The Madness of Viscount Atherbourne (Rescued from Ruin, Book One) (14 page)

“… empty the chamber pots three times a day
instead of four. Well, I can tell ye right now, Mrs. Garner will
not tolerate such laziness.” Focusing on the housekeeper’s voice,
Victoria realized she hadn’t a clue what the woman was talking
about.

“So, now Agnes is back in the kitchen helpin’
Cook.”

Ah, yes. Agnes, the troublesome chambermaid.
Victoria recalled Mrs. Garner mentioning her yesterday. Mrs. Garner
was fond of informing Victoria about every detail of household
happenings. Very, very fond.

“Mrs. Garner, have we a spare table somewhere
in the house? I would like one for my studio. A simple work table
should suffice.”

“Yes, my lady. Saw one in the attic jes’ last
week. The maids and I—”

“Excellent! What a marvelous memory you have.
Please ask Donald and Geoffrey to place it beneath the windows
furthest from the fireplace. Also, I should have more supplies
later this week, as I will be visiting my former home and believe
there are some items I left there.”

Mrs. Garner went silent. Her keys jangled as
she folded her hands at her waist, tense and uncomfortable. How
odd, Victoria thought. Perhaps she wasn’t feeling well.

“My lady,” Billings bellowed from the open
doorway.

Victoria smiled and called out, “Yes,
Billings, please come in.”

He shuffled forward bearing a silver tray
upon which lay a paltry stack of papers. Thanks to the scandal,
invitations and correspondence had been quite sparse.

“Your correspondence, my lady.” Billings
bowed and held out the tray.

Victoria quickly thumbed through the stack.
Three envelopes, none of them from her brother. She frowned.
“Billings, is this all the correspondence? Did we not receive
anything from the Duke of Blackmore?”

Billings did not answer, instead standing
solemnly, his mouth pursed as though in deep thought. Or tasting
something bitter that should not have been. Victoria wondered if
perhaps he had fallen asleep or simply hadn’t heard her.

She tried again, louder this time.
“Billings?”

“Yes, my lady?”

“Have we received any letters from the Duke
of Blackmore? Is this”—she held up the stack—“all that has
come?”

He was silent again for a few seconds, then
replied, “That is all the correspondence for my lady today.”

Victoria slumped a bit and sighed deeply. She
looked down at the stack in her hands. Was Harrison angry with her?
True, she had disgraced herself and, by extension, the duke. But
she had thought marrying Lucien and working to restore her
reputation largely resolved the matter. Harrison did not often
demonstrate warmer emotions, but Victoria had never doubted his
affection. Surely, he must forgive her.
But, then, why has he
not at least written? It has been ten days since the wedding. And I
have written him twice.

She looked up at Billings and Mrs. Garner,
who both still stood before her, shifting uncomfortably. “Thank
you, Billings. Mrs. Garner. You may be about your duties.”

Once they departed, Victoria distracted
herself from thoughts of a possible rift with Harrison by opening
her correspondence. The first letter was from Great Aunt Muriel,
congratulating her on her marriage; the second was a rather
staggering bill from Mrs. Bowman.
Oh, my,
she thought, eyes
flaring at the number on the final page.
Perhaps I should have
exercised greater restraint.
Until now, Lucien had been a kind
and indulgent husband, but that did not mean his goodwill was
endless. In truth, Victoria could not be certain how he might
react. She had married him. They shared a bed. But try as she
might, she could not say that she knew him.
Well, biblically
speaking, you know him spectacularly well.
A faint smile
touched her lips and a small shiver climbed her spine. However, if
asked to predict his behavior or to understand his decisions, she
found herself quite at a loss.

She bit her lip and set the bill aside.
Better not to think of it now.
Besides, the third letter
most interested Victoria. It came from Lady Berne, inviting
Victoria and Lucien to dinner next week with the intent to “discuss
a stratagem whereby matters might be restored to their proper
order.”

Relief flooded her; the countess intended to
help with the scandal. Lady Berne was a godsend, constant and
generous where others would unquestionably abandon her. Having such
a well-respected matron on her side would make her reentry into
society significantly easier.

