To Wed A Viscount (5 page)

Faith squirmed uncomfortably in her chair, saying nothing. Gradually his laughter died away. The room became strangely silent.

“You aren't joking, are you?” The viscount raked a hand through his dark hair. “You really must marry within the year or lose Mayfair Manor?”

Faith's nerves tightened. “Not just marry, my lord. In order to comply with the dictates of the will, I must marry Viscount Dewhurst.”

His mouth quirked again. “Me? You must marry me?”

Faith struggled mightily to keep her gaze on his. “Well, you are Viscount Dewhurst.”

“Surely not the one named in the will?”

“Of course not.” Faith huffed and tried to ignore the growing tone of amusement in his speech and manner. How dare he think this was funny? “However, you are Viscount Dewhurst, and if we marry, Mayfair Manor shall be mine. Or, rather, ours.”

“You're serious.”

“Absolutely.”

Her strong, steady answer wiped the grin from his face. Quickly. “Have you consulted a lawyer? Surely there must be another solution to this predicament aside from marriage?”

“I cannot afford a lengthy court battle. If I forfeit the manor I shall be given a modest income that is more than adequate for my needs. I will not be destitute.” Faith tried to ignore the hollow feeling in her stomach and admonished herself to temper the look of anxious hope she felt certain was lighting her eyes.

“If you must know the entire truth, 'tis more than just losing my home, which I dearly love, that rankles me. It is my cousin's wife, Amelia. I've never cared for her. She lacks refinement, common sense, even basic kindness. She is a frightful woman and has been completely unbearable since her husband became a baron. The last time we met, she insisted that I address her as
Lady Aston
. I almost choked.

“ 'Tis petty of me, I suppose, but I would do nearly anything so as not to give her the satisfaction of taking everything that is mine.”

“Even marry a stranger?” Griffin remarked. His eyebrow lifted again. “She must be very frightful, indeed.”

Faith blushed. Perhaps the horrid Amelia was not the only reason. Perhaps she wanted a chance at marriage, a family, maybe even children one day. She had wasted the better part of her youth waiting for Neville to make good on his promise of marriage. And now it was too late. Faith knew the harsh truth. She wasn't rich enough, pretty enough, or young enough to find a husband any other way.

“You are my last hope, my lord. My only hope.”

She had said it. Spoken the words that revealed her greatest fears, her truest needs. It had been difficult but not as impossible as she'd imagined. In a strange way, Faith now felt as if a great weight had been lifted from her. No matter what happened from this point on, the knowledge that she had found the courage to do this would be a comfort.

His eyes were sparkling silver jewels, revealing nothing of his thoughts. Was he completely shocked by her revelations? Or worse, repulsed by her proposition? Faith swallowed the impulse to turn and run and instead dredged up the courage to face him.

“Tempting as your offer is, regrettably, I must refuse.”

“You're saying no?” Faith whispered, hardly believing all her carefully thought out plans were beginning to crumble.

She struggled to find the right words, the ones that would force him to reconsider, to see the wisdom of her arguments. The words that would somehow miraculously make him change his mind. But they would not come.

Faith lifted her chin and searched his handsome face for a sign, a hint of his emotions. He stared back at her without expression, but his eyes were narrow and speculative. They never seemed to blink.

And then suddenly she imagined this conversation from his side. What could possibly be more pathetic than a plain, unimportant spinster begging a handsome, viral nobleman to marry her? For honor's sake? Hardly.

Faith abruptly stood up. Her heart seemed to stumble over a beat, but with effort she contained herself.

“I'm sorry to disappoint you,” he said softly.

Disappoint me?
Faith felt ill. His gently uttered apology was the final humiliation. She took three backward steps, praying her legs would support her.

“The fault is mine, my lord.” She spoke through trembling lips. “I should never have asked you to consider honoring your brother's commitments. If I had pushed harder for marriage while Neville was alive, I would not find myself ruined today.”

“Ruined?”

