Amy Lake by Lady Reggieand the Viscount Page A

as one might hope and his eyes did bulge, a little—but he could have been brilliant and an Adonis for all it mattered now, because the viscountess had been so ill-advised as to insist that Isolde encourage him. 
    One did not pressure Isolde.  Which their mother should have known, but perhaps it was an excess of maternal worry for Carys.  And now the matter was beyond any hope. 
    Marry Isolde off to someone she did not truly like?  The viscount had to smile as he imagined the wedding; he saw himself walking down the church aisle with Isa slung over his shoulder, his sister kicking and screaming at the top of her lungs.
    “ I do not! ”   
    Both he and Isolde had tried to reassure the viscountess on the subject of Carys’s marriage prospects, but with little success.
    “She will find her own way,” said his sister.  “There will be any number to see her worth.”
    “But Lord Adrian is such a pleasant young gentleman!” said the viscountess.
    Isolde made a face.  “He’s a toad.”
    The marquess hid a grin.
    “Well, of course he’s not the most handsome of men—”
    “A toad,” repeated Isa.  “And he’s boring .”
    “—but I hardly think that signifies.  Think of the position you—”
    “I’m not marrying Adrian Cathorn.”
    “Isolde!”
    “I’m not .”
    Isa had later applied to him privately, and Talfryn—who by then was convinced that his high-spirited sister would not be happy with the marquess’s son—assured her that he would never require her to do any such thing.
    “Why does she think Carys so hopeless?” asked Isa, sitting in a huge armchair with her feet tucked under her.  “She’s much nicer than I am.” 
    Isolde’s loyalty to her sister was absolute. 
    “I suppose because young gentlemen do not flock around her,” replied Talfryn, adding—“the way they do you.”
    Isolde snorted.  “Young gentlemen are stupid .”
    “I tend to agree.”
    “I’ve tried to encourage her to talk more—you know, at parties and such—but why should she need to be someone other than who she is?”
    “There is no reason,” said Talfryn.
    “I’m not marrying Lord Adrian.”
    “I know.”
    * * * *
     
    Lord Davies was perfectly capable of saying ‘no’ to his mother.  The supposed association between Isolde and the Marquess of Glay’s son had not progressed to any particular degree, and  could be quashed without repercussion.  A family did not stoop to protest the disappointment of a son.
    But a daughter was quite a different matter.  He had not figured the Earl and Countess of Aveline into the equation; if his interest had been assumed, already, as definite, if expectations had formed—
    If he made an enemy of the Knowles, then both his sisters would find their prospects truly and materially reduced.
    So what? whispered a little voice.  You’ve thought of marrying the girl anyway.  She’s beautiful, lively, and intelligent.  Not to mention that she is now a regular inhabitant of your dreams.
    True.  But he had also believed Regina Knowles to reciprocate his growing admiration, to be attracted to him in truth.  And now—  Lord Wilfred Knowles wished to pursue a duke’s daughter, a match which would be a coup indeed for the earl’s family.  What if Lady Regina’s interest had been all a sham?
    Not to mention that kiss.  She’d allowed it all too willingly, hadn’t she?  The Viscount of Cardingham felt anger and suspicion stir within his heart. 
    * * * *
     
    Talfryn’s mood was not improved when, the following morning, his mother again suggested a visit to the Knowles’ townhome.
    He knew the viscountess, and did not bother to make, as it were, a tangential approach.
    “Why?”
    His mother waved her hand in the air.  “Talfryn, don’t take that tone with me—”
    “I’m taking no tone.  I am asking why you are proposing a second visit within a fortnight to a family we barely know.”
    “Barely know!  I understand you have waltzed with the