The Appeal of an Elusive Viscount Read online

  Clara shrugged. “Have you kissed?”

  “Clara...” Vivian gasped. “Of course they have not kissed.”

  “We did so,” Penelope interjected. “Right out there in our garden.” She pointed to the window, her expression defiant.

  Her mother shook her head. “How long ago was that?”

  At the question, Penelope lost her bravado. “It doesn’t matter. I’m sure if given the opportunity, we would kiss again.”

  “Ha!” Clara exclaimed. “You haven’t had an opportunity in years then.”

  “Enough of this silly conversation, girls,” her mother said as she made her way to the doorway. “Let us make our way downstairs. Ensure you have your gloves and cloaks. It’s quite chilly out. We leave in a few moments.” She turned and looked at them, her expression stern.

  “It is rumored that Viscount Torrington and his friend, Alexander Yarnsby, both very eligible bachelors, will be in attendance at the dinner tonight. Ensure to be on your best behavior. Being it will be a smaller gathering, it will make for a perfect opportunity for you girls to make their acquaintances and get to know them.”

  Instead of going to her room to fetch necessary items, Vivian hesitated, waiting for Penelope to leave. Once their youngest sister was gone, she smiled. “Today, I saw the most handsome man. He was at Hyde Park.”

  “I hope he wasn't the man in the puddle Penelope told me about.”

  Vivian sighed. “No, he was not, but he knew the man in the puddle. He had a horse.”

  “Was the horse what made him handsome?” Clara giggled. “Did he introduce himself?”

  “Oh no.” Vivian blushed. “He was much too far away. Once his friend got out of the puddle, he mounted and left in the direction of Whites.”

  Clara did her best to be patient. “What did he look like, Viv?”

  “Oh. Right. He is tall, with light brown hair. Interesting that he wore it loose, but then again, his hair is short. It would not allow for a queue, I suppose. I am not sure I like the look of a man’s hair pulled back...”

  Clara gave up on trying to get a description as Vivian droned on. Her sister could become lost in thought while talking. It was both adorable and annoying.

  “Go downstairs. Mother will be calling us in a bit. I don’t want to go to this dinner party with her in an annoyed mood.”

  Taking the gown and carefully lowering it to the floor, she stepped into it and pulled it up. It came to her shoulders, falling just enough to display only the crest of her breasts. It was a modest cut, as she hated the look of breasts about to explode over the top. After donning her cloak and gloves, Clara inspected herself in the mirror.

  Her hair had been pulled up into an intricate up-do with curls falling to her shoulders and at her temples. A pearl necklace circled her neck just below the throat. She smiled at the fact her mother had not noticed she’d placed just a bit of rouge on her lips. Although she was not as beautiful as Vivian, Clara was content with being pretty. Her green eyes sparkled brightly in anticipation of finally leaving home. If this viscount was eligible, then she’d see to it that he would take notice of Vivian.

  It wasn’t the first time she’d played at matchmaking. Her last attempt had worked magnificently. Clara’s lips curved at formulating a plan and she dashed from the room to find Penelope.

  As expected, the youngest of the Humphries sisters had the smallest bedroom. However, she also had the largest collection of gowns, gloves, jewelry and accessories. Items were strewn everywhere making Clara take care when entering the room. Penelope’s gaze met hers in the mirror. “I’m trying to hurry, but I changed my mind about the violet dress. I think tonight calls for a darker color, since Tommy won’t be there.

  Clara ignored the comment and grabbed Penelope’s arm. “You must help me,” she whispered.

  “Help you with what?” Penelope’s eyes instantly brightened.

  “Ensure the very eligible viscount notices our beautiful sister. We must take every opportunity to get them together to speak. Then, once they do, we will make an excuse to leave and take whoever happens to be near with us.”

  Penelope clapped. “What a fabulous plan. How positively exciting.” She eyed the violet dress. “Perhaps, I should wear the new gown. It will assist with my better mood.”

  “Girls!” their mother called out. “Come at once.”