Warm lips caressed the nape of her neck.

“Lucien!” she yelped. “You startled me.”
Indeed, her heart hammered away at her breastbone. Or perhaps that
was the effect of his tongue stroking along the side of her
neck.

“Sorry, love. Too tempting, you know.”

His voice, low and smooth, echoed down her
back, becoming warm tendrils of need that wrapped around her womb.
His strong arms curled around her shoulders from behind, and he
whispered in her ear, “What are you reading?”

“Hmm?”

He chuckled sensually and kissed the shell of
her ear. “The note you are holding. What is it?”

She glanced down, surprised to find the
invitation still clutched in her hand. “Oh! Lady Berne would like
us to join her and Lord Berne for dinner on Tuesday next.”

He froze, slowly withdrawing his arms and
straightening behind her. She turned sideways in the chair to
glance up at him. His face was dark and taciturn, his posture
stiff. “For what purpose?”

His tone sent a chill over her skin. She
blinked up at him. “I believe she wishes to help with the
scandal.”

Stepping back, Lucien crossed his arms over
his chest. “Who else will be there?”

Victoria shrugged. “She did not say. Is it
important?” He did not reply, his gaze moving through her without
stopping.
A strange reaction, indeed.
“Lucien?”

His smile returned, but this time it felt
detached, as though she were a casual acquaintance, not the woman
he had made love to less than four hours earlier. “Only insofar as
those present can be trusted.”

Frowning, she stood and set the letter upon
her desk, then pivoted to face her husband—who now felt very much a
stranger. Cold settled over her like a cloak. “Lady Berne has been
a true friend to me,” she said softly. “I believe she feels
responsible for my current predicament and wishes to rectify the
situation. I have every reason to trust her.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she replied, her temper beginning to
rise. “She has always had my best interests in mind.”

“Your best interests. Stickley, for
example.”

The mention of the man she had
betrayed—especially coming from the cause of that betrayal—sent
resentment and shame knifing through her. “I will not discuss
Stickley with you. Pray, do not speak of him again.”

Lucien lowered his chin and gave her a
burning glare. “My point is that Lady Berne—and others who should
have known better—steered you toward a man as ill-suited for you as
a boar for a goose.”

“Others …?” She frowned, then realized to
whom he was referring. “You mean Harrison.” Stiffening in outrage,
she retorted, “Frankly, my lord, the only one who has demonstrated
ill intentions toward me is you.”

If his expression was anything to judge by,
Lucien was most displeased with her candor. “Careful, my darling,”
he said. “You do still require my cooperation to regain your place
in society, yes?”

A ripple of shock rolled through her at the
implication. “Are you threatening to withdraw it?”

“Depends.”

“Upon?”

He smiled at her, not one of his
oh-so-charming, devil-may-care smiles. This one had menace in it.
“How well you comport yourself as my wife.”

Backing up until she felt the edge of the
desk behind her hips, she shook her head. “What does that
mean?”

He moved closer, now mere inches away.
Betraying shivers of remembered pleasure rippled over her skin. “A
good wife would understand that I want nothing to do with the man
who shot my brother.”

Her eyes had dropped to his lips while he was
speaking, but then quickly flew up to meet his flat gaze. “I do
understand. Still, you cannot think to avoid him forever.”

“Can’t I?”

Surely he could not mean … “Lucien,” she
said, her voice hoarse with disbelief. “He is my brother. And a
duke.”

“And a murderer.”

She swallowed hard against the accusation.
She did not know what the duel had been about, but she did know
Gregory Wyatt had been the one to issue the challenge. “That is
deeply unfair.”

“I owe him nothing, least of all
fairness.”

Searching his face for signs of the man he
had been only that morning, she found only deadly determination,
hard bitterness, and old rage. Inside, a part of her that had begun
to hope, perhaps even to love, shriveled and bled. But years of
being the Duchess of Blackmore’s daughter occasionally came in
handy, and she quickly composed herself. “Fine. You do not wish to
see Harrison. But surely you do not intend to prevent me from doing
so.”

