How to Train a Viscount Read online

  She removed a piece of paper from her bag. The McIntyre seal gleamed on the cream-colored paper. “My brother anticipated you might be wary of the purchase. This letter should make his intentions clear.”

  The solicitor put on his pince-nez again and surveyed the letter. “Ah, it is essentially an investment property he is allowing you to select.”

  “Indeed.” Isla composed her face into a placid expression.

  “Nothing like a woman’s good taste,” the solicitor said cheerfully.

  Isla gave a stiff smile.

  Purchasing a property in Brighton was a good investment. The Prince Regent spent more and more time there, especially after his father’s health had improved. People had gotten over their initial bewilderment at the Pavilion’s architecture, which stole liberally from the Taj Mahal, rather than restraining its copying to Grecian temples, which were deemed appropriate.

  “You’ve had quite the allowance these past few years,” the solicitor said, turning a page. “I never thought you would be a spinster.”

  Isla stiffened. The word grated against her sensibilities.

  And yet... She was twenty-five.

  She was unmarried with no prospects. Though she told herself she could acquire a husband with ease, since she was the only sibling of an earl and the agreeableness of her appearance had not shifted, perhaps she was mistaken.

  Perhaps the reason she’d convinced her brother to let her have a cottage instead of a season had been because he presumed the pursuit of a husband to be pointless. When he’d attempted to matchmake for her at Christmas, the prospect he’d chosen had been disastrous.

  Men weren’t dying on the Iberian Peninsula anymore. They didn’t require a hasty marriage to secure an heir and ensure their mother and siblings would not be forced from an estate should they have a violent encounter with a saber. They could be selective when choosing a wife.

  Most men desired young wives who could overlook their faults. Older women were less desirable. They especially didn’t want to marry older women who’d been previously engaged, lest any chaperones should have been lax.

  Callum had never been a love match, and she was relieved to be free.

  The solicitor raised his gaze. “This is a large purchase, and I do not feel comfortable approving this. I will have to speak to your brother about this in person.”

  “He’s not in the country,” Isla said.

  “Then you must wait,” the solicitor said with the patient calm only found in a man utterly unconvinced of the need for haste.

  “Mr. Barrows, the purchase is pre-authorized,” Isla reminded him. “Truly, I don’t understand the point of paying a solicitor who seems intent on delaying business arrangements.”

  “The point is to serve your brother’s interests. You have a reputation, Lady Isla.”

  Isla stiffened.

  “If you can give me a letter verifying this specific property, we can go ahead,” Mr. Barrows said.

  “You know that’s impossible.”

  Mr. Barrows shrugged. “I trust you are residing in your brother’s townhouse in London in the meantime?”

  “I’ve rented rooms on the seafront in Brighton.”

  “How adventurous,” he said, with a glance that contained no signs of approval.

  It didn’t matter.

  She was accustomed to the solicitor’s grumblings about money.

  “Then you can wait until your brother returns,” Mr. Barrows said.

  “But the property—” Isla said.

  “—will still be there,” the solicitor said.

  “But someone else might buy it,” Isla said.

  The property was perfect. It was in the heart of Brighton.

  “My dear, the coast is filled with properties, most of which are in quieter regions, where you are less likely to get into trouble.”

  Isla stiffened.

  “I have always been partial to Norfolk,” the solicitor continued. “The area is most beautiful, and some regions do not even have cliffs that a woman might unwittingly topple over.”

  “I’ve mastered the art of walking.” Isla rose sharply.

  She needed to leave. If she didn’t leave, she might tell him precisely what she thought of him, and that was an impossibility. She did not wait for him to finish tottering to a stand so he could give her a bow, before she swept into a curtsy and left the room.

  She marched from his office. A few people gazed at her, and she remembered to compose her facial expression into something mimicking placidness.

  Miss Grant sprang from her seat. “I trust the meeting went well, Lady Isla?”

  “It seems our time in our suite of rooms will be prolonged.” Isla gazed back at Mr. Barrows’ office and raised her voice. “Unnecessarily so.”

