To Wed A Viscount (15 page)

“I had hoped to see him today.”

“Tomorrow,” Harriet stated firmly, rising to her feet. “And now you must excuse me. There is much that needs my attention. I will see you at dinner. 'Tis served promptly at seven. We keep country hours, you know. Come along, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth stiffened, then slowly returned the half-eaten pastry she was munching to her dish. With an apologetic shrug toward Faith, the young girl brushed the crumbs from her fingers and followed her sister out of the room.

Faith's mind spun. She wanted to roar with frustration. Instead she turned to her husband for support. Griffin raked his hair back with his hand and took a long swallow of his drink. His weary expression proclaimed he was not in the mood to oversee another battle between his wife and his sister.

Faith took a deep breath. She despised the knot of disappointment and emotion churning in her stomach, despised the weakness and vulnerability she felt.

She had expected a less than welcoming reaction from Griffin's family, knowing that Harriet had little fondness for her. Yet this open hostility was almost more than she could bear. There had been a gleam of outrage in Harriet's eyes that could not possibly be mistaken.

Suddenly, Faith wished she was once again on the road, traveling alone in the carriage. But instead of bringing her to her new home, it was taking her far away from this place of tension and discord.

 

 

“I shall wear the green silk this evening,” Faith informed the maid that had been assigned to assist her. “Please make certain it is pressed in time for me to dress for dinner.”

“Yes, my lady.” The older woman carefully extracted the gown from the cumbersome traveling trunk. “ 'Tis a beautiful dress. What jewels do you wish to wear?”

“None. This is only a simple family dinner. It would be vulgar to offer an opulent display.”

Faith felt her cheeks grow warm at the lie. There was in fact no jewelry to match the magnificent dress. She owned only the few simple pieces that had once belonged to her mother, nothing that was even moderately appropriate for this formal gown.

The maid eyed her slyly. She was an older woman, with many years of service in the household. “I know where the family jewels are kept. I could ask his lordship's valet for the key to the safe. There's a lovely diamond necklace that belonged to his lordship's mother that would be a perfect match for the gown.”

For an instant Faith was tempted. It might be worth suffering Griffin's wrath just to see the expression of horror on Harriet's face if she entered the dining room wearing their mother's necklace. That subtle reminder of Faith's place in the household would surely put a bee in Harriet's bonnet.

“All I require is the gown,” Faith said, reluctantly deciding to let the opportunity pass. Tweaking Harriet's nose was not the way to secure her position in the household. Like it or not, she was going to have to find a way to peacefully coexist with her new sister-in-law or else everyone would suffer.

'Twas really enough of a statement to wear the new, expensive fashionable gown to dinner. Faith could not help but notice the condition of both Elizabeth's and Harriet's clothing. Well-worn and several years out of fashion.

Yet it was not for Harriet's benefit that Faith had chosen this particular garment. She needed that dress for courage. She had worn it to Lady Dillard's ball the night she and Griffin had been wildly indiscreet in the garden. Perhaps the sight of her in the dress would spark a more pleasant, or even scintillating memory in her husband's mind.

With a quick curtsy and a look of disappointment, the maid left. The minute she was alone, Faith turned to her open trunk. Kneeling, she carefully pushed aside the layers of petticoats and frilly undergarments until she located a large, misshapen parcel wrapped in brown paper.

Extracting her prize gingerly, she held it aloft and carefully examined it to make certain it had not been damaged in transport. Finally satisfied with the condition of the package, Faith tucked it under her arm, rose to her feet, and headed for the door.

She poked her head out and surveyed the hall. No one was about. Clutching the package firmly in one hand, Faith quietly slipped out of her bedchamber.

She froze when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, but they turned away before reaching the corridor. Releasing her pent-up breath, Faith glanced at the longcase clock that stood in the hall and confirmed that she had nearly an hour before the maid would return.

Relying on her memory, Faith climbed the stairs to the third level. As a child she had on occasion been a visitor to the nursery, and she assumed it would now serve as the room for Griffin's son.

A young woman, dressed in a loose gown and clean apron, rose to her feet the moment Faith entered the large, airy room.

“I am the new Viscountess Dewhurst,” Faith announced haughtily. “I have come to visit my stepson.”

The young woman hesitated. Faith was certain the news of her sudden marriage and arrival had spread through the servants' quarters, but so apparently had Harriet's disapproval. Yet having come so far, Faith was not about to be denied. Summoning her strength, she stared down at the servant in a superior manner. And prayed the girl would be properly intimidated.