  Once again, Penelope clapped, barely holding still as Clara tied her dress in the back. “Our secret code word is ‘nice’. It means it is time to put our plan into action. If the plan is already in action, it will mean it’s time for us to give them privacy.”

  “I don’t think we need...”

  “Girls!”

  The carriage ride took half an hour and the entire way their father grumbled. Although a wealthy actuary to some of the most distinguished families in London, he would prefer not to attend functions and remain home researching. With graying temples and a riot of auburn curls that were barely contained into a queue, he remained a handsome man. “I tell you, Sarah, this is the most inopportune time for a dinner. I am on the brink of mastering the subject at hand.”

  “The brink can wait until tomorrow, dear,” her mother replied, her face stoic. “Wasn’t this the reason we missed the Rothschild’s soiree last week?”

  Clara did her best not to laugh when her father’s eyebrows shot up. “Yes, well, and it was just one of the reasons. I am still on the same subject.”

  “Father, I am sure readers will love your article on socialization of criminals.” Penelope attempted to make him feel better.

  Instead, her father was aghast. “The article is about the reintegration into society of someone who’s been captured and held prisoner.”

  “Oh,” Penelope frowned. “That is not as interesting.”

  Vivian giggled and Clara elbowed her.

  “Girls,” their mother chided as she gave them a stern look. “Do your best to keep the conversation away from criminals or people being captured. Remain on current events in society.”

  Clara wasn’t sure exactly what her mother meant. However, she was aware of how to hold a conversation in polite society. From the corner of her eye, she tried to read Penelope’s expression. Her younger sister frowned and cocked her head to the side.

  “The most intriguing event right now is the true reason why so many gentlemen meet in the library basement on Thursday nights.”

  “No!” their mother yelled. “Don’t you dare speak about that.”

  “Everyone will be talking about it.” Penelope crossed her arms. “I won’t have anything to talk about. No one cares about the silly, old, butterfly exhibit.”

  “That is exactly the subject you can discuss.” Their mother pressed her fingers against the bridge of her nose. “Lord, help me.”

  Chapter Four

  There were only a few other people in attendance at the Barrow’s mansion when Clara and her family arrived.

  The butler showed them in. “Good evening,” he greeted them with a sweep of his hand, showing them in.

  Clara leaned closer to get his attention. “Robert, is tonight to be an intimate gathering?”

  “Depends on what you consider intimate, Miss Clara. We are expecting forty guests.”

  “Poo, much larger than I thought.” She smiled widely at the butler who met her eyes with warmth in his gaze.

  The dinner party was much larger than Clara had anticipated. That meant any plans to corral Vivian and the viscount would be tricky.

  They entered into the beautiful foyer that always took her breath away. She loved Lord and Lady Barrow who, although very wealthy, were gracious to everyone regardless of social station.

  Her father had been the family actuary for many years and, therefore, the Humphries were considered close friends of the Barrows.

  Instead of formalities, Lady Barrow and Clara’s mother hugged and kissed each other’s cheeks.

  Lady Barrow then hugged Clara and her sisters while exclaiming about how beautiful they wer
e.

  The Barrows’ only son, Theodore, was gone to India, which meant they were free to coddle other’s children. Clara didn’t mind, she actually loved coming on her own on occasion to explore the couple’s extensive library. After perusing to her heart’s content, she’d have tea with Lady Barrow. Her visits were wonderful ways to spend a chilly afternoon.

  Within the hour, the salon and parlor were filled with people. Clara sat with her sisters in the parlor, after she ensured they had a perfect view of the entry and most of the salon on the opposite side of the foyer.

  Lady Barrow and their mother were seated on the left side along with Mrs. Smiting and her daughters. Clara and her sisters found the Smitings most annoying.

  The woman went on and on about how she and her daughters had met both Viscount Torrington and also Mr. Yarnsby. She proclaimed them most handsome several times, which made Clara reconsider her plan to match him with Vivian.

  According to Mrs. Smiting, the men had been struck speechless upon meeting her daughters. The woman’s pronouncement had to be a lie, because Irene and Willa Smiting were the dullest people she’d ever met.

  With constant dour expressions, they acted as if life was an ever-present annoyance.

