Vexing the Viscount (3 page)

B
raden leaned back against the door and ignored the spark of passion scurrying through his body. He was only here to drop off the dressing gown so she had something to cover her naked body. Her lush, naked, wet body.
Stop thinking about that
, he commanded himself.
You are not that man any longer.

“Middleton?”

She had yet to turn and look behind her. He briefly wondered why. None of the wise women he'd met seemed to have a care about their modesty. Tia's own sister had made no attempt to hide her relationship with a man.

“Middleton, is that you?” She craned her neck to glance back. Spying him, her brown eyes widened and her full mouth gaped. “What are you doing in here?”

He shook his head to clear his lecherous thoughts. Remembering his true reason for being here, he held out a dressing gown. “I brought this for you to wear until I can get a dressmaker here tomorrow.”

“A dressmaker? There is no need for that. If one of the maids could just clean my clothes, I can make do with that until I return to the inn and pick up my other belongings.”

Braden laughed coarsely. “I'm afraid there has been a slight problem with your dress.”

“What do you mean?”

“I believe it fell into the fire.”

“What fire?” Her voice rose higher.

“The one in the kitchen.”

“You, sir, must have the most incompetent servants ever. How could a person ‘accidentally' drop a dress into the fire? I knew that Mrs. Abbott didn't like me, but this is uncalled for. I demand you do something about it.”

He moved away from the door and walked past the tub. As he did, he couldn't help but smile when she attempted to cover herself with her hands. He sank into a chair near the window, but just far enough away that he couldn't quite see her naked body. “I don't believe I said it was an accident.”

“So she did it on purpose and you knew that?” she sputtered. “That woman needs to be sacked.”

“No,
I
told her to burn your clothing.” The poor girl slipped deeper into the water until it lapped against her chin.

“Why would you do such a thing?” she whispered.

“Lice and fleas. I will not tolerate them in my house.” While he had no reason to believe her clothing might have carried the vermin, he'd still ordered it burned. That mousey gray dress was the most hideous gown he'd ever seen on a woman.

“I do not have lice or fleas!”

He shrugged. “I wasn't about to take the chance after seeing the conditions you were living in. I thought you were supposed to be staying with a friend.”

She looked down at the water and shook her head. “They were evicted for not paying their rent a week before I arrived. The landlord had no idea where they went.”

Braden crossed his arms over his chest. “So instead of returning to the safety of Middleton Hall, you decided to stay at that disgusting inn. And in one of the most undesirable areas in London to live.”

He attempted to keep his anger under control, but her utter lack of sense only frustrated him more. How could an intelligent woman make such a foolish choice? Love, of course, he reasoned. There was no other reasonable explanation.

“I couldn't return to the estate until I had finished what I had come here for.” She lifted her head and stared at him.

“And what was that?”

“I am done speaking of this matter. My bathwater is cooling and I would like to finish bathing before my teeth start chattering. Please leave this room.”

He rose slowly, but not before admiring her body in the tub for a brief second. “Your towel and dressing gown are on the table next to you. I will have a tray sent up to your room. Tomorrow after the dressmaker brings something she can make work for you, we shall depart for Middleton Hall.”

“I am not leaving London yet.”

“Yes, you are. I will make sure of it.” He opened the door before she could retort and walked to his room. His valet Wilson was already there, getting Braden's evening clothes ready. The last thing he wanted to do was attend a party, but as long as he was in town, he had to try to find Jonathon. His brother loved to be around the
ton
.

Between Tia and Jonathon, Braden felt as if he was the only person with any sense. He understood Tia's motivations far better than Jonathon. She thought she was in love with his brother. If she only knew him for what he truly was, she might think differently. The two months Jonathon spent at Middleton Hall this summer, he'd been a man anyone could love. But his brother couldn't maintain that façade for long. He always returned to the habits that were ruining his life.

