As the maid expertly applied the brush to her long tresses, Althea studied her frowning visage reflected back at her from the mirror. Lord Montsimon would arrive at two o’clock to question her. He’d been quite critical of her, but his behavior was equally suspicious. Once dressed, she descended the stairs, steeling herself for the day ahead. She had much to ask of the viscount although she wasn’t at all sure she’d get the answers she sought.
Althea sat in the breakfast room eating toast and marmalade when a further letter arrived from Woodruff. As she read it, the bread in her mouth began to taste like ashes. She hastily washed the crumbs down with a sip of tea.
Lord Percy’s extravagant scrawl ranged across the page:
Dear Lady Brookwood, I deeply regret what happened last evening. I cannot rest until I advise you of the truth of the matter. I had no knowledge Sir Horace intended to call, or the frightful woman who somehow managed to slip by my butler. A thousand apologies! I can imagine how insulted you must have felt. Once I dealt with the problem, I hurriedly returned to the drawing room to explain the situation and to reassure you, only to find you had left! Your cloak accompanies this letter as you will surely have need of it in such cold weather! I can only pray you returned home safely and were not overly beset or made ill by the experience. If you can find it in your heart to forgive me, I remain your humble servant….
It had been a completely wasted evening. Althea threw the letter down on the table. She did not believe a word of it.
Montsimon was announced punctually at two o’clock. Butterworth showed him into the drawing room where Althea waited, fidgeting with the fringe on a cushion. She drew in a steadying breath and rose to greet him.
He bowed his sleek, dark head over her hand.
“Will you partake of some wine, Lord Montsimon?” she asked, annoyed at how faint she sounded.
“No, thank you.”
Althea gestured to a chair. “Please do sit.” Sinking back down, she arranged her skirts over her legs.
His gray coat, dark trousers, and silver-and-black striped waistcoat served to emphasize the intense expression in his eyes. The aggravating man was so elegant he made her feel like a frump, although she’d done her best to deal with the ravages of a few hours’ sleep, resorting to the flattering tones of lilac crepe. When she questioned the trouble she’d taken, searching for matching ribbons for her hair, she concluded that she wished to look her best to face what would be tantamount to an interrogation. And she intended to give him as much as she got.
He chose a different chair to the one she had offered. She watched him warily as he sat, facing her. It was now impossible to avoid his gaze, which seemed to take in every bit of her. His presence was so male, so bracing, she straightened her back, unsettled.
“My lady, I must apologize. My behavior last night was inexcusable,” he said in his lyrical brogue.
She had not expected appeasement. It quite threw her off. “I don’t see that you have anything to apologize for,” she replied. “You saved me from having to search for a hackney and with the snow….” She paused, for he had held up a hand to silence her.
“Please, let us not waste time playing word games,” he said in the same conciliatory tone.
She bit her lip. Damn the man, it was like attempting to catch hold of a slippery fish. “Games, my lord?”
“You had a reason for climbing down that tree. I assume it wasn’t merely an agreeable pastime in which you indulge.” He crossed his legs, reminding her of their pleasing length and shape, and folded his arms. “I trust you don’t intend to leave me in the dark?”
“I understand how intrigued you must be. As I confess to being about your motives for wandering Woodruff’s garden at that hour.”
Exasperatingly, he merely nodded and offered no explanation.
After another awkward pause, she was forced to speak. She fought to gain the upper hand. “My reason for being there is perfectly simple. I wished to employ Lord Percy’s help in persuading Sir Horace to cease legal proceedings, as he intends to remove my house from my ownership. But when Sir Horace arrived, I preferred not to see him.”
“I hardly find that to be a good strategy. Sir Horace is a man not easily swayed, not by a fop like Lord Percy at any rate.”
Her face heated. He was right, of course. It had not been wise of her. Sensing her composure was under subtle attack, she raised her chin. “It was all I had on offer, my lord, especially as those I asked to help me in the past have failed me.”
“You can hardly blame poor Lord Churton for that.”
“I was not thinking of Churton!” she cried outraged. “I was referring to you, my lord. After all, I had sought your help. I ask it again of you now.” She attempted a smile, but doubted its success as it seemed to freeze on her stiff cheeks.
Montsimon grasped the arms of his chair and leaned forward. “You must listen to me.”
She fought the desire to look away and stirred uneasily in her chair, caught by his compelling, magnetic eyes. “You have my attention.”
“Leave London. But do not go to Owltree Cottage.”
Not that again!“It doesn’t suit my plans to leave London, as I believe I have already said.”
Montsimon lifted his eyebrows. “There must be somewhere you can stay for the rest of the season,” he continued smoothly as if she hadn’t spoken “A good distance from the metropolis.”
She frowned. “No.”