  Clara looked to the Smiting sisters now who sat side-by-side on a settee near a window. They looked straight ahead with a glass of something or other in one hand. Neither said a word, nor did they look at anyone.

  “Mrs. Smiting,” Clara said, getting the woman’s attention. “Is Willa unwell?”

  The woman swung to look at her daughters who now stared at the floor. “Goodness, no. They are both so excited to be here. I could barely contain them from rushing to the carriage.” After a strangled chuckle, she clapped and both daughters looked up. “It’s so exciting, isn’t it, girls?”

  Neither responded verbally, instead they nodded in perfect time. Penelope coughed to ineffectively hide a giggle and Vivian frowned in the direction of the Smiting sisters. “I do believe Willa is ill. She seems about to faint.”

  “Nonsense.” Mrs. Smiting, once again, looked to her daughters. It was true. Willa was pale and swayed just a bit.

  Just then, there was commotion near the front door as more guests arrived. Lady Barrow got to her feet and joined her husband to greet whoever entered.

  “It must mean dinner will be served shortly,” Mrs. Smiting said as she jumped to her feet and rushed to stand just behind the Barrows. Irene joined her leaving Willa to continue to remain in her strange stupor.

  Although it was impossible to see who entered, by the whisperings, it had to be the viscount and his friend. Several women craned their necks to get a glimpse while Mrs. Smiting’s high-pitched giggle made those close to her cringe.

  Penelope reached behind Vivian and pinched Clara’s arm. “It would be nice if we made our way to the dining room to see who is seated where.”

  “Oh, yes, quite nice,” Clara replied, impressed by Penelope’s quick thinking. They got up and dashed away before Vivian or their mother could stop them.

  In the grand room, several servants scurried about. They were busy making last minute preparations so they paid the sisters little mind.

  “Here,” Penelope hissed pointing at a place card. “The viscount. Oh.” She pursed her lips. “It seems he is seated next to you.”

  Clara hurried down a few seats attempting to find Vivian’s card to switch them. “I don’t see Vivian.”

  “She’s on his left,” Penelope grinned. “Mr. Yarnsby is on Vivian’s left.”

  “Should we switch them?” Clara pressed a finger to her lips.

  “Why would we do that?” Penelope grabbed Clara’s hand. “Who is on your right?”

  She peered at the name and cringed. “Randolph Doolittle, the imp.”

  “That is not nice.” Penelope giggled, switching the place card so that their cousin, Todd, sat on Clara’s right.

  “Now, let me see who sits next to me.” Penelope scurried until stopping and crossing her arms. “Most horrible.”

  “What is, darling?” Clara neared and laughed. Gordon Barrow, the host’s nephew, had been seated next to Penelope. Her sister didn’t care for the young man in the least. Clara wasn’t sure why, as the young man was obviously besotted with Penelope.

  “You can’t switch it,” Clara said. “They will know.”

  “Crumpets,” Penelope exclaimed, crossing her arms and pouting.

  Clara took her arm. “Come, we have to return.”

  They rushed until they reached the entrance to the foyer. Then they slowed down as if they had been taking a leisurely stroll.

  “There you are.” Lady Barrow came to them. “You must meet my sweet friend’s son. Theresa Torrington and I are distant cousins, but she is a wonderful friend who entrusted me to ensure William and Alexander are...”

  Whatever Lady Barrow said faded into the background. Loud thumps echoed in her ears as she spotted him. Not the viscount, but the dark prince from Brooks’. It was as if everyone who surrounded him misted away until he alone remained in the center of the space. Commanding attention, while maintaining an aura of elusiveness, he somehow managed to be present and not altogether engaged. His gaze went from face to face as people vied for his attention.

  When he bent over a woman’s hand, his lips hovered but a hair above the skin. He didn’t smile. But at the same time, his expression was not unfriendly. Serene would be how she’d describe him until noticing the slight tick just above his jawline.

  The dark prince did not like being there. He did not like it one bit.

  Although there were many guests, Clara was sure she could blend into the background so he’d not notice her. Besides, she had been dressed in Molly’s dullest dress. Surely, the man would not recognize her unless they were in very close proximity.

