Vexed by a Viscount (5 page)

“Restraint is a virtue,” she replied, before blowing out a small unladylike sigh and smiling wryly. “I cannot abide any sort of conflict in my life. It’s always been easier to do as my parents asked, and to behave as expected. It’s not as though I have any grand plans outside of those expectations, at any rate.”

“Save for eating cake, of course.”

She smiled. “Yes, there is that.”

He straightened abruptly, leveling the full force of his handsome brown eyes directly on her. It was rather dazing. “You, Miss Landon, shall eat cake. Will you meet me tomorrow at the property line?”

Her mouth fell open just a bit before she had the wherewithal to pull herself together. “You wish to see me eat cake?”

“I wish to eat cake
with
you. And I wish to provide it. What time works for you?”

She bit her lip, trying to hold back the little thrill of excitement that raced through her at the look in his eye. He was not only serious, he actually looked somewhat indignant on her behalf. No one had ever been indignant on her behalf. The only champion she’d ever had was herself, and she was doing a terrible job of it.

“You really needn’t—”

“Eat cake?” he interrupted, a devilish grin tilting the corners of his lips. “Yes, I need to. One should always eat cake. And if you won’t meet me, then I will be forced to share with the birds because no matter what, I shall be at the path between our properties at three tomorrow afternoon, cake in hand, so you might as well join me.”

Good heavens.
She looked up into his eyes, astonished and thrilled and more than a little giddy that he should actually care about her and her list. “Very well, then. I shall see you at three.”

“Excellent,” he said, thrusting out his arm once more. “Now I suppose we should get back to the party.” There was no mistaking the sarcasm the word held. Obviously the evening hadn’t been his idea of entertainment.

Without a word, she slipped her hand over his sleeve and allowed him to guide them back toward the house. All the while, she reveled in the feeling of being
seen
. Paid attention to. Perhaps even cared about.

Another thing she could add to her list of adventures: Be thrilled by a viscount.

A
shby didn’t know why he should be so bothered by Miss Landon’s situation, but he was. Truly—whose life goal was to eat an entire piece of cake, for God’s sake? He wondered if the girl had ever had a day in her life when she could simply relax and enjoy life

Combined with the fact that she would soon be yoked to the squire—who was as well matched to her as a fish would be to a cat—Ash wanted nothing more than to give the poor girl her little adventures.

After all, he was well versed in the art of enjoying oneself. He was lucky to have inherited—by all accounts, since he himself couldn’t remember—his mother’s lighthearted manner. He had no need for the power-grasping lifestyle of those like his father, nor the more staid, rule-abiding existence of people like the Landons.

What was the point of life if not for a little enjoyment?

With his betrothed still in the schoolroom and his responsibilities far in the future, he savored every minute of his life these days. Live for the present,
carpe diem
, et cetera. Clearly he was the perfect candidate to help Miss Landon.

He arrived at the door just as the butler swung it open. As he divested himself of his hat and coat, he said, “Evening, Tolbert. Fetch Cook for me, would you?”

The older man didn’t show a hint of emotion. “As you wish, my lord. It might take a moment, as she has retired for the evening.”

Yes, of course she had. Ash hadn’t considered the fact that it was after ten and the kitchen staff generally rose before the sun. “No, don’t bother her. But do convey to her that I would like an assortment of cakes for tomorrow afternoon. Two or three should suffice.”

Tolbert nodded. “It will be done, my lord. Is there anything else you require this evening?”

“For you to retire as well,” Ash said with a grin. “Thank you for your excellent service as always, and I bid you good night.”

The tiny lift to the butler’s eyebrow was akin to an eye roll from anyone else. None of the servants saw him as anything more than the young, mischievous boy he had once been. Not that Ash really blamed them.

Aside from the fact they had known him since he was an infant, he was in the exceedingly unusual situation of having an older brother, yet being the heir. Nicolas was technically Ash’s stepbrother, but he had come into the family when Ash was only five, so he really didn’t have any memories of a time when he hadn’t looked up to his older brother. As a result, no one save the earl had ever really looked to Ash as a future authority figure. Even Ash had a hard time picturing himself as lord of the manor someday.

