Secrets of a Viscount Read online

  If nothing else, Sebastian owed Belle her own life back. That was the reason he’d returned to England, was it not? With her having a Season he would finally be afforded a chance to talk to her. Though he’d wanted more than anything to set things to right with her, she seemed unwilling to speak civilly to him. Perhaps, he should come at this from a different angle.

  Perhaps the best way for him to make things right between them and restore their friendship was if he helped her find a match. Yes. That was exactly what he’d do. He’d help her secure a good match—not someone too old or too young. Nor someone as interesting as Hessians boot or more zealous than an eager pup. Someone young but mature, handsome but not vain; someone respectable but not a prig; intelligent but not demeaning. He might not have spent much time in London since his majority, but he was sure such a man existed and it would be his mission to find him. Then to make him fall in love with Belle. And why wouldn’t he, she was... Well, Sebastian didn’t exactly know what she was, nor did he wish to examine his thoughts of her too deeply. Instead, he needed to inform her of his plan.

  ***

  “Is he the one, then?”

  Isabelle jerked ramrod straight in the chair she’d been sitting in by the big open window in the library, leaning forward to do embroidery. Every muscle in her body clenched. “Lord Belgrave, what are you doing?” she asked of the arrogant beast who dared lean his head through the open window of Mrs. Finch’s library.

  He opened the window further and climbed inside. “I’ve returned to see you again.”

  “And you couldn’t have done that by coming through the front door?”

  He shook his head and flopped down on the dark green settee as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Which likely, he didn’t. “No. I couldn’t come through the front door. Apparently, I’ve been banned entry through the front door.” He shot her a triumphant look. “Now that I’ve answered your question. It’s your turn to answer mine.”

  “Who? Which one? What?” She asked in annoyance.

  He shrugged and put his booted feet up on the squat oak table in front of him. “Mr. Appleton or Lord Kenton. Have you set your cap on either of them?”

  She almost laughed at the absurdity, but the fact that he was alone with her in the library where they could be caught and her already tattered reputation further destroyed kept her laugh at bay.

  He frowned. “Is there a reason you’re refusing to answer?”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “No.” He drew the word out just long enough to prick her pride.

  “Well, then, you need not bother yourself to wait here any longer to hear my answer.” She flicked her wrist in a shooing motion to indicate he could leave the same way he entered. The sooner the better.

  “Ah, so they really are just friends as you’d claimed earlier.”

  Isabelle’s chest constricted. Of course they were just friends. Gentlemen were always just her friends. Mr. Appleton. Lord Kenton. Him. All just friends. But the fact that all of them only wanted to be her friend in some awkward manner or another didn’t bother her nearly as much as the fact that he was able to deduce that just by looking at her.

  “It was your severe reluctance to answer that gave you away,” he murmured.

  She gave him a pointed look, one she hoped that he’d interpret that if he were sitting just that much closer to her, she’d prick him with the end of her embroidery needle. “Now that you know the state of my courtships, you may see yourself out.”

  “And miss spending some time with my dearest childhood friend? I think not.”

  “I hate to break your heart, my lord. But my sister does not live at this address.”

  That sobered the grin right off of his handsome face. He cleared his throat. “She... We... Er...” He speared his hand through his hair. “That’s not what you think.”

  “So then you meant to come into my room that night and not hers?”

  “Well, no.” He frowned at her.

  “Then it is what I think. The two of you had planned an assignation and I got in your way.” She forced her best smile, even if it was wobbly. “As usual.”

  “The first part is correct,” he said. “The second...” He shrugged. “She was always in the way, too.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel better.”

  “It should.”

  “Well, it doesn’t.”

  “If you must know, I only agreed to marry her because she begged me. Then half a second after I agreed, I wished that I hadn’t. I went that night in hopes she’d change her mind.”

  “That explains your remarks about seeing up my nightrail,” she commented.

