The Viscount

She sighed and sat back in the chair, looking almost defeated. “I rarely go out in Society, but I did attend a small soiree the Dansons held at Livsby Grange a week ago. I attended at Clive’s insistence. Apparently, I…I caused something of a scene there.”

Guy’s attention keened. “Of what sort?”

She busily pleated the hem of her coat as she made the admission. “Well, we partook of the buffet provided. Clive brought me a small plate and a cup of punch. All went well at first. I knew most of the neighbors who attended and the conversation was pleasant enough. Soon after we finished our refreshment, we took seats for the entertainment.” She halted.

“Go on. What happened?”

“The lights were lowered. A short while later…everyone began swaying as if to a song I couldn’t hear. There was a loud buzzing in the chamber. The noises within it grew terribly keen. Frightening. Then…everyone changed into…”

“Into what, Lily?” Guy asked, keeping his voice low and nonthreatening.

She blinked rapidly and her breathing came in fits and starts. “Horrible…things,” she whispered, obviously lost in the memory. “I must have screamed. I can’t remember. Clive whisked me out and the last I recall was being tossed into his carriage.”

“And later? What did you do?”

She raised her hands, palms up, then let them collapse on the arms of the chair. “Nightmares. I dreamt for the longest time, thinking I would never wake. You see, I knew I was sleeping, that none of it was real. But still it terrified me. The next day I decided I must have consumed something wholly disagreeable to my digestion. I was ill all morning. Other than an occasional bout of palpitations and a lack of appetite, I seemed well over it by that evening.”

“Nothing of a similar nature has occurred since then?” Guy asked.

“No. He must have drugged me.” She looked up at him, her gaze extremely worried. “Suppose some of those present believed me mad? Could Clive employ their testimony against me, do you think?”

No doubt in Guy’s mind that was precisely what was intended, but he held those thoughts to himself for the moment. She was upset enough as it was. Instead he said, “We must find a way to put you out of his reach for a while until we decide what must be done.”

“Clive is the only one with the right to have me confined, is he not?”

Guy nodded. “Since your husband is dead and your son too young to make that sort of determination, Bradshaw would be the one.”

“Then God help me,” she whispered. “I should have left off mourning at half a year and married Jeremy Longchamps when he asked.”

Guy laughed out loud, surprising both of them. “You can not be serious! He would give you about as much protection as a broken flyswatter. He fights like a girl.”

She smiled at that. “You obviously know Jeremy.”

“All too well,” Guy admitted, glad for the lighter topic. “We were at school together. How is it that you know him?”

“He was a great friend of Jonathan’s. We entertained him often. I quite like the fellow, odd quirks and all.”

“But not enough to marry him, obviously.” Thank heaven for that spot of good sense.

“No, not enough for that. I would have felt more like a sister to him than a wife, though he entertains Beau and thinks the world of him.” She sighed. “But marrying Jeremy might have prevented this problem. However, I don’t regret my decision, really. He deserves someone who would really care for him in a way I never could.”

“I shouldn’t think Jeremy would notice, he’s so full of himself,” Guy quipped. Though Longchamps had used to prove amusing at times, Guy had seldom encountered a fellow more feather-brained and oblivious to the goings-on around him.

“You do not seem to be that way,” she said. When Guy looked at her, she narrowed her eyes and regarded him as a cat might do a mouse. “You have been very kind in your treatment of me tonight. Are you always so gentle with those weaker than you?”

Guy smiled. “There is certainly no honor in throwing one’s strength around.”

“Yes, you do seem accommodating and I appreciate that. Tell me, Lord Duquesne—”

“It’s Guy, if you please.”

“Very well. Guy. Tell me, how do you feel about a marriage of convenience?” her expression looked pensive and even a bit sly.

“That depends. Whom do you have in mind?”

“You, of course.” She gestured toward him with one hand.

“Me? Ye gods and little fishes, I’m appalled at the very thought,” he answered with real conviction. “You don’t mean—”

“But I do.” She looked around her as if assessing his study. “It appears you could use…an infusion of wealth. I could provide that.”

