Vexing the Viscount (7 page)

She took her place across from Mr. Tavers. He smiled at her as the country dance started. Tia concentrated on her steps while Mr. Tavers attempted to make conversation as they came together and then apart. She honestly had no idea what he was trying to say. The steps were complicated and it took all her mind to focus on that. Unable to determine his conversation over the music and concentration, she only smiled up at him and nodded occasionally.

Finally, the music ended and he escorted her back to Emily. “I shall wait impatiently for our next dance, Miss Featherstone.”

As he walked away, Emily giggled and said, “You made quite the impression. Did you really promise him a second dance?”

“I have no idea. I couldn't hear a word he was saying.”

Emily laughed. “Oh, Tia. Just remember no more than two dances.”

“You have drummed that into my head all week.” She looked across the room and noticed a man with dark hair paused at the door. For a quick moment, the figure in mostly black reminded her of Middleton.

“Come along, Tia,” Emily said, pulling Tia out of her musing. “We should get some more refreshments.

They walked toward the dining room where the table and sideboard was lined with food. “Emily, would Middleton attend a party such as this?”

Emily gave a nervous laugh. “I highly doubt it. This party is far too tame for a man like Middleton.”

“Whatever do you mean?” Tia asked as she picked up a stuffed mushroom and added it to her plate.

“He always ran with a fast crowd.”

“What do you mean?” She ignored Emily's look of disdain and grabbed a glass of wine from a passing footman. She sipped the wine slowly, savoring the fruity taste as it warmed its way down her belly.

“Middleton prefers the loose women and gambling hells to a sedate party like this. Besides, you must know that many people believe he had something to do with the death of the former viscount and his heir.”

“That cannot be true. I heard both deaths were accidental.”

“I'm afraid that is what the gossips are saying about him. It has damaged his reputation—not that it was sterling before the rumors.”

Tia had heard the rumors of his rakish ways from the servants at Middleton Hall, but she couldn't imagine him committing murder to become the viscount. She must have imagined seeing him in the hall. She took another sip of wine and strolled back to the ballroom. Not wanting to draw attention to herself, she slipped behind a large plant for a moment of peace.

“Did you see Miss Bingham?” a woman said to another woman on the other side of the plant.

“That gown is hideous on her,” replied another. “What was she thinking wearing pink at her age?”

“She is almost three and twenty!”

“And firmly on the shelf.”

One of the women laughed coarsely. “No man will have her now.”

“I also heard she had been seen kissing Lord Ranston in the library of Lady Somerfield's home.”

“But Lord Ranston is a married man!”

“Exactly.”

Tia strolled away, shaking her head. Staring at all the people dancing, she briefly wondered why anyone wanted to be a part of this. The people were gossipy wasps who only seemed to want to sting each other. A part of her missed her quiet life on Middleton's estate. The only time people gossiped was to let her know that they had heard someone might be ill and was not calling for her.

With a sigh, she took another sip of wine. Melancholy struck a chord deep inside her. She could return to the estate, but then she might never find Jonathon and try to help him. Then again, she'd been in London for over a month and hadn't caught even a glimpse of the man. During all the upheaval of the past week, she'd almost forgotten her true mission.

“There you are,” Emily said with a smile and a short man behind her. “Lord Upton wanted to meet you.”

Of course he did. And what would Lord Upton think if he knew he was dancing with a nobody from the Midlands with no name, no fortune, and nothing to offer him? “Good evening, my lord.”

“We must hurry if we are to make the dance. The couples are lining up already.”

It wasn't until she reached the dance floor that she realized he hadn't even asked her, he'd just assumed she would be eternally grateful to dance with him because he was a lord. As they clasped hands to circle around each other, Tia thanked God the man wore gloves. Even through the cotton cloth, she could feel the sweat from his palms. If this was what all the ladies of the Beau Monde put up with, no wonder so many decided to stay spinsters.

She danced the steps of the contra dance with ease, since it was the first and therefore the most practiced of the dances Mr. Blackwell had taught her.

“You look quite fetching tonight, my dear,” Lord Upton commented.

“Thank you.”

“I believe I should call on Lady Eldridge tomorrow. I do hope you shall be at home.”