  He nodded. “I was hoping to upset her sensibilities and make her cry off. I knew that if I reneged she’d forever hate me and blame me for her having to marry Lord Yourke. But if she cried off, then it was on her.”

  “Such a gentleman.”

  He gave a lopsided shrug. “I try.”

  “As I remember it, you didn’t seem so against the marriage after the vows were said and we were at the inn,” she said tartly.

  A wolfish smile split his face. “That’s because by then primal urges were taking over.”

  “Ah, but they weren’t too strong because as soon as you saw me your only urge was flee as soon as possible—even if you acted like a primate to do so.”

  His smile faded. “You have to understand. I was young and foolish. I didn’t consider your feelings at the time, only mine. You rattled me, Belle. You have to know that.”

  “It’s for the best,” she said dismissively; not wanting to hear anymore. She knew he was a selfish cad. Now that he’d said it, she had no further wish to discuss this any longer, lest she reveal to him that the worst part was how he’d abandoned her when she needed his friendship the most. Not that it would have mattered too much, she supposed. Their friendship was probably only what she’d ever imagined it to be anyway. He’d told her almost every chance he found that he thought of her as an annoyance, while she’d regarded him with awe and fascination. Likely only because other than her sister, he was the only person close to her age who lived within walking distance.

  “How about if I make it up to you?”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “Yes, it is. Our friendship ended just after I behaved poorly, give me a chance to rise to the level of regard you used to hold me in.”

  That did it. His arrogance was just too much. He was too much. Everything was still just a game to him. She tossed her embroidery hoop to the side and stood to the full height her five-foot-two frame would allow then made for the door.

  His arm snaked out and wrapped around her waist. “Not so fast.”

  She dropped her gaze to his offending fingers. “Release me, you cad.”

  “No.” Without moving his hand from her person, he stood up and spun her around to face him, now with both of his hands on her sides, staying her. “You’re here in search of a husband, are you not?”

  She held his intense gaze, but didn’t speak.

  “Let me help you find one.”

  She laughed at his addled suggestion, then sobered. “You’re serious.”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “No.”

  His lips thinned. “Why not?”

  “Because you don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know that you prefer purple to pink and violets to hyacinths. I know that you’d do anything to get out of eating any kind of pork. You have a fondness to dogs and hated Rachel’s cat Felix.”

  “None of what you just listed is important to finding a husband.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “But you don’t disagree that I was correct on those facts?”

  “Perhaps.”

  “Whether you think they’re important or not, you have to admit that I do know you. Now, let me help you find a husband.”

  “Why, so you can bandy it about that you rescued the girl who once trapped you into a marriage?” Try as she might, she couldn’t
disguise the sob that erupted in her throat at those filthy words.

  “No,” he said softly. “I subjected you to a life of scorn and I’d like to make it right. Please, allow me to do that.”

  “I don’t think you can.”

  His smile returned. “You underestimate me, my dear. I’ll be back tomorrow morning with a list of potential husbands.”

  Then, not allowing her a chance to argue, he released his hold on her and climbed out the same window he’d entered through.

  Chapter Seven

  Sebastian groaned. Thinking of potential husbands was tough work. Not to mention, he felt extremely foolish sitting by the fire and flipping through the latest copy of Debretts like some debutante preparing for her first Season. He scowled and not for the first time threw a glance over his shoulder to make sure he was still alone.

  His tired eyes scanned the lines on the page and his scowl deepened. Were there no decent gentleman who were unmarried?

  Apparently not.

  Married. Gambler. Drunk. Drunk. Married. Addict. Womanizer. Drunk. Married. Gambler. Card cheat. Terribly dull. Too young. Married. Mad. Gambler. Impoverished.

  He turned the page and sighed.

  Drunk. Married. Devil of a temper. Decrepit. Married. Habitual skirt chaser...and married. On his Grand Tour. Compulsive liar. Sebastian blinked. Sir Wallace Benedict. There wasn’t anything wrong with him, exactly. He was just...odd. Odd was acceptable. Compared to the other options, a little odd would be more than acceptable. He scratched Sir Wallace’s name down and continued looking. One name wasn’t enough.

