Dropping to a low curtsy out of her extreme embarrassment to Viscount Killsworth who would presumably be the new Earl Rosenberg, and her new guardian, Lady Sarah Jane had wanted the floors to crack open and swallow her whole.
The pins fell off before she even had a chance to think about it. It was certainly improper for her to drop on her knees and pick them up. However, It was also improper to leave her hair like that, so she did what she knew how to do, completely ignore Mathilda, and fix her hair herself.
She made the mistake of looking back to the face of the man who had broken her fall. He was devilishly handsome with unruly deep as night hair which was longer than the current fashion. It was a whole lot of hair at the top of his head, and a spare lock curled in front of his forehead. His eyes were strikingly blue and as they assessed her, she could feel them piercing through her soul.
Bless her heart, dearest Sarah Jane couldn't form a coherent thought when he was looking at her like that.
All she could think about was that she was mistaken. This was no old portly and balding Viscount.
He was young and too devilishly handsome—
He was supposed to be old and wrinkly, with a lovely wife... and... and she just couldn't help herself.
"And here I presumed you were some old folk."
She couldn't stop the words from tumbling out of her mouth. Swallowing the awkwardness, she averted her eyes to Mathilda who had been sporting a horrified expression at the whole exchange. Her mouth hung in perfect oval shape, and Sarah Jane knew that she was again in heaps and heaps of trouble.
But the Viscount, whose steely eyes had transformed into confused and comical, seemed to enjoy her little show.
His face visibly softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as his lips spread into an amused smile. A deep chuckle erupted from his throat, its sound so round and manly, that it elicited a tingle of excitement to crawl under her skin.
That was when she knew that Lord Killsworth was a very dangerous man indeed.
"How do you do, my lady," He inquired politely and dropped to a bow. He extended his bare hand for her gloved hand.
Anthony perused her arms and noted that whatever house she was schooled in had forgotten to inform her that she should cover her skin with satin, at all times. She was a lady, after all.
It was a second too late when she placed her hand in his. She seemed to doubt him and his intentions, and for whatever absurd reason, this caused him to be more excited to know her better.
Anthony gently took her hand and leaned down with the lightest of touches. His breath was hot and ticklish against her warm skin.
Lady Sarah Jane wished that she had not forgotten her gloves from the carriage. His breath was wicked, his featherlike kiss awakened something in her, and it was taking everything for her not to swoon. There was a lump in her throat which simply did not want to go away.
And then it was all over.
"I said," he gave her a jaunty grin, "how do you do, my lady," he repeated with a devil-may-care smile that sent her heart fluttering.
How she lived up to one-and-twenty without having seen a man as handsome as he, she would never know. "I am well, thank you. How do you do, my lord?"
His head tipped a little to acknowledge her greeting. "I trust that your ride was pleasant," he murmured as he motioned with his hand for them to sit on the couch. He also acknowledged Mathilda with a nod.
Lady Sarah Jane backed into the couch slowly, "it was, my lord." She smiled at him and jumped as the couch hit the back of her knees.
She was entirely thrown off her balance, and he was the cause of it all. If he noticed; he was indeed a gentleman for making no mention of it.
Sarah Jane was aware that she carried a blush that never left her cheeks. It felt extremely warm in an otherwise drafty drawing room. She was saying the silliest of things, that maybe if she started conversing like a normal human, she would be able to put herself to rights.
Sarah Jane cleared her throat, ignoring the low rumble in her belly. "Your drawing room is most lovely. Did your wife decorate it?"
Sarah Jane bit back her tongue the second the words left her mouth. She couldn't seem to stop making a fool of herself.
It was too forward of her to ask such a thing, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to know if he was shackled to a woman so lovely that birds sing when she entered the room. Desperately, she wanted to be that woman, not because she was married to him, but to be a woman who was oh-so-very elegant and could carry herself with aplomb.
"Thank you, my lady. I regret to dismay you, but I have no wife. My mother did a fine job; do you think?"
She nodded thoughtfully as her heart raced. He was unmarried!
And he is to be my guardian.
What will he do with her?
"We haven't been introduced, my lady. Would you care to tell me your name?" He was all charms, and he sat confidently in the couch, taking up as much space as he could and smiling at both her and Mathilda.
"I am Lady Sarah Jane Riverton, and this is my companion, Mrs. Robinson."
