Vexing the Viscount (2 page)

Tia wondered who was hiding from a husband. There were two other women staying at the inn but Tia hadn't socialized with them. She had heard the woman in the room across from her say she was a widow. Perhaps she truly wasn't. It wasn't that uncommon for women to leave their husbands, especially if abuse was involved. Unfortunately, the husband had every legal right to drag her back to his home. Heavy footsteps drew near but she went back to the buttons on her dress.

“Unlock it,” the man demanded.

“Yes, my lord,” Mrs. Turner replied. “Shouldn't you at least knock?”

“Now.”

With a slight shrug, Tia slipped the last button through its hole and started to remove her gray muslin dress. As she bared one shoulder, the door to her room swung open. Tia gasped and she clutched the gaping dress at her breast. Shocked, she could only stare at the man in the doorway. His black attire was dirty as if he'd been riding for days. From the look of the growth of hair on his jaw, she realized he probably
had
ridden for days.

“You may leave us now, Mrs. Turner.”

“No, Mrs. Turner, you need to stay,” Tia replied as she stared at him. His icy blue eyes narrowed on her.

Mrs. Turner glanced between the two of them. She hesitated before saying, “Miss Featherstone, he swears you are his wife.”

“I am most certainly not his wife!”

“But it is your word to his,” she said. “The man is—”

“A bloody viscount. I know that,” Tia replied as she turned her gaze to him. “And do I look like a bloody viscountess?”

Mrs. Turner shrugged. “I—I—”

“Leave us,” he demanded, staring coldly at Mrs. Turner.

“Mrs. Turner,” Tia implored her. “He is lying.”

“Perhaps,” she whispered. “But I can't take the chance that he is speaking the truth. I could lose everything.” She eased out of the room, closing the door behind her.

Tia turned her fury on the smirking man leaning against the closed door. “What are you doing here, Middleton?”

He crossed his arms over his chest as his sneer turned into a frown. “Bringing my wise woman home.”

How dare this man attempt to bring her back to the estate as if he owned her! “I am done with that position.”

He tilted his head. “Indeed? I do not remember receiving a letter of resignation.”

“So you came all the way to London to get one?” She started to reach for a piece of paper before remembering her state of undress. She grabbed her bodice to keep it from falling.

“Is there a problem?” he asked with a slight grin.

His stare burned her skin as if he'd touched her. Ridiculous thought, she told herself. The man was only angry because she left without notifying him. Still, that wicked grin reminded her of his reputation with the ladies in London.

“If you want a letter of resignation, just give me a minute. Turn around.”

His gaze never wavered from hers. She'd never noticed just how light blue his eyes were until now, but they also held a coldness that she'd couldn't abide.

“Please turn around, my lord.”

“I didn't come all this way for a letter of resignation,” he remarked.

“Then why are you here?”

“As I said, for you.”

B
raden watched Tia's eyes widen. Good. He wanted her off-balance. He didn't want her to think about what he was doing until he had her in the carriage and on the road back to Middleton Hall.

“And I already told you I wasn't returning with you.”

There was a slight change in her demeanor that he couldn't comprehend. He had the strangest sensation that she was up to something. “Mrs. Turner already believes you are my wife. As such, it is within my right to put you over my shoulder and carry you out of this godforsaken place.”

“I wouldn't try that if I were you, my lord. I am a wise woman and therefore know all the delicate places on a man's body.” She raised a brow as her gaze slid down his body until reaching the junction of his legs.

Damn his body for reacting to such a practiced act. “Then you should also know that men are inherently stronger than women. So it's doubtful that you would succeed.”

She bit down on her lower lip, drawing his attention to her full lips. Slowly, she rose off the bed and let her hand drop from its job of keeping her dress closed. Her fiery hair curled down to the middle of her back. Braden waited for the seductress to come closer to him. He had no doubt that she was an accomplished flirt. No woman looked as she did without learning such alluring behavior.

But with each step closer, she buttoned her gown. Her brown eyes narrowed as she stared at him. “I am not returning to Middleton Hall,” she said deliberately. “Now, you can either accept that and leave or I will make your life miserable.”

“You are coming home, Miss Featherstone.” This had gone on long enough. As much as he didn't wish to embarrass her by dragging her over his shoulder, she'd given him no choice. He reached for her but she must have anticipated his lunge. She slipped around him and ran out the door. “Dammit, Tia, get back here.”

