to note that Griffin had not been so completely lacking in manners. He waited, with a purely unreadable expression on his face, for her to join him at the closed front door. It took more courage than she'd imagined it would to lift her chin and walk toward him with at least a semblance of dignity.

“I take it you had a pleasant journey,” Griffin said rigidly when she reached his side.

“The ride was surprisingly gentle,” Faith replied, wishing he would offer her his arm. Her knees were feeling stiff and weak. “I'm pleased to report I did not give up my breakfast, even when we hit an occasional rut in the road.”

“I envy your strong stomach,” he remarked with a slight grin. “ 'Tis a stroke of good fortune to be blessed with such an iron constitution.”

“To match my hard-as-iron head?” Faith quipped.

Griffin's grin flashed again briefly, and a delightful warmth rippled through Faith, softening the doubt and apprehension. If she could summon the courage to tease him, perhaps there was hope for the future.

Still, it was difficult for Faith to contain a groan when the front door swung open to reveal the butler she had previously tricked to gain entrance to the house. He was a tall, bone-thin man with a streak of gray running through the middle of his limp, dark hair. Faith saw the amused glint appear in his eye momentarily when she entered the house, yet it quickly disappeared when he discovered her sudden change in status.

“On behalf of myself and the entire household, may I offer my sincerest congratulations on your marriage,” the butler choked out.

“Thank you,” Faith replied graciously. “I look forward to meeting the entire staff and becoming acquainted with each and every one of them.”

It clearly was the wrong thing to suggest. The butler looked properly scandalized for a split second before his face slipped back to a formal mask. “As your ladyship wishes.”

“Are my sisters at home?” Griffin inquired as he handed his hat and gloves to a waiting footman.

“Yes, my lord,” the butler replied, seeming relieved to have a more familiar question. “They are in the music room, attempting to give young master Neville a musical lesson on the pianoforte.”

“Kindly inform them that I have returned from London, and instruct them to join us in the drawing room. I have important news that I wish to tell them personally.”

“I understand,” the butler said with a polite bow. “Shall I have refreshments sent?”

“Just tea.”

Faith's brow wrinkled at Griffin's answer. So this was not to be a celebratory meeting. No champagne to toast the bride and groom and wish them every happiness. A part of her applauded Griffin's lack of artifice, yet deep down she was disappointed

They walked side by side to the drawing room without touching, thanks to the wide foyer. Faith paused at the entrance, her heart pounding uncomfortably, worry causing the sweat to bead on her upper lip.

Faith was not anticipating a warm reception from Griffin's sisters. Harriet had never liked her, and young Elizabeth usually followed her strong-willed sister's lead. Faith told herself their opinions did not matter overmuch; it was Griffin's son she must win over.

Yet there was no denying that life would be far more congenial if her new sisters by marriage would accept her into the household willingly. With a worried frown, Faith settled herself in a chair near the corner while Griffin paced in front of the fireplace. They spoke not a word to each other.

When the drawing-room door opened, only two women walked into the room. Apparently the child had been sent back to the nursery.

“Griffin! You've come back!”

Young Elizabeth launched herself at her older brother, and he caught her in a warm embrace. He kissed her on the forehead, then leaned over and did the same with Harriet. Faith noted the older woman's stony countenance cracked slightly at this gesture of brotherly affection. Neither of the women had noticed Faith sitting quietly in shadows.

“Look who I've brought home with me.”

Griffin gestured with his hand, and three pairs of eyes turned in her direction. Faith's heart constricted as she gave her new family a wan smile. They stood together on the opposite side of the room, a united wall.

The space separating her from them was only a few yards, but it felt vast and overwhelming and terribly lonely.

“How lovely of you to bring a visitor,” Elizabeth proclaimed in a cheerful voice. “ 'Tis so nice to see you again, Miss Linden.”

“She is no longer Miss Linden,” Griffin announced in an unemotional tone. “Faith is now the Viscountess Dewhurst. We were married yesterday.”

Harriet noticeably pulled away from her brother's side. “Have you gone completely mad?” she hissed, her color fading. “Married. To her? If this is a joke, I find it to be in very poor taste.”

“I see that your sisters are well acquainted with your sense of humor,” Faith spoke up. Clutching her hands together firmly in her lap, she tried desperately to rid her voice of the fluttery, weak tone. “ 'Tis no joke, Harriet. Griffin and I exchanged vows in a London church yesterday afternoon. We are well and truly man and wife.”

Harriet gasped loudly at the indelicate reference, while Elizabeth merely looked puzzled. Faith felt her face go hot with embarrassment at her faux pas.

“Must I remind you there is a young lady present?” Harriet sniffed. She pulled a finely embroidered handkerchief from the pocket of her gown and pressed it beneath her nose. “I do not know how you conducted yourself while living at Mayfair Manor, but in this home we do not speak so openly of such personal matters.”

A shot of anger speared through Faith. Her remarks had been unintentional, due to nerves, but Harriet's comments seemed definite and cruel. Faith tried to work up the nerve to reply to this taunt, but could think of nothing sufficiently scathing to say.

“That is enough, Harriet.” There was a wealth of warning in Griffin's tone, but his sister seemed far too upset to heed it.

“What could have possibly possessed you to consent to such a match?” Harriet questioned, turning once more to face her brother. “And why such haste? You only left for London two weeks ago. Could you not have waited a decent interval before wedding?”

