Loved by the Viscount_A Historical Regency Romance Read online

  He made his way around the croquet wickets placed within the overgrown lawn to where Rosalind and the Duchess of Barre were engaged in conversation as they slowly walked around the group in a circle. He heard Rosalind laugh, and it warmed his heart.

  “Your Grace,” he said upon approaching them, offering a slight bow. “Lady Templeton. Good morning to the both of you.”

  “Good morning,” the Duchess said with a warm smile. William had always liked her. She was open and honest and friendly, treating all as if they were equal to her station. He supposed that was because she herself had come from a family without a title. “It is a fine day, is it not?”

  “It is,” he replied. “I am pleased we were able to spend it out of doors.”

  The Duchess smiled then looked between him and Rosalind, who was wringing her gown between her fingers. “I, ah, believe my husband may be looking for me,” the Duchess said with tact. “Excuse me.”

  Rosalind looked down at her slippers, up at the sky, and to the side at the croquet game in the distance — everywhere but at him.

  “Walk with me?” he asked, holding out his elbow. She hesitated, but finally reluctantly took his arm and nodded, and he began to lead her around the outskirts of the lawn, a copse of trees his intended destination.

  “Rosalind, I must apologize for my behavior last night,” he said when she remained silent, keeping her gaze straight ahead of her. “It was deplorable, and I promise I should not make it a habit.”

  “There is no need to apologize,” she said. “Your behavior should not concern me, my lord.”

  “My lord? Rosalind, I said I was sorry,” he said, feeling a bit heated at the way she was distancing herself from him. “I do not want you to think poorly of me, and last night I was not myself. You should know me well enough to realize that.”

  “William…” She stopped and looked up at him. “Are you sure we are a proper match?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked, his heart beginning to beat a bit faster. “I care for you, Rosalind, you know that. I had thought you felt the same for me, do you not?”

  “I — yes, I do feel for you, William, but we are such different people. You need a woman who is your equal in energy, who enjoys the lifestyle you lead, who is young, vibrant, and can offer you more than just her heart, but the financial gains that can help support your family. A woman who is like … like Olivia. I am none of those things.”

  He looked around, realizing they were now hidden from view of the rest of the party. He brought his hands to her shoulders.

  “Rosalind,” he said, trying not to raise his voice as frustration grew inside him at her words. “I have had enough of you speaking so lowly of yourself. Where have you gotten these ideas? I do not need a dowry, if that is to what you are referring. I can bring my family back to financial prosperity on my own. You are younger than I, and you are vibrant in ways that I am only just discovering. As for Olivia — I find what I felt for her was nothing more than a young man’s infatuation. My life is here for the most part, and you do fit well within this place, do you not?”

  “Perhaps what you say is true, but what of your family? William, they despise me, and I must admit to you that I am not overly fond of them.”

  “I understand your feelings regarding Alfred,” he said, cursing his brother once again. “I promise he shall remain far from you. As for my mother, well, she talks far too much about things she does not understand, nor has any right to be involved in. Do not mind her, she’ll come around. She always does. What matters most is the two of us. Tell me that my behavior has not changed your feelings toward me.”

  Her face wrinkled in confusion, and he brushed a strand of hair back from her forehead as he leaned in closer, wanting to bring forth the teasing, smiling side of her that he had begun to fall for.

  He leaned in, his hand coming to the back of her head as he brought his lips down to hers, kissing her softly, gently, trying to tell her through the contact how much he cared for her, how much he felt for her and wanted her. She responded at first, her lips meeting the rhythm of his as they moved together, but she quickly broke contact, pushing him away and stepping back from him. His heart sank as he saw a tear run down her face while she held a hand out in front of her.

  “No,” she said, shaking her head fiercely back and forth. “You cannot do this, William.”

  “What? Kiss you?” he asked, confused, as he had thought she wanted this as badly as he.

