A Viscount is a Girl’s Best Friend Page 3

  Fortunately, Selina appeared too preoccupied by Edith’s plight to think of anything else. She descended on her sister with kisses and reprimands in equal measure and summoned the carriage at once. Nathaniel stood aside, feeling rather like a spare part, until he was called upon to carry Edith to the door.

  Just before he stooped to lift her, Uncle Adolphus waggled his cane to draw Nathaniel’s attention.

  “I was sorry to see you giving those two rascals the time of day, Nathaniel.”

  He drew himself up stiffly. “I am capable of choosing my own friends, Uncle.”

  “I certainly hope you did not discuss wasting any more money on that dratted horse.”

  Nathaniel glanced over at Selina, who was distracted with bidding goodbye to their hostess. “Certainly not, Uncle.” He bent and gathered Edith up in his arms.

  Her head fell against his shoulder, which would have been most pleasant if it were not for the excessive amount of hairpins her maid had apparently deemed necessary to hold all her golden locks in place. Nathaniel wondered for a fleeting instant how Edith would look with those shining waves hanging loose about her shoulders.

  That was a strange fantasy, and he cast it from his mind as soon as it appeared. The last thing he needed to do was betray Edith’s trust by becoming one among the many obnoxious suitors salivating after her fortune.

  Edith’s hand curled into his jacket. The fabric pulled taut across his shoulder, but he did not mind.

  “Why did you lie to your uncle?” she whispered, as he carried her out into the hallway.

  “What makes you believe I lied?”

  “I can always tell.” She reached up and brushed her gloved finger against his left eyebrow. “This eyebrow turns up in the middle when you tell a lie.”

  He smiled ruefully. “I can’t hide anything from you.”

  “Nor should you ever have cause to.” A frown crinkled her forehead. “I am sorry to say that I agree with Mr Townsend, Nathaniel. Lord Sheldon and Sir Terence do not strike me as worthy of your friendship.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but she quickly shook her head. “I won’t try to tell you what to do. I am on your side, no matter what. If you are sure of them, I will not argue.”

  He negotiated the steps outside the Graysons’ house with ease and lifted Edith through the door of the waiting carriage.

  “I ought to ride home with you and help you out at the other end,” he said, making a move to step inside.

  Selina’s hand came down warningly on his arm. “No need. The footmen are more than capable. Thank you, Lord Rotherham.”

  “Nathaniel!” Edith called, leaning forwards and reaching her hand towards him. He pressed it warmly. “What would I do without you? Thank you for taking such good care of me.”

  “It was no trouble at all,” he said, deliberately crooking his left eyebrow. Edith held a hand to her mouth to cover her smile.

  Nathaniel offered his hand to Selina as she stepped into the carriage and stood on the Graysons’ driveway until their horses had pulled them away into the street.

  To his surprise, the tapping of a cane on the steps behind him signalled the appearance of Uncle Adolphus. Nathaniel moved to lend him an arm, but Adolphus waved his cane so vigorously that he was forced to retreat for fear of sending him further off balance.

  “That Lady Edith is a good sort of girl,” said Adolphus. “If her head were not quite so far up among the clouds, I would be sending you to speak to her brother without delay.”

  “Then it is a very good thing that you control my fortune, and not my marriage prospects,” said Nathaniel. “Lady Edith would take about as kindly to an imposed marriage as a cat takes to water.”

  Adolphus scratched his chin thoughtfully. “What does she make of this business of the racehorse, I wonder?”

  Nathaniel’s shoulders sank. Why was it that every time he and his uncle shared a moment of cordiality, Adolphus insisted on spoiling it with another of his reprimands?

  “Edith believes I am my own man and capable of handling my own affairs,” he said curtly. “She may be a flighty, romantic creature, but in this instance, I believe she displays such good sense that it is a pity not everybody agrees.” He bowed stiffly and went back into the house, leaving Adolphus to make his own wobbling way back up the steps.

