To Wed A Viscount (16 page)

As they drew near, Faith could see that one of the horsemen was her husband. He sat tall and commanding on a handsome black mare, slightly ahead of the other rider, who sat stiffly upright on a fine gray gelding.

The second rider was smaller in stature, and as they traversed the hill Faith noted one more important detail. This rider rode sidesaddle. Harriet. Faith's heart plummeted.

She quickly began pulling on the boat, bringing Georgie to the shore. But the child had finally mastered the art of rowing, in his own way, and worked against her efforts with jabbing, choppy strokes. The splashing water soon had the front of her gown rather damp and Georgie's hair soaked.

“What the devil are the two of you doing out here?” Griffin demanded to know, edging his mount closer.

“Enjoying the morning sunshine,” Faith replied with a forced smile. “ 'Tis a lovely day.”

“Why is the child sitting in that rickety old boat?” Harriet asked as she joined her brother. Her eyes suddenly widened in horror. “Don't say he is going to row it across the pond?”

“Certainly not,” Faith contested. She tilted her chin in hopes of looking more in control of the situation. “Georgie merely wanted to sit inside the rowboat. I saw no harm, since it is safely at the shore, and I have a firm grip on the rope.”

Faith lifted her arm to give credence to her story, yet the pinched expression of dismay on Harriet's face revealed what the other woman clearly thought of the plan.

“We can all go for a ride!” Georgie exclaimed. “There is room in my boat for you, Papa, and Aunt Harriet, too.”

“Perhaps another time. Please get out of the boat, son.”

The little boy's crestfallen face cut straight to Faith's heart. She stepped forward to help him out of the craft and whispered, “Chin up, Georgie. We shall have another adventure out here tomorrow. I promise.”

He gave her a brave, watery smile.

“Goodness, what has happened to his clothes?” Harriet asked. “They are so wet and dirty. He looks like a common village urchin.”

Faith took immediate exception to her tone and words. “He looks like a happy, healthy little boy who has been playing hard and having fun. Though I suppose that is a rather foreign notion to you,
dear sister.
Fun.”

Harriet drew herself tall in the saddle and glared down at Faith. “I would expect that only a woman who has been petted, spoiled, and indulged all her life would not understand even the basic elements of responsibilities. Life,
dear sister,
is not always about having fun.”

Faith didn't dignify that with a response, and Harriet continued in the same scolding tone.

“The child must learn, even at this young age, what is proper behavior for a nobleman. Unruly, ramshackle little boys grow into unmanageable, incorrigible men. It would be intolerable if such a thing happened to this child.”

“He is none of those things!” Faith put her arms protectively around Georgie's shoulders. “Say what you will about me, Harriet, but I'll not have you criticizing the boy,” she said in a low, forceful tone, defending the child with all the fervor of a lioness with a threatened cub.

“I am not finding fault with my nephew. The child is blameless in this incident. 'Tis the adult who is responsible, or rather irresponsible, in this matter.”

Faith's back stiffened. She opened her mouth to deliver a most blistering retort, then caught a glimpse of Georgie's open face. Though not understanding the nuances of the discussion, it was obvious to the child that she and Harriet were quarreling. And Faith saw that upset him.

She put her hand to her temple to still the thumping in her head. “Papa is right. We've had enough adventuring for one day. Come along Georgie; 'tis time to go home.”

“You cannot expect the child to walk back in wet clothes,” Harriet bristled. “He'll catch a chill.”

“ 'Tis a warm day, and the sun will dry him quickly,” Faith insisted, not bothering to point out that she was probably as wet, if not wetter, than the child. “The walk will be good for him.”

“It will not.”

Faith raised her eyes to Griffin, silently seeking his assistance, and noted that Harriet had also turned to her brother with an expectant expression. The viscount suddenly busied himself with the reins of his mount, concentrating on keeping the horse steady. Faith grimaced, realizing he was expending far more energy on this simple task than was necessary.

“Fine. He shall ride home.” Faith picked up the child and moved beside Griffin's horse.

“No, he will ride with me.” Harriet nudged the gray in front of her brother's horse. “Griffin has estate business to attend to. I must take Georgie to the nursery and remove his wet clothes immediately. Then a hot bath and right to bed for a rest. It will be a miracle if he doesn't have a horrible cold by nightfall.”

The leather saddle groaned as Harriet adjusted her seat. “Griffin, please hoist him up here.”