  Her companion gave a tight smile. “What an unexpected pleasure.”

  Isla stifled a laugh at Miss Grant’s forced enthusiasm. Though Miss Grant was excellent at offering suggestions on how to best prolong life in a virtuous manner, she was less inclined to make suggestions on how to enjoy it.

  Isla knew Miss Grant would favor the comfort of the grand townhome. After all, it had an abundant number of rooms. Once Isla owned the townhome, perhaps her brother and his wife might visit with frequency. Brighton was a convenient stop on the way to Guernsey.

  The driver assisted them into the carriage, and they soon headed away from Mr. Barrows’ office and its unpleasantness.

  The journey to her apartment was short, but when they arrived at her building, the pavement was filled with servants carrying large packages. Mrs. Hollins, Isla’s upstairs neighbor, gave instructions.

  Mrs. Hollins’ face paled, but then Isla approached her, and her neighbor darted a smile in her direction. “Good afternoon, Lady Isla.”

  “Are you having a party?”

  “Er—yes, indeed.” Mrs. Hollins paused and then frowned. “Are you joining us tonight?”

  “Tonight?” Isla felt her eyes widen. “It’s short notice.”

  “I—er—gave the invitation earlier. I don’t remember an answer from you.” She glanced at her housekeeper. “Do you remember an answer?”

  Her housekeeper shook her head. “I sent out all the invitations. Lady Isla was not on the list of—”

  Mrs. Hollins coughed. “Oh, dear. I’m afraid I’m coming down with a cold. How dreadful! Such revolting timing.” She turned to her housekeeper. “Will you please send me down some hot water and lemon? Talking is rather expected at these events. Such a bore.”

  The housekeeper left obediently, and Isla decided not to mention that Mrs. Hollins seemed to have no problems talking now.

  “But you must come.” Mrs. Hollins flashed a smile. “In fact, is your brother visiting?”

  Isla shook her head. So far, he hadn’t visited her once.

  “Oh, such a pity,” Mrs. Hollins said. “Then come by yourself. It will be quite—er—modern.” She beamed. “The Regent would approve.”

  Isla expressed her thanks and left. Her heart thrummed, excited at the possibility of a party. Perhaps Brighton was not dull after all.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Thabisa scampered over the deck of The Princess Sapphire. She was still refining her clambering skills, and Adam strode behind her, lest she make an impromptu decision to investigate the merits of ledge balancing.

  “Good girl,” he said. “You’re doing a good job.”

  A sailor snorted. “The waves are calmer. That probably helps.”

  “Oh.” Adam frowned. “Are we close?”

  “We’ll be there in an hour.” The sailor beamed, and Adam forced himself to smile. He’d always been a terrible liar on the few occasions he’d attempted to lie as a child, and he refrained from meeting the sailor’s eyes.

  It occurred to him, not for the first time, that he had nowhere to go when he arrived. Thabisa made her way toward him and tugged at his leg.

  He picked her up. Vervet monkeys were probably unusual in Britain. Adam might never have bee
n to England, but he’d met Englishmen, newly arrived to the colonies, and he was familiar with the paragraphs-long soliloquies praising the general coldness and wetness and windiness of English weather. Personally, Adam did not find coldness enticing.

  Nervousness shot through him. His mother had extolled the merits of Britain, regretting leaving the country, but his father never had. Had his father abstained from those sentiments because of pride, or had he been relieved to leave Britain?

  “It’s England!” a sailor shouted from the top of the mast, and soon the other sailors cheered. Thabisa squealed, joining in the excitement, to the sailors’ delight, but Adam found himself silent. A lump formed in his throat, and he squinted into the distance.

  He had less confidence than the sailors. The sea, though, calmed, and gradually he discerned chalky cliffs.

  England.

  “You must be happy to be back,” another sailor said.

  “Er—yes.”

  The sailor gave him a curious look Adam hoped would not be followed with a question.

  Adam’s parents might have been British, but Adam had never set foot in Britain. Randall, though, had spent time in England as a child.

