The Viscount Who Loved Me (24 page)

Mr. Berbrooke blinked a few times.

“Do you even know what is
wrong
with your curricle?”

Berbrooke’s mouth opened and closed a few more times, and then he said, “I have a few ideas. Shouldn’t take terribly long to figure out which is the actual problem.”

Kate stared at Anthony, fascinated by the vein leaping in his throat. She had never before seen a man so clearly pushed to his limit. Feeling not a little apprehensive at the impending explosion, she took a prudent half step behind Edwina.

She didn’t like to think herself a coward, but self-preservation was another matter entirely.

But the viscount somehow managed to keep himself under control, and his voice was terrifyingly even as he said, “This is what we’re going to do.”

Three pairs of eyes widened in expectation.

“I am going to walk over there”—he pointed at a lady and gentleman about twenty yards away who were trying not to stare but not succeeding—“and ask Montrose if I might borrow his carriage for a few minutes.”

“I say,” Berbrooke said, craning his neck, “is that Geoffrey Montrose? Haven’t seen him for an age.”

A second vein started leaping, this time on Lord Bridgerton’s temple. Kate grasped Edwina’s hand for moral support and held tight.

But Bridgerton, to his credit, ignored Berbrooke’s exceedingly inappropriate interjection and continued with, “Since he will say yes—”

“Are you sure?” Kate blurted out.

Somehow his brown eyes resembled icicles. “Am I sure of what?” he bit off.

“Nothing,” she mumbled, ready to kick herself. “Please continue.”

“As I was saying, since as a friend and a gentleman”—he glared at Kate—“he will say yes, I will take Miss Sheffield home and then
I
will return home and have one of my men return Montrose’s curricle.”

No one bothered to ask which Miss Sheffield he was talking about.

“What about Kate?” Edwina inquired. After all, the curricle could only seat two.

Kate gave her hand a squeeze. Dear, sweet Edwina.

Anthony looked straight at Edwina. “Mr. Berbrooke will escort your sister home.”

“But I can’t,” Berbrooke said. “Got to finish with the curricle, you know.”

“Where do you live?” Anthony snapped.

Berbrooke blinked with surprise but gave his address.

“I will stop by your house and fetch a servant to wait with your conveyance while you escort Miss Sheffield to her home. Is that clear?” He paused and looked at everyone—including the dog—with a rather hard expression. Except for Edwina, of course, who was the only person present who had not lit a fuse directly under his temper.

“Is that clear?” he repeated.

Everyone nodded, and his plan was set into motion. Minutes later, Kate found herself watching Lord Bridgerton and Edwina ride off into the horizon—the very two people she had vowed should never even be in the same room together.

Even worse, she was left alone with Mr. Berbrooke and Newton.

And it took only two minutes to discern that of the two, Newton was the finer conversationalist.

B
y that evening, it had become apparent that Edwina had not come through her (albeit brief) ordeal unscathed. Her nose turned red, her eyes began to water, and it was apparent to anyone who glimpsed her puffy face for even a second that, while not seriously ill, she’d caught a bad cold.

But even while Edwina was tucked into bed with a hot water bottle between her feet and a therapeutic potion brewed up by the cook in a mug on her bedside table, Kate
was determined to have a conversation with her.

“What did he say to you on the ride home?” Kate demanded, perching on the edge of her sister’s bed.

“Who?” Edwina replied, sniffing fearfully at the remedy. “Look at this,” she said, holding it forward. “It’s giving off fumes.”

“The viscount,” Kate ground out. “Who else would have spoken to you on the ride home? And don’t be a ninny. It’s not giving off fumes. That’s just steam.”

“Oh.” Edwina took another sniff and pulled a face. “It doesn’t smell like steam.”

“It’s
steam
,” Kate ground out, gripping the mattress until her knuckles hurt. “What did he
say
?”

“Lord Bridgerton?” Edwina asked blithely. “Oh, just the usual sort of things. You know what I mean. Polite conversation and all that.”

“He made polite conversation while you were dripping wet?” Kate asked doubtfully.

Edwina took a hesitant sip, then nearly gagged. “What is
in
this?”

Kate leaned over and sniffed at the contents. “It smells a bit like licorice. And I think I see a raisin at the bottom.” But as she sniffed, she thought she heard rain pattering against the glass of the window, and so she sat back up. “Is it raining?”

“I don’t know,” Edwina said. “It might be. It was rather cloudy when the sun set earlier.” She gave the glass one more dubious look, then set it back on the table. “If I drink that, I
know
it will make me sicker,” she stated.

“But what else did he say?” Kate persisted, getting up to check out the window. She pushed the curtain aside and peered out. It was raining, but only lightly, and it was too early to tell whether the precipitation would be accompanied by any thunder or lightning.

“Who, the viscount?”

Kate thought herself a saint for not shaking her sister senseless. “Yes, the viscount.”

