Authors: Adrienne Basso
To Wed A Viscount (22 page)
“Look at all the worms I've found.” Georgie appeared suddenly by Faith's side, carrying his bucket in both hands. “I must have hundreds!”
With a grunt, the child lifted the bucket for their inspection. They dutifully glanced inside, their heads nearly touching in the process.
Griffin cleared his throat. “An excellent start, son.”
Georgie set the bucket on the ground, crouched low, and studied the contents. “I like the big ones best.” He picked up a twig and carefully nudged apart a pair of worms. “But I need more. I want to catch lots and lots of fish today.” With a look of unmistakable determination the boy ran to the edge of the water to resume his digging.
Griffin smiled. “I believe that Georgie enjoys digging up the worms far more than the actual fishing.”
Faith returned the smile, then turned to watch the child. “What boy wouldn't? You must stay still and quiet to catch a fish, a difficult challenge for our energetic youngster. Besides, acquiring bait is probably the only permissible excuse for mucking about in the mud and getting completely filthy.”
“Judging by the condition of his clothes most days, I can see that mud possesses a certain amount of charm,” Griffin commented.
He offered Faith his arm, and they strolled to a shady spot. Once there, Faith gratefully lowered herself to the grass and settled her back against the trunk of a tree. Her eyes darted constantly toward Georgie as he knelt in the mud on the banks of the lake, his small hands gleefully flinging clumps of dirt in the air.
Truthfully, she wasn't exactly certain what sort of assistance she could offer the little boy if he plunged into the water, since she was unable to swim a stroke, but her eyes never left him.
After a moment's hesitation, Griffin stretched out beside her. Though Faith's eyes never strayed from the child, all of her other senses were very much aware of the man now lying so intimately close.
“Georgie does have a talent for finding dirt, no matter where he is or what he is doing,” he remarked with an indulgent trace of pride in his voice.
“A trait he shares with his illustrious father,” Faith declared.
“I beg your pardon.” Griffin's eyes swung back toward her.
Faith reached out and ran her hand back and forth over the top of the grass. “Oh, come now, Griffin, you must be honest with yourself. When we were children you spent half your time in the dirt and the other half running away from your nurse to avoid your bath.”
“Compared to you, I suppose I was quite a sight. You would throw a fit if you got even a speck of dirt on your clothes.”
Faith's hand stopped. “Was I really such a prissy little girl?”
Griffin rolled his eyes. “You were impossible. Always demanding to be included in our games and complaining mightily if you were defeated or could not keep up. And you cried anytime your hands or face or dress became dirty.”
“I was not that bad.”
“You were. Thankfully, you have managed to change. A bit.” His eyes lit with teasing humor. “However, you are as bossy as ever.”
“Griffin!” Faith pulled up a handful of grass and flung it at him. He nimbly rolled out of the way before any landed on his person.
“See, you are as spoiled as ever and unable to take any sort of criticism. Just like when we were children.”
Faith tried to school her features into an indignant expression, but instead she started giggling. “I suppose my father did on occasion indulge my girlish whims.”
“On occasion? He always did as you asked.” Griffin shook his head. “Neville and I often wondered what your secret was for getting your own way. I used to think it was because you were a girl, but Harriet could never get our father to even listen to her opinions, so I decided that couldn't be the reason.”
“I was an only child,” Faith said. “My parents had no one else on whom to focus their love and attention. I greedily got it all.”
“Your parents adored you, Faith,” Griffin said quietly. “I think we all felt a bit envious of that love and devotion.”
Faith drew up her knees and clasped her legs with her arms. “We were very fortunate children. All of us.”
Griffin nodded. “Ah, those were carefree days. Lord, it seems like a lifetime ago.” The viscount's face took on a wistful, indulgent expression that reminded Faith very much of his young son. “If I had known then that I would one day be responsible for all of this land and tenants and farms, I would have appreciated my freedom far more.”
Guilt snarled at Faith. Griffin's simple words were a stark reminder of the burdens he now carried. Of the responsibilities he had never expected to assume and the wife he had never thought to haveâher.
She sighed and rested one cheek on her updrawn knees. “ 'Tis not so awful to be an adult, is it?”
The viscount raised his head. She felt his eyes do a slow sweep of her person, lingering on her bosom. “Oh, there are a few advantages.”