“The young master has just finished his supper,” the servant said finally, stepping aside.

Faith looked beyond her and saw a small boy quietly playing with a set of blocks near a closed window. The servant made a move to call the child, but Faith motioned for her to be still.

Cautiously, Faith approached the boy. He must have heard her drawing near, for he turned suddenly and looked directly at her.

Faith's heart leaped, and she nearly dropped the parcel she was carrying. He looked so much like Griffin! Somehow, with the confusion of his name she expected the boy to look like her former fiance. But there was no denying that this child was Griffin's son.

“Hello, Neville,” Faith said softly.

The child's expression altered. He was not frightened, but definitely wary.

Faith held out the large, wrapped package. “This is for you. I hope you like it.”

“What is it?” the child asked as he took the package and held it tightly in both hands.

Faith smiled. “Why don't you open it and find out?”

Hesitantly, the little boy looked down at the parcel, then back up at Faith. She nodded encouragingly, and he carefully began peeling away the paper.

Faith was amazed at his control. Most children, nay most adults, would have torn into the wrapping in seconds. But Griffin's son meticulously pulled back the strips until the gift beneath was revealed.

“It's a ship,” the boy exclaimed in wonder. He held it up for his nurse to admire. “Just like Papa's.”

“Does it resemble Papa's ship?” Faith asked eagerly, moving closer to the child. “I've never seen your father's vessel, but the man in the shop who sold the boat to me said it was a fine example of a trading schooner.”

“Will it float?” the boy asked, running the tip of his finger along the edge of the main sail.

“I'm not certain.” Faith bit her bottom lip, hardly believing she had been foolish enough not to inquire if it was seaworthy before purchasing the toy. “Perhaps we can test it tomorrow. There is a large pond on the edge of the south woods that would make a perfect spot for sailing ships. Would you like me to take you there in the morning, Neville?”

The child wrinkled his nose. “I don't like being called Neville.”

“Really? I didn't know. What should I call you?”

“Georgie.”

The servant quickly intervened. “The young master's middle name is George. Just this week he has asked to be called Georgie. Miss Harriet and Miss Elizabeth have indulged him, but if you prefer, my lady, we shall call him Master Neville.”

“Oh, no.” Faith smiled broadly. “Georgie is a splendid name. I could not have chosen a finer one myself.”

She knelt down and drew closer to the boy. The urge to reach out and give him a hug was strong, but Faith controlled the impulse. He did not appear to be the type of child that would encourage affection from a stranger, and this relationship was far too important to Faith to hurry.

“So, shall we try to sail your new boat tomorrow, Georgie?” Faith asked.

The child propped the boat in his lap, seeming to consider the question carefully. Then with a sunny smile replied, “Yes, please.”

Faith answered that grin with one of her own. “Splendid. I will see you in the morning, young man.”

She stood on her feet, reluctant to leave, yet not wanting to push the situation too far.

The little boy's gaze drifted to her face, and he gave her a puzzled frown. “Who are you?” he asked, with the forthright manner of an inquisitive child.

“My name is Faith,” she said softly. “I am your new mama.”

“Does Papa know about you?”

“Yes.”

The child nibbled the edge of his fingernail thoughtfully. “Then I guess it is all right.”

Unable to resist, Faith leaned over and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. He suffered the attention with good spirits and waved a friendly good-bye as she left. Faith practically floated away from the nursery. Things had gone far better than she had dared to hope.

The successful encounter with young Georgie bolstered Faith's sagging spirits. She sailed into the dining room dressed in her lovely green gown, feeling confident and renewed. Neither Griffin's silence nor Harriet's thinly veiled jibes during the meal had much effect on Faith's good mood.

Young Elizabeth made a considerable effort to be friendly, a feat that earned her scowls of disapproval from her older sister. But Faith would not be defeated by Harriet's attitude. She encouraged Elizabeth's conversation and was rewarded with an occasional remark from her husband.

But once they adjourned to the drawing room, the tension subtly began to grow. Faith became distracted as she began to wonder where her husband was going to be spending the night. In his bedchamber or in hers?

“The hour grows late,” Griffin announced suddenly, crossing the room to stand beside his wife. “ 'Tis time we were abed.”

Griffin held out his hand. Faith rose gracefully to her feet. While she was definitely nervous about being alone with Griffin, it was certainly preferable to staying and being tortured by his sister.

