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

In which our Hero and Heroine go riding

Viola paused in front of the hallway mirror and adjusted the half-net of her riding hat over her face. Like her riding habit, it wasn’t the latest fashion, but she liked the touch of mystery it added.

She smoothed an imaginary crease from her skirt and smiled. Thanks to Lord Amhurst, she was going to enjoy a ride in the soft sunshine of an early spring day.

“Vi, what shall we do?” Marie, younger by eighteen months but grown closer during their shared worries, ran up, wringing her hands.

About to walk out for her riding engagement with Lord Amhurst, Viola stood with her hand on the front door. “Tell me what it is.”

“The butcher refused to give further credit to Mrs Macey until his bill has been paid, and I don’t think we can even afford to keep her on.” A frown marred Marie’s brow.

Viola glanced at the time on the longcase clock in the entry hall. It was not yet half one. Not wishing to arrive with flushed cheeks, she had allowed herself plenty of time to walk sedately to the park, but Marie needed her right now.

Accepting she would have to walk to her engagement quickly and risk appearing pink-cheeked, she tugged Marie’s hand and drew her into the front parlour where their siblings would not overhear them.

“We can’t afford her, nor Simmons, and how will that look with not even a butler to greet callers? We can’t afford any staff if we are to feed ourselves beyond the next fortnight.”

“I thought we had enough for a month?” Viola couldn’t believe she had miscalculated what their meagre store of funds would cover.

“That was before I paid Mrs Macey her wages this morning.”

Viola sat abruptly. “How could I have forgotten to include that?” Panic welled within as their bad situation became dire.

“Why are you dressed for riding when we need to do something? We don’t even have a horse!”

“Which is why I am meeting Lord Amhurst at the park. He believes we haven’t brought our horses to town and has offered the use of one of his for our ride today.”

“Lord George Amhurst?” Marie’s eyes brightened with recognition. “He’s the explorer earl, isn’t he? Are you planning to marry him to rescue us from our troubles?”

“You know that’s why I attended the Melton ball, to find a suitably wealthy husband.”

Marie smiled at the idea, but her smile quickly faded, and she shook her head. “A grand idea, but there’s just one tiny little problem, sister dear.”

“Only one?” Toning down her sarcasm, she asked, “What is it?”

“Even if he were to ask you to marry him within the fortnight, which would be a short courtship even by London standards, you said you weren’t certain we could survive beyond the next two weeks.”

“I know, but the fact of my engagement to a wealthy lord would keep the creditors at bay. It would buy us time.”

“Vi, we need funds now!”

“I know.” She strode around the room, wringing her hands in quite the same manner as her sister had done.

It was beyond vexing to Viola that the only idea open to one of her sex and social station was to wed as soon as possible.

“I doubt anyone could bring a suitor up to scratch in less than a month, much less two weeks.”

Viola stopped in the middle of the room and bit her lip. “There must be some other way to secure funds to see us through until Father and Mother return.”

If she were a man, she’d have choices.

If she were a man, she’d be able to keep her family safe.

Tears sprang into Marie’s eyes, and her voice was soft as she asked, “Do you truly believe they will come home to us? That letter—”

“Said only that they were missing following that sandstorm. Why, they might have been found already while we sit here worrying.” She sat beside Marie, took both her sister’s hands in hers, and stared into her eyes, trying beyond all that was reasonable to share her desperate hope with her sister and convince her.

“I have to believe, Marie. Anything else is unthinkable.”

Marie nodded and sniffed. “Then I will work on believing too.” She pulled one hand free and searched in her pocket for a handkerchief.

“Now, didn’t you say you were to meet your earl at two o’clock? Hurry, Vi, or you’ll be late, and that won’t help your cause.”

Viola squeezed her sister’s hand, nodded, and hurried from the house and along the street towards Hyde Park.

She was some fifty yards from the entrance when she spotted a beautiful bay mare with a blonde mane and tail, sporting a side saddle. Her steps slowed as she cast a critical eye over the magnificent horse before her gaze landed on its owner.

Despite seeing Lord Amhurst only from behind, she’d recognise him anywhere. He was engaged in conversation with another gentleman, and he had not seen her, but it gave her time to appreciate his form: the upright stance, broad shoulders, and well-developed rider’s thighs.

If she had to marry to save her family, it would be nice if the sight of her intended husband inspired rather than revolted her, and a bonus if he was kind.