  4

  Edith did not hold out much hope of morning callers the day after the ball. She had left far too early to make an impression on any gentlemen – save Nathaniel, of course, but he hardly counted. In the absence of any suitors, she longed most of all for a walk in the sunshine, but Selina was in no mood to allow it. Edith was propped up on the sofa amid a great stack of cushions, her ankle raised on a footstool, and though her sister saw that she was surrounded by books, sketchbooks, and stacks of needlework, she felt exceptionally dull.

  The only spark of interest the day held was the pile of letters Selina brought in to read to her. Daisy had written, a long, effusive letter full of details of Viennese hospitality and fashions. Alex had written a significantly less interesting account of the plain facts of their diplomatic endeavours, a subject which seemed to interest Selina greatly, judging by the time she spent reading the letter, but which Edith could not make herself enjoy.

  A letter had appeared from Isobel which had evidently gone astray, for it was dated on the previous week and contained a vivid description of her arrival with Aunt Ursula in Matlock. Edith closed her eyes and tried to swallow her jealousy as Selina read out Isobel’s description of the beauties of Dovedale.

  A trip to the Peaks was not the transcontinental adventure she had always dreamed of, but it was at least something. It seemed terribly unfair that Isobel should be the one to enjoy it simply because she spent so many dull hours sitting with Aunt Ursula at home. Isobel was quiet and shy, enamoured of home comforts and devoid of wanderlust.

  But she was Aunt Ursula’s chosen companion, and Edith had to admit that her own attentions to her elderly aunt had been anything but assiduous. It was not the first time that her irrepressible spirits had led to an undesirable outcome. She had nobody to blame but herself.

  Perhaps, this time, she might finally learn her lesson.

  The agony of listening to her sister’s exploits was finally brought to an end by the butler’s announcement that Lord Rotherham had sent in his card. It was all Edith could do not to leap from her seat and run to greet him.

  “Send him in, send him in! Lord Rotherham knows there is no need to send his card in! I am always at home to him.” She ignored the look of reproach Selina shot her, too excited by the prospect of a visitor to maintain a ladylike calm. “Send him in at once!”

  Nathaniel was preceded by an enormous bouquet of hothouse lilies which he struggled to fit through the door. Edith clasped her hands together and breathed in the scent as he presented them to her with a deep bow.

  “You wicked creature! I am spoilt enough already, as you can see.” She gestured to the books and embroidery Selina had stacked around her in hopes of lifting her spirits.

  Nathaniel grinned and passed the flowers to the butler, who held them aloft as he went in search of a vase. “I thought I ought to make up for my part in cutting your evening short yesterday. If I had not asked you to dance, you would have stayed to enjoy yourself much longer.” He turned and bowed to Selina. “Good morning, Lady Selina. I trust I find you well?”

  “All the better for seeing you, Lord Rotherham,” said Selina, glancing from Edith to Nathaniel with that disconcerting sparkle that came to her eyes whenever she saw them together. “Edith, ring for tea. I’m sure you will want me to attend to my letters and leave you to entertain Lord Rotherham in peace.”

  Nathaniel pressed a hand to his heart. “When will I prevail upon you to call me by my given name, my lady? You have known me since I was a schoolboy. I am not Lord Rotherham to you.”

  Selina tilted her head to one side and looked at him steadily. “There is only one circumstance that would induce me to cal
l you by your first name, my lord, and it has not yet come to pass.”

  With that mysterious pronouncement, she took up her letter opener and sliced through the envelope of the latest correspondence from Aunt Ursula.

  Nathaniel took a chair and pulled it close to Edith’s sofa. “Does the ankle hurt you terribly?”

  “Not at all!” Edith lifted her foot in the air and wiggled it from side to side to demonstrate. “A night of rest has all but healed it. I shall be dancing again by this evening.”

  “Not with me, I fear. All your wiles would not persuade me to dance a reel with you until I am quite satisfied you will not be hurt again.”

  “A true friend would take my word that I am ready.”