Did that slip of a girl think she could outrun him? He strode out the door to the corridor and stared. Hearing the front door slam, he raced down the stairs after her. Darkness had already fallen making it harder to spot her. That ugly gray dress didn't help matters. He walked up the street, glancing down each side street as he went. It only made sense that she would have turned as quickly as she could to get out of sight.

He shook his head when he reached the corner and saw her sitting on a step, examining her foot. Foolish girl had run off barefoot. When she noticed his approach, she quickly rose and hobbled down the street. He only had to walk fast to catch her.

He reached out and grabbed her waist, then heaved her over his shoulder. “You should have put on your boots before trying to outrun me.”

“Put me down or I'll scream!” She punched his lower back.

“Have you not realized where you are living, Miss Featherstone? Do you honestly think anyone is going to help you here?” He cursed as she punched him again, this time harder. “Stop.”

“You have to let me go.”

“Why?” he asked, but truly didn't care to hear her reason.

“I need to find Jonathon,” she whispered tearfully.

He hailed a hackney and dumped her inside before clamoring into the carriage. “Why?”

She scrambled into a seat and crossed her arms over her chest. “I need to see Jonathon.”

“I believe you said that,” he said impatiently. “But what you haven't said is why.”

“I cannot speak of such things to you,” she replied, staring out the window.

Braden tried to remain calm, but his patience had worn thin. “I am his brother and know more about him than most. You can confide in me.”

She shook her head. “It is most private, indeed, my lord. I am afraid I cannot confide in you.”

“Miss Featherstone,” he bit out. “Tell me.”

She turned her blazing brown eyes on him. “Have you always been this arrogant? Or was this a consequence of gaining the title?”

He smirked. “My attitude has nothing to do with my title. Now tell me what you need to say to Jonathon.”

Instead, she pressed her lips together and returned her gaze to the dark night.

Braden clenched his fists as anger fired deep within him. He was certain that he knew what she wanted to say to his brother, but he wanted to hear her say it. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and remained silent. Rather than continuing a fruitless conversation, he would wait until she was in a vulnerable position to get her to talk.

The silence stretched as the carriage rumbled toward his town home. A few times, he caught her slide a glance to him, but instead of acknowledging her, he remained quiet. It was far better to let her wonder what he was thinking. Keeping a woman off-guard was a time-honored secret of his.

Slowly, the carriage rolled to a stop in front of his home. He jumped down, paid the driver, and waited for Tia to disembark the carriage. “Are you coming?” he finally asked.

“No. I am returning to the inn. All my things are there.”

What had his mother always told him? Count to ten.
One. Ten
. “Out now!” He pulled her legs toward him until she fell off the seat. “I would have let you walk inside with your dignity intact, but now you'll suffer the embarrassment.”

“I can barely walk on my right foot anyway,” she retorted. “I need to get this piece of glass out.”

Braden blew out a breath. He'd completely forgotten that she'd hurt her foot. “I will carry you inside and to a guest room. Then I'll send Mrs. Abbott up to assist you with your foot.”

“I don't need assistance. I need my things from the inn and some water and brandy for my foot.”

“As you wish,” he said and then strode to the front door. Mr. Nelson opened the door for him. “Evening, Nelson. Please make up the blue room for Miss Featherstone. She will be staying with us tonight.”

Mr. Nelson glanced down to the step and then said, “I believe she needs some assistance, my lord.”

“Yes, but she doesn't want my help. Settle her in the blue room and ask Mrs. Abbott to see me.”

“Of course, my lord.”

Braden glanced back to verify she wasn't trying to run away again. Nelson rushed to assist Tia as she hopped up the steps. Stubborn girl. He wasn't about to throw her over his shoulder again. He paused after taking a step. He supposed he should have let her know that.

 

Tia grabbed the wrought-iron rail and pushed her weight on it to climb up the first stair. A man came running down the steps.

“Miss Featherstone, please let me assist you. My name is Mr. Nelson and I am the viscount's butler.” He held out his arm for her to put her weight on. “I have heard so many wonderful things about you and your mother.”

Tia looked at the man and realized he wasn't the one who had answered the door the two times she'd called on Jonathon. It must have been one of the footmen who had sent her away. “Thank you, Mr. Nelson.”

“Do you need a footman to carry you to your room?”

As much as she wanted that, she shook her head. “No, thank you, Mr. Nelson. I can walk.” Barely. But she would never let Middleton see her appear weak by needing help up the stairs.

Together they hobbled up the steps until they reached the entryway. She hadn't gotten this far when she'd knocked on the door. The cold white marble chilled her bare feet and up her body. Her right foot throbbed, which meant she most likely hadn't removed whatever she'd stepped on in her rush to get away from Middleton.