  “Come, Clara,” someone said, slipping his or her arm through hers. Was it Penelope?

  Why couldn’t she hear anything? Now, her breathing came in short gasps and her lungs screamed for more air. Did she look like Willa? Was she in a stupor?

  “Dear William, I must introduce you to the Humphries’ other daughters. Clara and Penelope, I present Viscount William Torrington.”

  “How nice,” Penelope quipped.

  “No...no it’s not,” Clara said to Penelope who frowned in return.

  “Clara, darling, are you unwell?” Lady Barrow tapped her cheek.

  “What? Oh, yes. Yes, I am perfect.” Clara lowered her head in a deep curtsy. “My Lord, nice to meet you.”

  “Ladies.” The viscount’s eyes twinkled with amusement as he bent over her hand. He did the same to Penelope, but looked to Clara. “You both look quite familiar.”

  Penelope giggled. “I believe I saw you chasing after your hounds at the park just yesterday. My sister, Vivian, was with me.”

  “I see,” he replied.

  “Is your friend, Mr. Alexander Yarnsby, with you?” Penelope asked searching the room.

  Just as Clara took a step back hoping to escape back to the dining room to switch the place cards, said Mr. Yarnsby came to stand beside her. “I am, indeed,” he replied to Penelope.

  “How nice.” Penelope looked to Clara, eyes sparkling. “I look forward to what this evening will bring.”

  Clara lifted her gaze, only to lock with the viscount’s. The corners of his lips twitched and he arched a brow. He recognized her.

  “Are you the quiet sister?” Mr. Yarnsby asked Clara. He was handsome and, if she were to be honest, on par with the dark prince...the viscount. However, his attractiveness was very different. Mr. Yarnsby seemed more at ease and he smiled when speaking. If there was a bit of aloofness, it was no doubt due to the fact he was unfamiliar with anyone there.

  “Not at all. Vivian is the quiet, much nicer sister. She is almost without fault.”

  He lifted a brow. “Almost?”

  “Vivian doesn’t like to share her sweets,” Penelope interjected. “She can be quite selfish about it.”

  �
��Penelope.” Their mother came up behind Mr. Yarnsby with Vivian, who blushed at being noticed. “Come at once. I require your help in finding your father.”

  “This dress suits you much better,” the viscount whispered to Clara. “Have you attended any more lectures?”

  When she swallowed, it was a struggle. “No, I have not been allowed out of the house since that day.”

  “Unfortunate.”

  She wanted to tell him to lower his voice and not act like he knew her. But she couldn’t formulate the words. Finally, an idea came to her. “My sister, Vivian, would love to tell you all about...” He was gone. She noticed him being guided away by Lord Barrow to meet a group of men.

  “Good,” Clara said to herself.

  Vivian rushed to her and grabbed her upper arm. “Is he not the most handsome man?”

  “A bit. However, I like the other one better.”

  “You like the viscount better?”

  “No, his friend.”

  “That’s who I spoke about.” Vivian frowned at the viscount’s back. “You think he’s more handsome?”

  “I’m confused.” Clara lost track of who Vivian was talking about, her mind was bogged down with what to do about things.

  “Oh, never mind.”

  Dinner was announced and Clara rushed to the dining room, hoping to switch the place card so that she sat next to Mr. Yarnsby and not the very distracting dark prince.

  “This won’t do.” Todd appeared and moved his name back to where it had been originally, switching it with the annoying Mr. Doolittle’s. “No offense, dear cousin, but I know you.”

  Clara huffed. “I prefer not to sit next to Doolittle.”

  “And why not?”

  The man had materialized out of thin air.

  Air became stuck in her throat and Clara coughed. “Nothing personal, Mr. Doolittle, my complaint is that we already know each other and I think these types of affairs are to make new acquaintances.”

  The man peered down at the place cards. “I’ve only met you once or twice.” The man managed to peer down his nose at her even though he was probably the same height. “Either way, it’s horrible manners to rearrange place cards.” He pulled out the chair for her to sit and Clara did.