Page 8 of Vying for a Viscount
Chapter Three
Months later, aftera day spent shopping on Bond Street, she returned to Rutherford Manor. She entered the house, greeted the butler, Mr. Henry, and hurried up the staircase, anxious to see her son, Simon, who was two and a half. When she approached the nursery door, she found Simon on the floor, playing with wooden toy soldiers that had once belonged to Graham, and tears pooled in her eyes. He looked very much like his father, with brown hair and amber eyes. He had the same smile, even at this young age. She rubbed the ache in her heart for her son, who would never know his father. Graham had his faults, one big one, but aside from that, he was a kind and generous man. More than generous, in her way of thinking.
When Simon finally looked up, his eyes widened, and he smiled, then yelled, “Mama!”
Letitia dropped to her knees on the carpet and held out her arms for a hug. Simon, a sturdy, rambunctious boy, barreled into her, knocking her onto her back. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, and they giggled.
“My lady,” the governess, Mrs. Hartman, hurried to her side. “Let me help you. I keep telling Master Simon to be gentle with you and with all ladies.”
Letitia kept hugging Simon. “It’s fine, Mrs. Hartman. As long as he doesn’t knock anyone else over.”
Moments later, she let Simon go and rose to her feet. He went back to his soldiers, some of which were painted red and others blue.
“My goodness, I never expected to be out shopping for so long. How has he been?” she asked Mrs. Hartman, a forty-one-year-old widow with no children of her own, recently hired when Simon no longer needed a nursemaid. Letitia believed it was time for a governess. Someone strict, because Simon was a hellion. A beautiful, happy, and loving hellion, but a hellion nonetheless, and he wasn’t even three years old yet.
“He’s been a fine boy, and we had a good day today. We read stories, he took a nap, we built a tower with blocks, and you can see he’s playing with his soldiers. The poor French don’t have a prayer against the English.”
Laughing, Letitia ran her hand through her son’s hair. “Sounds like you had a full day, Simon. Did you go outside for some fresh air?”
“Oh yes, I forgot,” Mrs. Hartman added. “We took a stroll through the gardens, sat on the bench, and went through our letters and numbers. Simon is very bright. He can almost recite the alphabet perfectly. That is, if I can get him to sit still long enough, my lady.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Hartman. I don’t know what I would do without you. I rely on you so much when it comes to Simon.”
Mrs. Hartman’s eyes filled with tears, and she curtsied. “I should be thanking you for hiring me when my last charges grew too old to need me anymore.”
“Well, we are both grateful for each other.” She bent down and kissed the top of Simon’s little head. “Be a good boy for Mrs. Hartman.”
“Yes, Mama.”
After leaving the nursery, Letitia, feeling unsettled, wandered the halls. It had been months since Clarice’s wedding. The thoroughbred racing season was over, and most everyone was back in London for the little Season. Everyone except the Duke and Duchess of Stanton,who were on their honeymoon on the Continent. Not a day passed without her missing Clarice, prompting her to think of the Duchess of Blackstone and the Countess of Langford.
Tonight was the Brennan musicale. She had received a note from Emmeline, Duchess of Blackstone, stating that she and Lilly would be attending without their husbands and that they hoped to see her there. She hadn’t seen them since the spring, when she’d traveled to Newmarket for the races and they had gone to their country estates for the summer. Receiving Emmeline’s note pushed her into accepting the Brennans’ invitation. Because truth be told, she was lonely.
When she left for Newmarket, she had no clue how long she’d be gone from home. And to be honest, the two weeks spent there were full of adventure, intrigue, and danger. No danger to herself, but to Clarice and Stanton.
Added to that list of things that happened in Newmarket would be the close friendship she developed with Greyson. Her stomach knotted. At least she believed they had formed a friendship with the understanding of more. Perhaps she had misinterpreted the desire in his eyes and the smooth words he’d whispered to her during their private moments. Had she been wrong about his intentions when he held her hand and stole a few kisses? She blew out her breath. She had heard he’d returned to London in July. Two months had passed, but she hadn’t heard from him. Not that she had attended any social functions. The thought of going alone didn’t interest her. She was much too shy to venture out alone. However, she thought he would have called upon her by now.
All the more reason to reconnect with Emmeline and Lilly. Yes, they were married, but she didn’t think their husbands would mind her going along to a ball, a soirée, or the theater with them.
Heading to her chambers and her desk, she sat down and pulled two sheets of her favorite stationery from the middle drawer. She penned a note to each of them, welcoming them back to London andstating she would see them tonight at the Brennan musicale. She sealed them with hot wax and stamped the Rutherford seal; she rang for her maid. A few moments later, there was a knock on the door, and Jane entered.
“My lady.” Jane bobbed a curtsy.
Letitia stood and walked toward her, the muslin skirts of her sage-green walking dress swishing around her. “Please give these to one of the footmen. I would like them delivered immediately.”
“Yes, my lady.”
Alone once again, Letitia went to the chaise longue on the far side of her large bedchamber and collapsed onto it, stretching out with a pillow beneath her head. She closed her eyes and pictured Greyson’s handsome face just before she fell asleep.
*
Archibald Fitzroy, theViscount Greyson, sat in his family’s drawing room, savoring tea with his sisters and their callers. He would refer to the Earl of Warren as Aurora’s caller. But when he thought of one of his best friends, Jacob Hunter, calling on Anastasia, he nearly spat out his tepid tea. Hunter’s interest in Anastasia was something he never saw coming.
So here he sat in a chair, with Warren and Hunter flanking him in their own chairs, while his twin eighteen-year-old sisters faced them on the settee. Both played perfect hostesses, pouring tea and handing out biscuits, all with smiles and twinkles in their identical green eyes. The same eyes he saw staring back at him in the looking glass every day.
Greyson winced and swallowed a groan at something Hunter said, which made both his sisters giggle. What the devil had gotten into Hunter? He had put on a charming demeanor; even his eyes were soft, dreamy, and full of desire. Soft and dreamy were enough to make himwant to gag, but desire tightened his insides. Bloody hell, Hunter was a smooth-talking rakehell. Surely he wouldn’t compromise Anastasia?
He reached over and poked his shoulder.
