Page 8 of The Viscount in her Bedroom
And were so many? How distressing, especially for a man who had always been at the center of feminine attention and admiration.
“And is there a reason a woman should be afraid?” she asked.
“A certain amount of people seem to believe blindness can be contagious.” Again, he tilted his head toward Miss Wade and laughed, as if she understood the irony.
But Miss Wade couldn’t respond because she was blinking back tears.
“Simon!” his grandmother said sternly. “Save such foolishness for the men, who might understand your sense of humor. Sit down and have tea with us.”
A maid had just entered, pushing a cart laden with a teapot and cups, and an array of biscuits. Louisa forced herself not to look at the viscount. She didn’t think it proper that she be there while he did something so personal as try to eat.
“I am not hungry, Grandmama,” Lord Wade said.
Lady Wade frowned, but said nothing.
“Manvil,” he added, “guide me to a chair, and I’ll release you to rest for a while.”
The only other nearby chair was next to Louisa. The servant expressionlessly guided his master there.
“It is just behind you, my lord,” he said quietly.
Lord Wade took a small step backward, and Louisa saw out of the corner of her eye the moment when his lower legs brushed the seat. Then he sat down smoothly.
Simon Wade controlled his resentment and frustration with a mastery that had been hard earned. How dare his grandmother hide the presence of a stranger from him? Even after all this time, he still felt shocked and strangely exposed whenever he discovered someone in his presence that he hadn’t known about. As if he were an actor in a play he was unaware of.
He told himself he was being ridiculous; he had not embarrassed himself this time. Only a few sentences had escaped his mouth while he was ignorant of her. And if his grandmother had a secret motive in hiring Miss Shelby, the woman might as well know it. And why hadn’t he trusted his own poor excuse for sight? Sometimes he could see vague shapes, and from where he’d entered the room, Miss Shelby would have been lit from behind by daylight. He’d probably seen a gray blob and thought it was furniture.
He could hear the clink of the china, smell the cinnamon in the biscuits. His grandmother was pouring tea and handing out plates. Georgie always refused to serve, since she inevitably spilled something.
He only hoped his stomach wouldn’t rumble with hunger. He was not eating in front of them, especially not in front of a stranger, not until he knew he wouldn’t make a fool of himself.
Miss Shelby wasn’t exactly a stranger. He’d conversed with her at David Thurlow’s home, and before that, seen her from across the room at several parties, although they hadn’t been introduced then. But how could any man not notice her? She had flaming red hair, the color unfashionable yet wildly alluring. She’d worn it up in exotic twists and curls pinned to the back of her head, and he wondered if she still wore it so. Surely every man had fantasized about letting it down. And then there were her eyes, as blue as the lake he still rowed across, fringed in brown lashes.
For a moment, he wondered how long he would remember what people looked like. Would it all fade away some day?
He shook his head to clear it of such maudlin thoughts. He was trying to learn to take each day one at a time, to not dwell on things he couldn’t change.
So he would think about Miss Shelby. Besides eating several family meals together, he had spent several hours playing croquet with her and her sisters at Banstead House, after her sister Victoria’s marriage to his friend. He’d been impressed that a woman with stylishness and beauty had had such a ready opinion that she expressed with easy humor. She had talked of everything from railroad investments to fashionable bonnets with an interest that had been contagious.
He remembered her healthy laugh, no missishness for her. And while she’d bent over to play croquet, he’d found himself studying her as if they’d never met before. She had a compact figure on her small frame, but her breasts had pleasantly bounced when she laughed. And the smell of her perfume, roses and something else, even now teased him with its subtlety. He’d been resigned to his celibate life, but this wasn’t helping.
Why had his grandmother hired her? Didn’t she know about the subtle rumors that had swirled around Louisa Shelby?
As the ladies discussed the delicious flavor of the biscuits, he tried to remember everything he’d heard. More than one man had claimed her fast, though his brother Leo had been first with the gossip, as usual. She had the artistry of a born flirt, and allowed several men to call on her regularly. Someone had even kissed her, and it was said that it was only a matter of time before she became even bolder. Every man was hoping to be the one she chose for that experiment.
Ah, but it was only the men who talked of her, not the women. That’s why Grandmama wouldn’t have heard the rumors.
When he heard Georgie laugh at something Miss Shelby said, his concern deepened. Should his sister associate with her too much, it would not reflect well on Georgie. And Georgie was no beauty, to easily overcome such rumors. It could damage her chance at a good marriage.
If Georgie hadn’t damaged it all on her own during her first Season.
He suddenly realized that his grandmother was calling his name. He’d been sitting there ruminating like a fool, and they’d just talked around him as if they were used to his silences.
“Forgive me, Grandmama,” he said. “My head is full of business today.”
“If you weren’t going to entertain us,” she said pleasantly, “and you don’t want to eat, why did you come?”
“I was working far too hard today and needed a distraction. And Miss Shelby is certainly that.”
