The Appeal of an Elusive Viscount Page 5

  “True,” William agreed.

  * * *

  The next morning, it was snowing. The roads were covered with a light sprinkling that always made one aware of the holiday season that approached. William and Alexander exited the actuary’s offices and made their way down the street to a coffee shop.

  “This weather makes me yearn to return to Berkhamsted,” William grumbled. “No reason to go out other than to check on the horses.”

  “Even then, they are in a warm and cozy barn,” Alexander added with a grimace. “The roads will soon be dirty and the air filled with the smell of burning coal.”

  William chuckled under his breath. “Aren’t we a pair of cheerfulness?”

  Just then, bright red hair caught his notice. The woman lifted the hood of a cape to cover it before darting down an alley. Whoever it was carried a basket and a small bundle.

  “I’ll be with you shortly,” he told Alexander. “I have to see something.”

  “Gladly,” Alexander agreed as he hurried into the coffee shop. He was too intent to drink the dark, hot liquid than to pay any attention to what William had seen.

  The slight figure moved deftly over the cobblestones until coming to a doorway. After knocking twice without answer, he or she peered through the window.

  “Crumpets. Where is that boy?” It was Clara. She knocked again and the door opened. A young man, no older than fifteen if William were to guess, stepped out and dug his hands deep into his dirty pants. Hair askew, he yawned and hunched his shoulders at the cold.

  Thanks to an enclave on the side of the building, William was well hidden. He peeked out to see what was happening. What in the world was the woman up to now? William was sure she’d end up in trouble sooner or later if she kept up assignations with people who lived in tiny apartments in alleyways.

  “Here, take this. Make tea with the herbs and make sure your mother drinks it all. Here is some food. And this bundle holds a new shirt and pants for you.” She held out the basket and bundle. “I better go now. Give your mother our best wishes.”

  William pushed back against the building and waited for her to come near. Just as she reached him, he took her arm.

  “Ahhhhh!” Her loud scream was followed by a hard slap and a kick to his shin.

  “Ouch,” he yelped and released her arm.

  Quick as lightning, she darted away and he gave chase.

  “Clara!”

  She stopped and whirled around. “What in the world are you doing skulking about in alleys?” Her eyes were bright with indignation. “How dare you scare me like that?”

  There was no answer that would sound right, so he decided it was best not to reply. “I was about to have coffee with Alexander. Would you care to join us?”

  “Unescorted?” She had the nerve to look down her nose at him. “Most inappropriate.”

  “You were just in the alley speaking to a ragamuffin. What do you call that?”

  “Reaching out to the poor. Providing for those in need.”

  She had a point.

  He arched a brow. “And your escort?”

  “Mrs. Tattersworth, our cook, is at the market.” She pointed to her right. “Just around the corner.”

  If she was lying, he wasn’t going to challenge her. “It’s very cold out here, Clara.”

  She let out a sigh. “It’s not so bad. Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.”

  Not wanting to let her leave yet, he neared. “Who was that person to you? How do you know him?”

  “Jules is a chimney sweep. He comes by my home every so often to work and I’ve gotten to know him. He is only fourteen. Has been working and caring for his mother for years. It’s a sad situation really. Every so often, I come with Mrs. Tattersworth to the market and deliver something for them.”

  “It’s very kind of you,” he replied, meaning it.

  She looked past him toward the alley. “It’s the right thing to do. When I can’t come, I make sure someone from the household brings them food. They are desperately in need. I admire Jules for never asking for anything and always being grateful for what we give.”

  “I am willing to bet he is not the only person in town you help.” William wasn’t sure why, but upon seeing Clara with the young man, it was apparent to him that it was her nature and what she did often.

  Their gazes met for a long time. Clara bit her lip as if in thought of how to reply. Finally, she shook her head. “When was the last time you helped someone in need, My Lord?”

  Her question took him by surprise. As he pondered without a reply, she gave a slight nod and he touched the brim of his hat. Clara walked away to join a woman who’d been watching them from a short distance away.

  * * *

  Inside the coffee shop was warm and rather crowded. The murmurs of conversations merged with the sound of spoons against the cups and plates. Alexander looked up from a newspaper when William lowered to a chair opposite him.

  “Was that Clara Humphries? What was she doing out unaccompanied?”

  “She was with Mrs. Tattersworth, their cook.”

  Alexander looked out. “Were her other sisters along?”

  “Alex, do you or your mother do things for those in need?”

  His friend shrugged. “Of course. It’s rather a large undertaking every winter. Mother insists new blankets and food get delivered to the poor in the village. It has become a tradition of sorts. I find it...” his friend hesitated, “...a reminder of how fortunate I am to be born to a family of wealth.”

  “That’s great,” William replied considering he never took much interest in what undertakings his mother did. If she did something like Alexander’s mother, he’d not paid much attention to it. Now that he lived in his own estate, he remained closed off from the local people. His cook took care of going to the nearby village for provisions. If he did go to the village, it was to visit the pub to meet Alexander and a couple of other well-to-do friends or go out for a ride.

  Clara Humphries had to be one of the most interesting women he’d ever met. “I think,” he began, drawing Alexander’s attention, once again, away from the newspaper. “I may have just found my future wife.”

