Return of the Viscount (19 page)

Chapter 17

W
hen Michael returned to his bedroom, he stared at the envelope, seeing his mother's slightly messy penmanship, and reluctantly smiled. Cecilia hadn't informed him that she wished to contact his family—and he couldn't be surprised. She'd been looking for any kind of buffer to keep between them—hell, even after the previous night, she was
still
desperate to keep him away from her. There was nothing of proper manners about her letter to his mother and the way she'd gone about it.

Cecilia was afraid, and not just because someone wished her ill. She was afraid of their marriage, of the feelings that overwhelmed even him. There was a part of him that would give up anything for her, even what made him the man he was. And that wasn't the way to keep his self-respect, or win hers.

She didn't want to depend on him, but danger forced her to. And now they'd lain together. She must have been thrilled that his mother's letter distracted him.

He wouldn't be distracted for long. Ripping open the letter, he read the brief note, sighed, and rang the bell for one of his apprentice valets. As if they'd been waiting for his signal, the bath procession began. He studied the pages surreptitiously, but they completed their task with deference. What had he expected—that he might catch an evil grin?

When he was dressed, a knock sounded at the dressing-room door.

“Come in,” he called.

Cecilia opened the door, and if she felt at all guilty, her graceful movements didn't betray any hesitation. She glided into the room, and although she was fully buttoned up to a high neckline, he could still recall her lush nakedness as she'd lain beneath him. He was hard in an instant, and it was difficult to collect his thoughts, to remember that he was waging a war for his future, and every small battle counted. Somehow, he would make her change her mind about India.

“I came to apologize.” She met his gaze forthrightly. “It was wrong of me to send the letter, but at the time, I felt my actions appropriate.”

“Because I could have been a suspect.”

“I truly knew you weren't.” She pressed her lips together in a thin line.

“I accept your apology.”

She blinked in surprise, then with a nod, turned away as if to leave.

“And you feel no curiosity at all?” he called in bemusement.

She froze, then said over her shoulder, “Of course I feel curious, but I would never demand that you share a private letter.”

He could almost see the war within her, by her tight shoulders and her fisted hands. But her curiosity won out, and she turned back to regard him.

“Is your mother well?” she asked.

He nodded. “And eager to see us both. She and my brother expected to be leaving at dawn. I imagine they'll arrive by luncheon today.”

Her eyes went wide. “Oh my! I'll alert the servants, of course, but . . . is their visit all right with you?”

“I love my family, and I'm eager to see them.”

She let out her breath, and he couldn't help but be amused how on one hand she wanted to keep her distance, but on the other, she didn't want to offend him. She was trying to be a good girl at all times, perhaps most especially since she'd done something last night that probably seemed wicked to her virginal self.

“But what you did not anticipate,” he continued ruefully, “is that I hadn't told my family of our marriage.”

She blinked, then smiled faintly. “I cannot be surprised. We hadn't even met, and perhaps you thought we might never be truly married.”

“I never thought that even once—unlike you.”

“Then why would you keep that from them? They might have heard through common acquaintances.”

“As I've mentioned before, they do not socialize in the same circles you do. They never go to London at all.” He hesitated. “Frankly, I thought the news best delivered in person, so they could understand why I would enter into such a . . . contract.”

“They would expect that I bring a dowry to the family,” she answered flatly.

“Not at all. My father and grandfather were fortune hunters, Cecilia. I vowed to finance our family through my own efforts, and if I married at all, it would not be for money. But, of course, now it looks like I did exactly what I swore I never would—married a wealthy heiress, sight unseen.”

“You'll explain things to them.” She lowered her gaze, her cheeks flushed. “I'm surprised to find that I feel guilty for not granting you the dowry every man should have when he marries.”

He strode to her, unable to keep himself from cupping her face and lifting it until their gazes met. “You didn't buy me, Cecilia, and that's important to me. Our marriage arrangement suited us both, and my family will understand.”

