Page 5 of Avoiding the Merry Viscount
“They need you. I’m doing the best I can. But I’m not enough,” Elias choked.
“I know, son,” his father said, running his hand down his face. “I ask too much of you. But I don’t know how to live in a world where your mother doesn’t. I know I must find a way to carry on for you and your sisters.” His father closed his eyes and wiped his cheeks again. “Have a bath sent up for me. I will join you for Christmas Eve dinner after I have bathed and dressed.”
His father was true to his word and emerged from his bedchamber looking every bit the aristocratic earl, even if his red, puffy eyes told of his pain. Diana and Jenny ran to him and hugged his legs when he appeared, and to Elias’s surprise, his father’s eyes welled, but he kept any tears from falling.
They had a somewhat quiet dinner. Conversation was painful and awkward, but they all did their best to carry on. It wasn’t conventional or fashionable, but Lady Onslow continued to hold Grace throughout dinner, while Jenny sat in a chair beside her. She said it didn’t seem right to send the girls away to the nursery on Christmas Eve. Elias knew if his mother were there, she wouldn’t have sent them away either.
Once she finished eating, Jenny jumped down from her chair and ran to their father, who picked her up and put her in his lap. It didn’t go unnoticed by Elias that his father left his meal untouched, and he knew he’d need to ensure his father remedied his lack of appetite soon. He was almost certain the man hadn’t eaten a single bite of food since they’d lost her.
After dinner, they all moved to the drawing room. Lady Onslow played the pianoforte and led the group in a couple of carols. Elias watched the expressions of his sisters and was glad that, for even amoment, they experienced a bit of joy to overcome the sadness that awaited them in the days ahead.
Papa hobbled away from the group to stand by the fire, staring at the candle that was lit on the mantle. They had lit it in memory of Elias’s mother, so a part of her might be with them that evening.
She would have made Christmas morning a grand affair, always giving each of them a special gift with a handwritten note. Not that Elias would ever admit it to anyone, but the note from his mother had always been his favorite gift every year. And his heart broke all over again at the realization that he’d never receive one from her again.
Before he became emotional in front of the entire room, Elias moved to stand next to his father, their shoulders almost touching. Elias clasped his hands behind his back, drawing a deep breath as he stared into the fire, attempting to push aside all of his pain to be strong for his father and sisters.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his father’s head turn, so he turned his to meet his father’s gaze. The pain and misery in his father’s eyes from the unimaginable loss shone through, heavier than it had in the last couple of days. At that moment, witnessing the grief that threatened to crush his father beneath it, Elias knew. He’d never allow himself to fall in love. Love would hold no place in his future.
Chapter One
Lydia
London, England
April 1811
12 years later
Miss Lydia Cary,only daughter of Viscount Cary, pressed herself against the brick wall at the corner of Berkeley Square, her pulse racing frantically. The late afternoon sun hung low in the gray London sky, casting long shadows between the elegant townhouses and providing perfect cover for what she had planned.
I am quite mad, she decided. A well-bred young lady simply did not sneak from her family’s townhouse to visit a gentleman unchaperoned. But then again, a well-bred young lady probably didn’t burn with the same restless curiosity that had plagued Lydia for days.
It was Clint’s fault, really. Her cheeks heated at the use of his given name, even if it wasn’t the most scandalous impropriety she’d experienced with the man. He’d been so charming during their quiet courtship, so different from the other stuffy gentlemen who’d paid court to her. But he’d always been a charmer. His family’s estate was located near hers, so their families had known each other for as long as she could remember.
He’d always been flirtatious toward her, but then everything had changed when she’d become of marrying age. Lydia appreciated how he didn’t make a big show of courting her, instead doting his charms on her, whispering intimate words of desire and longing. It stirredthings in her that were wanton to say the least.
She had every intention of marrying the man, and he was hardly a stranger, so surely she could be forgiven for allowing his hands between her thighs. And that she had also learned what lay in wait between his. Clint had tempted and teased her, introducing her to an intense pleasure that she’d never known was possible. He told her it was only a taste of what awaited them.
After that encounter, where she could no longer claim that her hands were innocent, she informed her father that she would only marry Clint.
And regardless of what kind of wanton it made her, all she could think about was the pleasure that Clint had given her. She longed to explore the sensations further, to understand what it meant to desire and experience her future husband so completely. And with their betrothal announcement approaching soon, surely it hardly mattered if she waited until their wedding night to be with him in that way.
At least, that’s what she’d told herself when she’d slipped from her family’s townhouse three streets away, claiming a sudden headache that required her to rest in her chamber. Her maid, Tilly, was visiting her sister for the afternoon, and her parents were receiving callers in the front parlor—she could hear the Duchess of Marlborough’s distinctive laugh echoing through the halls. The timing was perfect.
Lydia straightened her bonnet and smoothed her skirts, though her hands were unsteady. Clint’s townhouse loomed just across the square, its imposing façade both welcoming and intimidating. She had never visited his London home, as that would be entirely improper. But she would surprise him and show him how much she wanted the things that he promised.
Drawing a breath that did little to calm her nerves, she crossed the square with quick, determined steps, resolved in what she’d set out to do.
Rather than approach the front entrance where she would surelybe seen and announced, Lydia made her way to the side of the house, and located the servants’ entrance. Her heart hammered in her chest as she tested the door handle, finding it unlocked, just as she expected.
She slipped inside what appeared to be a narrow corridor leading from the kitchen quarters. The scent of roasting meat and fresh bread reached her and made her regret that she’d skipped luncheon. Her stomach had been in knots as she’d worked out her plans, and she couldn’t get herself to sit still long enough to eat a single bite.
Moving as quietly as she could, Lydia made her way through the servants’ passages, hoping to find stairs that would lead to where Clint’s study would likely be located. It couldn’t be too difficult to find, since most townhouses followed a similar layout.
Then she realized that she hadn’t considered what she would do if he weren’t home. Wait for him? She supposed that was all she could do. It would be devastating to have come so far only to leave feeling silly and unsatisfied. But she would press on and decide what to do if she must. With any luck, he’d be where she hoped to find him, and that would be that.
After what felt like an eternity of navigating the corridors, she found a narrow staircase and climbed carefully, listening for any sounds that might indicate approaching servants. At the top, she discovered a door that opened into what was clearly the main part of the house.
