His Unsuitable Viscountess

The heat crept up Eleanor’s cheeks. If she kept calm he might ignore the blush. Please let him ignore it. Confessing the whole truth would be a lesson in abject humiliation. The more she thought about it, the more pathetic and naive she had been even to try. She hadn’t understood how wrong it might have gone. What a mistake she’d nearly made. And how could she explain about that moment when she’d thought Lord Whittonstall was going to kiss her? No. Anything but that.

‘I wished him to take it to London,’ she said, when she considered that she’d mastered her emotions. Those few extra heartbeats had helped her to formulate the perfect answer. ‘To show it off. If I had waited for his birthday he would have departed. Gentlemen such as your cousin never stay long in these parts.’

‘Until you gave him the sword my cousin had no plans to quit the county. He’d retired up here with his tail between his legs. A gaming debt. But I don’t think your visit had anything to do with his finances. It had something to do with you and your current predicament.’

She shuffled paper about the desk. Against all reason she wanted to lay her head on his chest and confess. She shook her head. She could just imagine his recoiling from her, and that was a thousand times worse. The last thing she wanted was pity from him.

‘It was a straightforward request, Lord Whittonstall,’ she said briskly. ‘I don’t see why you think it a mystery.’

‘Have you given swords away before?’ he asked, tilting his head to one side.

‘It is a new initiative.’

‘How new?’

‘Very new.’

Eleanor pushed away from the desk, stood up, and began to pace the room, stopping in front of her grandfather’s portrait. The compulsion to confess grew with each passing heartbeat. But she simply couldn’t. It would be opening up a Pandora’s box of questions. And she might inadvertently blurt out how she’d wanted him to kiss her. She bit her lip. How much she still wanted him to kiss her. She couldn’t remember ever being this aware of a man before. And she’d met hundreds during her fifteen year tenure running Moles.

‘A sudden inspiration,’ she said, in a tone that few within Moles would question. ‘I’m so pleased and relieved your cousin agreed to the scheme. It solves a multitude of problems.’

‘How good to know that my cousin was the first to receive your largesse in this manner.’

Eleanor glanced over her shoulder and he gave her an ironic bow.

‘A genuine request from my heart, Lord Whittonstall,’ she said, putting her hands on her hips. ‘I believed when I went to his house, and I still believe now, that Sir Vivian can help this company to succeed. All he needs to do is show off the sword, hold it in combat as I taught you, and the rest will follow.’

She drew a breath. She had told the truth in a roundabout way. Nothing to be ashamed of. She waited for him to concede the point.

‘You were desperate for his help—so desperate you were prepared to risk your reputation. You even challenged me to a duel so that you could remain in that library. Then Viv arrived and you made your milksop request. What did you truly want from him? What were you afraid to ask for?’

Eleanor stopped and faced her grandfather’s portrait. His stern features frowned down on her. She hated the feeling of being judged and found wanting. She had never considered that Lord Whittonstall would be so perceptive.

‘It no longer matters because all I want from him now is to publicise the new sword.’ She turned and smiled triumphantly. Her point was the killer blow.

Lord Whittonstall took a step towards her. Their eyes met and she became intensely aware of him—his long fingers, the way his dark hair curled at the nape of his neck and his scent. Especially his scent. Extract of masculinity. Her pulse increased its speed and she knew her cheeks flamed. But it didn’t matter. She’d won. He’d have to back down.

‘I believe it had to do with your stepfather’s will. You wanted help with the conditions your stepfather has imposed. But once you saw Viv you changed your mind and invented this scheme.’

Eleanor stared at him, astonished. He’d accomplished the verbal equivalent of sending her sword flying through the air. ‘How did you know?’

‘I am far from unintelligent, Miss Blackwell. The truth, if you please. Why did you go to see my cousin? How did you think he could help you? And why did you decide he couldn’t?’

Eleanor stared at Lord Whittonstall. He’d guessed, but he couldn’t know everything. For a wild moment she considered lying but knew she couldn’t. It would only make Algernon’s accusations true. And she had no wish to play those sorts of games with Lord Whittonstall. Only the entire humiliating truth would do.

