The Viscount And The Virgin Part 6

Imogen was speech less.

Viscount Mildenhall sounded determined to make her his wife.

But she could not believe he wanted wanted to marry her! Any more than she wanted to...wanted to... She bit down on her lower lip and averted her face. to marry her! Any more than she wanted to...wanted to... She bit down on her lower lip and averted her face.

She could not deny there would be all kinds of ad vantages for her, if she accepted his proposal.

She wanted to leave town before she em broiled her poor dear aunt in some scandal. And marrying would be preferable to seeking employment. Mainly because her uncle and aunt would be so hurt if she demonstrated she would rather work as a governess than live in definitely under their care. But also because every time she had thought about approaching Lord Ked din ton, she'd had the sinking feeling that if she accepted a job he arranged for her, it would place her more deeply in his debt than she would like. This feeling was usually accompanied by a vision of a large sleek cat with a live bird struggling under its claws.

No, she would not be sorry not to have to go cap in hand to Lord Ked din ton.

But then, what would it be like to marry a man who held her in such contempt?

Viscount Mildenhall was mercifully silent all the way back from the park. Nor had she, in the end, voiced one more objection to his threat to make a formal offer for her hand.

'Well?' her aunt asked her the minute Imogen trudged in through the front door. 'Is the matter resolved? What did he say?'

Imogen drooped into the drawing room and sank onto a chair. 'He asked me to marry him,' she admitted.

Her aunt shrieked, clapped her hands to her cheeks and collapsed into another chair.

'I know,' said Imogen, shaking her head. 'It's unbelievable.'

But her aunt had re covered from the initial shock, and had leapt to her feet, beaming with pleasure. 'Oh, Imogen. Congratulations! Well done!'

It did not occur to her aunt, thought Imogen with resentment, that she might have turned down such a flattering offer. Nor her uncle, who breezed into the dining room that evening, positively gleeful over what he termed 'Imogen's conquest.' The atmosphere at the table was more convivial than Imogen could ever remember it being since she had gone to live there. She had finally, she observed with a sinking heart, managed to do something they approved of.

Drat the viscount for being right about this! She did not have the heart to disappoint them. In the end, with what her aunt declared was a becoming show of modesty, Imogen had bowed her head and accepted her uncle's congratulations in a muted voice.

'His Lords.h.i.+p will be coming to dine tomorrow night, so that we may all discuss arrangements,' her uncle informed them both as he sawed off a generous portion of game pie and tipped it onto his plate. 'Captain Bredon will accompany him.'

'Captain Bredon?' Lady Callandar echoed in astonishment. 'You have invited him to dine?'

Imogen felt as surprised as her aunt looked. But Lord Callandar quashed any further objections by stating, 'His Lords.h.i.+p is bringing him, as his guest.'

'Oh, well, in that case, of course...' her aunt trailed off, bowing her head over her plate in dutiful submission.

Imogen was sure her aunt would never have raised any objections to having her step brother to dine, had she ever plucked up the courage to risk rousing her uncle's displeasure by inviting him. It had only been surprise that had made her seem to question her husband's choice of dinner guest. But apparently, the fact that Rick numbered a viscount among his closest friends now outweighed the ignominy of his humble birth.

Lady Callandar did look somewhat anxious when Rick breached all codes of etiquette the minute he entered the house-striding into the drawing room and enveloping Imogen in an enthusiastic hug. fortunately, her uncle was too busy fussing around the viscount to even notice.

'I am so pleased for you, Midge,' Rick grinned. Then he leaned and whispered in her ear, 'You will like being married to Monty. Always thought the pair of you would suit.'

Imogen guiltily disentangled herself from his embrace. It was hard to know which was making her more uncomfortable; deceiving her brother or exposing her aunt to one of her uncle's tirades, by indulging in what he would term un acceptable behaviour in his drawing room.

Her aunt, seeing how uncomfortable she was, gamely tried to make light of the situation by swat ting Rick play fully with her fan, and saying, 'You are not in France now, Captain Bredon. We cannot have these continental habits creeping into our drawing rooms.'

Rick backed off, muttering apologies, a dull flush on his cheeks.

Imogen wished there was some thing she could say to smooth things over. It was not Rick's behaviour she found difficult. It was the situation with the viscount.

