Lara Temple - The Reluctant Viscount

Alyssa had grown up in a flash. She had always known she could not trust her father or Mowbray society to support her, but she had not really understood their power to destroy. The day Mowbray expelled Adam in disgrace was the day she realised she could no longer afford to let her siblings, or herself, continue to be ‘those wild Drake children’. Until that day she had focused on teaching them knowledge. From that day on she focused on transforming them and herself into proper members of society. She would not let them suffer Adam’s fate. And she had succeeded beautifully.

But it was not just fear that had shaken her little universe that day. She had been too young and naïve to realise the significance of just how much she had looked forward to the occasions when Adam would stop by their little garden on his way to or from his family’s home in the town to Delacort Hall, where he’d assisted Burford, the old estate agent.

She often taught her siblings outside in the garden so as not to bother her father, but no one had ever taken any interest in them until Adam had one day at the beginning of that fateful summer. They were so used to being ignored they had not even noticed he had stopped by the low garden wall that separated the garden from the lane and was listening to them with some amusement. When he had taken issue with Alyssa’s interpretation of Homer she had been delighted at the opportunity to argue with someone who truly challenged her. And so, somehow it had become accepted that he could join their al fresco lessons whenever he liked. Then, by the time Rowena had carried out her coup, Alyssa had been unwittingly but very deeply in love.

His abrupt disappearance had left her stricken with a misery she could only force deep inside until it had eventually faded to an imprint, like the lacy skeletons of long-dried leaves she and her siblings had used to collect in the woods as children. And she had learned that unlike some poets’ claims, one did not die of love or go into decline. In fact, she and her family had probably benefited a great deal from the whole affair. Her siblings were now all successfully employed or happily married and she herself had become as highly regarded in Mowbray society as any young woman. And if she had never tried to encourage any of the men who had shown an interest in her despite her lack of a dowry, it was just because none of those men had ever made her feel in the least tempted to go and live at the discretion of their whims and rules. She had enough of that with her father. Although at least he left her alone for six days out of seven as long as she helped him when he demanded and made sure no one interrupted his work.

She shook off her maudlin memories and focused on her task. She knew it would not be easy. Simply because Adam had been kind ten years ago was no reason to expect him to act on her behalf. If even a fraction of the tales about him that had surfaced over the past decade were correct, he was a very different person.

Still, she reminded herself firmly, she could not sit idly by without at least trying to stop Percy, and if there was even the slightest chance Adam might exert his influence, it was worth the embarrassment. For better or for worse, her reputation was sufficiently robust to withstand the possible gossip if it became known she had called on Adam. It might be considered eccentric, but then the Drakes would probably always be regarded as a little odd, despite all of Alyssa’s attempts to smooth out her family’s wrinkles.

The sound of steps in the hallway broke into her thoughts and she turned just as the door opened. For one disorienting moment she thought she must have made a mistake, that this was surely not Adam. Even accounting for the years that had passed, there seemed nothing but a vague resemblance to connect this tall, hard-looking individual with the young man she had known. She remembered most clearly his expression of devastated hurt when he had realised the extent of Rowena’s betrayal that day at the White Hart. And his intent look when he had been explaining Homer in the small garden of their cottage. And the warmth of his quick, amused smile.

He was still handsome, but it was almost as if all those elements had been stripped away, exposing a hewn granite core. And he certainly did not look like he was capable of smiling. He was dressed for riding like any country gentleman in pale buckskins, top boots and a dark blue coat tailored perfectly for his broad shoulders, but he looked much larger than she had remembered and there was a foreign air about him. Perhaps it was because he was tanned and his dark hair, which had once been carelessly long, was cut short in an almost military style. But the greatest difference was in his eyes. She had remembered they were grey, but not that they were so dark and watchful. They expressed no emotion. No recognition. Not even curiosity.

‘Miss Drake?’ he said after a moment. ‘You wished to see me?’

She drew a deep breath. She had no idea how or even whether to proceed. It had seemed natural to bring this problem to him when she heard he had arrived at Delacort Hall. She was honest enough with herself to admit that as much as she truly did need help, she had been happy for an excuse to see him again. But neither consideration seemed to apply to this stranger. She had an urge to protest—you can’t be Adam!

‘Yes,’ she said hurriedly, before she lost what was left of her nerve. ‘I need...I was hoping you could... This is about Percy.’

He frowned and moved further into the room, indicating one of the threadbare old chairs. She sat down and he took a chair opposite her.

‘Percy Somerton? My cousin?’

‘Yes. You see, he is courting my cousin Mary Aldridge. She is an heiress and just turned seventeen. She is living with my aunt in Mowbray.’

‘And why is it important that she be saved from Percy’s clutches? He might be a dandy and a wastrel, but he is hardly a dissolute rake like yours truly.’ He said it so blandly it took her a moment to register the self-mockery in his words. She debated telling him the truth and decided to take the plunge.

‘Frankly I think being a dandy and a wastrel are sufficient reasons to discourage the match, but there is more than that at stake. The truth is that Charlie asked me to watch over her. He likes her, you see, and until he went away to Cambridge I had thought she liked him, too, very much. But he knows he can’t offer for her until he can support himself. Especially since she is an heiress. He is too proud. And she is very young. And impressionable. She was miserable when he went away and Percy was very attentive. So...’

‘So you have taken it on yourself to beat back the ravenous hordes until your brother can stake his claim?’

She ignored the mocking tone and continued.

‘You make it sound like I am interfering. My father is her guardian, after all.’

‘Good God, who in their right mind would appoint your father guardian over a gatepost, let alone a wealthy young woman?’ he asked in genuine surprise and she pressed down hard on a smile. So he did remember something about them at least.

‘Well, she is his niece. And my uncle, Mr Aldridge, was an avid admirer of my father’s work. I often think that was why he married my aunt in the first place. You might not remember, but society considers my father to be a great poet.’

‘Which might explain why society is in the state it is,’ he replied laconically and she couldn’t hold back a gurgle of laughter.

‘So,’ he continued. ‘This is all very edifying, but what does it have to do with me?’

Alyssa’s amusement faded at the coolness in his voice.

‘He is your heir—’ she began, but he cut her off.

‘He is heir to Delacort when the world decides it has had enough of me. Just as I was Ivor’s heir when the man was foolish enough to try to jump a hedge on a horse better suited to a farmer’s cart before he managed to sire an heir of his own. Nothing more than that. Percy is neither my responsibility nor my concern and so I made clear to the tradesmen who seemed to share your opinion that I am responsible for him and should persist in Ivor’s bad habit of bankrolling his extravagances.’