To Wed A Viscount (8 page)

The maid gave her a grateful smile and a quick curtsy before leaving.

Faith placed the pitcher beside the silver teapot, then glanced helplessly at Griffin. She was almost afraid to open her mouth, certain that she would once again be interrupted.

“You were speaking of last night,” Griffin prompted, “although I confess after the initial surprise wore off, I did not give it serious contemplation. However, if you would care to enlighten me as to why you felt it necessary to conceal your true identity, I will gladly listen.”

Faith rubbed her chin. This was certainly a far different attitude than last night, when he had practically tried to bully her into an explanation.

“Due to the unpleasantness of my father's will, I felt it might be wise to leave Mayfair Manor for a few days, so I journeyed to London with Meredith,” Faith stated calmly. “Meredith thought I might find it amusing to attend Lady Dillard's musical evening, but since I am still in mourning, it was impossible for me to appear at any society function.

“Both Meredith and I felt it would harm no one by enacting the little charade of pretending to be Miss Maxwell, a distant cousin. Even Aunt Agatha saw no overt problems with the white lie, and we certainly never thought to encounter anyone who knew my true name.”

“Actually, it makes perfect sense,” Griffin said, his voice an odd mix of amusement and candor. “The rules of society can be rigid at times, at others they seem downright ridiculous.”

“Precisely.” Faith nodded her head eagerly.

“I for one am not known for my strict adherence to propriety.”

Faith lowered her chin to conceal her smile. “I suspected that might be the case.”

“However, there are certain rules that when broken can leave a woman in a most precarious position.”

Faith's head snapped up. His voice was suddenly so somber and serious. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I am talking about indiscretion.” Griffin glanced briefly at his boots. “I'm hoping that you will speak candidly to me about your circumstances, however painful they might be.”

Faith wrinkled her brow. What in the world was he getting at? She searched his handsome features for guidance, but the viscount's expressionless face revealed nothing. He must have seen her confusion, for he added softly, “I am referring, of course, to your relationship with my brother, Neville.”

“Oh.” Color flooded Faith's cheeks. Remembering Neville and her nearly nonexistent relationship with her former fiance forced her to confront her deepest regrets. She wasn't pretty enough, desirable enough,
womanly
enough to be a wife. His rejection of her, in front of the entire community that was her world, had ruined her, leaving her with little pride and almost no self-confidence.

“I would not use the word indiscretion to describe my relationship with your brother. It was more a case of naive stupidity.” Her voice dropped to a discouraged whisper. “And while it might be true that Neville has ruined me, I realize that I must accept the fact that I shall never marry, and therefore carry on with my life to the best of my abilities.”

She hadn't meant to sound like such a martyr, but it almost couldn't be helped. Speaking of Neville was always a painful reminder of her failures.

Faith caught the flicker of a smile on Griffin's handsome face. It was somewhat surprising, considering the grave nature of their conversation. Perhaps it wasn't really a smile, but rather a grimace.

Griffin breathed deeply, as the moment of reckoning was upon him. He had hoped she would refute his suspicions, deny any hint of impropriety. Yet deep in his heart, Griffin was not overly surprised. More and more he had begun to suspect that Neville might have abused his privileges as Faith's fiance, for his brother had not been known for either his morality nor generosity of spirit.

'Tis settled,
Griffin thought with grim determination. The matter that he had wondered and fretted over was now inevitable. Neville had ruined her, yet it was Griffin's responsibility to set it all to rights. Just like this bloody title. Neither sought after nor welcomed, but assumed because there is no other recourse.

Griffin eyed Faith speculatively. She did not look like a woman who would elicit unbridled passion, but he had long ago learned never to be hasty when judging a female.

His mouth tightened. If he was going to spend the rest of his life sleeping and waking beside her, he might as well make certain of one more thing.

Griffin shifted swiftly from his large chair to join her on the cozy love seat. She seemed startled, but her expression did not alter until he wrapped his arms around her waist and drew her close.

