Page 22 of A Viscount’s Reluctant Passion

The maid hurried in, and stood before her.

“Miss, there’s a gentleman come to call on you! Quickly, come upstairs and I’ll get you changed into a dress suitable for receiving callers.”

Bea’s heart pounded. A gentleman caller? Could it be? Hope filling her, she followed Ellie upstairs. A few short minutes later, wearing a pretty afternoon dress, with her hair tidied and pinned up neatly, she went back downstairs, and to the front parlour. As she entered the room, Honour rose from one chair, and a gentleman rose from another, turning towards her.

Bea froze, feeling suddenly ill, as fear coiled in her stomach.

It was Lord Walter Winterbourne – the man she had hoped to never see again. He smiled that charming smile which had deceived her before, and came forward to bow over her hand. It took all of her strength to prevent herself from snatching her fingers from his grasp.

Over his shoulder, Bea could see that Honour was smiling, as if pleased with Lord Walter’s presence. Perhaps that was to be expected, given that Honour did not know what the man had done, and had only seen his charming manners in company. Lord Walter straightened from his bow, and his eyes met Bea’s. There was something cold in that gaze, something calculating, something that frightened her a great deal. She did not know what to do.

“Miss Wormsley, it is a delight to see you again. Forgive me for appearing on your doorstep unannounced, but I found that, as summer dragged on, I simply could not bear to allow another week to pass without seeing your beautiful face again. I have taken a room at the Inn in the village.”

Words failed her.

The cad seemed to expect her to simply act as if he had never forced himself upon her. Yet… what could she do, but exactly that? She had never told Honour and James of that night, and she could not now make a scene in Honour’s home. She had no choice but to be polite, no matter how much she wished to slap Lord Walter’s face.

“Lord Walter. Those are pretty words, my Lord. I find it hard to believe that one sight of my face is enough incentive to bring a man so far from London, no matter how flattering that conceit is.”

It was as far as Bea felt she could go, without being directly rude. He would probably think it coquettish of her, think that she was seeking further flattery. No matter what she said, she was trapped.

“Oh, but it is, Miss Wormsley. For I must admit to being smitten by you. Every day away from you has made me more aware of the truth of those words.”

Bea went forward, and settled in a single chair, as far from other chairs as possible. She would not give him the chance to sit close to her!

“Do be seated, Lord Walter. I find your declaration rather sudden, my Lord. Forgive me if I need a little time to adjust.”

At that moment, as Honour looked at Bea questioningly, a maid brought in a tea tray, and set it on the small table. Honour poured tea, and passed a cup to Lord Walter. He sipped for a moment, as Honour passed a cup to Bea as well.

“Miss Wormsley, your reticence speaks well of your modesty. Rest assured that I am serious in my words. But at this point, I ask only to call upon you, each day, and allow you to see the truth of that for yourself.”

He was clever – frighteningly so. For with those words he had put her in an impossible position. She could not, in all politeness, refuse his request to call.

But if she allowed it, then she was forced to accept his company, each day, and every moment in his presence risked him doing something improper, risked him attempting, at the worst of it, to compromise her again.

That he was so dishonourable as to be here, after he had taken money from Lord Challoner, and had promised to not speak ill of her… Oh! In that moment, Bea realised the mistake that she, and Lord Challoner, had made. They had not caused him to agree to leave Bea alone, only to not speak ill of her or gossip.

She swallowed a sip of tea.

There was nothing for it. She was trapped, and could only be graceful about it. That, at least, would buy her time to attempt to discover a way to convince the man to go away.

“Every day, Lord Walter? That is a little excessive, is it not?”

“Not for a man enamoured of a woman, not in my opinion.”

“Then… you may call. But I do not promise anything with respect to my reactions to your attentions to me.”

It was clear that Honour thought her mad.

“That is all I can ask, for now, Miss Wormsley. Thank you for your hospitality this afternoon. I will take my leave of you now, but I will call again tomorrow.”

They all rose, Winterbourne bowed, and left the room. Silence fell, until they heard the front door shut behind him. Then Honour looked to Bea and raised an enquiring eyebrow.

“He is a charming man, sissy, yet I have the sense that you are not entirely happy with this situation. He was attentive to you in London, and I thought that you had become quite interested in him. Am I wrong? Is there something that I have missed?”

Bea swallowed. She was too ashamed of the whole situation to wish to tell Honour all of the sordid details now. She pasted a bright smile onto her face.

“He can be charming, yes, but… I do not know that I could love him. He does not make my heart beat faster… I know that most regard love as not necessary for marriage, and that mother and father would be delighted if I married such a man, who will eventually be an Earl, but…”

“I see. I cannot do anything but agree with you. My own life has shown me that marriage where there is no love is a bad idea, no matter what society says. Spend some time with him, sissy, and see if love could grow.”

“I will, although I suspect it could not.”

“Should we invite him to stay here? That way you could see more of him.”

“No! That is, I will want the time when he is not here, to think about it.”

“As you wish.”

But Honour looked at her, concerned, and obviously disturbed by the vehemence of her words.