He was not leaving her to walk home alone.
It was bad enough she walked up here on her own, but she would have hit him over the head and accused him of being an insufferably protective ape if he had insisted on picking her up at the vicarage to bring her over here every midday.
She walked briskly, obviously eager to be rid of him since he had given her a hard time in selecting that final diamond. He had settled on Lady Alicia Simmons, daughter of a marquess, for no reason other than he wanted to get the selection over and done already.
Now, he had three prospects, Alicia, Charlotte, and Aurora. All of them diamonds. All from noble families with impeccable bloodlines. All with spotless reputations, if the gossip rags were to be believed.
He was not so dimwitted as to ever believe them.
Lord help him, would he find any of these young ladies to his liking?
CHAPTER 4
VIOLA WAS ABOUTto leave for Ardley Hall the next morning when she heard a commotion outside her door. Her father was settled in his study, so she and Mrs. Bligh ran out to see what was happening. “Good heavens! My lord, what are you doing? Come down from there at once!”
The viscount was perched atop a wooden ladder leaning against the church wall. Standing just above him on the rooftop was his estate manager, Mr. Wilson, along with several other men who seemed to be inspecting the roof. “Good morning, Miss Ruskin,” he called down, looking far too pleased to be dangling up so high. “You said the church roof might have been struck by lightning. We’re checking on the damage.”
“But, my lord! I did not mean for you to climb up there yourself!”
He said something to the men atop the roof and then slid down to greet her, his thick work gloves protecting his hands from splinters. “Forgive my casual attire, but I wanted to see for myself what needed to be done,” he said, removing the gloves and handing them off to one of his workers. “There is some damage to the cornices. Not too bad though. Mr. Wilson will take care of it.”
“Thank you.” She looked up at him, sincerely grateful to have one less worry weighing upon her father’s shoulders, for he was barely managing to make it through his daily sermons. For several months now, she had taken over his morning calls to ailing parishioners. She had already done her rounds this morning.
“Are you ready?” he asked, making her go weak in the knees as he stood beside her looking irresistibly rugged and manly. “We shall walk back to Ardley Hall together.”
She nodded as a light breeze blew around them, carrying the subtle scent of sandalwood and the delicious heat of his skin toward her. “I’ll just grab my shawl.”
She ran inside and took her favorite, a slate blue wrap of softest wool. She also took a moment to pin a few loose curls in her hair. After checking her reflection in the mirror, she pinched her cheeks to put a little color in them and hurried back down. “Ready, my lord.”
Her heart was in a flutter as she walked beside him.
He felt approachable, dressed casually as he was.
However, she was not so foolish as to believe he could ever be someone within her grasp. This could never be so.
He was heir to an earl, even though he was dressed in workman’s clothes consisting of a sturdy cotton shirt open at the throat and dark brown trousers. His boots were a dark brown leather that appeared worn from use but were obviously of the finest quality.
The cut of his shirt made his shoulders appear quite broad and his arms solidly muscled, although that might have been all him and nothing to do with his clothes. He was a big man and walked with a confident stride.
Looking at him in these natural surroundings, she could not imagine him elegantly attired, his collar points stiffly starched as was the style in London. No wonder he did not wish to go there. However, the ladies would swarm all over him, like bees to a honeycomb, the moment he arrived. How many eligible men were as devastatingly handsome as he, even in a city of that size?
In truth, he was the sort who would fit in anywhere and look magnificent whether he was dressed in black tie and tails or coarse work clothes.
They walked down the lane in an easy silence.
She waved at young Jeremy who was watching over the sheep.
They boy cast them a beaming smile and waved back. “Good morning, my lord! Miss Viola!”
“Good morning, Jeremy,” she called back.
“That’s one happy boy,” the viscount muttered, arching an eyebrow as his expression turned wry.
“Yes, he is. Unlike you, my lord. We are merely planning a party, not all out war. It is not the end of the world if this weekend affair does not work out as you hope.” She was used to walking briskly and had no trouble keeping up with his long strides as he quickened them.
“I still dread it.” He finally slowed as they reached the massive gates to Ardley Hall. They were big and dark, and trimmed in gold, which served as a reminder he was far out of her reach, even though there were times he looked at her in a way that gave her hope there could be something between them. “I think I must have been in a daze these past two years not to feel the emptiness of my home.”
She nodded. “It happens when you lose loved ones.”