The puzzlement and sympathy in his face was her undoing. Never in her life had she felt so small. It suddenly became utterly impossible to stay in his company. “No need to ring for a servant to see me out,” Faith murmured. She turned and headed rapidly for the door. “I'll send over a work crew tomorrow morning to help begin the roof repairs, as I promised.”

Faith flushed at her choice of words.
Promised
. God help her, if she lived to be a hundred she would never again pin her hopes and dreams on the promises made to her by another.

Griffin watched Faith flee the room, and his conscience pricked at him. She had been too proud, too willful to break down in front of him, but her emotions had been clearly visible in her face. Keen disappointment and total despair. Surprisingly, her stricken expression at his refusal to even consider her outrageous proposal had cut him deep. Far deeper than he'd expected.

He hadn't meant to be so blunt in his answer, so unsympathetic to her plight. But she had caught him unawares, on a decidedly bad day. Though as of late that appeared to be the only sort of day he experienced. Bad.

With a heavy sigh Griffin turned to follow after her. As he strode quickly down the hallway, he heard a slight scuffling noise up ahead in the front foyer, along with the sound of several female voices.

Perfect!
His sisters had returned from their afternoon visit with the vicar. Griffin's already grim mood soured further.

Still, he lengthened his stride and arrived just in time to see the back of Faith's skirts as she scrambled out the front door. Barging rudely past his sister Elizabeth, Griffin gave chase.

“Miss Linden, wait. Miss Linden!”

She did not pause, nor turn her head. Instead, she lifted her skirts and quickened her gait, shooting forward like an arrow. A sudden gust of wind blew her bonnet askew. Griffin saw her reach up and steady it with one hand, but she did not slow her step. Griffin suspected that even if the hat had flown from her head she would not have stopped to retrieve it.

Griffin's lips curled in disgust. As much as he felt obligated to clear the air between them, he was not about to go chasing after Faith like some demented suitor. His earlier feelings of guilt dissolved into frustration. Now it appeared it would be necessary to call upon her in order to straighten out this misunderstanding.

A strong hand grabbed his arm. Griffin looked down and realized his sister stood by his side.

“What was she doing here?” Harriet demanded. She released her hold on Griffin and placed her hands on her hips. “I did not know she was planning to visit. Why did you receive her without a proper chaperon in attendance?”

Griffin turned, then paused. “I assume you are referring to Miss Linden?” he countered, glaring down to give Harriet his full measure of attention, while hoping this powerful regard might temper her hostility.

“Naturally I was referring to Miss Linden,” Harriet huffed. She shifted from one foot to the other. “What did she want?”

Griffin grunted with a grudging respect. Many a hardened sailor had paled beneath a windblown tan when on the receiving end of his solid stare. But Harriet hadn't even blinked. Instead, her chin had tipped higher in the air.

“Miss Linden wanted to speak with me,” Griffin said.

“About what?”

“A personal matter.”

“What sort of personal matter?”

Griffin almost laughed. Harriet's tenacity was unmatched. A dimple appeared in his cheek. She wrinkled her nose at him, and Griffin broke into a chuckle. “This matter does not concern you, sister. Please, give it no further thought.”

Thinking the matter closed, Griffin turned on his heel and strolled to the drawing room. The slight sound of footsteps behind him alerted Griffin to the fact that both Harriet and Elizabeth were dogging his steps.

Clearly Harriet had not been mollified by his answer. He had barely set foot inside the drawing room when his sister spoke.

“I would like to know the purpose of Miss Linden's visit and precisely what she said to you,” Harriet demanded, throwing out her words like a challenge she intended to win.

For the moment, Griffin ignored her. Crossing the drawing room's faded carpet, he moved to the sideboard, his goal the large crystal whiskey decanter.

Thanks to the open windows, the air smelled clean and fresh, despite the thin layer of dust that coated nearly every surface. For an instant, Griffin felt a sharp pang of longing for the tangy freshness of the open sea. How dreadfully he missed it!

It seemed like everything in this wreck of a house was covered with dirt and mold and dust.

He poured himself a full measure of whiskey and took a long swallow before turning to face Harriet. She had taken up a position near the unlit fireplace, with Elizabeth by her side.