After dressing, Braden headed for Berkeley Square and the crush of people that even the late summer couldn't keep away. Most of the landowners headed out to their estates to escape the heat and foul odors of London in the summer. Those who remained tended to run in a fast set, something Braden had finally outgrown.

Walking up the steps of Lady Hargrove's town home, he wondered who the young widow had taken to replace him in her bed. Not that he cared. It was strictly a morbid curiosity.

“Well, this is quite a surprise,” she drawled as he strolled into her salon.

“Lizzie,” he said with a nod, before seizing a snifter of brandy from a passing footman. “How have you been?”

The elegant blonde strolled closer. “I have been wonderful.” She leaned in closer. “But no one can ever truly replace you in my bed. I would be more than happy to kick a young pup to the street if you wish to return.”

“I believe I will pass on that offer,” he said with a hint of disdain.

Lizzie's face hardened. “Why?”

“Because we both know that young pup, as you call him, entered your bed before I had even left it.”

She forced her chin upward, turned, and walked away.

Braden smiled. He had wanted to do that for the past six months. Lizzie had only wanted him because he'd just inherited the title.

“Look who has returned from moldering in the country.”

Braden turned to see Jack Cranborne grinning at him. “Jack, thank God there is one friendly face at this damned party.”

Jack smiled and nodded. “I didn't expect to see you
here
.”

“I'm looking for Jonathon. Have you seen him?”

“He's not here. In fact, I didn't know he was in town. The last I'd heard he was spending the summer at Middleton Hall . . . with you.”

“He left.”

Jack's smile disappeared. “How has he fared?”

“He was quite well out in the middle of nowhere. But if he has truly returned, I fear he shall fall back into his old habits.”

Jack's lips turned downward. “I'd be happy to help you find him. Especially if it means getting out of here tonight.”

Braden laughed. “No one worth seducing?”

“Not a one.”

“Who is Lizzie with these days?”

“Stephenson.”

“Ned Stephenson? Isn't he only twenty-two?” Braden could not believe Lizzie would have an interest in such a young man. There had to be an ulterior motive. “Why?”

“He was just named heir presumptive to an earldom of his uncle's. Since his uncle is seventy and in poor health, it seems apparent that Stephenson will inherit before too long.”

“Makes sense that Lizzie wants to get her claws into that one. She'd much rather be a countess than a dowager baroness.”

“Exactly. And he's young enough to control.” Jack shook his head. “I heard there is some action at Handler's tonight. Perhaps Jonathon is there.”

“Give me a minute to just look around here.”

Braden scoured the rooms for Jonathon, but found no sign of him. He and Jack tried Handler's gaming hell to no avail. While Jack played some faro, Braden made a few inquires but no one had seen Jonathon since spring. Braden walked back through the smoke-filled room, choking back a cough. He hadn't missed this.

His friend sat at the faro table with a smile and a good amount of coins in front of him. One man left the table, so Braden slid into his seat. Immediately, one of the many whores sat down on his lap and whispered in his ear.

“I have an empty bed upstairs just waiting for you.”

“Not tonight, darling. Go try another man,” he choked out. Good God, the woman must have soaked in perfume. The disappointed woman slipped off his lap and walked toward another more willing victim.

“Anything?” Jack asked.

“No one has seen him,” Braden said, then checked his cards and frowned. The scowl on his face had nothing to do with his cards. If his brother hadn't been at the most popular party of the night, nor at one of the most popular gaming hells, where the bloody hell could he be?

Unable to concentrate on his cards, he folded and scraped back his chair. “I'm going home,” he said to Jack.

“Now?” Jack replied, staring at his cards. With a groan, he tossed his cards down, picked up his winnings, and followed Braden out the door.

“You didn't need to leave.”

“Safety in numbers, my friend. I wasn't about to leave alone with this much coin in my pocket. You never know what might happen.”

“True,” Braden replied. Handler's wasn't in the best location.

