The Viscount Meets his Match: A Regency Romance Read online

  “You tell me, Mama.”

  “This is ridiculous,” her mother blustered. “I need to get ready to meet Lady Craddock, and if I do not hurry, I’ll be late. Just make certain you know what to pack and get Mary to ensure everything is ready when it is needed.”

  Would it be counted as readiness if she included a dagger?

  * * * *

  David rode out from Tansy House, Lady Foster’s country home, early enough to enjoy a gallop along the local bridle paths and be back in time to bathe, dress and appear presentable for the Bowies’ arrival after luncheon. Those first few minutes would be crucial to the success of his campaign to woo and wed Josephine. Her parents would not be a problem, except for interfering and trying to coerce Josephine into accepting his proposal. At the thought of their daughter as a potential duchess, they would be in alt. Her papa had beamed when he had asked permission to address his daughter.

  “But I have to say, the girl is a mystery to me. She’s seen off enough suitors over these last years to give every new debutante a husband twice over. Don’t understand it myself, but for every one who approached me, not one ended in an offer.” Her papa had paused and shrugged. He hadn’t met David’s eye. “My poor Josephine. Who knows why, but it must worry her.”

  Why had his interest in his daughter appeared false? Even if he hadn’t been privy to some of her thoughts, her parents’ attitude would have struck David as odd. Almost as if it were a prepared speech.

  “Or, maybe I should say, not one ended in an offer that I heard about,” Lord Bowie had added. “For all I know, she cut them off before they got started. Now she’s got this crazy idea in her brain that she’s had enough and is retiring from the ton to live in the wilds of Northumberland. Even if her mama’s ancestors hail from that area, it is no excuse to hie there as soon as she is old enough. Her poor mama is in despair. Well, I tell you, my boy, if you can dissuade her from that, you’ll have my eternal gratitude. Save us worrying about her.”

  As worrying about their daughter was something David reckoned the Bowies never did, he’d chosen not to answer in any great detail but had merely nodded his head and replied with brevity, “I will do my best.” Not what he’d really wanted to say, but to tell your prospective father-in-law he was a disgrace to all men was not the way to ensure a positive outcome to your wooing.

  That had led to the invitation to Tansy House.

  Even though he had reiterated that any interference and he would back off, he knew there would be some sort of parental pressure exerted, and he intended to limit it as much as possible. He wanted Josephine, but only if she wanted him, not because she was in some way forced into accepting him. He didn’t bother to ponder the knotty question of why her and no one else. David had no idea why she affected him so. However, he wanted to discover what made her tick. Plus, if he were honest, to find out to what degree she was aware of him and ascertain if he could increase that awareness to a level where she yearned for more. It certainly hadn’t been propinquity, she had made sure any meetings were minimal, but something about her called to him. He was equally as certain it was not just that he was ready to wed and was on the lookout for a suitable wife. He had always known whoever he married would have to be a certain sort of person to satisfy him, and hadn’t held out a lot of hope of finding her. However, it seemed Josephine could be that person. It wasn’t just because she would be everything his father thought wrong in a wife, although if he were honest that did play a part. It was also that if there was one thing he did know, it was that lust could and did strike anywhere and at any time. So it surely followed that more than lust could do the same.

  Only with Josephine. Where did that come from? David blinked. What else had he decided?

  More than lu— He stopped that thought short. Was it more? How the hell would he know?

  Lust or whatever apart, if he had a chance to get to know her better, and she him, he was certain he’d be able to bring her around to his way of thinking. He mentally jumped. No, he wasn’t at all certain. She seemed to be the only woman immune to his charm.

  David put his heels to Pegasus and let the horse have his head for five glorious minutes. When he slowed, they were both breathing heavily, and he was ready to face whatever the day would bring.

  ‘You are a nothing, you will end up in gaol or deported. A blight to our name.’ Why had that taunt from his father all those years ago re-emerged now? His scars throbbed again, and he deliberately let himself remember just one of the many whippings the man had seen fit to administer. The last one.

