Inventing the Viscount: The Bluestocking Scandals Book 2 Read online

  He preferred this.

  “I think it will be fine,” he said with a shrug. “As long as she doesn’t speak too often from over my shoulder, and so long as I do not take her somewhere like Gunter’s or a tea room, I should be able to hear her just fine. She speaks loudly and clearly enough. Though far too much for my liking.”

  His mother nodded thoughtfully before a smile began to grow on her face, and Miles could tell she was allowing a slight bit of hope to creep in.

  “Oh, Miles,” she said wistfully. “What if this does all work out? Oh, you could be a father. How wonderful would that be?”

  Miles frowned, for the truth was, he wasn’t entirely sure. His own father wasn’t exactly a paragon of virtue. What sort of father would he be to a child? And what if… what if that child was afflicted as he was?

  For Miles had quite a difficult time hearing nearly anything around him. He had always been that way, from the moment he was born. From what he knew, all had thought everything was fine until he came of the age when he should have been responding, should have been cooing his first words. Instead, his mother had told him, he was difficult to parent, a bit of a terror for he didn’t listen to anything said to him. When he remained mute, his father had been horrified, had wanted him hidden away, pronounced dead before anyone realized that the Marquess of Dorrington had sired an idiot child.

  He had blamed his wife, of course. Had said that she had madness running through her family, and after Miles’ brother, Benjamin, was born — thankfully unsoiled — the marquess had refused to attempt any further children for fear of what the result might be.

  Not that his mother had any reservations about that. Miles’ father spent most of his time out at his clubs, and it was no secret that he was a leech without any qualms. He gambled much of his wealth away and had no respect for Miles’ mother. While he wasn’t the only nobleman to be unfaithful, of course, he took no care to keep his actions discreet.

  As a result, Miles and his mother had a rather close bond — for his mother was the one who had kept him out of the madhouse.

  “Enough of those thoughts,” she said now, a crease forming between her brows as she read his mind. “You will be a fine father. You are nothing like him.”

  “One never knows,” Miles said with a shrug, focusing on the cup in front of him, finished with this conversation — until he finally heard a sharp rapping, and looked up to see that his mother was catching his attention by knocking on the table beside her.

  “You will, Miles,” she said pointedly. “And furthermore, despite Lady Fredericka’s sharp eyes, it will likely take time before she realizes anything is off. You read lips better than most people listen to others. You can hear well enough so long as there is no noise behind you and the person is speaking loudly and clearly enough. You will be just fine.” She paused. “Besides, she is a lovely woman. I do not think you have anything to fear.”

  Except that she might not want to risk having a child of her own who would be born like him. Who would have to avoid clubs, where others might think him afflicted, for he could hear nothing with the many conversations around him. Who could hardly speak at balls and the theatre, for he had difficulty making sense of the words around him. Who was threatened to be sent to the madhouse nearly every day of his life.

  “We shall see,” was all he said, not wishing to further worry his mother.

  If it wasn’t for her, he would likely still have trouble speaking. But with her persistence and the help of a specialized tutor, he had learned to speak, slowly and painstakingly. He had learned to focus and hear as best he could, to understood what he needed to do to make up for it.

  He was able to pass himself off as though nothing was wrong, which was the only reason his father had ever allowed him a true existence.

  And Miles was forever grateful.

  He noted his mother turn to the doorway, and he followed her gaze to find that his brother had entered.

  “Good morning, Miles,” he said with a large smile on his affable face. He looked much like Miles, though his coloring was much darker. Miles returned his greeting, pleased to see his brother. It wasn’t Benjamin’s fault that he was the one favored by their father. It made sense. He was everything Miles wasn’t — friendly, likable, unafflicted. “Leaving already?”

  “I am,” he said with a nod. “I have business to attend to today — whether I like it or not.”

  “Oh?”

  “He’s courting Lady Fredericka Ashworth!” his mother exclaimed, and Benjamin’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

  “Truly? I didn’t know you had it in you, old chap.”

  Miles rolled his eyes.

  “Don’t tell me you have no faith in me either, brother.”

  “It’s not that at all,” Benjamin said, apparently accustomed to Miles’ self-doubt. “You just haven’t shown much interest in the ladies, is all. I was beginning to think that you were maybe…”

  He stopped with a glance over at his mother.

  “Well, at any rate, good for you, Miles, whoever you are pursuing. Good day, then! I’m off! Have some courting of my own to do.”

  He winked at Miles, bent over his mother’s hand to place a kiss upon the back of it, and then strode jauntily out the door.

  “Well, Mother, it has been a pleasure, as always,” Miles said, rising as he shook his head at his brother. “I am off to visit Lady Fredericka Ashworth. Lord only knows what she has in mind, now.” A thought struck him — one that would make this visit much easier. “Care to join me?”

  * * *

  Freddie paced the drawing room of her family’s London home. What had she been thinking? After her conversation with Jemima and perhaps too many cups of the ratafia spiked with Jemima’s hidden brandy, she had thought her scheme splendid. She would wed a man like Miles Luxington, who would most likely leave her be.