Edwina shrugged, clearly not as interested in the conversation as Kate. “Not much. He asked for my welfare, of course. Which was only reasonable, considering that I had just been dunked in The Serpentine. Which, I might add, was perfectly wretched. Aside from being cold, the water was most certainly not clean.”

Kate cleared her throat and sat back down, preparing to ask a most scandalous question, but one which, in her opinion, simply had to be asked. Trying to keep her voice devoid of the complete and total fascination that was coursing through her veins, she asked, “Did he make any untoward advances?”

Edwina lurched back, her eyes growing round with shock. “Of course not!” she exclaimed. “He was a perfect gentleman. Really, I don’t see what has you so excited. It wasn’t a very interesting conversation. I can’t even remember half of what was said.”

Kate just stared at her sister, unable to fathom that she could have been trapped in conversation with that odious rake for a good ten minutes and it
didn’t
make an indelible impression on her. Much to her own everlasting dismay, every single awful word he’d said to her was etched permanently on her brain.

“By the way,” Edwina added, “how was your time with Mr. Berbrooke? It took you nearly an hour to return.”

Kate shuddered visibly.

“That bad?”

“I’m sure he will make some woman a good husband,” Kate said. “Just not one with a brain.”

Edwina let out a little giggle. “Oh, Kate, you are awful.”

Kate sighed. “I know. I know. That was terribly cruel of me. The poor man hasn’t an unkind bone in his body. It’s just that—”

“He hasn’t an intelligent bone, either,” Edwina finished.

Kate raised her brows. It was most unlike Edwina to make such a judgmental comment.

“I know,” Edwina said with a sheepish smile. “Now I am the unkind one. I really shouldn’t have said a word, but truly, I thought I would perish on our curricle ride.”

Kate straightened with concern. “Was he a dangerous driver?”

“Not at all. It was his conversation.”

“Boring?”

Edwina nodded, her blue eyes slightly bewildered. “He was so hard to follow it was almost fascinating to try to figure out how his mind works.” She let out a stream of coughs, then added, “But it made my brain hurt.”

“So he’s not to be your perfect scholar-husband?” Kate said with an indulgent smile.

Edwina coughed some more. “I’m afraid not.”

“Maybe you should try a bit more of that brew,” Kate suggested, motioning to the lonely mug sitting on Edwina’s bedside table. “Cook swears by it.”

Edwina shook her head violently. “It tastes like death.”

Kate waited a few moments, then had to ask, “Did the viscount say anything about me?”

“You?”

“No, some other me,” Kate practically snapped. “Of course
me
. How many other people may I correctly refer to as ‘me’?”

“No need to get upset about it.”

“I’m not upset—”

“But actually, no, he didn’t mention you.”

Kate suddenly felt upset.

“He had a lot to say about Newton, though.”

Kate’s lips parted with dismay. It was never flattering to be passed over for a dog.

“I assured him that Newton is truly the perfect pet, and that I was not at all angry with him, but he was rather charmingly upset on my behalf.”

“How charming,” Kate muttered.

Edwina grabbed a handkerchief and blew her nose. “I say, Kate, you’re rather interested in the viscount.”

“I did spend practically the entire afternoon trapped in conversation with him,” Kate replied, as if that ought to explain everything.

“Good. Then you’ve had a chance to see how polite and charming he can be. He’s very wealthy, too.” Edwina let out a loud sniffle, then fumbled around for a fresh handkerchief. “And while I don’t think that one can choose a husband based entirely on finances, given our lack of funds, I would be remiss not to consider it, don’t you think?”

“Well…” Kate hedged, knowing that Edwina was absolutely correct but not wanting to say anything that might be construed as approval of Lord Bridgerton.

Edwina brought the handkerchief to her face and gave her nose a rather unfeminine blow. “I think we should add him to our list,” she said, snuffling over the words.

“Our list,” Kate echoed, her voice strangled.

“Yes, of possible matches. I think he and I would suit very well.”

“But I thought you wanted a scholar!”

“I did. I do. But you yourself pointed out the unlikelihood of my finding a true scholar. Lord Bridgerton seems intelligent enough. I’ll just have to devise a way to discover if he likes to read.”

“I’d be surprised if that boor
can
read,” Kate muttered.

“Kate Sheffield!” Edwina exclaimed with a laugh. “Did you just say what I think you said?”

“No,” Kate said baldly, because of course the viscount could read. But he was just so awful in every other way.

“You did,” Edwina accused. “You are the
worst,
Kate.” She smiled. “But you do make me laugh.”

A low rumble of distant thunder echoed in the night, and Kate forced a smile on her face, trying not to flinch. She was usually all right when the thunder and lightning were far away. It was only when they came one on top of each other, and both seemingly on top of her, that she felt as if she were about to burst from her skin.

