Chapter Five

Later that day

I am engaged to a viscount.

Charity still couldn't believe the events that had happened to her since arriving at her father's pawn shop yesterday morning. Instead of being alone in the world, she now had a fiancé, and he was a father to a bright eight-year-old boy. Granted, the marriage was only one of convenience for each of them, but somehow that didn't matter. Suddenly, she had her future secured, and there was a certain level of comfort in knowing she wouldn't need to face anything alone.

As raindrops streaked down the window glass of Lord Winteringham's closed carriage, she peered out at the wet streets beyond. They were on the way to her father's shop, and it was rather an emotional time. Her father had missed so much of her life; he wouldn't be there for any of the lovely moments still to come. What would he have said about the arrangement she'd struck with the man traveling with her? Would he have agreed it was in her best interests?

"You are welcome to stay in the carriage if you cannot stomach going inside."

The sound of the viscount's voice jarred her out of the maudlin thoughts. She raised her gaze to his as he sat on the bench opposite her then she started when she realized the vehicle had stopped moving, resting at the curb in front of her father's shop.

"Oh, I will be all right, I think. I can't just bury my head in the sand, can I? And since the debacle inside was the reason that led to you offering for me, I intend to see it through." Then another thought occurred to her. Once the mystery surrounding the tiara had been solved, would he still want to marry her?

"Are you certain? I don't mind taking a look around myself." Concern rang in his voice and lay stamped on his face.

She nodded. "I'm certain." Then she gave in to a shiver. "You needn't put yourself in potential danger while leaving me behind."

"Very well." The ghost of a grin curved his sensual lips.

The carriage rocked as the driver left his box. Seconds later, he opened the door and then put down the steps.

After the viscount exited the vehicle, he offered a hand and helped her down. Water immediately dripped from the brim of his top hat. "We shouldn't be long," he told the driver.

"I'm not going anywhere, my lord," the other man responded.

As Charity stood contemplating the closed shop door, she shivered again, rubbed her hands up and down her arms. She wore an ivory spencer, borrowed from the cache of clothing that had once belonged to the viscount's first wife, and thankfully, one of the maids loaned her a pair of half-boots that fit her foot so she could accompany her fiancé on this errand.

"Come. The sooner we go inside, the sooner you can put the incident behind you," Michael murmured at her side as he put a gloved hand to the small of her back.

That light touch brought her comfort, and she nodded. When he opened the door and let her precede him, she gasped as soon as she went over the threshold. "Good lord, someone has been here. It's completely in shambles."

No longer was the shop organized the way she left it. Instead, items had been yanked off shelves and smashed on the floor. Packing crates had been pried open and the contents disturbed. It was difficult to figure if antiquities had been stolen or merely broken; all around her was chaos that represented a hefty portion of her father's work.

"This will make looking for the tiara that much more difficult." The viscount rested his hands on his narrow hips as he glanced around the small space. One of the shelves on the opposite wall listed drunkenly to the side, devoid of all contents. "I somehow doubt if your father had the item here, he would have left it on the shop floor. That seems reckless."

"Perhaps." She frowned at the mess. "This breaks my heart. Some of the pieces weren't overly valuable, of course, but some items once belonged to people in Mayfair who needed quick coin during a desperate time in their lives. Now they can never return to claim their items back."

"It is unfortunate, to be sure, but we cannot do anything about it now." As he picked his way across the floor through the debris, he looked at her. "Lock the door. We can sort it all out later, unless you cannot bear it, then your uncle can decide what to do once he arrives. Do you live upstairs?"

"No." She shook her head, but hearing the viscount say that gave her permission to keep her worry in check. "Papa has a modest townhouse in the Marylebone neighborhood. Not many people know that. Most assume we live upstairs, which we did at one time before Papa wanted a more impressive address so he could host society events."

"That makes sense." He transferred his gaze to the back room. "What is up there now?"

"Nothing, really." Quickly, Charity threw the lock on the door and then went to join him as he edged around the front counter. "Storage, mostly Empty packing crates and things like that."

"And those rooms have probably been just as torn up as this one. Would your father keep something as valuable as the tiara up there?"

"I doubt it. Papa was very aware of each object's value. He did copious amounts of research or had me do it, and he rarely left relics in the shop at the end of the day. He kept them at home and sold them to private buyers after he met with them personally."