  “You mean the one you plan to get with child and then leave in London?” Alexander asked with obvious disapproval.

  “Someone like Clara Humphries would not do well in the country. I will visit seasonally and make sure to keep her with child. I am sure that when I do spend time with her, I will not be bored.”

  “You make it sound so romantic and perfect. Life, my friend, cannot possibly be planned so...stringently. What if your wife were to take a lover? Long absences could make for distance between two people and resentment.”

  William scoffed. “I disagree. She will be cared for, provided for. She will have freedom to entertain and attend any social gathering she wishes. Besides, there will be an allotted amount of money for shopping and the ability to do all the things women like to do.” He took a sip from his coffee. “If you ask me, most women would be delighted at the prospect.”

  Shaking his head, Alexander let out a bark of laughter that garnered the attention of customers at nearby tables. He leaned forward. “This will be a most entertaining season.”

  Just as William was about to head up the stairs to bed, Charles appeared. “My Lord, a messenger dropped this off for you.”

  The envelope was crumpled, the ink on the front smeared. Whoever delivered it did not take care of it. He looked to the door. “Who brought it?”

  “A street urchin. Obviously paid for bringing it. The boy could give me no name of who gave it to him.”

  The familiar handwriting made him cringe. A mistake from his past came back to haunt him and he decided the best course of action was to ignore the invitation.

  Chapter Six

  The dreariness of the day seemed to seep into Clara. She couldn’t shake a feeling of foreboding and it worried her. Not one to believe in such nonsense, Clara expected it was a melancho
ly of sorts although there was absolutely no reason for it.

  She leaned back in the chaise and looked out the window to the garden. There, in the center, the fountain had remained dry as the servants had emptied it and scrubbed it clean.

  Across the room at the secretary was Vivian. Quill in hand, she was hunched over parchment writing out invitations for a small tea they planned the following week. Her sister’s steady hand moved across the paper, the scratching of the quill the only sound in the room.

  “How many are we inviting?” Clara asked, studying the top of Vivian’s head. “I hope Glenda comes. We haven’t seen her in ages,” she said, referring to a cousin that lived just outside London.

  Vivian looked up, her eyes bright. “Mother said to invite only ten. I’m inviting fifteen.” In her sister’s mind, she was being rebellious.

  Clara smiled indulgently in return. “How devilish of you. If all turn up, Mother will be in a tizzy.”

  They giggled.

  The youngest sister entered and plopped most unceremoniously across a settee. “This is the most dreadfully boring day. I don’t wish to study anymore and the thought of sewing or reading makes me want to cry.” Adding dramatic flair, she pressed the back of one hand across her forehead. “I am in desperate need of rescue.”

  “It’s raining, so we can’t go for a walk,” Clara told her sister. “Even a turn in the garden with cloaks on is out of the question.”

  The sound of knocks at the front door made the three sisters look up with expectancy as Gerard walked past the doorway to the entrance. There was an exchange of male voices, one being Gerard, and then the door was closed.

  Penelope flew to the doorway. “Who was that? What did he want?”

  Used to her curiosity, Gerard waited until Penelope tapped her foot with impatience. “Well?”

  “The note is addressed to your mother.”

  Before he could take another step, Penelope pinched it from his hand and raced to find their mother.

  Clara and Vivian exchanged looks. Then, curiosity getting the best of them, they, too, got up and followed after Penelope.

  Their mother looked up as Penelope hurried forth holding a note as if it were a missive from King George himself.

  “You must open it immediately, Mother. I am so bored, I am about to cry. I am hoping we are invited out to visit someone today.” Penelope slapped the note against her mother’s chest. “Hurry.”

  Sarah Humphries was overseeing the decorating of the parlor. Two servants stood holding greenery beside the large hearth. “You could be in here helping,” she replied to her youngest daughter. “There is much to do and not enough time.”

  With slow movements, she held up the note and then looked to the servants. “Place that across the hearth and then I’ll help add the dry fruit.”

  “Mother,” Penelope started, but stopped when their mother gave her an impatient look.

  Sarah went to a side table to stand beside a lamp. Then with a letter opener, she opened the envelope. As she read, her eyebrows rose until they almost disappeared under a side sweep of hair.

  “My goodness.”

  “What?” all three sisters asked at the same time.

  “Is it bad news?” Vivian asked.

  “Who is it from?” Clara inquired next.

  “Tell us already,” Penelope snapped.

  Their mother’s lips curved up and she let out a long breath. “The viscount, his parents and Mr. Yarnsby are inquiring if we’d accept a visit.” She waited for the full effect to sink in.

  Gerard was at the door. “The messenger awaits your reply, Mrs. Humphries.”

  All four of them turned to the butler. Unsure what to do, he remained as still as a statue.

  Their mother was the first to recover. “Yes, by all means.” She hurried to the library where the girls had been with them on her heels. “I’ll be but a moment.”

  At the secretary, she took one of the tea invitations and quickly penned a reply. She spoke as she wrote, knowing her nosy daughters would pester her to death about it. “It is an honor and we are delighted to invite you for dinner tonight. Six o’clock. Sarah Humphries.”

