The Viscount in Hiding, page 2
part #1 of Lords of London Series
Walking out towards the French doors and the terrace, William kept his eyes fixed on the doors rather than on any of the guests who might try to catch his eye. He had no desire to dance as yet and certainly not with a dark-haired young lady who had a hundred questions for him, prying into his life in a most irritating manner.
“And I do not even recall her name,” he muttered to himself, as he drew closer to the doors. Balling up his fists in frustration, he tried to make his way through a rather tightly packed crowd of ladies and let out one long, frustrated breath as he finally managed it. He hated being here.
Many hours later, William dragged himself from the card room, aware that he drank far more than he ought to have. It was, of course, the consequence of being so heartily ashamed of himself that he could think of nothing else to do for, even in the card room, various gentlemen had found it rather amusing to mock him for the loss of Miss Stanway, questioning whether he had ever truly known what a broken heart was.
That question had stung more than he had allowed them to know, for the truth was, he had very little idea as to what a broken heart felt like. He felt no pain in Miss Stanway’s marriage to Lord Radcliffe, which told him that he had never once truly loved another living soul in his life before.
“Is everything prepared for tomorrow?” he asked, the moment his butler opened the door for his rather late arrival. “I want to be out of here the moment I wake.”
The butler took his coat, a rather confused expression on his face. “Tomorrow, my lord?”
“Yes, tomorrow,” William replied impatiently. “I told you before I left.”
The butler cleared his throat with a rather uneasy expression on his face. “I do beg your pardon, my lord, but you gave me no instructions as regards tomorrow.”
“Yes, I did!” William retorted, his anger shooting straight through him. “I told you that I wished to return to my country estate tomorrow and…..” He trailed off, his eyes widening as he slowly began to recall what he had done—and not done—since his return from Whites.
Throwing his head back, William let out a long groan and put his hands over his face.
“What do you need me to do, my lord?” his butler asked calmly. “I will do whatever it is you require.”
Sighing heavily, William shook his head. “It is already late and I am a little worse for wear. I apologize for my frustration, George. I thought I had spoken to you but now I recall I did nothing more than call for a bath and then prepare for the ball this evening.”
The butler managed a small smile, his usually stoic face appearing a little sympathetic. “You were rather distracted, my lord.”
“Yes, I was,” William muttered, glancing at his ever-faithful butler. “I shall see you tomorrow, George. I intend to have a late breakfast but I do want to leave before luncheon. Back to the country, you see. Do you think you could make all the arrangements come the morning?”
“Your things shall be sent ahead of you so that by the time you rise, all that you will need to do will be to dress and climb into your carriage, my lord,” his butler said calmly, as though such an amount of work was not any trouble.
William shook his head at his own lack of clarity and managed a wane smile. “Thank you, George. Remind me to give all the staff a bonus, will you?”
With a short bow, the butler excused himself and left William to climb the staircase to his room, his head already thumping. He had, of course, quite forgotten that he had not told his staff what he intended to do come the morning, for he had been rather distracted with the weight of his wet clothes on his back as well as the heavy thoughts on his mind. Yet somehow he had managed to attend the ball believing that he had made everything quite clear to his staff.
“The sooner I return home, the better,” he muttered to himself, glad that he had told his valet not to wait up for him. Discarding his clothes, he made a small attempt to place them neatly on a chair, knowing that his valet would catch his breath in horror if he were to find them thrown on a pile on the floor. Most likely, his things would be packed and taken away without him ever waking. His staff was good that way.
Crawling beneath the sheets, William groaned quietly, burying his face into his pillows. What a terrible day this had been. He had come to learn more about himself than he would have ever wished to, his face contorting in frustration as he recalled how he had found his name in Whites’ betting book.
Love? Pah! He had spent months swimming around in what he had believed to be love, only to realize that it was nothing of the sort. He had made a complete fool of himself in the process, drawing nothing but ridicule and mockery.
He had to let go of such dreams as these, thinking that, mayhap, he would have to simply find a marriage of convenience. For if the lady was of good breeding and was well mannered, then what else truly mattered? He could ensure the heir and the spare were produced and then they could live rather separate lives for, after all, he had more than one property to his name. Was that not the way of the ton? As far as they were concerned, finding a suitable match had nothing whatsoever to do with such frippery notions as love.
But then William recalled the way Miss Stanway had looked so lovingly at Lord Radcliffe, and his heart clung to the idea of love just a little bit more. He could not give it up entirely, not yet.
Closing his eyes, William tried to quieten the swirling thoughts in his mind, hoping desperately to drift off to sleep. However, it was some time before sleep came to claim him, finally putting a stop to the tortured questions tearing all through him.
Chapter Three
Miss Juliette Hawkridge, the stepsister to the Earl of Perrin, quickly walked towards Lord Morton’s townhouse, her heart thundering in her chest.
It was already growing close to dawn and she could not be found on the streets of London, even if she was dressed in her plainest gown. The moment she had heard that Lord Morton was to be leaving London the following morning, she had known that this was the only opportunity she was going to have.