She schooled her features into an expression of polite welcome as she made her curtsy to Viscount Mildenhall.

He bowed over her hand, the epitome of a courteous suitor, but there was a look of such cynical amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes as he straightened up that Imogen wished she dared swat him with her own fan.

She mastered the impulse, out of consideration for her aunt's feelings, and the evening proceeded along utterly conventional lines.

'Do you have a date in mind for the wedding, my lord?' asked her aunt, as they took their places at the table.

'Before the week is out,' replied Viscount Mildenhall tersely. 'When Captain Bredon will be rejoining his regiment.'

'Oh, but that will leave no time to purchase bride clothes!' wailed Lady Callandar.

'But you have bought me so many pretty clothes already,' Imogen pointed out.

'Indeed,' Viscount Mildenhall put in smoothly. 'Miss Hebden is a credit to your good taste. She always looks quite...lovely.'

The telling pause as he sought for a suitable epithet to describe her appearance had Imogen grinding her teeth. He did not think she was lovely at all. Though she might be the only one who noticed, he had as good as said that anything praise worthy about her appearance was due to her aunt's good taste, not the raw material she had to work with!

However, on one thing they were in agreement. 'I do want to marry before Rick's furlough is over,' she put in, though it almost killed her to appear to side with the viscount. 'It will mean so much to have him to walk me down the aisle.'

'Don't be ridiculous, niece!' bl.u.s.tered Lord Callandar. 'I shall be giving you away. You are living under my roof and I am supporting you. Captain Bredon is not even a blood relative!' shall be giving you away. You are living under my roof and I am supporting you. Captain Bredon is not even a blood relative!'

'Forgive me, Miss Hebden,' put in Viscount Mildenhall in a voice that, though quiet, managed to cut straight through her uncle's hectoring tones, 'but I have already appropriated Rick for my groomsman.' He turned then to her aunt. 'And I am sorry to rob you of your shopping expedition, too, but I have promised my father to return to Shevington as soon as is humanly possible. However-' and he turned on his most dazzling smile '-we will be returning to town after a suitable interlude, and at that time my bride will require a whole new wardrobe to befit her new station in life. I am sure she will wish to involve you in carrying out the requisite purchases.'

Both her aunt and uncle subsided, vastly pleased with the viscount's suggestions.

Only Imogen still felt disgruntled. n.o.body was making any concessions to what she she wanted. It felt as though everyone she loved was ranged against her, on the viscount's side. wanted. It felt as though everyone she loved was ranged against her, on the viscount's side.

But worst of all, it had just hit her that she was going to become a viscountess. The notion was so absurd, she did not know whether to laugh or cry.

Since she was at the dinner table, she naturally did neither, but let the conversation flow round her without any further input.

When the ladies withdrew, her aunt wasted no time in letting her know she had erred, yet again.

'I know I have told you, time and time again, that it is not proper to display too much emotion in public, but I really think, on this occasion, that it would be permissible to look just a little pleased at your great good fortune. Your demeanour at table could have been interpreted as positively lukewarm.'

Imogen obediently mustered up a wan smile and, when the gentlemen joined them, set herself to being as pleasant as she could force herself to be. Viscount Mildenhall let no trace of the anti pa thy he felt towards her show at all; he was so charming towards her aunt and uncle, and on such very easy terms with Rick, that before long, she even began to wonder wistfully if, some where underneath all the finery and sarcasm she a.s.sociated with Viscount Mildenhall, the Monty she had once admired so much might still survive.

How differently she would feel towards this match, if he had approached her first as Monty, the hero of her girlhood dreams. If she could believe he was spiriting her away from London because he under stood how badly she wanted rescuing!

Instead of being determined to bury her in the country side, and 'keep her in line.'

The next morning, Lady Callandar came bustling into the drawing room with her hands full of lists she must have sat up well into the night compiling.

She wore a very smug smile as she offered the first one for Imogen's inspection.

'The guest list,' she explained.

'It is rather short,' Imogen observed.

'Yes,' replied her aunt with relish. 'It is going to be a very select gathering. very select gathering. Only family, and those who have shown them selves to be your friends. Oh,' she breathed, 'how I am going to enjoy with holding invitations from all those nasty-minded tattle-mongers who have snubbed you!' Only family, and those who have shown them selves to be your friends. Oh,' she breathed, 'how I am going to enjoy with holding invitations from all those nasty-minded tattle-mongers who have snubbed you!'