What was she supposed to say to that?
Don't bother? I have no interest?
She had no idea. “I believe I shall be at home,” she said and then wanted to glue her lips shut for saying such an insipid thing. She should have been blunt with him.

“Excellent.”

Until he mentioned it, she hadn't thought about the fact that men might attempt to call on her at Emily's home. Some might even suggest a ride through the park. There had to be a way to stop this.

As she circled around him, she had the strangest sensation of being watched. She scanned the room as she twirled around. One set of blue eyes fixed on her. Even from this distance she knew his eyes were blue. Icy cold blue.

Her heart raced in her chest as the dance ended. Lord Upton escorted her back to Emily, chattering on about seeing her tomorrow. She could only nod as she attempted to find an escape route away from Middleton. Glancing back, she realized she'd lost his position.

“Emily, I must leave,” she said, trying to interrupt her friend from a conversation with another woman.

“Not now, Tia.”

“Yes, now.” Before it was too late. Unable to wait a second longer, she headed for the hall. If she could get out of the house before he noticed, she might make it. But make it where? If he'd seen her with Emily, then she couldn't return to her friend's home. Where would she go?

Only a few steps before the threshold, a strong hand clasped onto her arm. Without looking, she knew he'd caught her yet again.

“Going before we've even had a dance?”

B
raden turned Tia around to face him. Awareness shot through him with her close proximity. What the bloody hell was wrong with him that he could find his wise woman attractive? Scanning her, he noticed everything from her upswept red curls, down her long slender neck that begged for his lips, to the swell of her full breasts exposed from a pale blue silk gown, and further down her slender belly and curve of her hips. The real question was how had he
not
noticed her while at the estate.

“Well?”

“I—I was not feeling well and decided to leave,” she said in a shaky tone.

“Tsk-tsk, Miss Featherstone. A viscount wishes to dance with you and so we shall.”

Her mouth opened and closed slightly, as if getting ready to rebuke him, but no words managed to emanate forth. He had timed his appearance at her side perfectly as the musicians were to play a waltz next.

“I don't know how to dance this dance,” she muttered as they walked through the crowd.

“Indeed, and what are the musicians about to play?”

The confused look on her face almost made him laugh. She didn't have any idea of what was coming up next.

“I just haven't learned that many dances, is all,” she said.

“You did just fine with Lord Upton.” He stopped and stared down at her. “And why in God's name did you dance with that man?”

“I didn't seem to have any choice in the matter. We were introduced and then he was escorting me to the dance floor.” She glared up at him. “Not much different than you.”

He leaned and inhaled the sweet, intoxicating scent of jasmine. “Oh, but we were already introduced.” He turned and pulled her closer as the crowd tightened around them. Finally, space opened as they reached the dance floor.

“So what is the dance?” she asked.

He dragged her closer until their bodies almost touched. “The waltz.”

Her eyes widened. “Emily told me I could not dance the waltz until I am given approval by Lady Jersey.”

“We can't wait until next Season for approval.” Because nothing was going to stop him from dancing a waltz with her tonight. The music started and he led her with ease. “I do believe you lied to me.”

“Oh?”

“You most definitely know how to waltz.” He stared down at her brown eyes and felt mesmerized by the amber flecks, reminding him of a fine sherry. “And would this Emily be Lady Eldridge?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

Of all the women, she had to meet Emily. “Do tell me how a wise woman from the Midlands is suddenly befriended by a countess.”

“We met at the park the day . . .”

He smirked. “The day you left me?”

She frowned. “You make it sound almost scandalous.”

“Smile, my dear. We are the talk of the party.”

Her brown eyes widened. “No.” She quickly glanced around. “Why would one dance with you cause such talk?”

“Don't you know how notorious I am?”

“You're nothing more than a rake, like most of the men your age,” she retorted.

“Perhaps Lady Eldridge should have given you more information about the man you slept with.”

She stiffened. “I did not sleep with you.”

“That is not what every man and woman would think if they discovered you had stayed overnight in my home.”

“Servants stay in your home every night and no one accuses them of sleeping with you.” She tilted her chin, as if in her mind she had won that argument. “Even if they do.”

“I never sleep with the servants. Besides, servants don't comport themselves at parties and befriend countesses.” He scanned her body again. “And no one would think you are a servant after tonight.”