“Edwina,” Kate said, needing to have this discussion with her sister but also needing to say something that would take her mind off the approaching storm, “you must put the viscount from your mind. He is absolutely not the sort of husband who would make you happy. Aside from the fact that he is the worst sort of rake and would probably flaunt a dozen mistresses in your face—”

At Edwina’s frown, Kate cut off the rest of her sentence and decided to expand upon this point. “He would!” she said with great drama. “Haven’t you been reading
Whistledown
? Or listening to anything any of the other young ladies’ mamas have to say? The ones who have been on the social circuit for several years and know what’s what. They
all
say he is a terrible rake. That his only saving grace is how nicely he treats his family.”

“Well, that would be a mark in his favor,” Edwina pointed out. “Since a wife would be family, yes?”

Kate nearly groaned. “A wife isn’t the same as a blood relative. Men who would never dream of uttering a cross word in front of their mothers trample all over their wives’ feelings every day.”

“And how would you know this?” Edwina demanded.

Kate’s mouth fell open. She couldn’t remember the last time Edwina had questioned her judgment on an important matter, and unfortunately, the only answer she could think of on such short notice was, “I just do.”

Which, even she had to admit, really didn’t pass muster.

“Edwina,” she said in a placating voice, deciding to steer the topic in a different direction, “aside from all that, I don’t think you would even like the viscount if you got to know him.”

“He seemed pleasant enough while driving me home.”

“But he was on his best behavior!” Kate persisted. “Of course he’d seem nice. He wants you to fall in love with him.”

Edwina blinked. “So you think it was all an act.”

“Exactly!” Kate exclaimed, pouncing on the concept.
“Edwina, between last night and this afternoon, I spent several hours in his company, and I can assure you, he was
not
on his best behavior with me.”

Edwina gasped with horror and maybe a little titillation. “Did he kiss you?” she breathed.

“No!” Kate howled. “Of course not! Where on earth would you get that idea?”

“You said he wasn’t on his best behavior.”

“What I meant,” Kate ground out, “was that he wasn’t polite. Nor was he very nice. In fact, he was insufferably arrogant and dreadfully rude and insulting.”

“That’s interesting,” Edwina murmured.

“It wasn’t the least bit interesting. It was horrible!”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Edwina said, thoughtfully scratching her chin. “It’s very odd that he would have behaved rudely to you. He must have heard that I shall be looking to your judgment when I choose a husband. One would think he’d go out of his way to be nice to you. Why,” she mused, “would he behave the churl?”

Kate’s face colored a dull red—thankfully not so noticeable in the candlelight—as she muttered, “He said he couldn’t help himself.”

Edwina’s mouth fell open, and for one second she sat utterly frozen, as if suspended in time. Then she fell back onto her pillows, hooting with laughter. “Oh, Kate!” she gasped. “That is splendid! Oh, what a tangle. Oh, I love it!”

Kate glared at her. “It’s not funny.”

Edwina wiped at her eyes. “It might be the funniest thing I’ve heard all month. All year! Oh, my goodness.” She let out a short stream of coughs, brought on by her laughing fit. “Oh, Kate, I do believe you might have cleared out my nose.”

“Edwina, that’s disgusting.”

Edwina brought her handkerchief to her face and blew her nose. “But true,” she said triumphantly.

“It won’t last,” Kate muttered. “You’ll be sick as a dog by morning.”

“You’re probably right,” Edwina agreed, “but oh, what fun. He said he couldn’t help himself? Oh, Kate, that is just rich.”

“There is no need to dwell on it,” Kate grumbled.

“Do you know, but he might be the very first gentleman we’ve met all season you haven’t been able to manage.”

Kate’s lips twisted into a grimace. The viscount had used the same word, and they were both correct. She’d indeed spent the season managing men—managing them for Edwina. And she suddenly wasn’t so sure she liked this role of mother hen she’d been thrust into.

Or maybe she’d thrust herself into it.

Edwina saw the play of emotion on her sister’s face and immediately turned apologetic. “Oh, dear,” she murmured. “I’m sorry, Kate. I didn’t mean to tease.”

Kate arched a brow.

“Oh, very well, I did mean to tease, but never to actually hurt your feelings. I had no idea Lord Bridgerton had upset you so.”

“Edwina, I just don’t like the man. And I don’t think you should even consider marrying him. I don’t care how ardently or how persistently he pursues you. He will not make a good husband.”

Edwina was silent for a moment, her magnificent eyes utterly sober. Then she said, “Well, if you say so, it must be true. I have certainly never been steered wrong by your judgment before. And, as you said, you have spent more time in his company than have I, so you would know better.”

Kate let out a long and ill-disguised sigh of relief. “Good,” she said firmly. “And when you are feeling more the thing, we shall look among your current suitors for a better match.”

“And maybe you could look for a husband, too,” Edwina suggested.

“Of course I’m always looking,” Kate insisted. “What
would be the point of a London season if I weren’t looking?”

Edwina looked dubious. “I don’t think you
are
looking, Kate. I think that all you do is interview possibilities for me. And there is no reason you shouldn’t find a husband as well. You need a family of your own. I certainly can’t imagine anyone more suited to be a mother than you.”