Imogen could not help smiling. She could just see her aunt dropping Viscount Mildenhall's name into future conversations. And dispersing tidbits of information about the ma.s.sively wealthy but reclusive Earl of Corfe's country seat of Shevington, where, she would boast, her dear, dear niece now resided!

'I include Mrs Leeming, and Lady Carteret, you see,' she pointed out their names on the sheet of paper Imogen now held. Rick's name had been included, as had that of Nicodemus Bredon, though he was but a humble lawyer's clerk.

'Lord Ked din ton, it goes without saying, and his dear daughters, who have taken such pains on your behalf.'

'And Lady Verity Carlow,' Imogen nodded. 'Yes, I should like to include her. She has always been truly kind to me.'

'And she is Lord Keddinton's G.o.d daughter too. It would not do to offend a man like him by omitting a connection of his.'

'Did you know her brother, that is Captain Carlow, is in town at the moment? He is a friend of Rick's.'

Her aunt pursed her lips. 'That could lead to some awkwardness. If we invite the younger Carlow merely because he is in town, we shall have no option but to invite the oldest one too. You are aware that he has married,' she swallowed, 'Helena Wardale. The daughter of your mother's...that is, your father's-'

'I know there may a little awkwardness,' Imogen hastily put in, to spare her aunt from having to speak of her father's gruesome murder or the part Helena's father had played in it, 'if she accepts the invitation to my wedding, but I truly hope she will come. She has done nothing for which she need be ashamed. It is not her fault that her father-'

'Well,' her aunt interrupted with false bright ness before words like adultery, murder adultery, murder or or execution execution could be uttered in her drawing room, 'it is most commendable of you to take such a for giving att.i.tude. I am sure I would not like to be at odds with any of the Carlows-' she lowered her voice and muttered '-no matter who they are married to. could be uttered in her drawing room, 'it is most commendable of you to take such a for giving att.i.tude. I am sure I would not like to be at odds with any of the Carlows-' she lowered her voice and muttered '-no matter who they are married to.

'There!' she declared, adding the names to the list. 'We shall invite them all.'

Imogen did not think there was anything particularly commendable about her att.i.tude. She just felt a strong sense of kins.h.i.+p with the daughter of the man who had been hanged for killing Kit Hebden. Though neither girl had anything to do with the crime, they had both lived under the shadow of scandal all their lives. True, Helena now had a place in Society again, but it was only as the wife of Marcus Carlow, Viscount Stanegate. Imogen had no idea what terrible fate might have befallen Helena's older brother and sister who, to all intents and purposes, seemed to have dropped off the face of the earth.

And far from believing she had any for giving to do, Imogen often wondered if Helena was the one who might bear a grudge against Amanda Herriard's daughter. Helena had lost her father, her home and her position, because of that doomed love affair.

The days until Imogen's wedding flew by in a frenzy of organization. A Society wedding held at St George's in Hanover Square, followed by a sumptuous reception for the select portion of Society who had merited an invitation, required a good deal of planning.

And though there was not time to shop for a complete trousseau, Lady Callandar insisted she have just one new gown. She managed to get her modiste to conjure up a wedding dress that was a dreamy confection of soft creamy lace over an ivory satin under dress. Some poor seam stress must have sat up until all hours st.i.tching on all the tiny seed pearls that decorated the snugly fitting bodice. The full-length, narrow sleeves ended in points, which came down over the backs of her hands, were also studded with seed pearls in a swirling design.

'It is so lovely,' Imogen said, wis.h.i.+ng she could give her aunt a hug when she came into her room on the eve of her wedding, to check over all her lists one last time.

'You really have worked miracles over these last few days, Aunt.'

Lady Callandar signalled the maid who had come in behind her to deposit the tray on a console table by the door, before saying, with some satisfaction, 'Yes. I have every confidence that even though we threw this whole thing together at the last minute, it will pa.s.s off smoothly.' She dismissed the maid, took the gla.s.ses of rich ruby port from the tray, and carried them over to the bed, where Imogen was reclining.

'I do not know how much your mother may have told you,' she said, handing Imogen one of the gla.s.ses and perching on the edge of the bed, 'about the Duties of a Wife.'