After a solemn good night to Harriet and Elizabeth, Faith took Griffin's offered hand and allowed herself to be led from the room.

They turned at the top of the steps, following along a corridor that ran the length of the house. The hall was lit by candles in brass sconces that were badly in need of polishing. Faith absently noted that the thick rug beneath her feet could use a thorough cleaning, too.

Finally they arrived at her bedchamber door. Faith turned to face Griffin, and her knees suddenly felt shaky. Would he join her? More importantly, did she want him to?

Yawning, Griffin rubbed his face with his hands. “It has been a rather long, emotional day. I imagine we both need a good night's sleep.”

“Yes.” She replied automatically, for in truth the last thing Faith wanted was to go into that vast bedchamber alone and try to sleep. She wished she had the courage to reach out and touch him, to tell him what she really needed: to be held tightly in his arms while she slept, sated and exhausted by their lovemaking.

Instead she stared down at the pattern in the carpet as they lapsed into tense silence.

“Good night.”

Faith lifted her head and saw Griffin's hand reach for the door handle of his bedchamber. Not wanting to be left alone in the hallway, she also gingerly reached for the door to her chamber, holding it tightly for balance.

“Good night, my lord,” she whispered, unable to hide the slight edge of bitterness in her voice. “I hope you sleep well.”

The click of a door latch was his only response.

It had been there, clearly in her eyes. Desire. Yet Griffin had turned away from it. He could hardly believe himself Griffin Sainthill rejecting such a blatantly sexual invitation. From the woman who was his wife, the one female in the world with whom intimate relations were sanctified by man and God.

Clearly the world had gone mad. Nothing about the evening, or the day for that matter, had turned out the way Griffin had planned.

He had expected Harriet's disapproval of his marriage, for he was well aware of her dislike of Faith. But he had not been prepared for the depth and magnitude of his sister's anger and resentment.

The attack had stunned Faith, too, yet she had managed to hold up her end and strike back. Once again he had misjudged his bride. She had looked to him for support and he had given it, but only once. Left to her own devices, Faith had stood her ground.

This hidden depth of strength had served Faith in good stead and made him more curious about her. Yet it also made him even more wary. Experience had taught him that surprises from his wife were not always pleasant.

“Is there a problem, my lord?”

Startled, Griffin glanced up and saw his valet hovering near the doorway. He had been so lost in thought he had not even heard the servant enter the room.

“A problem? No. Why do you ask?”

“Forgive me, but you were scowling so fiercely I thought that something was terribly wrong.”

Feeling somewhat self-conscious, Griffin stared at the servant without saying a word. Apparently, his passionate thoughts about Faith were not as easy to conceal as he'd believed. Even when she was away from him, he was unable to get her out of his mind.

Griffin tried schooling his features into a more neutral expression, then decided to hell with it. The servants would gossip no matter what he did.

A thoughtful frown creased the valet's forehead. “Did you require my assistance in preparing for bed, my lord?”

“No.”

The servant nodded, then moved to the large bed. He removed the coverlet and drew back the sheet. “Shall I prepare a warming pan for the bed linens? It was a warm day, but there is a chill in the night air.”

Griffin grimaced. His valet was trying to be subtle. Naturally the staff would be taking a keen interest in the newly married couple—and their sleeping arrangements.

“A warming pan is unnecessary,” Griffin declared.

The valet nodded again and began to busy himself brushing the traveling coat Griffin had worn earlier in the day Griffin stared hard at the man until he raised his head. With a flick of the wrist, the viscount signaled he wished to be left alone.

The valet hesitated a moment, then bowed politely and took his leave.

Griffin moved to stand by the window, the one located farthest away from the door that connected to Faith's chambers. He sighed and shoved back the heavy draperies to stare out into the darkness. 'Twas a clear night, but the sight of the brilliant moon did not bolster Griffin's spirits. On this strange and unsettling eve the stars seemed cold, distant, and unfriendly.

Shaking his head at his fanciful thought, Griffin abruptly closed the curtains, then began to slowly undress. He removed his jacket, then loosened the knot of his cravat, and removed his waistcoat and shirt. Instead of neatly hanging the garments in his armoir, he tossed them over the edge of a chair, deciding that would give his valet something to occupy his time in the morning.