Griffin had trouble hiding his admiration. He had never before seen a female who could match her for sheer bravado. Except perhaps Faith. It had taken tremendous courage to come here today and lay her rash proposal before him. Once again, he chided himself for his unsympathetic response.

But it appeared he had more pressing matters that needed attention. Griffin turned his most charming smile upon his sisters. Elizabeth's eyes brightened with relief, and she responded immediately with a sweet grin. Harriet's lips never moved. She looked over at him expectantly.

“Miss Linden wished to discuss her father's will,” Griffin finally admitted.

“I knew it!” Harriet exclaimed. “That little schemer. I hope the hasty departure we witnessed meant you threw her out, Griffin. I feel certain she would do or say almost anything to get her own way. She was a dreadfully spoiled little girl who has grown into a totally indulged woman. I think it was wise of you to steer clear of her.”

Griffin took a moment to mull over his sister's passionate words. Harriet's dislike of Miss Linden was never in question, her earlier attitude had been very clear, yet she almost seemed repelled by her. Such strong emotion piqued his curiosity.

“Why do you dislike Miss Linden so much?”

Elizabeth gasped and turned a worried eye toward her older sister. “I think I shall speak with Cook about this evening's supper. You know how she tends to overcook the beef if not diplomatically reminded to have care. If you will excuse me.”

Elizabeth was out the door like a shot.

Griffin's attention was now totally engaged, as this strange situation grew more fascinating by the minute. “Now, what do you suppose could have made our little sister so uncomfortable? Any ideas, Harriet?”

She gave a most unladylike snort. “Elizabeth is a sensitive girl who dislikes confrontation of any kind. 'Tis better she left. Now we can speak freely.”

“I never intended to do otherwise,” Griffin replied smoothly.

The swift lift of Harriet's right eyebrow told him she didn't believe that for an instant. But she held her tongue. Harriet moved away from the fireplace and settled herself in a dusty, oversize chair.

Griffin took the chair opposite hers and leaned forward with his elbows propped on his thighs.

“I'm listening,” Harriet stated calmly.

Griffin could have sworn that Harriet's mouth curved into the faintest hint of a smile.

“And I'm still waiting for an answer to my question,” Griffin explained, hoping to discover the source of his sister's bitterness. “Why do you dislike Miss Linden?”

Harriet shifted in her chair. “I don't precisely dislike Miss Linden. I do, however, mistrust her. Completely. She was engaged for many years to our brother, Neville, yet they never married.

“As far as I am concerned, Neville's death severed the relationship she had with this family. I fear that Miss Linden will now attempt to impose herself upon us, utilizing her past association. Her coming here today to speak with you only confirms my suspicions.”

“Why did Neville and Miss Linden never marry?”

Harriet sighed. “I'm not quite sure. Lord knows, both Lord Aston and Father tried everything to make it happen.”

“Did Neville have any specific objections to Miss Linden or do you believe he was of a mind to avoid marriage altogether?” Griffin asked.

Harriet shrugged. “I have no idea. He never actually spoke out against her, not specifically, yet his actions certainly revealed his true feelings about the matter. If he wanted her for his wife, he would have married her. But he did not.”

Griffin rubbed his chin in contemplation. “Yet Father insisted?”

Harriet's head bobbed up and down. “Oh, yes. Father insisted. Constantly and loudly. It was all they ever talked, or rather argued, about whenever Neville was home.” Her expression turned sour. “If Father would have only spent a mere fraction of his time and energy on the concerns of his other children, not to mention the financial well-being of the estate, we would not be in such dire circumstances today.”

“You blame Miss Linden for that?”

“I hold Miss Linden responsible for her share of this problem,” Harriet stated firmly.

“I see.” Griffin leaned back in his chair. In an odd way he felt relief, for her explanation told him more of what had occurred for the past few years. It shed light on the reason behind Harriet's strong dislike of Miss Linden and also assured Griffin that his original assessment of his sister was correct.

She might be stubborn, forceful, and strong willed, but it was not in her nature to be so mean-spirited without justification. She was clearly convinced of the rightness of her position concerning Miss Linden. Griffin, however, was not as certain.