  “This true friend knows you too well for that.” He winked. “Now, let me tell you what transpired at the ball after you left. There were several love matches made and marred in the course of the evening. I have been longing to hear your interpretation of who took whom into supper. You can always be trusted to imagine the most elaborate explanations.”

  “I have the talent of looking into people’s hearts, Nathaniel. You are too concerned with rationality to understand what a lingering look can mean, or what the secret touch of a hand can impart! Why, I believe that on many occasions I have predicted a love match long before either party was aware of it themselves. It was certainly the case with my brother and Daisy.”

  “You have let that one instance of cleverness go to your head,” he said, a teasing light in his eyes.

  Edith was choosing between several haughty responses when a stifled gasp from the writing desk drew their attention to Selina.

  The oldest Balfour sister had turned pale, her fingers clutching the letter in her hands so tightly that the paper had crumpled. When she realised that she had gasped aloud, she smoothed a hand across her forehead and set the letter down with trembling fingers.

  “You have received some ill news,” said Nathaniel, jumping to his feet. “May I assist you? Or is this a private matter?”

  Selina shook her head, lips parting wordlessly and closing again several times before she found her voice. “Nothing private,” she said. “Not from you, in any case, Rotherham.” She passed him the letter, nodding to indicate that he should carry it to Edith. “Isobel has fallen ill. Aunt Ursula says that they thought it was only a head cold at first, so she did not write. But now…” Selina took a long, shaky breath. “Now Isobel has had a high fever for several days.”

  “This letter was written three days ago,” said Edith, scanning urgently over Aunt Ursula’s neat handwriting. “Poor Isobel! I wish they were not so far away.”

  Selina pressed a hand to her lips. “Aunt Ursula cannot possibly care for Isobel alone. It was Isobel who was supposed to be looking after her! And dear Ursula is always so hard on the maids. She has never been able to manage them properly.” She rose from her seat and took a pace towards the door, before halting, reconsidering, and turning back to step towards the writing desk. “I must go to her. For all we know, Isobel is even worse off today than she was when Aunt Ursula wrote.”

  “Or she may be much better,” said Nathaniel. He laid his hand on Edith’s shoulder, and a reassuring warmth spread from his touch. “There is no need to torture yourself by imagining the worst.”

  “Selina, you cannot leave London!” said Edith. “What if Alex’s land agent should need instructions? What about the welcome for the Austrian ambassador?”

  Selina rubbed at her forehead and took a deep breath. “The land agent and the ambassador must fend for themselves. I cannot risk Isobel’s health.”

  Edith seized Nathaniel’s hand and used it to pull herself upright. Her ankle held up without even the slightest protest. She walked across the room, waving away Nathaniel’s proffered arm, and set her hands on Selina’s shoulders. “There is no need to sacrifice one for the other. I may not be able to deal with the land agent or manage the preparations for the finest party of the Season, but I can play the nursemaid every bit as well as you. Let me go to Matlock and nurse Isobel.”

  “I cannot ask you to do that –”

  “Nonsense! I will be happy to go. Why, only ten minutes ago I was reflecting on my misery at being left behind!” Edith pushed down the writhing nerves in her stomach, letting the steadiness of firm resolution fill her instead. “I have been longing for an adventure, and this is just the thing to satisfy me. I will be a thousand times better placed to focus my energies on Isobel and her recovery than you, who will be continually distracted by all the responsibilities you left behind.”

  Selina bit her bottom lip until it turned white.

  “Please,” said Edith. “Let me help. Trust me, for once. I can do it.”

  Selina sighed and let her head fall forward onto Edith’s shoulder. To Edith’s horror, that shoulder quickly grew damp with tears. Edith put her arms around her sister and pressed tightly, willing some of the strange new strength that had filled her at the prospect of her journey to pass to Selina.

  “Thank you,” said Selina, dabbing her eyes with the handkerchief Nathaniel had prudently passed over Edith’s shoulder. “Of course I trust you.” She straightened herself up, handed the handkerchief back to Nathaniel, and gave the butler an imperious nod as he returned with the vase full of lilies. “Mr Wilton,” she said, “Lady Edith is travelling to Matlock by post chaise at first light tomorrow morning. Please make all the necessary preparations for her journey.”