Straightening, Griffin drew in a breath. His bare chest swelled as he drew in another. It didn't help. He still felt restless and unnerved. On edge. He glanced briefly at the connecting door, then deliberately looked away.

Nothing but trouble waited for him on the other side of that door.

Though he had drunk a fair amount at dinner, a brandy seemed in order. Fortunately, a decanter had been left in his room; Griffin had no desire to call for his valet again and even less to be seen wandering about the house at this hour in search of alcohol.

Lips compressed, he poured himself a portion, then swirled the liquid languidly in the large goblet. Though he tried to prevent it, his mind filled with thoughts of his wife.

Was she still preparing for bed, or had she already slipped between the crisp sheets? Wearing a sheer nightrail, perhaps? Or better still, wearing nothing at all. His mind spun with heated images. It would take only a few short steps to bring him to her side. Her eyes and attitude had clearly indicated she would not turn him away. She would not deny him a place in her bed.

That might alleviate the constant ache in his groin, but it could never relieve the doubts in his mind. This was the one time in his life where Griffin was determined not to let his cock do his thinking for him.

Sleeping with Faith would cloud, not clear the issues in his mind. First and foremost they needed to spend time together or else they would never cease misunderstanding each other.

Yet he was honest enough with himself to admit he still wasn't ready to completely let go of his anger. And he did not trust her. At all.

So here he sat. Alone. What a pathetic, sorry state of affairs. Marriage, Griffin concluded as he took a large swallow of his drink, was a vastly annoying institution.

 

 

“Look how swiftly she sails,” Faith cried out with excitement. She hitched up the skirt of her gown and ran along the uneven ground on the bank of the pond. “I think we've finally put those pesky sails to rights, Georgie. The boat barely tips at all. Why, at this rate she'll be across to the other side in no time.”

“Hurry!” Georgie called out in delight. The little boy eagerly grabbed Faith's hand and tugged. “I want to catch the ship before it smashes into the ground.”

Breathless and laughing, Faith let herself be swept along through the high grass, weeds, and muddy soil, as the two raced to beat the toy ship. The child's joy was contagious, and it did her sore heart a world of good to be carefree and relaxed for a few brief moments.

She and young Georgie had been coming to this very place for an entire week, and it had been the one bright spot in her otherwise trying daily routine.

It had also been the secret part of her morning ritual. Only the nursemaid who cared for the boy knew of these special outings, and Faith jealously guarded this rare, private time alone with the child.

“Here it comes!” With a squeal of delight, Georgie crouched low and snatched the boat out of the shallow water.

He held it close against his chest, and rivulets of dirty pond water trailed down the front of his formerly clean shirt and knickers.

“Shall we send it across again?” Faith asked as she gently tugged the toy from the child's arm.

She pulled the lace handkerchief from her pocket and made a feeble attempt at brushing him clean. The boy tolerated her fussing with good humor, but her efforts only smeared the dirt further. With a resigned smile, Faith put away the handkerchief.

Georgie knelt in the mud and tried launching the boat. It moved a few feet away from shore, then bobbed its way back.

“Why doesn't it work? Is it broken?”

Faith pushed the hair out of her eyes and stared across the small pond. “We are trying to sail her against the wind. That's why the boat keeps coming back. We'd best walk around and launch her from the same spot.”

“I'm tired of walking. Let's go in the big boat.”

Faith turned to where the child was pointing and saw that an old rowboat had been pulled high on the small bank and tucked behind a clump of bushes.

“Oh, dear.” Faith could instantly understand the allure of the small craft. To a young boy, it represented adventure and excitement. To her it posed only a safety hazard. “I don't think we are allowed to use the boat, Georgie. After all, it isn't ours.”

But the child wasn't listening to her halfhearted protests. He bounded toward the small boat with all the enthusiasm of a puppy let loose from the kennel. By the time Faith joined him, Georgie had scrambled inside and was trying to hoist one of the solid oars.

“There are two benches. One for each of us to sit on,” he announced with enthusiasm. “Look, I can do the rowing.” He won his struggle with the clumsy oar and raised it triumphantly. Faith ducked quickly to one side to avoid being smacked in the head, but Georgie was too excited to notice. “Can we go for a ride. Please?”

“But it isn't ours,” Faith repeated weakly. “It's wrong to take things that don't belong to us.”

“Aunt Harriet says that Papa owns everything on the estate. Is this part of the estate?”

