The Kiss of a Viscount (The Daughters of the Aristocracy) (2 page)

Lifting her head so that she could look at George’s face, Josephine pushed his shoulders gently and then cupped one cheek with a hand. “I am so very sorry for your loss ...
my lord
,” she whispered, remembering to add his new title at the last moment.

George sucked his next breath through clenched teeth, bristling at her use of the title. “Josie,
please
, do not call me that,” he murmured, his voice indicating his revulsion. It was one thing to wake up to find you were a viscount. It was quite another to deal with the everyday consequences. He was not yet ready to deal with those, even if one of them was as trivial as the addition of a title to his name.

“Come. Let’s have some tea,” she urged, moving her body away from his and grabbing his hand. She kissed the palm as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and allowed himself to be led to the parlor. A list of things to do in the event of a peer’s death filled her head. “Do you need assistance with the arrangements?” she asked quietly as she took a seat on a chaise. She expected George to take an adjacent chair; instead he sat between her and the arm of the chaise, keeping one of his arms wrapped around her waist. Josephine considered protesting, but thought better of it when she realized she was holding his body upright. If she moved away, he would simply topple over.

“Peters is seeing to most of it,” George replied, referring to his uncle’s manager. “I’ve asked him to stay on until I can learn whatever it is I need to know. Even then, I may need to keep him on to manage the Sussex properties whilst I’m in town. Given Uncle’s tight fisted ways, I am sure they are all in need of repair. In the meantime, the townhouse here in Mayfair needs a good deal of work. I’ll hire someone to oversee the remodel as soon as possible.”

Josephine wondered what the ‘learning’ would involve in the case of the Bostwick viscountcy. Estate management, no doubt – George’s uncle held lands in Sussex in which there were several coal mines and a country manor house near Chichester. He also owned a townhouse in Park Lane that was truly in dire need of a remodel. But what about the politics? George was a viscount now, which meant he was a member of Parliament. He would need to be briefed on the current issues. “So, you’ll be leaving for Sussex then?” she wondered, allowing her head to lean against his shoulder.

“Not for a few months. I ... I’ll spend the summer there and be back in London in the fall. For Parliament. The townhouse should be ready to occupy by then.” He paused a moment to kiss the top of her head. “You’ll come with me, of course,” he stated, not making it an invitation.

Josephine inhaled sharply, a bit surprised by the overture. There had only been one other time when he had
expected
her to join him on a trip. That had been very early in their relationship. They’d been the only ‘family’ in residence at the country estate for an entire fortnight, spending their days riding and walking the lands around the manor house and their nights sharing a bedchamber. She wondered for a long time why he felt it necessary to take that trip, supposing at the time that it was merely a whim of George’s. His uncle had been quite strict with him back then, forbidding him to frequent gaming hells or brothels, and limiting his allowance to ensure he complied. He instead encouraged George to learn how to fence and shoot guns, pursuits that did not cost a great deal of money. After a few years, Josephine realized why.

Joseph Bennett-Jones was a miser.

His one expenditure with respect to George, beyond the costs of sending his nephew to Eton and then to Cambridge for his education, had been to pay for a mistress.

“Are you ... certain?” Josephine wondered, her voice barely a whisper. She’d been to the country manor house a few times when he had extended invitations for her to join him. On those occasions, she was free to roam the estate when his uncle wasn’t hosting visitors. She rather enjoyed long walks or a ride on horseback over the rolling hills and next to the forests that surrounded the home. Otherwise, she would be sequestered in a suite of rooms she shared with George in a wing on the second floor, her presence unknown to anyone but George, his uncle and a few members of the household staff.

“I’ll die of boredom if you are not there. Although,” he paused for a moment as if an idea had just formed, “Now that I have access to a good deal of money, I suppose I can finally see to it some things are changed down there. Better housing for the miners, more money for the orphanage, replace the roof on the church. That sort of thing.” He took a deep breath, nodding as he did so. Then his eyebrows cocked up. “And besides, I have to have someone bring me up to snuff on what’s been going on with the government,” he stated, his lips curving a bit to indicate the worst of his mournful thoughts had passed.

Josephine smiled. She followed all the news from Parliament, subscribed to three newspapers, and was always aware of current events and applicable gossip where she could find it. If anyone could educate George on the current situation in Parliament, it was she.

