Page 10 of The Viscount Needs a Wife (All for Love #2)

“B e careful!” said viscount, bringing her back to the present with a jolt, his hand grabbing her elbow to hold her upright, as she nearly tripped up the step to the orangery.

“Oh!” Annis clutched at his arm. “I’m so sorry. I must have caught the hem of my skirt!”

He smiled down at her. “I’ve got you.”

“Thank you,” she said, feeling herself flushing.

When had she first noticed that the viscount was an attractive man?

Not handsome, no, but there was a masculine presence to him that set her pulse fluttering in a most disconcerting manner.

She shook herself mentally. It is completely inappropriate for me to be thinking of him like this.

The viscount held the door of the orangery open for her, and the warm moist air, filled with the sweet, tangy scent of oranges, surrounded her as she stepped over the threshold.

“Smiggens, are you here?” she called out.

An elderly man with a grizzled head popped up from a row of orange trees in pots, a pair of pruning shears in his hand.

“Miss Annis!” He said with a grin, crinkling his brown, weatherbeaten face. Seeing the viscount, he nodded his head. “Yer lordship.”

“Good morning, Smiggens.”

“Smiggens, I came to thank you for my lovely bouquet. I’m surprised there are any blooms left, it was so big!” said Annis, going toward him as he came out from behind the potted trees.

“Well, that was Lady Ava’s fault. She kept selecting flowers until it was so big she could barely carry it. That girl has no sense of proportion, and she never did.”

“True,” concurred Annis. “Anyway, they are lovely, so thank you for cutting them for me.”

“My pleasure. I hope you’re also having a lovely day?”

“I am,” Annis smiled at the old man, who was rather stooped but still strong as whipcord. “Will you be attending my birthday lunch?” she asked.

“Aye, the staff will all be there. Quite a buzz it’s causing, too. Everyone enjoys an excuse for a good feed, and Mrs. O’Neal has been up since five preparing the victuals!”

“I am so spoiled!” Annis’s heart leaped with gratitude toward her employers.

“Aye, well His Grace won’t mind if I give ye one of these,” said Smiggens with a wink, handing her an orange. She took the fragrant fruit and sniffed. “I shall enjoy that very much, thank you.”

Annis and the viscount then left the orangery and headed back across the lawn. Down one end, the servants were already setting up trestle tables and chairs for the luncheon.

“It’s such a fine day,” said the viscount. “Do you care to take a stroll to the ruins and back? The duke asked me to check something on the cross we found the other day; he is writing to the Antiquities Board about it.”

“What an excellent suggestion,” she said with a smile, her heart lifting.

They skirted the house and set off for the ruins.

As they went, she peeled the orange and offered him a segment, which he took with thanks.

She bit into a segment herself and the sweet juicy flavor exploded on her tongue.

She barely stifled a groan at the taste.

“The duke will be pleased with this crop. They are delicious,” he said, popping the rest of his piece into his mouth.

“Yes, they are.” She offered him another one.

“Tell me, Miss Pringle, in your professional opinion, are my children behind in their lessons? They have been without supervision for several months now. I am concerned they are getting behind, but with the disruption of my wife’s passing, I deemed it best to let them go wild for a bit.

No,” he corrected himself, “I confess it was more that I was at sea and not thinking very straight about anything.”

“I don’t believe that any irreparable damage has been done, but lessons should be resumed as soon as possible for the girls, especially Elizabeth. She has a lively mind that requires direction.”

“She does,” smiled her father with a hint of pride.

“It is customary to give the younger children a break from lessons in the summer months, in any case. They learn so much by being able to be out in the sun and doing things, that it is by far better for their health and development to be roaming free and exploring outdoors than stuck inside doing boring things like mathematics and grammar. You should hear Lady Ingrid on the topic!”

The viscount chuckled. “Yes, her brother says Ingrid is a handful. Worse than Ava.”

“Lady Ingrid does have a mind of her own,” said Annis diplomatically.

“Somewhat like Miss Hepzibah,” noted the viscount. “I’m surprised Lizzie hasn’t tried to tag after the older girls.”

“She prefers Emanuel. And Charlotte has attached herself to Japheth. Ewen runs after Ezekiel.”