  On the hot summer day over twenty years earlier, David hadn’t broken the window of his godmother’s prize hothouse. He’d been nowhere near. The fact that he had been playing in the river with some of the local lads, an activity strictly forbidden as ‘beneath his status’, had kept him quiet. Those few snatched hours had been precious to him, and had given him friends he would otherwise not have had. However, his parents’ arrival at Lady Foster’s house had coincided with him walking across the lawn and Janie Foster’s head gardener telling his employer about the smashed panes. His father had snatched the whip from his coachman and laid about David without waiting for explanations.

  The sharp slash of the whip over his shoulders had brought David to his senses with a jolt. Up until then, he could have agreed that some punishments were deserved in that he had committed a misdemeanor or other. But this violation, given without cause or justification, had been one too many. With a roar, and the strength of an almost adult youth, he had snatched the whip from his father. Instead of returning the stroke across his parent’s body—something in his red haze of rage and pain he could easily have done—David had found strength of mind and body he didn’t know he possessed. The whip had been broken in half and thrown onto the ground in front of the duke.

  “Do not ever try anything like that again,” he had said in a voice devoid of any emotion whatsoever. “Or it will be the last thing you do. Even hardened criminals get a hearing. You have played judge and jury and found me guilty—wrongly—once too often.”

  Lady Foster had started toward David. He’d waved her away. He hadn’t wanted her to see just how scarred his back was, and how the new injuries would just add more scars in time. “Now please excuse me, whilst I wash and make myself presentable for my godmother’s table.” He’d bowed toward his mama, who’d stood at the carriage steps, white and shaking, smiled at his godmother and ignored his father. As he’d left them, he’d heard the tremulous voice of the head gardener.

  “A branch fell from the apple tree, m’lady, and broke the pane. I never had a chance to tell you.”

  His father had never mentioned anything more about the incident. His parents had left the following day, and David had stopped in Derbyshire until he’d gone back to school. After that, his visits to his home had been as infrequent as possible. He saw his mama when he could, saw his papa when he had to and spent as much time as possible wherever his parents were not.

  Strange that those memories should come back so clearly. Why was he out of sorts? Because so much rested on those next few days? Not just to show his papa—if the man cared or even discovered what his son was up to—that he had a mind of his own, and wasn’t afraid to use it but also because he wanted, really wanted, to learn more about Josephine. Plus show her he was not a lightweight and was a good and upright citizen who would be a perfect and loyal husband, true only to his wife and family. Who would love and cherish his progeny, whatever sex.

  David took a deep breath and let his pulse slow and his mind become calm. It would do no good to rush his fences. He needed to be cool, calm and collected. With deliberation, he let the peace of the countryside fill him.

  This part of Derbyshire was hilly, wooded and picturesque. He’d visited it as man and boy and knew it intimately. Each time he returned, he was struck anew at the sheer size of everything. Not dissimilar in some ways from his beloved Yorkshire, and in others as unlike it as it could possibly be. He skirted a larg
e outcrop of rock that he’d climbed many times as a boy, although it had seemed ten times higher and twice as daunting in those days. He scanned the area with a keen eye and noticed the nearest cave to the house was now fenced off. Probably too many local lads doing as he had—exploring without sharing their destination.

  He’d had more than one thick ear from Lady Foster due to that sort of behavior.

  David glanced at his watch and noted with a shock he’d been out longer than he’d realized. Somewhat reluctant but knowing he had no option, David turned Pegasus back toward Tansy House and gradually slowed their pace. When he trotted into his godmother’s small but perfectly presented stable yard, he was happy and satisfied he was ready to face anything that the next few days—and Josephine—could throw at him.

  He handed his horse over to his groom. “I hate not being able to rub him down myself, but time got away from me. I’ll need to get a move on.”

  “Indeed, my lord, I believe there is but a half-hour until luncheon. Never fear, I’ll do right by him.”