Most people would think Amanda had told her young daughter far too much about what it was like to be married to a h.e.l.l-raising rake. Imogen saw her mother as she had been during the last days of her life, her eyes glittering with pain as she catalogued every detail of her own disastrous marriage and begged her not to make the same mistakes.

But she very much feared that was exactly what she had done. From the very first moment she had clapped eyes on him, she had thought Viscount Mildenhall the most compellingly handsome man she had ever seen. Even discovering what an unpleasant nature he had, had done nothing to quench the fizz that a mere glimpse of him could start running through her.

And then he had kissed her.

To such devastating effect, she had agreed to marry him. Oh, she might have told herself she was merely falling in with what everyone expected of her. But she had a niggling suspicion that there were plenty of selfish reasons for marrying him, too. She had been guilty, when he had dined with the family, of sneaking peeks at his handsome profile when she was sure n.o.body else was watching her. Letting her eyes linger on those full, red lips. Recalling the episode on the terrace. And experiencing a very strong wish to soothe the mark her teeth had put there. And when he had looked up from his plate, and their eyes had met, a thrill had shot right through her, rendering her breath less for several seconds.

She could not even summon up the will power to dislike him any more. Even his arrogant a.s.sertion that he was a catch now only seemed like a bald statement of the truth. He could could have married anyone he wanted! Yet he had, as a gesture of friend s.h.i.+p to Rick, made the truly n.o.ble sacrifice of marrying a girl he did not like one bit. have married anyone he wanted! Yet he had, as a gesture of friend s.h.i.+p to Rick, made the truly n.o.ble sacrifice of marrying a girl he did not like one bit.

Seeing the downcast expression on her niece's face, Lady Callandar took a fortifying sip from her own gla.s.s.

'Well, I am sure it will not be so bad for you, my dear, as it evidently was for your mother. I am sure Viscount Mildenhall will be able to set your pulses racing when he kisses you.'

To hear her aunt speaking aloud of kissing Viscount Mildenhall, when that was exactly what she had been thinking about, made Imogen's face flood with heat.

'Ah!' cried her eagle-eyed aunt. 'So he had kissed you already, has he, the young rogue!'

'Y-yes, Aunt,' Imogen confessed. 'I am so sorry...'

'Well, never mind,' she said magnanimously. 'You are to be married, after all, and I can see that the prospect of becoming more intimate with him is not repugnant to you. Which is a good start. I should think that the first few weeks of your marriage, at least, should prove most enjoyable.' She sighed, and a faraway look came into her eyes. 'Ah, what it is to be a young bride, married to an energetic, well-put-together young man like that! Although-' she gave herself a little shake '-you must not make the mistake of thinking, because of the amount of time he spends with you, and the level of intimacy you will share, that he may be doing anything so vulgar as falling in love with you.'

From the way her aunt's shoulders drooped, Imogen wondered whether the older woman was talking about her own experience of marriage. There were still traces of the handsome man her uncle had once been, beneath the layers of flab that years of self-indulgence had added to his frame. She could just imagine her aunt as a young bride, marrying with high hopes, then having them dashed by her uncle's selfish, tyrannical att.i.tude towards her.

'We all know,' her aunt continued in a rallying tone, 'that Viscount Mildenhall has chosen you primarily because you are the sister of one of his closest friends. And because you are a healthy, energetic young woman who is likely to give him the heirs his father is so keen to see him produce. For those reasons, he is prepared to overlook your lack of dowry. Or so he told your uncle.'

Ah. No wonder Lord Callandar had looked so pleased. He had managed to get his trouble some niece off his hands without having to dip into his pockets to induce somebody to marry her.

She sighed. She had long since accepted she was nothing like her mother, who had been so beautiful that she inspired men to the heights of pa.s.sion. Not, she shuddered, that she wanted to cause men to fight over her. Or kill one another for love of her. But it would be nice to think she might stir just a little bit of admiration in her groom's breast.

Her aunt, misinterpreting that shudder, was instantly full of sympathy. 'It is the main duty of a wife to provide her husband with sons. It is a compliment to you, my dear, that out of all the women he might have chosen, Viscount Mildenhall picked you.'

He did not pick her, so much as give in to Rick's pleading to find a home for poor little Midge, she thought, slumping down into her pillows.

