Page 50 of Vanquishing the Viscount

“You want to escape me so soon after we’ve been reunited? Too, too cruel! I don’t know why I ever set my heart on you. I should find another, far more deserving.”

“Don’t tease me, Mr. Keane. I know very well you haven’t set your heart on me.”

“I’m mortally wounded! What if I were to say that I like you very much and that marriage is a distinct possibility? My good friend James has made it so much easier for us. My parents would never have accepted a governess as my wife, but the protégé of the Countess of Rossbury? Well, that is another matter entirely.”

Had he been drinking? She must tread carefully, lest she put him into one of his pets. “I’ve learned to take nothing you say seriously, sir. Your plan would fall apart, anyway. James wrote to your parents to tell them of my change of circumstances. They know I’m only here for the duration of the Season and could be back at Figheldene within the month. So, you see, I’ll surely become a lowly governess again.”

“I won’t hear of it. You must stay with the countess as long as you are able, and make what you can of it, for the Rossburys are rolling in funds. You might even be able to touch her for a contribution toward your dowry if you work on her in the right way.”

She almost gaped at him. How could he think her that venal? Her opinion of him sank another notch. “I don’t need a dowry,” she said. “I’m not expecting to marry.”

“Please, Emma, don’t be so severe. I’d hoped our reunion would be full of laughter and light, not a continual refusal on your part to recognize how important you are to me.”

“I’m sorry. As I said, you have me at a disadvantage. I really hadn’t expected to see you here.”

He had her at a decided disadvantage, in more ways than one. She’d no idea what part of Sydney Gardens he’d brought her to, and to call out would only cause a scene.

“If I were a jealous type of fellow, I might say you were in a pretty cozy position with my friend James. What am I to read into that? I should punish you for making me jealous.”

Ah, good. A small knot of revelers was approaching. Charles wouldn’t try anything in front of other people.

Would he?

“Please don’t see anything more than is the case. I was simply advising Viscount Tidworth that he must go and speak with Belinda Carslake and her fiancé, to show the world he’s not damaged by her refusal of him.”

Charles took Emma’s elbow and steered her onto a new path. “You must be very close friends with him,” he said, hurrying her along, “if you can talk to him about so personal a subject.”

“I wouldn’t say that. His mama sent me to speak to him about it.”

Lowering his voice, Charles said acerbically, “But the countess didn’t command you to cling to his arm, nor did she command her son to look at you with calf eyes.”

Emma gasped, flustered. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

Had James truly been looking at her like that? How could she have failed to notice? She had thought—particularly after that light kiss on her hair—he was thinking of her more as a sister than a lover.

She suddenly hoped she was mistaken.

“Ah! Her newfound status has given Miss Hibbert more backbone. I like it. Now, take some advice from me, my dear. You mustn’t give Tidworth a second thought. He’s far too dull for someone as lively as you. He won’t gamble, he doesn’t keep mistresses, and he never drinks too much. He just hides out in the country throwing charity balls, riding, and sparring with his punchbag. He may be my good friend, but I have to work hard to make him companionable.”

Charles had continued walking, leading her along a narrow garden path. Now they were hemmed in by darkness, and the air felt much cooler.

But enough was enough.

She broke away from him and looked around. “Where are we?” she demanded.

“In the grotto, and luckily for us, we’re alone. Which allows me to stake my prior claim to you.”

Seizing her about the waist, he spun her around and pressed his lips greedily over hers.

Dear lord, no! This was a public place. If anyone were to come upon them, the gossip would spread like wildfire. Word would get back to the countess, who’d throw her over. Emma would be irretrievably ruined, and her family would be abandoned by all their new friends.

Summoning up every ounce of strength she possessed, she tried to wriggle free. But Charles was too strong. His lips moved hungrily against hers until the painful pressure forced her to open her mouth. His tongue swept in, beating aside her resistance and claiming mastery. One of his hands was rooted painfully in her hair, while the other slid over her body, drawing her against him.

At the risk of enraging him, she kicked him in the shins with all her might, and he let go of her with a yelp.

“Mr. Charles, stop!” she snapped. “Or must I scream for help?”

“You won’t do that,” he panted. “You love the thrill that comes with the danger of discovery, just as much as I do.”