Page 14 of A Suitable Countess (To All the Earls I’ve Loved Before #3)

In Which our Hero Despairs of what to do with our Heroine.

George was glad to be heading back to London and Viola, especially now Maman was much improved in health, and delighted he was about to fulfil his promise to wed. If their conversation about Viola was any indication, the two would get on extremely well.

After a late luncheon, George called on Viola, only to find a very worried Marie pacing the parlour floor.

“My lord.” Marie bobbed a barely polite curtsey and twined her fingers together. “Viola is not at home.”

George frowned. “Do you mean she doesn’t wish to see me? I had good reason for my protracted absence, and I wish to reassure her that—”

Marie waved her hands and stepped close to him. “No, you don’t understand. She did not return home last night. I wondered if—” Her cheeks heated, and she dropped her gaze.

“What did you think, Lady Marie? That she was with me?”

“It would have been far better if she had been, but clearly, she was not, so I do not know where she is. I am worried for her safety.”

“Are any of her clothes missing? Is it possible she has gone to visit a friend?”

Lady Marie shook her head. “She would never do that without telling me. No, I am afraid that—”

“If it’s of any help, I know about her disguise.”

Marie gasped. “She told you! I don’t believe it.” She shook her head and then sank into the armchair. Looking up at him, she asked, “And— you haven’t run for the hills. Why not?”

“I admire her resolution and strength of character. Do you think she went out in disguise last night?”

“It is most likely. When she didn’t come down for breakfast this morning, I checked her room.

She hadn’t slept in her bed, and Father’s clothes were missing from their hiding place.

Then I checked the tin where she kept money for the household, and there were only a couple of notes. I think she took the rest.”

“Surely she didn’t despair of my return?”

“I believe she did. You sent no letter, not even a note. And then yesterday, we received a letter of demand from the bank for full repayment of our father’s loan. Viola looked desperate.” Marie bit her lip.

Clearly, the family lived on the edge. If Viola had been half as desperate as her sister now appeared, George was fairly certain she had been to the gambling den last night.

“I arrived home to Amhurst Hall to discover my mother was very ill, but perhaps I should have sent a note.”

“A brief note would have done much to alleviate her worries, but I do see why it might have been the last thing on your mind.” Belatedly, Marie thought to ask, “Is your mother recovering now?”

“She is, thank you.” George stood, his mind racing through possible scenarios. Had Viola returned to Elverson’s, where play was deep enough to fulfil the repayment?

“I will find her, Lady Marie, and bring her safely home. But tell no one she is missing.”

“Should anyone call, I shall say she is indisposed. Thank you, my lord.”

George set off for the gambling den on Hector, his dark bay stallion. A young footman, coatless and holding a cleaning rag, opened the door to him.

George described Viola-as-Victor to the servant. “Was he here last night?”

“Yes, my lord, with his friend. I heard him call his friend Philip, but all I know of him is that he was three sheets to the wind and needed help getting into his carriage.”

“Did both men leave together?”

“Yes, my lord.”

With a nod of thanks and a coin passed over, George mounted Hector and set off for his godson’s home. He couldn’t imagine why, if Philip had given her a ride, Viola had not returned to her home, but he had a bad feeling about it.

At Philip’s town house, George was shown into the library where he waited impatiently for Philip to appear. Knowing his godson, he was sleeping off heavy losses at the tables and too much consolation brandy.

Therefore, he was surprised when shortly after his arrival, Philip burst into the library, slamming the door behind him. “George.” He said no more, but his godson was agitated, and his bloodshot eyes confirmed George’s suspicion about the night before.

Philip paced back and forth along a short path from the door to the chair where George was sitting. On his second pass, he stopped directly in front of George and glared at him.

“Philip, did you give Victor a ride home last night? I ask because—”

“I did. I gave him a ride. Did you know, George? Did you know he’s a woman?”

Damn. George had hoped to keep Viola’s identity a secret.

“Have you told anyone else? How did you find out?”

“How did I—” Philip was beside himself. He ran both hands through his hair before dropping into an armchair. “Pour me a brandy, will you?”

Something in Philip’s voice stopped the reprimand George would usually have made at such a peremptory demand. He poured two glasses and handed one to his godson, who tossed half of it down his throat as though it was wine.