With a skeptical eye, the viscount dismounted, then lifted the child onto the horse. Faith kept her chin lowered to hide the growing anger in her eyes. Seeing that would only let Harriet know her actions were succeeding in upsetting Faith.

“I want to ride with Papa,” Georgie declared solemnly.

“Papa has tenants to visit,” Harriet replied. “He is not returning to the house immediately. I am.”

“Oh.” The child bowed his head low.

“You look most regal sitting upon that horse, Master Georgie,” Faith said. “I think soon you will be ready for your own mount.”

The boy nodded solemnly. It was far from the enthusiastic response Faith was hoping to achieve.

“I shall need help guiding my horse back to the stables.” Harriet tugged on the cuff of her riding glove. “Would you like to hold the reins and assist me, Georgie?”

Georgie's chin was up like a shot. “Yes!”

“Yes, what,” Harriet and Faith said simultaneously. Georgie's eyes widened. He glanced first at Faith, then turned his head and looked at Harriet. Then he giggled.
“Yes, please.”

“We're off.” Harriet touched the brim of her hat with her riding crop in a quick salute. “I'll see you both at dinner.”

“ 'Bye.” Georgie waved merrily with his free hand.

Faith wagged her fingers in reply.

“Irrational, headstrong woman,” Griffin muttered under his breath as the horse galloped away.

Faith shifted her attention to her husband. “Perhaps in time Harriet might learn to control some of those more annoying tendencies,” she said primly. “One can only hope.”

“I was referring to you.”

“Oh.” Faith kicked a small stone with the toe of her slipper and walked to the pond. She bent low and retrieved Georgie's toy, gently smoothing the cloth sails.

“You were going to take him out in that rowboat, weren't you?”

Faith sighed. “I was going to allow him to sit in the boat while it rested at the very edge of the pond. He was determined to row it himself, and I knew he could never get more than a foot or two away from the shore. The rope tied to the end of the boat was new and sturdy. I wrapped it several times around my arm to secure it. There was never any danger.”

“Harriet didn't seem to agree on that point.”

Faith rolled her eyes expressively. “Harriet would not agree with me if I said the sky was blue and the grass green.”

Griffin surprised Faith by laughing. “Yes, I believe Harriet would insist the opposite were true.” He studied Faith for a long time. “I know she can be difficult, but you really must determine a way to somehow get along with her.”

Faith's chin rose. “Strange, I would think that Harriet needed to devise a way to stay in my good graces. After all, this is my home.”

“She is my sister,” Griffin replied simply, glancing away.

“How well I know that,” Faith muttered beneath her breath, needing no further reminders of where Griffin's loyalties lay. Certainly not with his wife.

The silence between them grew, pressing down upon them. The lead on Griffin's horse allowed the creature to amble forward and take a drink from the pond. The viscount followed behind the black mare and waited. Faith listened to the quiet lapping for several moments, then finally turned to face her husband.

The afternoon sunlight illuminated the left side of his face, highlighting his strong, handsome profile. As always, his male beauty took her breath away. Secretly, she longed to reach out and touch his cheek, run her fingers along the strong line of his jaw. But she did not dare.

The physical, as well as emotional distance between them was clearly defined.

“It would make life easier for everyone in the household, including yourself, if you and Harriet would get along,” Griffin stated firmly. “I fear that soon this verbal sparring will reach a physical level, and I shall find myself in the unenviable position of pulling you apart like two brawling kittens.”

“What a lovely picture you envision, my lord.”

“Not far from the truth, I fear.” He turned, and she stared at his face, noting the tightening of the muscles around his mouth. “I'm serious, Faith. You quarrel over everything to do with the boy. I cannot split the child in half.”

“I know full well which end I would receive if you could.” Faith glared at him. “ 'Twould not be the part that I kiss good night each evening.”

“Am I truly so unfair?”

“Yes.” Yet even as she spoke the word, Faith knew it was not entirely true. Griffin had on the rare occasion taken her side in the argument. “If one were keeping a tally, then Harriet would have far more marks than I.”

He drew in a deep breath, then released it. “Perhaps if you made this less of a competition, the final outcome would not be of such great significance.”

“Harriet and I do not just disagree on the small matters when it comes to Georgie,” Faith retorted. “We have a fundamental difference of opinion on how the boy should be raised. Harriet seems convinced that my ideas are a haphazard way to bring up a child. And I cannot abide the rigid routine that she insists upon.