“I understand that you are surprised and shocked by this sudden news, but have care, Harriet. You are speaking of my wife and your new sister.”

Though Griffin's words were spoken calmly, Faith detected the faint tension in his jaw.

Harriet cast a deliberate glance at Faith. “This is not shock; 'tis a nightmare,” she muttered.

“Enough! You overstep yourself, sister. Now apologize to my wife.” Griffin's face grew harder, the taut expression cutting off any further protests from Harriet.

“That isn't necessary—” Faith began.

“Be quiet, Faith,” Griffin commanded, his hard gaze boring into her.

For a moment Harriet merely stood silently, her jaw clamped shut. Elizabeth moved closer and clutched her sister's hand in support. Harriet released a tight sigh and made a curt nod of her head toward Faith. “My apologies.” She said nothing more, but the fury in her eyes bespoke of her true feelings.

Tea arrived. Harriet made a move to excuse herself, but one stern glance of warning from her brother effectively prevented her departure. With obvious reluctance, she settled herself on the edge of a delicate upholstered chair, directly opposite Faith.

There was complete silence as the servants set out the tea tray.

“Cook sends her apologies for such a simple tea, my lady,” the young footman said hesitantly. “She hopes to provide you with a far more worthy dinner, to properly welcome you to your new home.”

“Everything looks lovely,” Faith insisted. “She has done wonders on such short notice. Please convey my sincere thanks to Cook for her efforts on my behalf.”

The servant smiled, then bowed and left. Faith and Harriet reached simultaneously for the silver pot, their hands colliding. The pot tipped precariously for an instant, but set itself to rights.

“Sorry,” Faith mumbled, snatching away her hand.

Harriet gave her a long, searching look. “I have once again forgotten myself. Forgive me. 'Tis your place now as mistress to pour the tea.”

“But this is a
family
afternoon,” Faith replied. “It is perfectly proper if you do the honors.”

“I wouldn't dream of overstepping my place,” Harriet said stiffly, folding her hands primly in her lap.

“I insist.”

“Oh, I couldn't ”

“Griffin?” Faith turned beseechingly to her husband for support.

“Just pour the damn tea and be done with it, Faith.” The viscount glowered at both women, then threw himself into a chair.

Faith struggled against the despair that threatened to choke her. Though Griffin had earlier defended her, he now sided with his sister against her. That hurt. As did realizing that winning Harriet over was going to be a nearly impossible task, if every small conciliatory gesture Faith offered was met with such open hostility.

Faith wheezed slightly as she tried to draw a breath, telling herself firmly that it did not matter. Harriet's blatant disapproval was the very least of her problems at the moment.

Yet the tears still gathered in her eyes, as much as she tried to prevent them. Faith tilted her head a bit, so no one could see her expression fully, and poured the tea.

“I take mine with just sugar,” Elizabeth offered helpfully. Wariness flickered in her eyes as she glanced at her older sister. “So does Harriet.”

The single snort of disapproval from Harriet was her only acknowledgment of the comment. Silently Faith dropped a large lump of sugar into the cup and handed it to a very sullen-faced Harriet. The other woman accepted it with a curt nod, then placed it untouched on the table.

“I think I'll have a whiskey instead,” Griffin replied, when Faith held out a cup in his direction.

Faith wished she had the nerve to ask him to pour her one also. Though she had never tasted anything stronger than wine, the supposed bliss of strong spirits held great allure at the moment.

Instead, she took a small sip of the tea she did not want and waited. No one said a word.

“Was the journey pleasant from London?” Elizabeth finally asked.

“ 'Twas fine,” Griffin answered.

“Any rain?”

“A bit.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth took a sip of tea. She looked uncertainly at her brother. “Did the roads get muddy? From the rain?”

“Naturally.”

“How tiresome.”

Faith sighed. While she certainly appreciated Elizabeth's efforts to engage in conversation, Faith felt too stiff and ill at ease to lend support. Besides, the subject matter of this riveting discussion was fast putting her to sleep.

Harriet seemed to be of a similar opinion. In the fading candlelight, Faith could see the other woman's eyes glaze over. Though never considered beautiful, Faith was surprised to realize what an attractive woman Harriet was, when there were no scowls marring her charming features.

“You have not asked about your son,” Harriet said suddenly, abruptly changing the subject. “I hope your preoccupation with your sudden wedding has not driven him from your heart.”

Griffin paused in the act of pouring himself a second draught of whiskey to glare at his sister. “I suggest that you do not test my rather limited patience any further.”

Harriet raised her chin. “The child missed you. He asked us each day when you would return.”

Griffin's expression softened. “I heard you and Elizabeth were trying to give him a lesson on the pianoforte. Is he at all musically inclined?”

“I'm not certain,” Harriet replied. “It is far too soon to tell. After all, this was only his second lesson.”

Elizabeth giggled. “He certainly likes banging on the keys.”

Harriet also smiled, indulgently. “He is a boisterous lad and when confined indoors tends to be more exuberant than usual.”

“I look forward to meeting him,” Faith interjected eagerly, hungering to mother this spirited child. Perhaps with him she could finally achieve what she truly sought, the companionship of a real family.

“He is in the nursery eating his supper and cannot be disturbed,” Harriet insisted. “He does not take well to strangers. I believe tomorrow will be soon enough for introductions.”