A Cinderella for the Viscount Read online

  ‘Yes. But I may be late joining you. I must reassure myself our guest is doing well. She had a most attractive derrière. Damn—she smelled good, too. A perfect female.’

  He heard the stout snort and raised his head to Payton, but Payton stared at him, open-mouthed.

  He heard a feminine voice and turned his head to the doorway.

  ‘I would not say those are the qualities of a perfect woman, Viscount Montfort.’ Miss Albright stood at the entrance. Even in the dimness he could still see the last of the lingering grimace on her face. He’d judged her too delicate and too winsome to give such a healthy blast of disapproval.

  ‘Oh, Miss Al...bright.’ He stood.

  ‘Thank you for saving my life and sniffing my hair.’ She stayed in the doorway. ‘It’s rose-scented. I like roses.’

  ‘Roses are pleasant,’ he said. ‘Way better than jonquils.’

  Payton stood as well, tossing down a healthy swig of brandy, snuffing out his cigar, then giving a most elaborate bow to Miss Albright.

  ‘Don’t hurt him,’ Payton spoke to the woman as she walked into the room. ‘It’s not his fault he’s daft. He’s never recovered from the thumping I gave him when he was ten and I was only eight. Almost did him in.’

  He slipped to the doorway and, as he stood behind her, he raised his brows, gave an exaggerated wink, put one lone finger over his closed lips, grinned and went out, still carrying the romantic novel.

  She limped into the room.

  ‘Do we need to send for the physician again?’ Devlin asked, not taking his gaze from her.

  ‘Absolutely not. My most attractive derrière—thank you, I think—hurts. I cannot sleep. Your mother told me earlier to make myself at home and I could have a maid bring me something to read if I woke in the night. I did not wish to wake a maid. I presumed this was the library. And I could have sworn your mother said smoking was not allowed in this side of the house.’ She fanned a hand in front of her face. ‘I must have misheard.’

  ‘It’s only allowed in the wee hours of the night and only for a short duration. A rule my father instituted and only the males are aware of the concession. Generally.’

  But he couldn’t keep his mind off her injury. ‘I hope you recover quickly.’ He waved an arm to the side of the sofa Payton had just vacated. ‘Would you prefer to—?’

  ‘Stand.’ She limped inside the room. ‘But please sit.’

  He took a step to reach for the pull, but caught himself before he asked if she would like a maid present. Her hair billowed about in the candlelight. The borrowed dressing gown she wore was much too large for her and appeared as if it might slip from her shoulders at any second. Her bare feet poked out from the hem. The maid could sleep. He put out his cigar. If Miss Albright needed anything, he would happily fetch it for her.

  He took a candle and lit the one nearest the bookcase before returning the light to its place. ‘And in case you’re wondering, my hair smells of acorns. My cousin Payton’s valet has been using it on him since he was born and Payton swears the mixture will keep the hair growing freely.’

  He took two steps, stopping beside her, yet leaving a comfortable distance. ‘See?’

  She moved forward, touched the sleeve of his shirt and leaned in, sniffing. ‘That’s a different scent.’

  He held himself proud. Imported.

  ‘Did your cousin swear by it or swear at it?’

  He studied the wide eyes which had a devilish glint. ‘I do regret the accident, but it doesn’t seem to have impaired you in any way. Particularly your sense of humour.’

  ‘Other than a distinct inability to feel comfortable sitting.’ She shrugged and smiled—the brightest one he’d seen from her. ‘Or a distinct inability to feel comfortable anywhere.’

  She glanced at an empty chair and he imagined he saw longing in her face. He could not sit down in her presence. It would be unthinkable.

  ‘I have huge gratitude for you rescuing me,’ she continued. ‘But only a most proper kind. I do appreciate your help. And the pomade doesn’t really smell bad. Just woodsy. Autumnal.’

  ‘I regret the fire and wish it had been me instead of you, but to hold such a lovely lady was a boon for me.’

  Her cheeks grew a little pink and she tucked her head, seeming embarrassed. ‘You’ve had many boons in your life?’

