The Viscount Who Loved Me (22 page)

“Maybe he had previous instructions that you would be ‘at home’ for me under any circumstances.”

She bristled. “I gave him no such instructions.”

“No,” Lord Bridgerton said with a chuckle, “I wouldn’t have thought so.”

“And I know Edwina didn’t.”

He smiled. “Perhaps your mother?”

Of course. “Mary,” she groaned, a world of accusation in the single word.

“You call her by her given name?” he asked politely.

She nodded. “She’s actually my stepmother. Although she’s really all I know. She married my father when I was but three. I don’t know why I still call her Mary.” She gave her head a little shake as her shoulders lifted into a perplexed shrug. “I just do.”

His brown eyes remained fixed on her face, and she realized she’d just let this man—her nemesis, really—into a small corner of her life. She felt the words “I’m sorry” bubbling on her tongue—a reflexive reaction, she supposed, for having spoken too freely. But she didn’t want to apologize to this man for anything, so instead she just said, “Edwina is out, I’m afraid, so your visit was for nothing.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” he replied. He grasped
the bouquet of flowers—which had been tucked under his right arm—with his other hand, and as he brought it forward Kate saw that it was not one massive bouquet, but three smaller ones.

“This,” he said, putting one of the bouquets down on a side table, “is for Edwina. And this”—he did the same with the second—“is for your mother.”

He was left with a single bouquet. Kate stood frozen with shock, unable to take her eyes off the perfect pink blooms. She knew what he had to be about, that the only reason he’d included her in the gesture was to impress Edwina, but blast it, no one had ever brought her flowers before, and she hadn’t known until that very moment how badly she’d wanted someone to do so.

“These,” he said finally, holding out the final arrangement of pink roses, “are for you.”

“Thank you,” she said hesitantly, taking them into her arms. “They’re lovely.” She leaned down to sniff them, sighing with pleasure at the thick scent. Glancing back up, she added, “It was very thoughtful of you to think of Mary and me.”

He nodded graciously. “It was my pleasure. I must confess, a suitor for my sister’s hand once did the same for my mother, and I don’t believe I’ve ever seen her more delighted.”

“Your mother or your sister?”

He smiled at her pert question. “Both.”

“And what happened to this suitor?” Kate asked.

Anthony’s grin turned devilish in the extreme. “He married my sister.”

“HmmPh. Don’t think history is likely to repeat itself. But—” Kate coughed, not particularly wanting to be honest with him but quite incapable of doing anything otherwise. “But the flowers are truly lovely, and—and it was a lovely gesture on your part.” She swallowed. This wasn’t easy for her. “And I do appreciate them.”

He leaned forward slightly, his dark eyes positively melting. “A kind sentence,” he mused. “And directed at me, no less. There now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

Kate went from bending lovingly over the flowers to standing uncomfortably straight in an instant. “You do seem to have a knack for saying the
exact
wrong thing.”

“Only where you’re concerned, my dear Miss Sheffield. Other women, I assure you, hang on my every word.”

“So I’ve read,” she muttered.

His eyes lit up. “Is that where you’ve developed your opinions of me? Of course! The estimable Lady Whistledown. I should have known. Lud, I’d like to strangle the woman.”

“I find her rather intelligent and quite on the mark,” Kate said primly.

“You would,” he returned.

“Lord Bridgerton,” Kate ground out, “I’m sure you did not come calling to insult me. May I leave a message for Edwina for you?”

“I think not. I don’t particularly trust that it would reach her unadulterated.”

That was really too much. “I would
never
stoop to interfering with another person’s correspondence,” Kate somehow managed to say. Her entire body was shaking with rage, and if she’d been a less controlled sort of woman, her hands would surely have been wrapped around his throat. “How dare you imply otherwise.”

“When all is said and done, Miss Sheffield,” he said with annoying calmness, “I really don’t know you very well. What I do know consists of your fervent avowals that I will never find myself within ten feet of your sister’s saintly presence. You tell me, would
you
feel confident to leave a note if you were me?”

“If you are attempting to gain my sister’s favor through me,” Kate replied icily, “you are not doing a very good job of it.”

“I’m aware of that,” he said. “I really shouldn’t provoke
you. It’s not very well done of me, is it? But I’m afraid I just can’t help myself.” He grinned roguishly and held up his hands in a helpless manner. “What can I say? You do something to me, Miss Sheffield.”