“This is ridiculous!” But was it?

Arrangements such as she proposed happened all the time. Only not to him. Never once had he entertained the idea of marrying for money.

He frowned at her impudence. His paucity of funds had become a well-known fact in recent years. The upkeep and taxes on the estates at Marksdon, Perrins Close and Edgefield, as well as the town house here, were outrageous.

When one added the expense of providing the best of care for his father, Guy had stretched even his improved resources near their limits. Though he had overcome the threat of ruin some time ago, he kept to his frugal ways.

There were worse things than being regarded as poor. That state offered a certain freedom that being wealthy did not. It certainly whittled down his social obligations, which suited him just fine. Aside from the Kendales and the Hammersleys, damned few of his so-called peers bothered to give him so much as a nod.

Keeping his distance had become a way of life. A safer way, especially where women were concerned. Caring too much was not wise. Loving was bloody well stupid.

He answered Lily as gently as he could. “It’s kind of you to offer for me, and you do me great honor, Lily, but I must decline. You see, I’ll never marry. I cannot.”

“Of course you can,” she argued in as near a plaintive tone as he’d yet heard her utter. “Whyever not?”

He leaned closer to her as if to impart a secret. “Because, dear heart, there is bonafide insanity in my bloodline, as you must know. Everyone who is anyone is certainly well aware of it, no matter how carefully they tiptoe around the subject in my presence.”

Her eyes softened with sympathy. “Oh, Guy, I do regret your father’s indisposition and that you feel you need warn me of it, but his condition has no bearing on this at all. I am not the least concerned about that. All I would ask is that you provide the safety of your name for me and my son. In return, I shall give you my widow’s portion. A fair trade in anyone’s estimation. What do you say?”

“That you’d be irresponsible to disregard such a drawback, Lily. My father is out of his mind and has been for years. I absolutely refuse to make anyone heir to that.”

“Well then, we should be perfectly suited since I am unable to bear any more children.” Though she smiled, her eyes said too much of what that admission cost her.

He did not remark on it for fear of causing her to dwell on the sad fact. At least she had one son, one more than he could ever risk having.

Bravely, she went on. “It would solve any financial woes that might plague you. Beau could use a man’s guidance, if you felt inclined to bother with him. Jonathan has been gone for two years now, and I must admit that I do miss married life.” She smiled sincerely then, ducked her gaze for a second and blushed.

Guy could not help being shocked and a bit amused. “My, my, you are outspoken for a lady. Donning those trousers must have gone straight to your head.”

“Spoken frankly as any man, you mean? I was only thinking that this is no time to mince words. I truly do miss being a wife.”

He considered the magnitude of what she had just confessed. A woman of quality never allowed she had any interest in the matter of bedding. If he wasn’t mistaken, that was precisely what she had just declared. He pretended to take another meaning from her words, one more acceptable for discussion. “So you loved your husband that dearly, did you?”

She grinned back at him, as if to say she knew that he knew exactly what she had meant. “Oh, Jonathan was a brick. He and I got on like the best of mates even though he was much older. I adored him above anything.”

Guy smiled, happy for her good fortune for as long as it had lasted. “How excellent for the both of you. In general, there are damned few marriages that recommend the institution. Though I have witnessed a rare exception or two, I, for one, have little faith in the state of wedded bliss.” He shook his head and sighed, thinking that would surely end this strange conversation.

Instead of the disappointment he expected, her face brightened with delight. “There you are, then! You shan’t be disappointed if we aren’t deliriously engaged. Shall we have a go?”

“No!” he exclaimed, amazed by her continued tenacity. “We shan’t have a go! I never said—”

She batted a hand at him and rolled her eyes with obvious impatience. “Oh, come now, Duquesne. You cannot tell me you have no use for my money, even if you don’t particularly like me.”

“Of course I like you, Lily! It’s only that…” But for the life of him, he could not list a single reason to refuse her. She had shot all of them down like bottles on a fence.

“And we could be friends,” she persisted.