  When they were children, their families had been friends, but he had never spent a great deal of time with her and her sisters, not as his brother had. Instead, Miles would usually take out a book and hide away in one alcove or another, ignoring the lot of them. She had always thought that he didn’t care for any of them, but perhaps she was wrong. Perhaps he was just shy.

  At least she hoped that was the case. She had seen the wariness in his eyes at her scheme, and she had a feeling that he wasn’t particularly pleased.

  Perhaps he wasn’t interested in her. Or interested in marriage. For he would have been married by now, wouldn’t he? She couldn’t recall if she had ever heard of him being tied to a woman. She didn’t think so; but then, she hadn’t been paying particularly close attention. In fact, she had barely thought anything of him until her mother had dragged him across the St. Vincent ballroom just moments after she had been telling Jemima about her wish to only marry someone who would allow her to live as she wanted to and do what she chose to do. His brother Benjamin was much more charming, but Freddie doubted he was the type who would allow his wife leave to do as she pleased. Or if he did, it would only be because he was out with many other ladies. She would hope for some faithfulness.

  “Fredericka?” Her mother was the only person who knew her well who called her by her full name. She always told Freddie that it was a beautiful name and that someone should use it. “Are you expecting a guest?”

  “I’m not exactly sure,” Freddie said truthfully as her mother entered the drawing room, crossing her arms over her chest and looking beyond Freddie out the front window.

  “There is a carriage approaching,” she said, skirting around the table in the middle of the room to look out front. “It’s quite polished. A handsome pair of horses. Someone of means. Oh!”

  Freddie sighed. This would have been easier without her mother present.

  “It’s Miles — that is, Lord Gilmore.”

  Apparently, her mother also thought of Miles as the bookish boy he had been and not so much the current viscount.

  Freddie had always kept her distance from Miles’ father, the ma
rquess. He was a cold man, to be sure, but it was more than that — the hard glint in his eye and the way Miles flinched whenever he was near told her that there was more behind that cold exterior, more that she had no wish to uncover. Her father had always been friends with him, but never particularly close — it was their mothers who knew one another well.

  And… if she wasn’t mistaken, that was Miles’ mother accompanying him out of the carriage.

  She was surprised at the disappointment that struck her. She hadn’t thought that she had been looking forward to this — whatever this was, with him. It would be quite a different visit with their mothers present.

  “Oh, lovely!” Freddie’s mother said. “Delilah is here as well.”

  She turned, standing next to Freddie as they awaited their guests. She might have wondered whether Miles was going to even venture out of the carriage, for he entered quite long after his mother.

  “Beatrice!”

  “Dee!”

  Their mothers took one another by the hands in a friendly embrace of sorts before Lady Dorrington greeted Freddie, who smiled politely before Miles finally arrived in the doorway, nodding to her and her mother in greeting.

  “Please, come in and sit,” Freddie’s mother said, leading them all over to the grouping of chairs around the table before she called for tea. Freddie sat down, spreading her hands over her knees, gripping them as they sat. This was all extremely awkward. Why had she even suggested this visit to Miles? Why had he decided to come? Why had he brought his mother?

  At the very least, their mothers filled the silence while Freddie avoided his gaze uncomfortably.

  “Fredericka?” her mother said, and Freddie nearly jumped in surprise, so focused she had been on not looking at Miles.

  “Yes?”

  “It must be awfully boring for the two of you to sit here while Delilah and I catch up. You and Miles should go for a walk or a drive. It is a lovely day.”

  “Oh, I’m not sure—” Freddie was surprised that Lady Dorrington began answering for Miles, but he interrupted her with a wave of his hand.

  “It’s fine, Mother,” he said in his slow and steady manner. “We will see you shortly.”

  He stood, holding his arm out to Freddie in a rather uncomfortable manner. “Shall we?”

  “Take Louisa!” Freddie’s mother said with a smile before practically shooing them out the door.

  They were alone. Now Freddie had to decide whether she was glad of it or not.

  3

  Freddie took Miles’ arm as they walked from the room before she summoned her maid to join them. She clumsily released it as she donned her bonnet, but then returned her hand as their feet hit the cobblestones of Mayfair Street. Goodness, courting was an awkward dance.

  They nodded at passersby as they made their way down the street.

  “Are we going to Hyde Park?” Freddie asked, breaking the silence, but Miles ignored her.

  “Miles?” she squeezed his arm to capture his attention, and he turned to her with eyebrows raised.

  “I’m sorry, did you say something?” he asked, and Freddie inwardly sighed. He clearly had no serious interest in her. He had likely arrived today only to be polite. His mother had probably dragged him to Freddie’s house.

  “I just asked if we were going to Hyde Park,” she repeated herself, and he tilted his head.

  “Yes, but let’s stay near the pond.”

  “Away from everyone?” she said, narrowing her eyes, and he shrugged.

  “I suppose so.”

  So he didn’t want anyone to see the two of them together. Very well.

  An awkward silence stretched between them as they continued down the street until they finally turned the corner to the park. The grass was still rather a wintery brown, despite the fact that spring was beginning to show its face as the air was becoming slightly warmer each day rather than colder.

