Page 4 of A Suitable Countess (To All the Earls I’ve Loved Before #3)

She patted the mare’s neck and tried to allow herself to simply enjoy the moment. There were too few such moments since that letter had arrived. She must treasure each one.

“Did you enjoy the ball?” Lord Amhurst’s voice broke into her reverie and recalled her to the expectations of a ride with her prospective suitor. It would not do to become complacent about his interest in her.

“The evening was very pleasant, my lord. Did you not find it so?”

“I know I should agree, but to be honest, I would rather be back in Africa than attend these events. At least there, attacks by wild animals are about survival.”

Momentarily taken aback by his comment, Viola hesitated before answering.

“Do you feel . . . hunted at such events?”

“Precisely the word. There is a wild, but almost military precision to Society mothers’ tactics when they set out to capture a son-in-law.”

Viola’s throat tightened, and she turned her head to hide the flush of guilt surely staining her cheeks. She was as bad as any doting mother waging a campaign to win the earl. The only difference was, she was betting on herself to win the prize of the Season.

“If you dislike it so much, why put yourself through the experience? Women have no choice but to wed, but as a man, you are free to do as you please. You can go wherever you choose, do whatever you wish—”

“If only it were that simple, Lady Viola. An earl is duty-bound to marry and sire an heir, and I promised my mother I would attend to my duty by my thirtieth birthday. I have no choice other than who to make my countess before the Season ends.”

Viola met his gaze, surprised to see speculation in his eyes as he looked at her. Of course, she was being assessed for the role as surely as she was assessing him.

But while the earl was free to move on to another lady if Viola failed to meet his requirements, he was her best bet.

“My apologies, my lord. Of course you have your duty. We all do; duty to family is foremost in all our minds, and you have a great name to uphold and a line to continue. Please tell me about your family. You have mentioned your mother and a niece. Is she the daughter of a sister or younger brother?”

“Isabelle is my only sister’s child. Irene is younger by three years and widowed far too young. Her husband fought at the Battle of Waterloo and died of his wounds some weeks later.” A muscle ticked in the earl’s cheek, and she could almost hear his teeth grinding.

“A difficult death by the sound of it. I am sorry for you and your family’s loss. Let us find a happier topic.”

“It seems we both have losses within our families that cause pain. May I ask, before we move on to less fraught topics, have you had news of your parents recently?”

Viola dragged in a painful breath and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, she realised their horses had stopped and Daffy had lowered her head to chomp at a succulent plant. Tugging gently on the reins, Viola diverted the mare away and walked her on into the shade of a large oak.

When the earl stopped his horse beside hers and dismounted, she glanced around. They had arrived at a rare quiet spot in the park. The earl tied his reins to a low branch before walking around the mare and holding his arms up to help her dismount.

Placing her hands on his shoulders, she leaned forward, and he set his hands about her waist to lift her down, but somehow, Viola felt untethered. In his arms, she floated to the ground.

Looking up into his face, it took her far too long to realise he was still holding her. His hands almost encircled her waist. Even through the layers of clothing, they felt warm and strong. Comforting.

The earl’s hands should not have still been on her person, but she didn’t want them to leave.

“Viola?”

She gasped and stepped away. “I am sorry, my lord.” But she wasn’t sure if she was sorry for the extended intimacy, or for its sudden loss.

“I fear I should not have asked about your parents. It seems to cause you pain, and I never meant for that to happen.”

“It is not your fault, my lord. Indeed, the subject is a natural one. But in my case, we, my siblings and I, have received difficult news. Our parents are missing from their dig in Egypt. There was a sandstorm—”

The earl took hold of her hand and drew her to a nearby stone bench. “I see. And you have had no further news since their disappearance?”

Viola shook her head. “No.” She blinked, trying to stop the tears that sprang to her eyes whenever she pondered her parents’ fate.

“News from abroad is slow to arrive, and whoever sent that news should perhaps have waited for the outcome of the search for your parents before writing of it to you.” A white handkerchief appeared in her blurred vision, and she gratefully accepted it.

The earl continued. “My understanding is that your father is an experienced explorer. I am certain he would have made every effort to ensure the safety of your mother and himself when he saw the storm approaching.”

Dabbing her eyes, Viola nodded. “I think the same, but why would their native guide have informed the authorities and arranged for that letter to be written if Father’s team hadn’t already searched and found no sign of them?”

“Fear, perhaps, that he would be blamed for the loss of two English people. Or he may have used the excuse of the storm to cover a theft or decided to abandon them in order to make off with their property.”

“You sound as though you have experienced some of those things?”

Lord Amhurst spread his hands and shrugged. “Managing a native team of porters and guides on an expedition carries certain risks. One must expect that not everyone has the same goal. But your father has a reputation for dealing fairly with his workers.”

“I am glad to hear it. But I still don’t understand why the guide had that letter sent to us.

“To cover himself. Viola, there are many scenarios in which your parents are alive and well, and will be coming home to you, and only one which is inconceivable for a loving child to contemplate. Hold to the possibility of the many, not the unthinkable one.”

Even as she appreciated the earl’s kindness and logical assessment of the situation, Viola was aware that some change had occurred between them.

“Thank you, my lord.” She used his handkerchief to dab her nose and imagined how wretched she probably looked after giving in to her sorrow. That was not how she wished to present herself to Lord Amhurst—

“Oh, you called me by my name.”

An arrested look appeared in his eyes. “Did I? My sincere apologies, Lady Viola. I sought only to reassure you.”

“You did, and please do not concern yourself. I feel much better after your sensible evaluation of the situation, my lord.”

“Please, I would be happy if you would use my name. It is George.”

That invitation, so personal and intimate among the upper levels of Society, should have made Viola proud of her rapid success with the earl. To go from being introduced last night to using his first name today was a minor miracle.

But Viola felt he had offered it as a kindness in her distress rather than as a suitor in pursuit of her hand. In her weak moment—and Viola hated feeling weak—she had found a connection with the earl. A connection brought about because of his humanity.

Perhaps if she played her cards well, she would find more than the usual convenient Ton marriage with him.

“Do you wish to continue riding, or shall I return you to your home?”

Viola met his compassionate gaze and then glanced at Daffy. “If it’s all the same to you, my lord—”

“George.”

“George.” Viola couldn’t help but smile. “I would dearly love to find somewhere to at least canter. Such a fine day should not be wasted.”

“Then let us not waste a moment more.”