He leaned forward until his eyes were level
with hers, bracing his hands on the desk behind her, enclosing her
until she could see nothing but him. “That is where you are
mistaken, my dear. You are my wife, an extension of me. He is my
enemy, and you will have nothing to do with him.”

He could not mean it. “You cannot mean it,”
she rasped.

“I assure you, I am most sincere.”

“But I must visit Clyde-Lacey House to
retrieve my supplies—”

His face hardened further, the muscle in his
jaw flexing. “No contact, Victoria, do you understand? None.”

“But—”

“Not letters. Not visits. Not chance
encounters. Nothing.”

She stared at him, this stranger she had
married. The man who had given her unspeakable pleasure for the
past ten days.
You should have known,
she told herself
bitterly.
Such indulgences have only ever led to disaster. You
must learn to control your desires, Victoria. Otherwise, they will
control you.
The admonition was a familiar one, though it had
been years since she’d heard her father’s voice in her head. It
reminded her of Harrison. Chin rising, eyes narrowing, she
declared, “I will not abide by such an absurd demand.”

His head tilted in a most predatory way.
“Then I fear you shall suffer the ravages of the gossips on your
own.”

“You honestly mean to allow your wife to
continue being the subject of such a scandal? No gentleman would do
so.”

He gave her a single nod, the gesture slow
and faintly mocking. “Now you’re catching on.”

The threat was real enough to feel like a
sword piercing her stomach. The very purpose of marrying Lucien had
been to restore her reputation. If he refused to cooperate, it
would all have been for nothing. Oh, he was a skilled seducer. And,
yes, perhaps she had begun to indulge in daydreams of making this
marriage into something more than a convenience. But he obviously
did not share her foolish sentiment. A husband who wanted a real
marriage would not threaten to abandon his wife.

Victoria lowered her eyes and forced herself
to think logically, as Harrison often encouraged. Admittedly, her
options were limited. One: She could defy him, which meant any
benefit gained from the marriage would be largely moot, and she’d
be right back to where she had begun—disgraced and hopeless. Or,
two: She could comply, gain his cooperation for however long it
took, and then see about Harrison later.

“You are despicable,” she muttered.

He grinned. “So you have said.” He ran a
finger down her cheek, which she promptly batted away. She could
not bear for him to touch her.

“I will do as you ask in regard to
Harrison.”

“Splendid.”

She shoved hard at his shoulder. He did not
budge. “For now,” she said emphatically. “Assuming you are of use
to me.”

His hand fell over his heart, his voice low.
“I live to be used by you, my darling.”

Ignoring the innuendo, Victoria pushed away
from the desk and sidled past him to pace the room briskly. The
distance helped clear her mind, but it did nothing to ease the
coldness inside her. “We’ll begin with Lady Berne’s dinner. I shall
expect your
full
cooperation, my lord.”

“So long as you heed my wishes, I will aid
you with your little project.”

Straightening her shoulders, Victoria faced
him and nodded, clasping her fingers at her waist. “It is good we
understand one another.” And it was. She would not be fooled
again.

Something of her thoughts must have shown on
her face, because he paused, searching her with his eyes, then
slowly moved forward until he stood less than a foot away. “We
needn’t be so at odds, love. There are many pleasures yet to be
explored between us,” he said softly, sounding too much like the
man she had begun to fall in …

No. That way lay disaster.

“Your position is entirely clear, my lord
husband.” The starch of dignity gave her voice an icy snap that
more resembled Harrison’s than her own. “Now allow me to explain
mine. Whatever pleasures we may have once enjoyed are at an end. If
it would not stoke damaging gossip among the servants, I would move
into the guest chamber this very day. And you would
never
touch me again.”

Slowly, his eyes dropped to her bosom and
made a leisurely return to her face. “You are angry now, but you
will change your mind.”

Breathing around a gnawing ache at the center
of her chest, Victoria wondered if she would ever be able to look
at him and not want him so badly it made her fingers curl. Right
now, she longed for that time to come as soon as possible, for she
very much feared if it did not, he might prove correct.

“We shall see, my lord. We shall see.”