Her stepbrother intended to have her sign the betrothal contract to Lord Hednesford the following morning and she was not sure she would be able to refuse him yet again. The last time she had done so, he inflicted so much pain on her that she had almost broken and done what he asked. However, her fortitude and strength had won the day, even though she knew that had he done anything more to her, she might have accepted.
“Not again,” she whispered to herself, knowing that the marks of his last beating were still visible on her back. “I will not be treated so.”
Lord Morton said he would be leaving London the very moment the sun broke through the horizon and that meant she had to be at his residence well before he woke. This could be her one chance to find a way out of the horrible mess her brother had insisted on putting her in—all because he wanted to be rid of her from his house. All because she would not give herself to him like he so desperately wanted.
Shuddering violently, Juliette came to the house she hoped was Lord Morton’s. After speaking to him last evening, she had only just managed to find the address from one of her acquaintances before being dragged away by her brother to dance with Lord Hednesford. She had not wanted to, of course, for experience had taught her that Lord Hednesford possessed grasping, sweaty hands that always attempted to tug her closer than propriety allowed. He was a short, rotund man who would have been ages with her stepfather, were he still alive. His grey eyebrows and long, straggly beard did not compliment his appearance in the least, although the keen look in his gaze told her that Hednesford expected nothing less than her hand in marriage, probably paying her stepbrother a vast amount of money for the privilege. After all, wealth and pleasure were all her stepbrother cared for.
She stepped back as a servant rushed across the pavement towards the waiting landau, throwing the baggage he held up to the man above. Apparently, she was just in time. All she had to do now was bide her time and wait for just the right moment.
The first streams of daylight were beginning to touch the sky, chasing away the darkness. Her hands tightening on the single bag she held, Juliette waited impatiently for the last of the bags to be placed into the landau before stepping forward, seeing the driver climb up into his seat, holding the reins. There would be servants waiting at Lord Morton’s estate, ready to unload all the luggage so Juliette was not at all surprised to see only one tiger at the back of the landau.
“Wait there! One more bag!”
Hearing the servant being called from the house, Juliette darted forward, praying that the darkness would cover her. The tiger, jumping back down from his position, strode back to pick up the last of the bags as the driver turned his head to watch the proceedings.
Her fingers were so numb with cold and fright that, for a moment, Juliette thought she might not be able to open the door of the landau. The servant would return at any moment, the driver might have his attention drawn somewhere else, and then the game would be up! Sending a silent prayer towards heaven, Juliette tried again, only for the door to swing open with a quiet squeak.
She did not hesitate but climbed in at once, practically falling on her face over all the luggage and trunks that were inside it. Evidently, Lord Morton had very little intention of returning to London any time soon!
Pulling the door closed behind her, Juliette pulled her bag onto her lap as she found a place to sit. It was rather uncomfortable and she hoped desperately that she would not be breaking anything that belonged to Lord Morton. Hauling her cloak over her head, she attempted to make herself as small as possible, hoping desperately that the servants would not need to look inside.
Then the door opened.
Juliette held her breath, waiting for the servant to catch sight of her, but much to her relief, another bag was simply placed on top and then the door closed again. Through the window, she caught sight of another man walking along the pavement, glancing at the landau for a moment, before continuing on his way. Apparently, she had not been spotted. Within a few minutes and amidst a few other shouts, the landau was on its way, trundling over the cobbled streets of London.
Juliette’s fingers held onto her bag so tightly they began to hurt, but try as she might, she could not relax her hold. She was still far too anxious, as though her stepbrother might suddenly come riding up beside the carriage, demanding that she step out. It was ridiculous, of course, for her stepbrother had been much too drunk last evening to have even lifted his head this morning, but still, the thought would not leave her. She simply could not relax.
For the many hours that she was in Lord Morton’s carriage, Juliette remained exactly where she was, not moving an inch. Thus far, her plan had gone rather well, but once she reached the estate, she had very little idea of what she would do next. After all, when the servants came to remove the baggage from the landau, they would find her inside. What was she to say to them then? Most likely, they would leave her to the master, so that he would decide what was to happen to her—and then what would she say?
Unless I tell the staff I am here as one of his guests, Juliette thought to herself, going crimson at the thought of what the staff would then think of her. After all, a lady did not reside at a gentleman’s home alone, not unless she was there for a specific purpose which, indeed, she was not! Chewing on her bottom lip, Juliette shook her head, knowing she could not use that excuse.
By the time the carriage rolled into the estate grounds, Juliette had come up with no excuse whatsoever. In fact, her mind had been so fraught that her thoughts had become cloudy, leaving her completely at a loss as to what to say.
“Here we are, then!” the driver exclaimed, as the landau came to a stop. “Surprised no one else is here to greet us!”
“Best take it around the back,” the tiger said, his voice muffled through the roof of the landau. “Most likely they are not expecting us. George said something about the master being a little… confused about what he’d said to the staff yesterday. I’ll go in and tell them what’s going on.”
Juliette heard his feet hit the graveled path, her heart beating wildly as she waited for the landau door to be wrenched open.