  ‘Only the necessary amount, I would say.’ Then he frowned. ‘But embracing you was something I will never forget.’ He’d spoken the words easily enough. He’d just slipped into the light-hearted banter he might speak with friends he’d known for a long time. Perhaps it was because of the lateness, or the way she’d remained in his mind from the first moments before the fire until now.

  The moment he’d rushed across the room, he’d felt his own life was threatened and it had seemed necessary to his survival to protect her. He supposed it must have been because she was in his home. A primitive response and one he was thankful for.

  Then he appraised her, shoving all the nonsensical words he spoke so easily from his mind, even though with her they didn’t seem meaningless. Miss Albright seemed to enter his senses more quickly and deeply than any of the acquaintances or friendships he’d had in the past.

  Perhaps it was her seriousness, something he usually avoided. Only on her, it didn’t appear critical or condescending or even truly serious, just thoughtful and aware.

  ‘Though I would have preferred our meeting under better circumstances in safer surroundings.’

  The words jabbed at him, almost like a lie might attack his conscience. It was true he would have done anything in his power to prevent the accident, but he felt a sliver of fear that if it hadn’t happened, he might have foolishly missed the chance to speak with her.

  ‘I won’t forget it either,’ she said. ‘And I do thank you. I’m fortunate you were there.’ She shuddered. ‘It could have been so much worse. My parents are so relieved you reacted as you did. Father believes you saved my life. He said he’d just not been able to comprehend what was happening and then it was all over.’

  ‘Let’s forget about the evening and just remember this part of it. How could I not be intrigued by a woman who makes me think of—toasted roses?’ He wanted to put her in a better humour and not only for her. For himself as well. When she smiled, it made everything else fade into oblivion but her face.

  She grimaced. ‘Your eyes followed Priscilla’s every step.’ She met his upraised brows and raised her own. ‘Or perhaps it wasn’t her steps you were watching.’

  So, Miss Albright had observed him. ‘Priscilla has lovely eyes.’

  ‘She has very big, plump ones,’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘Eyes are important features for a person to have.’ He locked his gaze with hers. ‘Your eyes are beautiful beyond measure.’

  She bit her lip, studying him, her cheeks flushing again.

  ‘You may take that as a sincere and respectful compliment, as it was meant so. All of my observations about you are meant as appreciation of your womanliness and not to impinge on your respectability.’ He ended the words with a slight, respectful bow for emphasis. ‘And perhaps some normal preening male jealousy. You did seem aware of someone else and I cannot imagine you not having a sweetheart.’

  She interlaced her fingertips and let out another whoosh of air, this one a reflection of the awe in her eyes. ‘Mr Ambrose Tenney. He is my beloved. The way that little lock of hair keeps tumbling over his eyebrow. He even has a dimple.’ Touching her cheek, she breathed out. ‘And his hands—so elegant. We are to be married.’

  He held out his own hand, examining it while he turned it up and then reversed direction. ‘You can’t possibly expect me to believe you’ve accepted marriage based on this Tenney’s hands.’

  He stretched his arm, staring. ‘Blast it. I will never be able to wed or even dare ask a woman to be my wife.’

/>   She raised her brows. ‘What?’

  He reached her in direction, showing her. ‘I will never be able to compete with Mr Tenney. I have been marred.’ He wiggled the smallest digit. ‘Little finger.’

  She took his fingertips in her own and his body started warming. The room was dim—too dim to be proper and they had been through a considerable adventure. She made him feel stronger than he ever had before, yet he’d never felt so weak.

  She bent over his hands, examining them. ‘Yours are...adequate, even if the one is out of alignment with the rest of them.’

  Her lips turned up. ‘I’m jesting with you when I use the word adequate. You saved me. Right now, I find them capable and competent. The best in the world. And the crooked one is distinguished. One might say elegant. Definitely distinct enough to make others jealous.’

  ‘I would not go that far.’ Inside he beamed. Miss Albright could dispense flattery if she wished.