“He is a little boy, not a soldier in Wellington's army. She has ordered his life so completely there are times when I believe she has even scheduled the times when he is to go to the privy.”

Griffin laughed and shook his head. Encouraged, Faith continued. “Georgie cannot have two different women responsible for his welfare. And while I appreciate Harriet's position in the household, she is still his aunt. I, on the other hand, am his mother.”

“His stepmother,” Griffin corrected solemnly. “What becomes of the boy if our marriage fails? If you return to live at Mayfair Manor, who will then be the woman responsible for his welfare?”

It was a reasonable question. They had been married only a week and were holding most precariously to a relationship that was filled with hurt and mistrust.

But Faith was not about to give up. How could she possibly explain to Griffin how much this small child had come to mean to her? Georgie gave her purpose in this rambling castle that was so unwelcoming to a bride and a new mistress.

He ended the desolation she felt, filled up her barren days, challenging her to reach out to life and grab it, instead of letting it merely slip away. She would fight with every ounce of strength to hold on to this special relationship.

Faith made an effort to banish the hurt that Griffin's doubts had brought to her eyes. “I am not prepared to give up so quickly on our future life together, Griffin. Perhaps Georgie will provide the means for us to stay together.”

The viscount raised his brow skeptically. “ 'Tis a great burden to place on such a young child.”

Faith smiled brightly, trying not to focus on how dispirited he sounded. “You are forgetting one very important fact, my lord. Georgie is no ordinary boy. He is his father's son.”

Being an early riser, Griffin usually ate his morning meal alone. He preferred to dine in the informal breakfast room, for it was one of the few rooms within the house that was in need of little repair. The cherry-wood furniture was always polished to a high gloss; the patterned wallpaper of flowers and fruit was still bright and cheerful.

There were no water stains marring the ceiling plasterwork and the sheer white draperies were neither torn nor musty smelling. Though he had few memories of his mother, Griffin distinctly remembered that this was one of her favorite rooms.

Over the course of his weeks in residence, he decided that he was glad no one had bothered to redecorate it, for it provided a fond link to his past.

He hurried in to eat his breakfast in his usual morning rush, but pulled up short when he discovered the room already occupied. Both his wife and sister were seated at the table, each silently contemplating the contents of their plates.

“Faith, Harriet, good morning.”

“Good morning, Griffin,” they chorused like a pair of obedient schoolgirls.

The viscount raised his brow cynically and took his seat, trying all the while to disregard the presence of the two females. He braced himself, waiting with dread for the venomous looks to begin, the veiled accusations and heated jibes to be flung between the two women.

Griffin's manner grew guarded as he tried to think of a neutral topic of conversation to introduce. And then he realized, with a good deal of amazement, that the room remained quiet, save for the clinking of silverware and the gentle rustle of linen napkins.

It was probably the first time in his four-week-old marriage that he had been in a room with his wife and sister and they were not quarreling. Or bickering. Or complaining to him about each other.

For a minute Griffin was completely mystified. He nearly opened his mouth to comment upon this rather favorable turn of events, then thought better of it. Why tug on the lion's tail when he was sleeping?

A servant appeared before he could call for one.

“Would you care for your usual breakfast this morning, my lord?”

“Yes, and bring another pot of hot coffee.”

“I have more than enough to share,” Faith said. She lifted the silver coffeepot set by her side and poured the hot, dark liquid into a clean cup.

“I'm having chocolate this morning,” Harriet explained when Faith rose from her chair and carried the steaming cup to Griffin. “Would you care for a cup of that next?”

The viscount could only stare at his sister in astonishment. Fortunately, the footman's arrival saved him from answering. Griffin nodded approvingly as the servant lifted the lids off the silver chafing dishes, inspecting the contents as if he were amazed by what he found.

Once his plate was full, Griffin began eating, casting a subtle eye in the direction of the two women. He glanced from his wife, sitting forward and eager in her chair, to his sister, sitting straight-backed and closed.

Both women abandoned any pretense of eating and instead watched him keenly. He bit firmly into a piece of toasted bread and nearly choked on a crumb.

“Are you all right?” Faith asked with concern.

“Do you need some water?” Harriet chimed in. “Or ale?”