Taking a step forward, she realized her foot was still oozing blood. “Oh, drat! I've bled on this beautiful floor.”

“Not to worry, miss,” Nelson said with a kind smile. “Let us get you upstairs so someone can take care of that for you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nelson. I can manage binding my foot.”

“We shall put you in the blue room,” Mr. Nelson said as they hobbled up the marble staircase.

Tia had been in Middleton Hall before, but rarely had she walked through the elegant house. Most of the times, she was called only to help a servant below stairs. But the beauty of the town home astounded her. Large paintings hung on the walls. They must be relatives but she had to admit none of the images looked like Middleton. The people in the portraits were fairer in complexion, more like Jonathon.

They entered the room and Tia stopped. This was not a room, but a suite of rooms. The salon was larger than her bedroom in the cottage of his estate. A large sofa and two light blue velvet-covered chairs were situated near the commanding fireplace. A small cherry desk faced the windows that overlooked the street. Mr. Nelson opened the door to the bedroom and Tia followed behind him.

“This is such a beautiful bedroom,” she said with a wistful sigh.

Mr. Nelson smiled. “Yes, it is.”

Spying another door, she asked, “What does that lead to?”

Mr. Nelson's smile faded. “Just another bedchamber. But not to worry, the door locks from in here.”

“Very well, then.” Tia eased herself down on the bed. “Would it be possible to have a bath? I wouldn't wish to put someone out, but I need to soak my foot and then get the last piece of glass out.”

“Of course. Mrs. Abbott will be up presently to assist you. I shall send the footmen up with the tub and hot water.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nelson.”

“If you need anything, just ring.”

Tia sat down on the bed as the butler left the room. She had wanted nothing more than to lie back against the bed and fall asleep. But her dratted foot throbbed. Soaking it would help get the last few shards of glass out.

Drat Middleton for catching her. But at least now, she had an advantage. Hopefully, his brother would come to call on him and then she could make sure Jonathon was all right and tell him how she felt about him. Surely, the man had to feel the same after all the compliments he'd paid her over the summer. It wasn't everyday she was told how beautiful she was or how her amber eyes were like a fire, flaming his desire. That was the day she'd fallen in love with him.

The door to her room opened and an older woman with a scowl entered. “What are you doing on that bed? Get off those clean bedcovers this instant!”

Tia jumped off the bed as if it was on fire. “Are you Mrs. Abbott?”

“Of course I am.” She shook her gray head as she walked into the room and stared at her. “I don't know why you aren't downstairs where you belong,” she muttered.

“What do you mean?”

Mrs. Abbott glared at her. “You're nothing more than a servant, Miss Featherstone. I have no idea why the viscount would want you upstairs . . . unless you are here for another reason.”

Another reason? What did that old witch mean? Tia wasn't about to ask. “Have you brought my bathwater?” she asked in her haughtiest tone.

Mrs. Abbott's lip curled. “Yes, the footmen are coming up presently. Do not worry, princess, you shall have your bath.”

Oh, she didn't like this woman one bit. “Thank you.”

After the footmen brought up the tub and water, Tia worked on the front buttons of her dress. Mrs. Abbott didn't even offer to assist her, but that suited Tia just fine. She preferred undressing herself anyway. She was used to taking care of herself at the cottage. Although, she did wonder why Mrs. Abbott remained in the room if she wasn't going to help her.

“There is no need to stay, Mrs. Abbott. I can bathe myself.”

“I am only waiting for your clothing.”

Ah, that explained it. Middleton must have told Mrs. Abbott to clean her dress. Tia climbed into the tub and sighed as the hot water soothed her tired muscles. It had been a week since she'd been able to have a proper bath and that only lasted long enough for her to wash quickly. Tonight, she would savor this bath.

Mrs. Abbott picked up her clothing and walked toward the door. Tia glanced around.

“Mrs. Abbott, if you take all of my clothes, what shall I wear?”

“The viscount said he would give you a dressing gown to wear for tonight,” the older woman said with a smirk.

A dressing gown! “I need more than that.”

Mrs. Abbott shrugged her shoulders. “You will need to take that up with his lordship. He may care what you wear, but I certainly do not.” The door slammed as Mrs. Abbott left the room.

Tia sank into the tub to wet her hair. As she resurfaced, she heard the door open again. “Have you brought me a dressing gown?”

“Yes,” a husky voice replied.