  “Kiss me, say such loving words to me, play with my emotions,” she said, her eyes glossed over by a sheen of tears. “One moment you are the man you have always been, kind, humorous, and altogether lovely. Then the next moment you are cold and nasty, drinking yourself into a man that I do not even want to know yet alone be with. I have been with such a man before, William, and it did not end well for anyone involved. I have no desire to put myself through that again, to be treated in a way that only pulls from me, takes all that I have to give and rips it away.”

  “Your husband?” he asked, needing to know yet not wanting to acknowledge the painful existence she had likely had to endure. He thanked God that it mercifully had not lasted long for her.

  She nodded shakily. “I never loved him, it’s true, which may be the worst of it. But I always thought he would be a pleasant enough companion with whom to share my life. He seemed to want to marry me, particularly when I had no other offers, and he was always respectful. But then after the wedding … he became someone else, someone I did not recognize. I knew he enjoyed the drink, as most men do, but it began to consume him. And I realized, slowly, that he drank to escape his life, to escape … me. But I preferred it, as it meant I no longer had to endure his presence. Soon enough, we were nothing more than two souls occupying the same space, and he left my bed, thank God, the bed of a ‘cold fish’ as he put it, and found his enjoyment elsewhere. And I was glad William. Oh, I was so happy that he was no longer there. I didn’t want him around, I was pleased when he was away. And then he died and I felt so … relieved, which also made me feel like the most awful person, and I just … I just…”

  Her voice broke on a sob, and he reached out to her, offering her comfort that he wasn’t sure she wanted but he would provide for her all the same, if she so chose to receive it. She hesitated but finally stepped into his arms, letting everything go, to flow from her in a release that she had clearly required for some time.

  His heart broke at what she had told him. The effects of her marriage clearly still lingered. He wished he could ease her pain, take away the terrible memories her husband had left her and make things right. Unfortunately, her words regarding him were true. He knew his headaches made him into someone he was not. He wanted to explain all to her, but even to him it sounded like a flimsy, trite excuse, and he did not want to make light of her words or her feelings.

  Perhaps he could take more initiative to try to overcome his ailment. He had attempted a wide variety of methods in the past, though nothing had exactly worked. He would prove to her, however, that he could change, and be the man she wanted him to be. First, though, he had to make her see how wonderful she truly was. As long as she loved him, all would fall into place.

  “Rosalind,” he said as she finally pulled back from him. He offered her his handkerchief, and she used it to wipe her face. “I have to ask you one question. Do you love me?”

  Her eyes flew to his, stormy under the watery sheen overtop of them. She opened her mouth a few times as if to say something, but each time, nothing came out. Finally she looked away from him, out at the lawn, before meeting his gaze once more.

  “I do not know,” she whispered, and his heart fell.

  “I see,” he said, hearing the coldness that came into his voice but was unable to stop. “I promise I can become the man you are looking for. I promise I can change my ways. But — I need you to want me in return.”

  “I—” she began to speak when his mother’s voice cut through the air. William had nearly forgotten the
y were not alone in the outdoor lawn.

  “William! Where have you gotten off to? It is your turn and we are all waiting. Come — oh.” She rounded the corner, stopping when she came upon them, and Rosalind took a step backward. “Lady Templeton. What is happening here?”

  “Lady Templeton and I were simply having a private conversion, Mother,” he said, giving his mother a meaningful stare. “We will take this up later, Lady Templeton. Apparently it is of utmost importance that I return for a swing of my croquet mallet.”

  He sauntered off to the wickets, turning to look at Rosalind over his shoulder. He sighed. Bachelorhood had been so much easier.

  19

  Rosalind turned over William’s handkerchief in her hands. It was made of exquisite linen, his initials, W.E., embroidered into the corner. She finally looked up, willing, in vain, that Lady Southam would be gone.

  “Lady Templeton,” the woman said coyly, and Rosalind closed her eyes for a moment. She didn’t know how much more of this she could take. She wasn’t meant for playing the games of society, and she wished they would all leave her be. “What was it that you and my son were so animatedly discussing?”