Faith's spine stiffened, and she felt her shoulders straighten. She tilted her head to gaze at him. That lazy, half-lidded grin told her exactly what he had on his mind. Seduction. The desire he felt was there in his face, in the fire that smoldered in his eyes. Faith nearly shivered at the delicious thought.
Ever since the harvest ball last month he had continued to share her bed each night. Since he rarely displayed any affection during daylight hours, that nightly intimate closeness was something Faith greedily coveted.
But Faith was ever mindful that they were not alone in this secluded romantic spot. Tipping her face to the sun, she closed her eyes and pretended to relax, hoping her amorous husband would take the hint and drop the subject.
He did not. Though she kept her eyes closed, her escalating senses told her he was moving closer. Her heart gave a little jump. She could feel a blush tingle up her throat and settle in her cheeks.
Then his fingers began idly tracing patterns in the palm of her bare hand. Faith gave a small gasp at his touch as pleasure curled deep within her.
He sat up and moved closer. She still refused to look at him, yet he was impossible to ignore or dismiss. With each breath she drew, Faith inhaled the alluring, masculine scent of him, and it stirred her passions anew.
The viscount leaned in, his breath tickling her ear. “I have always wondered what it would feel like to make love outdoors, by a lovely lake, in the cool autumn air with the sunshine warming my flesh. Are you not also curious, my dear?”
Faith's breath nearly stopped. The images that overtook her were mind numbing. His hard, hot body lying directly atop hers, skin to skin, joined intimately together.
“I imagine it would be most uncomfortable,” she managed to squeak out. “Lying on the hard ground, having one's shoulders pressed against the wet grass.”
“Ah, love, you wound me.” Griffin grasped her chin firmly and turned her head. She opened her eyes and he smiled seductively. “How dare you think me such a rough beast. I would never abuse your delicate skin in such a harsh fashion. No, it would be my back pressing against the hard earth, while you sat astride me, your legs draped across my waist.
“Or perhaps we would stand in the sunshine together, my lips caressing your neck as I snuggled closer, pressing your back against my chest. Whispering words of encouragement, I would urge you to brace your hands against the trunk of a tall oak tree and bend forward. Then slowly, gently, I would part your silken thighs and ease myself into your warmth.”
Faith's cheeks grew hot. More forbidden images crowded her mind, of them joined together in the fashion of mares and stallions. Free and natural, encouraged to be totally uninhibited by the beauty of their surroundings and their trust in each other.
“You seek to corrupt me, my lord,” she whispered.
“Have I succeeded?”
Yes,
she wanted to shout.
You need only look at me with desire and I melt.
she wanted to shout.
You need only look at me with desire and I melt.
Faith took a deep breath. “I fear your curiosity will not be satisfied on this day,” she said haltingly. “Our son is only a few feet away. 'Tis hardly the time for such a wicked dalliance.”
“Then we must return at another time. Perhaps when the moon is full?” he said in a husky whisper.
Faith shivered at the pagan thought of making love beneath the stars. “But the moonlight cannot offer the warmth of the sun.”
“Is not moonlight more magical? More mysterious and forbidden?”
“I confess the cover of darkness intrigues me, my lord. Yet I fear I am too practical. Would I not be cold?”
“Not if you are with me.” The viscount's hands cradled Faith's head, and he pulled her toward him, bringing his lips to hers. Their tongues met in an excited, yet controlled kiss.
When it was over, Griffin pulled back slowly, seeming to savor every moment. They stared at each other, both breathless. Faith shut her eyes briefly, unable to stop the quiver of longing that seared her.
Griffin cleared his throat. “It pains me, but I must admit that you are right, my dear. Now is not the time for our indulgences. And I promised you sunshine on your naked skin. 'Tis not fair for me to go back on my word. Yet I fear if we wait until I am finished working on these blasted accounts there will be frost on the ground. Even my boundless ardor for you will not be able to overcome those elements.”
Faith smiled. “I could help you.”
“Indeed?” He leered at her sexily and she blushed.
“I meant with the accounts.”
“You?”
“Yes.”
His brows drew together. “I have never known a female who could deal successfully with matters of business.”
“Merry does it,” Faith replied defensively. “Actually, she manages a fairly large fortune. Almost entirely on her own.”
“How extraordinary.” Griffin stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Though I suppose I really shouldn't be surprised. Lady Meredith proves time and again that she is a wholly unique woman.”
His praise was like a rude jolt of reality. Faith struggled with the jealousy and resentment, eventually succeeding in conquering both. Yet she lacked the confidence to repeat her offer of assistance.