  Mr Wilton bowed, only the faintest crease of surprise breaking the professional smoothness of his brow. “At once, my lady.”

  “There,” said Selina, breathing out a deep sigh and sinking into her chair. “We will send a footman with you, of course – Harold, perhaps. He is a responsible sort. Can you do without a maid on the journey? It may delay you if you are forced to wait for three spaces on the coach.”

  “Miss Celia Fiennes did not require a footman when she made her journey across the full length of England by horse,” said Edith stoutly. “With her as my example, I will not even need Harold.”

  Selina narrowed her eyes. “That is an adventure too far, I fear. Remember that you represent our family as you travel. I cannot have it said that the Duke of Loxwell’s sister was packed off into a post chaise unaccompanied!”

  Nathaniel stepped forwards. “What can I do, my lady? I will begin the ride to Matlock this evening if it would ease your mind.”

  “Thank you, Rotherham, but that is too much to ask. You have your own duties to attend to, I’m sure. As you said, there is no need to imagine the worst.”

  Nathaniel shook his head firmly. “I insist on being of use to you. My uncle has suggested I should visit my estate tomorrow. Allow me to drive Lady Edith to the posting house at Barnet and arrange the first stage of her journey. It is not far out of my way, and it will be quicker than battling through the crowds at the posting houses in London.”

  “That is a wonderful idea,” said Edith. “If you can bear it, I will leave at dawn.”

  Nathaniel bowed. “Then I will be waiting for you as the first cock crows.” He set his hat back upon his head. “I will not trespass further on your hospitality at this difficult moment. Good day, Lady Selina.” He turned and winked at Edith. “Edith, I hope the early start will not trouble you too greatly. I will take care to drive over every pothole on the road to make sure you are awake by the time we reach Barnet.”

  As he left, Edith felt a good portion of her resolve leave with him. It was almost too easy to be brave with her dearest friend at her side. Now that she was left to comfort Selina alone, the prospect of the journey which lay ahead of her loomed disconcertingly large.

  She had never travelled without her family before, outside of her daydreams. She had always imagined that her first adventure would be the culmination of months of planning and anticipation.

  She did not even know which roads she would be taking on her way to Matlock. When she gazed longingly at the maps in Alexander’s library, it was always the far-off
places which caught her attention.

  As the realisation of what she was about to undertake dried her mouth and fluttered in her stomach, Edith could not have said whether she was feeling excitement or nerves. There was the wrenching worry for Isobel, of course, but that was only a small part of all the conflicting emotions she felt in that moment.

  “Are you sure you want to go?” asked Selina, eyes still unnaturally bright.

  Edith clasped her hand. “I want it more than anything. I promise you, I will bring Isobel home safe and well.”

  5

  The posting house at Barnet, the first stop along the Great North Road, was a bustling confusion of men, horses, and wobbling stacks of luggage, all made more difficult to negotiate by the black-spotted coach dogs running underfoot. Nathaniel left Edith looking out wide-eyed from his town coach and strode across the courtyard to the office to order her space in the next post chaise heading north.

  He did not often lean on his title, but the name Lord Rotherham was useful enough that a postilion leapt to his service and escorted him back to the town coach to help Harold the footman unload the luggage.

  Nathaniel took Edith’s hand, noticing that her fingers gripped his rather tightly, and hopped her over a pile of horse dung as she stepped down.

  “My brother would have a fit of conniptions if he saw me about to travel half the length of England by myself,” she said, eyes shining brightly. She looked such a mix of fear and excitement that Nathaniel longed to put his arm around her.

  Edith had dreamed for so long of a real adventure. This journey of two nights and three days would be but a small taste of what she had always wanted. But Nathaniel knew Edith well enough to see that her dreams of travelling were pure fantasy. The reality of it might well be different – perhaps painfully so.