Page 8 of When the Viscount Seduces
“Certainly.” She walked to a compact settee covered in a floral pattern set against dark green. She sat and he joined her there, which made them rather cozy. Her heart continued its rapid pace.
“I hope you won’t think me too forward,” he began, his eyes crinkling as he smiled.
Forward.Gwen’s imagination began to leap.
Angling himself toward her, he went on, “I wondered if we might help one another. You seem as though you could benefit from some…support this Season, and I’m in need of someone to help me with a…delicate matter.” He flinched, his neck twitching as his head tipped slightly. It was a movement of unease. Whatever the matter, it bothered him.
“I can’t imagine what I could help you with,” she said with a light laugh. Somerton seemed…perfect.
“It’s extremely personal,” he said quietly. “Indeed, no one is aware of this…problem. At least not the extent of it.”
Concern and sympathy overtook everything else in Gwen’s mind as she inched closer to the viscount. “How can I help?”
He seemed to relax, his shoulders settling—but only briefly. As he started to speak again, the tension returned and he did not meet her gaze. “I am not a good reader.” He exhaled, and his pulse worked along his throat as if he were upset. He flicked his eyes toward hers, but only briefly. “That was difficult to confess aloud.”
Gwen could see that, and she felt an instant and necessary urge to comfort him. And help him, if she could. “It is very brave of you to do so,” she murmured. She also had questions. “What does that mean exactly? Can you read?”
“Yes, but it is laborious. I’m appallingly slow. I usually have my secretary read everything and give me a verbal summation. He believes I just don’t care to read, as does everyone else.” Gentle lines formed across Somerton’s brow. “And no one questions that, given my reputation.”
Gwen wasn’t certain of the entirety of that reputation, just that he was a rogue. Perhaps he had a different reputation among his peers. “Does that go beyond your roguish tendencies?”
He looked out the window but didn’t appear to focus on anything. “I’m generally regarded as an unserious member of the House of Lords, more intent on my wardrobe or what horse I’m riding or vehicle I’m driving.” His gaze moved back to her, and she could see he was anythingbutunserious. “I should like to be a more active member in the Lords, but it’s difficult.”
“Because you read slowly,” she said. “And you’re hiding that fact.”
An expression of alarm passed over his features. “Can you imagine what people would say if they knew?”
Gwen knew that people talked about her…deficiencies. Would they do the same to a viscount? Probably. People could be cruel.
“No one needs to know.” She gave him an encouraging smile. “But I’m not sure I can really help you.”
“Your brother said you can read multiple books in a day. I was hoping you might be able to help. Or at least try.” He sounded hopeful, but there was a measured quality to his gaze, as if he were preparing himself for disappointment.
“Of course, I can try. I’d be delighted.” And she meant it. “I would have gladly extended whatever help I can offer without your assistance in return.”
“That is most kind of you,” he said softly. “I’m sure I don’t need to say this, but this arrangement must stay between us.”
She cocked her head. “How do you plan to help me exactly? By swooping in and saving me from future disasters? By dancing with me?”
He rested his arm on the back of the settee. “By paying you attention and showing the ton that you are a highly desirable young lady.”
Gwen was aware of his bare hand so near to her head. He’d obviously left his hat with a footman and apparently his gloves too. From the corner of her eye, she saw that his hands were large, his fingers long and slender. They would surely fly over the keys of a pianoforte. Unlike hers, which never moved as agilely as she wanted them to. At least not with the musical instrument. With a paintbrush, she was able to create art. Or something resembling it.
Clasping her hands in her lap, she said, “As it happens, my mother was just informing me that we are going to Bath for the remainder of the Season.”
His eyes rounded and his nostrils flared. “Then how can you agree to help me?”
“I will convince my mother that we should stay, that all is not lost.” Gwen glanced toward the sitting room and recalled her mother’s curiosity regarding Somerton’s call. “My mother likely wonders if you wish to court me since you came calling. And danced with me last night.”
“I see.” He looked toward the window again, his expression contemplative. “Icouldcourt you, but I would hate to cause any ill will when we do not wed. Though, my goal is to ensure you are in high demand, that you will have many suitors. You will have your choice of husband.”
“I don’t share your confidence, particularly since I plan to be discerning. I won’t accept just anyone.”
His hand moved from the settee to her jaw, where he lightly grazed his fingertips against her. “Nor should you, Miss Price. Do not sell yourself short. You are beautiful, witty, and I have it on great authority that your dancing is quite passable.”
Though Gwen was distracted by his touch—in a lovely and somewhat confusing way since this was her brother’s friend who had no romantic interest in her whatsoever—she laughed at his description of her. “You flatter me. Or tease me. None of what you said is true.”
He gasped in mock distress. “It’s all true, and I am offended you would think otherwise.”