Her cheeks reddened slightly. “I'm not sure if I should thank you or slap you.”

“Both are options,” he said seductively. He leaned in and whispered, “But I get to tell you where you will slap me.”

“You go too far, Middleton.”

“Nowhere near far enough.”

Her lips gaped slightly. “I believe our dance is over.”

“Excellent,” he said, clasping her upper arm. “Then we can leave now.”

She stopped on the dance floor. “I am not leaving with you.”

“Yes, you are.”

“You cannot force me,” Tia said in an overly confident tone.

The poor woman had no idea just what he could do. Without a second thought, he brought her up against his body and leaned down to kiss her. She struggled against him, but it was no use. Braden was stronger and that short kiss did exactly what he'd intended.

“How dare you!”

The pain in his cheek faded almost as quickly as her hand moved away. “You are coming home with me.”

“I will be ruined.”

“You already are,” he said coldly. “The servants will talk with other servants as soon as they hear you attended this ball. Word of your stay at my house will be all over London in less than a week.”

Her hand covered her mouth as tears filled her eyes.

“Tia, what is going on?” Lady Eldridge said, arriving far too late to help.

“Lady Eldridge, Miss Featherstone will be leaving your home tonight,” he said softly so no one else would overhear them. “She belongs back in the Midlands.”

“She has no place to go.” Lady Eldridge turned to face him. “How dare you humiliate her like this!”

“I will do whatever I please. She is my wise woman and is returning home.”

“No—”

“Emily, it's all right,” Tia said in a resigned tone. “I don't belong here.”

Lady Eldridge looked at Tia. “If you go with him you will be ruined.”

“I already am,” she said, glancing around the room. “Look at the disaster I made.”

“He made it, not you.”

“Come along, Miss Featherstone.” Braden held out his arm for her. He should feel remorse for his actions tonight, and yet, he refused to allow those emotions in. Her own mother had sent him on this mission and he had finished the job tonight and would see her off in the morning.

She ignored his arm and marched out of the room before he could take a step. He started forward, only to be stopped by Lady Eldridge.

“This is not how I intended the night to go.”

“Good evening, Lady Eldridge.” What the bloody hell had she meant by that? He strolled out of the room, but suddenly looked back at her. People crowded around her asking her all sorts of questions. She smiled at them all and whatever she'd said seemed to quiet them down.

She had sent the note.

She had wanted him to find Tia here.

Why?

He continued out of the room to find Tia standing in the front hall as a footman handed her shawl to her. She walked outside before he had reached the entrance. “Miss Featherstone, it may take a few moments for my carriage to be brought around. You might wish to wait inside.”

“No.”

Braden took the shawl from her hands and wrapped it around her shoulders. “There. It's getting chilly tonight. You would be more comfortable inside.”

“You ruined me. Deliberately. I could never set foot in a home like that again.”

He laughed. “How little you know, Miss Featherstone. All it takes is marriage to the right man and they will beg you to come back. It would be as if nothing ever happened.”

“It matters not. You will force me back to the Midlands where I will live a dull life of healing the sick and never finding . . .”

“Never finding what?” He was genuinely curious about what she wanted out of life.

“Love,” she whispered, then brushed a tear aside.

Damn. Guilt spread over him like honey, sticking to him and making him unclean. He had set out to ruin her, knowing it was the only way to make her return. It was far from the worst thing he'd ever done, and yet, he did feel dreadful. “I am sorry.”

She laughed in a coarse tone so unlike her. “I highly doubt that. You got what you wanted.”

The carriage pulled up in front of the house. Braden escorted her to the coach. After assisting her, he jumped in and took the seat across from her. A part of him wanted to talk with her and another knew it was no use. Nothing he could say would make her feel better tonight.

Tomorrow he would tell her about her sister. If he told her now, she would demand they leave immediately and that wasn't the safest course of action. It could wait until tomorrow.

Tension filled the carriage on the short ride home. He wondered if she planned to resume their argument once they reached the house. They rolled to a stop. The coach door opened and Braden scrambled down. He held out his hand to assist Tia. She took it only long enough to reach the ground, and then pulled away as if she'd been burned.

She strode in the house and straight to his study.

