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“I told you that I enjoy a few drops in my tea sometimes,” she said defensively.
“And you know what I say to that.” He grinned. “Lose the tea.”
She led him to her sitting room. Purposefully leaving the door to her chambers open, she joined him by the small fire lit in the grate. She poured brandy into a rose-patterned teacup and handed it to him. Then she poured a little for herself.
“Thank you.” He took a sip.
She settled into a chair and he followed suit. “Tell me what you found out. Is Laxton back?”
“I didn’t reach the carriage we saw in Hyde Park in time to see if it was Laxton. I’ve been all over London searching for him. Some people thought they’d seen him, others swore he was still at his country estate. I didn’t receive positive confirmation until I visited his club and persuaded one of his mates to admit that he was back.”
“And how did you persuade him?” she asked, eyeing him for fresh bruises.
“No violence was necessary. All I had to do was buy him a whisky and he was happy to tell me everything he knew. Laxton is back and plotting something. He didn’t know quite what, but it had something to do with a proper young lady.”
“Blanche. Oh no! What will he do? I’m so afraid that she still loves him and might do something foolish.”
“We must be extremely vigilant. I made certain she was safe in her room when I arrived home just now, and I arranged for a guard at the door to the house, with a view of Blanche’s window, throughout the night.”
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow. I do think perhaps we should tell her the full extent of what he said about her. I only hinted at the depths of his disparagement, but she should know the truth.”
“I agree.”
“Blanche is such an intelligent woman. I honestly don’t think she would do anything foolish like run away with Laxton. She’s too controlled and pragmatic for that. She said she’d had enoughscandal for a lifetime and wanted your family to be free from public embarrassment in future. That’s why she’s advocating for Lady Winifred.”
“And we’re back on the subject of brides. Hand me that brandy bottle if you please.”
“West, you’re not taking this seriously.”
He placed his teacup on a table and rose to stand before the fire, so she couldn’t see his face.
She could, however, see his backside. And that was a very enjoyable view, indeed. When had he removed his coat?
She gulped the remainder of the brandy in her teacup.
She’d always felt that the fashion for men’s breeches was too tight, and not flattering to the average gentleman.
West was no average gentleman.
He was made for skintight breeches. They displayed his sculpted, well-defined buttocks, muscular thighs, and long legs to perfection.
Oh, Viola, she thought sadly.When will you learn to ignore the view?
“Do you want to know the real reason I object to Lady Winifred?” His voice held a challenge. He almost sounded angry, or some other strong emotion colored his words.
“I do. Because she’s the most unobjectionable woman in London. She’ll make the ideal duchess.”
“I’ll tell you what’s wrong with her.” He turned toward her, and the anguished look on his face nearly startled her into dropping her teacup. She set it down and folded her hands primly in her lap.
He advanced, his eyes dark and stormy, his blond hair aglow with firelight.
“She’s not you, Viola.” His gaze captured her, fixing her to the carpet. “She’s not you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous... I’m not right for—”
The rest of her protestation was swallowed by a kiss.
Chapter Twenty-Two