"It sounds as if your father was an honorable man in sales and acquisitions."

"He was the best of all men," she said on a choked whisper. Perhaps she would have time to grieve soon.

Michael flashed her a sympathetic smile. He caught her hand and squeezed her fingers before releasing her. "Did he have a hiding spot he favored? Tell you about a safe he might have kept?"

"Not here." A gasp escaped her suddenly tight throat. "Oh, God."

"What?" Immediately, the viscount went on alert .

She stared at him while knots of unease tugged in her belly. "There might be someplace at home…"

"Ah." The viscount nodded. "Let us away to your father's house."

"You sound as if you belong on a Shakespearean stage." Her lips twitched with the urge to smile, but she was far too worried for that.

"There are no rules that state a man must prove somber all the time." With a wink, he escorted her back through the debris on the floor, waited until she unlocked the door, and then when she brandished the key and they went outside, he took the key from her with a flourish and re-locked the panel. "Shall I keep this safe?"

"It would be a good idea since my reticule is at home." Her cheeks heated. "Well, my last home, that is." She still couldn't believe the changes that were in store for her life.

"Indeed." There was nothing in his tone or expression that gave away his thoughts as he escorted her through the rain to the carriage. After she gave her address to the driver, she was assisted into the vehicle. As soon as the viscount joined her, he pulled up the steps and closed the door, then the carriage lurched into motion.

The viscount stretched an arm along the back of his bench as he regarded her through the rain-induced gloom. He was every inch the lord of leisure. "I imagine your mind is spinning from the pace of everything just now."

"It is. I can scarcely allow myself to think of anything beyond the tiara."

"Understandable." He nodded. Each time he moved, his citrus and sage scent filled the interior of the carriage. "If you have questions for me, I don't mind answering them if it will set your mind at ease."

"I appreciate that." Charity frowned at her clenched fingers resting in her lap. "Tell me a couple of interesting facts about yourself."

"Clever girl." His grin sent another horde of butterflies tickling through her belly. "Well, as I've told you, I'm a member of the Rogue's Arcade club. Those members are much like family to me. There isn't anything I wouldn't do for the men there." A muscle twitched in his cheek. "They are unlike any men I've ever met, and to be there to see their lives grow and change has been amazing."

Those words tugged at her heart. "That is a lovely sentiment. I'm glad you have that." Due to her father's penchant for travel, they were rarely in London more than three or four months of each year. It left precious little time to make friends, and she longed for such relationships.

"So many of them have recently married or are starting families. But there is a countess in the beau monde who hates all of us and has tried to hurt some of the members. "

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Who can say why people do what they do? Hate is a sickness, and it is a conscious choice." For long moments, he remained silent, no doubt searching for words. "The war, although exciting, was also taxing. Losing friends and acquaintances took its toll on me, and fighting for someone else's skewed view of the world or for their own personal power left a bad taste in my mouth."

"I understand that. After traveling and seeing many other cultures and ways of life, I am more convinced than ever that war is wildly unnecessary."

"Yes." Michael nodded. "When my commission expired and I returned to London from the war, I suffered from anxiety. There are times when I retreat into himself, I freeze almost, when it is too noisy or crowded around me. Such things put me right back on those battlefields, and I find I am lost until someone prods me out of those fugues."

"I'm sorry. That sounds horrible and frightening." She couldn't imagine what went through his mind during those times.

"It is, and there is no way to control them. I… am embarrassed that Christopher sees me so weak."

"But he understands, I'm sure." Though it was a heavy burden for them both. When he didn't answer, she rushed in to fill the silence. "You enjoy reading I'll wager?"

"Yes. It provides a much-needed escape."

"I think so too. From all accounts, it appears you are close to your son. I remember how close I was with my own father. It is a special thing." Her chest tightened from the memories.

"Christopher is my close family, as are my brothers-in-arms. My mother lives at my estate in Essex, but her health is failing, and my sister resides with her."

"How lovely that you have a sister. Will I meet her, do you think?" It might be nice to have someone her own age to talk with.

"I would imagine so. Once things settle here, I shall write to her and Mama about our engagement." A frown accompanied the statement. "They will miss the ceremony, of course, but perhaps we can hold a ball in Essex in the future."

