Vexing the Viscount

“Any woman,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Neither would I force your daughter into marriage with my disreputable brother. She deserves far better than Jonathon.”

Mrs. Featherstone relaxed slightly. “At least on that we can agree.”

Braden released a sigh. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do right now. He’d only come out to the Midlands to get away from the constant barrage of gossip regarding his sudden ascension to viscount. Rumors of his involvement in both his uncle’s and cousin’s deaths were driving him mad. Becoming Viscount Middleton was the last thing he’d ever wanted or expected.

He had earned enough money on his own that becoming a viscount held no interest for him. But now that the choice had been taken out of his hands, he’d decided to do what his mother would have wanted and become a respectable lord.

“Well?” she said impatiently.

“Do you have any idea where she might be?” he asked, feeling defeated by a cantankerous middle-aged woman.

She tossed a letter on his desk and then walked toward the door. “That’s all the information I have.”

“Mrs. Featherstone, wait.” Braden waited for her to stop and look back at him. “Why Jonathon?”

“She thinks she is in love with him,” she replied with a shake of her head. “Foolish girl.”

Foolish indeed. And now he’d be on a fool’s errand, trying to rescue a woman who would not want to be rescued. Well, this should be an interesting trip. As Mrs. Featherstone departed, Braden sat down and scanned the letter. Thankfully, Tia had left an address where she would be staying with friends. He folded the letter and put it in his jacket pocket. At least finding her wouldn’t be terribly difficult. Only convincing her to return would be a chore. If he could find Jonathon, then his brother could tell Tia the truth about his feelings for her. Once she heard his brother didn’t love her, she would run back to the estate and perform her job there. Braden knew if he tried to tell her himself, she would never believe him.

Knowing it would take a few days to reach London, he ordered a horse saddled and a small bag packed. In less than a week, he would be on his way back with his wise woman in tow.

Tia Featherstone hurried her step as dusk fell. The area around Whitechapel became particularly unsafe as darkness swept over the dirty streets. She needed to be back in her tiny room at the Goat’s Horn Inn as quickly as possible. Her walk to Mayfair had taken much longer than expected today. After investigating more places that Jonathon should have been, she had no idea where to look next.

“Come on over and let me take a look at ye,” an older man said from a step outside a decrepit house. He sipped from a gin bottle. “I got enough coin for the likes of you.”

Tia choked back a sob. “I am not for sale.”

She hurried to get farther away from the drunken man. Hearing footsteps fall into the same rhythm as hers, she peeked back and noticed a man in black stalking her. Her heart pounded in her chest as she broke into a run. It wasn’t the drunken man who’d propositioned her, but in this part of London, it could be anyone chasing after her. The rumors of women being sold into prostitution and white slavery had reached even as far into the country as the Midlands. Before she’d thought those stories were to keep women from running to London, but after seeing the crime here, she wasn’t so certain. Glancing back, she realized the man was starting to gain on her position. She rounded the corner and raced inside the inn.

“Good evening, Miss Featherstone,” Mrs. Turner’s disapproving voice sounded from the salon as Tia slammed the door behind her.

“Good evening, Mrs. Turner.” Tia leaned against the door to catch her breath. At least now, she was safe.

“Tomorrow you shall have to pay if you wish to stay any more days here.”

“Of course, that won’t be any trouble at all.” Tia climbed the stairs slowly, wondering where she would come up with another week’s rent. After opening the door to her room, she pulled out her small reticule and dumped the few coins on the bed. She barely had enough for the post carriage back to the Midlands.

Problems had riddled this trip from the start. Her plan had been to stay with her friend Amy and her husband, but when she arrived at their flat, she’d discovered they had been evicted the week prior and left no forwarding address, forcing Tia to find more expensive accommodations. Mrs. Turner’s establishment was one of the few that would accept an unmarried woman traveling alone, but the weekly rent was not cheap, even for Whitechapel. With breakfast provided, it came to be her only meal most days. Even now, her stomach grumbled for a bite of something.

She cursed softly and pushed the coins back in her reticule. For almost a fortnight, she’d spent every day walking back to Mayfair in search of Jonathon. He wasn’t at any of the places he’d told her about during their talks at the estate. She’d been certain he would stay at either the viscount’s town home or perhaps the Albany. But the servants at Middleton’s home hadn’t seen or even heard that Jonathon was in town. The man at the Albany had told her bluntly that Jonathon was not staying there. She had to locate him before he dove back into his old habits. He’d done so well while at the estate, finally breaking from the control the opium had over him.

The idea of not finding him before he succumbed to the drug was driving her mad. She couldn’t face losing another patient after little Amelia. The guilt she felt over that child’s death a year ago haunted her even today. She should have known what was wrong with her. The symptoms were obvious.

“Where are you, Jonathon?” she asked the ceiling as she collapsed on the hard bed. Even though Tia had walked the estate every day while she was the wise woman for Middleton, trudging through the streets of London was far harder as she dodged carts, horses, and people the entire time. And so far it was all for naught.

With a long sigh, she pulled out her small map and stared at the streets in Mayfair. Tomorrow might be her last day here. Mrs. Turner would evict her when she didn’t pay for another week. Then what would she do?

Slowly, she sat up and pulled off her short boots. She rubbed her aching feet and wished for a moment that she could sit by the pond at the estate and dip her feet into the cold water. Reaching for her hair, she pulled out the pins holding it in place. She ran her fingers through the mass of curls.

What she needed was a plan.

But what?

She could tuck her tail between her legs and go back home. Middleton would let her resume her duties caring for his tenants and servants. She barely knew the man, but he didn’t seem to be the type who would care if she lived on his land as long as his tenants and servants were happy.

But she didn’t want that. London called to her. And Jonathon too. With his blond hair and amber eyes, he was beyond handsome, almost bordering on beautiful. His skin was fashionably pale and he wore only the finest of garments. She had to devise a plan that would help her find him. She stared at the map. Tomorrow, she would rise early and walk to Hyde Park. All the gentlemen took their morning rides through the park and she would be there waiting for him.

With a satisfied smile, she placed the map on her nightstand and worked at the buttons on her dress. Just as she reached the second button, loud voices sounded from the hall.