Louisa sighed, and looked up at him with eyes much older and more tired than her nineteen years. “James, I’m sorry. I do truly appreciate what you’ve done to make the library beautiful, and what you’re doing to make a home for me. I’m just not used to thinking along the lines of how a viscountess would need to live. I shall try to do better.”

Her beautiful, sudden smile burst over her face again. “I just heard those words come out of my mouth. Me, a viscountess? Oh, it’s so ridiculous! I can hardly believe it. James, what were you thinking, asking me to marry you?”

He smiled back, relieved. At last, at last, he had broken through her shell of worry. “I was thinking, as soon as I saw you for the first time, glaring at me, that you would be an excellent hostess for the dinner parties I planned to throw every night for at least eightyfive people.”

“Oh, stop,” she said, laughing.

“And I could tell,” he pressed, eager to take advantage of her change of mood, “that you would love to have sixteen houses in town, each bigger than the last, and a whole army of servants to command at each one.”

She shook her head, giggling. “How well you know me. I’m astounded; you’ve penetrated to my very deepest desires.”

“Ah. . yes,” James said, clearing his throat and trying not to think of that type of desire. He darted a look at Julia, of course just to see if she had been listening, but she seemed as absorbed in her maps as ever.

“Well, we’ll leave the subject for now,” he suggested, returning to seriousness. “But if you have any ideas about what would make you comfortable, you have only to say the word. In the meantime, I’ll just focus on getting the place habitable. At least, what your aunt would consider habitable,” he finished wryly.

“Not possible.” Louisa shook her head. “If that’s your standard, I’m afraid you might as well pull this beautiful old place down and rebuild it in the middle of Grosvenor Square. She doesn’t care for much of anything outside of London.”

“That could be asking a bit much. In Grosvenor Square? The rent would be scandalous,” he bantered back.

Louisa smiled, and rose, her action matched at once by the viscount. “Thank you again, James. You’re very patient with me. I. . I’ll try to do what you want me to. I do appreciate all your kindness.”

She walked over to speak with Julia, who bounced up out of her seat at once and tossed aside the book of maps with a bit more force than would be expected for someone who was really enjoying their perusal.

James, left behind, again sank into his seat. Louisa had seemed happy at the end of their conversation, but it still rang hollow somehow. He blankly watched the two sisters talking, seeing Julia draw more smiles out of Louisa in two minutes than he had been able to get from her in the past two hours.

A peal of laughter from the other side of the room broke into his thoughts, and he snapped from his reverie to see Louisa and Julia both giggling helplessly, Julia pointing at a plate in what he very much feared was an old human anatomy book.

Just then she looked up and caught his gaze on her. She turned red and instantly slammed the book shut, stowing it behind her back like a child caught in the kitchen with a handful of biscuits. Louisa laughed even harder at this, herself turning to look at James and shaking her head helplessly.

“Julia found something rather interesting on your shelves,” she explained.

Yes, he thought bitterly; he could make his fiancée happy, as long as he didn’t talk about anything serious. As long as her sister was around her to cheer and distract her.

He smiled at Louisa, but inside, he felt leaden.

Chapter 8. In Which Baboon Behavior Leads to Unfortunate Consequences


The visit at Nicholls was intended to last only for one week, but the following morning at breakfast, Lady Irving pronounced herself “completely unsatisfied” with the home’s furnishings and arrangements.

“This is no fit place for a future viscountess,” she stated. “It’ll be at least a fortnight before I can bring the place into any semblance of fashion.”

James raised his eyes to the ceiling in an expression of pained patience that he knew the countess would ignore. “Might I remind your ladyship that this is already a fit home for a viscount? I know it’s not ideal as yet, but I’m working on it.”

“Bosh,” she replied. “You obviously need me to take you well in hand, Matheson. And I suppose you need Louisa to take you in hand, too, eh? You haven’t even had any time alone together yet.” She elbowed him. Actually elbowed him.

He eyed her buttery toast. He wondered if there was any way he could swat it out of her hand and onto her livid green gown and make it look like an accident. Probably not, but the idea was tempting anyway.