Faith was tempted to lie. It would be the easiest solution and would avoid a lengthy argument. “This area is part of Papa's land, but that means the boat belongs to Papa. Not to you. Or me.”

“But Papa loves me. He says so all the time. He won't care if I use his boat.” Georgie frowned thoughtfully, resting his chin on his linked hands. “Doesn't he love you, too?”

Faith was momentarily speechless. Leave it to a child to get to the heart of the matter so quickly and easily. “ 'Tis not a question of love,” Faith said. “We must ask permission before we use the boat. We cannot assume that your Papa would allow it.”

Faith could see the boy struggling to understand her words. “I know Papa would let us,” he said softly. The look of pure longing on that angelic face was almost impossible for her to resist.

Faith chewed her bottom lip. The pond was smooth as glass, completely calm. It shouldn't be difficult to row the small craft across, even with Georgie
helping.
The problem was, she couldn't swim a stroke. And she wasn't overly fond of water unless it was in her bathtub.

Perhaps they could just pretend to row. Gingerly, Faith climbed into the small craft. Georgie gave her a wide smile of delight and scooted over to make room.

He thrust the oar out the side and slammed it into a small tree. Faith laughed and positioned the oar properly. “If you are going to row us across the lake, you must practice,” she declared.

At first Georgie thought that was a wonderful idea. But he had great difficulty moving the oars as they became quickly caught in the tall grass. After several minutes even Faith conceded that it wasn't much fun.

“There, I did my practicing.” The child climbed out of the boat and picked up the leading rope tied at the front of the vessel. “Now we can put the big boat in the water.”

Faith eyed the thick rope with speculation. She had no intention of allowing the child to row across the small pond. It was far too dangerous. They were in a secluded section of the estate, in an area seldom traveled by anyone. There would be no one near to offer assistance if they got into trouble, no one in range to hear their cries of distress.

But perhaps there was a way for Georgie to have a bit of adventure on the high seas. If she stayed on shore, holding tightly to the rope, the boat could drift out a few feet from the bank. She knew the boy would be unable to row more than a stroke or two. When he became tired, or lost an oar, she could gently pull the boat back to land.

It might not be the excitement Georgie craved, but 'twas more fun than sitting in the grass, pretending to be on the water.

Pleased with the plan, Faith climbed slowly out of the boat, nearly missing her footing as she landed.

“All set, Captain.” She gave Georgie a sharp salute that he returned nattily. “Let's put the ship in the water.”

Dutifully, the child stood beside her. Faith rubbed her hands together, smiling when Georgie imitated her actions. Leaning low, she pushed on the boat. Her feet slipped in the muddy ground and she nearly fell.

Georgie giggled. Faith smiled and tried again. This time she was able to move the boat a few inches. Every muscle in her back screamed with protest at the unaccustomed strain, but she had promised the child. If it took all morning, which it just might, she would get this darn boat into the water.

By the fourth push Faith had managed to dislodge the craft from its sandy bed. There was a slight downward slope that aided the motion of the craft, and the wet ground and slippery grass provided the necessary lubrication.

She was panting and sweating, but with a final shove and a loud
umph,
Faith at last succeeded in getting the boat in the water.

“Hooray!” Georgie jumped up and down with delight as the small craft bobbed drunkenly.

“Careful,” Faith called out anxiously, as the child scrambled to get into the boat. “Try not to get your shoes wet.”

“You sit here,” Georgie decided, patting the space on the seat beside him. “I'll do the rowing.”

Faith picked up the end of the rope and wound it carefully around her arm several times. She yanked it hard, testing its security.

When she raised her head, Georgie smiled at her and again patted the seat. It touched her heart to be given such a place of honor. At least one male member of the family was anxious to have her near him.

Faith shook her head. “I'll stay here on shore while you do the rowing. Then I'll pull you back, real fast.” She held up the rope to demonstrate, giving it a sharp tug. The boat obediently moved toward her.

Georgie shrieked with delight and gripped the sides of the boat. When the boat steadied, he enthusiastically picked up the oars. Face frowning with concentration, the little boy maneuvered the oars into the shallow water and tried to execute a stroke.

Faith was watching him closely, but the distant sound of thundering hooves caught her notice. She lifted her arm to shield her eyes from the sun and anxiously scanned the horizon.

In the distance, galloping along the top of the hill, were two riders. Suddenly, they made a swift turn and changed direction. Faith realized with a startled jolt that she and Georgie had been seen, for the riders were heading straight toward them.