George quickly sobered again, though. “Marry me, Josie,” he spoke as he squeezed one of her hands between both of his. “Please.”

Her back straightening with the familiar request, Josephine turned to look him in the eyes. “George. You know I cannot. I am your
mistress
. And five years your senior. You must marry a woman who can give you an heir,” she explained patiently.

She’d given him the same excuses the other four times he’d asked her to marry him over the years. There had been only one of those times when she was tempted to accept his offer, and then only because she thought she carried his child. Although she was merely late with her monthly courses, the situation had made her realize many things. George’s insistence on keeping her for so many years made her believe she was his first and only lover. But her life as a mistress had convinced her she did not want to give up the freedom she enjoyed while being his mistress, and she did not want a child with him. She had other plans for her future, a future that involved a different man. If that man from her past still wanted her as his wife, as he claimed in every missive she received from him over the years, then she would agree to a marriage once she was sure the man had made his way in the world.

“Must I?” George countered, his hang-dog expression returning.

Josephine gave him a wan smile as she nodded. “When we get to the country, we have some work to do,” she murmured, her smoky green eyes turning quite serious. At his cocked eyebrow and quizzical expression, she added, “To get you ready for the Little Season, and for courting a lady of the
ton
.” She did not immediately clarify what her intentions were, but his change in status meant many things, including a change to the way he interacted with the eligible females of the
ton
. Given his age and his need to start his nursery soon, he would have to find a wife – the sooner, the better. After so many years with the same mistress, George had become somewhat lax in his attitude toward women, not taking the time to learn much about the few already in his life – their lives, their families, their hopes, their dreams. He needed to learn a bit more about members of the opposite sex if he had any hope of landing a wife suitable to his new station in life.

And it meant Josephine needed to teach him how to please a woman in bed – and out of it – to ensure he wasn’t cuckolded by his new wife. He was adequate in bed, she had to admit, but there were subtleties he lacked in the way he used his eyes, the way he used his voice to flirt. He was impatient in his foreplay. And the pressure of his touch against feminine skin was perhaps a bit too bold when he was aroused.

Swallowing hard, George finally nodded. “Promise me something, then, Josie,” he whispered, moving one hand to rest on the back of her waist. At her wary nod, he said, “You’ll remain my best friend until the day I die.”

Josephine Wentworth regarded her lover for several moments before leaning over to kiss his cheek.
Such a simple request, and so easy to grant.
“Until the day I die,” she agreed, a grin appearing before she kissed him again.

Chapter 3
An Earl Meets a Lady

June 1815

Lady Elizabeth Carlington met the Earl of Trenton at the last ball of the Season. Upon seeing her descend the stairs into the elegant ballroom, Gabriel Wellingham, Earl of Trenton, walked very quickly to stand directly in her path, bowed over her hand (which he had to reach out to retrieve from her side because she was caught by surprise and hadn’t yet offered it), and kissed it. Before Elizabeth could curtsy in return, a maneuver made almost impossible given she was still standing on the last step and there was no room to do so, Gabriel asked if he might reserve a dance.

Her dance card wasn’t even secured about her wrist!

Lady Elizabeth almost agreed. How could she refuse the unmarried earl, whose blonde curly hair, sky blue eyes and handsome features made so many of the debutantes in attendance flutter their lashes and nearly swoon in his presence? But she had watched him execute the same maneuver with another chit only moments before from her vantage point at the top of the stairs, so she decided it would be better to learn a bit more about the earl before she allowed him a dance.

Gabriel was quite attentive at that last ball of the Season, especially after the more formal introductions were made by one of her young, married friends. Once he heard she was the daughter of the Marquess of Morganfield, his face lit up with what might have been recognition.

A more cynical sort would have recognized the look for what it was.

Predatory
.

“Lady Elizabeth, it is truly an honor to make your acquaintance,” he said, bowing over her gloved hand and once again brushing his lips over the back of her knuckles.

“And yours, my lord,” she replied, a bit cool in her response. The fan she held in her left hand fluttered twice before she snapped it shut, all the while holding his gaze with her own. “Have you just arrived in town?” She hadn’t seen him at any of the balls or soirées held during the spring. Perhaps he was new to his title.

