And then they were both on their feet and in each other's arms, and for some inexplicable reason they were both weeping.
She had just become betrothed, Vanessa thought. Hers were tears of happiness.
Of course they were.
She was going to be married again.
To Viscount Lyngate.
Who could never in a million years love her.
Not that she loved him either, of course, But even so… "What did she say?" Vanessa asked.
She was seated inside Viscount Lyngate's traveling carriage again, but this time she had him for a companion rather than her sisters. They were on their way to Finchley Park, almost twenty-four hours after their engagement. A heavy drizzle misted the windows. She was being taken to call upon his mother. "She is eager to meet you," he told her. "But I asked what she /said/." She turned her head to look at him. "She expected you to offer for Meg, did she not? And then you went home and told her you had offered for me instead. What did she say?" "She was a little surprised," he admitted, "but she was happy after I had informed her that you were the lady I wished to marry." "Did you really say that?" she asked him. "And did she believe you? I would wager she did not. And I would wager she was not happy at all." "Ladies," he said, "do not wager." "Oh, fiddle," she said. "She is unhappy, is she not? I would rather know now before I meet her again." He clucked his tongue. "Very well, then," he said. "She is unhappy - or uneasy, at least. You are not the eldest sister, and you have been married before." "And I am no beauty," she said. "What am I to say to that?" he asked, clearly exasperated. "You are not ugly. You are not an antidote." Loverlike words indeed! "I will make her like me," she said. "I promise I will. She will like me when she sees that I can make you comfortable." "Ah," he said. "It is only /comfortable /today, is it? Yesterday you knew how to /please /me and how to make me /happy/." He was looking at her sidelong. His eyelids were drooped over his eyes again in that disconcertingly slumberous expression she remembered from the assembly. "And comfortable too," she said firmly. "Well, then," he said, "I am to be a fortunate man." "You are," she agreed - and laughed. "And I would like to have been a spider crawling across the carpet in your drawing room after I left yesterday," he said. "Especially after you and your elder sister were alone together, as I suppose you were eventually." "She was not upset, if that is what you mean," she said. "At least, not upset that you had offered for me rather than her." "I am crushed," he said. "She wishes us well," she told him. "Now /that,/" he said, "I can believe. She is inordinately fond of you.
She was not happy, though, was she, to learn that you had offered yourself as the sacrificial lamb for the family." "I have no intention of being any such thing," she told him. "I am going to be your wife - your viscountess. I am going to learn to do the job well - you will see." "I am going to be thirty before the year is out," he said. "My primary motive in deciding to marry this year has been to set up my nursery without further delay. There is the need for an heir." He was looking directly at her from beneath those drooped lids - deliberately trying to discompose her, of course. "Oh," she said, and knew she was blushing. Her toes curled up inside her half-boots. "But of course. That is perfectly understandable. Especially as you expect to be a duke one day." "Was there any question," he asked, "of children with Dew?" She shook her head and bit her lip. "You told me," he said, "that you are not a virgin and I believed you.
But are you perhaps an /almost /virgin?" She turned her head away sharply. She could not trust her voice. She watched two streams of water snake their way down the side window of the carriage.
It had happened three times in all - /it /being nuptial relations. And after two of them Hedley had wept. "My apologies," Viscount Lyngate said, setting his gloved hand on her sleeve. "I did not intend to upset you." "It is quite understandable," she said, "that you would want to know if I am capable of bearing children. As far as I know, I am. I /hope /I am." "We are almost at Finchley," he said. "You will see it around the next bend." He leaned across her to wipe the steam off the window with the sleeve of his greatcoat.
It was another gray stone mansion, but this one was older than Warren Hall. It was solidly square with balustrades and statues around the roof and ivy on parts of the walls. It was surrounded by lawns dotted with ancient trees, still bare of leaves. Sheep grazed some distance from the house, probably below a ha-ha. There was another house - it was too large to be called a cottage - some distance away, on the banks of a lake.
There was none of the new splendor of Warren Hall here, but to Vanessa it looked stately and peaceful and welcoming - though that last word reminded her of what she was facing inside its walls within the next few minutes. She sat back in her seat. "It looks better in the sunshine," he said. "It looks lovely now," she told him.
She drew a deep breath when the carriage drew to a halt outside the double front doors of the house and let it out on a sigh that was unfortunately audible. "I suppose," she said after he had descended the steps and turned to offer her a hand, "I ought to have looked beyond the mere request that you marry me to what came next." "Yes," he agreed as she stepped down, "perhaps you ought. But you did not, did you?" "And what-ifs are pointless," she said. "You said so yourself the day we arrived at Warren Hall." "Precisely," he said. "You are stuck with me, Mrs. Dew. And I - " He stopped abruptly. "And you are stuck with me." She often found amusement in the strangest things. She laughed.
It was better for both her spirits and her pride than weeping.
He raised his eyebrows and offered his arm.
11
LADY Lyngate looked even grander inside her own drawing room than she had in Stephen's. Or perhaps it was just that at Warren Hall she had been merely Viscount Lyngate's mother, Vanessa thought, whereas here she was her soon-to-be mother-in-law.
She was alone. There was no sign of Miss Wallace.
And she was gracious. She greeted Vanessa with apparent warmth and drew her toward a chair across from her own at the fire.
Viscount Lyngate, after presenting Vanessa as his betrothed, was dismissed as if he were quite irrelevant to the discussion to come. He bowed to them both, assured Vanessa that he would return in an hour's time to escort her home, and left the room. "I suppose," Vanessa said, taking the offensive because she was thoroughly frightened, "you were surprised and none too pleased when Lord Lyngate returned home yesterday to inform you that he had proposed marriage to me instead of to Meg?" Lady Lyngate raised her eyebrows and looked very aristocratic and very haughty - and very like her son - for a moment. "I was surprised, yes," she said. "I had thought it was your elder sister to whom he intended to pay his addresses. It seems I was mistaken. I assume he had good reason for choosing you instead. I trust he has also chosen wisely." Guilt smote Vanessa. "I will make him happy," she assured the viscountess, leaning slightly forward in her chair. "I have promised him that. I have always been able to make people happy." But would it be possible with Viscount Lyngate? He would be a definite challenge.