Her Reluctant Viscount (Rakes and Rogues) (20 page)

He hated hearing what she had just said. She could not have no feelings for him.
She is upset because of Arabella.
Yes, that made sense. Jo did not stay mad long so she would be better soon. Feeling confident, he went in for some breakfast.

Arabella, true to form, rose around noon. He had already sent his posts and was on his way out the door when she came downstairs. Poised and perfectly coifed she glided as if her feet never touched the ground. A slight smile touched her lips.

“Good morning, my love.”

“It is afternoon, Arabella.”

She waved off his comment and stepped in front of him. Her touch on his chest was familiar and at the same time unwanted. The smell of her perfume cloying and the opposite of the pureness and freshness surrounding Jo.

He groaned mentally. He really needed to stop thinking about her.

“Where is your sister?”

“I have not seen her since this morning. She was out with George.”

She waved a hand as if they were unimportant. “He always has been odd. Where are you off to?”

“I was going to check on my horse.”

“Do it later. We have not spent much time together.”

He knew her persistence and so nodded, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. In silence, he suffered as she ate slowly. Had he really changed so much this flirtatious act Arabella put on became an annoyance as opposed to being tolerable?

The moment she was done, he made his excuse and left. A footman passed him and he stopped the young man.

“Have you seen Miss Wilkes?”

“In the library, my lord.”

“When did you see her there?”

“Just now, my lord. I delivered tea and sandwiches a moment ago.”

“Thank you.”

He strode off to find her. The door was shut and he pushed in. He had forgotten how big and nice this library was. Then, to be fair, other things had been on his mind when coming here. Jo sat in the window seat, surrounded by sunlight and books.

“Jo?”

“Is it time to leave?” she asked, her attention remaining on the items before her.

“No. What are you doing?”

“Reading.”

It was that quick. A single word and he had been dismissed. He shook his head, like he would leave that easy. So he moved closer. Staring at the items, he paused. Books on myth, lore, and legend, lay among floral and even a pamphlet on alchemy. There were also old newspaper clippings.

“And what exactly are you reading?”

She did not answer and he looked at her. Her gaze focused on a book of plants. Her fingers caressed the page lovingly. He turned it over and read the title,
The World’s Fauna by H. Adrys.
Her father. He could feel her pain at being separated from them.

“You will be home soon, Jo.”

“Do not promise such things.”

“Why not?” He slid a book over and sat near.

She shook her head and blew out a breath. “I am tired of being disappointed.”

“Who has disappointed you?”

“Stop it, Trystan. Just stop.”

He frowned at the sharpness in her tone. “What are you talking about?”

“I may be at your mercy right now while you search for this person for the singular fact I refuse to put
my
family in danger, but make no mistake that I am happy to be wasting time here because you wanted to spend time with your whore. So if you could just hurry up and get the itch resolved enough to focus on how we are to get me back home, I would be ever so grateful.”

The sharpness morphed into icy fury. It overflowed in her eyes and he was shocked at the words she had just uttered.

“I think we need to talk.”

“Oh, there you are, Trysty.”

He groaned at interruption. “What Arabella?” He watched Jo’s gaze as the rage segued into an indifferent and reserved stare. He realized then how she had managed to survive the viciousness of the
ton
without ever appearing affected by jabs and spitefulness.

“I want to go riding and I want you to accompany me.” She moved to his side. “Hello, Jo.”

Jo got to her feet and gave a curtsey. “Hello, Your Grace. Thank you for the use of your library.”

“My husband loved his books. I have no use for them so do with them what you will. Come Trysty.”

“Thank you, Your Grace.” Jo sat back on the cushion and turned back to the books.

“I have some things to attend to, Bella.”

Arabella glared at him. “I am beginning to think you are avoiding me, Trystan Wilkes.”

He swallowed his annoyance and pasted his tolerant smile on his face. “Tonight, I am all yours. I just have to take care of a few things first.”

Lust flared in her large eyes. “Until dinner then.” She walked to the door. “Oh, and Trysty, do reserve some energy for me.” Then she was gone, leaving him alone with Jo who was no longer watching her books but staring at him with more of that fury in her gaze.

Lord she was beautiful angry. He took a breath and held out a hand.

“I do not wish to hear it. I am here working hard to try and figure some of this out and you…well, it is obvious where you want to be. We leave tomorrow together, or I go on my own,
Trysty
.”

“Listen to me, Jo. I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable here.”

“Well I do. I am uncomfortable and pissed. I want to go home, Trystan. Just because you are having fun with your…” he glared at her, “…friend does not mean I am. I had friends I had to leave behind and a family. I want to go back. So do what you have to do and then we leave. Together or separate. But one way or another, I will not stay here past tomorrow.”

