Page 7 of The Seduction of Viscount Vice

Both his friends stilled, their expressions easing from rage to confusion.

“Lady Mairi MacNair?” said Sin carefully. “As in the Earl of Leithbridge’s daughter, who fell ill and tragically passed away while visiting Paris?”

“Yes. But she didn’t die,” snapped Vice. “Apparently that was a particularly nasty lie concocted to explain her running away to France with her manservant Ramsey.”

Devil blinked. “My ledgers can wait. I want to hear this story. Immediately.”

Slumping onto the edge of his carved oak four-poster bed, Vice let out a slow breath. These two men were like brothers to him. They fought like cats and dogs on occasion, but he knew without question they would stand shoulder to shoulder with him against any threat.

“Mairi lived in the next parish to mine. I was seventeen and made a complete fool of myself, trailing around after her like a moonstruck calf. Next thing I know, she is engaged to the rich old Earl of Farnsworth. So I go and fetch the best whisky I can find to drown my sorrows and head off to my favorite fishing spot.”

“And then?” Sin gestured impatiently.

“And then Lady Mairi appeared, and in a very short space of time the two of us were on the ground, naked, and enjoying the first of four goddamned spectacular fucks.”

“Hell,” said Devil. “So you were caught? Happens to the best of us.”

“No. We weren’t. I thought what we’d done meant she loved me and we would elope…as you know, Scottish law is so different, young couples don’t need parental consent or to be over twenty-one to marry. So I purchased a ring, gathered some belongings, and waited at a prearranged spot the following day. She didn’t arrive. Her father did, explained she had run away with a footman in the night, and then proceeded to thrash me unconscious.”

Sin grimaced sympathetically. “Shit.”

“Exactly. And I never heard from her again. Until she looked me in the eye in that antechamber downstairs and said ‘Hello, Iain.’ Once I got over the shock, our conversation was acrimonious, to say the least.”

“And you got your balls crushed.” Devil winced. “One of the harem told me that.”

“I survived,” Vice said irritably. Christ. The maids of Fallen, or the harem, as they were affectionately known, could probably run the War Office. Nothing got past them.

“So what are you going to do now?” Sin asked.

“I’m off to the Castlereagh’s tonight, since I promised Mama and Helena weeks ago I’d escort them. But tomorrow…”

Devil let out a low whistle. “Lady Mairi had better watch out. Just make sure you wear armored trousers this time.”

“Fuck off, the both of you. You’re making me late.”

Ten minutes later, Vice’s luxurious, well-sprung carriage was on its way to his mother’s townhouse in Upper Brook Street. And his frustration boiled over.

“Really? Mairi MacNair?” He punched a butter-soft leather squab as a cartload of unwanted memories rammed themselves into his mind. Much like Mairi’s bloody knee, which had nearly left him singing falsetto forever.

Yet again she’d made a fool of him. As much of a fool as he’d been at seventeen.

Christ, the stupid things he’d done. Attending dull teas and church fetes just for the opportunity to wish her good afternoon. Maiming his hands gathering sweet gale because she liked the scent. Riding to Perth because a shop there sold her favorite kind of cream cake. Smuggling his Latin and science textbooks to her in embroidery baskets because she wanted to learn and her parents rejected anything even vaguely bluestocking. While his friends had been honing their seduction skills and tupping a different lass every week, he’d held back, ignoring their incredulous laughter and loftily informing them that he would have no one but Lady Mairi.

Damned idiot.

“Fuck,” he snarled. “Why now? And not by accident in the street or at a soiree, but in my own bloody house?”

A sharp rap on the window startled five years from his life. Vice swallowed hard, his cheeks burning as he realized not only had the carriage arrived at the Parkton townhouse, but his mother and Helena were peering at him with quizzical amusement.

Swiftly he unlatched the door and held out a hand to assist both women inside, then the carriage continued to the Castlereagh residence.

“Did Parkton get to his meeting as planned?” Vice asked, just to fill the awkward silence. “And no, I won’t call him stepfather. He’ll only become evil if I do, and then life will be terrible for you and Helena. See, I live to ensure your health and happiness.”

Lady Parkton gave him an arched look. “My, my. Conversing with yourself followed by idle chatter. Something drastic is afoot. Now is the time to confess, my darling boy. Your mother is here with open mind and open heart. Because at this point in time, nothing can shock me.”

It was no use changing the subject or lying. His mother could sniff out a falsehood at a thousand paces and possessed the tenacity of a bloodhound. Besides, she might be the only person in England who would truly understand his predicament. She had heartily approved of his desire to marry Mairi, and had been equally devastated when informed of her death. “I, ah…I saw Mairi yesterday.”

Her indrawn breath was gratifyingly sharp. “What?”