“Only last week, my lady,” he confirmed with a nod. “I inherited the Trenton earldom last year upon my father’s death.” At Elizabeth’s appropriate look of sadness, he added, “I have been in mourning, of course. I held off visiting London until my solicitor required my presence here.” The words were delivered without inflection, suggesting his mourning period was truly over, if indeed he had ever really mourned the passing of his father.

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Elizabeth replied with a solemn nod. She had heard of the Trenton earldom – knew it to be one of the wealthier titles in Great Britain. And then she remembered how he had hurried to the base of the stairs when she was making her way to the ballroom floor. He had sought out
her
. Or found her appearance pleasing enough that he would make a spectacle of himself in front of Lord Esterly’s guests – not just once, but several times. Thinking that he spoke with good diction, knew his manners and was quite possibly the most beautiful man she had ever met, Elizabeth decided she could bestow her best smile on him. “I do hope you find your stay here satisfactory.”

The earl allowed his gaze to boldly sweep over her from her head to her toe. “I already have, my lady,” he answered, his brow cocking in such a manner as to suggest he had found
her
to be the reason for his satisfaction. “The sight of so many beautiful women in one room is almost too much to bear.”

A bit shocked that Gabriel Wellingham would be so bold, both with his words and his rakish manner, Elizabeth held her face as impassive as possible. He was too handsome and might be a bounder, she decided, her own head leaning to one side as she considered whether or not to introduce him to her best friends. “Are there other traits you find too much to bear in a woman, my lord?” she teased, wondering if her comment would cause him to blush or if he would list his proclivities.

Gabriel straightened and placed the palm of one hand against his chest, as if he’d suffered the cut direct. His face brightened. “Why, Lady Elizabeth, your boldness is not one of them,” he answered with a huge grin. “Either you are testing me or you are teasing me, but I find I am not the least bit offended by either.“

Her mouth forming a perfect ‘o’, Elizabeth realized too late that the earl was not the stuffy, overbearing sort she expected.

He had a sense of humor.

“I was teasing, of course,” she answered with a tap of her fan against his arm. “But my question remains unanswered.”

The earl regarded her with a calculating grin and finally sighed. “I do not care for dishonesty, gossip or cleverness in women, but then, I do not tolerate them from those of my sex either,” he said, his face taking on a more serious expression.

Elizabeth sensed the change in him even before she heard his words. She found herself wondering if this was the man she would marry before Christmastime. “Well said, my lord,” she agreed, giving Gabriel a nod.

“Said well enough that you might now grant me a dance this evening?” he countered, his expression remaining serious.

Apparently her earlier refusal had bruised his ego.

For a moment, Elizabeth wondered at the change in his mood. She hadn’t meant for her teasing to leave him in ill humor. She lifted the wrist from which her dance card dangled. “I believe I have an unclaimed quadrille here,” she suggested, taking her eyes off his in order to search for the blank on the pasteboard. She found a line on which there was no name scribbled. “Here ’tis,” she offered, holding the card out to him. He gave her a nod and took up the small pencil attached to the card. He wrote ‘Gabriel’ on the one blank line. “Thank you, Lady Elizabeth,” he said in a voice that indicated he was dismissing her. “I shall find you when it is my turn,” he added, bowing deeply.

Elizabeth curtsied in return and watched the earl take his leave.

There was definitely an attraction there, she was sure, enough so that she decided not to search for Lady Hannah and offer an introduction to her. Although Hannah was a beauty in her own right, her porcelain complexion, dark eyes, rosebud lips and platinum blonde hair making her look like a delicate doll or a fairy princess, the younger woman had a rather odd attitude when it came to considering potential husbands. With her other friend, Lady Charlotte, already betrothed to the Earl of Grinstead, there was no point in arranging an introduction to her, at least not until Elizabeth had spent enough time with Gabriel to determine if his friendship would be worth the effort.

The earl’s mood was considerably lighter when he came to claim her for the quadrille. They danced, but due to the intricacies of the quadrille, they weren’t able to exchange more than a few snippets of conversation. Once they parted company, Elizabeth rather hoped the earl would decide to spend part of the summer in town; perhaps they would see one another whilst shopping or in Hyde Park.

Later that week, she learned from Lady Charlotte that the earl had returned to Staffordshire the day after the ball. Disappointed but determined that they would renew their acquaintance during the Little Season, Elizabeth put thoughts of marriage and the Earl of Trenton on hold for the summer. Instead, she concentrated her attention on a far worthier pursuit.

Charity.