Tryst knew she had been pushed to her limit. Blowing out a breath, he nodded. “Very well.”

Her expression portrayed her disbelief and he hated the disappointment he felt at the knowledge. She was not supposed to doubt him. Anger, he could handle, but the doubt, that created a foul feeling in his stomach.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he spun on his heel and left. He did have things to figure out. Despite what Jo may think he had a reason to stop here and it was not for sex with Arabella. He had things stored here. Weapons, medical supplies, money, and clothing. Anything he could possibly want or need.

He grabbed a vial from his things and put it in his pocket. Then he sat down and stared at a map. He stared at where he planned to go. He had to lose the carriage. Or disguise the one they had.

He had a lot left to do before they left. Successful at avoiding Arabella until dinner he sat through it with her idle chatter. They retired to her sitting room after and she sat on her sofa like an enticing goddess of times past. Everything in place and the tops of her creamy breasts on display.

“Sit here by me, Trysty.”

He rose from his seat and headed to the sideboard where her spirits sat. “Jo and I will be departing tomorrow.”

“I wondered if you two were lovers, but my staff said you two never attempted any stolen liaisons.”

The fact she had spied on him did not shock him. She had been increasingly possessive lately and talked oft about returning to London. Still, he faced her, decanter in hand and a bored expression in place.

“I told you there was nothing there.”

“She is not your sister. Ward maybe?”

That would work. “Yes. I am sorry about the deception, brother and sister is easier to explain.” He shrugged. “Leaves out the need to ask why she is in my hands.” Oh, if only he could get her in his hands. He took a deep breath and reined his raging lust under control.

“A very good question. Why is she?”

A patient smile on his lips he turned back. “I knew her father when I was in the army.” With practiced ease, he added the contents of the vial to one of them. “A widower, he asked me to be in charge of her should anything untoward happen to him.”

He walked back gazing longing at her chest. “Not much else to tell.” He handed her a drink and smiled wickedly. “Out of respect for him I am trying to set a good example. Drink up and we can partake in other things.”

Lust flared in her eyes as she drank. “I am surprised you are not sleeping with her.”

Me, too.
He reached out and drug his knuckle over her breasts. “I like my women to have experience. And you, my little widow, have the perfect amount. Now drink up.”

§ § §

“Have you heard from Miss Adrys?”

The man before her intimidated her. Way more than she cared to admit.

“No,” Clara squeaked the response. Clearing her throat, she tried again. “No.”

“You will get word to me should you.”

She bristled at the arrogantly delivered statement. She slid her gaze to the left where it landed upon the large man standing mute in the corner of the room. Captain Royce Bottomley.

He fascinated her. The way he appeared so gruff and cold at one moment only to show her a totally different side the next. He had kept her safe all the way back to London. No one bothered her. All it took was one of those glares from Royce and they treated her as if she were royalty.

“What possible reason could you have to smile?”

She jerked her attention from Royce and returned it to Jack. Had she been smiling?

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“She is in danger, surely the good captain told you this.”

“Yes. And as I told him, if I knew what you wanted, I still would not tell you.”

His expression showed his irritation. “What would it take to have you share if she contacts you?”

“You want to pay me?”

“Want? No. I would rather blackmail you, however, Captain Bottomley warned me it would do no good to do such a thing.”

She looked at Royce again, her heart sped up at the recollection of how he had protected her. Shaking her head, she rose to her feet. “You have nothing I want.”

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Jack crossed his arms. “We
will
be in touch, Miss Field.”

Why did that sound like a threat?

At the door, Royce appeared at her side and held the door for her before following.

“You should not push him.”

“I cannot divulge that which I do not know.”

“You have not heard from her?”

“You sound amazed. Do not think I would tell you had I. But no, I have not.” She was worried. A bit of information she would keep to herself.

“Some men are not good to have as an adversary. I will not always be around to protect you, Clara.”

The sound of her first name on his lips created a heat in her belly. Sure, he had done it before but that had been after he claimed they were married. A few more flutters in her stomach. She stopped in the long, empty hall, and peered up at him.

“Protect me? Why do I need protection, Royce?”

His eyes burned in the light. “You get in trouble. It finds you.”

“You have me confused with Jo. I am quiet, a wallflower.”

He raked his gaze over her. Hungrily. She repressed her shiver. He had never looked at her that way before. So possessively. Lustful.

“You may act like it but you are neither.”

“Is this part of your strategy, to get me to tell you something about Jo? If it is, that was mean spirited.”

Anger bloomed in his eyes. “Is that what you think? That because I have only one arm I have to resort to lies to get a woman?” He used that one arm—that very strong arm—to haul her flush to him. “Do you feel me?”