His smile, Kate realized with dismay, was truly a force to be reckoned with. She suddenly felt faint. A seat…yes, what she needed to do was sit down. “Please, have a seat,” she said, waving at the blue damask sofa as she scrambled across the room to a chair. She didn’t particularly want him to linger, but she couldn’t very well sit without offering him a seat as well, and her legs were starting to feel
awfully
wobbly.

If the viscount thought oddly of her sudden burst of politeness, he did not say anything. Instead he removed a long black case off the sofa and placed it on a table, then sat down in its place. “Is that a musical instrument?” he queried, motioning to the case.

Kate nodded. “A flute.”

“Do you play?”

She shook her head, then cocked her head slightly and nodded. “I’m trying to learn. I took it up just this year.”

He nodded in reply, and that, apparently, was to be the end of the subject, because he then politely asked, “When do you expect Edwina to return?”

“Not for at least an hour, I should think. Mr. Berbrooke took her out for a ride in his curricle.”

“Nigel Berbrooke?” He practically choked on the name.

“Yes, why?”

“The man has more hair than wit. A great deal more.”

“But he’s going bald,” she couldn’t resist pointing out.

He grimaced. “And if that doesn’t prove my point, I don’t know what will.”

Kate had reached much the same conclusion about Mr. Berbrooke’s intelligence (or lack thereof), but she said, “Isn’t it considered bad form to insult one’s fellow suitors?”

Anthony let out a little snort. “It wasn’t an insult. It was the truth. He courted my sister last year. Or tried to. Daphne did her best to discourage him. He’s a nice enough fellow, I’ll grant you that, but not someone you’d want building you a boat were you stranded on a desert island.”

Kate had a strange and unwelcome image of the viscount stranded on a desert island, clothes in tatters, skin kissed by the sun. It left her feeling uncomfortably warm.

Anthony cocked his head, regarding her with a quizzical gaze. “I say, Miss Sheffield, are you feeling all right?”

“Fine!” she practically barked. “Never better. You were saying?”

“You look a bit flushed.” He leaned in, watching her closely. She really didn’t look well.

Kate fanned herself. “It’s a bit hot in here, don’t you think?”

Anthony shook his head slowly. “Not at all.”

She gazed longingly out the door. “I wonder where Mary is.”

“Are you expecting her?”

“It’s unlike her to leave me unchaperoned for so long,” she explained.

Unchaperoned? The ramifications were frightening. Anthony had a sudden vision of being trapped into marriage with Miss Sheffield the elder, and it made him break out in a cold sweat. Kate was so unlike any debutante he’d ever met that he’d quite forgotten that they even needed a chaperone. “Perhaps she’s not aware I’m here,” he said quickly.

“Yes, that must be it.” She sprang to her feet and crossed the room to the bellpull. Giving it a firm yank, she said, “I’ll just ring for someone to alert her. I’m sure she won’t want to miss you.”

“Good. Perhaps she can keep us company while we wait for your sister to return.”

Kate froze halfway back to her chair. “You’re planning to wait for Edwina?”

He shrugged, enjoying her discomfort. “I have no other plans for the afternoon.”

“But she might be hours!”

“An hour at most, I’m sure, and besides—” He cut himself off, noting the arrival of a maid in the doorway.

“You rang, miss?” the maid queried.

“Yes, thank you, Annie,” Kate replied. “Would you please inform Mrs. Sheffield that we have a guest?”

The maid bobbed a curtsy and departed.

“I’m sure Mary will be down at any moment,” Kate said, quite unable to stop tapping her foot. “Any minute now. I’m sure of it.”

He just smiled in that annoying manner, looking terribly relaxed and comfortable on the sofa.

An awkward silence fell across the room. Kate offered him a tight smile. He just raised a brow in return.

“I’m sure she’ll be here—”

“Any minute now,” he finished for her, sounding heartily amused.

She sank back into her chair, trying not to grimace. She probably didn’t succeed.

Just then a small commotion broke out in the hall—a few decidedly canine barks, followed by a high-pitched shriek of, “Newton! Newton! Stop that at once!”

“Newton?” the viscount queried.

“My dog,” Kate explained, sighing as she rose to her feet. “He doesn’t—”

“NEWTON!”

“—get along with Mary very well, I’m afraid.” Kate moved to the door. “Mary? Mary?”