A stiff formal silence engulfed them. Faith shifted as a slight breeze ruffled a few loose strands of her hair. With a grimace she realized her chignon was coming undone, the pins no doubt loosened when Griffin had held her head and kissed her soundly.
“What's wrong, Faith?”
“Nothing.” She clasped her hands tightly to her upper arms and rubbed vigorously. “Everything.”
Griffin assumed a puzzled expression, but waited patiently for her to explain.
“A few weeks ago, I, along with Harriet and Meredith, spent the better part of afternoon tea spouting off to Elizabeth about how she must be sure to marry a man who values her not only for her beauty and sweet temperament, but for her intelligence. A man who is not afraid to ask her opinion in a wide variety of important matters, nor is too timid to listen to that opinion.”
Griffin crossed his arms across his chest. “That is rather unorthodox advice for a young lady of society, is it not?”
“Yes,” Faith replied slowly. “But 'tis good, sound advice if you are going to spend the rest of your life with someone. Don't you agree?”
“I'm not certain.”
Faith blew out her breath. “Well, I am certain. Yet here I sit, feeling timid and insecure, hesitating to offer you assistance with the estate accounts. Assistance, I might add, that you seem sorely in need of.”
“I thought you were jesting.” Griffin's face took on a look of great interest. “You enjoy doing accounts?”
“Not really,” Faith replied honestly. “But I have a rather unique talent with counting and numbers. I find that with little effort I can easily add long columns of numbers in my head. My father was most amazed by this skill, for he always found ciphering a chore.”
Griffin frowned. She could see that he wasn't certain how to reply. He regarded her solemnly for a long time. To her great dismay, Faith began to feel nervous and regretful of making the bold offer.
Then suddenly the viscount broke into a wide smile. “I shall expect you to report to my study tomorrow morning, directly after breakfast. If you are only half as good with numbers as you boast, my dear, then I anticipate that we shall be able to have a private, intimate rendezvous here beneath the trees directly after luncheon.”
Seventeen
Over the next fortnight Griffin found that his study was no longer a chamber of torture, a place where he needed to steel himself before entering and force himself to concentrate on the estate business he usually found so boring. He was now joined in his work by his wife, and her presence certainly livened his mornings.
To his delight, Griffin quickly learned that Faith had not been exaggerating or boasting of her talent with numbers. Her skill was indeed impressive, though she modestly insisted it was a God-given gift.
There had been a quick stab to his masculine pride when he realized what had taken him a full week to understand had taken his wife only a few hours to grasp. Yet Griffin was not a fool, and it soon became obvious that her able assistance made his life considerably easier.
In addition to her skill with figures, Faith was also able to answer Griffin's endless questions about the running of the estate. It was amazing to discover the depth of her knowledge of growing cycles, grain prices, livestock breeding, and other agricultural matters. Things that he had never had any interest in learning about, until the responsibility of the estate had been thrust upon him.
At first the viscount established a small work space for his wife in a sunny corner of his study. This area gradually grew larger as she spent more and more time each morning poring through the vast number of bound leather account books. Before long, a dainty Queen Anne desk formerly stored in the attic made an appearance, along with other hints of a female presence.
A vase of fresh flowers, an elegant chair with gracefully curving arms, the subtle scent of lavender water wafting through the air. All these feminine distractions played havoc with Griffin's senses, making it difficult to concentrate on business.
More and more the viscount found himself fantasizing about doing a variety of stimulating and erotic acts on the smooth wooden top of his wide, flat desk. None of which had anything remotely to do with the business at hand.
More often than not, just when he would succeed in disciplining himself to ignore Faith for a few moments, she would inadvertently draw attention to herself, clucking her tongue and shaking her head in dismay as she found yet another discrepancy in their finances.
“Nearly a thousand pounds missing,” Faith exclaimed in disgust, tossing down her quill. “ 'Tis the largest sum I've discovered so far, yet I fear that amount will be bested before the morning ends. This particular steward was a very greedy man. His actions were a disgrace, sullying the name of all the good men who work hard and honestly in this profession.”
“Which steward are you referring to, my dear?”
Faith shuffled the papers on her desk, looking for the answer. “Mr. White. He was employed here seven years ago and when he left, after working for three years, he took with him considerably more than he was entitled.”
She sighed and stretched her neck. Griffin resisted the urge to reach over and massage the delicate nape, unsure if he could keep his hands from sliding lower.
