To Wed A Viscount (24 page)

Lord Aston's eyes widened in astonishment, and he looked as if he might burst from indignation. Yet he gave no reply and escorted his wife from the room. Quickly.

Griffin shut the door quietly when they departed, resisting mightily the urge to slam it with the full force of his anger. But he would not give Aston the satisfaction. And he did not want anything else disturbing his wife.

There was no mistaking the expression of relief that washed over Faith's face as the door shut. Something in Griffin's stomach tightened. Clearly she had been far more upset by the encounter than he'd originally thought.

“Thank you, Griffin. I was uncertain if I would ever be able to get them to leave,” Faith said quietly. “I know you will find it difficult to comprehend, but the moment Cyril began speaking of our marriage my mind and tongue froze.”

“Yes, it is difficult for me to imagine you at a loss for words,” Griffin teased gently. But his remarks did not bring forth the desired smile from his wife's lips.

“Nevertheless, I am most grateful for your spirited intervention. I did rather enjoy watching all the bluster drain out of Cousin Cyril.”

“An odious man.” Griffin shook his head. “Yet I cannot help but observe that you seemed almost surprised that I would come to your aid. Have I been so lacking in character that you believe I will allow you to be insulted in my own drawing room? By such a sniveling worm as your cousin?”

“Of course I knew you would come to my defense.” She said the words, but it was clear she did not entirely believe them. Griffin was unsure if he should be flattered or insulted by this revelation.

There was a lengthy silence between them as Griffin tried to formulate the words that would aptly demonstrate his feelings on this matter.

“Let me assure you, Faith, that I shall never allow anyone to set foot in my home and proceed to verbally abuse my wife.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely.” Griffin gave her a slow wink. “That is a privilege I retain exclusively for myself.”

Only the viscount's quick reflexes saved him from being hit square in the chest with the large pillow his viscountess hurled in his direction.

The days of autumn slipped past. There was no further word from the odious cousin, Cyril, nor his solicitor, and gradually Faith began to relax. She no longer haunted the post each day, dreading the news that might arrive, fearful of a lawsuit or some other challenge to her ownership of her childhood home.

Apparently Griffin's forceful handling of the situation had stopped Cyril dead in his tracks. Faith was grateful to her husband for his intervention, though she felt ashamed to have needed his help. She was embarrassed that her cousin would be so greedy, yet she felt even more guilty because there had been some truth in his claim.

Her husband had come to her rescue, but knowing him as she did, Faith realized Griffin had had little choice. It was too much a part of his nature to deny anyone in need.

She was his wife, his responsibility, in essence his possession. He would not allow anyone or anything to harm her, if it were in his power to prevent it. She fully believed he would protect her with his very life if it were necessary.

Yet that did not mean he loved her. Did it?

Their relationship had improved significantly over the past few months and she was grateful. There was a level of comfort and ease between them that she cherished, a meeting of mind and spirit. It was a respectful and mature partnership, flourishing in many ways.

Yet they never spoke of love. She had revealed her heart but once to her husband and he had ignored her declaration. Completely. Faith took that to mean that he was uncomfortable with the emotions she felt for him and clearly did not wish to know about them.

So she never again spoke her feelings aloud. It almost seemed boorish and insensitive to bombard Griffin with her love when apparently it did not interest him.

Still her love grew, for she did not fight it. Faith allowed herself to be swept along with her emotions, to enjoy the novel feeling of being in love. The one concession she did make, for herself and her husband, was to never verbalize her feelings.

She did worry about becoming too dependent on Griffin, too needy and clingy. Faith treasured the friendship and affection he bestowed upon her and knew it would be difficult to forsake. She felt a constant need not to overstep herself, not to push beyond the careful boundary they had somehow wordlessly erected.

“Do you think we shall have afternoon callers today?” Elizabeth asked as the family gathered for breakfast in the sunny dining room one late fall morning.

Faith eyed the platter of eggs the butler presented to her, then spooned a heaping serving onto her plate. “I imagine the usual group will converge upon us this afternoon. Geoffrey Barton, Mr. Huxtable, Baron Harndon, Squire Jordan.”

Griffin's newspaper rattled suddenly. He peered over the top, directing his hard gaze upon his younger sister. “Squire Jordan seems to be coming around fairly often. Doesn't the man have anywhere else to spend his afternoons?”

“We are all flattered that the squire chooses to come calling. He is a very likable gentleman,” Faith interceded, noticing the deep blush on Elizabeth's cheeks. “I for one greatly enjoy his company.”