“Friends, eh?” It wasn’t as if anyone else would ever have him for a husband, given his family history. Or the reputation he’d made all on his own. And as for Lily, apparently she had already experienced the love of her life. Twice that luck would be too much for any woman—anyone at all, in fact—to expect.

If he agreed, he could certainly put the dowry to good use, invest it and see that the original capital remained hers while the interest went to support the estates and tenants for which they both would be responsible. His holdings would become hers in entirety when he passed on and eventually become her son’s since Guy would leave no progeny of his own.

This could prove a decent arrangement, he thought practically. Of course, he had no idea how much wealth was involved, but that hardly mattered at this point.

He was not going to do this. He should not.

But if he did, he could give up all these havey-cavey business dealings he had to manage here in Town. Damn, but he was weary of the subterfuge, the low forms of life he had to coddle or threaten for information. He could retire to the country. Be the gentleman his father would have wanted him to be. The man he had almost become before tragedy struck and forced him to use his wiles to keep solvent. For a while it had seemed challenging, adventurous, even at times great fun, but now….

No, he was not going to marry this woman. It would not do. He had managed by himself for too long to share his life with anyone.

Then he thought about the boy, thrust into such a vulnerable position by the title he had yet to grow into. Guy couldn’t deny he would probably enjoy being a parent. He thought he might like children and regretted he could never father any.

Hell, he felt half-child himself, still playing at Turks and Thieves in the dark of night with deadly playmates. He thought of Smarky, scourge of Spittalfield, and Bardy the Bold with his Saracen dagger and delight in death-dealing. Excellent reasons right there to tell Lily no. He could put her in danger by mere association with him.

But she was already immersed up to her neck in trouble, now wasn’t she? Who else of her acquaintances would fend off her enemies for her, if he didn’t agree to do it?

There was the woman herself, the biggest temptation of all. Lily had spirit, courage and a lively imagination. He could certainly do worse for himself and never any better, by his reckoning. But did he have the right…?

The imp could arouse him with only a smile and most likely realized this power. Aside from her unique and fascinating looks, there was something slightly wild and delicious about Lily, something he could not begin to describe, that tantalized him.

Her scent, sweet and undefinable, perhaps. Or her voice, dulcet of tone and faintly raspy. Seductive when she intended, compelling attention even when she did not. Definitely more than the sum of her lovely parts, Lily Upchurch Bradshaw was an original.

Despite that, he knew that he need not worry about falling in love with her. If ever there was a man safe from that sanguine emotion, it would be himself, considering the practice he’d had avoiding it. Love, to him, meant marriage, children and a future. His father’s madness precluded Guy marrying well. Until Lily.

There was that one almost overwhelming aspect of Lily that he hated to admit enticed him because it seemed unworthy, even salacious, to consider it. He shouldn’t, but he certainly did factor it into the equation.

The plain fact was that Guy had not tupped a woman these past nine years without the onus of accidental pregnancy looming over him like a threatening storm cloud. Freedom from that fear danced here within reach, daring him to reach out and embrace it. To embrace her.

Another woman had come to him asking for help less than a year before. Sara Ryan had been a beautiful woman. And in dire straits, too. Yet the idea of bedding her, much less marrying her, had never even occurred to him. Why would he even consider such a thing with this one? Well, she had asked, for one thing. And then there was that other benefit….

“You are considering it, aren’t you?” she asked, her eyes sparkling with the anticipation of victory.

As sheer flattery went, Guy could not help being affected by her enthusiasm for her plan. Even so…

“I am considering it very carefully,” he told her, “since one of us must give a thought to caution.”

One golden eyebrow rose. “The infamous Devil Duquesne, a cautious man?” she taunted. “Who would have thought it? Now your reputation will be thoroughly destroyed.”

Guy could hardly let that pass unremarked. “You do tempt me,” he finally said.

Lily sighed. “Enough to accept?”

Chapter Three

L ily wondered if he had been right about her clothing affecting her behavior. Whether it was freedom from the constraint of female apparel or pure desperation that prompted her aggression, Lily saw that she had shocked not only him, but also herself.