Anthony rose when Kate did, wincing as the dog let out three more earsplitting barks, which were immediately followed by another terrified shriek from Mary. “What is he,” he muttered, “a mastiff?” It had to be a mastiff. Miss
Sheffield the elder seemed exactly the sort to keep a man-eating mastiff at her beck and call.

“No,” Kate said, rushing out into the hall as Mary let out another shriek. “He’s a—”

But Anthony missed her words. It didn’t matter much, anyway, because one second later, in trotted the most benign-looking corgi he’d ever seen, with thick caramel-colored fur and a belly that almost dragged on the ground.

Anthony froze with surprise.
This
was the fearsome creature from the hall? “Good day, dog,” he said firmly.

The dog stopped in its tracks, sat right down, and…

Smiled?

K
ate stumbled back into the drawing room, knocking arms with Mary as they both squeezed through the doorway at the same time. Newton was seated happily in the middle of the room, shedding on the blue-and-white rug as he grinned up at the viscount.

“I think he likes you,” Mary said, somewhat accusingly.

“He likes you, too, Mary,” Kate said. “The problem is that
you
don’t like
him
.”

“I’d like him better if he didn’t try to accost me every time I come through the hall.”

“I thought you said Mrs. Sheffield and the dog didn’t get along,” Lord Bridgerton said.

“They don’t,” Kate replied. “Well, they do. Well, they don’t
and
they do.”

“That clears things up immeasurably,” he murmured.

Kate ignored his quiet sarcasm. “Newton adores Mary,” she explained, “but Mary doesn’t adore Newton.”

“I’d adore him a bit more,” Mary interrupted, “if he’d adore me a bit less.”

“
So
,” Kate continued determinedly, “poor Newton regards Mary as something of a challenge. So when he sees her…” She shrugged helplessly. “Well, I’m afraid he simply adores her
more
.”

As if on cue, the dog caught sight of Mary and bounded straight over to her feet.

“Kate!” Mary exclaimed.

Kate rushed to her stepmother’s side, just as Newton rose on his hind legs and planted his front paws just above Mary’s knees. “Newton, down!” she scolded. “Bad dog. Bad dog.”

The dog sat back down with a little whine.

“Kate,” Mary said in an extremely no-nonsense voice, “that dog
must
be taken for a walk. Now.”

“I had been planning to when the viscount arrived,” Kate replied, motioning to the man across the room. Really, it was remarkable the number of things she could blame on the insufferable man if she put her mind to it.

“Oh!” Mary yelped. “I beg your pardon, my lord. How rude of me not to greet you.”

“It is of no concern,” he said smoothly. “You were a bit preoccupied upon your arrival.”

“Yes,” Mary grumbled, “that beastly dog…. Oh, but where are my manners? May we offer you tea? Something to eat? It is so kind of you to call upon us.”

“No, thank you. I’ve just been enjoying your daughter’s invigorating company while I await Miss Edwina’s arrival.”

“Ah, yes,” Mary answered. “Edwina’s off with Mr. Berbrooke, I believe. Isn’t that so, Kate?”

Kate nodded stonily, not sure she liked being called “invigorating.”

“Do you know Mr. Berbrooke, Lord Bridgerton?” Mary asked.

“Ah, yes,” he said, with what Kate thought was fairly surprising reticence. “Yes, I do.”

“I wasn’t sure if I should have allowed Edwina to go off with him for a ride. Those curricles are terribly difficult to drive, aren’t they?”

“I believe that Mr. Berbrooke has a steady hand with his horses,” Anthony replied.

“Oh, good,” Mary replied, letting out a much-relieved sigh. “You have surely set my mind at rest.”

Newton let out a staccato bark, simply to remind everyone of his presence.

“I had better find his lead and take him for a walk,” Kate said hurriedly. She certainly could use a bit of fresh air. And it would be nice to finally escape the viscount’s fiendish company. “If you’ll excuse me…”

“But wait, Kate!” Mary called out. “You cannot leave Lord Bridgerton here with me. I’m sure I’ll bore him to tears.”

Kate slowly turned around, dreading Mary’s next words.

“You could never bore me, Mrs. Sheffield,” the viscount said, debonair rake that he was.

“Oh, but I could,” she assured him. “You’ve never been trapped in conversation with me for an hour. Which is about how long it will be before Edwina returns.”

Kate stared at her stepmother, her jaw actually hanging open with shock. What on earth did Mary think she was doing?

“Why don’t you go with Kate to take Newton for a walk?” Mary suggested.