Faith's eyes widened and her lips parted with surprise just as he bent his head and kissed her. It was a full, deep kiss, filled with passion and mystery. He felt her hesitate and stiffen, yet she did not retreat.

Griffin backed off a hair's breadth, letting her make the choice. He could feel the warmth of her breath mingling with his own as she made her decision; then a smile of pure male satisfaction crossed his face as she arched up to once again meet his lips.

He kissed her again. Boldly, he caressed her lips, gliding along the tender flesh with his tongue. She opened her mouth to him and he pressed closer, tasting her fully, his questing tongue twirling seductively with hers.

It seemed like it had been a very long time since he had kissed a woman so completely. Griffin succumbed to his baser instincts and thoroughly indulged himself, repeatedly kissing Faith deeply, hungrily, until they were both nearly breathless.

She strained against him, and their kisses became more heated, more urgent. He felt his body draw up tight with pleasure. Her honest excitement stirred a restless yearning deep inside that both surprised and delighted him.

Faith's kiss held back no hesitant passion, none of the shy ignorance one would expect from a virginal maid. She did not appear overly experienced, and he surmised her skill in arousing him so quickly was due less to her carnal knowledge and more to her naturally passionate nature.

Griffin moaned low in his throat. Faith reached up with one of her hands and cupped his face, as if she feared he would pull away. Her obvious need quickened his own desire with startling intensity.

He buried his fingers in her silky scalp, disturbing the tightly coiled chignon so thoroughly that her hair fell through his fingers and spilled down her back. It felt like warm silk.

His hand slid lower, cupping her breast fully. His palm seemed to burn as his fingers traced the surprising fullness. She moaned in a soft, low voice and pushed herself closer. Her hands reached out, sliding past his lapels and twined in his hair.

Griffin thought about lowering the bodice of her gown and covering her breasts with his hands, stroking her nipples until they stiffened. He fantasized about lifting her skirts and searching out her feminine secrets, pleasuring her with deep, slow strokes, bringing her to the very edge again and again until she was nearly mindless.

He doubted she would object. She did not appear frightened or surprised by his sexual advance. Indeed, his aggressiveness seemed to fuel her own passion. Heady thoughts, indeed.

With far more regret than he ever believed possible, Griffin pulled away from Faith. He took a deep breath, then a second, drawing inward to collect himself. The band of regret that had tightened his chest when he realized he must marry her started to ease.

It seemed an odd belief for a confirmed womanizer, but Griffin believed wholeheartedly in the institution of marriage. He had always promised himself that he would not marry a woman who overtly displeased or repelled him. He would marry a woman he could someday grow to love, and who could in turn love him.

The loveless matches of society held no interest for him. He wanted a life partner, someone to share both the good and difficult times. Someone he could respect, admire, and most importantly trust.

Faith Linden was nothing at all like a wife he would have chosen for himself. She was too unsophisticated, too plain in looks, manner, and dress, too opinionated at times for a woman, and she had an independent streak that bore close watching. Still, in his honest heart, Griffin knew he could do far worse. And it certainly would be no hardship marrying a woman who could kiss as she did.

“I think, Miss Linden, that considering all the circumstances, it would be prudent for us to marry.” He ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing the loose strands that Faith had mussed back into place. “In fact, we should probably marry before we return to the country. I shall see about making special arrangements this afternoon.”

There was a loud gasp of shock. He turned to face her and saw a world of confusion, along with a strong glimmer of hope in the rich brown eyes that stared so steadily back at him.

“Would you be so kind as to repeat your question, Lord Dewhurst?” she whispered.

“I want you to be my wife. Marry me, Faith.”

“Are you serious?” She was eyeing him with a most peculiar expression, almost as though she were hypnotized. “I do not understand. You made your feelings on the matter of a marriage between us quite clear when we spoke of this at your home. Why have you changed your mind?”

Gently catching her chin with the end of his finger, he tipped her face up to his. “ 'Tis the proper thing to do, Faith. Both our fathers wanted an alliance between the families. Why not honor their wishes?”