"Delighted, Lady Sarah Jane and Mrs. Robinson. I'm Killsworth."
Logical thoughts came back to her mind as their conversation steered to normal topics. Her plot to convince her new guardian for a Season in London was now at the forefront of her mind.
The viscount surely can't sponsor a Season for her while he scouts for a wife. It's... it's... well, she wasn't sure what it is, but it couldn't be right. Something about their situation made her queasy.
The plan seemed to be well thought of moments ago. Why did he have to be unmarried?
"To what do I owe the pleasure," he asked solicitously as he leaned back in the couch, taking her lush form in scrutiny.
Lady Sarah Jane Riverton, he smiled thoughtfully, she may be a little more than ten stone. Her curvy figure and healthful bosoms were wrapped tightly in her morning frock and the mere thought sent a rush of desire through his veins.
To what does he owe the pleasure, indeed.
Lady Sarah Jane didn't respond right away, instead, she tried to hide a smile. Eventually, the smile gave way to a giggle. Anthony began to doubt the girl's sanity. He didn't say anything funny, did he?
She was thinking about convincing him to give her a Season, and he spouted this nonsense about the pleasure of her company that she couldn't find anything less funny than their conversation.
"You mean to whom?" She giggled, dear heavens, she giggled like the impertinent chit that she was. She was about to inform the Viscount of the 14th Earl of Rosenberg's demise, and here she was, giggling. Mathilda could really slap her for all she cared.
"I beg your pardon?" He blinked.
Sarah Jane rather felt herself again.
She inhaled a huge breath to control the giggles and smiled sweetly. "I came to your house in... my, where in heavens is this place? I have been traveling a lot, you see. I must say that I have asked the solicitor to come first, but no... he insisted." She shot a look at Mathilda. "And she insisted that we travel immediately here, in your home," and later added, "unannounced," then ended the sentence with a loud swallow.
When the Viscount didn't answer, she added lightly, "my uncle, a grand granduncle, the 13th Earl of Rosenberg had recently passed."
This is it, she's starting to babble and no one, not even the King himself could stop her from following through with what she has to say.
Anthony blinked.
One moment they were talking about his drawing room, and next, Anthony quite felt lost. Lady Sarah Jane seemed to be amused about something, and he couldn't quite understand what it was. Now, she's telling him of a deceased relative, and he also didn't know what to do with this information. He had never been friends or acquainted with a Rosenberg.
Why was she here? He wanted to scream.
"14th," the elder woman said through gritted teeth.
Anthony shifted his gaze to the companion and quirked a brow. He implored her to give an explanation more than that. He needed more than these cryptic comments.
"The 14th Earl of Rosenberg has passed," she said with a nervous swallow.
Anthony blinked again. And? He wanted to yell. And, what?
"I know that you hadn't wanted us here." Sarah Jane sat primly and her statement sounded like an accusation. For what, he couldn't even begin to speculate.
How could he want them here, he didn't even know who they were?
"It's been a long day and we haven't eaten. I'm quite hungry you see because everything had come as a surprise. The Earl was healthy as a—"
"Ehem," Mathilda cleared her throat, but Lady Sarah Jane paid her no mind.
"In any case, we have arrived... and Oh!" She looked at her companion and plucked the jar from her hands and shoved it on his lap. "This is for you. We made it, it's my special recipe. It's a mixed berry jam, it is sweet and lovely and it has cinnamon."
Her stomach grumbled loudly.
"Oh my, my..."
Anthony stood as he felt the hunger, the nutritional kind of hunger, rumbling in his stomach.
"I apologize for not being able to predict your arrival. I haven't been a good correspondent to anyone."
Cradling the jar in one of his arms, he pulled a bell with another to summon a maid. He muttered his appreciation for the gift. He looked at it, and it had the most unusual color, but it was jam... with cinnamon.
"My lord, is your schedule full today?" Sarah Jane smiled as she stood. Mrs. Robinson's hand shot up to her arm, pulling her harshly back to her position. But the lady had none of it.
"There is much to discuss. Mr. Collins will be here in two days I presume."
There's more to the death of a relative then. Anthony was wondering what dumb luck has brought these two women in his home.
With a slow breath and a glance at his pocket watch, he looked up to continue the tiresome conversation. "And who, pray tell, is Mr. Collins?"
He should've kicked these ninnies out of his home the minute she tripped on the carpet in front of him.