  ‘My cousin and I were playing king of the castle and the encounter became frenzied. I pushed him off the hill and he planned to take me with him, and that was all he could grab. I wasn’t going off the mound.’

  ‘Maybe you should have relented. Lost the game to save pain.’ She tapped the little finger.

  His hands were not the part of his body her touch affected.

  ‘In hindsight, I could have let him tug me to the bottom and landed on him. So, for his sake, perhaps it was for the best. I would have used him as a cushion,’ he said. But he understood something else about himself in that instance. The pain hadn’t really hurt and he’d wanted to win. He would have repeated the incident just as he had initially done it. A clear victory. His father claimed nothing else mattered in a battle but a decisive win.

  She glanced up, running her fingers over his knuckles, the touch so light he wasn’t sure he imagined it. ‘His hands aren’t the only thing I admire about Mr Tenney. He’s a barrister and will make a name for himself. He is so ambitious. That is one of the things I like most about him. That he’s constantly striving to become more successful. I should like you to meet him some day, Viscount Montfort.’

  Everything she’d just said singed him. He had no desire to meet Tenney. ‘Whatever you wish,’ he said. ‘Except my given name is Devlin Bryan and I’d prefer to think we know each other well enough for you to call me Devlin as my friends do.’

  ‘It would be an honour.’ Her face bloomed as if he’d just given her a bouquet. ‘And I would be pleased if you would call me Rachael.’

  Then she turned. Leaving. Bidding him goodnight. Limping to the doorway.

  ‘Rachael.’ His words stopped her. ‘You did not select a book. Please stay longer. We’ve shared such an adventure that I feel I have known you for ever. A few moments more of your time would be a treasure—that is—if you aren’t in pain.’

  Chapter Two

  Rachael stopped and turned to Devlin, a man who’d taken her in his arms when they’d both been reduced to instinctive beings. In those brief seconds, he’d changed from a stranger whom she’d converse with reservedly to someone with whom she could speak her mind.

  He was half-dressed, of course, only wearing a shirt and trousers, but it was his family home and it was the middle of the night. And she was wearing a borrowed dressing gown with no corset or chemise under it, hoping the cloth would not touch her burned skin.

  Their familiarity seemed shared and, by the ease in his face, he didn’t want to leave any more than she did.

  Their bond surprised her. He wanted her to feel comfortable in his home and she did, but perhaps only because he was in the room.

  Nothing else mattered to her but that she distract herself from the small ache in her posterior—and when they talked, the pain all but disappeared.

  She’d regretted refusing the laudanum after the first dose, but she hated the way it made her feel—more a cloud than a person—a wisp of who she was—and her mind seemed dislodged.

  Devlin distracted her in a completely opposite way. She could keep her feet on the ground and her mind safely in the room.

  ‘I don’t feel like reading.’ Rachael took careful steps back, yet remained outside the doorway. ‘Instead, I’m a bit like a child who doesn’t want to go to bed and who is too tired to sleep. And my you-know-what hurts like it’s still on fire.’

  If she’d returned to her bedroom, she would have had to try to sleep on her stomach and doubted she could even doze off.

  He took two steps closer, but didn’t cross the entrance to the library. ‘Stay for a chat, then. I’ve never been accused of an over-abundance of maturity and I’ll attempt to ease the pain with nonsense. I can summon up a great deal of nonsense on occasion. Buckets of it.’

  He leaned forward, and said, ‘In fact, I can’t think of the word maturity ever being used in reference to me.’ His brow furrowed. ‘Blasted oversight on someone’s part, I’d say. Wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘That’s a trick question to ask a guest.’

  ‘So, you don’t think that was an accidental oversight?’ He beckoned her. ‘Tell me the benefits of maturity. Those have never been explained to me in detail. Or in any convincing way.’ He stepped back. ‘I don’t think you can.’

  In one second, something flittered behind his gaze. A seriousness, immediately replaced by a carefree air, and a lopsided grin. She recognised the ruse. He was bent on distracting her, just as she’d wanted.