He couldn't help himself—he leaned down to kiss her. He wasn't surprised when she ducked away.

“The sun is up, Michael,” she said primly.

He smiled. “And you think a husband and wife should not touch each other in the light of day?”

“I have so many things to do to prepare the Hall for the arrival of your family. I will be glad to meet them, and I won't embarrass you.”

He stared at her. “Embarrass me? You could never do that, my sweet.”

She flinched from his endearment, but he wouldn't stop using it. She could try to keep her distance, but he didn't plan to allow that. However long they had together, he would make the most of it. If he could win her over, perhaps they could have some sort of married life.

“I should go talk to Mrs. Ellison,” she said.

“No, we have our own plans to make.”

“Then come into my room, where breakfast is probably getting cold waiting for us. We'll ring for a servant.”

They passed the news of guests to Mrs. Ellison, then sat down at the small table in Cecilia's room to a meal of lobster and ham, eggs, and hot rolls. Michael was ravenous, but he noticed that Cecilia picked at her food.

“I hope this disinterest isn't worry about my mother,” he said. “She's going to think you're wonderful.”

“I'm glad,” she answered softly. “I don't wish to make things more difficult for you than I already have.”

“You mean by thinking I'd try to murder you?” He smiled at her.

She didn't smile back. “I saw you interrogating my former suitors last night. Did you learn anything?”

“I don't think our villain is Carrington or Nash. It would be simple to discover if Nash had returned secretly before yesterday. Too many people talk. And Carrington is obsessed with a young lady he's been pursuing for nigh on a year.”

“Oh.” The worry lines in her forehead eased with relief. “That is good to hear.”

“Not that I appreciated how they all flocked around you like gulls,” he added darkly.

Her blue eyes sparkled. “According to you, they're harmless.”

“Well, revenge because a woman didn't marry you is a poor motive for murder unless you're insane. They don't seem insane. As for other neighbors, unless you've specifically harmed anyone or his reputation . . .” He let that drag out.

Wide-eyed, she insisted, “Of course not! I am fond of all my neighbors, and they always seem fond of me.”

“And if it weren't true, your servants would know from other servants. Both Talbot and Mrs. Ellison insist they've heard nothing disquieting. As for Lord Doddridge, he is leaving this morning, so I suggest we examine the account books after he's gone, looking for any irregularities.”

She stiffened. “I go over those books every day. I would see any
irregularities.
”

“I know, but he is Appertan's guardian for the moment, and we don't know what agreement they might have negotiated that you know nothing about.”

She blanched but didn't protest. He realized she'd considered that even though she didn't want to believe the worst of her brother.

“As for Appertan,” he began.

“No.” She pushed back her chair and threw down her napkin. “Don't you dare say you believe my own brother would try to harm me.”

“Drink does terrible things to people,” he said quietly. “I have seen it ruin a good man more than once.”

“Not Oliver!” she cried.

He could see her eyes swimming in tears, and the hurt cut him unexpectedly deep. “Until we can definitely rule him out, Cecilia, it makes sense to be wary.”

“I'm ruling him out! You promised to help him—is this your way of neglecting that promise?”

“Of course not. I was going to suggest that after Doddridge leaves, you invite Appertan to look over the books with us and discuss investment strategies.”

“That is a good idea,” she said stiffly.

“You can tell him about our guests as well, so he's not surprised.”

“You mean surprised when he's expected to remain home this evening and entertain?”

Michael raised both hands. “That is your decision, not mine.” He wanted to keep the mood light between them, especially since his family was coming, but he could not sit back while she ignored the danger her brother might be putting her in. “Cecilia, sometimes I think you blame yourself for your brother's selfish behavior, and that's a mistake.”

Her eyes flashed at him.

“He's an adult, who must take responsibility for his own behavior.”

“His twin brother died!” she cried softly. “That would hurt anyone.”

“Ten years ago, Cecilia,” he pointed out.