‘I went to see your cousin to ask him to marry me, but I decided against it once I had met him again. We would not suit.’

‘You would not suit,’ Lord Whittonstall agreed. A dimple played in the corner of his cheek. ‘Why on earth did you think you would?’

‘I was desperate.’ She clasped her hands together and tried to keep the panic at bay. ‘Absolutely and completely desperate. Your cousin had sent a note, begging for the new sword. It fell out of a ledger when I came back from the reading of the will. Serendipity, I thought. I suspect I wasn’t thinking clearly or I wouldn’t even have tried. I am sorry if you were caused any discomfort by my feeble attempt to solve the problem. I should have known better.’

He gave her a sharp glance. ‘What does marrying my cousin have to do with your stepfather’s will? Start at the beginning, Miss Blackwell, and perhaps I will understand.’

‘In his will my stepfather gives me Moles and all its investments provided I marry. If not, everything goes to Algernon. He also left instructions for him on how to challenge any marriage.’

Lord Whittonstall’s eyebrows drew together. He was puzzled more than angry. ‘Why would he do that?’

‘To taunt me and keep me in my place. To create the illusion of keeping his promise.’ Eleanor gave a light shrug to show that she was over the hurt. ‘He knew my feelings on the subject of marriage and the inequities that women can suffer. I’m not very good at holding my tongue, but he tolerated me because he enjoyed the prosperity I brought to Moles and his purse.’

‘You are not overly enamoured of marriage?’ He gave a little nod of understanding. ‘Perhaps he was acting for the best. Most parents want their children or indeed their stepchildren to be secure within the confines of marriage. Perhaps he had your best interests at heart and chose to show them in a unique fashion.’

‘I saw how my stepfather treated my mother.’ Eleanor caught her bottom lip with her teeth. There was no need to catalogue her stepfather’s verbal cruelties. He might have abstained from physical violence after she’d threatened him with a sword but his tongue had been razor-sharp and he had had the unerring habit of finding weakness.

‘That is a shame.’ He regarded her with sorrowful eyes.

After this interview she doubted if she’d ever see Lord Whittonstall again. But his pity was the last thing she wanted or required.

‘Until my stepfather’s will was read I was determined never to marry. I wanted to put my energy into the family firm, rather than into hating him.’

‘Not all men are beasts like your stepfather,’ he remarked, his face becoming resolute.

She knew then that he understood.

‘I am sure you will find someone. But what is the hurry? Why did you rush out and contact my cousin? The instant after you returned here from the will-reading you must have sent the note. It is the timing, Miss Blackwell.’

‘You would make a good detective. One final twist.’ Eleanor clasped her hands together and struggled to keep her voice even. ‘I have to marry within the month.’

Lord Whittonstall’s eyes had opened wide. Thank heavens! He finally understood the truly shocking nature of the will. All the nervous energy flowed out of her.

‘There would not be time for a proper settlement if you had to marry within a month,’ he said. ‘Lawyers are notoriously slow about such things. They often take longer than posting the banns.’

‘You appear remarkably well informed.’

His lips turned up in a smile. ‘I’ve a variety of cousins. Some of my female cousins are more headstrong than others and have wanted to marry quickly out of devotion to their fiancés. But it would be financial suicide. Their interests have to be protected. Fortune-hunters are ten a penny in London these days.’

A warm glow filled Eleanor. Against all hope or expectation Lord Whittonstall understood the obstacles she faced.

‘I see you appreciate the crux of the problem. I know only too well what happens when there is no proper settlement.’

‘You do?’

‘My mother married too quickly. I think she wanted to erase the shame of my father’s death from her conscience. She was the sort of woman who wanted to be married and have a home.’

Eleanor bit her lip. All her mother had wanted to be was petted and admired. A decorative object rather than something useful. Eleanor’s strength was her brain rather than her beauty, and therefore she trod a very different path from her mother.

‘But why did you stay if you found the situation intolerable? Surely you could have started a new company? Or, failing that, found a job elsewhere.’

‘I gave a promise to the employees when my father died,’ she said, needing him to understand her reasoning. ‘I promised them that if they stuck with me and the company I would give my all for them—and I have. Moles has more than prospered in my tenure.’