Sarah Jane quirked a brow, stunned speechless.
How could he not know Mr. Collins? Sarah Jane was sure that Mr. Collins mentioned to her, only a few days ago, that he had sent a letter to inform the viscount of their precarious situation.
It was why she had known that this man had declined their presence in his house, had declined her as his ward, and had declined the Rosenberg Earldom and title.
With a proud tilt of her head, she proceeded to sway her hand dramatically. "Why, Mr. Collins is the solicitor of Lord Rosenberg, of course."
She schooled her features as best as she could to disguise the annoyance of it all. "You should meet him, he shall give you a list of this and that..."
There was a beat of silence, of incomprehension, most possibly.
"You must meet him," She nodded. "You simply...must." Then she quite felt the need to add, "Absolutely."
"I must," he repeated platonically. "I have no relations with Earl Rosenberg, what will he need to talk to me about?"
"But of course, you have!" Annoyance obvious in her stride, she walked towards him.
"My lady!" Mrs. Robinson hurried after her.
Anthony blinked. It was quite improbable that he has and wouldn't know of it. They had a relatively small family. "I have?"
"You have," she ground out. "If you did not, then there would not be any reason why we are here in..." Her voice trailed as she looked about the room. "How do you name your home, my lord?"
"Kinsmen Place."
"Ah, Kinsmen Place. It sounds like a King's home, does it not, Mathilda," she said to her companion cheerfully. "I should like to live here. It's warm."
Anthony paled. Live? Did she say live here?
The room became unmistakably cold, as the blood drained from his body.
He didn't have the words.
Was she inviting herself to stay at his own home? Or was she proposing some kind of union to him? Was this how unmarried pariahs of society act in desperation? He had been gone but a year and a half from society and they have turned back to all uncivilized manner.
It was madness.
She turned to look at him again with a giggle. "We shall have a lovely time. Yes, yeeees we shall."
For the life of him, he had not known how to treat ninnies who barged in his home and suddenly planned to permanently stay.
No, he could get his pistol from his room and chase them out.
No, he probably could just shove them out.
Or, he thought wildly, maybe the butler could do a better job...
"My lord?"
He blinked.
"My lord," she smiled and lightly patted his arm.
"What?"
She gasped, as her hand fell from his arm. "Are you not happy?"
"Happy?"
"Why, of course. You had just inherited an Earldom!" She giggled again and then this time, Anthony thought he might have forgotten how to breathe.
"With a ward of course, but I'm hardly a nuisance, I assure you. I'm quite handy. And if you so please, I can stay out of your sight for years, you would not even notice that I am here."
That would be most impossible, he thought. Anthony blinked twice. An Earldom? What had she said?
The 13th Earl of Rosenberg had passed.
"My lord?"
No, the lady at her left said that it was the 14th. He was sure he heard it right.
"My looooord," she said in an annoyingly sing-song voice.
He's going to be the 15th Earl of Rosenberg, and he doesn't even know what that entails. Except—
"Are you there," She smiled cheekily. "He's too happy to speak, Mathilda." She clapped her hands excitedly.
"You must stop, my lady. Enough."
Except for a ward. He didn't know what he would inherit, except for a ward.
An irritating, annoying, impertinent chit who—
"My lord?"
His head snapped back to her.
"The maid has arrived," she informed him.
He glanced to his right and saw that indeed, the maid has arrived.
"Breakfast is in the Banquet Room," the maid announced meekly.
The lady walked past him. "Oh, how wonderful. Breakfast at noon." And without even a backward glance she had followed his maid, his maid, with her companion trailing behind her.
Leaving him alone, dumbfounded, in the middle of his mother's favorite drawing room.
——-
A/N: I can't stop my excitement. I'm setting you up for one of the most beleaguering/annoying/funny chapters I've written for myself. Chapter 6 is where my mom started reading and investing time to actually read my book. She said, "this character reminds me of someone I would've known when I was younger." Well, isn't that the hope of every writer—-to make one's work nostalgic as it is relatable?
Thank you for reading my work. It always gives me pleasure to find new readers and meet them or talk to them! I've spent hours dreaming of this story, hours researching so that it would be historically accurate, and hours writing it to the best of my abilities. Comments are highly appreciated so that I can improve further. If you've enjoyed yourself reading this, kindly consider giving it a vote so that it bumps up Wattpad's algorithm :) Thank you!!