To Wed A Viscount (2 page)

Griffin scratched his head. He needed time to think, time to straighten this all out. “I will speak with Joshua Morton early tomorrow morning.”

“No!” The servant stepped forward boldly, then glanced nervously down at the boy. She placed both arms around the child protectively. “My mistress never told her father who you were, sir. I know that he hates the man who ruined his daughter, nearly as much as he dislikes his grandson. I was only able to come here tonight because Mr. Morton is gone from the plantation. I fear greatly what he will do to me and the child if he finds out I have seen you.”

A jolt of raw pain collided in Griffin's stomach. He glanced down at the boy. Even in its childish innocence, that hauntingly familiar face, black hair, and gray eyes were so very much like his own that Griffin knew he could not possibly deny the truth.
My son
, he admitted.
My flesh and blood. He has known little happiness in his short life.

His conscience pinched him. Perhaps the first years of the boy's life might have been different if he'd known of his existence, but Griffin could not be certain.

“What is your name?” he asked softly.

The child lowered his chin and stared silently down at the toes of his shoes.

“He is shy of strangers,” the servant apologized.

“But I am not a stranger, am I? I am his father.” Griffin swallowed his impatience and squatted down on his haunches, so they were at eye level. “What is your name?”

The child lifted his head and regarded Griffin solemnly. “Neville,” he finally whispered.

Neville! Griffin's eyes began to sting, but he fought against the emotion. His brother had been named Neville. Few people knew that fact, but he distinctly remembered that Rosemary Morton had been one of those few.

“I sail for England at the end of the month,” Griffin announced gruffly. Now that he had a son, the responsibilities of his newly acquired title suddenly seemed very important. “Can you be ready?”

“You want to take the child with you? Across the ocean?”

Griffin watched as tears welled in the maid's eyes and realized she had not considered this possibility. The child, seeing her distress, stroked her hand gently.

“Perhaps it would be best not to separate him from you,” Griffin said slowly. “I will make the necessary arrangements with Morton for you to accompany us. Once we arrive in England, I shall grant you your freedom,” he added impulsively. “You may continue as the boy's nursemaid until he goes away to school.”

The young woman took a deep, shuttering breath and lifted her chin. “I am not a slave. I'm a free woman, bound to no man or mistress. But I cannot leave my mother and sisters. I will come with you, to care for the child on the long journey, but you must promise to pay my return passage so I can come home to them.”

Griffin nodded in agreement. “Passage can be arranged back to the Colonies on one of my ships.” He reached out and gently ruffled the boy's hair. It was surprisingly soft and fine. “Dobbins will see you both safely to Sommerville Plantation tonight. When will Morton return?”

“Tomorrow night.”

“Excellent. I shall come for you and Neville tomorrow afternoon. Once you are safely aboard my ship, I will return to speak with Joshua Morton.”

The maid's eyes widened in alarm, but she didn't refute his decision. “Tomorrow afternoon,” she repeated slowly. “We shall be waiting.”

There was an awkward silence. Griffin slowly stood up. “Pray, in all the confusion I forgot to inquire. What is your name?”

The servant blushed prettily and managed a crooked smile. “Mary. Mary Dawson, sir.”

“I thank you, Mary Dawson, for taking such fine care of Neville. And I trust you to keep him safe until he is under my protection.”

“Oh, I will,” Mary replied earnestly. She dropped a small curtsy, then turned to the child. “Say good-bye to the captain.”

“Good-bye, sir.”

The sweet, trusting, childish voice echoed through the quiet room. Griffin found he had to swallow twice before he could reply. “Good-bye, Neville. I shall see you tomorrow.”

Griffin gave Dobbins a forceful glance.

“Aye, Captain, I'll keep watch out for the both of them,” the sailor said.

Griffin waited till the bedchamber door shut, before walking back to the four-poster bed and sitting slowly down on the edge of the mattress. Caught up in his emotional mood, he barely noticed when Suzanne moved closer and placed a comforting hand upon his shoulder.