  “Good man.” David clapped him on the shoulder. “Thank you. I know you will.” He walked quickly toward the house, stripping off his gloves as he made his way to the back entrance and the minor stairs that would take him to within a few yards of the room always allocated to him. It was situated across the gable end of the house, at the end of one corridor, and he’d occupied it since he’d first ever visited. The views of the moors were vast, and the old tree nearby, with branches that tapped his windowpanes, had long been his own personal entrance to the house. He wondered idly if the ivy and oak would still take his weight. Not that he intended to discover that fact, of course.

  Tansy House was not overlarge, having a mere ten bedchambers, but it suited Lady Foster perfectly. And for David’s purpose it couldn’t have been better. Each wing of the house had five bedrooms with their own sitting rooms and bathing chambers.

  As soon as he arrived in the house, Lady Foster waylaid him.

  “Ah. I wondered where you were.” She wrinkled her nose. “I might have guessed you’d be on horseback. Lucky thing. I could do with a ride to blow the cobwebs away.”

  “I bet you managed to sneak out earlier before anyone was around,” David said. “I know you.”

  “I…” Lady Foster spluttered and held her hands out in supplication. “What can I say?”

  David grinned. “Nothing. Don’t you go and apologize. I’d have done the same thing.”

  “Thank goodness, and to be honest, I did the cobweb thing the other day. Now, as to your guests…” She winked and informed him that as he, Josephine, Lyddie and a hopeful James Dempster were the only ‘young things’, she’d put the others close to him in the east wing. “But not,” she declared, “with either gel next door to you or young Dempster. That would not be acceptable. He’s next to you, the gels are on the other side of the corridor.”

  Which meant, due to the position of his apartment, one of them had to be next to him, albeit with their bathing chambers separating their accommodation. No doubt it would be Lyddie, for his godmother would have no intention of making things too easy for him.

  “The rest of us”—herself, the Bowies, Lord Aitken and the Hansons, the other couple she had invited for the occasion—“will occupy all the rooms in the west wing. Mind you, if the Bowies hadn’t been determined to share a room, and the Orchid room wasn’t so large, it could have been different,” she said as she and he sat in the snug family dining room and began to eat lunch. “But I have put them in there and hope they like it. So what happens now is up to you. I’ve done my bit.”

  “You have indeed. So who is due to arrive when?” David helped her then himself to a slice of salmon and some salad. “I know James will be here within an hour or so. He was to stop overnight in Chesterfield with Brampton. He promised to arrive before two.”

  “Then he’ll be the first. Lyddie is to drive over with the Hansons as they live near her parents. The Bowies intimated they would arrive by four. Freddie Aitken arrived when you were out, but decided to take a nap and eat in his room. Suits me, that’s one less meal I have to endure with him.” She gave her infectious guffaw. “He’ll be up in time for a snack before dinner, even though we keep country hours. Can’t let him go without regular snacks. He’s convinced he’ll fade away.”

  “Why did you invite him if you feel like that?” David asked with interest. Lord Aitken was a jovial, rotund gentleman who did indeed say at regular intervals he needed to keep his strength up. “Why not someone else?”

  “Better the devil you know,” Janie said. “Ah, he’s fine really, but when he is tired he is a nightmare. Best he rests and is refreshed for later. I’ll need him to stop me telling Drusilla Bowie what I think of her.”

  That sounded fair enough. David applied himself to his meal, and the conversation became general. Replete, he pushed his chair back as a commotion sounded in the hall outside.

  “James,” he guessed.

  Janie Foster snorted. “Bound to be. You and he were always the ones to make the most noise.” She paused and winked. “And mess.”

  The door opened and a caped and dusty-booted James Dempster entered and bowed over Lady Foster’s hand.

  “Excuse my dirt, but Birtwhistle”— the major-domo—“said if I came in there might be some food left. As Brampton’s chef walked out yesterday, something to do with ingrates who didn’t enjoy good tripe, we had to partake of dinner in an inn.” He shuddered theatrically. “So no sumptuous meal, just basic fare. I’m fair clemmed, as you’d say up north.”