“Oh, but I could never ask Lord Bridgerton to accompany me on a
chore
,” Kate said quickly. “It would be beyond rudeness, and after all, he is our esteemed guest.”

“Don’t be silly,” Mary answered, before the viscount could get even half of a word in. “I’m sure he wouldn’t look upon it as a chore. Would you, my lord?”

“Of course not,” he murmured, looking utterly sincere. But really, what else could he say?

“There. That settles it,” Mary said, sounding inordinately pleased with herself. “And who knows? You may stumble across Edwina in your travels. Wouldn’t that be convenient?”

“Indeed,” Kate said under her breath. It would be lovely to be rid of the viscount, but the last thing she wanted to do was deliver Edwina into his clutches. Her sister was still young and impressionable. What if she couldn’t resist one of his smiles? Or his glib tongue?

Even Kate was willing to admit that Lord Bridgerton exuded considerable charm, and she didn’t even like the man! Edwina, with her less suspicious nature, would surely be overwhelmed.

She turned to the viscount. “You shouldn’t feel you must accompany me while I walk Newton, my lord.”

“I’d be delighted,” he said with a wicked smile, and Kate had the distinct impression he was agreeing to go for the sole purpose of vexing her. “Besides,” he continued, “as your mother said, we might see Edwina, and wouldn’t that be a delightful coincidence?”

“Delightful,” Kate returned flatly. “Just delightful.”

“Excellent!” Mary said, clapping her hands together with joy. “I saw Newton’s lead on the hall table. Here, I’ll go and get it for you.”

Anthony watched Mary leave, then turned to Kate and said, “That was very neatly done.”

“I’ll say,” Kate muttered.

“Do you suppose,” he whispered, leaning toward her, “that her matchmaking is directed toward Edwina or you?”

“Me?” Kate all but croaked. “Surely you jest.”

Anthony rubbed his chin thoughtfully, gazing at the doorway through which Mary had just exited. “I’m not certain,” he mused, “but—” He closed his mouth upon hearing Mary’s footsteps drawing back near.

“Here you are,” Mary said, holding the lead out to Kate. Newton barked enthusiastically and drew back as if preparing to lunge at Mary—undoubtedly to shower her with all sorts of unpalatable love—but Kate kept a firm hold on his collar.

“Here,” Mary quickly amended, handing the lead instead to Anthony. “Why don’t you give this to Kate? I’d rather not get too close.”

Newton barked and gazed longingly at Mary, who inched farther away.

“You,” Anthony said forcefully to the dog. “Sit down and be quiet.”

Much to Kate’s surprise, Newton obeyed, settling his plump bottom onto the rug with almost comical alacrity.

“There,” Anthony said, sounding rather pleased with himself. He held out the lead toward Kate. “Shall you do the honors or shall I?”

“Oh, go right ahead,” she replied. “You seem to have such an affinity for canines.”

“Clearly,” he shot back, keeping his voice low so that Mary could not hear, “they are not so very different from women. Both breeds hang on my every word.”

Kate stepped on his hand as he knelt to fasten the lead to Newton’s collar. “Oops,” she said, rather insincerely. “I’m so sorry.”

“Your tender solicitude quite unmans me,” he returned, standing back up. “I might break into tears.”

Mary’s head bobbed back and forth between Kate and Anthony. She couldn’t hear what they were saying but was clearly fascinated. “Is something wrong?” she queried.

“Not at all,” Anthony replied, just as Kate gave a firm, “No.”

“Good,” Mary said briskly. “Then I’ll see you to the door.” At Newton’s enthusiastic bark, she added, “Then again, maybe not. I don’t really want to get within ten feet of that dog. But I’ll wave you off.”

“What would I do,” Kate said to Mary as she passed her, “without you to wave me off?”

Mary smiled slyly. “I surely don’t know, Kate. I surely don’t know.”

Which left Kate with a queasy feeling in her stomach and a vague suspicion that Lord Bridgerton might have been correct. Maybe Mary was playing matchmaker with more than just Edwina this time around.

It was a horrifying thought.

With Mary standing in the hall, Kate and Anthony exited out the doorway and headed west on Milner Street. “I usually stay to the smaller streets and make my way up to Brompton Road,” Kate explained, thinking that he might not be very familiar with this area of town, “then take that to Hyde Park. But we can walk straight up Sloane Street, if you prefer.”

“Whatever you wish,” he demurred. “I shall follow your direction.”