Here she had just proposed to the infamous Devil Duquesne, the man people whispered about, feared even, because he was reputed to be dangerous. He did private enquiries and settled disputes in ways that were often permanent, so they said. The government employed him to ferret out spies. Perhaps he was one himself.

Jonathan had loved gossip and had delighted her with all sorts of tidbits out of London whenever he had gone up on business. Well, she was testing this piece of his tittle-tattle, surely.

Duquesne’s eyes had narrowed, assessing her yet again, as if from a different angle. He smiled, a near smirk, but it did absolutely nothing to detract from his appeal. Slowly he nodded, his smile growing, as if he couldn’t contain it within that cloak of cynicism. Was he going to say yes? Would he really marry her?

Lily almost panicked, very nearly withdrew her bold idea for a solution. If she did marry Duquesne, she might create another whole set of problems.

“Doubts now, Lily?” he asked, crossing his arms and regarding her intently. He looked amused.

“No. None.” She would stand firm by her decision. If he would have her, if he would commit to the cause of her protection and that of her son, she’d be willing to wed the devil himself. If that was trading her body and her fortune, so be it.

“If I say yes, you should know that I would expect something from you other than money,” he told her.

She was well aware of what that would be, of course, but she had already offered that on a silver platter. “I know.”

“Besides that,” he said, his expression now rather serious. “If I should…in the future, fall victim to my father’s malady, I should expect you to keep me…at home. My home, of course, not yours. That is, if you could possibly arrange it.”

Lily softened inside, her heart going out to him on the instant. “Oh, most assuredly, Guy. I would never, never consign you to…” She cast about for a nice word for the terrifying place she had just escaped.

He shifted as if highly uncomfortable in speaking of this. His gaze rested on the floor between them. “I considered placing my father at Plympton. It is close to home, privately run and not as bad as one might expect, but I simply could not bring myself to do it, to uproot him from his familiar surroundings. You see, though he’s not the man he once was, he has moments, even days, when he functions quite normally.”

“Plympton? They mentioned that, Guy! Tonight I heard that name. They were planning to move me there. Where is it?”

He unfolded his arms and braced them on the edge of the desk as he looked up at her. “Roughly twenty miles or so from Edgefield to the north. The old mansion Lord Younger sold off some years ago.”

She knew of it, but had not known it was now used as an asylum. “I see. That puts proof to the fact that Clive must be behind this scheme against me, then. It is also near Sylvana Hall, as you know. Once I was certified insane, he could keep watch and perhaps continue drugging me if I were at Plympton.”

He nodded. “So, could you agree to this condition? You would, of course, hire a man who would see to my needs and ensure I would be no danger to anyone should the worst happen. You could live wherever you chose.”

Unable to help herself, Lily approached him and touched his face, much as she would Beau if he were this troubled. “Oh, Guy, you speak as if this is a definite thing for you to dread.”

He covered her hand with his, a light contact recognizing her gesture. “It is a possibility we must address, Lily. As yet, I’ve suffered no symptoms akin to my father’s and I hope I never shall, but I want you aware of what might happen in future. It is wise to plan for all contingencies, don’t you think?”

Lily closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, unable to imagine this man incapacitated in any way, especially with regard to his mind. She nodded. “I agree. If you will look after me and my son, I give you my word I shall move heaven and earth to follow your wishes in this.” She looked up at him so that he could see she was sincere. “Guy, I will do it anyway. Whether you want me as a wife or not. I shall do it as your friend.”

Never had she seen such an expression of relief. And something approaching awe. He cradled her face with both his hands and lowered his lips to her forehead. His mouth felt warm against her skin and very gentle.

Then he pulled back and searched her eyes with his. “This is a terrible risk you’re taking, Lily. You don’t really know me. You cannot know all I have done or am capable of doing.”

She sighed and rested her palms on his chest, feeling the warmth, the beat of his heart, through the rich, worn fabric. “I know that you are compassionate with regard to your father. I know that you listen to me and truly hear what I say. And while you do have a reputation for ruthlessness—” she smiled at his surprise “—a ruthless man is precisely what I need.”

His small laugh was self-deprecating as he shook his head. “What gods do you suppose have thrown us together tonight? Ours will likely be a match made in hell.”