  No matter.

  Adam had escaped the Cape Colony. No man with a knife chased after him. Soon he could find work, and no one would know he’d ever pretended to be a viscount.

  It was all perfect.

  The sailors lowered the sails as the ship glided toward the town. Cream-colored homes glistened in the distance, visible between the gray sky and the gray ocean.

  The red-bearded captain approached him. “It has been an honor to have you on board, My Lord.”

  “Er—thank you, Captain Fergus,” Adam said.

  “I only wish you’d been in better ‘ealth and could ‘ave joined me for meals more often.”

  “Aristocratic stomach,” Adam said hastily.

  “Ah, yes.” The captain nodded. “I will escort you into town personally.”

  “That’s not necessary,” Adam said, his voice weak, as if the captain had decided to wrap one of the large sails around his throat rather than around the masts.

  “Tommy-rot, My Lord. We at The Sapphire Princess take care of our guests.” The man stroked his beard. “In fact, I’ll introduce you to some of the aristocrats. Fine folks they are.”

  “You can?” Adam forced himself to retain a placid, disinterested expression that would neither reveal his discomfiture with the thought of being introduced to local aristocrats as a viscount or at his wonder the captain would be acquainted with such people.

  Despite the captain’s favorable qualities, the captain seemed an unlikely person to socialize with noblemen. Some of the sailors whispered that the captain had been a pirate.

  “Reckon I could introduce you to the Duke of Belmonte.” The captain’s eyes gleamed. “He’s even dined with Mad King George.”

  “A duke?” Adam gave an unmanly squeak. “I mean, you said the Duke of Belmonte?” Adam attempted to feign interest in the name, when the fact the captain could introduce him to a duke more than sufficed in importance.

  “Yep.” The captain nodded vigorously, and his red hair glinted with greater force. “It’s always good to see the duke. You’ll be wanting to meet ‘im. He’s got a townhouse in Brighton. Reckon he goes to all sorts of fancy balls now or whatever it is you fancy folk like to do.”

  “Er—splendid.” Adam urged his lips into a polite smile, and even though he’d become accustomed to the waves several weeks ago, and even though the waves were less volatile, he clasped onto the side of the ship.

  Thabisa squeaked, sensing his nervousness, and he stroked her, glad to attempt to focus his attention on something besides the captain’s ominous words.

  Unfortunately, the task was impossible. The captain’s words roared through his mind. The captain knew a duke and he wanted to introduce Adam to him.

  “I’ll take you straight there,” the captain promised.

  “I wouldn’t want to impose on his lordship,” Adam said.

  The captain’s eyes narrowed, as if Adam had said something wrong.

  “It won’t be an imposition,” the captain said finally. “I always see the duke when I return. It’s ‘is ship.”

  “Oh.” Adam blinked, and relief swept through him. Of course the captain and the duke wouldn’t be friends. Dukes were mystical beings who resided in castles and dined on decadent desserts. “I see he takes a personal interest in his investments.”

  “Can’t slip much past the duke. His wife had us all fooled once. That was when she was still pretending to be a man,” the captain said in an explanatory tone that really shouldn’t be used with such a statement. “But the duke, ‘e knew, even though none of the rest of us crew suspected.”

  “The duke used to captain this ship?”

  “Yep,” the captain said. “Though we didn’t know ‘e were so proper then.”

  Adam suspected the captain wasn’t telling everything, but learning more about the Duke of Belmonte and his ability to see through disguises was not Adam’s chief concern. The story sufficed in horribleness. He needed to remove himself soon from the captain and his sudden impulse toward hospitality.

  Adam wasn’t a viscount, even if he’d pretended to be one to flee the Cape Colony. Perhaps the burly, coarse captain, had been fooled, but most people would easily see through his charade. He’d had little education, and unlike Randall, who’d actually lived in Britain and quoted Latin and wore fancy perfume, Adam knew only India and the Cape Colony.

  “I can’t meet the duke,” Adam said.

