Page 20 of Vanquishing the Viscount

Chapter Fourteen

In an effort to pull herself together so she could go outside and face the children, Emma had just stepped to the window for a lungful of fresh air. Willie and Mary thankfully hadn’t yet left the courtyard.

But they were playing with a gentleman visitor. Dabbing at her eyes and nose, Emma moved closer to see who’d come calling—and was thrown into an immediate state of confusion.

Viscount Tidworth!

Instantly, memories of their encounters added to her misery, and she ducked quickly out of sight, determined to avoid him at all costs.

She lurked next to the drapes, battling the urge to look again and see what her nemesis was up to. Part of her was wracked with guilt for the harm she’d done to him, but she also hated him for ruining her time at the ball. She didn’t want him to despise her, nor did she want to care at all for his good opinion.

All the same, she did.

Taking another sip of her water, she tucked her handkerchief away and wished she could just go back to bed, pull the covers over her ears, and shut out the world and all its problems.

“Woolgathering, Miss Hibbert?”

She spun around, nearly dropping her letter. When she saw it was Mr. Charles, she stuck her hands behind her back and tucked the letter up her sleeve. He mustn’t find out who she really was. If Tresham were sold and her parents were left without a home or a farthing, her current post was the best lot in life she could hope for. She meant to hold onto it.

Damn Charles for catching her at such disadvantage! For a brisk and virile man, he had a remarkable propensity for stealth.

“What can I do for you, sir?” she inquired politely.

He took her by the shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “I know you had a letter today. Mary can’t keep anything to herself, I fear. Bad news I surmise, from your expression. Poor Miss Hibbert. Things are not well at home, and you’re feeling homesick.”

She cast her gaze downward. “I fear it is so.”

He clicked his tongue. “Am I not sufficient distraction for you? Don’t I keep you entertained and feeling wanted here at Figheldene?”

With these words he drew her against him, one arm about her waist and the other behind her head, pressing it into the pad of his shoulder.

She struggled against his hold. “Please, sir, I—”

“You may weep upon me if you wish. I’m not at all proud, and this isn’t my best coat, so I shan’t be cross if you spoil it.”

Heavens! His kind of comfort was the last thing she wanted. She tried desperately to pull away.

“I’m not done comforting you yet, Emma,” he whispered in her ear, as one hand came up to stroke the back of her neck. “If you give me but a moment, I can banish all your cares from your mind.”

The hand at her neck caught in her hair and tugged her head back so she was looking right into his pale-blue eyes. His lips were no more than a whisper from her own.

Then his pupils darkened, and his mouth descended over hers.

She wasn’t well placed to struggle, but she tried valiantly, nevertheless, when he pressed her body hard against him, one hand stealing down to grasp her buttock while his lips plundered hers.

No! With a massive effort, she yanked herself out of his grasp, pulling him off-balance in the process. There was an ominous clink of china as he steadied himself against her desk, then the unmistakable clatter of an inkwell hitting the floor.

Charles let out a curse at the very same moment a darkly familiar voice said, “Am I interrupting something?”

Emma spun toward the doorway.

There, standing very stiff and straight, was Viscount Tidworth.

Could today get any worse?

Chapter Fifteen

James was impressed by his own sangfroid as he said evenly, “Why, Charles, you appear to be covered in ink. Hadn’t you better take speedy action?”