She straightened, grasping the lapels of his robe. “Then you will do it?”

He dropped a kiss on her lips, just a brief, perfunctory touch borne of camaraderie, it seemed. His voice was light and full of mischief. “Of course I will do it. I’d be a complete fool to refuse such a deal.”

Lily felt unaccountably lighthearted, considering the weighty matter at hand. “Excellent!” She backed away from him, a bit self-consciously, breaking his contact with her face and hers with his chest. It was devilishly hard to think when they were touching.

He pushed forward from the desk where he’d been leaning and began to shuck off his robe. “Then we had best get to it. We’ll need a special license, back-dated, of course.” He spoke as if to himself now. “Justice Jelf will get that, for a hefty fee.” All the while, he was donning a jacket that had hung over the back of a straight chair by the door.

Lily watched as he bent behind the desk and then sat to pull on his stockings and boots. It seemed too intimate an act to watch, so she turned away, still listening to his running commentary to himself. “Horses. Hammersley’s, I think. We’ll ride to Sylvana Hall after, by way of Edgefield, to change your clothing.”

“I thought you were sending for Beau and Mrs. Prine,” she said, interrupting him.

He looked up from his task. “Not now. I think we should make our stand on home ground. I had thought at first to hide you and your son until I could straighten out this tangle of yours with the authorities. However, if we are married and appear to have been so before Bradshaw made his move, he’ll play hell explaining why he kidnapped my wife. We’ll level charges against him if necessary.”

“But…but we were not married then,” Lily argued.

He grinned and stood up, stamping to settle his feet into the scuffed Hessians. “Ah, but we will have been. Once Tommy Roundhead does his magic on the locks at the records office. Happy first month’s anniversary, darling. May we have many, many more.”

Lily shook her head in wonder. “I have a distinct feeling ours is going to prove a unique wedding.”

“My lady, you cannot even imagine how unusual it’s going to be.” He opened a drawer of his desk, retrieved a wicked-looking pistol, checked the cylinder of it and added the ammunition. Then he tucked it into the waistband of his trousers where it seemed right at home.

Lily swallowed hard and shivered, suddenly aware of just how dangerous this man might become if crossed.

She watched as he stretched out his hand, inviting her to take it. Or perhaps daring her to do so. “Are you up for a sprint across the back alleys of Mayfair and a night ride into Whitechapel?”

Lily locked her palm to his and intertwined their fingers. A promise. A binding betrothal, however brief. A daring leap into the unknown with a man who might be teetering on the edge of sanity even as they said their vows. Assuming they survived the trip into the bowels of London and lived to take any vows. “Sounds like a dashing evening, my lord. I’m game!”

His grin was pure deviltry and she returned it in kind.

Good as his word, Guy led her out the back of the house and through the tangle of vines at the back gate. The moon cast its weak glow on the path they took, one she knew was traversed by tradesmen and those who were obliged to enter the great homes from the rear entrance. And perhaps by thieves and denizens of the night with no business being here.

She was nearly breathless with exertion and apprehension when he came to a halt and looked up at the high stone wall they had been following and the imposing iron gate in front of them. “It’s locked at night. We’ll have to climb it.” He crouched down. “Put your foot in my hands and I’ll boost you. Grab the top and pull yourself up.”

Lily took a deep breath and did as he said. Images of their being hauled off by the local watch and trying to explain this distracted her, but she made it. Lying along the top of the foot-thick stone wall, she watched him shin up the bars of the iron gate and join her.

“Now take my hands and I’ll lower you down,” he said calmly, as if he did this sort of thing every night. Perhaps he did. She complied, coming to rest on solid ground with a thump of her overlarge boots. He followed, taking a moment to brush his ungloved palms on his trousers. “There!”

“Where are we?” she demanded. “And what are we doing here?”

“Earl Hammersley’s. He’s a friend of mine. We’re going to steal two of his horses.”

“No!” She grabbed his arm as he started for what looked to be the stables. “You cannot do this! If he’s a friend, why not simply ask to borrow them?”