Reckless Viscount (3 page)

“Miss Granger…may I call you Abbigael?” At Abbigael’s silent nod, the lady’s smile widened. “Excellent. You’ll learn I’m not very good with formalities.”

Abbigael almost released a sigh of relief but caught herself. The difference between what she and Lady Blackbourne considered formal could be counties apart.

“Yes, my lady,” she responded politely.

“Anna, please, when we are alone at least.” Elegant brows arched over darkly intelligent eyes. “I cannot seem to get used to
my lady
and prefer to avoid it whenever possible.”

Abbigael was surprised to see that the countess appeared to be genuinely opposed to the formality of her station. Apparently, the lady was eccentric in ways more personal than simply being in business. Although Lady Blackbourne’s up-front demeanor was unusual to say the least, Abbigael appreciated the lack of prevarication.

“Of course, as you wish,” she answered quickly, seeing that the countess was waiting for her response.

“All right then.” With a smile and a nod, Lady Blackbourne shifted on the bed, lifting her skirts out of her way as she turned to face Abbigael more fully. “Now that we are on more comfortable terms, shall we get down to the business of your visit?”

Abbigael blinked at the abrupt change in tone and topic. There was a formidable layer of command in the lady’s voice that was assuring and intimidating at the same time.

Abbigael was instantly wary.

“I believe my father intended to discuss that with you and Lord Blackbourne himself,” she replied carefully.

Sir Felix Granger would have been very cautious in what he chose to reveal to the Blackbournes. Ever the politician, he would give them just enough information so he could not be accused of hiding anything, but not so much he might scare them off.

Abbigael’s was a prickly situation.

Lady Blackbourne waved a dismissive hand through the air. “Conversations between respectable gentlemen in wood-paneled rooms rarely get to the heart of any matter. Sir Felix thoroughly explained the logistics of the issue. I understand there are circumstances from your past that could give rise to damaging rumors if given the chance. However, I need to learn a bit more about
you
, my dear, if I am to help you.”

Abbigael tensed. The lady seemed kind enough, but history had taught Abbigael to guard against questions that delved into her personal past.

She shifted her seat and noticed one of her legs had fallen asleep folded beneath her as it was. She shifted again, trying to alleviate the painful prickles in her calf and foot and started to panic just a bit. They sat on the bed as if they were two school girls sharing confidences, but Abbigael was acutely aware of the vital importance of their conversation.

She looked at the grand lady seated next to her on the bed and took a deep breath. She had no choice but to trust the countess.

“Perhaps my father did not get a chance to go into some of the details of my past…”

“My dear,” the countess interrupted as she leaned forward and took Abbigael’s slim hands in both of hers. “Do not distress yourself. Your father told us everything he felt was pertinent to our agreeing to sponsor your London debut.” Her black brows lowered sternly. “To tell the truth, I think far too much was made of a situation that may have been better handled with sympathy and understanding. Grief touches us each in its own way. All we can hope to do is ride it out the best we can.”

The countess gave Abbigael’s hands a gentle squeeze and her eyes were filled with warmth as she continued, “I am deeply sorry you lost your mother at such a delicate age. Although time may have dimmed the pain, I know the wounds inflicted by some losses can never be healed.”

Abbigael stared at the lady with stunned gratitude. Never had anyone addressed the issue with such straight-forward compassion.

“Thank you, my lady.”

The countess smiled. “We will, of course, handle the elements of your past with discretion and care. Though I learned the hard way that these things are often best handled by being faced head on. London high society can be terribly intolerant.”

Hope burgeoned in Abbigael’s tight chest.

“My lady—“

“Anna, please.”

“Anna, are you saying that you and Lord Blackbourne have agreed to my father’s request?”

“Of course.”

Abbigael didn’t realize just how intensely she had been craving that answer until she nearly fainted from the strength of her relief. She tightened her grip on the countess’s hands and leaned forward in an earnest expression of gratitude.

“Thank you, my l—Anna. You have no idea how much this means to me.”

Lady Blackbourne smiled at Abbigael’s enthusiasm.

“That is why I came to talk with you. If I am to assist you, I need to know what you want. A husband, yes, I get that,” she said as Abbigael opened her mouth to reply. “Your father has made it clear that he hopes you will find a solid and proper match during the London season. But I want to know what
you
want. What does your heart yearn for above all else?”

Lady Blackbourne’s dark eyes searched her face in silence and compassion as she waited for an answer.

Abbigael got the very sharp impression that this woman understood what it was to dwell in dark thoughts and hope for brighter days. The empathy in the older woman’s gaze smoothed away some of Abbigael’s typical reticence. She struggled to trust the soft voice in her soul urging her to accept the friendship Lady Blackbourne offered. It was unbelievably tempting to respond to the romanticized question by expounding upon the years of loneliness and solitude that had gone on for far too long, or the grief that was still a part of every day she breathed.

But distrust and betrayal had been too prevalent in her life, and Abbigael answered with as much honesty as she felt safe to allow.

“I want a man I can depend upon. A husband who is steady and kind. And children to love.” She blushed at the last, fearing it revealed too much, but she refused to glance away from Lady Blackbourne’s keen regard. She could not afford to appear anything less than firmly resolved in her endeavor to gain what she sought. Finding her a suitable husband amongst English aristocracy was not going to be an easy task.

Her father insisted upon a match with a peer. In spite of everything, he had high ambitions and would only agree to a union that was both socially and politically advantageous. In discussing strategy with the Blackbournes, he very likely put a great deal of stress on the idea of keeping away any prospects who had nothing to offer and were only interested in her sizeable dowry.

