Page 5 of A Viscount’s Reluctant Passion

Chapter Three

Nash had finally fallen into his bed in Travers House many hours later, once the guests had all departed, and the staff had all of the cleaning up under control. He was happy with the day – all of his organisation had run smoothly, and everyone he cared about seemed pleased.

But as he drifted towards sleep, the part of the day that came to mind was one single moment. The moment when Miss Beatrice Wormsley had asked him if she would see him again, if he would be staying in London – and, contrary to all of his previous planning and intent, he had smiled, and agreed that he would be in London for some weeks at least.

He was quite mad to have said so, yet in the moment, the very fact that she wanted to see him again had been intoxicating. He did not wish to be so affected by a woman – for he knew that with any kind of passion came risk – yet he had felt unable to say no to her.

Sleep drew him down, and he dreamed of her blue green eyes and soft pink lips.

~~~~~

Bea had worried that Honour’s marriage might put an end to her Season, yet that had not proven the case. Honour had simply moved into James’ townhouse, and promised that she would still escort Bea to Balls and the like. Lady Wormsley would stay in town a little longer, but did not feel up to going about in society. As a result, Bea found herself often at Blackwood House, and, the more time she spent there, the more she envied her sister. It became most obvious to her that a marriage based on love was of far greater value than one based on alliances and advantage.

But she doubted, more than ever, that she would ever have such an opportunity herself. Still she tried to be cheerful, and to treat all possible suitors well, hoping that some spark of emotion might be raised within her. Yet the only man she looked forward to seeing was Lord Challoner. Lowering though it was, she was almost certain that he saw her as nothing more than a friend – a person with whom he could have a conversation about matters that most of the ton cared nothing for.

She very much enjoyed those conversations, even though she wished for more. She had known from the start that such a hope was foolish, and was determined to prevent herself from indulging in it, and to simply appreciate the friendship that he offered, no matter what else she might desire. That did not stop her heart from pounding when he entered the parlour.

She had been sitting with James and Honour, reading, when he, and his brother, were announced, and a rush of pleasure ran through her. He entered the room, and Bea ceased to be aware of almost anything else. She rose, and managed a creditable curtsey to Lord Travers, before greeting Lord Challoner.

He took her hand, and bowed over it, then rose. His eyes met hers, and everything else faded away. For a moment, they stood, as if frozen in place. Then he seemed to give a small shake of his head, and spoke, as he released her fingers from his. She felt the loss of his touch acutely.

“It is delightful to see you again, Miss Wormsley. I trust you are well?”

“I am, Lord Challoner. I have been reading, this morning. I must confess that your passing comment about estate management, at the wedding breakfast, has led me to far more consideration of what is involved in the running of an estate than I had ever indulged in before. So much so that I sought out reading matter on the subject. I realised that, all my life, I had taken what happened with my father’s estates for granted. Now, I am beginning to understand just how much must be done, for an estate to be profitable.”

She blushed as she spoke, but somehow, as it had been from the first moment that she’d met him, speaking her thoughts seemed the most natural thing to do with this man. He considered her a moment, then spoke again, his voice warm and soft.

“You, Miss Wormsley, are a remarkable young woman. That you care to learn such things is a most pleasant surprise. It gives me small hope that my conversation may not bore you utterly.”

“Thank you, my Lord! I confess that I would be most happy to discuss such things, for I have reached the point where conversation on the weather, and fashion, has rather palled for me.”

She sank back to her seat on the couch near the window, and he settled beside her, smiling.

“Then by all means, let us speak of such things. What interests you most?”

“Well… I have been reading about the ideas by which farms and land are managed. I find myself a little confused, for there seem to be so many dissenting voices on the subject of crops, field management, enclosures and more, that I cannot untangle the reality of it.”

His smile broadened, and he nodded. From there the conversation flowed, as if there had never been that awkward moment at the wedding breakfast when they had not known what to say to each other. He never once condescended to her, never once implied that, as a woman, she was not able to understand such things. He did not mock her questions – he simply answered them. That respect for her interest and her thoughts was an intoxicating thing. It made her realise that, all of her life, others had spoken to her based on what they thought she could understand, not based on what she actually did understand.

Time passed, with neither of them aware of it, until a maid came with a tea service, and Bea looked up to find Honour watching her, with an odd expression on her face. The afternoon sun cast through the window at a low angle, and she was chagrined to discover just how late it was.

Lord Challoner blinked, apparently equally disconcerted by the passing of time. They accepted tea as it was served, and allowed themselves to be drawn into the conversation of the others.

~~~~~

Nash stared at the window. When had the afternoon moved on so? Yet it was obviously late. He took the tea, and sipped at it, as his brother caught his eye. Travers’ expression made it quite clear that he would have questions for Nash, later.

Nash almost laughed. He was, it seemed, completely mad. He had just spent some hours in a thoroughly enjoyable conversation about the complexities of estate management, with a young lady whom he might, in the normal course of things, have assumed would have no interest in such matters. And it had been delightful. She was far more intelligent on the subject than his brother was ever likely to be.

Once the tea was done, Travers rose, and they took their leave. But not before he had asked if he might call on her again, either here, or at Wormsley House, to continue their discussions. She blushed, and gave her agreement, after a quick glance to her sister for approval. He walked out the door with his mind in turmoil. A turmoil which was not helped by the fact that, as soon as the carriage door closed upon them, Travers spoke.

“So, little brother, you have finally discovered that women can be interesting. But tell me – just what did you find to speak to her about, which so easily took the whole afternoon?”

Nash swallowed, knowing that Travers might laugh at his answer, but chose to simply give it, and see what happened.

“Estate management, as it happens. The respective value of cropping, grazing, and the enclosures compared to the traditional approach. Miss Wormsley has become interested in such matters, and was seeking clarification on the respective merits of different approaches.”

Travers did laugh, but when Nash did not laugh with him, but held his gaze calmly, he stopped.