Page 5 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
As she and Sophie climbed into the carriage, Kate glanced across the road, then stopped short. A man she’d never seen before but who was undoubtedly either wealthy or a member of the aristocracy stepped down from the carriage opposite them and walked toward the entrance into the tailor's shop across the street.
He wasn’t classically handsome—his features were too harsh for that—but there was something captivating about his dark hair and eyes and the way he carried himself. Perhaps it was fanciful of Kate to think so, but it seemed as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and she wanted to know why.
“Kate, are you coming?” Sophie called from within the carriage.
Broken from the trance, Kate took the footman’s free hand and stepped up. “Do either of you know who that man across the road is?”
Both women looked out the window.
“What man?” Sophie asked.
“The tall gentleman wearing all black.”
Lady Carlisle was confused. “There’s no one there.”
Kate peeked out the window and slumped. He must have entered the tailor’s. She was tempted to suggest they sit there until he re-emerged, but that certainly wouldn’t be consideredappropriate behavior for an unmarried lady, so she resigned herself to waiting until later to learn her mystery man’s identity.
As the carriage trundled back toward Carlisle house, she couldn’t get the view of his profile out of her mind. Why did the set of his strong shoulders seem so sad? Who was he, and what secrets was he keeping?
CHAPTER 2
Lord Theodore Blackwell,Viscount Blackwell, ignored the urgent knocking on his office door as he continued reviewing the most recent ledgers for the Blackwell estate’s country house and tenant farms.
The door opened, and his brother, Nicholas, stuck his head through. “Come to dinner before you start gathering dust.”
Theo glanced up from the ledger. “I’m not finished yet.”
Nicholas waved dismissively. “It can wait. You can afford to stop working for half an hour. The estate won’t crumble if you pause for sustenance.”
Theo narrowed his eyes, tempted to make a snappish reply and resume ignoring him.
“Besides,” Nicholas continued, “your chair needs a respite. At this point, the poor thing must be on the verge of fusing to your backside, and lord knows I’ll never get you out of your office once it does.”
With a sigh, Theo rose and stretched. Nicholas did have a point. He’d been sitting for so long that his back and legs were beginning to feel chair shaped. The muscles between his shoulder blades were knotted, and his neck was stiff as he shifted his head from side to side.
“Fine, I’m coming.”
“Thank God.” Nicholas darted a look around as if worried their mother might hear him taking the lord’s name in vain. Not that he needed to worry. She was safely ensconced in their home in Oxfordshire.
Theo strode out of the room and found a maid hovering near Nicholas. As they walked down the corridor toward the dining room, she hurried into the office, presumably to pull the curtains to block out the rapidly descending darkness.
The corridor was lit by flickering candles, but despite the clusters of small flames, it was cold enough that he was glad to be wearing a coat. The fires must have been lit only recently so the house hadn’t warmed yet. In the dining room, only two placings had been laid out at the head of the table—one at the end and the other at the right-hand side.
Theo sat at the head of the table and Nicholas to his right. They’d been born only two minutes apart, but those crucial minutes had dictated who would become Viscount Blackwell. There were times when Theo wished that Nicholas had been born first. Not that his reckless brother cared much for responsibility.
Footmen lifted the covers on their plates, and he breathed in the aroma of chicken and vegetables. He thanked the servants, picked up his cutlery, and started on the chicken. It was tender and juicy, just as he liked it. He internally patted himself on the back at hiring such an excellent cook.
“I’m worried about you.”
Theo was so startled that he almost dropped his knife. “I beg your pardon?”
Nicholas grimaced but held his gaze, dark brown eyes locked on dark brown eyes. Staring at his brother was as good as looking into a mirror. “It’s not healthy for you to hide yourself away as you do and avoid anything fun.”
Theo’s jaw clenched, and he had to let out a long exhale before it relaxed enough to continue chewing. “I’m not hiding. Between parliament and managing the estate, I’m simply busy.”
Nicholas arched an eyebrow. “So busy that you don’t have enough spare time to attend the opera or flirt with any of the young, pretty women who’d love to keep you company?”
“Yes, I’m that busy.” Theo looked away under the guise of focusing on his meal. “I honestly have no time for whatever things you might consider to be fun.”
