Inventing the Viscount: The Bluestocking Scandals Book 2 Read online

  Freddie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Whatever you’d like,” she said softly, and he nodded, his expression grim.

  “Very well,” he said. “Let’s do one more turn and then continue to walk home.”

  “That sounds good,” she said. “Thank you, Miles.” For not asking questions. For seeming to understand that she didn’t wish to speak of it any further.

  But he said nothing in response, only continuing to look ahead of him.

  Freddie had forgotten how little Miles spoke. When they were children, they had chosen to basically ignore him — she and her sisters would play with Benjamin, who was much more lively. Miles was a serious sort, though he had always been kind.

  “Do you have any other plans for today?” she asked, but he ignored her, instead walking determinately home. It was clear he really had no wish to continue to spend time with her. He had obviously been about to tell her so when she had slipped near the creek, but then she had completely forgotten to further pursue their conversation when her mind had been addled by his nearness and she had then been distracted by Lord Lovelace and his wife.

  “You didn’t have to come today if you weren’t interested, Miles,” she said, her gaze on the ground as she didn’t entirely want to see his expression at her words — it would likely be one of relief when she released him from this day. She realized belatedly that she had squeezed his arm as she spoke.

  “What was that?” he finally asked.

  “I said that you didn’t have to come today,” she said, finally looking at him. “It was simply a suggestion. I know you are too polite to have refused, but I’d like you to know that you and I… well, we don’t have to be anything beyond today’s visit. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything to you last night. I simply thought that since you hadn’t married, and since I hadn’t married, but we were both expected to, that it could be the ideal arrangement. I mean, we like each other well enough, and it would be better to be married to someone you consider a friend. But I was being foolish. You see, I had a sip too many of Jemima’s hidden brandy and—”

  Freddie drew a breath to calm herself. She knew she was speaking far too quickly now, but she was trying to explain herself in a way that made sense. She didn’t want to look the fool, but the more he stared at her with such an intent expression, the more she felt the need to talk herself out of this. “I am pleased our mothers have had the opportunity to spend time together, but this doesn’t have to go any further. We will return home, we will tell them we had a lovely walk, and then you can go home and we never have to speak again aside from the casual hello when we run into one another. Then—”

  “Freddie,” he said, stopping her flow of words. She had a tendency to ramble on when she was nervous, something she knew she needed to put a stop to.

  “Yes?”

  “We should.”

  “We should… what?” she asked, confused.

  “We should do it.”

  “I’m sorry, Miles, I don’t—”

  “Freddie… would you marry me?”

  4

  Miles didn’t know who was more shocked at his question — Freddie… or he.

  She stopped walking, her feet rooted to the ground as she stared at him with her mouth wide open.

  “Pardon me?”

  “I asked if you would marry me,” he repeated, wondering if she truly hadn’t heard him. After all, he asked people to repeat themselves quite often.

  “Why?” she asked, and when he saw a bench, he led her off of the path toward it, sitting down next to her so that their knees were nearly touching. The view in front of him was one he longed to return to in order to paint, but now was not the time to think of such a thing.

  “It’s as you said,” he explained, trying to make sense of it himself. The words had spewed forth, in part to get her to stop talking, stop questioning herself. There was clearly some past history with Lord Lovelace, which had only seemed to put further doubts in herself. Why he thought proposing marriage was a solution to increasing her self-worth he had no idea, but the more he thought on it, the more he was warming to the idea. “We get on well enough with one another. Our mothers are great friends. It’s a sound idea.”

  As she had spoken, her words began to make sense and he had been stolen by the thought – why not? Then he could have this all done, without the need to endure the courting business.

  If he married her, he would also no longer have to put himself through the agony of pursuing any other. She was pleasant enough and she would do as she wished without requiring constant attention from him. His father would approve of her, and his marriage would perhaps be enough to keep the marquess from following through on the threats he continually uttered.

  But… he was never one to make a rash decision. Perhaps he should have thought this through.

  “Well, one good reason would be that perhaps you would like to wait for a woman you are passionately in love with.”

  Miles laughed uncomfortably. He had thought himself to be in love once, but that had been ruined with one simple admission. When she had found out about his impairment, she had been done with him. Now, he just needed someone who would fit the required role of viscountess and one day marchioness.

  “I don’t think that will ever happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “It just won’t,” he said, more sharply than he intended. “Anyway, it would likely work well between us.”

  “There is one thing — something that is very important,” she said, looking at him intently, and he stared at her, waiting for her request.

  Of course, there would be something else. Why else would she want to marry him? Would she want the ability to take a lover? Maybe that was why she actually wanted to wed — she was in love with a footman or something of the sort and needed someone to hide their affair. That, he realized with a fierce and unexpected surge of possessiveness, would never happen. If he was going to take a wife, she would be his, damn it.

  Then another thought occurred to him — perhaps she was with child. Could he raise another man’s child as his own?