“Mr. White devised a rather clever scheme of extortion by manipulating the rents,” Faith continued. “I suppose when he realized that no one was paying any attention to his actions he got sloppy and entered the true amount of money he collected. He crossed it out, but did not obliterate the sum completely. All I had to do was speak with the tenant in question to discover the truth and uncover the duplicity.”
“I've spoken with several of the men that run the larger farms and have gotten the same story,” Griffin said. “None of them are likely to forget how unpleasant and difficult it was working for Mr. White.” The viscount's dark brows drew together. “Do you think it will be possible for us to make restitution to these families?”
Faith scratched her forehead and once again consulted her papers. “That is certainly the fair and honorable course of action. However, it would probably be wisest to lower the current rents and gradually refund the difference. The farmers will certainly appreciate the extra income, and it will not leave our coffers dangerously low on funds.”
The viscount nodded solemnly. “Once you have worked out all the figures, I will begin telling the farmers of their unexpected good fortune.”
“That scoundrel Mr. White took great advantage of the tenants, as well as stealing from his employers,” Faith said passionately. “Honestly, the man should be shot.”
Griffin paused in the act of stacking several papers on his desk. “I cannot condone the man's actions, but isn't an execution a rather bloodthirsty form of justice? Would not transportation to the Colonies satisfy your need for retribution?”
“No.” Faith smiled thinly. “He stole from the estate and he stole from the tenants by inflating their rents, recording a far lower sum as payment and pocketing the difference. A most clever scheme for a man with no conscience.”
“And this warrants a bullet through the heart?”
“Yes. Or a hanging.” Faith steepled her hands in front of her. “Do not look so affronted, sir. I imagine there were times when you were forced to deal with less than honest individuals when running your shipping business. I cannot believe that you allowed yourself to be cheated, or that you let any sort of thievery go unpunished.”
“Of course not. Anyone caught stealing was immediately forced to walk the plank.”
Griffin sat back in his chair, enjoying the wide-eyed gaze his wife bestowed upon him.
“You are joking,” she said after a slight hesitation.
“Are you certain?”
“Yes.” A hint of rose appeared in her cheeks. “Pirates make their victims walk the plank. An honorable sea captain would never do anything so barbaric.”
Griffin burst out laughing. “I've never known a pirate who would waste the time to set out a plank when he could quickly skewer his adversary with a sharp saber and then toss the poor fellow overboard.”
Faith's jaw sagged. “You have known pirates? Real pirates?”
Griffin laughed again. “Faith, as a proper English noblewoman you are supposed to be shocked and horrified at the very thought of me speaking about those sorts of men, let alone knowing any.”
Her brows arched up. “I do not shock easily, my lord.” She shifted her attention to the papers on her desk, feigning great interest in the documents for several moments. Finally she gave up the pretense, swirled around in her chair, and leaned forward eagerly. “What sort of pirates did you know?”
Amusement flickered through Griffin. Her eager look reminded him of a curious child. Where was the staid, traditional gentlewoman he expected, the one who would be content with a life of running the household and raising the children, who would look for additional stimulation in embroidery, watercolors, and gardening?
Instead, his wife excelled at estate management and record keeping, knew more factual and practical methods of making the property successful and profitable than he did. And unconventional, dangerous men captured her imagination.
It had taken Griffin a while to understand and accept that Faith was indeed different from any gently bred woman he had ever met. And that difference was continually intriguing him.
“The men I knew were the type who would steal from their own mothers,” Griffin said. “And it wasn't only the privateers. I tangled with more than one English captain who claimed a member of my crew was a deserter from the royal navy.”
“Was it true?”
Griffin snorted. “Of course not. Most of my crew were of mixed nationalities and had sailed with me for years. Not that it mattered. Impressing sailors is an acceptable and abhorrent practice in the British navy.”
“What did you do?”
“I learned quickly how to avoid those ships, or outrun them if we were spotted.” Griffin grimaced at the memory. “If we were boarded, there were usually cases of wine or brandy that could be used to persuade the good captain to look elsewhere for crew members. If that failed, I resorted to gold coins.”
Faith blinked rapidly several times. “Goodness, they sound worse than the pirates.”
Griffin smiled. “There were times I had difficulty telling them apart. Yet, the sense that there is glamour or honor among pirates is a notion clearly started by someone who has never met one. While trading on routes throughout the world I came across my share of unsavory characters. Men that would make our greedy stewards like Mr. White seem like amateurs.”