There was a slight hesitation. Griffin felt his face turn warm, thinking she was about to refuse him. After all these years and countless women, he had finally asked one to marry him. And it suddenly appeared as though she was about to decline. How utterly humiliating.

“Yes,” she finally said, her voice firm. “I shall be honored to marry you, Griffin.”

Faith's grin was so wide her jaw ached, but she could not seem to remove it. Married! She was to be married. To Griffin Sainthill, Viscount Dewhurst, the object of every girlhood fantasy she had ever had.

This union would not only bring her the man she had always secretly desired from afar, but their marriage would allow her to retain possession of Mayfair Manor, her girlhood home. Flustered, she grabbed a stray curl that hung on her shoulder and wound it around her fingers. Remembering how her tightly coiled hair had become loose brought a fresh smile to her swollen lips and a slight blush to her cheeks.

Griffin's kisses had heated her blood and touched her soul. He had unleashed hungers she'd never even known she possessed, awakening a sensual, womanly side of herself that she was now eager to explore.

And now she would have that chance, because they were to be married.
Dear Lord!

Faith forced herself to take a deep breath and attempted to compose her turbulent emotions. Yet it was nearly impossible, for her blood was practically singing with excitement. Knowing that this tall, handsome, solid man was going to be hers brought her happiness to an almost giddy level. It was a miracle.

She felt as if she were flying, suspended from reality. Faith could hear her own heartbeat, loud and pounding in her ears. It was almost too much happiness to bear.

Hesitantly she looked at him. He was leaning back against the cushions of the love seat, totally at ease, his manner relaxed, almost casual. As if becoming engaged was a common, everyday occurrence. For a moment, she envied his cavalier attitude.

Or perhaps this just wasn't as important and momentous an occasion to him as it was for her.

“There is something that I need to tell you.”

The solemn tone of Griffin's voice chiseled at Faith's happiness. She swallowed convulsively. “Yes?”

“I have a child. A son.” Griffin looked at her keenly. “I brought him home to England with me from the Colonies.”

Faith's knees turned to water. A son! Oh, dear, how could she possibly stand any more joy. In one fell swoop those secret longings she had nearly buried within herself had become a stark reality. Not only was she at long last going to become a wife, but also a mother.

Faith felt a sudden, emotional ache in her throat. She swallowed hard, struggling to speak evenly. “I did not realize that you had been married, my lord.”

Something flickered briefly in Griffin's eyes. “My business affairs kept me traveling to distant ports most of the year. We did not live together.”

“Only long enough to have a child?” she quipped. His head jerked up and her smile of delight widened. A son! She was going to be a mother, and there was nothing in the universe that could dim that joy. “You are very good at keeping secrets, sir. I had not heard about your child. Is he at school?”

“No, he is too young to be sent away to school. He is nearly four years old.” Griffin's expression grew thoughtful, and the frown between his brow eased. “Would you prefer that I have him sent away?”

“Goodness, no!” Faith exclaimed in horror. “I was merely applauding your powers of discretion. Harrowby is a small village. I've never had any success in keeping my affairs from becoming the object of town gossip, yet you have managed to keep both your former marriage and heir a private matter.” Faith leaned forward eagerly. “Tell me more about your little boy.”

Griffin smiled with obvious relief. “He is a sturdy lad, quick of mind, with a natural curiosity, yet he is oddly self-contained for one so young. He managed the crossing well, barely having any seasickness.”

“Ah, a natural sailor, just like his father.” The pride in Griffin's voice pleased Faith mightily. It was clear he held his child in great affection. She took that as a sign that bode well for her own future offspring, if they should be so blessed.

“Coming to England has been a difficult adjustment for him, however.” Griffin sighed. “His nursemaid returned to the Colonies soon after we arrived. She was more like a surrogate mother to him, since his own died nearly a year ago. At this point, I'm afraid I am more of a stranger than father to him.”

“Poor lad. It must all be so frightening and confusing for him. Have you engaged a new nurse?”