‘These men are all skilled. They could easily find jobs elsewhere. Would they do the same for you?’

‘A promise, Lord Whittonstall, is a promise.’

‘And you were prepared to compromise your life for a business?’ His eyes showed his incredulity.

Eleanor pressed her hands together and held back a frustrated scream. It wasn’t just a business. It was her heritage. Something that had been built with the sweat and blood of her forefathers. It was the only thing of her family’s that she had left. She was the last one. It was the only place where she truly belonged.

Suddenly she knew what she had to do. She had to make him understand. Then he’d see why she’d changed her mind, and that it had nothing to do with her reaction to him.

‘Come with me. See the forge. Meet the men who work here and then you will understand.’

‘I doubt I will.’

‘You doubted I could best you at swords.’

He gave a sudden barking laugh. ‘I stand corrected.’

Giving in to her impulse, she led him out of the office and gave him a brief tour of Moles. She showed him where the iron was kept, how it was made into steel, and then how the swords were made. All the while, whenever they encountered anyone, she introduced him to the men who made Moles—from the most junior errand boy to Mr Swaddle, who was busy with his experiments. To her great relief Lord Whittonstall asked intelligent questions and didn’t patronise her. He seemed genuinely surprised to learn how long some of the men had worked there, and of their hopes for the future.

‘There,’ she said, when the tour was done and they had stopped outside the office building, underneath the apple tree that her great-grandmother had planted. The blossom was late this year and had just started to open. ‘Do you understand now?’

‘They certainly hold you in high esteem. When the blacksmith needed you to inspect the latest shipment of iron Mr Swaddle took me aside to explain about how you had single-handedly rescued this company.’

‘Mr Swaddle is given to exaggeration. We worked together. Everyone did. The men did the physical labour. I simply did the accounts and worked to get the swords where they would be appreciated. If a fifteen-year-girl could do it, how hard could it have been?’

She found it hard to keep the bitterness from her voice. She shook her head. Algernon’s pompous pronouncements had affected her more than she’d thought possible.

‘And you have continued to do it for the last fifteen years?’

‘It has become a habit.’ She ducked her head. ‘I enjoy my work and enjoy working with the men. Mr Swaddle, for all his eccentric dress, is a genius with steel.’

‘He doesn’t like Algernon Forecastle. Doesn’t trust him. He made that quite clear.’

‘These people depend on me. I can’t allow Algernon to ruin their lives.’ Eleanor drew a deep breath. ‘I went to see your cousin to secure their future. I went to offer to pay his debts in return for a marriage on paper. But I couldn’t do it. And I shall have to live with my selfish decision for the rest of my life. When the time came I was a coward and couldn’t even say the words. So I asked your cousin for his help in another way. It may do some good. There—now you know the truth and my reasons. I hope you are satisfied.’

‘You care a lot about these people?’

‘Yes, I do.’ She stood with her feet firmly planted on the ground and dared him to make a derogatory comment.

A light breeze blew a strand of hair into her mouth. She pushed it away and still he looked at her.

He put a hand on her arm, keeping her there. His brows drew together and his eyes darkened to coal black. ‘Marry me.’

Eleanor froze. A thousand disconnected thoughts flew through her brain. A huge part of her screamed that this was the miracle she’d been longing for. Lord Whittonstall had asked her to marry him. But she also knew she didn’t want him offering out of pity. She had her pride. ‘I wasn’t begging you for help. I was attempting to explain.’

‘Is there something wrong with marrying me?’ Ben stared at Eleanor Blackwell. He had not intended to ask her to marry him when he’d arrived at Moles, but now, seeing her here and hearing her story, he knew it was the right thing to do. The perfect solution to his problem and to hers. Mutual assistance.

She pulled away from him. ‘You have no reason to want to marry me. Don’t patronise me. I can’t stand it.’

‘It is far from a joke.’

A deep frown appeared between her delicate brows. ‘But why would you want to marry me?’

‘You mean I’m no wastrel and therefore don’t need your money?’

She bent her head and picked at her glove. ‘Something like that.’

‘I took an irrational dislike to the Reverend Forecastle.’