“He is a fine little boy,” she said quietly.

Griffin nodded his head. He felt disgusted with himself for the pain the child had suffered due to his neglect. Logically he knew it wasn't his fault, for how could he have cared for the boy when he did not even know of his existence?

Still, something clenched in his gut. Injustice of any kind had always rankled Griffin, but cruelty to an innocent child was an unpardonable offense. Especially when the child was his son.

He shut his eyes for a moment to gather his strength. It certainly had been one hell of a month. In just a few short weeks he had become a viscount, and now it appeared he had also become a father.

 

 

 

“Do you think Griffin will arrive today, Harriet?”

Harriet Sainthill glanced up from the soft linen handkerchief she was carefully embroidering and smiled fleetingly at her younger sister.

“I suppose it is possible, Elizabeth. Griffin's letter arrived two days ago. When traveling from great distances, more often than not the person arrives before the missive informing one of the impending visit.”

“But Griffin won't be visiting,” Elizabeth insisted. “He is coming home to stay.” She lifted her arms above her head and twirled around with joyful abandon. “I can hardly wait. Once he arrives, I know he shall set everything to rights.” Elizabeth suddenly ceased her spinning. “Gracious, I just realized that I don't even know what Griffin looks like.”

Harriet shook her head and selected a bright red piece of silk thread from her sewing basket. “You were only a child when he left, barely seven years old. I imagine he has changed significantly over the years. Most men do, even older brothers.”

“It does not matter,” Elizabeth insisted. She flopped gracelessly into a worn chair, then turned her head to stare out the window. “I am certain Griffin will be dashing and handsome and charming. A true gentleman. Remember the lovely Christmas gifts he sent us last year? You often remarked how that beautiful silk shawl boasted the finest embroidery you had ever seen. Clearly he has exquisite taste.”

“It was Christmas two years past,” Harriet replied calmly, yet she held her tongue after one glance at Elizabeth's crestfallen face.

It was obvious that the seventeen-year-old Elizabeth was firmly convinced all would be well once their brother arrived. Harriet, older by several years and wiser by cynical experience, had no illusions about the future.

Griffin's appearance could very well mean their salvation, but it could also plunge them into great despair. Harriet had learned the hard way it was best to reserve judgment when it came to the male members of the family.

“Nevertheless, it shall be wonderful to have Griffin home with us,” Elizabeth insisted, but Harriet noticed her sister's hands were fidgeting nervously with the hem of her skirt.

Harriet immediately regretted both her words and attitude. The time might come quickly enough when Elizabeth's hopes would be dashed. It would only be cruel to hasten the disillusionment.

“I'm certain things will change once Griffin assumes the title,” Harriet allowed with a tight smile. “I too look forward to his arrival.”

It wasn't precisely a lie. At least the statement about changes. Still, Harriet was worried. She knew little about her brother, and what she had gleaned over the years through snatches of overheard conversations did not inspire great hope.

It appeared that Griffin was something of a rogue, with a penchant for the ladies and a zest for danger in both his business and personal life. Harriet could only pray that her brother wasn't a true rake, a man considered beyond redemption, lacking in even an ounce of moral fiber.

As unmarried women, both she and Elizabeth would be under his complete control, subject to his moods and whims.

“I'm hoping Griffin's past generosity will hold true once he returns home,” Elizabeth said. “It would be lovely to order a fresh new wardrobe once we put away our black mourning gowns.”

“Let us hope his business ventures have proven to be profitable,” Harriet said, finding it impossible this time to hide the bitterness in her voice. What if her brother proved to be as miserly in his support as their father? Harriet nearly shuddered at the notion. “It will take nothing less than a fortune to clear the debts Father and Neville left behind and restore our finances.”

“Is it really all that bad?” Elizabeth asked in a quiet voice, as she poked the tip of her small finger through a worn section of material on her skirt.