Harriet cleared her throat. “You have not told me specifically what Miss Linden said to you this afternoon.”

Griffin snorted. “Do I really need to say it?”

“That absurd will?”

“I take it you have also heard about the will that Miss Linden's father left?”

Harriet visibly bristled. “Naturally. Half the town has heard of that ridiculous will.”

“I hadn't.” Griffin leaned back in his chair. “And since it concerns me directly, I find it rather curious that I was not informed of it by my dear, sweet, loving sister.”

“Elizabeth would not have known how to approach such a delicate subject with you,” Harriet countered, lifting her chin and looking him straight in the eye. “Besides, the matter concerned the former viscount. Miss Linden was engaged to Neville, not you. Perhaps he has ruined her, but he is certainly not here to be held accountable.

“I know that men carry an inordinate amount of pride and arrogance and a vastly overinflated notion of honor. You might have succeeded the title from our eldest brother, but you are not responsible for his actions.”

Neville ruined Faith?
A vivid picture appeared in his mind, of Neville and Faith locked in a passionate embrace. It made the normally unprudish Griffin decidedly uncomfortable. “Why do you say that she is ruined?”

Harriet gave him a look that said she thought him a dense child. “No one will have her for a wife now. And that ludicrous will her father left has sealed her fate. Without the financial riches of her estate, who would want her? She is neither young, nor pretty, nor biddable. Besides, Faith Linden will forever be known in this county as Neville's unwanted fiancée. Most men are rather particular about taking the leavings of others, are they not?”

That notion startled him. Neville's leavings? Just how far had his brother gone with his fiancée? Or rather, if Harriet's interpretation of Miss Linden's shallow character was correct, how far had Faith gone in her attempt to secure her position as the future Viscountess Dewhurst? Had she foolishly allowed herself to be compromised before her wedding vows were spoken?

Griffin slowly blew out his breath. If his sister meant to discourage his interest and concern for Miss Linden, she had severely misjudged him. Harriet's words were having the opposite effect.

She cast him a sidelong glance. “Perhaps I should have warned you of the will. I apologize for my oversight. I suspected Miss Linden would attempt to contact you in an effort to gain your sympathy, but even I underestimated her audacity. Hopefully we can now put this unpleasant business behind us.”

Griffin gave his sister a noncommittal smile. This conversation had only served to reinforce the notion that he needed to speak to Faith directly and honestly about her relationship with his brother. But Griffin was certainly not foolish enough to let Harriet know of his intentions.

He had learned much about his siblings since his return, especially Harriet. She was a complex woman, often too somber, too mired in duty and appearance, too involved with always doing and saying the proper thing. There were times when he honestly felt she was simply too exhausting to be around.

Yet there was another side to the elder of his sisters. Harriet was also competent and caring and unfailingly devoted to the family, himself included. She had been loving and welcoming to his young son, holding her tongue despite the speculation in her eye when he introduced the boy.

Griffin believed that Harriet suspected the true circumstance of his child's birth, but for once had kept her curiosity and questions to herself. He was grateful for her restraint and her unspoken show of support, realizing he would need all the allies he could muster when it became known that his child was indeed a bastard.

“Did Miss Linden say anything about young Neville?” Harriet inquired anxiously, as if somehow sensing his thoughts had turned to his child.

“No.” A cold numbness swept through Griffin's body at the mention of his son's name. “That nasty cold has kept him confined to the nursery since we arrived, with only his nursemaid, you, me, and Elizabeth for company. Apparently the servants haven't yet had a chance to gossip to the village about him.”

Harriet nodded her head eagerly. “I believe you are correct. The fact that Miss Linden never mentioned him means she doesn't know of his existence. I would not be at all surprised if she tried to appeal to your parental instincts when making her outrageous proposal and offering herself as a surrogate to your motherless son.”

“Another role she is ill-equipped to fill?” Griffin teased, unable to help himself. When it wasn't directed toward him, Harriet's indignation and anger could be most amusing.