Through watery eyes, Griffin saw both women barreling toward him. “Stop,” he whispered, coughing and gasping for air. He waved a hand at them impatiently. “I have no need of assistance.”

Reluctantly, they backed away and resumed their seats. When he was recovered, Griffin eyed the pair suspiciously. They were like a set of vultures, waiting anxiously for their dying prey to take his final breath before swooping down to fight over the carcass.

What could possibly be the problem now? This obvious solicitous behavior toward him meant each woman was hoping to gain the advantage when presenting her side, and Griffin began to dread the upcoming altercation.

He acknowledged there had been a slight improvement in the relationship between the two women. They both appeared to be making an effort to get along, and were never openly hostile toward each other when there were others present, although Griffin strongly suspected they quarreled often and bitterly when he was not around to witness it.

And nothing could set the powder keg off quicker than a disagreement over young Georgie, for each woman was firmly convinced that she, and only she, had the child's best interest at heart.

In these four weeks of marriage, Griffin had come to form a pretty good notion of his wife's character, discovering she possessed one shared trait with his sister. Neither woman liked to be defeated.

“All right, out with it.” Griffin pushed back his chair and scowled down the table at the anxious women. “What is the problem now? You are disturbing my digestion with all your solicitous behavior and attention this morning.”

“Harriet insists upon finding a tutor for Georgie,” Faith promptly replied. “I think it is ridiculous to even consider it at his young age. Perhaps in a few weeks I can begin searching for an appropriate governess who can teach him his letters and numbers.”

“He already knows them.” Harriet slapped her napkin on the table. “Georgie is not an ordinary little boy. He has a quick and inquisitive mind. It should be molded and challenged by a skillful teacher, not left to wither under the direction of a governess.”

“He is too young for a tutor,” Faith insisted. “He needs the gentle but firm guidance of a female. A governess. ”

“Important time is being wasted,” Harriet replied. “ 'Tis criminal to allow that to continue.”

“He is too young for such rigid schooling,” Faith repeated. “We have only just celebrated his fourth birthday.”

Both female heads turned in Griffin's direction. No words were needed requesting his intervention. He returned their eager stares, deliberately keeping his expression neutral.

“I confess, I have not thought overmuch about my son's education. However, I shall think long and hard on this matter and let you know my decision once I have reached it,” Griffin said, spreading his hands to emphasize that was the end of the discussion.

Miraculously, neither woman challenged his words. Harriet took a sip of her chocolate and Faith a quick bite of her toasted bread. Perhaps his forceful expression was at last making an impact on their behavior.

The viscount smiled at this fanciful notion. Both women were far too headstrong to be so easily controlled. He supposed each woman felt her position was so strong he would be easily won over to her side, so additional arguments were unnecessary.

Griffin forked in a bite of his cold eggs and suppressed a twinge of guilt. In this particular instance their difference of opinion was easy to understand. His sister knew that Georgie was a by-blow, an illegitimate child who would need every advantage his father could give him to succeed as a man in this harsh, unjust world.

Yet his wife believed the boy was his heir and would someday inherit his title and possessions. She saw no need to start him so early in education, no need to exploit his natural abilities.

“The morning post has arrived, my lady.” With a deferential bow, the butler entered the room and swung a silver tray toward Faith.

She smiled with delight and lifted the packet of envelopes. Griffin noticed a slight tension begin to fill the air.

“Is there nothing for me?” Harriet inquired tensely.

“Not this morning,” Faith responded cheerfully. “It appears that all three letters are for me.”

Harriet let out a deep, sputtering sigh. Griffin wondered at her odd reaction. Since he had returned home there had not been any letters for his sister. Why should today be any different?

“Who is your correspondence from, Faith?” Griffin inquired. He refrained from extending his hand, even though it was well within a man's rights to read his wife's letters.

“Two are from Merry and one is a note from Lady Granville.”

He noticed Harriet gaze disapprovingly at Faith. Since his sister had never in his presence spoken a word against Lady Granville, he surmised it was the mention of Lady Meredith that put her off her mood.

“Lady Granville discusses the upcoming social events among our little ‘quaint local society' and hints broadly that since I am a new bride, I should be honored to host a harvest ball,” Faith continued.

Griffin waited for Harriet's retort, fully expecting her to balk at the expense. But she remained silent.

The footman entered carrying another covered dish. Griffin quickly abandoned his cold meal in favor of the fresh, hot fare. Since Faith was still busy with her letters, the servant next approached Harriet.