  He was so caught up in his imaginings that he nearly missed her request.

  “I would like the ability to continue my work without restriction.”

  Confusion rippled through him, and he frowned. “Your work?”

  She nodded briefly, looking down at her hands once more. He wished she wouldn’t do that. It was hard to watch her lips with her head tilted downward.

  “I… well, I suppose you could say I like to… tinker with things. Find better ways to make them work. My father taught me how to woodwork when I was young, and since then, there are a few apparatuses that I have devised to help around the house.”

  “Like what?” he asked, fascinated for a moment. The woman was beautiful, friendly, and now intelligent enough to have apparently innovated a new concept?

  “Nothing much, really,” she said, red staining her cheeks. “One is a device of sorts.” She began to explain it, but she continued to look away and he struggled to hear her. Something to do with eggs and tea.

  “Interesting,” he murmured, wishing he knew more of what she said.

  “It’s nothing.” She waved a hand in the air, perhaps mistaking his nonchalance for disinterest.

  “I do not mind if you want to spend time on such work, Freddie,” he said instead, knowing it was what she wanted to hear. “You can do as you please.”

  “Excellent,” she said, a true smile finally beaming across her face as she clapped her hands together.

  Miles suddenly had the feeling that she could care less who she married as long as he provided for her while allowing her to do as she pleased. A sense of unease filled him. He was not typically an impulsive man. Now he remembered why. Some decisions, however hastily made, could not be undone.

  “When… when would you like to be married?”

  The first glimmer of what he guessed was hesitancy crossed her face. How much had she tho
ught this through herself? Had she considered that this would be a pairing for life? That, while they may never be a couple in love, they would share living space, have adjoining bedrooms, possibly create children together?

  He voiced none of that, though, as he stood from the bench, holding his arm out to her once more. The spring day was crisp and clear, the leaves on the trees beginning to turn green as they began to flourish around the Serpentine.

  “I suppose we could wait until after Easter and long enough for the banns to be read,” he said. “Would that work for you?”

  “Of course. I do not have many people I would like to invite to attend the wedding. My family, of course, and some of my friends, but that would suffice. My mother would like to invite half the ton, I’m sure, but she was able to do so for my sisters, so it should be fine. Well,” she said, her voice returning to the firm businesslike tone once more, “shall we return and share the good news with our mothers?”

  Miles nodded. His mother would be thrilled. He was glad someone would be. He liked Freddie — truly, he did. But he wondered just how he would spend the rest of his life next to perfection and not feel the worse for it all.

  * * *

  This was good, Freddie told herself as she sat on the sofa while their mothers planned excitedly.

  Lady Dorrington and Freddie’s mother had been shocked yet thrilled when she and Miles had surprised them with their announcement. Miles was currently speaking with her father to make everything official, but it had basically been determined.

  Freddie sat there as the women spoke to one another so quickly she had to rapidly blink as she attempted to take it all in. She was somewhat stunned. This was what she had wanted, yes, but now it was becoming so… real. She worried her lip as she wondered… had she done the right thing? She had acted impulsively, which was not like her. She usually took more time to ponder something over, to plan and decide all of the steps. This had seemed a good plan, a safe plan, but now she was realizing just how permanent it was. And was it fair to Miles?

  But he had suggested it — so perhaps he wanted a marriage of convenience as much as she did? She sighed, leaning her elbows on her knees and placing her head in her hands.

  He was a good man. She might never fall passionately in love with him, but she had done that once already, and look what had come of it — her, nearly ruined, while the man she had thought she would spend the rest of her life loving was now waking up with someone else.

  No, love was not important. It was about stability and finding a husband who wouldn’t interfere with how she wanted to live.

  This was for the best, she told herself as she sat up straight when Miles and her father returned.

  “Well, then,” her father said, his booming voice filling the drawing room. “My last daughter is to be married and will become Lady Gilmore. A happy day for us all.”

  Freddie smiled at her father, but then her gaze flicked to Miles. His face was as stoic as always, his shoulders set as though he had just agreed to a life sentence in Newgate. Freddie lifted her chin in an attempt to show her pleasure, despite the unease settling into her stomach.

  She took a deep breath.

  This would be fine.

  It had to be.

  * * *

  “You’re getting married?”

  Jemima’s shocked face spoke volumes. Celeste’s jaw dropped open while Rebecca wore a slight look of relief. Freddie had a feeling that Rebecca had always felt slightly guilty for marrying Val, despite the fact that the two of them were more in love than any couple Freddie had ever seen.

  “Yes,” Freddie said with a quick nod, “in three weeks’ time.”

  “Three weeks?” Celeste managed. “That is not much time at all.”

  “No,” Freddie said, swallowing her own slight panic, “but we are old enough. Might as well. And besides, if we wait too long then everyone will be in the country for the summer. I would love for you all to be there.”