Just as he had a hard time picturing himself as a husband someday. He wasn’t opposed to the match—Tabitha was a sweet, lovely girl, to be sure—but she was still too young to imagine her as his wife just yet. When she turned eighteen in two years, he was hoping the age gap wouldn’t seem so wide. Maybe then she would seem less like a younger sister or cousin and more like a partner.

It was a rather large
maybe
.

But he was lucky. At least he wasn’t facing a thirty-year age gap like poor Miss Landon. Sighing, he scraped his hand through his hair. She would have her cake, and she would have her dance, and she would get drunk as a broken wheelbarrow, by God. The rest of her life was up to her, but for the next two weeks, he fully intended to help her live.

***

W
hat, exactly, was one supposed to wear to a clandestine meeting with a viscount that was to prominently feature the eating of pastries? As Prudence strolled down the winding path toward the woods, she contemplated her rather cheery yellow frock, with its perfect little cap sleeves and frilly white trim. Was it too sunny? Did she look as though she were trying to impress him?

Because she wasn’t.

Very well, so that was a lie. For some indefinable reason, she’d wanted to look nice today. If he were a bit less handsome, she doubted she would have worried so much about her choice of dress. She sighed. That was another lie. Yes, he was handsome, but his attractiveness to her had always been more than that. He was easy in his own skin, confident without being cocky, and always quick with a smile. He never seemed to have a problem with speaking his mind, but more to the point, he managed to do so without rocking any boats. It was a trait she had admired for years.

Their conversation last night in the garden had been the longest they had ever engaged in. Instead of tempering her positive view of him, it seemed to amplify it. She shook her head as she stepped over a small fallen branch. All of this was quite ridiculous. This whole thing was supposed to be about her list, not the man who had managed to ferret out her intentions and offered himself up as helper.

Cake. She was meeting him to partake in cake, and then she could cross another item off her list. It was as simple as that.

As she approached the clearing where their properties met, she caught sight of him lounging on a wide blanket, a huge wicker basket at his elbow. It was an idyllic, bucolic scene, straight from a landscape painting. Sheep on the far hill, tall grasses all around them, bright blue sky with the occasional puffy white cloud above them . . . All it needed was a mare and foal grazing in the distance and the moment would be pastoral perfection.

Rising to his feet, he dusted off his breeches before waving to her. “Good day, Miss Landon. I was beginning to wonder if I would be eating alone this afternoon.”

She gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I was unavoidably detained.” Waffling on which gown to wear—a fact she had no intention of sharing.

“Well, you are here now,” he said with a dismissive flick of his hand. “You’ll be happy to know that I miraculously managed
not
to eat any cake yet.”

“Your willpower is to be commended,” she replied, sharing a grin with him.

“And it is at the end of its rope. Come sit so we may partake. Delaying gratification has never been one of my strong suits.”

He held out his hand and she readily accepted his assistance. His touch was polite and impersonal, perfectly correct in every way, but still she felt it all the way to her belly. Had she ever met with a man alone like this before? The answer sprang to mind before the question had even fully formed: of course not. Her mother had diligently protected her from any situation that might be construed as unseemly.

As he settled down beside her on the blanket, he flicked open the basket lid and retrieved a small but glorious iced cake. “I hope you like lemon,” he said as he presented it with a flourish.

Her mouth watered at the very sight of the thing. She nodded, smiling. “I love lemon, thank you.”

He set it down, then reached inside the basket again. Looking rather pleased with himself, he extracted a pink-hued cake in one hand, and another iced dessert in the other. “But there is also raspberry, if you prefer. And plum cake, because that’s my personal favorite.”

Prudence shook her head, unable to believe that he had gone to such trouble. She was practically nothing to him. That he would go so out of his way when those who were much closer to her wouldn’t even think of it was as disconcerting as it was wonderful. “You really, really shouldn’t have, my lord. What on earth are the two of us going to do with three whole cakes?”