  The captain furrowed his brow, but then he sighed. “I know why.”

  “You do?” Adam squeaked.

  The captain nodded. “I should have known.”

  “Oh?” Adam cleared his throat, as if the sound might mask any earlier uncertainty in his voice.

  “Don’t you worry,” the captain said. “I’ll see to it that you get some good clothes. It’s a shame there was that confusion with your luggage and the person who booked your ticket didn’t deliver your trunks as you supposed.”

  “Er—yes.” Adam’s skin must be a ruddier color now after hearing the lie. It had been the first thing he’d thought of when the captain had noticed after a week that he hadn’t changed his clothes.

  “They must be on the next ship,” the captain said reassuredly.

  “Er—yes.”

  “I’ll make certain the ship is aware the extra trunks they have belong to you. I’ll be in Brighton for the next month, so I’ll be able to see to it personally.”

  “Thank you,” Adam said.

  He didn’t want to imagine the conversation Captain Fergus would have with the next captain. Perhaps the news would already be out in the Cape Colony that Randall had been killed. The Cape Colony wasn’t large.

  It didn’t matter.

  No one except him knew Randall had become a viscount, and there was no reason anyone should realize someone of such importance had been murdered. Unfortunately, crime was rampant.

  It will be fine. Definitely, fine.

  Adam inhaled, conscious his heart still trounced and thrashed, behaving nothing like the cool, consistent thing it should be, given its years of practice.

  The captain studied him, and Adam relaxed his grip from the rail. “You truly don’t like the sea.”

  “No,” Adam replied, even though he’d never possessed any previous abhorrence. In fact, he would have lauded the often soothing sounds of its waves and the manner in which light on occasion played on its surface.

  “Well, good thing we’ve arrived,” the captain said cheerfully.

  Adam blinked. The buildings in Brighton remained small, as if they belonged to a child’s toy collection. “But we haven’t arrived yet.”

  “Brighton doesn’t have a port. But don’t worry. We’ll take a shore boat,” the captain said.

  “That’s nice,” Adam said.

  “Course it is,” the captain said, lead
ing him to a small boat. “Climb in. Jerry will row us.”

  Adam grabbed Thabisa and climbed into the boat. Captain Fergus and Jerry followed. The sailors lowered the boat into the water, and Adam was conscious he might have escaped from the Cape Colony, but he hadn’t found a way to escape his new identity.

  It did not take Adam long to realize that England was wet and damp and terrible. The sky and sea were gray, as if someone had forgotten to put in colors when they created this island.

  Unfortunately, they had not forgotten the wind.

  It blustered, and even roared, as it collided with exquisite facades on exquisite buildings.

  His heart thudded.

  “My,” the captain said. “Just focus on the shore. We’ll be in England soon.”

  “I’m happy,” Adam said hurriedly. “This is very nice. Most splendid. Definitely.”

  The captain scrunched his lips together. “When was the last time you was ‘ere?”

  Adam frowned, striving to remember what Randall had said. “It’s—er—been a while.”

  “Hmph.” The captain continued to assess him. “You’ve got people to go to?”

  Adam hesitated, but then the captain sighed. “Of course not. You inherited. That means all your family died, right? At least the older male ones.”

  “Er—yes,” Adam said.

  The captain shook his head. “I should ‘ave known. No wonder you’re bewildered. I remember when I first came to England after decades being gone. It was awfully strange. I reckon you’ve gotta go see some fancy London solicitor to show him your papers?”

  Adam nodded.

  “That’s what the duke ‘ad to do. Now, he really didn’t want to go back.” The captain shrugged. “But ‘e was in love and that ‘elped. Reckon you don’t have some lover tucked away somewhere?”

  Adam shook his head.

  “Oh, golly. Well, I reckon I really gotta ‘elp you now. You’re giving me tears in my eyes.”

  “I’m sorry!”

  “Not your fault,” the captain said philosophically as the shore boat touched the land. The captain rose and stretched out his hand. “Now let’s get you to land.”