“ 'Tis bad enough,” Harriet replied, reaching for the scissors in her embroidery basket. She knotted, then snipped the end of the thread. “But that shall be Griffin's problem, not ours. Come, now, Elizabeth, no gloomy thoughts. Tell me about your visit to the village this morning.”

The smile Harriet sought came easily to Elizabeth's lips. Harriet's heart softened. Her sister was in many ways still a child. Unspoiled, fresh, and trusting. She would need protection from the world that was unkind to those who made decisions with their hearts instead of their heads.

Harriet had already decided that if Griffin was unable or unwilling to provide that protection then she would assume the duty. After all, she had been looking after Elizabeth since their mother's death, which had occurred only a year after Elizabeth was born.

“There was quite a crowd at the butcher's this morning,” Elizabeth said, and she began relating tales of her morning outing. “His wife has given birth to her sixth baby. Can you believe it? The child was a girl, just as all the others, but Mr. Jenkins seemed quite proud when he told me the good news. Imagine having six daughters!”

Elizabeth's grin widened before she continued. “Oh, and I saw Miss Linden in the apothecary. Her housekeeper has a nagging toothache and Miss Linden was searching for a cure. She inquired about your health and bade me to give you her regards.”

Harriet's eyes narrowed. Miss Faith Linden was one name she definitely did not wish to hear.

“She also inquired about Griffin's return,” Elizabeth added softly.

Harriet sat up straighter in her chair, her embroidery hastily tossed aside and forgotten. “What did she ask you about Griffin?”

Elizabeth looked surprised, and Harriet realized her urgent tone had startled her sister. But the question was too important to be withdrawn. So Harriet repeated it. “What did Miss Linden ask you?”

“She only wished to know if we had heard anything further about when Griffin might be expected home,” Elizabeth replied slowly. “I thought her interest in the family showed both concern and regard for our circumstances. She seemed most disappointed to learn I had no new information.”

“Oh, I can well imagine her disappointment,” Harriet responded grimly. “I have no doubt that Miss Linden is hoping Griffin shall rescue her from that ridiculous will her father left. Well, she'll have to look elsewhere for salvation. With Neville's death she lost her final hold on the Dewhurst title.”

“I don't understand why you dislike Miss Linden so,” Elizabeth admonished. “She has always been most kind to me. And you.”

“She has shown kindness only when it either suited or benefited her,” Harriet insisted. “Faith Linden is spoiled, selfish, and foolish. I never understood why Father wanted Neville to marry her. Though not openly touched by scandal, her family is hardly on a social par with ours. Her father was only a baron.”

“I do not believe that Father placed such a great emphasis on titles,” Elizabeth said quietly.

“Well, he was wrong,” Harriet retorted with a cynical grimace. “I confess to being thoroughly delighted that Neville never followed through on his promise to wed Miss Linden, for I would not have wanted her to become a part of our family.”

“Harriet!” For a second Elizabeth stared at her with pure horror etched on her lovely face. “How can you be so cruel? Poor Miss Linden waited years for Neville to become her husband. I should think that given your current situation with your own fiance you would have more sympathy.”

“Our situations are nothing alike,” Harriet responded hotly. She could feel the anger building inside her, that feeling of helpless frustration she'd had too often whenever she thought of her own uncertain future. “Julian is an important member of Wellington's staff. 'Tis his duty to the king that keeps him from my side.

“Army officers are a noble breed of men, with unquestionable loyalties and a tremendous sense of honor. Julian agonized over our future before he left England, but decided it would be best to wait until victory is won before we take our marriage vows. I feel honored that he holds my feelings in such high regard. 'Tis my privilege to wait for his return.”

Harriet uttered the final words with almost religious fever, hoping if she repeated it enough, both in her head and out loud, she might finally come to believe it. The truth was, Elizabeth's words had struck a sensitive nerve. Harriet's greatest fear was that she would end up exactly like Faith Linden, a lonely spinster, engaged to a man who had no intention of ever marrying her.