“I’ll come with you,” the driver agreed, climbing down. “After all, we’re going to need a few of them to organize all the luggage. From the looks of it, I’d say the master doesn’t intend to return to London until next year.”
The tiger chuckled. “That’s certainly a bit odd, given how much he seems to appreciate the ladies of the beau monde!”
“Oh, there’s more to tell you on that score,” the driver laughed, his voice gruff. “Come on inside and we’ll talk to them all. Maybe get us something to eat before we have to start taking the rest inside!”
Juliette strained to hear them walk away, her hands clammy as she grasped the handle of her bag. She had to leave now before they returned. She wouldn’t get another chance.
Slowly opening the door of the landau, Juliette peered outside and, much to her relief, saw no one about. Climbing out carefully, she shut the door tight and, looking around her, chose to hurry around to the front of the house, hoping that the rest of the staff would be busy listening to the tiger and driver’s news. After all, if it was true that Lord Morton had decided to leave London on the spur of the moment, then there would be a great many things for them to prepare.
The stone steps loomed in front of her, making her hesitate. If she were to enter, then it would be rather difficult to leave again without being spotted. And where exactly would she go? She would have to find an unused room and remain there, only coming out at night to find herself something to eat. It was not much of an existence and, given that she would always be on her guard, Juliette thought it would be a rather difficult time.
Turning around and aware that she did not have an awful lot of time, Juliette saw a small house by the gate that led into, from what she could see, rather ornate gardens. One of the walls was covered in ivy and despite its rather dilapidated state, it had a rather welcoming aura.
“But does anyone live there?” Juliette murmured, glancing from that to the large house.
Voices began to echo towards her and without having any more time to think, Juliette picked up her bag and ran full pelt across the grass towards the gatehouse.
Slamming herself hard against the wall, Juliette sank to her knees and hoped desperately that no one had seen her. There were no shouting voices, no running feet chasing after her. Her breathing still ragged, Juliette closed her eyes and drew in lungfuls of air, a small sense of freedom beginning to burst in her chest.
A small sound nearby suddenly alerted her to the fact that she wasn’t alone. Opening her eyes, Juliette turned her head to see a rather puzzled-looking young lady standing to her left, her hands planted on her hips. From her dress, Juliette guessed that she was one of the tenants on Lord Morton’s estate.
“Please,” Juliette said, holding up her hands in a gesture of defeat. “Please don’t tell anyone here. I have to hide. I have to get away from him.”
The young lady frowned. “Away from who?”
“My stepbrother,” Juliette replied and, much to her embarrassment, began to cry.
Chapter Four
Huge, heaving sobs shook Juliette’s frame as everything she’d held within herself for so long came bursting out. She could not help but let the tears flow, drawing her knees up to her chest as she wept. For so long, she’d put up with her stepbrother, hiding her fear and worry from him in the knowledge that, should he know of it, he would use it for his advantage.
“Now, you don’t need to start worrying I’m going to tell anyone that you’re here,” the young woman said, sounding rather practical. “‘Specially since I don’t know your name.” She held out a rather grubby-looking handkerchief towards Juliette, who took it gratefully, wiping her cheeks. “You’re scared or something?”
Juliette didn’t know how to explain herself, shrugging her shoulders. “I just need to hide somewhere for a little while, until I can work out what to do next.”
The young woman nodded, her eyes holding a flicker of understanding. “You came in the landau, I’d say, then? Were you looking to hide in here?”
“It was either in there or the larger house,” Juliette explained, half wondering why she was explaining herself to someone she didn’t know in the least. “If I went in there,” she continued, gesturing towards the larger house, “then I’d have to hide somewhere that wasn’t used and I didn’t know how I’d eat or…..” She trailed off, the foolishness of her plan smothering her as she hid her face in her hands. “I didn’t think this through very well.”
“Well, luckily for you, the gatehouse is in need of a tenant,” the young woman replied with a quick smile. “I go in there sometimes when things at home get too busy, but there ain’t no one living there if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Juliette lifted her face up to her, a frown crossing her brow. “You mean, he doesn’t have a tenant in there yet? Why?”
“It’s in need of a good clean and some repairs,” came the reply. “You can’t use one of the rooms because the wall’s needing fixing. But the master’s been awful busy of late, spending most of his time in London. He ain’t got round to getting someone in to fix it yet so you may as well go in.”
Slowly getting to her feet, her skirts no longer billowing around her, Juliette stood up tall and tried to smile. “I don’t want him to find me.”
The young woman laughed, her eyes twinkling. “Lord Morton is a good master but he doesn’t take much notice of his land and tenants,” she chuckled, shaking her head. “Too lost in the clouds, he is. His steward is the one who oversees most things and he’s been told not to pay any attention to the gatehouse for the time being. I think you’ll be quite all right in here, so long as you’re careful.” She tipped her head, studying Juliette. “You’re going to have a high old time learning to clean, though,” she continued with a broad smile. “It’s going to be a very different life from what you’re used to.”