‘Enough to marry someone to spite him? I doubt it.’

Ben watched the crown of her head. Her bravery impressed him, but he also wanted to touch her hair. His desire to kiss her had grown, not diminished. Most unexpected. He desired her. ‘You want the truth?’

Her grey eyes met his. ‘I find it best. You could marry anyone. Why me? Why now?’

How to answer her? He could hardly explain about the spark and his desire to pursue it. It remained far too new and tenuous. In any case, this marriage was not about desire or romance; it was about the possibility of companionship and duty. A new start—one in which he’d atone for old mistakes. He didn’t want to make false promises.

He pushed the unwelcome thoughts away and concentrated on the apple tree behind her.

‘Like you, duty drives me. In this case my mother has impressed upon me the necessity of marriage. I need a wife. You need a husband. It is quite simple. For my part, it solves a multitude of problems which show every sign of increasing rather than diminishing.’

‘Things are never that simple.’ Her brow furrowed as if she was trying to find a hidden flaw.

‘I’m a widower, Miss Blackwell,’ Ben said slowly. ‘I loved my wife, but she died before we had children. I have an heir in Viv but my mother keeps pressing me to marry. Her demands are growing in strength with each passing year.’

‘And you listen to your mother? You hardly seem the type.’

Ben paused. After her revelations, she deserved an explanation. She didn’t need to know about Alice, or the way she’d died. All that was in the past. However, he could explain about what drove his mother.

‘My father died before I was born. Mama devoted her life to raising me. Within reason I try to listen to her. And each year the season has become more intolerable as she artfully arranges for me to meet more eligible young women. Each year the age gap grows and I find less and less in common with her protégées.’

‘Why don’t you tell her to let you choose your own bride in your own time?’

He captured Miss Blackwell’s hand and raised it to his lips. ‘You are very alike in your determination. Do your employees say no to you after all you have done for them?’

She withdrew her hand and moved away from him, turning her back on him. Her black dress hung limply about her body, emphasising her slender angularity and the straightness of her back. Ben found it impossible to discern what she was thinking. Silently he willed her to accept his offer.

‘And you would agree to a settlement in which I keep control of Moles?’

‘It will be hard to do within the timeframe, but I have no objection.’

‘And you want it to be a paper marriage? If you find someone else we could part amicably. It can be done.’

‘It won’t be,’ Ben said shortly. He tore his mind away from the past. There would never be another woman like Alice. He wasn’t looking for that heady feeling. That part of his life had finished five years ago, and he knew ultimately whose fault it was.

Her cheeks went pink. ‘I am well aware that this will be a business arrangement. I want you to understand that I wouldn’t stand in your way … should it happen.’

‘Is it settled? Will you stop being stubborn?’

‘But you don’t live here. And I can’t leave Moles.’

‘That will solve another problem. Viv needs funds. I have no wish to return to Leicestershire. I will purchase his property. That should put you near enough for those times when you are needed.’

He waited. Suddenly tense. This was far removed in many ways from the manner in which he’d proposed to Alice all those years ago. Then he had laughed and kissed her. She’d asked him what had taken him so long before throwing her arms about his neck. He glanced at the apple tree in front of the office building. Funny, the apple trees had hung heavy with blossom then as well. He suspected Alice would have approved, even if this marriage was to be unorthodox.

She held out her hand. It trembled under his fingers. ‘Then I accept with gratitude. You have been more than kind, Lord Whittonstall. You have saved my company from an awful fate.’

‘Please call me Ben … as we are to be on intimate terms, Eleanor.’

Her tongue wet her lips, turning them the colour of unopened apple blossom. ‘Intimate?’ she whispered.

‘Try it.’

‘Ben.’ She gave him a level look. ‘We are speaking about a marriage on paper. I have no expectation of anything else.’

He reached out and pulled her firmly into his arms. As her body collided with his he registered the fact that she was less angular than he’d supposed. He lifted her chin slightly and regarded her face. The more he looked at her, the more he found to appreciate.

He brushed her lips with his, intending it to be a quick demonstration. But the instant his mouth encountered hers he knew that he wanted more. He gathered her more firmly in his arms and drank. She parted her lips. When his body thrummed with desire he put her away from him. They both stood there, chests heaving and blood pumping far too fast.