  As Gerard walked away with the response, the girls grinned at each other as if they’d accomplished the most triumphant of things.

  “Vivian, which of the two do you think will be asking for your hand?” Penelope practically swayed in delight. “You can be a viscount’s wife.” She danced around in a circle. “How positively romantic.”

  Their oldest sister frowned. “I barely spoke to either of the men.”

  Clara frowned. “The viscount’s parents must have just arrived. It’s very strange that they wish to come to visit so soon. I would say it does mean a marriage proposal.” Her stomach tightened at the thought of her dark prince marrying Vivian. However, she understood. Vivian was the eldest and prettiest. At all social events, men could not keep their eyes from her beautiful sister.

  The fact that William would join the family shouldn’t be so hard to bear, Clara told herself. He didn’t live in London. In fact, according to what she’d heard, he rarely joined his family during the holidays. Vivian and he would move away to wherever his country estate was. It was possible Clara would only see him but once or twice a year at the most. That would make it easier. Surely, the sadness that overtook her would abate by then.

  It was pure folly that she could claim to feel so strongly about a man she’d only spoken to three times. And there was the kiss, the most wonderful kiss of her life.

  Their mother interrupted her musings. “There is much to do. Penelope, oversee the decorating of the parlor and ensure the library is decorated as well. Also, ensure that fresh greenery is placed in vases.”

  Sarah whirled to the eldest. “Vivian, pick out the best of china and glassware. I will help you in ensuring to every detail of the dinner settings are just right.”

  She hesitated in thought. “Clara, choose gowns for yourself and your sisters. The dresses will need to be pressed and without any stains or tears whatsoever. Also, air out the parlor and make sure it is prepared for welcoming our guests.”

  The matriarch hurried toward the kitchen. “I’ll speak to Mrs. Tattersworth about supper. We only have five hours, so everyone please stay on task.” When she said the last words, she gave Penelope a pointed look.

  “Yes, Mother,” the youngest replied. Clara and Vivian were already rushing away to do what they’d been assigned.

  * * *

  At half-past four, their father walked in and was immediately dispatched by his wife to bathe quickly and change into dinner attire. The poor man sputtered that he was hungry and wanted a small repast or wouldn’t make it until dinner, but his request was promptly ignored.

  Of course, Clara could not stand the idea of her father being hungry, so she sent Molly to take tea and a few biscuits to his room.

  An hour later, Clara, Vivian and Penelope sat in the parlor pretending to read while sneaking peeks either to the front door or the window. Meanwhile, their mother raced about fretting over every detail.

  “We really should help. By the time our visitors arrive, she will be rendered unconscious from all this,” Clara said.

  “It will only annoy her for us not to do as she’d asked,” Vivian replied, stretching her neck in an attempt to catch sight of Sarah, who walked by.

  Penelope stood and went to the doorway. “I don’t understand why Clara and I have to sit here like dolls on display when we know the only one they should be interested in is you, Vivian.”

  There was a light pang in her stomach, but Clara did her best to ignore it. Of course, the visit was all about Vivian. How could it not be? Her sweet and beautiful sister deserved a great match.

  Finally, there was a commotion at the front door. Her parents hurried by and their mother motioned for them to line up beside them.

  Gerard waited an appropriate amount of time and opened the front door wide.

  There stood Viscount William Torrin
gton, dressed all in black with a thick overcoat. Just behind him was a couple who looked to be his parents and just behind them was Alexander Yarnsby.

  “Good evening My Lord.” Gerard bowed slightly at the waist and motioned to her parents.

  “Please, come in out of the cold,” Sarah exclaimed. “We are so delighted by your visit.”

  The Torrington family entered. William had yet to do more than nod his head. Once they stepped inside and the door was closed behind them, he began introductions.

  Clara’s head swam the entire time. His father, William Delbert Torrington, an actual duke, was in her home. Lady Torrington was lovely, her bright gaze was warm when meeting hers.

  Ushered into the large parlor by Gerard, everyone settled into chairs and were served brandy or tea.

  Immediately, Lady Torrington began to speak. “We are grateful to be welcomed into your home on such short notice. My son was most anxious for us to meet your beautiful daughters.”

  Clara’s mother looked to Vivian first and then to her and Penelope. “How delightful. We so enjoyed meeting you at the Barrows’ dinner,” she said to William.

  His dark gaze met hers for an instant. “As did I. I echo my mother’s statement. You are most gracious to invite us.”

  Lady Torrington explained how William and Alexander were childhood friends and how they’d come to feel that Alexander was like a second son. Most of the conversation took place between the mothers, while the duke and her father looked on. Alexander Yarnsby seemed bored and William was, as usual, solemn.

  “Darling, why don’t you see if all is well in the kitchen?” her mother said, looking at Penelope. Seeming grateful for the reprieve, Penelope practically jumped to her feet and dashed from the room.

  “There is obviously a reason for our visit,” the duke spoke to the group. “It seems my son is smitten.”

  William scowled and let out a breath and Clara couldn’t help a soft giggle. That brought him to direct a glare in her direction.