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Authors: Elizabeth Bailey

Tags: #regency romance, #clean romance, #sweet romance, #traditional romance, #comedy of manners, #country house regency

VIscount Besieged (5 page)

BOOK: VIscount Besieged
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The feathers
fluffed up again, and Isadora opened her mouth to challenge this
opinion in no uncertain terms. But wait, she warned herself. It
would not do to blurt out her plans to him. She must be discreet.
Particularly when she did not know what he intended. Let him
believe her docile for the moment.

Suppressing with
some difficulty the hot words that had risen to her tongue, she
turned towards the house.


I
had better take you in and present you to Mama and the
others.’

The viscount
seemed tacitly to accept the change of subject. He fell in beside
her. ‘I only hope they don’t suffer from as great a shock as you
evidently did.’

Isadora glanced
up at him. ‘Well, I was not expecting you to be—’

She halted all
at once, realising just what it was that she had not expected. What
a fool she was not to have questioned it before.


You
cannot be Lord Roborough.’

He stopped and
turned, raising his brows. ‘Why can I not?’


You
are not old enough.’

Which was true.
He was scarcely a boy, for his countenance had the stamp of
maturity and his figure was too athletically moulded, but he could
not be more than thirty, and he did not behave like a family man.
And that was not all.


Besides,’ she added, running her eyes down the fashionable cut
of his black cloth frock-coat and breeches, with their accompanying
black waistcoat and cravat, ‘you are in mourning.’


Like
you,’ he agreed. ‘Did not Thornbury tell you?’


He
told us only what you wrote in that stupid note,’ Isadora said,
quite forgetting her vow not to spoil Mama’s chances.


Was
it stupid? I dare say it was, for I know I was distracted when I
wrote it.’


Distracted?’


Extremely so. I had only just come into the title—’


Good
heavens! Then you are not—’


I am
not the Lord Roborough you were expecting, obviously.’ He gave a
shrug of resignation. ‘Of course, I had forgotten. Thornbury told
me I had not mentioned it in the letter I wrote. The case is, Miss
Alvescot, my father died but a week or two after your
own.’

Isadora stared
at him as enlightenment dawned. ‘Then he did not even receive Mr
Thornbury’s first letter?’


If
he did, he was not in any condition to acknowledge it. By the time
I received what must have been the second letter, I am afraid that
everything was at sixes and sevens and I simply had no time to deal
with it properly. So—’


This
is terrible,’ Isadora broke in, quite appalled. ‘You have no idea
of the truly shocking things we have been saying about you. We
thought how very uncivil of you it was, you see, not even to write
a letter of sympathy to Mama. Particularly when you had known all
along that Papa was not going to recover. At least, your father
must have done so, for Thornbury wrote to him at Papa’s bidding,
and—’


That
will do,’ said Roborough firmly, catching at her unquiet hands and
holding them strongly. He smiled. ‘Miss Alvescot, I much preferred
it when you were railing at me. Pray don’t spoil your effect by
this effusive apology.’ He paused, releasing her hands as Isadora
eyed him uncertainly. ‘I suppose it is an apology, of a
sort?’

She had to
laugh. ‘Lord Roborough, you are quite abominable. You must know
very well that it would positively choke me to be obliged to
apologise to you.’

He grinned.
‘Yes, I rather gathered that. But don’t address me so formally, I
beg of you. Roborough will do. We are in some sort related, are we
not?’


Distantly,’ Isadora said, eyeing him warily now.

His
brows went up. ‘Why are you looking at me as if I were a coiled
snake? Do you dislike the relationship?’

Isadora drew
herself up. ‘That depends upon how much you intend to encroach upon
it. I may as well tell you at once that I do not consider myself to
be under your jurisdiction.’

The viscount
looked amused. ‘Why should you?’


Well, Cousin Matty insists that as head of the family you have
all sorts of powers over us all,’ she said in a goaded voice, ‘and
everyone else seems to think you may order our lives as you see
fit.’


Whereas you do not?’


No,
I do not.’


I
wonder why I am not at all surprised to hear that?’ he said
musingly. ‘Let us hope that I am not obliged to order you to do
anything at all.’

Isadora hardly
knew what to make of this. It seemed as if her fears were
unfounded. She must revise all her ideas about him, all because he
was himself and not his father. The hint of amusement that seemed
constantly to underlie his words was encouraging. He seemed
pleasant enough. Yet he had given nothing away of his intentions.
Perhaps he might?


Lord
Roborough,’ she said impulsively, turning once more towards the
house.


Miss
Alvescot?’ he responded, again falling into step beside
her.


What
do you—? Have you decided—? Oh, great heavens, I shall just have to
say it. What
are
you intending to do?’


At
this present, Miss Alvescot,’ he answered seriously, ‘I have no
very precise idea. That must depend upon circumstance.’

She
glanced at him. ‘You will not turn us out, then?’

Roborough halted
abruptly, moving to face her again.

Isadora, pausing
herself, saw the light eyes flash.


Turn
you out?’ he repeated in accents of disbelief. ‘Is that what you
supposed I should do?’

Isadora was
conscious of a measure of discomfort, but she did her best to
ignore it, doggedly pursuing the question.


Well, you only said we need not think of removing
as
yet,
’ she said, laying emphasis on the words she had filled
with so much hidden meaning, ‘and seeing how little interested you
appeared to be in our predicament—’


You
naturally wrote me off as a monstrously callous individual, with no
thought for anyone but himself,’ he finished, in a tone clipped
with bitterness.

Isadora,
remembering how she had used the very word
callous
only
today when speaking of him, at once rose up on her high ropes to
conceal her instant guilt.


How
in the world was I to know what sort of man you were? I went on the
evidence to hand. It is not my fault that you were mistaken for
your father.’