‘It will be a proper marriage, Eleanor. My mother expects an heir and I have no intention of denying her.’ He put two fingers to his hat. ‘Good day to you. The banns will be posted. You will meet your stepfather’s conditions.’

Eleanor wandered back into her office. The men studiously avoided her gaze, pretending interest in the ledgers and other bits of paper.

Her fingers explored her mouth. Lord Whittonstall … Ben … had kissed her in full view of everyone. Put his mark on her. She’d never dreamt a kiss could be like that. Heart-stopping. Exciting. And absolutely meaningless to him. He’d been trying to prove a point.

Eleanor hugged her arms about her waist. A real marriage. With the possibility of children. Someone to carry on after her. She’d not bargained for that. She’d never even considered it. Ever since she was fifteen she’d concentrated on Moles, and now this … the domestic side of things and all it entailed. It shook her.

She carefully closed the door behind her and glanced up to where her grandfather frowned down at her.

‘I must make a success of it, Grandfather. How hard can it be? To be a viscountess and all that entails? If I can run a company, I can do that. I have to. I’ve given my word.’

Chapter Four

Any task was much simpler when its components were written down. More straightforward, less daunting.

Eleanor surveyed her latest list—the seventeenth she’d penned since she woke. Only half-past eleven and she’d already crossed off five items. Progress at speed.

Sleep had been next to impossible, so she’d worked through the night. She’d gone over Moles’ accounts and made lists and schedules of everything that had to be done in the next few weeks. Her appointment with her solicitor was scheduled for tomorrow. His reply had arrived with the first post.

She’d already sent over an outline of what she wanted, and once she knew it was in hand she’d arrange for the banns to be posted.

Eleanor tapped her pen against the table. Could she trust Algernon to fulfil the duties of his office and read out the banns? Did she even want to be married in his church? The thought of Algernon officiating at her wedding made her nauseous. She put a big question mark beside ‘banns’ and regarded the next item: ‘find a suitable dress’.

‘What do you think you are playing at, Eleanor?’ Algernon said, pushing past Jenkins the butler and coming into the breakfast room. ‘I’m not one of your suppliers who gives you extra time to pay because you sigh and bat your eyelashes. Or one of your competitors who feels sorry for you when the new furnace doesn’t arrive on time. Oh, yes, you needn’t look so surprised. Uncle told me all about how you saved Moles and why. They pitied you, Eleanor.’

Her butler gave her an apologetic look when she raised an eyebrow. The last thing she needed today of all days was an interruption from Alger non.

Why couldn’t he be like normal vicars and be interested in his parishioners, or failing that some esoteric academic study? Why was he coming to plague her—and so early in the day?

One would think he’d have the decency to wait until the afternoon, or better not even to appear without sending a note round. And, from the belligerent set of his jaw, it appeared he intended to stay awhile.

‘Ah, Algernon,’ Eleanor said, forcing her voice to stay calm and pleasant. ‘I see you have inherited my stepfather’s bad habit of twisting history. It had nothing to do with my feminine charm—something that you always accuse me of lacking. It is precisely because I pointed out the financial opportunities to Mr Smith and Mr Oley that Moles flourished and became the company it is today. Moles bought all of Mr Smith’s iron ore until he retired and then we bought his business. We continue to share transport with Mr Oley—only now his swords are shipped with ours, instead of the other way round. It saves costs and benefits everyone. Business, not pity.’

She finished with a brilliant smile.

Algernon opened and closed his mouth several times as he went his special shade of puce. ‘I will take your word for it.’

‘Why are you here, Algernon? I feel certain it is not to go over my various triumphs in business. However, if you insist, I must warn you it will take some considerable time.’

‘Francis Percy, the curate at Broomhaugh, contacted me about your pathetic scheme this morning.’

The back of Eleanor’s neck prickled. Her life needed fewer complications, not more. ‘Who is Francis Percy, and why should he contact you about me? Does he wish to purchase a sword? If so, I would suggest he go through the proper channels. We do have a backlog of work and cannot make exceptions … even for your friends.’