Page 17 of The Seduction of Viscount Vice

“Excellent!” said Grace, beaming. “Well, we’d better get ourselves to Madame Alice’s. Until later, Lady Mairi!”

She waved them away with a smile but rubbed both arms against an icy inner chill. What was ill-advised before had become risky to the extreme. This would have to be the end of her short affair with Iain. The chance of happily ever after was not a luxury a person in her position could afford. Reality was Worldly’s successful opening and discharging her debt to Yvette. The only fantasy she could hope for was performing onstage. Finally making her own dream of being free, unshackled by convention or poverty or obligation, come true.

Nothing else could matter.

…

“By the by, we’re having a guest to supper.”

Vice halted on the stair and glanced sideways at Devil. “I swear, if you have climbed aboard the matchmaking cart, I will take one of Eliza’s canes and break it over your head.”

His friend shrugged. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just do as my wife instructs.”

“How fucking convenient.”

Devil’s grin contained entirely too much smirk. “Isn’t it? I’m sure you won’t mind this particular guest, though. It’s Lady Mairi. Eliza and Grace bumped into her when they were out shopping and took it upon themselves to issue the invitation.”

What the bloody hell?

Fierce anticipation at seeing Mairi roared through him, swiftly followed by harsh caution. “Is that wise? I won’t have my investigator’s full report until the end of the week.”

“So do some more investigating of your own. Fallen is your territory, you can be in the position of power for once. We’ll all help, and the ladies will interrogate the hell out of Lady Mairi in their delicate, charming, smiling-assassin way.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Vice snapped. “I could have at least prepared myself.”

Devil raised an eyebrow. “You look fine. Cravat equally puffed, jacket fits like a glove, hair bordering on civilized in a queue…”

“Fuck off. I meant prepare mentally. Questions. Topics of conversation. The menu. What if something is served that Mairi doesn’t like?”

“Good God. You do have it bad. But the menu is in hand. Grace specifically asked Chef to prepare a few Scottish dishes in her honor. Herbed bannock bread and cock-a-leekie soup thickened with barley, to start.”

“Did someone say cock-a-leekie soup?” an achingly familiar voice in the foyer called. “Then I’m famished.”

Devil greeted Mairi then excused himself to find his wife. Vice walked toward her when he actually wanted to halt and admire the view. Sure, he’d always prefer her in breeches for unhindered enjoyment of her legs and backside, but the simple ruby-red gown she wore made her eyes seem even bluer. Far better, her long, silken curls weren’t tucked under a wig or swept up in a severe chignon but flowed freely down her back, held away from her face by thin wooden combs.

He frowned. They should be jet, studded with sapphires. Or solid silver with emeralds and diamonds. And the comb on the left was half an inch higher than the right.

Damnation. Why did his brain always dart to such fucking inane things?

“Good evening, Mairi.”

“What is the matter, Iain? You keep staring at my head…oh dear. My combs are uneven, aren’t they?”

Heat scorched across his cheekbones. “They’re fine. Just fine. Come along, the dining room is this way. Cock-a-leekie soup does indeed await.”

She laughed as they walked along the hallway. “Will you adjust them for me? I know it will pain you, otherwise.”

In one swift movement, Vice had her against the wall, his fingers tangling in her sweetly fragrant hair as he straightened the combs. “What are you doing here? Really?”

Her breathing quickened, her lips glistening as she ran her tongue over them. “I was invited.”

“No. Something compelled you.”

“Indeed. Decent food. Ramsey also mentioned you might still be at least part Scot and have proper whisky.”

As punishment for the impudence, he slid two fingers under her bodice and pinched one already hardening nipple. Mairi moaned, the soft sound primitive and needy, but rather than continuing, he withdrew his fingers and smiled. “Try again, my lady.”

“A poor attempt to seduce me. I know you actually prefer blondes now.”