Truly, he was a man of many layers. "Well, now you have me, for better or for worse… and I rather think you'll have the worst of it." When she snickered, he gave her a faint grin.

"Why is that?"

"I'm no one in the ton . My father was a merchant. I have no pedigree except for the fact that my mother was the granddaughter of a baron, but due to a fall out with that side of the family before I was born, we never saw them." She shrugged, for she couldn't worry about that either. "I have no dowry for you, and I won't make you any advantageous connections."

He waved her reservations away. "I don't need any of that. In fact, I'm glad not to need worry about that. We can live a modest, quiet life. Do whatever we wish."

How interesting. Suddenly, new avenues were opening for her. "I have one request, though."

"Oh?"

"Well, perhaps two." A sigh escaped her. "Will you let me use your library whenever I want? I adore reading but Papa only let me go to the lending library twice a month if we were in Town. The remainder of the time, we were traveling, and it was difficult to find books printed in English, but I snatched them up whenever I could."

His grin was a bit lopsided, which endeared him to her even more, and she'd never noticed that before. "What is mine is yours. You'll have your room at the end of the hall from mine—where you are now, actually—but my study is off limits. That is my personal space." His tone brooked no arguments.

"Of course. Everyone requires their privacy." And their marriage was only of convenience. She didn't need to dig out his secrets.

Did she?

He nodded. "And the second request?"

Heat infused her cheeks, for this might sound silly. "Will you teach me how to dance?"

"What?" Surprise jumped into his eyes.

"I've always wished to learn. It seems such fun when I read about society balls in the papers, but Papa said it wasn't a skill an archeologist or a researcher needed."

"Ah, but in that, he was wrong. Everyone must do the pretty at times, especially those seeking funding for their work." When the viscount fully smiled, it completely transformed his looks, and she stared in awe. "I would be happy to teach you, for as a viscountess, it is a skill you will definitely need."

Right. She'd forgotten about that bit. "Thank you." Then she turned her attention to the rain-streaked window to think.

Once at her father's townhouse, she was immediately assailed by members of the staff, who were worried because she hadn't returned the night before. A quick explanation was offered, and Michael was introduced to them.

"He rescued me from the man who kidnapped me." It was a thrilling story, of course, but left her with loads of worry. "In that vein, I will marry the viscount rather soon." When the housekeeper and butler stared at her in shock, she continued. "For the time being, the staff here will still have positions until I can make sense of my father's lingering estate. My uncle should arrive soon to take possession of everything."

Michael nodded and gave them that disarming grin he had. "Please don't worry over your positions. This is the best for Miss Maitland's future. I will do what I can for all of you should her uncle decide to bring his own staff in."

The offer showed her that, once more, this man she'd only met a day ago, was more than he appeared. "I will bring my maid over, though, and I need my possessions packed."

Finally, the housekeeper stepped forward, apparently over her initial shock. "I will see that everything is taken care of for you, Miss Maitland." When the older woman smiled, her eyes twinkled. "I will have your trunks sent to Lord Winteringham's home."

"Thank you." A large weight felt removed from her shoulders. "I suppose I should pack a small valise with clothing I will need for the next couple of days." Including something to wear for her wedding day.

"That's probably best," the viscount said with a nod. "Afterward, we can search your father's study." He included the staff in his gaze. "I thank you for your assistance during this trying time of upheaval."

An hour later, after searching her father's study as well as his bedchamber and the hiding places she'd thought of in the shop, they still hadn't found anything that resembled a tiara, so she packed her valise and returned home with her new fiancé. The ride home was completed in silence, for what was there to say? They hadn't found the tiara, which mean the man who wanted it would try again to take it from her.

Worry filled her chest to the point that it tightened in pain. Now she wasn't alone, and that man with the pistol would put Michael and Christopher in danger, because of her.

"Charity." When the viscount leaned forward and touched a gloved hand to her knee, she started. "All will be well," he said, and his whisper had awareness shivering along her skin regardless that her maid sat beside her on the bench. "You have my promise that no harm will befall you." She met his gaze through the gloom. Nothing except honesty shown in his eyes. "We will work through this and make your father's memory proud."

"Thank you," she managed to whisper. "I appreciate that." As well as having someone in her life to help guide her through. It was odd, this feeling not quite alone any longer and would take a bit to acclimate to.

How can this be my new life?