  “Of course we will,” said Jemima, her blue eyes wide. “But, Freddie… you danced with him for the first time but days ago.”

  “I know,” Freddie acknowledged. “It seems rather sudden. But this is what I always wanted. And don’t forget, I have known him my entire life. It shall be fine.”

  She attempted a smile to reassure her friends. The truth was, however, she was anything but calm about the entire situation. For the more time she had to think about it, the more anxious she became.

  What would it be like to be someone’s wife? Even if they remained primarily friends, they would be managing a household together, would share a bed some nights, perhaps have children together one day. She nearly lost her breath at the thought. Instead of being filled solely with worry, however, she also found herself overtaken with nervous excitement. Which was strange. Had she been asked before, she wasn’t sure if she would have said she had any attraction to Miles. He was good looking, to be sure, but his stoicism gave him such a serious countenance that she had never actually considered him much at all.

  Now that she thought of being with him, however, a tingle coursed through her — one that started at her toes and raced up her body. What would it be like, she wondered, to be with one another? To kiss him? To—

  “Freddie?”

  Her attention returned to the room with a jolt.

  “Yes?” she said quickly.

  “Will you need any help finding a dress? Choosing flowers? Planning the wedding breakfast?”

  Celeste was becoming excited at the prospect now, while Jemima looked a little green at the topic. Rebecca simply smiled demurely.

  Freddie chuckled.

  “Thank you, but I think my mother has it all well in hand. Though I may solicit some help in choosing a dress. As much as I love the beauty of lace and adornments, if it were up to my mother I would be covered in so much fabric and ornamentation I would resemble a decorated banquet table.”

  “That we can do,” Rebecca said, and Freddie smiled her thanks.

  “Did you speak to him about your work?” Jemima asked, and Freddie nodded.

  “He did not protest at all, though he seemed a bit apprehensive,” she said with a shrug.

  “How soon did you bring it up?” Jemima asked shrewdly. “Maybe he realized that was why you were marrying him.”

  That hadn’t really occurred to Freddie, though it should have. Miles was no fool. She hadn’t been overly complimentary of him besides telling him that she was looking for someone who would appreciate her for who she was, provide for her, and be friends with her. He had still asked her to marry him, so she had assumed that he was looking for the same sort of partnership. Perhaps she needed to put more thought into her words and interactions with him.

  “You’re right,” she said. “I shall make sure he knows that there will be more to our marriage than completely separate lives. That I look forward to being with my friend if nothing else.”

  “That might help,” Rebecca said, though she looked dubious. But Freddie couldn’t help that she would never have a marriage like Rebecca’s — one that was centered around the love the two of them shared more than anything else.

  “There’s nothing to worry about,” Freddie said, hoping she sounded surer than she felt. “All will be fine. I know what I’m doing.”

  If only that were the truth.

  5

  Had anyone ever devised a carriage with a trap door in it so that when one needed to escape, there was an easy way out? Freddie hoped not. For she wondered if Miles would currently be considering using such an option.

  She had insisted that they arrive well ahead of schedule. Freddie despised it when brides were late to their own weddings. What was the point of making everyone else wait? All it did was show disregard for the worth of their time. Her father had chuckled at her when she had called upstairs for him to hurry up, but he knew how important it was to her to arrive when scheduled.

  Except once they arrived, she realized that Miles was not yet there. She couldn’t se
e his carriage anywhere, and she urged her parents to disembark first, asking her father to return with an update.

  “He’s not here just yet, Fred,” he said upon his return, using his pet name for her. “I’m sure he’s running behind just slightly. He’ll be here any moment.”

  He hefted his rather rotund body into the seat across from her, his smile more forced than Freddie would have liked.

  “You’re just saying that to appease me,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him, and his cheeks slightly reddened even as he shook his head vigorously. Too vigorously.

  “Of course not!” he insisted, but Freddie knew her father far better than that. He was a good man, one who had sired three daughters and had never once made any of them feel as though he would have preferred a son — despite the fact that it meant his title would go to their cousin Peter. So be it, her father had always said, for Peter was a good enough man and already had two sons of his own.

  Freddie sighed, tilting her head back to rest it on the squab behind her, but remembering at the last moment that if she did so, she would destroy the intricate chignon her maid had fashioned.

  “What if he doesn’t come?” she asked nervously, tapping her foot on the floor of the carriage. “I would be a laughingstock.”

  The truth was, she had been fearful of this far before they had arrived at the church. Since the day of their walk and betrothal, Miles had not called at all, though his mother had visited quite often to help decide on wedding details. She told Freddie that Miles was seeing to matters out in the country before their wedding day and that he could hardly wait until they were wed.

  Freddie wasn’t so sure, as it seemed that her former fears were coming true.

  In a way, maybe this was for the best. For there were things about her that she hadn’t told him — things that a future husband should likely know. Only, had she shared her secret, he would have turned her away. It made her feel a fraud to have deceived him, but perhaps he would never need to know.