Unfortunately, her fortune was likely to be the only thing strong enough to lure in a proposal.

Abbigael waited for the lady to respond, feeling more exposed with every second the other woman silently contemplated her answer.

Finally, Lady Blackbourne smiled in a way that transformed her resolute features into an expression that was slightly wistful.

“Then that is what you shall have. I promise to do everything in my power to help you attain such a worthy goal.”

“And I will do all I can to ensure you don’t regret your decision to help me,” Abbigael replied with fierce determination. She had no intention of squandering her last chance at the future she yearned for.

“Well, let’s hope your commitment comes with a heavy dose of endurance.” The countess’s voice held a note of somber advice. “The London social whirl can be brutal and most of the work will rest on your shoulders. The Blackbourne name will get you through some heavy doors, but after that you will be much on your own.”

Abbigael nodded in understanding, but the warning couldn’t dim the smile that spread her lips.

“Excellent,” the countess exclaimed as she slid to the edge of the bed. “I hope you will be settled in enough to join us for dinner tonight. Just the family, so nothing too formal.”

“I would love to.” Abbigael struggled with the curiosity that urged her to ask about the man from the library. She decided it was better to anticipate another run-in with him than to be surprised. “Lady Blackbourne, if I may ask, will your other guest be at dinner?”

The countess frowned and looked at Abbigael curiously.

“Ah, what other guest?”

Abbigael tried to answer with a degree of nonchalance she didn’t necessarily feel.

“I ran into a young man while I was in the library. I’m afraid we didn’t exchange names.”

“A young man?” the lady asked. “Handsome?”

Abbigael nodded, trying to subdue the warmth that invaded her cheeks. If she had had any doubt as to the inappropriateness of her encounter with the mysterious stranger, the countess’s hesitation in answering confirmed that the man was one to avoid.

“It must have been Baron Riley, though he claimed he would be returning to London this morning.”

Abbigael was reminded of the man’s rather loose interpretation of the time of day.

“Did Lord Riley speak to you?”

Abbigael heard the sharp note of concern in the countess’s question and noted her deepening frown.

“Only briefly,” she replied. To go into detail about her encounter with the baron could lead to further inquiry into her own purpose in being in the library. Too late, she realized her curiosity about Lord Riley may have backed her into a corner.

“Brief is good,” the countess muttered quickly. Then, as if realizing the cryptic nature of her response, she leveled Abbigael with a direct stare and explained. “Although he is an old and dear friend of mine, Lord Riley’s social activities define him as a man that is by no stretch of the imagination a suitable acquaintance for a young woman in your particular situation. Do you understand?”

Abbigael nodded solemnly. It was no less than she had suspected. “I believe I do.”

Lady Blackbourne eyed her carefully for another moment. Long enough for Abbigael to develop the urge to squirm and wish she had kept her curiosity under lock and key.

Finally, the countess smiled and made an obvious effort to insert more lightness into her tone. “Well, there is no reason your paths should cross once we are in London, so no need to worry.”

Chapter Three

The next week was a whirlwind of activity.

Abbigael remained with the Blackbournes at their country estate only a few more days before the entire household began to prepare for the move to London.

Lady Blackbourne insisted they make a few rounds on Bond Street when they got to London. Abbigael and her father had purchased several trunks full of gowns, underclothes and accessories before leaving Dublin. Even so, apparently by London standards she was still quite far off the mark for an heiress debutante.

The day before they were set to leave the country, Abbigael was in her bedroom packing up some of her smaller personal items when her father gave his customarily curt knock at the door. She hadn’t seen him much at all in the days since they had reached Silverly. At her call to enter, he came into her room like he always did, as if he were unsure what he would find. Abbigael almost smiled as the imposing Sir Felix Granger stepped hesitantly over the threshold and closed the door behind him. His keen brown eyes swept over the details of the room. He clasped his hands behind him and thrust his shoulders back as if he were facing down his opposition in the Privy Council of Ireland. In politics, Sir Felix was known for his impassioned and articulate speeches and steadfast defense of native Irish rights.

But when it came to his daughter, he became nearly mute, as if he were afraid to say the wrong thing and so said nothing.

Abbigael waited for her father to speak. He rarely did anything without a specific purpose so she knew his visit to her room was not for idle chitchat.

Sir Felix crossed the room to stare out the windows she had thrown open earlier to let in the country air. At home in county Donegal, she often had the windows open far into the colder months, preferring the chill of a winter wind over the stuffiness of too much close confinement.

“I am returning to Dublin this evening.”

Abbigael blinked at her father’s broad back. Tonight? She’d known he had professional commitments that would prevent him from participating in her London debut, but Abbigael hadn’t expected him to leave England quite so soon. Though she was disappointed, she wasn’t exactly surprised by his swift departure. Since her mother’s death, his personal passion was securely tied to Irish politics.

She nodded silently behind him, knowing he would not appreciate any expression of distress.

Turning at the window, her father faced her squarely. Tension encircled his mouth and pulled at the center of his forehead.

“You will be in excellent hands with the Earl and Countess of Blackbourne. They know what needs be done and seem graciously willing to do so. For my part, I will only be in the way and there are matters that need my attention back in Ireland. I expect you to take the advice and direction of Lady Blackbourne to heart. But follow your better judgment,” he added quickly, then hesitated as if he wanted to add something else but changed his mind. “Lady Blackbourne is a bit unconventional. A fact that may work in your favor.”

He approached Abbigael as she stood next to the small vanity table where her meager collection of jewelry was laid out in preparation for the trip to town. He unclasped his hands from behind his back and set them heavily on her slim shoulders.