“Do you wish more eggs and kippers?” the butler asked, a first, second, then third time.

Griffin raised his head. Harriet was gazing off in the distance, her face a study in concentration. The footman stood by her chair, extending the covered chafing dish.

The servant repeated his question, and still Harriet did not respond.

“Harriet!” Griffin shouted.

“What?” She turned her head sharply.

“Rogers has asked you several times if you wish more breakfast.”

Her gaze faltered for the briefest of moments. “Sorry.” She blushed sharply and put a small portion of food on her dish.

Griffin stroked his chin, examining his sister thoughtfully. “Did you sleep well last evening, Harriet?”

“Yes, I slept fine,” she responded with a touch of impatience. “However, I find that I have just lost my appetite. Since I have no lengthy correspondence to read through, I shall go for a ride.”

She pushed back her chair and marched from the room.

“Harriet seems upset,” Griffin commented.

Faith glanced up from the letter she was diligently reading and shrugged. “I noticed no difference in her behavior.” She resumed reading her correspondence.

Griffin shook his head. “Apparently, she was expecting a letter. From whom, I wonder?”

“Her fiancé, I assume,” Faith replied absently. “I know of no other friends or acquaintances she corresponds with on a regular basis.”

“I was unaware that she had been receiving letters from her betrothed. She rarely speaks of him.”

“I suppose she doesn't have much to say.” Faith wrinkled her nose. “To my knowledge, she has not received any letters this past month, although she apparently writes to him daily.”

Griffin's chair was located at the head of the table, nearest the window. He glanced outside and caught a glimpse of Harriet walking slowly down the garden path. Her head was bowed, her shoulders hunched, her feet shuffling. If he didn't know better, Griffin would swear she was crying.

He saw her slip a hand up to grasp the gold locket she always wore around her neck. A gift from her neglectful fiancé? He had never inquired.

“Tell me about this man Harriet is supposed to marry. What is his name? Jonathan Winthrope?”

Faith slowly lowered her letter. “Harriet is engaged to marry
Julian Wingate.
He has no title, but is a direct descendant, on his mother's side, of the duke of Shrewsbury and part of the Dorrington family. They are, as you are no doubt aware, most highly respected and admired members of society.”

“I don't care about his family,” Griffin replied impatiently. “Tell me about the man.”

“I've never met him,” Faith said hesitantly. She brushed a stray crumb off one of her letters. “There have been all sorts of stories circulated about him, but I hardly think it fair that I repeat such gossip.”

Griffin's mouth thinned. Faith showing a loyal, almost protective attitude toward Harriet?

“Is this Wingate fellow really that bad?”

Faith's eyes touched him, then glanced away She cleared her throat. “The tales that have been repeated in my hearing paint Mr. Wingate in a most unflattering light, portraying him as something of a rake, a man given solely to his own pleasures.” Faith paused, inclining her head. “Actually, his unsavory reputation is not unlike your own. That is, before you reformed your wicked ways and became a respectable married man. ”

“And a viscount,” Griffin added with a smirk. “Let us not forget my noble title. Wingate may come from a noble background, yet he lacks a title. That could be his main problem. Becoming a viscount has made all the difference in the eyes of many in society and this community.”

“It has, my lord. 'Tis also the sole reason I married you,” Faith responded promptly. With a wrinkled brow and pursed lips, she lifted her china cup and took a delicate sip of the hot liquid. “To become a viscountess.”

Despite her pinched expression, Faith's voice was light and humorous. Griffin had difficulty controlling his bark of laughter.

“You sold yourself short, my dear,” he said with a grin. “If you had waited a bit longer, you might have landed an earl. Or even a duke.”

Faith burst out laughing. “The only way I could have caught a duke for a husband is if he were a very slow runner and I possessed a very large net.”

Almost against his will, Griffin found himself joining her merriment. He marveled anew at how his vast experience with women gave him no advantage when dealing with his wife. He was as puzzled by her as ever. She could laugh at herself, joking so openly with him about catching a husband, despite the wall that firmly existed between them because of her duplicity surrounding the circumstances of their own marriage.

Griffin searched for the anger that always consumed him when he allowed himself to dwell on Faith's lies, but it did not come as quickly or strongly. Was he finally starting to forgive her, in his heart as well as his mind?