Even as she protested, her gaze drifted back to the delectable treats before them. She couldn’t wait to finally enjoy as much as she wanted, without her mother watching and counting every bite she took. A silly indulgence, to be sure, but one that she would relish with every fiber of her being.

“Devour them, of course,” he said, recapturing her attention. His greenish-brown eyes glinted merrily in the afternoon sun as he produced two plates, two forks, a knife, and several napkins. “And do call me Ash. I don’t wish to stand on ceremony while lounging at a picnic.”

“As you wish. Would you like me to serve?” She well knew how to be a proper hostess, but this little interlude was outside of her normal experiences.

He shook his head. “I shall do the honors. This is your moment. I am merely here to facilitate.”

They had only been together for a handful of minutes, but already this was one of the best afternoons in recent memory. Not wishing to rush the experience, Prudence pursed her lips and gave the suggestion due consideration, carefully considering each of the cakes. “In that case, I believe I shall have a slice of the lemon, if you please.”

“You will do no such thing,” he said, his left eyebrow lifted imperiously. “Today you are to indulge, in every sense of the word.”

She watched, eyes wide, as he cut thick slices from each cake and piled them onto her plate. Laughing when he presented it to her with a flourish, she said, “I couldn’t possibly! You’d be carrying me home, were I to eat all this.”

Ash sent her a devilish grin as he quickly filled his own plate. “I’m wholly up to the task. Now,” he said, lifting his fork in a sort of salute, “let us eat cake.”

Barely able to contain her rising giddiness, she bit her lip and returned the salute. She filled her fork with a heaping morsel of lemon cake, added a bit of raspberry cream, then put the entire unladylike-sized bite in her mouth. The explosion of sweet, tart, lemony deliciousness was good enough to make her moan, and she closed her eyes to fully savor it.

This was heaven. Better than heaven—this was forbidden fruit. Nothing ever tasted so sweet as that which one wasn’t supposed to have.

“Where was this person all these years?”

Her eyes popped open to see him watching her, obviously amused. Suddenly embarrassed for having so thoroughly abandoned propriety, she straightened her shoulders. “I’m not so very changed. At least, not on the inside.” For all the times she would have never acted on her sometimes imprudent thoughts, she had still had them.

“Well, I do wish I would have known this person a little better. We might have had more fun together growing up. Once Nicolas left for the army, things became rather boring during my visits home.”

She took another huge bite of cake—this time the plum—while she contemplated his comment. It was no secret that his father was a terribly unpleasant man. Her own father heartily disliked the earl, even as he tried to sway him to work on the irrigation project together. Still, Ash had always seemed so thoroughly happy with life. Had he been lonely?

“And here I imagined you led quite the charmed life.”

“Oh, I do,” he said, chuckling when her eyes widened at his honesty. “With all the privilege heaped upon me, I’m not very well going to disparage my good fortune. But even so, it’s easy to feel isolated in an area where one’s family is held in such high esteem.”

Isolated
was exactly the word she would use to describe her own upbringing. “That I understand. My mother was very keen to keep me from those of inferior social rank. As though one’s status was catching.”

He gave a little snort. “If we felt that way, I’m not sure if we’d ever have talked to anyone when we were in residence. Of course, that doesn’t mean that my father doesn’t do everything in his power to align himself with those of higher ranking.”

She gave him a wry smile, her next bite poised before her lips. “I know the feeling,” she said before popping the cake in her mouth.

Setting down his fork, he tilted his head and looked at her. “Which makes me wonder why we weren’t in each other’s company more growing up.”

That was an easy one. “You were betrothed,” she said plainly. “Mama didn’t see the point.”

He barked with laughter. “Well, that’s honesty for you.” Recapturing his fork, he went about filling it. “As much as I might have preferred to pick my own spouse, I must admit that a lifelong betrothal makes for fantastic match-making-mama repellent.” The cake disappeared into his mouth. As he chewed, the corners of his lips remained lifted with mirth.