Page 18 of A Suitable Countess (To All the Earls I’ve Loved Before #3)

In Which Our Hero Presents His Suit

Viola was uncharacteristically quiet on the ride home, while George sat opposite, watching the play of light from the carriage lamps across her face and remembering their first kisses.

Dressed as a young man with a bad haircut in a coat that swam around her slim form did not diminish his desire for her.

She was courageous in her endeavours to care for those she loved, and it struck George that her inner beauty far outweighed the external beauty valued by Society.

Surely he’d known that before, but loving Viola in her several guises had brought it home to him.

As they went through the front door, she asked, “Would you like tea, George, or is a sherry acceptable at this late hour? I’m afraid we don’t have any brandy.”

“Sherry is fine, thank you.” He sat in one of two armchairs turned towards the fire, which had been banked for the night.

Viola handed him a glass, careful not to touch him, and took the other chair.

George raised his glass. “Here’s to catching a cheat. May you always be around to best them.”

“Why did you leave me to explain what happened to the manager of the club? As the highest-ranking gentleman there, it was natural he asked you.”

George sipped and set his glass on the table between their chairs.

“Rank meant nothing when you worked out how he was cheating. Until you threw your drink over the footman, I still hadn’t worked out how Dawson was doing it.

I wouldn’t be a gentleman if I took credit when it came to who had the right to explain how you unmasked him. That honour belonged to you, Vi.”

“The ungentlemanly gentleman. And now I am welcome any time in the club, with free drinks. Not that I like brandy, and nor do I like to drink when I am playing. More than a glass impairs my ability to stay focused. The manager got a good deal from his offer to me.”

“Will you return?”

“Perhaps.” Viola set her glass beside his on the small table and then eased the awful mouse-brown wig from her head. After she dropped the wig on the floor, her fingers tunnelled through her hair, scattering hairpins as she massaged her scalp. “That’s better.”

Glorious red tresses tumbled down her back, and George felt a tightening in his loins.

“I notice you did not forbid me from returning to the club. Very wise of you.”

“I can’t imagine any man, other than your father perhaps, being brave or foolish enough to forbid you anything you set your mind to.”

“You did.”

“I like to think I learn from my mistakes. If you feel the need to return to Elverson’s, I would be happy to accompany you, should you wish it.”

“Then you are wise.”

She sipped her sherry, wishing it were a cup of tea, and stared into the embers of the fire. One fell from the grate and cracked open, and a small heart of rich orange flared to life.

Perhaps her relationship with George was not in ashes but simply embers, full of life if she wished it to be. Certainly, he wasn’t behaving like a man no longer interested in her, but would she accept that marriage of convenience, if that was all he had to offer her?

Could she live with him, wanting him as she did?

“Why are you here, George? You could have dropped me at my door.”

“True. I have been thinking about my future travels and our discussion. Indeed, I had a great deal of time to think as I sat by my mother’s sick bed. That is where I was for the week I was away.”

Viola frowned and leaned towards him. “Your mother was ill? Has she recovered now? Why didn’t you tell me that’s where you were?”

“I intended only an overnight visit, but I arrived to discover she was very ill. The doctor had only just sent a messenger whom I must have passed on the road. I sat by Maman’s side for several days as she battled the fever, but eventually, it broke.

Once she was out of danger, we talked. I told her all about you—about what a wonderful countess you would make. ”

Viola looked away and pressed her lips together. “I hope she will not be too disappointed to learn that is no longer the situation.”

“But it could be. I would very much like to marry you, Vi, and there is something you need to know that may change your mind.”

“I don’t believe anything you say can do that, George, but tell me anyway.”

Her response wasn’t encouraging, but at least she was prepared to listen. George would take that as a win.

“It didn’t take me long to realise just how capable you are. I know you don’t want to rely on me, or anyone for that matter, to protect you, but I would like you to feel you can rely on me being there for you. And I will feel good knowing you are there beside me, helping me, caring— loving me.”

Frowning, Viola shook her head. “Our discussions were about a marriage of convenience. We did not speak of love. You do not love me; I know that.”

“We did not speak of love because I did not consider it a necessity to have a good marriage.”

“You told me physical compatibility was enough.”

“It seemed important at the time.”

“What do you mean, ‘at the time’?”

“At a time before I realised that I love you. Now, I cannot imagine any other type of marriage but one where love lives and grows, nor any countess but you by my side.”

Then George waited for Viola to decide.

He was helpless.

He was hopeful.

##

I love you. I love you. I love you.

George’s words ran around and around in her mind like a horse on the carousel in John Joseph Merlin’s Mechanical Museum.

Her siblings had loved riding on that carousel before their parents had gone to Egypt, and Frederick especially enjoyed the galloping horses and fine music.

She loved it too, but now she wondered how to stop the carousel so she could climb off and talk to George.

“You can’t make such an extraordinary statement with no explanation.” Viola reached for the glass of sherry and tossed it back.

“I thought you didn’t like to drink?”

“Right now, I’d give anything for some of that brandy at the club.”

“Why?”

“Because you said you love me.”

“I do. I hope you can accept that and perhaps, one day, you might love me too.” He stood and, taking hold of her hands, drew her to her feet.

“I find the idea of a marriage of convenience is no longer to my taste, but I must be honest with you. I’ll take whatever form of marriage you will give me, just as long as you will stand by my side.

That’s what love is, Viola: putting the other person’s needs ahead of your own.

Whatever you need—that’s what I want to give you.

What I will always give you, if you’ll be my wife. ”

Viola’s wits were scattered. How was it George had said the one thing—the only thing—that could have changed her mind?

The dawning of her own love for George had begun after their picnic, but there had been no sign he had felt the same.

Wrapping her feelings close about her, she had believed she could marry him without his love. Hers would be enough for them both.

But with his declaration, she needed to know.

“What brought on this sudden change of heart?”

“A good friend asked me the right question at the right time, and I just knew. Viola, marry me. Please?”

“You won’t stop me from attending Elverson’s if I so desire?”

“Never. If you wish for my company, I’ll be by your side.”

“And your trips to Africa and other parts of the world?”

“Always. I will always want you by my side.”

“And you truly love me?”

“I truly, madly, forever love you.”

The dam in her chest broke, and she flung her arms around him. To his credit, George stood firm, simply wrapping his arms around her, holding her, loving her.

“I do love you too, George. Yes, I will marry you. I’ll be your wife and your travel companion.”

“How does a honeymoon in Italy sound, on the way to an adventure in Africa?”

“Perfectly delightful, my love.”

The End