The Vicious Viscount

chapter 7

Chapter seven

Grey Cross Park ,London 1815    

"The guests have arrived" Lady Annabelle annouced from the doorway of the study, where her cousin sat at his desk amid stacks of account books. The late afternoon sun streamed through the long, rectangular stained-glass windows. Malcolm, Lord Grey, glanced up from his work with a scowl that drew his dark brows together over his emerald-green eyes. "Let the turmoil begin" he muttered.

Lady Annabelle, his cousin who was five year older than him but sometimes seemed like younger, not by apperance but by behaviour, at thirty four years old some would think a person might grow and get mature, apperantly not her. But he loved her, the only reason why her words always had an affect on him, and also how she know won on convincing him. She was married to a duke, Lord Standford, a result that had her father, his uncle adore her even more, but as foolish as it sounded, she argued that she married for love. And the fact that she seemed blissfully happy of three year marriage had made him almost believe her words... almost.

Belle laughed. "I assume your referring to the daughters? Who may know, they might swipe you off your feet, I would very much like to see the lady who accomplish that"

"Cease those thoughts, a lady shall not have that effect on any man," Malcolm said succintcly, his scowl deepening as he saw that the temporarily forgotten pen in his fingers had left a large blot of ink on the immaculate row of fingers, realising the stern tone in his words he continued calmly "While I believe in you I certaintly hope you will not imagine a ill-mannered---" before he could continue the conversation or more like scowling that Lady Annabelle probably had heard more than any sane woman shall endure, she interrupted with a smile at the corner of her lips silently wondering what in the world have made him this way. Gone were the charming man who had a glimmer of light in his eyes, the wide smile with his eyes crinkling, the keen sense of humour he had "—My imagination don't tend that far, although I can only hope for something as you gaining affection for this ladies, in time of course"

Malcolm nodded curtly as if they were talking about the weather and not a subject that could change his whole life, being a married man. Finding a lady among the hundreths in the season ball he hosted. For the first time in years had the Viscount of London decided to court a lady. He knew that it was just pick one out of them, after all there wasn't really a difference, the image of a lady standing at perfect posture, smiling so wide that her mouth might permanently stay so, forcing a laughter. They all came with huge dowry hoping to be the lucky lady to marry a Viscount. At twenty-nine there wasn't a thing he hadnt achieved, the grey trade had gone tremendously higher making him the most sought-after.

His attention went back to his cousin Belle, "Perhaps, that could occure"

Annabelle clenched her teeth trying not to lash out on him and ask what the bloody hell had overtook him, to be so distant and emotionless. then a wave of sympathy hit her when she remembered the bond they used to have. When Viscount Grey died it shook the whole city, he was an beloved man had elegance and intelligence that was admired, Annabelle had no doubt that Malcolm would turn out like her father... But she wasn't that sure anymore. He raised Malcolm like a father should, she could only imagine how the loss tore Malcolm. It made him a different person, he overworked and did barely take a break,. She wished to see him happily married to a woman who could lift a smile on his face. And she wondered what kind of woman would find a fond in him when he had become the psychial stamp of her father, Lord Ruthfourgh.

  "Your father would want the best for you, that means your love life as well" She carefully said but by the muscle in his jaw twitched when he looked up from his work , she knew her words were not taken carefully.

With a last glance she spoke, "Don't make the guest wait, a long season is ahead of us"

And long it indeed would be, Malcolm muttered under his breath before the door closed swiftly leaving him with himself. Something that he did not like, peace and quiet was a different thing but when he was left with his thoughts consuming him it did not leave him feeling at peace. He leaned back in his chair away from the pile of files and instead glanced out the huge balcony. His gaze was set without focusing on the view, instead he wondered if he did the right. Malcolm laced his fingers together and rested them on the hard surface of his stomach. The warm weather of July had him removed his coat and rolled it up his sleeves, revealing a muscular forearms, lightly dusted with brown hair. He was of tall height and extraordinarly fit, with the powerful physique of an athleete.

He stood up and held the urge to smoke a cigar, it would be improper for the occasion that yet needed to happen, Grey cross park possesed the finest acreage in London, with thick forest , brillinatly flowered and wet meadows and bogs, and wide golden fields. Once reserved for the royalty hunting grounds, the estate was the most sought after place to visit and Malcolm had the pleasure to persude it. It had its perks to hold a more or less constant stream of guests at the estate, providing ample company for the horse riding and sports he loved, and in the mean time also allow for quite a bit of financial and politics manuvering. This Season ball should be no differet from any other- But for the past few days he felt unease. It ticked inside his muscles and Malcolm hated to not know what the outcome would be, when it came to financial business he had always the upperhand and men found him intimidating and hard to please, he knew what he was getting into. But a season ball with daughters of high titled men wanting to gain his attention like it was some kind of selection, that he couldn't know the outcome.

But one thing was for sure.

He would find a proper and well behaved woman to marry and settle down, have an heir who would take over his work.