They walked the quiet streets in silence but the hairs on the back of his neck stood straight. Braden had the oddest feeling that someone was watching them. The sound of pistol fire filled the air. Both Jack and Braden fell to the street. A burning sensation spread from Braden's upper arm. “Dammit.”

They both slowly rose and glanced around but noticed no one.

“You're bleeding,” Jack said, staring at Braden's arm.

“All over my favorite jacket.” He gritted his teeth against the pain. “Come on, my carriage is just up the street.”

They rushed to the safety of his carriage and collapsed onto the velvet squabs. Braden pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held it to his wound. It really was no more than a scrape, but it hurt like hell.

“Was the shooter after you or me?” Jack asked with a worried look.

“You won the money.” But even as Braden said those words, he wondered if he spoke the truth. He was the viscount now. Both his uncle and cousin had died in questionable situations. His uncle was killed in a carriage accident in Scotland and his cousin Randolph drowned at a hunting lodge in Suffolk. It couldn't be proven that either death was not accidental, but for Randolph to die only two weeks after inheriting had put the suspicion on Braden.

And no one had approached Jack after the shooting in an attempt to steal his money.
Dammit!

“Bloody hell,” Jack muttered. “One of us might have been killed. Should I take you to the surgeon?”

“No, take me home.”

“You need to have that looked at.”

“I will.” Miss Featherstone was about to earn her keep.

 

After her bath, Tia finally drew the last piece of glass from her foot. She bound the wound and lay back against the soft pillows. Her hands still shook from her interaction with Middleton. She'd only seen him a few times at the estate this summer. Their conversations had been brief and concerned the well-being of one of his servants who'd had an attack of gout.

Those short talks had never left her feeling as shocked as tonight when he walked into the bedroom while she bathed. She couldn't help but notice the way he slid a glance at her naked body. His blue eyes had darkened to the color of sapphires. But it was her reaction that frightened her. With her hands covering her breasts, she felt her nipples grow taut under his heated gaze.

What was wrong with her?

She didn't want Middleton. She didn't even like the man. He was cold, dark, and the type of man who used women purely for his own benefit. Nothing like his brother. Oh, where could Jonathon be? And how was she supposed to find him if Middleton insisted on leaving tomorrow? She couldn't run off from the house in his dressing gown.

Somehow, she had to figure out a way of leaving before they departed for Middleton Hall.

A knock disturbed her musing. “Yes?”

“I have a tray for you, miss.”

Tia forced herself off the comfortable bed. Padding across the thick carpet, she loved the way the fibers caressed her feet, unlike the threadbare carpets in her cottage at the estate. “Come in,” she called.

A tall footman entered the room with a tray in one hand. “Evening, miss. His lordship said you might be hungry.”

As much as she didn't want to take his charity, her stomach growled in protest. “Thank you. Will you ask Lord Middleton to come to my room? I need to speak with him.”

The younger man frowned. “He left, miss.”

Tia glanced at the clock. It was nearly eleven. Where would a man go at this hour? “Where was he going?”

“I believe he meant to attend a party.”

“Oh,” she said, slightly disappointed. She'd only wanted to confirm their departure time so she could plan her escape. “Thank you.”

Once the footman had left, she ate her small meal and decided there was nothing else to do but go to sleep. If only it had been that easy. The minute she closed her eyes, his face flashed in her mind. She wondered why he wore mostly black. Perhaps he was vain enough to realize that it accentuated his blue eyes, which it did. Still, she didn't like the man or his aggressive demeanor with her. She forced herself to think about Jonathon.

She fell asleep, dreaming of the man she loved, until shouting from the entryway awakened her.

“Wake her up,” a deep voice demanded as footsteps faded down the hall. “Now!”

Tia sat up in her bed and looked around in confusion. A knock hammered her door a minute later.

“Miss Featherstone, you must wake up.”

She glanced over at the clock on her nightstand. It was barely three in the morning. They couldn't be leaving for Middleton Hall at this hour. “What is wrong?”