  “Simply the wonderful house party you are hosting, Lady Southam,” Rosalind said, forcing a polite smile on her face. “Now, if you will excuse me, I am sure my own turn must be coming up soon and—”

  “Before you do that,” said the woman, reaching her hand out to clasp it around Rosalind’s arm tightly. “We must have a word, you and I.”

  “I believe that is not necessary, my la—”

  “Oh, but it is,” she said with a wicked grin. “It seems you have some kind of designs on my son, Lady Templeton. However, you are not the woman for him, which you know as well as I. You are lovely enough, and from a good family, but you cannot provide for William what he needs. Besides that, you are a widow without any children. How do you even know if you can even provide my son with an heir?”

  Rosalind’s spine stiffened as the woman spoke. She hated conflict to be sure, but not nearly as much as she despised being spoken down to by a woman such as Lady Southam. The woman’s question of her fertility was far too private an affair to discuss.

  “I believe William is old enough to decide for himself what he wants, Lady Southam,” she said, keeping her tone polite. “And please understand, I have no designs on your son, nor anyone else. I am not one to play games. Now, if you will excuse me.”

  She shook her arm free of the woman’s grasp and moved her feet as fast as she could without breaking into an all-out run.

  “Just remember, Lady Templeton,” the woman’s voice rang out after her, “Marriage lasts a lifetime. Can you keep my son interested in you for that long?”

  Rosalind’s heart raced at her words. She tried to ignore them, not allowing the woman to see how they affected her, but they were certainly the best words Lady Southam could have chosen to convince her that a relationship between her and William might not work. Harold had tired of her after a month. How long would it take William?

  No, she told herself, shaking her head. You are better than that, Rosalind. You are smart and pretty and kind, and you deserve someone who realizes all of that and more.

  “Rosalind!” She looked up, seeing that she had nearly run into Tillie, so focused she was on her thoughts. “We wondered at where you were, and I came to find you. The game is finished, unfortunately. Lady Diana is quite adept at croquet, as it were, and soundly trounced the lot of us.”

  “Of course she did,” said Rosalind with a bit of a sigh.

  “Is everything all right?”

  Rosalind shrugged, unsure of what to tell her. Everything was not all right, but what was she to do?

  “Did you and Lord Southam have an … interesting discussion?”

  Rosalind sighed and told her of their conversation as best she could.

  Tillie listened, nodding. When she finished, she looked off into the distance before turning back to Rosalind.

  “I am no expert on matters of the heart,” Tillie said, chewing her bottom lip. “But what I feel is this. First of all, do not allow Lady Southam to play with your emotions. She may believe as she chooses, but I do not think her opinion has much bearing on William. Secondly, you must learn to love yourself, Rosalind, before you can love any other. It is only when you appreciate yourself for who you truly are that you will be able to properly find love. And then you can determine if you are ready to overlook all of William’s demons and love him anyway. For no one will ever truly be perfect.”

  Rosalind managed a small smile, realizing the truth of Tillie’s words. “Thank you, Tillie,” she said. “You are very wise, I must say.”

  “Yes,” said the duchess with a laugh. “I am, am I not?”

  She linked arms with Rosalind as they walked back across the lawn. “Now, I heard someone tell me of puppies here, and I would so love to see them.”

  “That,” Rosalind said with a true grin, “I can help you with. Come.” She led her toward the barn, assuming that no one would miss them for a short while. Besides, how could one be melancholy with puppies around?

  “Lady Diana, you were simply marvelous today,” Lady Southam trilled after all had assembled for dinner. “Wherever did you acquire such skill at croquet?”

  Diana shrugged a shoulder and grinned. “I suppose it comes from having an older brother, Lady Southam. One has to pick up such games quickly in order to remain competitive among them.”

  Lady Southam smiled at her before turning to William with a look of, see, is she not perfect? William refused to meet her glance, turning instead to the woman beside him, the woman who had vexed him so.

