“No.” Silvia’s lips had firmed into a straight line, and she stood. “I shall tell his lordship that he is not welcome.” She glanced at Punt. “I won’t be more than a few minutes.”
Vivian waited until the door closed behind her friend. “If I did not think I would be caught out, I’d be tempted to listen in on that conversation. There is much more there than meets the eye.”
Silvia’s maid was waiting when she strode into her chamber. “I need to dress immediately.”
How dare Nick Beresford come around to bother Vivian? He never could take no for an answer. Well, he would now. Silvia splashed water on her face and brushed her teeth. She would send him away with a flea in his ear.
Less than fifteen minutes later, she entered the front parlor where he’d been put. “Lady Beresford is not available to see you. If you give me a message, I promise to see it is delivered. How did you find out where we are residing?”
He gave her such a smug smile she itched to slap his handsome face.
“It was not exactly a secret, especially after the way you’ve been gallivanting all over Town with Lady Telford.”
“Gallivanting indeed. How dare you! We are doing nothing that is not normally done during a Season.”
“Silvia—”
“Miss Corbet to you, my lord.” Rage at what he’d done years ago, and how he’d left her, burbled up inside, threatening to explode. “Youno longer have any right to use my name.”
A lock of thick, dark brown hair fell over his forehead and he shoved it back. “Very well,Miss Corbet, I am not here to argue with you. I merely wish to put forth my proposal to her—”
“The same proposal as before?” She glared at him. Really, some men could be so thick, and he was the epitome of blockheadedness. “The one she already declined, and told you she would not entertain?”
“Yes, now would you please—”
“No. I will not.”
He let out a huff—actually it sounded more like a growl, but she chose to ignore it—and prepared to continue arguing.
His face flushed. “I would like to be able to finish at least one sentence.”
“Very well.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Go on.”
“I shall leave my direction.” She opened her mouth, but he held up one finger and she closed it again. “If she would like to contact me.”
“She won’t.”
“At least I tried,” he muttered more to himself than to her. Silvia Corbet was going to drive him to distraction.
Nick had to get out of there before he took her over his knee and spanked her, or did something infinitely worse, such as kiss her. God, she was beautiful when she had her ire up. The only problem was that she was standing between him and the door. “I’m leaving now.”
She swept aside, her hands now on her nicely rounded hips. Where the devil did they come from? She reminded him of a Portuguese fishwife with her chin jutting out, ready to do battle. He needed to keep that in mind and off her more pleasant attributes.
“I thought you said you were leaving.”
Fishwife.“I am.”
He grabbed his hat from the butler stationed in the hall. “Thank you.”
He strode down the street and was several houses away before he realized he was going in the wrong direction. That woman was a menace, and the sooner she married some poor unsuspecting man and moved away, the better off he’d be. Why the hell did he let her get to him? He wasn’t even sane when she was around. He slapped his hat against his thighs. Christ. He should be used to it by now.
Ten minutes later, as he was nearing his town house, he heard his name called.
“Beresford.” Hawksworth was standing less than two feet away. “I realize you haven’t spent much time around theton, but evenyoushould know giving your friends the cut direct is not at all acceptable.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”
“That was obvious. What has you so upset?”