  Too young. Married. Married. In love with his hounds. Gambler. Obsessed with horse racing. Widower...with a brood. Married. Cad of the worst sort. Married. Betrothed.

  He flipped the page.

  Old. Drunk. Married. Married. Coward. Perfect. Sir Michael Smythe. He was young and loyal, he’d rightfully earned his title as a knight, and had a decent amount to his name so he wouldn’t see marriage to Belle as merely a way to plump his coffers. Not to mention, he and Belle were already acquaintances. The report his man had sent Sebastian in Italy had indicated as much.

  That gave him, or rather her, two choices. That would do, wouldn’t it?

  No. Belle might not like these options. He needed as many as he could find.

  Best to torture himself to find more now rather than have to repeat this torture another night.

  He turned his eyes back to the page, but was saved from having to actually read it when he was interrupted by his friend.

  “What brings you about?” Sebastian called to Giles by way of greeting.

  Giles eased himself into a leather chair and slowly looked around the room, taking it all in. “You weren’t there.”

  Sebastian sliced his hand through the air. “I had a more interesting engagement.” That was true enough. He’d joined Giles at White’s every afternoon since they’d come to London and to be frank, it was tedious. For a man who liked to travel and explore, sitting on one’s hind quarters reading a newspaper or playing cards was only entertaining for so long. Every day for the past week he’d tried to gain entrance to Belle’s and had been turned out. After he’d seen her there this morning, he didn’t want to have her disappear before he could tell her his plan, so he’d skipped his club and returned to speak to her, which is when he’d found her in the library.

  “Didn’t miss anything,” Giles said in his usual slow tone. “It was exactly the same as it was yesterday and the day before.”

  “And dare I suppose the day before that, too,” Sebastian suggested.

  Giles nodded with vigor then sighed in aggravation as he moved around to get more comfortable.

  “Would you care to test out my new settee?” Sebastian offered.

  Giles shook his head. “Settled.” He dropped his inquisitive green eyes to where Sebastian still held open his copy of Debretts, prompting Sebastian to close it with a snap.

  “Don’t ask. You don’t really wish to know.”

  Giles lifted a single brow.

  Giles. A little slow in speech and action at times, but nothing was wrong with him. He just required a patient bride. Belle was patient. She would complement him in other ways, too. She could be the chatterer of the relationship, allowing Giles to stand silent like he preferred. Neither seemed too keen on London or Society.

  Their only problem might be the difference in their sizes.

  Giles was built like a tower at an unimaginable four inches past six feet. By far the tallest person that Sebastian had ever seen; a good eight to ten inches taller than most. Sebastian himself felt dwarfed standing next to him and he was taller than average, too, being an inch shy of six feet. Belle’s five-foot-two inch body would look like a mere child in his presence as her nose would barely reach his sternum. He nearly snorted at the mental image.

  “Ahhhh, a blinding grin!” Giles teased, holding his hands up in front of his eyes and acting wounded.

  “Don’t worry, you’ll have a blinding smile of your own soon enough,” Sebastian informed him.

  Giles slowly dropped his hands, his brows knitting in confusion. “Why?”

  “I think I’ve found you a bride.”

  “No,” Giles clipped. His face lost all expression.

  With the exception of when Giles asked him what a certain phrase meant that a prostitute was shouting out the window as they passed a brothel, they’d never spoken of women. Of course that probably had something to do with Sebastian not fully understanding the phrase, either. Giles, Sebastian assumed, had no interest in women because well, he just didn’t. Likely he never felt he’d need any kind of knowledge because people of both sexes seemed disinterested in him in general.

  Sebastian’s disinterest in women wasn’t as innocent, however. He was interested. Undeniably so. He’d lain awake many nights trying to make his throbbing erection vanish while ignoring the sounds of lovers through the walls. But, blast it all, he couldn’t do a thing about it, he was still married!