An earl such as Amhurst must be considered one of the catches of the season.

He had liked her enough to invite her to go riding, and on a mount that was clearly a thoroughbred.

In another man, that might have been construed as flaunting his wealth, but from the little she had seen of Lord Amhurst during their two dances and supper conversation, she rather thought it showed a generosity of spirit and consideration for her.

That was a quality she had not dared to hope for.

An unfamiliar tingling sensation ran between her thighs, through a part of Viola’s body best not thought about when in public. Heat rose in her cheeks as she approached the men and caught a snatch of their conversation.

“. . . high stakes, and that young hothead Picton will be at Elverson’s hell tomorrow night ready to . . .”

The gentleman speaking to Lord Amhurst espied her approach and cut short whatever remark he’d been going to make, but it was enough for Viola.

Picton had been one of the vingt et un players she had studied at the Melton ball. He had a subtle tell, but Viola had spotted it and knew she could beat him in any game they played.

If only she were allowed.

Lord Amhurst’s companion tilted his head in Viola’s direction, catching the earl’s eye and alerting him to her arrival. The earl turned, saw her, and bowed.

“Ah, Lady Viola, we have a lovely afternoon for our ride.”

She curtsied and smiled. “Indeed we do, sir. I hope I have not kept you waiting.” Nearby, church bells chimed twice.

“Not at all. May I present Sir Gregory Hunt, an old school friend?”

After introductions and brief remarks on the fine day for riding, Sir Gregory took his leave, allowing Viola to give some attention to her mount.

She approached the horse and stroked her long neck. “She’s a beautiful mare, my lord. What is her name?”

The earl chuckled, a wry, throaty laugh that Viola mentally added to the positive side of her potential groom’s ledger. So far, she hadn’t added anything to the negative side.

He ran a hand over the beautifully curried neck of the mare. “Given her breeding and appearance, you’d expect her to be called something regal or goddess-like, such as Aphrodite or Hera, but my niece, Isabelle, when she was only five years old, named her, and I allowed her to.

“For her sins, the mare is Daffy, short for Daffodil.”

The name was so unexpected Viola barely suppressed a snort. Quickly regaining her composure, she patted the mare. “A perfectly logical name if she was born with this golden mane and tail. At five years of age, I may also have thought Daffodil the perfect name for such a golden creature.”

Lord Amhurst smiled, and it was clear he approved of her response. “Allow me to assist you to mount the fair Daffy.”

“Thank you, my lord.”

What an unusual man the earl was proving to be. Instead of leaving the task to his groom, Lord Amhurst handed her the reins while the groom moved to the far side and held the cheekpiece.

Viola had resigned herself to making a match with whichever suitable gentleman could be brought to offer first, but those feelings were rapidly changing with each encounter with Lord Amhurst.

He was a good prospect, wealthy, and Cousin Sybil, Viola’s sometime chaperone and informant on all matters pertaining to the Ton, had discovered he was intent on marrying this Season. Just this morning, she had replied to Vi’s query and shared what she knew in a note sent to the house:

“A promise to his mother to wed, no less. You could not have chosen better, Viola.”

Her would-be suitor offered his locked hands to boost her into the saddle.

As Viola lifted one foot, the mare took a small sidestep.

Caught off balance, Viola instinctively placed a hand on the earl’s shoulder.

Her fingers dug into solid muscle, and her breath hitched.

What would it be like to be held in his strong embrace?

“My lady?”

Viola blinked and raised her foot a second time. “Of course, thank you.” He boosted her to the saddle with ease, and she drew the reins together, but her fingers retained the feel of Lord Amhurst’s shoulder.

Solid. Dependable. Stirring.

How had she been so lucky in her gambit when all else in the lives of her family had turned topsy-turvy?

If one had to marry, then Lord Amhurst was clearly the cream of the crop. Securing him in marriage would offer more benefits than simply securing her family’s future.

The earl mounted his horse, a darker bay than Daffy, and drew alongside. “Are you comfortable, Lady Viola?”

“I am, thank you, and keen to experience riding on this beauty.”

They set both horses to a sedate walk, as the crowds of those wishing to see and be seen were still making their way into the park.

But even at a walk, Daffy’s breeding showed.

Her gait was smooth, and Viola longed to set her galloping over a stretch of grassland.

She imagined it would feel like flying, free from trouble and strife.