  “Lady Templeton,” he said as Rosalind sipped her wine. “I believe we have an unfinished conversation from this afternoon.”

  She raised her eyebrows, as if questioning his decision to speak of such matters in front of the rest of the party. Not that they could hear, but certainly eyes were watching them. William decided, however, that he no longer cared. He was tired of the games they played, of the way they all looked for the slightest hint of gossip they could use to provide enjoyment for themselves and topics for their everyday conversation.

  Now, he simply wanted to find for himself the peace and happiness that seemed within his grasp, yet still so far away.

  He had been taken aback today by Rosalind’s admission that she had never felt any love for her husband, that the idiotic man had distanced himself from her. It seemed to have left Rosalind with a rather dismal outlook on love and men in general, and despite the fact that it was likely wrong of him, William cursed the man for what he had done to her.

  He realized, however, that he was likely no better, having missed what was right in front of him for so many years. He had tried to find Rosalind this afternoon to continue their conversation, but she was clearly avoiding him. He wanted a chance to explain himself, to tell her that he could be the man she wanted, but it was proving difficult to do so. He had ensured a place beside her at dinner tonight, and while by no means private, there was no way she could escape him now.

  “Rosalind,” he said again urgently in her ear as she continued to ignore him. “You must speak to me.”

  “I said what I had to say, William,” she said quietly. “I care for you, I do, but I’m not sure if I can trust any man with my heart. Can we not speak of this later?”

  “Fine,” he replied. “Tonight, after dinner, in the conservatory.”

  “All right,” she said with a bit of a sigh that sent a pang to his heart. Would it be that difficult for her to speak with him? He worried at what she might say if this was how she reacted to a simple few words at the dinner table.

  He turned to find his mother’s stare piercing into him and he wondered at how much she had heard. For whatever reason, he knew his mother wasn’t fond of Rosalind, and he didn’t want her to interfere with what was happening between them.

  William tried to speak with Rosalind again but found that Lord Merryweat
her had commanded her attention. Damn the man. He typically liked Merryweather, but in this moment he cursed his gentlemanly ways and charm. He seemed to be using it on Rosalind far too often. After dinner, he told himself. He only had to wait until then and he could have Rosalind all to himself and tell her exactly how he felt.

  “Alfred,” Lady Southam hissed, as she latched onto her younger son’s elbow and steered him into the empty breakfast room before he could continue past her into the drawing room to join the rest of the party.

  “Mother!” Alfred said, jumping when she surprised him with her presence. “Why are you creeping around like a hunting predator?”

  “I needed to speak to you before you went in with the others,” she said, crossing her arms over chest. “It’s about Lady Templeton.”

  “What about her?” Alfred asked, narrowing his eyes at her.

  “She and your brother have become far too close,” she said. “Your warnings toward her do not seem to be working.”

  Alfred sighed. His mother was getting far too fraught with worry. True, it would be an unfortunate turn of events were William to keep the woman around, though why he would Alfred wasn’t certain. He could hardly see the fascination with her. Surely William simply meant to have his way with the widow and would then let her be on her way?

  “Don’t worry yourself over it, Mother,” he said. “Lady Templeton will be gone soon enough once the house party is over.”

  “That’s the thing, Alfred,” she said, her grip tightening where she clung to his arm. “I think William wants more than that. I am afraid he may even want to marry the chit.”

  “Marry her?” Alfred scoffed. “Don’t be daft.”

  “It is you that is being a dunce, Alfred,” she said, finally letting him go and knocking a knuckle against his head. “Of all the people in London, why did you have to abduct her, a woman with no one to pay a ransom? We were looking for a payout, not for such a woman to fall into your brother’s arms!”

  Alfred felt anger begin simmering in his belly at his mother’s words. This had all been her plan, and yes it had gone very poorly, but she could hardly blame him for it. Nor was it his fault the woman remained, a constant reminder of his failure.