“But, Aunt,” Louisa replied, ignoring Lady Irving’s last statement, “we must end our visit as planned; we packed only for a very short stay. And think of your parrot. Poor Butternut will be missing you as well.”

“I’m sure Tom is taking good care of him,” Julia interjected. “And surely this house is prepared for guests enough that we could stay longer regardless of our luggage. Good heavens, look at the breakfast they’ve made us.”

James grinned to see her eyes widen with delight as another tray was brought into the room. She rose from her chair with shameless speed, and, finding ham and eggs under the cover, served a very unladylike heap of food onto what would now be her third plate.

As Julia reseated herself, she added, “Not that we mean to invite ourselves to overstay our welcome. At least, most of us do not. But in case you shouldn’t mind it, James, we probably could. Not overstay, but stay longer. Oh, dear — but you won’t be able to say you don’t wish us to stay, even if it’s the truth; that would be excessively rude of you.”

“Rude I would never want to be, but as a matter of fact, I’d be genuinely happy to have you stay on,” James replied. “No need for you to worry about being comfortable even with your small amount of baggage. I have a great deal of clothing here for young ladies, which was once my sister’s. It’s well over a decade out of fashion, but you’re welcome to it.

“The only problem is,” he confessed, his eyes limpid as he looked around the table, “that the options may be limited for you, Lady Irving. The only attire I have for, er, ladies of other ages belongs to the housekeeper and maids.”

He blinked owlishly at the countess, trying to hold an expression of innocent worry. He probably shouldn’t bait his future wife’s aunt like this, but he still owed her one for that “taken in hand” comment.

Lady Irving looked sharply at him. “I’ll wager I can fit into anything my nieces can, you young rascal. So you needn’t try to send me packing at the end of the week by threatening me with a maid’s costume.”

“I would never try anything of the sort,” James said, managing to hold a straight face despite noticing, out of the corner of his eye, Julia’s desperate attempts to swallow a mouthful of eggs without choking herself on a laugh.

Faced with a string of several days and limitless possibilities for her enviable taste to find an outlet, Lady Irving determined after the meal to direct the long-suffering Simone and several of the Nicholls servants to rearrange the furniture and pictures in one parlor that she found particularly offensive to the eye. This pleasing flurry of activity kept her occupied for the remainder of the morning, much to the relief of James and, he suspected, his other two guests as well.

Once Lady Irving’s departure left them in relative peace, James wondered what Louisa and Julia would enjoy most. He was unsure of what to suggest or do next. It was an unfamiliar and unwelcome feeling for a man raised from birth to mix in the highest and most exacting circles.

In the end, although it seemed depressingly uncreative, he suggested that the three of them return to the library, where he would endeavor to point out some of the room’s treasures despite his ignorance of most of the collection.

Julia trailed behind as Louisa eagerly came along with him, hooking her arm fondly into his and asking all sorts of questions about old and rare books that he found himself almost totally unable to answer.

No, he was pretty sure they didn’t have a Gutenberg Bible.

Probably they had some things that were printed on vellum, but he couldn’t say what those might be or where they were in the library.

No, he didn’t think there were any books in Italian. . but there might be, somewhere.

Finally, when she asked him if he had any examples of block printing in his collection, he threw his hands into the air.

“I have no idea,” he exclaimed. “You’re making me heartily ashamed of myself. I’m sure there are some wonderful gems in here, but my grandfather was the last serious collector. As far as I know, there’s not even a catalogue of what we own.”

“Then you really ought to have one made,” Louisa said decisively. Her face lit up. “Oh, James, could I work on one? It would be my delight. I know our book collection at Stonemeadows so well, and as you might imagine, it’s not often that I get the chance to look—really look — at another home’s library.”

“I would love to have you create a catalogue, if you would enjoy that,” James replied. His nagging unease lifted a bit at Louisa’s excited expression. “Actually, that’s a fine idea. The library would be the better for your expert treatment.”

“I’m hardly an expert,” Louisa confessed. “Just a selftaught book lover. But I would like this, very much. I can make a beginning while we’re here this week, and perhaps we can continue on here awhile longer than we had planned.”