  David laughed. “Exaggerating as usual.”

  James grinned, not a whit abashed. “Well, just a bit, but a bite to eat would be most welcome. As Brampton is still chef-less, breakfast was uninspired to say the least. So yes, if you don’t mind me sitting down in my somewhat disheveled state, any food to feed me will be gratefully received.”

  “Whenever is food not,” Janie Foster asked rhetorically. “You better fill up before you fade away. I’ll leave David to entertain you. I’m off to check my chef hasn’t bolted. Mind you, as when he heard I actually had visitors due he beamed and began to decide on his menus, I very much doubt it.” She whisked out of the room in a flurry of skirts and, within moments, her booming voice could be heard asking some servant or another question after question.

  “So what’s the plan?” James mumbled as he stuffed his mouth with a hot pork pie, homemade mustard and some ale. “This is good—Durham mustard?”

  “Derbyshire, made by the chef, who, even if he is French, loves Godmama enough to make her his take on the English version. Thank the Lord you are here.”

  “Well, if you chose to thank him, so be it. When does everyone arrive? In fact, who is everyone else?”

  David filled him in on details as James made short shrift of the pie, several slices of rare roast beef and the rest of an apple pie and cream.

  “Trying your hand at matchmaking, are you?” James asked as he studied a fruitcake and cut himself a generous slice.

  David raised his eyebrows. “Me? Of course.”

  “That’s all right then,” James said dryly. “I wish you luck, and do not involve me.”

  “As if I would. Lady F. has done that instead. She’s invited Lyddie.”

  “The—” James spluttered crumbs and glared at David, just as David heard the rumble of carriage wheels.

  “Come on, I wager that is the Bowies. Support me and help me look innocent.”

  James swallowed his cake and wiped his mouth. “Impossible.”

  Chapter Five

  Josephine looked around her with interest as the carriage rumbled around the semicircular drive and pulled up in front of a large house built of warm gray Derbyshire limestone. It had been a long, at times boring drive, interspersed with obsequious innkeepers and the blessed relief of a room to herself and Mary, and no parents making her feel she was an insect under a microscope’s lens. They had dined in their room, and taken a separate carriage, s
omething she was well used to.

  Each evening after dinner, Josephine had relished the way she was able to sit in restful silence, as Mary had sewed and she, with a mental apology to each and every tutor who had tried to make her embroider tidily, had sat and read.

  Now, as her parents’ coach pulled up behind them, Josephine collected her thoughts and mentally prepared for whatever was to happen next.

  The large imposing doors opened and servants rushed out to mill around the vehicles, hand her parents and herself out and retrieve the luggage.

  Lady Foster sailed—there was no other word for it—down the three wide and shallow steps and embraced her mama and her in turn. “So glad you made it, and in such good time, eh? You’ve even beaten the Hansons and my goddaughter. Not so Suddards and Dempster, though.” She indicated David and James Dempster, with whom Josephine had a mere nodding acquaintance. “They have been reacquainting themselves with their surroundings.”

  She ignored the two men and rounded on Josephine. “Now then, I’ll show your parents to their room, Josephine, and let these two youngsters take care of you. The green room, David. Lyddie, when she arrives, is in the gold room. You’ll be fine, my dear,” she said firmly, and patted Josephine’s hands. “They know how to toe the line.”

  Josephine shut her mouth. She hadn’t been going to argue, just to proffer her thanks, but ‘know how’ and ‘will do’ were two very different things.

  “We don’t stand on ceremony here,” Lady Foster finished as she began to herd Lord and Lady Bowie toward the steps. “Just relax and enjoy ourselves, eh? No pomp.”

  It seemed not. Josephine watched as her parents left her—as usual without a backward glance—and walked into the house with their hostess. They were arm in arm with each other—also normal behavior from them. Their interest in her had waned over the journey, and the last exchange had been merely to warn her not to disgrace them.