“I can’t believe you knew and didn’t tell me. When did you find out?”

George wasn’t clear whether the greater part of Philip’s agitation lay with the fact Victor was a woman, or that his godfather had kept that fact a secret. Not that it mattered now the cat was out of the bag.

“The same night you met her. Tell me what happened, Philip.” He sipped his brandy and set the glass on the nearby table. If he was to sort out this mess, he needed to keep a clear head.

His godson leaned his elbows on his knees. “I was well in my cups, losing steadily to two men I’d not met before when Victor—when she arrived and joined us. At first, she lost, like me, but after a while, she started to win small pots, and then she started to win big.

“One of the men we played with became angry, but she was playing well. I mean, really well. We called it a night about five in the morning after Victor had cleaned out the other two, and I gave her a lift home.”

George noted Philip’s phrasing; Viola had cleaned out the other two, not Philip, but that was less important at the moment than her absence.

“If you gave her a ride, then why is she not at home now?”

“She’s here. Upstairs in the Blue Room.”

George’s chest grew tight at the last news he could have imagined. His gut clenched, and his hands fisted. Grinding his teeth, he sought to control the monstrous green-eyed serpent towering inside him.

He was jealous, but he wasn’t prideful, was he? So why did the idea of Viola choosing to stay with Philip so overset him?

Had she truly despaired of him and set her sights on his young godson as a way out of her financial woes?

After their picnic, he’d thought they had an understanding. Difficult as it was to believe she had moved on so quickly, the proof was her presence in this house.

His godson’s house.

“What did you do to her? Why is she here?”

“Me? I didn’t do anything to her.”

“Then why—”

“We were held up in Hyde Park. Victor—hell, what is her real name? And how did you know he was a she?”

“Viola. Lady Viola Winspear. What happened, Philip? Tell me now or I swear to God I’ll—”

Philip raised both hands as though surrendering. “I’m trying to tell you.” He tossed off the dregs of his brandy and put the glass on a table.

“The robber was masked, but it was like he knew one of us had a lot of money. He took my valuables and Vic—Viola’s cape and jacket. Then he wanted my emerald cravat pin. I could barely stand, so Viola took it off and stabbed him with it.”

“ Viola stabbed him?” In the midst of the horrible news, that fact made him want to cheer for her bravery and quick thinking.

“She did, then he coshed her on the head and took off. I’ve never sobered up so fast.”

George jumped to his feet. “She’s injured? How badly?”

“She was unconscious so I brought her here and called for the doctor. When we took her clothes off—”

“You removed her clothes?”

Now he was back to feeling jealousy coloured with a deep tinge of anger and then self-loathing. Vi was injured and here he was thinking nobody but him should have been removing her clothes.

“Not me, two of my footmen carried her to a bedroom. Her wig was knocked off while one of them was removing her shirt. The old sawbones realised he was a she and sent the footmen out straightaway. He told me in no uncertain terms that I was a debaucher of young women before he shunted me out too.”

“Have you told the footmen they are not to speak of her?”

“That was the first thing I did. But George, I had no idea he was a she! She played so well. I didn’t know a woman could think like she does.”

“Viola is exceptionally good at reading people.”

Philip rose and came to stand in front of George. “You called her Lady Viola. In that case, I must marry her, of course. It’s the only decent thing to do. She’s a pretty woman, which will help since we do not know one another.”

Under other circumstances, if she were any other woman, George would have been pleased to see his godson stepping up to do the honourable thing.

But this was Viola they were talking about.

Viola, who intrigued and challenged him, who didn’t let him get away with much.

Viola, whom he had decided he wanted to marry, and have by his side when he travelled.

“You will not marry her, Philip.” George stood in front of his godson, watching surprise slacken his clenched jaw.

“I must. She is a lady who has spent the night beneath my roof. In the eyes of society, she will be ruined if I don’t.”

“Firstly, she has not spent the night here, and secondly, she will be ruined whether or not you marry her should word of her escapade ever be made public.

Imagine what the old harpies and sniping mothers would say if it became known that Viola dressed as a man and entered a gambling den.

That information alone would seal her doom.

“No, we must be clever about this. I will arrange something. In the meantime, I need to see her.”

“But George—”