“You don't get over something like that.” A tear slid from her eye, and she impatiently brushed it away. “I've never gotten over it.”

“But you became successful, regardless.”

“But it was my fault, Michael!” she cried. “Gabriel was under my care, and I didn't see the crocodile! I was reading, for God's sake, absorbed in what I wanted to do, not the responsibilities my parents had asked of me.”

“If you blame your thirteen-year-old self, then you must really blame Gabriel for saving you.”

She bit her lip, and more tears fell.

“You would have saved him in a heartbeat. He simply beat you to it. Deep inside, Appertan knows he's failing his brother's memory. But he doesn't seem to care. You can't blame yourself.”

“Even if you say I didn't fail Gabriel,” she said slowly, “I still feel that way. And I won't fail Oliver. You're wrong about him.”

“Then begin to let go of the reins you've attached to him. I challenge you to spend a day like a normal young lady instead of an earl. Let me walk Appertan through his duties.”

Still, she hesitated, and he ached for the torment she inflicted on herself, the guilt she should not be feeling. She'd done nothing wrong—whereas he himself had made terrible decisions in his own life, and men had suffered and died. The pang of sorrow took him by surprise, and he put it away until the night, when the dreams would come to him.

“I don't believe that's a good idea,” she said at last. “Your mother will be arriving.”

“Not today, then. When they've gone.”

“That could be at least a week.”

“No, you don't know my mother. She'll want us to be alone with each other.”

She rolled her eyes.

“You don't believe in a honeymoon? Technically, we're on ours. Finding a person attempting to murder you is not what one would consider a honeymoon adventure.” He lowered his voice. “Let Appertan run his own estates for a day. You want him to be a good man, a good husband to Miss Webster, don't you?”

“Of course I do,” she insisted.

“Appertan reminds me of my father and grandfather, who squandered their estates and money. I wish someone would have helped them before it was too late. Let's help your brother.”

“I know you're right,” she said in a quiet voice. “But it's difficult for me to abandon the lands and people I love. But . . . my father entrusted Oliver to me. I can't let either of them down. Very well, I'll do as you wish and give Oliver a day.”

Just a day, Michael thought, watching as she relaxed enough to finally eat breakfast. He was surprised how difficult it was for her to give up even that one day of control. He suddenly realized it would take her a long time to give up overseeing her brother, even once Appertan had taken over his duties. He would spend their marriage trying to persuade her to join him in India, and the time would never be right.

C
ecilia walked Lord Doddridge to the portico midmorning to see him on his way. More than once, he'd said how glad he was that she was unscathed, and he seemed sincere enough. But she was finding it difficult to trust anyone lately, and she wondered if she'd ever be able to feel normal again. What if they never found the person responsible for these “accidents”? Would she have to live in fear for the rest of her life?

Michael waited at the door, watching her, she knew. And she was grateful. He escorted her to the study, where Oliver waited, arms folded across his chest as he glowered at them both. Cecilia talked about the account books, and what Lord Doddridge had been looking at. Though Oliver said little, at least he appeared to be listening, even occasionally nodding. Then Cecilia and Michael discussed the earldom's investments, from mines to shipping to railways, and once or twice, Oliver asked a question. He tried to balk when she said he would be assuming her duties for a day, but it was Michael who pointed out that a steward could cheat an ignorant peer, and Oliver had to know what was involved, even if he wasn't the one who oversaw everything every day. At last, he acquiesced.

When Talbot announced the arrival of Michael's family, even Oliver looked intrigued enough to follow them to the entrance hall.

Cecilia stood back as the Dowager Lady Blackthorne and her son entered Appertan Hall. Both had dark brown hair like Michael's, but Lady Blackthorne's was threaded with silver, which, along with the confident way she carried herself, made her look distinguished rather than old. It was very obvious her beauty had once captured the interest of many a man. Her younger son seemed to be a more genial version of Michael, a bit shorter, lighter of frame, with eyes that crinkled when he smiled, and it seemed as if he smiled often.