Page 43 of Only a Mistress Will Do

“Damn you to hell.” He leaned over the shiny desk until his nose hovered a mere inch from her dark, brooding eyes. “Where is Miss Carlton?”

Madame Vestry shrugged. “There is no one of that name here.” Seating herself once more, she picked up her pen. “As I was saying before the interruption, I believe I can accommodate you despite the lack of a prior arrangement.” She consulted the ledger before her, turned a page. “Daphne is new and available now. Perhaps not to your exact taste—”

“To hell with Daphne, to hell with you, and to hell with this accursed place.” If she didn’t tell him he would go mad. “Where is Violet Carlton?” He clenched his fists, blood roaring in his ears. By God, he’d not be responsible if he throttled the bitch. Every second counted if he were to stop Violet.

Mirth danced in Vestry’s dark eyes for a fleeting moment. “Violet Carlton is a gently born woman who has never worked in this house. A sultry temptress named Cassandra, however, has returned.”

“’Sblood, I’ll wring your neck” Tris raised his hands, and his gaze fell on the ledger. He seized it with fingers that shook. “Where is she?”

“The green room.” Vestry smiled and ice slid down his spine. “With a gentleman, of course.”

Tris tossed the book at the smiling face and bounded out of the room. She’d cost him precious minutes. If he was too late to save Violet, he’d kill Vestry with his own hands. He pelted down the familiar corridor, his cloak billowing behind him like an ominous black sail.

Before the door, suddenly terrified of what he might find behind it, he froze. Pressing his ear to the gray-streaked panel, he strained to hear something, anything.

Silence.

His breath rasped in his own ears. Had he come too late? Were they even now in bed, the man already spent?

A chair scraped the wooden floor.

Tris hit the latch with enough force to snap the handle off in his hand. He gazed at it, amazed, then with an anguished cry, raised his booted foot and kicked the door. It crashed inward, rebounding off the wall and jolting his shoulder as he strode into the room.

Violet, eyes so wide they looked like tiny red-gold dots in a sea of white, rose from her chair by the fireplace clutching her chest, still covered by the fabric of her bedraggled purple dress, thank God.

“Violet, are you all right?” He strode into the room, hands outstretched.

A blur of movement to his right and the tip of a rapier pricked his chest.

“What the devil?” Tris danced backward, sweeping his cloak aside and drawing his own weapon to meet the unknown threat.

“You may retire, my lord.” His tall, solidly built opponent stood directly in front of Violet, shielding her from sight. “You have no business with this woman.” The man raised his sword into the high en garde of the second position. “I’ll thank you to leave us.” His face remained in shadow, however his rich voice had a familiar ring.

“The devil I will.” Tris countered by lowering his arm into the fourth position, tearing at the strings of his cloak and tossing it aside. He squinted in the poor firelight, still trying to make out the identity of the stranger. “The lady is under my protection.”

“I am not!” Violet’s voice rang out. “He has nothing to do with me anymore.”

The denial cut like a dagger to Tris’s heart.

“I am afraid the lady is correct, my lord.” The shadowy figure rotated his hand, the blade twisting inches from Tris’s face. “It’s Lord Trevor, is it not?”

“Who the deuce are you?”

“I beg your pardon.” The man lowered his weapon. “Lord Manning at your service.”

“Manning? Good God.” Breathing a sigh of relief, Tris sheathed his sword.

The Earl of Manning took a step into the light, revealing the dark hair and chiseled features of Duncan’s brother-in-law. Thank goodness the scandal would go no further. “What are you doing here?”

The young man’s face darkened. Was he actually blushing?

Heat rose in Tristan’s as well. Damn it, he had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Hrmph.” Manning cleared his throat and glanced at Violet who had come from behind him, glaring at Tris. “No need to go into reasons for my presence tonight. Suffice it to say I have rescued a damsel in distress.”

The sight of her in that rumpled purple dress—the one she’d been wearing when he met her—almost undid him. He wanted nothing so much as to enfold her in his arms, feel her heart beat against his chest, and never let go. His own heart thundered like a sudden storm that drenched his body in cold sweat even as his mouth dried to dust. Damn it, what could he do? He blew out an explosive breath. Stop staring at her for a start.

Violet raised her chin and met his gaze. Her piercing eyes and stubborn jaw made his stomach clench.