“Do that, son. It is none of your business, as Miss Ruskin has clearly indicated.” The earl ran a hand across the nape of his neck. “Miss Ruskin, I believe I owe you an apology. Needless to say, I will no longer browbeat my son into returning to London with me and forgetting about his party. He is even more stubborn than I am and will not be budged from his decision. After tasting your food, I can assure you that my wife and I shall be attending this party of his, which is likely to be a disaster in every way but your meals.”
The viscount laughed. “Thank you for that vote of confidence.”
He ignored his son and continued to smile at her. “My mother will attend, as well. I think she will be very interested in meeting you.”
“I look forward to meeting all the ladies in your family, my lord.”
He gave a nod of satisfaction and then turned to his son. “I have no doubt the weekend will be a culinarytour de force. However, I’m not certain how the rest of it will turn out since you prefer to hide out like a bear in a cave. You’ve never had a tolerance fortonaffairs, including weekend house parties. Let’s hope it will not all blow up in your face. You do see how easily it can turn into disaster?”
He stared once more at Viola as he spoke the last.
Why did the earl have such little faith in his son? Hadn’t he chosen well in his first wife, Lady Jillian? After the way the man had complimented her on her meals, she knew his reference to disaster had nothing to do with her culinary skills. She could prepare a feast for the entire village in her sleep.
She caught the viscount eyeing her as well.
Oh.
Yes, this was the disaster in the offing. The attraction between her and the viscount. But it would not lead anywhere, nor would she allow it to go beyond a kiss.
Dear heaven, how she wanted this man to kiss her.
But she would not allow a jot more, for she would be no man’s mistress.
Just one kiss.
Why did her traitorous body have other ideas?
And why, in heaven’s name, could she not feel this way about George Haworth?
CHAPTER 8
ALEXANDER DID NOTsee Viola for the next few days, his father having stayed on to ensure they were kept apart. He only complied for Viola’s sake. Protecting her honor was the only reason he played along with his father’s demands.
Besides, the old man was leaving tomorrow.
At last.
He would have peace in his own home…well, not so much peace as the privacy to ache for Viola without anyone to snoop and comment.
Today was the day of the Midsummer Fair.
As dawn broke on the horizon, Alexander knew Viola had already been up for several hours and furiously preparing her dough. Perhaps she had stayed up all night and not yet gone to bed. He washed and dressed, then saddled his own mount, a seasoned bay he had named Caligula despite the beast’s gentle nature.
He had acquired Caligula only a year ago and the name reflected his own vile temperament at the time. “There,” he muttered, tightening the cinch. Since the hour was early, he easily attended to the chore himself in order not to waste time rousing the grooms.
He rode off toward the vicarage.
There was a beauty to this early morning hour, the sun glowing behind the hills and a light mist still hovering over the meadows. The air was cool and still damp, and the scents were vivid. Dew-laden grass. Lilac flowering in tumbles over the hedgerows. Mince tarts baking.
He dismounted and strode into the vicarage kitchen which was an utter disaster with bowls strewn everywhere, a mist of flour rising off Viola’s work table, and Viola was darting about like a little whirlwind. “I thought you said you only prepared the dough for the ladies of the village. But you are also baking.”
She cast him a tired smile, but her eyes were alight and she appeared pleased to see him. “Good morning, my lord. Are you here to criticize or help?”
He grinned as he rolled up his sleeves. “Help, of course.”
He hadn’t dressed finely, merely tossed on a work shirt and a pair of old, buff trousers. “What shall I do?”
She had flour smudged on her chin, nose, and cheeks. The pins in her hair had loosened and he expected her hair would fall in a glorious, dark tumble if she so much as sneezed. One quick move and it would all come down in a breathtaking cascade about her slender shoulders.