“When he’s not attached to you?” The viscount took the last segment and gave her a quizzical smile.

She flushed, looking down to watch her step. The ground was tussocky here and uneven. “I confess he does seem to have developed an attachment to me. And I to him,” she admitted. “He is a sweet little boy.”

“He is.” The viscount cleared his throat. “The duke wanted me to record the letters on the cross,” he said, taking a folded sheet of paper and a pencil out of his pocket as they skirted the ruined tower and headed toward the mound under the tree.

They climbed the mound, Annis lifting her skirts to avoid treading on them. Fashionable hemlines were rising, but Annis’s gowns were a half decade old and out of fashion.

They reached the top of the mound, and Annis knelt to sweep away the leaves and debris that had gathered in the few days since they had uncovered the cross, while the viscount crouched beside her and copied the letters that were legible.

She was conscious of a sense of contentment in his presence that made her feel very comfortable, safe even.

Safe wasn’t a condition she had felt for a long time.

It struck her with force that she had been living with a sense of fear and dread for so long that she didn’t know what it would be like to be free of it.

She had thought for a while, living with the Laynes, that she had shaken off the shadow that dogged her.

But yesterday’s sensation of being watched had rattled her badly.

It had confirmed in her mind that the suspicions she had that she was being observed, suspicions she had been having for some weeks now, were indeed well-founded.

And with that had come the nightmares and the constant worry.

But right in this moment, with the viscount, outside in the fresh air and sunshine, with the twitter of birds in the trees and the waft of floral scents on the light breeze, she felt a quiet sense of joy and contentment, a whisper of hope for her future.

Perhaps good things might be coming to her?

It was her birthday after all—maybe the start of a new chapter in her life?

But she refused to probe further into what that might mean.

She would take the feeling at face value and enjoy it.

Such moments were to be savored, not questioned.

“There,” said the viscount. “That should do it.” He folded the paper up and put it and the pencil away. Rising to his feet, he offered her a hand up. Clasping her hand, he said with a smile, “You are a most restful companion, Miss Pringle.”

His words were so in accord with her own thoughts, her heart gave an odd jerk, and a warmth spread through her chest. She flushed faintly and said, “As are you, my lord.”

He smiled, helping her down the incline of the mound. “Thank you. Yes, I’ve always thought myself an easy-going fellow. Not very interesting perhaps. But restful, yes.” They reached level ground, and he added, “My wife was the lively one.”

The shadow in his eyes as he said it made her heart ache for him, and she touched his arm in quick sympathy, quite forgetting—again—that such an intimacy between the governess and her employer’s guest should be wholly inappropriate.

He smiled again, throwing off the dark look and, equally inappropriately, squeezed her hand where it rested on his arm, acknowledging her sympathy without a word.

The weather continued perfect, only a light breeze and sunshine that wasn’t too hot. She wore a broad-brimmed hat to shade her face and one of her lighter cotton gowns with short sleeves that, hem length aside, was just right for the day’s activities.

The game of croquet on the lawn was enormous fun.

She didn’t get to participate in such games as a rule, her role usually being referee and cheer-squad.

But today she had been almost bullied by the duke into being captain of her own team, and she very boldly chose the viscount who naturally brought his girls with him as teams were being picked.

The duchess, with real nobility, sat out and minded Ewen, who was too young to play.

She also got Ava and Ingrid, and Heather joined the Watsons on the duke’s team.

It was a nine-hoop game, with six pairs of balls for each team.

With so many balls on the field and so many hoops to hit them through, it was a receipt for confusion and much hilarity, as when Emanuel was about to strike a ball through the farthest hoop and his twin sister screamed, “No Emanuel, that’s Miss Pringle’s team’s ball! ”

Or when the viscount hit a very neat putt that careened off the duke’s ball and sent both balls through two hoops apiece. “Two points to each team,” announced the duchess, when an appeal to the referee was made.

Her team won by a point in the end, though she rather suspected the duke threw the last shot wide to give her the win. However it happened, his team was most disappointed to lose. The Watsons, while not poor losers, were unaccustomed to it, and the boys in particular were much cast down.