  “How are your sisters?” Miles finally asked, and Freddie smiled as she thought of them.

  “They are well,” she said. “Marion has two children now, while Eleanor married last year. We just found out she is expecting.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, and Freddie was slightly perturbed by the intensity of his green stare once more.

  “And your brother?” she asked.

  “Benjamin is Benjamin,” he said, his smile one of affection. “He loves everyone, and everyone loves him.”

  Freddie sensed there was more behind his words that he wasn’t actually saying. It did not seem that he resented his brother, but perhaps he knew that everything others loved about his brother could not be said about him.

  “I hope you did not feel undue pressure when I asked if you would call upon me,” Freddie said, clenching her fingernails into her palms at her words. It had to be said, however, for it seemed to be causing the tension in the air between them.

  “I was surprised more than anything,” Miles said, and Freddie parted her lips in curiosity at his statement.

  “Why would that be?”

  “It seemed to me that you would already be spoken for,” he said with a shrug, and Freddie wondered whether or not his words were meant to be a compliment.

  “I am not,” she said softly, not adding that she had been at one point in time — but all that had accomplished was proving that one had to be practical when it came to marriage. Following her heart had only led to betrayal.

  “Listen, Freddie,” he began, and she took a deep breath, ready for him to politely reject any idea of the two of them courting beyond this one walk.

  “Miles, it’s fine, I—”

  She had been about to tell him that he didn’t have to worry. That it had just been an idea that had come upon her — an impulsive idea, which was quite unlike her. That he should take her home and pretend that she had never said anything.

  But then, with his eyes upon her so intently that she hadn’t been able to look away, she hadn’t been paying attention to where she was going. She hit a patch of slick mud, and her feet flew out from under her.

  Strong arms came around just before she hit the ground, and Freddie’s breath came quickly, though whether it was from the panic of nearly hitting the ground or how close Miles’ face was from hers, she wasn’t entirely sure.

  “Are you all right?” Miles finally said before lifting her and setting her back on her feet. Freddie nodded mutely, attempting to catch hold of her emotions once more. Her reasoning had vanished for a moment as she had enjoyed Miles’ touch upon her far more than she would have thought.

  “Th-thank you, Miles,” she finally managed, and he nodded before stepping away from her, but he did hold out his arm.

  “Be sure to hold on tighter now,” was all he said as he steered her closer to the lake. He drew her to the edge, the bridge just in the distance as he parted tall grass to show her the view beyond.

  “The swans,” she said with a smile as a couple of the majestic creatures began to swim toward them.

  “It’s one of my favorite views,” he said, his gaze ahead of them, following the swans as they continued on their lazy circle back the way they came. “You can see the mass of people in the distance — close enough that the colors swirl together in a rainbow of color and yet far enough that they don’t provide a distraction.”

  “A distraction?” Freddie repeated, confused. “From what?”

  But Miles ignored her, continuing their walk instead, leading her down around the lake path.

  “Careful,” he said, pointing out another slippery patch, and she nodded as they continued. They were nearly around when Freddie saw a couple ahead of them on the path, and she stopped so quickly she nearly went off balance again.

  Miles turned around, consternation on his face. “What is it?”

  “Ah, nothing. Could we, ah, perhaps return the way we came?” Perspiration broke out on her brow at the thought of the approaching lord seeing her. It had been quite some time since she last saw the man who had broken her heart — and t
aken far more than that — and she had no wish to see him again. Particularly so happy with his new bride.

  “I didn’t realize you were so eager to return.”

  “It isn’t that. It’s just, I—”

  But it was too late. They had seen her.

  “Lady Fredericka,” Lord Lovelace – Henry to her at one time but certainly no longer – said as he approached. “You look well.”

  A chill raced down Freddie’s spine as she hugged her arms into her stomach to keep from shaking. He was ever the gentleman, as though nothing had ever occurred between them. Meanwhile, turmoil filled her stomach but she proudly managed a polite smile to match his. “Thank you. As do you, Lord Lovelace, Lady Lovelace,” she said.

  Lady Lovelace — a name she had scrawled upon her stationery far too often, thinking it would become her own moniker. But that had been years ago. Now she was much wiser. She knew that a good-looking man with charm could be hiding something much darker.

  “Do you know Lord Gilmore?”

  Lord Lovelace nodded at him. “Good to see you again, Gilmore,” he said. “It has been some time.”

  “So it has,” Miles said, looking back and forth between Freddie and Lord Lovelace with interest, as though he sensed there was more between them than a simple acquaintance.

  “You shall have to call upon me some time, Lady Fredericka,” Lady Lovelace said with a genuine smile, and despite her polite answering expression, Freddie cringed inside. Call upon Lady Lovelace? Clearly the woman had no idea of her husband’s past actions nor his duplicity.

  Freddie murmured a simple “Of course,” but refused to meet Lord Lovelace’s gaze.

  They allowed the couple to pass, and it was a few moments before Miles murmured, “Still wanting to turn around?”