'Oh, Imogen,' Lady Callandar sighed tearily, 'I know you are a very affection ate girl, but you must not look for that sort of love within marriage. Especially not from Viscount Mildenhall. From what I have observed of him since he came into the t.i.tle, he takes after his mother, the Earl of Corfe's second wife. She was a cold, proud woman.' Her aunt grimaced. 'Though that match was arranged by his parents, so it was hardly surprising they barely spoke to one another once she had presented him with a son. No, what you must hope for is that, in time, you will come to an easy understanding which will lead to a lifelong friend s.h.i.+p.'

Perhaps that might be possible. Once he had a chance to get to know her, he would see she was nothing like he had so far imagined! And once he stopped being so suspicious of her...

Lady Callandar reached out and stroked a stray curl from her forehead. 'Knowing you, the first time he strays you will experience agonizing jealousy. But on no account, my dear, must you create the kind of scene that will make your husband uncomfortable. No matter how many little affairs he may have, what you must remember is that you will always be his wife. His viscountess. It is equally important,' she ploughed on, in spite of Imogen's shocked gasp, 'that you do not indulge your craving for affection until you have presented your husband with an heir. Even your mother, silly creature that she was, managed to wait until she had given birth to a healthy boy.'

'It was not like that! She did not mean to have an affair with Lord Leybourne. It just happened!'

Lady Callandar pursed her lips. 'These things never just happen just happen, Imogen.'

Imogen flung herself back against the pillows, a scowl on her face. Her aunt did not understand what it had been like for her mother; that was the trouble.

'It was madness, Imo,' Amanda had sighed, though her eyes had been alight with an emotion Imogen had not been able to decipher. 'We knew what we were doing was wrong, but, oh, we could not deny our selves just a few s.n.a.t.c.hed hours of hap pi ness out of the waste land Kit had made of my life.' She had sighed and plucked at the coverlet with her emaciated, yellowed hand. 'Not that your father cared one whit,' she had pouted. 'He thought it was a huge joke. He mocked William for being able to stomach touching me when I was pregnant. He taunted me with ac counts of his current mistress. About her taut stomach and firm b.r.e.a.s.t.s. But William defended me.' She sighed wistfully. 'I remember Kit sitting at my dressing table, mopping at a cut over his eye with one of my handkerchiefs and laughing about the impressive physical prowess of the lover I had taken, and-' she had shuddered disgustedly '-saying he was quite looking forward to discovering whether William had managed to teach me any new tricks. He said that if I had learned to be a little more enterprising, then he might not find it such a ch.o.r.e to resume his marital duties once I had delivered his child. That I might look forward to receiving more of his attention-' The feverish confession had ended in a fit of coughing, as it so often did.

Imogen tried to shut out the image of her mother's wasted frame, but she could not silence her words. Not when they chimed so exactly with what her aunt was warning her marrying into the n.o.bility would entail.

'I do concede,' her aunt admitted, 'that there were extenuating circ.u.mstances. I remember that the Earl of Leybourne was your mother's most ardent admirer, until Baron Framlingham came onto the scene. The woman he married was nowhere near so beautiful as your mother, and I suppose, when they were all thrown together by that Home Office business-'

'Yes!' Imogen sat up and grasped her aunt's hand. 'He told her that although he had tried to be a good husband, the feelings he had for his first love had never completely died. And she said the moment she saw him again, she was filled with regret for the choices she had made, and wished she could some how wipe away all the years of misery she had suffered with Kit. They went outside into the garden, and she wept all over him, and he tried to comfort her, and...'

'I suppose she told you one thing led to another,' said her aunt dryly. 'But I have to inform you that n.o.body just falls into an affair. They choose it. For whatever reason. Boredom or revenge, or as in your mother's case,' she added wistfully, 'perhaps for comfort.' She visibly took herself in hand, before saying bracingly, 'Imogen I do hope you will take your mother's fate as a warning. You must not yearn for the un.o.btainable in your marriage. Strive instead to be content with what you have.'

On these words, her aunt left the room, leaving Imogen sickened at the prospect of enduring the kind of marriage her aunt had just outlined. Where she was expected to turn a blind eye to her husband's infidelity, as her aunt clearly had to whenever her uncle strayed, and count herself lucky anybody had deigned to marry her in the first place!

She was the very last person in the world who ought to become a viscountess!