If the Viscount Falls (3 page)

Curse Papa and his stupid will. And curse Uncle Horace for enforcing it. Her whole life was dictated by rules! She didn't care if Dom had to work. She didn't care if
she
had to work. She'd already learned a great deal about running a household from her aunt, and whenever Auntie was ill, Jane was the one who took over her duties. So surely she and Dom could manage, even in a garret, as long as they were together.

It would be better, of course, if Dom could continue his studies and become a barrister, but she would endure
anything
to be with him. Now if only she could get the stubborn man to believe it. He was such a worrier!

That was the only reason he'd tried to convince her to jilt him. The only one. She was sure of it.

Forcing any gnawing doubt from her mind, she focused on her dancing partner. “Is this the Dettingen Waltz?”

“How should I know?” Samuel frowned. “All these dances sound the same.”

Poor Samuel had no soul. Come to think of it, even Edwin's soul had a big hole in it. Only Dom had a soul that was pure perfection.

“You're surly tonight,” she said. “Are you taking after Edwin? Or are you and Nancy at odds again?”

“When have Nancy and I ever been at evens?” Samuel caught her eyeing him with curiosity and smoothed his features. “This has nothing to do with her. I'm merely upset by something that occurred in the hall a short while ago. And I can't decide whether to tell you of it.”

“Why shouldn't you?” She smiled brightly. “I daresay I'm the most discreet person of your acquaintance.”

“It's not your discretion that worries me.” As they whirled through the dance, he lowered his voice. “Did you know that your fiancé is here?”

“What? Where?” She scanned the room for Dom but didn't see him. And he would certainly stand out, tall as he was.

“He's not in the ballroom,” Samuel said. “That's the tricky part. I ran across him sneaking into the library.”

Why on earth would he be sneaking— Oh, right. He hadn't been invited. Still, she could think of only one reason he would make the effort to enter where he wasn't wanted.

Her heart sank. “I suppose he asked you to arrange a meeting with me.” She kept hoping that if she put Dom off long enough, the foolish fellow would give up trying to get her to end their engagement. But putting him off was killing her. She hadn't seen him in weeks, and she ached for at least a glimpse of him.

“Actually, no,” Samuel said blandly. “He wasn't happy to see me. Indeed, he asked me not to tell you he was here.”

How odd. Dom was never secretive. A cold finger of premonition stroked down her spine. What could he be up to? And why wouldn't he wish her to know of it?

“Did he say why?” she asked.

“I gathered he was meeting someone, though he denied it.”

She glanced around the ballroom. Who was missing? It had to be a friend or relation of hers, someone he was trying to convince to talk to her, perhaps her uncle or aunt or—

Nancy! There was no sign of Nancy.

Her blood rose. Now he meant to enlist her
cousin
in his scheme to end their betrothal? That tore it. Enough of this nonsense. She would make it clear to the silly man that she loved him no matter what his prospects were.

Leaving the floor mid-dance, she headed for the library.

Samuel hastened after her. “Now see here, just forget I said anything.” Yet he made only a halfhearted attempt to stop her.

“The devil I will!” She skirted a group of gentlemen to reach the hall and caught sight of Dom's brother George Manton, the new Viscount Rathmoor.

That scoundrel. This was all George's fault. Given that he'd never spoken publicly of what had occurred, she suspected he was ashamed of his behavior. Unfortunately, a proud man like him would never admit his error.

Perhaps he needed a push. He needed to see just what a pass he'd brought his brother to. Then he might change his mind and return to giving Dom his allowance and paying for his education as a barrister. That would do more to solve their problems than anything.

It was worth a try, wasn't it? And this might be her only chance to get the two men in the same room.

She halted in front of the viscount. His friends stopped talking to nudge each other as his lordship turned to see her standing there.

“Miss Vernon,” he said with a cool nod.

Samuel moved up next to her to hiss, “What are you doing?”

She ignored him to address Dom's brother. “I should very much like a word with you in private, sir. Would you join me in the library?”

The other gentlemen murmured among themselves,
and she heard chuckles, but she didn't care. If she could just get Dom and his estranged brother together, she could make his lordship see sense and mend the rift.

George skimmed her with an interested glance, then flashed that toothsome smile that had most girls her age quivering in their dancing slippers. “I would be delighted,” he said, and offered her his arm.

She took his cordiality as a good sign, so when Samuel murmured, “Jane, I need to speak to you
this moment
,” she seized George's arm and said, “Thank you, Mr. Barlow, but I will talk to you later.”

As soon as they were alone in the hall, George said, “I think I can guess what this is about, Miss Vernon.”

“Please, sir, I would prefer some privacy for our discussion.”

He cast her a sharp glance. “Would you, now?” Stopping at the library door, he said, “Well, then, here we are.”

George opened it and she sailed through, expecting to find Dom and Nancy in deep discussion. Instead, she spotted them at the other end of the room, silhouetted by the firelight and locked in an intimate embrace.

She stopped so quickly that the viscount bumped into her. No, it couldn't be them. That was absurd! Surely Dom would never . . .
Nancy
would never—

One figure separated itself from the other to hiss, “Stop that, Dom! You don't know what you're doing!”

Nancy. Oh, Lord.

Jane's stomach began to churn. No. This couldn't be happening! She must have misunderstood.

But she couldn't misunderstand the grab Dom made
for Nancy's waist as he attempted to pull her back into his embrace. “I know exactly what I'm doing.”

Hearing Dom's voice made it all real. Too real. Jane's head swam. She was going to faint.

“You're only interested in my money,” Nancy protested. “I know it's Jane you really want.”