“Really?” Faith shivered. “Still, it must have been a grand adventure, sailing to so many different ports of call, visiting places that were unusual and exotic.”
“It had its moments.”
Faith's hand reached out. “Do you miss it so very much?” she asked quietly.
“At times,” he replied honestly. He placed his hands over hers and began to idly stroke her long fingers. “Despite the danger, it was a good life, one I built entirely on my own. And I was successful at it.”
“Unlike running the estate?” Faith said, giving voice to his unspoken thoughts.
The viscount glanced away. “I was very proud of what I accomplished with my shipping business. We gained a reputation for being honest and reliable. My crew worked hard, but they were rewarded for their efforts because we consistently made a profit.”
“And so has the estate.” Faith squeezed his hand. “You must not judge yourself too harshly. You stepped into a hornet's nest and have managed for the most part to come away unscathed. I think that is remarkable.”
“Perhaps,” he allowed. Griffin raked a hand through his hair, shoving it back from his forehead and glanced out the window.
There was a small crew of gardeners digging around an ornamental fountain, carefully preparing the beds for the coming winter. Many of the leaves from the larger trees had fallen, covering the ground in a blanket of brown. Those few that did remain on the branches looked forlorn and lonely, twisting in the wind, helpless, as they awaited their fate.
“ 'Tis not only your shipping business you miss, is it, Griffin?”
He sighed heavily, pulling himself back into the conversation. A part of him rebelled at expressing his emotions, for fear they would hurt Faith. Yet deep down he knew he wanted to share this with her.
“I have always been fascinated by the sea. Even as a young boy it was my dream to go exploring, to venture beyond this quiet, simple village. 'Tis not often that the reality surpasses the dream, but, Faith, that was how I felt when I was captaining my ship.
“Alive with the excitement, the danger, the sheer beauty of open sea surrounding me. That, along with a boundless sense of freedom and a feeling of the unknown that embraced me each morning when I awoke is what I miss most of all.”
He saw Faith's shoulders begin to sag as she mulled over his words. “I had no idea that you had given up such a large part of yourself to return to England. To return here.”
She stared at him, her eyes huge. Griffin trailed a finger along her jaw, feeling a slight tremor pass through her.
“I came back of my own free will and have no plans to leave,” he said softly. “For in truth I cannot say that I'm sorry things turned out the way they did.”
There was a brief pause, and then her delicate mouth curved into a faint smile. “Neither am I, my lord.”
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Light rain fell, enough to cause a darkening of the soil lining the bare flower beds as it hit the ground. Griffin, positioned comfortably behind his desk, watched it through his study window, his mind drifting as he listened to the hypnotic beat of water softly tapping against the tempered glass.
Absently, he turned back to the papers piled on his desk, but they held little interest He was working alone this afternoon on various estate and financial matters and found himself missing his wife's company.
It seemed odd that dealing with myriad estate business over the past fortnight, along with the other everyday domestic decisions that needed to be made, had bound them together more closely as man and wife. He had mistakenly believed an intimate physical relationship would accomplish that task.
In a fairly short time and without realizing it, Griffin had come to rely on Faith's advice and trust her judgment. To his surprise, he found himself wanting to discuss even the most mundane decisions with her. It puzzled him, this need he was beginning to feel. Was it a sign of weakness? Or insanity?
The simple truth was that he was starting to feel contented with this life he was so adamantly against accepting. Griffin had known from boyhood that it would be his older brother who would assume the title, along with all the family responsibilities, and he had always been glad about it.
Griffin could never remember feeling any remorse or jealousy over the fact that Neville would receive all the family's material wealth and possessions while he got a mere token. Except on his tenth birthday when Griffin had been given his brother's old pony as a gift. And Neville had received the newly purchased hunter that Griffin had long coveted.
They had scuffled over the horse, ending their verbal taunting with physical blows. Yet it had been Neville, the heir, who had received a sore rear from their father as punishment while Griffin had been given a stern lecture. Clearly, the expectations placed on the shoulders of the future viscount were far more burdensome than that of the younger son.
He had grown to manhood with a freedom of choice his brother could only dream about, and Griffin was smart enough to realize that was worth far more than a dozen prized horses.
Yet here he was, now living the life of a landed aristocrat, married to the woman chosen for his brother, struggling to make a success of the estate, and starting to find not only joy, but a sense of self in that life.
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