“As do I,” Harriet added.

Griffin scowled at the three female faces staring so innocently at him, snapped his paper crisply, then buried himself behind it, not emerging until his sisters had finished their meals and left the room.

“I honestly do not understand how these gentlemen can spare so much time away from their estates,” Griffin grumbled to Faith. “They should be attending to business in the afternoon, not paying court to a child. Elizabeth is barely seventeen, yet Squire Jordan gazes at her like a lovesick puppy. Huxtable is usually pathetically tongue-tied whenever he draws within three feet of her. And Baron Harndon is nearly twice her age.”

Faith did not look up from the hot chocolate she was pouring into her cup. “I believe Baron Harndon's interest has been captured by a more mature woman. While he is always solicitous and attentive to Elizabeth, she is not the reason he comes to call.”

Griffin nearly choked on the cup of coffee he was trying to swallow. “Mature woman? Do not tell me he is coming to see you, madame?”

Faith lifted a brow and stared at her husband with perplexity. “Why would Baron Harndon wish to visit me?”

“He was most attentive toward you during the harvest ball, taking far too much interest in your lovely shoulders and the daringly low-cut bodice of your gown.” Griffin carefully folded his newspaper and placed it beside his dish. “If memory serves me correctly, Hamdon has been in attendance at nearly all of the social gatherings we have graced these past few weeks. To see you?”

Faith took a bite of her eggs and chewed slowly. The look of indignant suspicion on Griffin's face was even more delicious than her food, and she wanted to savor every bite.

“If you had been paying a bit more attention, you would have noticed that we always see the same people, no matter what the social occasion,” Faith said with a smug grin. She skewered a piece of ham with her fork and added it to her plate. “That is the very nature of country society. One sees the same faces at every event, and more often than not, dressed in the same clothing.”

Confused, Griffin frowned, then asked, “If not you, then whom does Harndon come to visit?”

Faith rolled her eyes. “Harriet, of course. I fear he is quite smitten with her.”

“Harriet?” Griffin smiled softly. “Poor sod. He is no match for her high spirits and sharp tongue.”

“I agree, but her invigorating personality appears to be part of the allure for Baron Harndon.”

“Is she encouraging him to pay her court?”

“Not at all,” Faith bristled. “She is an engaged woman.”

“For all the good it has done her.” Griffin frowned. He pushed away his nearly empty breakfast plate. “I would not be displeased if she began to encourage some of the local gentry. Not Harndon; he is the wrong man for her. Perhaps we can find someone better suited for her temperament?”

Faith eyed her husband in surprise. “Harriet is engaged,” she repeated.

“I have no evidence of that other than my sister's word and a wistful gleam in her eye whenever she speaks of the man,” Griffin snapped. “Which is not very often. That does not overly surprise me since he appears to have forgotten her existence entirely. To my knowledge she has not received one letter from her fiance since my arrival.”

“He is fighting a war. I cannot imagine there is a great deal of time to be spared for letter writing,” Faith said with a certainty she was far from feeling.

“Other soldiers manage to correspond with their families.”

“Well, maybe Mr. Wingate doesn't like to write letters.”

The viscount did not bother to reply and Faith realized how upset he truly felt. Her husband had mentioned on several occasions his concerns over Harriet's future. Apparently it still worried him.

“Have you been able to learn anything about Harriet's fiancé?” Faith asked.

Griffin's jaw clenched. “Nothing of significance.”

Faith sighed. “You are scowling Griffin, which means you are uncomfortable, which means that you are not telling me the entire truth.”

His mouth twisted in a grimace. “I have received some information. Apparently Wingate can hold his liquor, has wounded one man in a duel, and when he is living in town enjoys keeping an expensive, flashy mistress.”

“Griffin!”

“I told you that what I had learned about Wingate was not of significance for Harriet. He sounds as though he conducts himself like every other hot-blooded gentleman who has too much time to fritter away. Perhaps it is better that he is in the army. At least he has a profession.”

“I think Harriet might find the part about Mr. Wingate's mistresses rather significant,” Faith huffed, fixating on the one aspect that truly distressed her. “Do you suppose he will give up these women after they are married?”

Griffin shrugged. “If I ever meet the man I will certainly suggest it, but I hold out little hope he will comply. Based on what I have learned, I worry more that Wingate might be drawn to a life of self-gratification and carnal indulgences. Especially if he resigns his army commission. I cannot imagine Harriet flourishing in such a meaningless existence.”