“That's not true. You and I get along very well, don't you think?” Dom lowered his head to Nancy. “Let me show you just how well—”

The crack of a hand against his cheek sounded, and Nancy shoved free. As Jane's vision narrowed and the room began to spin, Nancy headed for the door, but halted when she saw Jane there. “Oh. Um . . . this . . . it isn't how it looks.”

“Isn't it?” drawled George. “Because it looks to me like my brother is throwing his fiancée over for a wealthier heiress.”

Shocked speechless, Jane glanced at Dom. If she could just see his eyes, she would know what he felt.

But he avoided her gaze to glare at George. “This has naught to do with you, brother. And I swear, if you attempt to harm Miss Sadler's reputation by breathing a word of this—”

“I've no intention of talking about this to anyone.” George bowed to Nancy. “The lovely Miss Sadler's secret is safe with me.”

Nancy's
secret?
Nancy's
reputation? That was all Dom and his brother cared about? Dom wasn't even attempting to protest his innocence. He just stood there wooden, still avoiding her gaze, a sure sign of his guilt.

Jane swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “What the devil is this, Dom? We're engaged!”

His stance was ramrod rigid. “I suppose that loose-lipped Barlow told you about seeing me arrive.” His voice held a remote chill that struck her to the heart. It reminded her of how Papa used to talk to Mama.

Too late she remembered Samuel trying to stop her, worrying over telling her about Dom's presence.

Heat rose up her neck to her cheeks. “So you really did come here to court Nancy?” Jane fought the urge to throw up. “You are not the man I thought you were.”

Oh, God, she couldn't even summon up a clever set-down! She was about to be sick right here in front of them all. That would be the worst humiliation imaginable.

Mustn't cast up my accounts, mustn't cast up my accounts.
The chant ran in her head as she whirled to push past George and out into the hall.

“Wait, Jane!” her cousin called after her, but Jane just shook her head and kept running.

As she fled, she heard Dom say, in a clipped voice, “Let her go.”

It was the final insult in a line of them. Her stomach roiled, and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Praying no one saw her before she made it to the retiring room, she lurched down the hall to the stairs.

Dom. Oh, Lord, Dom! He wasn't hers. He'd never really been hers, had he? Clearly she'd read too much into their animated talks. Had she invented the Dom she'd fallen in love with? She must have, building her
image upon their heavily chaperoned conversations and a handful of dances.

All this time she thought he'd been trying to get her to break off their engagement out of some noble concern for her, when really it had been so he could court a rich heiress whose money
wasn't
restricted by a stupid will. Not to mention someone prettier than her.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stumbled into the retiring room. She'd believed in him. Even when Uncle Horace had warned that he wouldn't give his blessing to the union, she'd ignored him, putting her faith in Dom's goodness, his virtue, his loyalty. And for what? To be made a fool of.

Never again would she trust some two-faced man who spouted a string of lies and told her he loved her madly. Never again would she claim that fortune and consequence didn't matter in the wake of true love.

Because clearly true love was the greatest lie of all.

1

Winborough Estate in Yorkshire

May 1829

F
OUR DAYS AFTER
his arrival at Winborough's Whitsuntide house party, Dom rummaged through the drawers of the desk in his half brother's study. Where in blazes did Tristan keep his sealing wax? So far, Dom had found a penknife, some string, seventeen quills, a lint-clad lemon drop, a stack of foolscap, and a lacy garter, but no sign of wax.

He didn't even want to think about why the garter was in there. The thought of Tristan and Dom's new sister-in-law, Zoe, doing . . . whatever upon the desk made him feel like a Peeping Tom.

Just as Dom slammed the top drawer shut, he spotted the sealing wax, set neatly beside an inkpot atop the desk. Right there before his eyes, blast it all. Clearly he was losing his mind.

Dom dropped into the chair. It was all Jane's fault.
Set to inherit the Rathmoor title now that George was dead, he ought to be concentrating on his return to Rathmoor Park today and his attempts to get it out of arrears. Instead, Jane consumed his thoughts.

It was ludicrous. They were nothing to each other now. Certainly, he was nothing to
her
. After more than twelve years unmarried, she'd finally gone and got herself engaged to Edwin Barlow, the newly minted Earl of Blakeborough.

She would soon be out of Dom's reach for good, and he couldn't change that. He didn't
want
to change it. That time of his life was gone forever, as well it should be. He was quite a bit older and wiser, not to mention rougher, and she was still an heiress. They had nothing in common. They were different people.

And perhaps if he said it enough, he would finally believe it. He had to believe it. He had to excise her from his mind somehow.

“Zoe wants to know if you intend to join us for services at their church in town.”

He jerked his head up so quickly that he nearly knocked over the Argand lamp. “Blast it, Lisette, don't sneak up on me like that!”

With a toss of her black curls, his half sister approached the desk. “Don't blame me if your mind is in the clouds. I've been standing here waiting for you to notice me for a good five minutes while you muttered and cursed and scowled.”

“Sorry. I'm a bit . . . distracted, is all.”

She sniffed. “Is that what you call it? And here I thought you were merely rude.”

“Now, Lisette—”

“You were such a grump at the celebration yesterday! I don't even know why you bothered to drive the two hours over from the coast for the house party. Even Tristan noticed your foul mood, which takes some doing, since he only has eyes for Zoe.”

Dom snorted. He would never have expected his half brother, of all people, to fall in love. Especially so spectacularly. “I'm surprised he and Zoe even remember we exist, given their billing and cooling.” He narrowed his gaze on her. “Although you and Max are just as bad.”