Page 45 of A Wallflower to Win the Viscount

Anger bubbled up inside her. ‘The way you cared for me when I was a child?’

‘Exactly,’ Jasper said smugly, and Primrose could not believe the extent of the man’s self-delusion. ‘A young lady like you could easily become prey to a man such as the viscount.’

Primrose gave a small laugh. Chance would be a fine thing, she could say to her cousin. For her to fall prey to the viscount she would have to be in his company, and at the moment he was doing a fine job of avoiding her.

‘That laugh proves it, doesn’t it? You are so unworldly you have no idea what I am talking about, but I could tell you things about his father that would make your toes curl.’

Primrose continued smiling, remembering how curling toes was one of the many physical effects the son’s kisses had had on her.

‘Stop grinning like that, you fool,’ Jasper snapped, dropping all pretence of concern. ‘I’m offering you my help and protection. Something you obviously need. Something you should be grateful for. You’ve already shown yourself to be peculiar, without regard for what is proper for a young lady, living alone here surrounded by disease-ridden animals. It is now even more imperative you are legally placed under my care, so you don’t do anything more to destroy your reputation or the Fairburn name.’

‘How kind of you,’ she said, adopting the same patronising tone he’d recently used. ‘And you wish to do so without a thought for yourself.’

He bowed his head as if in thanks, oblivious to her sarcasm.

‘But I’m afraid you have no grounds to assume legal guardianship over me, and if you try then you will fail, just as you have failed at trying to unlawfully take my house from me. I’m sure any judge will easily see the real reasons behind this sudden desire to supposedly care for me.’

Her cousin’s snarl returned, and Primrose could almost see his mind working as he tried to come up with other ways to part her from her house. He had never liked losing, and that had not changed since he was a child.

But she had changed. And she rather liked this new Primrose who could stand up to her cousin, and she was having no problem reading his expressions or interpreting his behaviour. But then, his motivations and intentions were always so straightforward. He expected to get his own way at all times and acted like a petulant child when he did not.

But in this instance, he was going to discover what it was like to lose, and Primrose was discovering how sweet victory tasted.

‘If you’ve said everything you wish to say, and if you’ve finished making idle threats, then I would like you to leave, Jasper. Now.’

Chapter Sixteen

Lucian alighted from his carriage, pleased his meeting with the charity had proven so successful. Beatrice was right. They were indeed nonjudgemental, and he was certain his father’s house would soon be in good hands and put to good use.

He looked in the direction of a carriage parked outside Primrose’s house.

She had visitors.

Despite knowing it was none of his business, he wandered the short distance down the pavement to examine the crest on the side of the carriage. It was not that of the Duke of Rosedale nor the Earl of Thornwood.

He was now familiar with those carriages, and discreet inquiries had revealed they belonged to Primrose’s two friends.

This crest he had not seen before.

Could this be the work of Beatrice? She’d said she was determined to find Primrose a husband. Had she already found a man to court her?

Again this was none of his business, and if Beatrice had worked that quickly, he should be pleased. Primrose deserved to be happy. She deserved to be loved.

He turned and walked back to his father’s house, determined to ignore the knots twisting in his stomach and the irrational anger simmering inside him. A better man than him would not feel such petty emotions, and he wanted to be a better man. If Primrose was entertaining a suitor, then he wished her the best of luck. He had no right to object to the company she kept and hoped the man was worthy of her.

He stopped in the middle of the pavement and slowly turned back to the unknown carriage.

But would this man make her happy? Would he love her in the manner she deserved to be loved? Would he be worthy of her?

He glanced once more at the crest. The man was obviously titled, but that did not mean he was a good man. His father had been titled, and no one in their right mind would ever describe him as good.

He knew Beatrice meant well, but was she really in the best position to assess who would be right for Primrose? After all, she’d had high hopes for Ashcombe, and she could not have been more wrong about him, and as for that Marchwood fellow, Lucian still suspected there was something suspicious about that fox-loving charmer.

Perhaps he should make a few more discreet inquiries, just to reassure himself that she was in no danger.

‘Excuse me,’ he said to the liveried carriage driver. ‘I don’t recognise this crest. To whom does this carriage belong?’

‘The Earl of Stonely,’ the man replied.