  She might not know they were still married, nor what he was doing and if he was in the arms of another, but he was married to her all the same and owed her that dignity even if he’d inadvertently stripped her of all others. He wouldn’t be married to her much longer, though, he reminded himself. Soon, he’d find her a husband then he could sign the annulment papers free of guilt, then after that...

  “Did you ever find the cousin you were looking for?” Sebastian asked to change their topic of conversation and the mindless drifting of his thoughts.

  Giles shook his head, still penetrating Sebastian with his steady stare.

  “Do we need to go out tonight to look for her again?”

  “You won’t be going anywhere,” thundered the deep baritone voice of Thaddeus Knight.

  Just as it did when he was a young boy running and playing with the man’s daughters, Mr. Knight’s voice made every hair on Sebastian’s body stand on end. Reluctantly, he pushed to his feet. “How may I help you this fine evening, Mr. Knight?”

  “Stay away from my daughter,” his father-in-law blustered.

  Sebastian let his eyes wander over the body of the man he’d been so fearful of as a boy. His ruddy cheeks and purple nose were still the same, if not a bit fattier. His hair had thinned and his grey eyes seemed colder than he’d remembered. Not that that was much. To Sebastian, Mr. Knight’s eyes had always reminded him of a powerful, unyielding storm. One that Sebastian had thought to defy only once: refusing to annul his marriage to Belle. He’d heeded the command to get out of the man’s home and never return, but he had stood his ground over where he put his signature. “Sorry, sir,” Sebastian said as calmly as he could. “I can’t stay away from her. She is my wife after all.”

  The older man let out a string of vile curses under breath. “Dissolve your marriage and find another.”

  “No.”

  Mr. Knight’s breathing grew labored and raspy, his jaw set and his eyes narrowing to slits. “Why not?” he shouted.
r />   If he were a boy, even one of nineteen still, Mr. Knight’s tone and stance would have startled him and made him uneasy. Instead, he stood his ground. “I have no reason to discuss the state of my marriage with you, therefore, I won’t. So if there is anything else I can do for you...”

  “Give her the annulment, you blackguard,” Mr. Knight demanded, crossing his arms.

  Sebastian ignored his statement, sat down and opened Debretts as if he had a genuine interest in reading that claptrap again.

  Not one to be ignored, Mr. Knight yanked the book from Sebastian’s hands. “You listen to me, you filthy cad. You will annul your marriage and set my daughter free.”

  “And just why do you care?” Sebastian countered, not breaking eye contact with the older man.

  “She’s my daughter. I want what’s best for her.”

  “As do I,” Sebastian said softly.

  “You’re not what’s best for her,” her father raged with a sneer.

  Sebastian shrugged. “I know.”

  Mr. Knight blinked at him, seemingly stupefied. “Then what are you doing?”

  Without a word, Sebastian reached forward and plucked his copy of Debretts from Mr. Knight’s loose grasp. “Finding her a new husband.”

  Chapter Eight

  “No.”

  Sebastian looked at his father-in-law and shrugged. “I don’t see why you have a problem with it.”

  “Because you think to just foist my daughter off on some bounder so you can be free of her.”

  “Isn’t that what you just asked me to do? Sign the papers so she could be free of me?”

  “Your insolence is intolerable,” Mr. Knight snapped. “I just want you to free her, not pass her from one demon to another.”

  Sebastian grinned. He didn’t realize he had such a reputation. Undeserved, of course, but he wouldn’t argue. “I have no idea what I’ve done to deserve such high disrespect from you, nor do I care to know. However, what I do wonder is why you even care who she marries. Obviously you thought I wasn’t good enough for her for some reason or another—not that I have wish to convince you otherwise. But, from what I recollect, you sent her off to live in the country as a companion—forgotten. It was only due to my mother’s passing and her gaining a fortune that she is now in London and it’s not even you who she is staying with. It seems to me that you’ve disowned her. So what does it matter who her husband is?”