“Very well,” Kate replied, marching determinedly up Milner Street toward Lenox Gardens. Maybe if she kept her eyes ahead of her and moved briskly, he’d be discouraged from conversation. Her daily walks with Newton were supposed to be her time for personal reflection. She did not appreciate having to drag him along.

Her strategy worked quite well for several minutes. They walked in silence all the way to the corner of Hans Crescent and Brompton Road, and then he quite suddenly said, “My brother played us for fools last night.”

That stopped her in her tracks. “I beg your pardon?”

“Do you know what he told me about you before he introduced us?”

Kate stumbled a step before shaking her head, no. Newton hadn’t stopped in
his
tracks, and he was tugging on the lead like mad.

“He told me you couldn’t say enough about me.”

“Wellll,” Kate stalled, “if one doesn’t want to put too fine a point on it, that’s not entirely untrue.”

“He implied,” Anthony added, “that you could not say enough
good
about me.”

She shouldn’t have smiled. “
That’s
not true.”

He probably shouldn’t have smiled, either, but Kate was glad he did. “I didn’t think so,” he replied.

They turned up Brompton Road toward Knightsbridge and Hyde Park, and Kate asked, “Why would he do such a thing?”

Anthony shot her a sideways look. “You don’t have a brother, do you?”

“No, just Edwina, I’m afraid, and she’s decidedly female.”

“He did it,” Anthony explained, “purely to torture me.”

“A noble pursuit,” Kate said under her breath.

“I heard that.”

“I rather thought you would,” she added.

“And I expect,” he continued, “that he wanted to torture you as well.”

“Me?” she exclaimed. “Whyever? What could I possibly have done to him?”

“You might have provoked him ever so slightly by denigrating his beloved brother,” he suggested.

Her brows arched. “Beloved?”

“Much-admired?” he tried.

She shook her head. “That one doesn’t wash, either.”

Anthony grinned. Miss Sheffield the elder, for all her annoyingly managing ways, did have an admirable wit. They’d reached Knightsbridge, so he took her arm as they crossed over the thoroughfare and took one of the smaller pathways that led to South Carriage Road within Hyde Park. Newton, clearly a country dog at heart, picked up his pace considerably as they entered greener surroundings, although it would be difficult to imagine the portly canine moving with anything that might correctly be termed speed.

Still, the dog seemed rather jolly and certainly interested in every flower, small animal, or passerby that
crossed their path. The spring air was crisp, but the sun was warm, and the sky was a surprisingly clear blue after so many typical London days of rain. And while the woman on his arm was not the woman he planned to take to wife, nor, in fact, was she a woman he planned to take to anything, Anthony felt a rather easy sense of contentment wash over him.

“Shall we cross over to Rotten Row?” he asked Kate.

“Hmmm?” was her distracted reply. She had her face tipped up to the sun and was basking in its warmth. And for one extremely disconcerting moment, Anthony felt a sharp stab of…
something
.

Something? He gave his head a little shake. It couldn’t possibly be desire. Not for this woman.

“Did you say something?” she murmured.

He cleared his throat and took a deep breath, hoping it would clear his head. Instead, he simply got an intoxicating whiff of her scent, which was an odd combination of exotic lilies and sensible soap. “You seem to be enjoying the sun,” he said.

She smiled, turning to face him with a clear-eyed gaze. “I know that’s not what you said, but yes, I am. It’s been so dreadfully rainy of late.”

“I thought young ladies were not supposed to let sun on their faces,” he teased.

She shrugged, looking only the slightest bit sheepish as she replied, “They’re not. That is to say, we’re not. But it does feel heavenly.” She let out a little sigh, and a look of longing crossed her face, so intense that Anthony almost ached for her. “I do wish I could remove my bonnet,” she said wistfully.

Anthony nodded his agreement, feeling much the same way about his hat. “You could probably push it back just a bit without anyone noticing,” he suggested.

“Do you think?” Her entire face lit up at the prospect, and that strange stab of
something
pierced his gut again.

“Of course,” he murmured, reaching up to adjust the
rim of the bonnet. It was one of those bizarre confections women seemed to favor, all ribbons and lace, and tied in such a way that no reasonable man could ever make sense of it. “Here, just hold still for a moment. I’ll fix it.”

Kate held still, just as he’d gently ordered, but when his fingers accidentally brushed the skin on her temple she stopped breathing as well. He was so very close, and there was something very odd about it. She could feel the heat of his body, and smell the clean, soapy scent of him.