Page 10 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

Primrose had already been the former and would probably soon be seen as the latter, so even if his intent had been to criticise, he was correct, so she gave a decisive nod of her head.

That smile once again fleetingly crossed his lips. If that was how he reacted to her being strong-minded, perhaps she should be so more often. Not only was it glorious to see, but it made it clear that hidden under that somewhat forbidding exterior was a man capable of enjoying himself and maybe even being happy, if only he allowed that to happen.

She smiled back at him. He held her gaze. Her smile faltered as his brown eyes looked deeply into hers. She gasped in a small breath, the air seemingly crackling with tension, just as it did before an electrical storm. His gaze moved down to her lips. She held her breath. Something was about to happen. Something momentous. Something life-changing. She just knew it.

‘Well, thank you for the tea, Miss Fairburn,’ he said, suddenly standing up. ‘It is time I took my leave.’

As if emerging from a trance, Primrose stumbled to her feet. Had that just happened? And if it had, what could it possibly mean?

‘I’ll see you out,’ she said, looking towards the back gate, then through to the house as if she’d forgotten how to perform this most basic of actions and was no longer sure of the layout of her own home.

‘No need. I know the way.’

With that he strode off down the garden without a backwards glance, passed through the back gate and disappeared.

Primrose slunk down into the cane chair, picked up Clawdia and stroked her fur.

‘Did you see the way he looked at me?’ she asked the cat. ‘What do you make of it?’

No man had ever looked at her like that before. She’d never wanted any man to look at her like that. But despite it being a little bit frightening, it was also exciting, and she’d found herself enjoying having the viscount look at her in such a manner, even if it had left her completely bewildered.

Usually when something confused her, she would immediately discuss it with Alice and Margaret. But in this instance, she knew exactly what they would say. They would urge caution and tell her that people were not like the animals. But after that look, the last thing she felt like doing was being cautious, and there was something decidedly primal about how she was feeling.

‘I think we had better keep what just happened, whatever it was, between the two of us,’ she said kissing Clawdia on the top of her head.

Chapter Three

After a restless night’s sleep, one plagued with thoughts of Miss Fairburn that were as inappropriate as they were unwanted, over breakfast the next morning Lucian’s mood lifted when he received some very good news.

A note from his estate agent informed him the man already had a prospective buyer lined up for the house. The estate agent claimed the interested couple was perfect. The husband was a rich industrialist, a self-made man, with more than enough funds to buy a house in Kensington. The note also alluded to the wife having ambitions of climbing the social ladder. She was after a home in which she could host fashionable soirées and balls, ones of such elegance and refinement that all of Society would be clamouring to attend.

The news could not have come soon enough. His desperation to get away from this house was now even greater. It was not just memories of his father he wanted to escape but also that innocent young lady next door and the feelings she brought out in him.

He’d always feared that deep down, when it came to women, he was no better than his father. There had been many women in his life over the last ten years, but he’d always ensured they were worldly women, women who came to his bed without illusions or expectations of anything more than just short-term and mutual pleasure.

These were not the sort of women his father was interested in, preferring the untouched, the reluctant, the ones he saw as another trophy to be won. Young women just like Miss Fairburn.

She could never be described as worldly. Nor was she the type of female who had hitherto stirred his interest, and yet yesterday he’d been hit by such a powerful pull of desire it had left him reeling.

He could try and tell himself that it meant nothing. He was simply attracted to her cheerful disposition, pretty face and delightful smile. Or that it was her compassionate nature which had caught his attention. Or perhaps that he was drawn to the strength underlying the softness which he’d glimpsed when she’d insisted she’d never eat meat. He could even try to tell himself he admired the way she remained cheerful and optimistic, despite being orphaned at a young age and raised by people who cared little for her.

But he suspected none of those were the real reasons why yesterday he’d wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her with a desperate need.

Whatever had happened yesterday, it was more than just admiration of her looks and character.

It seemed the ugly side of his nature had finally risen to the surface. One he’d tried to deny existed. One that had caused him to recoil in disgust at himself. At least he had stopped in time, something his father would never have done, but by God he had wanted her, and the way she had looked at him in return suggested he quite possibly could have had her.

He leant back against his chair, crumpling the estate agent’s note in his hand. This house appeared to be infecting him. He had to get away from it. Away from the memories it contained of his father, the guilt that still haunted him and his fear of descending into an abyss and becoming just like the man he most despised.

With a hard twist of anger, he screwed up the paper even tighter, remembering with bitterness how he had not always hated his father. Until the age of eighteen he had all but worshipped him, all the while living what he’d thought was a charmed life, where every whim was indulged by a man who’d seemed both generous and fiercely proud of his son and heir.

That had all changed when he’d turned eighteen and his father had declared Lucian was now a man. To celebrate his coming of age, his father had arranged a visit to London, to stay in this very house, telling him it was time he was introduced to the pleasures of city life.

Lucian had felt so honoured by his elevated status. When his father had told him it was time they had a man-to-man talk, Lucian had expected the same talk school friends had said they’d received from their fathers, about how one day they’d take on the mantle of the title and management of the estates, about responsibility, and the need to one day marry and carry on the family line.

His man-to-man talk had been nothing like that. ‘Tonight, son, you and I are going to go hunting and you will discover the true delights of being a future viscount,’ his father had announced gleefully.

Hunting? In London? His confusion had made his father laugh.