It seemed to
Isadora, from the way Roborough compressed his lips that he was
biting down on a sharp retort. She braced herself for battle. But
instead of the rebuking words she was expecting he turned towards
the house and started off again.


We
had better go in,’ he said coolly. ‘I imagine Thornbury will by now
have apprised your mama of my arrival.’


Mr
Thornbury is with you?’ asked Isadora, diverted.


Certainly. In fact, we rode here in his gig. I did not wish to
burst in on you all unannounced.’

He might never
have expressed himself in that earlier bitter tone, Isadora
thought. He was calmness itself. Oddly, it annoyed her, but she
thrust the feeling down. She ought to be grateful that he had not
chosen to take his umbrage further. The desire to goad him was
almost overwhelming, but she fought it valiantly. For Mama’s sake,
she must not antagonise him.


That
is why I was wandering in your grounds,’ he offered, flicking a
glance at her.


Your
grounds, you mean,’ said Isadora before she could
stop herself. She saw his eyes narrow and at once exclaimed
crossly, ‘Oh, you are nothing but a shrew, Isadora Alvescot!’ She
added, turning to him contritely, ‘I beg your pardon, sir. I
promise you I did mean not to say one word out of the
way.’

But the viscount
was laughing. ‘Never mind it. I dare say I shall become
accustomed.’

They had arrived
by this time at the steps leading up to the front door of the
house. He paused a moment and his gaze ran over her
features.


Isadora,’ he said, savouring the name on his tongue. ‘An
enchanting name. It suits you.’

A rush of air to
her chest quite startled Isadora. That odd breathlessness attacked
her once more. It was almost as if she could feel her own pulse
beating, far too fast. Fortunately she was not required to say
anything, for Roborough spoke again.


We
are two families in mourning, Miss Alvescot. I cannot think that
anything much will be settled before the necessary period of
inactivity is over. Will you lead the way?’

***

You would not
have supposed, Isadora thought crossly, that anyone had ever
thought of the Errant Heir as anything but charming. Not that one
could accuse him of behaving towards Mama with the easy style he
had adopted towards herself. He was treating Mrs Alvescot with all
the proper deference and gentleness due to an inconsolable widow.
Overly so, in Isadora’s opinion.


I
would not for the world have distressed you by an ill-timed visit,
Mrs Alvescot, but, Thornbury having assured me that you would
receive me without ceremony, I ventured to allow him to bring me
here without prior notice. I hope you do not mind?’


Oh,
dear me, no,’ fluttered Mrs Alvescot, pressing a hand to her
bombazine-covered bosom. ‘I am only too happy—that is—it is not for
me to object. And we have been waiting for you forever.’ Her colour
rushed up and she threw out anxious hands. ‘Oh dear, I did not mean
that—and it is not you we have been expecting. Except that we did
not know it. But Thornbury—’

Here the lawyer,
a sensible family man approaching his middle years, intervened. ‘I
have been advising Mrs Alvescot of the error, my lord.’ Turning to
the lady, he prompted, ‘His lordship’s chaise, ma’am, is following
us. I did suggest to his lordship that I believed there would be no
difficulty about his putting up here at Pusay, but he
insisted—’


I
insisted,’ interrupted the viscount with what Isadora felt to be an
unnecessarily ingratiating smile, ‘that this must depend upon your
wishes, ma’am, and if there is the slightest objection to my doing
so I beg you will not put yourself out. I can very well stay at an
inn.’


An
inn?’ chimed in Cousin Matty, who had been gazing at Roborough in a
state of semi-stupefaction almost since the moment of his entry. ‘I
should think not indeed. What, with a house this size at your
disposal? And your own establishment at that.’


That
is very true,’ said Mrs Alvescot in her usual fashion, nodding
vehemently as she looked up at the unexpected features above her.
‘We could not think of you staying anywhere but here. Indeed, I had
better show you about the place so that you may choose where you
would prefer to sleep.’


I
would very much like to see around the house, ma’am, at some
convenient time,’ said the viscount, putting out a hand to stop her
as she came anxiously to her feet, ‘but there is no question of my
choosing a chamber. You will, if you please, continue to treat the
place as your own. I am merely your guest—for the
moment.’

Aha! Isadora
caught at the caveat even as Mama and Cousin Matty fell over each
other’s words in their expressions of relief and thanks for this
generous concession. There was an ominous ring in that
for the
moment
. Just as there had been in the simple phrase
as
yet
. For all his soothing outward manner, Roborough had plans
of his own.

It had not taken
long for the introductions to be performed, Thornbury having
already prepared the ground. It was evident that he had carefully
primed the viscount, for the Errant Heir had evidently astonished
Fanny and Rowland—the latter having been hastily sent for to the
drawing-room—in greeting them by name. They had since sat—looking,
to Isadora’s critical eyes, unbelievably angelic—side by side and
silent, on a sofa next to Cousin Matty, simply drinking Roborough
in. If he had deliberately set out to captivate the family, he was
certainly succeeding.

Except, Isadora
decided, for herself. Until she knew what he intended to do with
them all, she would reserve judgement. But one thing she knew
already. Roborough was a man of decided opinions, and if his
conduct in the gardens was anything to go by he was unlikely to be
swayed by anyone else, least of all her dear but docile Mama, no
matter how much he pretended to defer his preferences to her
judgement. Toady how he might, Isadora was not deceived.

She was,
however, curious. Just as curious as her cousins, it turned out.
For no sooner had the door shut behind Lord Roborough and Mrs
Alvescot—for nothing would do for the lady of the house but to show
him to the best spare bedchamber immediately—than they turned, as
one, to Mr Thornbury, who had risen to leave, their tongues
loosening on the instant.


How
old is he?’ demanded Fanny, getting in first.

BOOK: VIscount Besieged
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