“Good evening, my lord,” Nelson said, taking Braden's hat. “It appears Miss Featherstone has returned. Shall I have the same bedroom made up for her?”

“Yes. Thank you, Nelson.”

“Of course, my lord.”

“It might get loud in the study. She was not particularly happy to be found.” Braden shot his butler a grin. “Just ignore the noise and send the servants to bed once her room is made up. I will snuff the candles before I head up to bed.”

“Of course, my lord. Good luck.”

“I will need it.” Braden headed to the study, but then stopped at the threshold. Tia poured a glass of brandy and tossed it back like a sailor. Then she poured herself another. “Drinking like that won't solve your problem.”

She gulped down another and then turned to stare at him. “You're still standing there, so I suppose you are right.”

“I am not your problem, Tia.”

“Do you see any other person here trying to bring me back to a life I don't want?”

After pouring herself another, she sat down and sipped from her glass of brandy. Braden walked over to pour a snifter for himself. “The estate needs you. Your family needs you.”

She pointed to him as she shook her head. “Now, that's where you are wrong, my lord. My mother doesn't need me. She is the one who thought I should take over your estate alone, while my sister was able to stay and continue to learn from her.”

“Perhaps she felt you were ready to leave the nest.”

“Ha! She wanted me gone.” Tia took another sip of her brandy.

Braden collapsed into the chair across from her with a heavy sigh. He supposed he should be grateful she seemed to have moved away from his ruination of her. “If she wanted you gone so badly, why did she storm into my study and insist I run off to London and find you?”

She pressed her full lips together with a shake of her head. “I don't know. Perhaps it was a show to make you believe that she cared. Or maybe it was because she doesn't have time to take care of your tenants.”

“Tia, I know deep in your heart that you do not believe such nonsense. It's the brandy talking.”

“Hardly.” As if to prove him wrong, she took another long drink of the heady spirit. “Mia was her favorite. Always has been.”

“Is that why you left?” he asked softly. Perhaps her departure had nothing to do with Jonathon.

She rolled her eyes before finishing her drink. “No. It was all about your brother.” She cocked a reddish brow at him. Her eyes held a glossy spark, showing the effects of the brandy. “I love your brother, can't you see it? Isn't that the real reason you chased after me? To stop me from seducing him.” She rose, slightly unsteadily, and then poured herself another brandy before refilling his glass. A few drops landed on his breeches. “Of course,” she began again, “I would never be acceptable as his wife, therefore the only logical explanation of why I went after him was to become his lover, right?”

Braden usually found drunken women rather unappealing, but there was something about Tia's current state of drunkenness that was quite humorous and slightly endearing. “I believe you may have had enough to drink for the night, Tia.”

“When did I say you could call me by my given name? It's dreadfully scandalous, you know.” She took another sip and dropped back into her chair.

“You are going to have a horrible headache tomorrow.”

“Good,” she said with another sip. “With any luck, I will be retching all over you in the coach. Perhaps that would make you turn back for London.”

Braden tilted his head back and laughed. “Let us hope you have no luck, then. I would prefer to have a vomitless trip.”

She sipped the rest of her brandy. Rising slowly from her chair, she released the pins holding her glorious red curls. “Perhaps there might be another way to convince you to stay here for a few more days.”

The drunken seductress
. He had never met one he couldn't push away . . . but as his cock rose tight against his breeches, he doubted his willpower. She approached him slowly. He wondered just how far she would take her act.

“So tell me, Middleton, what would it take?”

“You tell me, Tia? How far would you be willing to go?”

Slowly, she stripped off her elbow-length white gloves. “As far as it takes.” She strained to reach the three buttons on the back of her gown.

“Would you like some assistance?” he asked with a half-grin. He was playing a dangerous game with a woman whose mind was hazed from alcohol, and yet he couldn't stop himself.

“ I have it.” She put her arms down and shook them out. She closed her eyes for a long moment before opening them with an overly bright smile. “I'm just a little dizzy.”

“Brandy will do that to you.”

She let the blue silk fall to the floor. “And what will you do for me?”

Bloody hell, the woman had a body made for a man's touch. Her full breasts pushed up from the stays. Her nipples were already straining against the white cotton of her shift.

“You're not moving,” she commented.