“I did, but the girl was not suitable. My sister Harriet has since interviewed several young women for the post, but had not settled upon one when I left to come to London.”

Faith nodded her head vigorously. “That shall be my first duty when we return home. After all, it is a mother's responsibility to see to the welfare of her children, not an aunt's.” She dipped her head shyly. “Do you think he will be pleased to have me as his new mother?”

“I have a feeling that young Neville will be delighted.”

“Neville?” Faith echoed weakly. “The boy's name is Neville?”

The customary amusement faded from Griffin's handsome features. “I was away at sea when he was born. His mother thought to honor my family by naming him after my brother.”

“Oh, dear.” Faith flushed deeply and looked away. Who would ever have believed such rotten luck? Of all the names in Christendom, why did the woman have to select that one? Could she not have named the child after his father? Or grandfather?

It seemed as though Faith was destined to remain tied to the past. Now, through this innocent child, she would forever be reminded, most likely each day, of someone she had longed to forget.

“Faith?”

She lifted her head automatically. They stared at each other for a few long, tense moments.

“It really is an awful name, isn't it?” she ventured softly.

The corners of Griffin's mouth began to slowly crack, and then he burst out laughing. “ 'Tis dreadful. Hardly an appropriate name for a little boy. I remember my brother never liked it, either. Perhaps we shall give our young Neville a nickname.”

“That's a splendid idea. I'm sure if we put our heads together we can come up with a name that is agreeable to all of us.”

“We shall make that our first task when we return home,” Griffin decided. “A new name for our son.”

“Yes,” Faith said softly, as a tempest of emotions swirled through her. She liked how he had referred to the child as
our
son, and was even more pleased with the notion of being included in selecting a nickname for the boy. It made it seem as if they were already becoming a family.

“Since you are of age, I assume there is no one I need to ask permission for your hand in marriage?” Griffin inquired.

“There is no one,” Faith responded shyly. A fleeting memory of her father and how delighted he would have been with this sudden turn of events tugged at her heart. “However, I would like to consult with Meredith's solicitor again, to make certain that I will be able to retain ownership of Mayfair Manor once we are wed.”

“An excellent suggestion.” Griffin rose to his feet. “I shall accompany you.”

He had not phrased his words in the form of a question, yet the ensuing silence told Faith that Griffin would at least listen to her objections if she decided he should not be at the meeting with the lawyer. Since she had none, she remained quiet.

“I prefer not to wait long to formalize our vows,” Griffin continued. “Would you mind very much if we forgo all the fuss of a formal wedding and marry quietly? I can easily and quickly obtain a special license.”

Return to Harrowby a married woman! Faith could think of nothing she would like better. “A quiet ceremony will do very nicely. My only request is that Meredith, her two brothers, and Aunt Agatha are in attendance.”

“That can easily be arranged.” Griffin extracted a gold timepiece from the pocket of his waistcoat and consulted it. “There is ample time to begin organizing things this afternoon. Will Thursday morning suit?”

“Yes.” Faith closed her eyes briefly. Thursday was a mere three days away. “I feel like I should pinch myself, to make certain this isn't all a dream.” She gave him an impish grin. “Or perhaps I should pinch you, instead?”

“Do so at your own peril, my dear,” Griffin countered, as a roguish smile surfaced.

Faith shivered. That grin reminded her of all the things she found nearly irresistible about the man—the easy charm, the masculine vitality, the sensual strength. Their eyes locked, and something strange and intimate seemed to pass between them.

Griffin lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a soft, delicate kiss on the top of her wrist. At his warm touch, the hunger and longing inside her once more sprang to life.

Faith involuntarily shivered again, and she wondered how on earth she was going to wait until Thursday.

 

 

“I still don't understand why we must attend Lady Dillard's ball,” Faith declared grimly, as her shoulder pressed sharply against Meredith's.

The carriage rattled down the cobbled road, swaying and jostling the four passengers inside. Faith tried glaring at Griffin, who was seated directly opposite her, but the approaching darkness lessened the effect of demonstrating her ire. “Could we not have written Lady Dillard a note, explaining the situation? Or called upon her in private?”