  Suddenly, she felt cosseted. She didn’t want to hurt, though, and only by playing the game would the relief continue.

  ‘I doubt I could. I doubt anyone could.’ She angled her head in a challenging pose.

  ‘Try.’

  She walked towards him. ‘Maturity. You either have it or you don’t.’

  He strode to the window, opened the curtains wide, propped his shoulder against the wall and regarded the night. ‘Well, that’s my excuse then.’

  She stationed herself at the other side of the curtains and copied his pose. She was so tired of standing.

  The jesting evaporated. ‘I’ve always been mature,’ she said. ‘I was born so. If the governess did not watch my sister or me closely, I would make certain that neither of us got into any trouble. In fact, the woman would usually nap during the day and I would wake her if my sister needed something I could not take care of. My mother once reprimanded me for not playing.’ She gave a quick glance to the ceiling. ‘She said I must let the governess do her job. So, I did. Except on rare occasions when I knew I must step in.’

  ‘I had a problem with my governess about play also.’ He flattened a fold of the curtain aside. ‘My governess fell asleep once, too. On the same day a poor mouse had met a disastrous fate in the stables. I took the mouse and tied a string on it and pulled it across her feet. She woke up, screeched and clouted me. I predicted she would keep silent as she’d smacked me.’

  ‘Did you tell your parents?’

  ‘No. I feared my father might take her side and I knew my mother would not appreciate the humour in my bringing a dead mouse into the house. So, I disposed of it just as the governess insisted.’ He took the curtain between two fingers of his right hand and waved it back and forth. ‘She didn’t tell me specifically not to put it under her bedcovers. After all, she had clouted me.’

  He dropped the curtain. ‘I had to spend the whole next day fetching things for her, and returning them, and when I refused and went to Mother... Mother sent me to the governess, telling me that no mice were allowed in the house and boys who brought them in would be forever fetching handkerchiefs or having to listen to their governess sing. My governess sang a lot of songs that day, mostly ones she made up about boys who had to be good...had to be good...had to be good, and she had a voice that permeated the walls and stuck like a knife in the ear. The mouse was not worth it.’

  ‘And if you had a child who did the same thing would you severely reprimand him
and silently congratulate him? Or just laugh?’

  He touched his chin with a knuckle on his left hand. ‘I would be concerned if I had a son who did not do such things. Much like your mother who told you to play. A child must be a child. Then they must be punished and taught to act like an adult. It’s the way of growth.’

  ‘Why? If you can skip that level of immaturity?’

  ‘Let us say that you received a double portion of adulthood at birth and I received none, and I have grown to the stage of acting as a man when I am with women, at social functions and when necessary. When I am with other men, I relax and revert to the way nature intended us to behave.’

  ‘That is a shame.’

  ‘Depends on your perspective.’ He straightened. ‘But I have the most enjoyment.’

  ‘Perhaps not,’ she challenged. ‘Perhaps I get my personal reward from being responsible at all times.’

  ‘Well, I fear that is something I may never know. But I do know how much enjoyment I get from being irresponsible.’ The grin returned and her heart bounced closer to the sky. He was an effective painkiller. Better than laudanum, though, perhaps, not as safe.

  She almost laughed. Perhaps all the medication hadn’t worn off. She pulled herself back to earth.

  ‘You get enjoyment to a degree from being irresponsible,’ she said. ‘Even you have boundaries. Everyone has limits. Some are just set further apart.’

  ‘You are right,’ he said. ‘You’re correct, as I hope you always are.’ He held up a pinch. ‘Your limits.’ He widened his fingers. ‘My limits.’

  ‘Truly?’ she asked.

  ‘Let me believe it. I would hate to think I’ve put all the adventures of my youth behind me.’

  ‘Well, you did jump into the flames earlier. I’m pleased you didn’t have a sensible reaction then.’

  ‘It was the only one possible, Miss Albright.’ He stared at the darkened window. ‘If I had left earlier...’ He shuddered. ‘I wanted to. My brothers had already left.’