“I too had heard rumors, but Harriet chose him of her own free will,” Faith reminded Griffin. “She is certainly old enough to know her own mind.”

“Even though she is of age, I am responsible for my sister's welfare. I will not allow her to enter into an ill-suited marriage.” Griffin's gray eyes grew serious. “Above all else, I want her to be happy.”

Like you?
Faith wanted to shout.
Are you happy? Or do you still feel regret over our marriage?

For the first time Faith noticed the vulnerability and uncertainty in Griffin's face. Her chest tightened. Her role was to help and support him, not burden him with her own insecurities. She might have lost her heart to this man, yet she still retained some pride and reason.

It could cause the viscount even greater distress and embarrassment to be interrogated by her over the state of their marriage. Faith told herself she was sparing them both by not addressing this issue. Yet secretly she was angry with herself for lacking both the courage to ask and the fortitude to hear the answer.

They spoke no more of Harriet's fiance in the coming weeks, but Faith knew it still troubled Griffin. She too began to watch the post for letters to Harriet that never arrived. And she also started to view the local gentlemen in a different eye—as prospective husbands for her sister-in-law

Having lived all her life in Harrowby, Faith was used to the monotonous tenor of country living. At times she suspected her husband was restless and bored with this routine, for it was a far cry from the excitement and interest of his days as a sea captain.

But the viscount made an effort to be sociable, insisting that they host and attend various entertainments of the local gentry. They soon became a great favorite wherever they went, and no gathering was considered a success until the viscount and his bride made an appearance.

Quickly their days developed a pattern, a comfortable rhythm that brought a sense of peace, if not complete contentment, to Faith. She enjoyed their at-home evenings best, after dinner had ended and Harriet and Elizabeth had taken themselves off to bed.

Seated alone together in the drawing room, she and Griffin would discuss the events of the day or plan the activities of the remainder of the week. Occasionally Griffin would read aloud to her in a deep baritone voice that made her insides feel like a swirling cauldron of bubbling liquid.

When the clock struck eleven, Griffin would rise purposefully from his chair. With a wicked, teasing glint in his eye he would offer his arm and formally escort Faith to her bedchamber door.

Once there, the viscount would raise her hand to his lips, brush her knuckles lightly, and then bid her a pleasant good night. Faith would practically fly into her chamber, impatient with her maid to help her quickly disrobe. The moment she was clad in a sheer nightrail, she would dismiss the servant, admonishing her to attend to the cleaning and organizing of the clothes in the morning.

Then Faith would be left to wait, tense with anticipation and a slight edge of fear. Would he come to the door that connected their bedchambers and quietly knock? Or would this be the night that it all ended?

Nerves stretched taut she would listen anxiously for the tapping at the door, releasing her breath when it finally came. Then Griffin would step into her bedchamber, looking impossibly handsome, a ghost of a smile about his lips.

Faith always answered that smile with a warm, lingering kiss, pressing herself forward so they touched from breasts to hips to thighs.

“Are you feeling very tired?” Griffin would ask.

“A little,” she would answer, blowing into his ear.

“Then I shall be a most considerate husband tonight and allow you to fall asleep at least an hour before dawn.”

“I am honored, my lord.”

He would lift her in his arms and carry her to the bed, resting her in the middle. Pausing only long enough to strip off his black satin robe, he would come down beside her, dragging her mouth to his for a ravishing kiss.

Some nights their coupling was swift and lusty, other nights it was agonizingly slow and thorough. Faith marveled that even after so many intimacies there were still new ways of touching and arousing each other.

Griffin's skilled hands and mouth seemed to read her mood, to know instinctively what she needed to achieve fulfillment. He taught her how to please him and she discovered that heightened her own pleasure.

Faith was always alone when she woke in the morning, with the lingering scent of Griffin's masculine sensuality clinging to the bed linens the only reminder of where he had spent the night. And thus the new day began.

On Sundays they attended church, sitting solemnly together in the family pew, distracted from the vicar's sermons only when Georgie became restless and started squirming in his seat. Weather permitting, they would stroll home together after the service, arm in arm, with Georgie running eagerly ahead and Elizabeth and Harriet trailing discreetly behind.

It was not, of course, a perfectly idyllic existence. They quarreled, too. About his interfering sister who still persisted in giving her opinion and advice when it was neither sought nor welcome. Over the elderly gentleman who had been hired as Georgie's tutor, when Faith had specifically requested a kindly governess.

Though in time she had to concede that the tutor, Mr. Cabot, was a patient man, who appreciated his pupil's bright mind and did not wish to break his engaging spirit.