“No,” Griffin replied firmly. “Since you made your initial appearance at her home as Miss Maxwell, 'tis only fitting you should now reveal the truth at her ball. Besides, it is logical to assume that many of the same guests who attended the musical evening will be in attendance tonight. It will be much simpler and far more efficient to let everyone else know the truth also.”

Faith crossed her arms beneath her breast and huffed loudly. “I shall be changing my name the moment we are married. Who will even remember that I was, for a most brief time, Miss Maxwell?”

“Probably someone you don't wish to,” Griffin replied philosophically. “You must trust me on this, Faith. It is far better to take the matter in hand now.”

“His lordship is right,” Aunt Agatha agreed with an enthusiastic bobbing of her head. “Best to get this silly mess settled.”

Faith huffed out another breath and tried glaring at Meredith's elderly aunt. Ever since she had agreed to marry him, only two days ago, Griffin had become a constant visitor to the household.

He took meals at Meredith's home, engaged an elegant hired coach for carriage rides to the park at the fashionable afternoon hour, and even accompanied the three women to the shops on Bond street. And in that short time he had managed to somehow completely charm the older woman.

It was a pattern that Faith could not avoid noticing. It seemed that nearly any female Griffin came in contact with, be it nobility or gentry or common maid, seemed to fall instantly under his spell.

Even Merry was starting to thaw toward him.

“I still think we could have written Lady Dillard a note,” Faith persisted peevishly.

She frowned at Griffin in the dimly lit carriage, then clamped hard on her jaw. Even though Faith knew she had already lost this battle, she could not seem to let the matter drop. Partly because she was very nervous about facing all these exalted people with her former lie and partly because she chafed at taking orders from Griffin. It was one aspect of their engagement she hadn't fully anticipated.

If her fiance was disturbed by her negativity, he gave no indication, replying calmly, “After we are married, I don't plan on spending a great amount of time in town; however, I would certainly be remiss in my duty if I allowed this charade to go uncorrected.

“I realize you wish to let the matter go unaddressed, but honestly Faith, would you really prefer that I throw my cloak over your head and hide you from view each time we encounter someone who knew you as Miss Maxwell?”

“Perhaps I could learn to press myself behind architectural columns or perfect leaping into shrubbery to conceal myself,” Faith suggested, summoning up her brightest smile. “Then we wouldn't have to be so concerned about you needing to toss your garments over my head.”

Griffin's gaze found hers in the murky darkness of the coach. “I shall want to show you off when you are my wife, not hide you.”

It was a gallant, flattering sentiment, but Faith was too distraught to fully appreciate it. “I don't understand why it should matter so much,” she grumbled.

“Society can be most unforgiving,” Meredith said. “They are quick to criticize and even quicker to condemn. If you reveal the truth now, there will be a minor ripple, but if you attempt to conceal it, a great wave of scandal might someday wash over the entire family. When you least expect it.”

“How dire,” Faith mumbled under her breath, feeling a sting of betrayal at Merry's agreement with Griffin. Was there no one at all who would take up her side in this discussion?

Griffin reached across the small space that separated them and took Faith's hand. He had removed his gloves for the short carriage ride to Lady Dillard's home. Faith could feel the strength and power in his fists and a slight roughness in his palms. Yet the bones of his hands were long and elegant.

“I'm nervous,” Faith blurted out.

“I realize that,” Griffin replied, cocking his head to one side. “I promise to stay unfashionably glued to your side throughout the evening. And Lady Meredith and Aunt Agatha are here to lend support. You are not alone, Faith.”

She felt the heat flare in her cheeks. They were all trying to be supportive of her and she was acting like a spoiled child. The course had been set; she had no choice but to follow it. The least she could do was approach it with determination and dignity.

Resolutely, Faith buried her doubts and launched into a nonsensical discussion about the weather. This lighthearted conversation continued for the remainder of the journey and seemed to place everyone at ease.