Page 4 of Brutal Serpent

I would probably never see him again. Or he’d be deeply apologetic when we next met.

Then why did I feel so nervous as I watched his tall, lean figure disappear into the crowds at the ball?

Although I was uneasy, Mama was thrilled by his attentions, and it was all she could talk about the entire way home in the carriage.

Mama was tall and elegant, and her red hair a much more becoming shade of auburn than mine. She had been the accredited beauty of her season, and my father, tall and handsome and raven-haired then, and tall and handsome with silvery streaks in his dark hair now, had easily charmed and won her.

“Did the Viscount say anything about calling?” she asked eagerly. I could feel my father and brother’s eyes on me.

“He did,” I acknowledged reluctantly, although I did not want to talk about the Viscount. “But I don’t think he means it. You must—you must know, Mama. He cannot be serious. I think he was just—having a bit of fun.”

But my Mama was not a very creative woman, and this she could not fathom. “Don’t be missish,” she said. “What’s wrong with you, silly girl? You ought to be pleased a man likethatis payingyouattentions. Yourmamawas an accredited beauty during her season, you know.”

I had heard this many times, but it was hard for me to articulate just why the sight of St. Erth made me nervous.

“There’s no--there’s no reason a man like the Viscount would wantme,” I protested. “And I don’t want him!”

“Silence, Papa broke in angrily. “Enough of your foolish babble, Catherine. Perhaps he is a sensible man looking to make a sensible match. You will do what you can to encourage the Viscount and show him you would be an ideal wife for a man in his position.”

I couldn’t sleep that night, and I looked out my window at London, my stomach twisting in knots.

Surely he won’t come to call.

Surely he was just drunk.

Surely he didn’t mean anything he said.

CHAPTER 3

St. Erth

The day after I first danced with my wife, I walked up the steps of the London home the Wendovers had hired for the season. I curled my lip to see Catherine’s brother Millward stumble up the steps with a drunken grin.

Millward was a drunken, sloppy fool.

With one twist of my wrist, I grabbed him by the collar.

“Unhand me, you ruffian,” he slurred drunkenly.

But there was no escape for any member of the Wendover family.

I brought my knee across his forehead and pitched him off the side of the stairs where he landed with a crunch on the hard sidewalk and rolled into the gutter below. It would only break his bones painfully, not kill him, and provide a distraction from the Wendovers’ insipid conversation later.

I knocked on the door as Millward moaned in the gutter, remembering with pleasure that I had just visited the august Earl who rented out this home for the Season. After a smooth and easy transfer of funds, he had agreed to start to harass the Wendovers for money starting today. I had made other calls to various tradespeople, and they would soon be comingto repossess everything from Lady Julia’s gowns to Millward’s cravats.

They’d soon have no choice but to accept my offer for their daughter’s hand in marriage. The naked thirst and need in their eyes when I danced with Catherine was obvious, their eyes greedily devouring my body to calculate how much my coat was worth.

My coats and pantaloons, made by the most exclusive tailors in London, only emphasized my status as a prospective suitor. Well-cut, fitted, every row of my lace ruffles showing my wealth and power.

But I’m not a suitor.

I’m going tousetheir daughter, not court her.

My marriage and heir will complete my revenge, but most likely it will be a tedious, dull thing to be married. I would invite my friends Lord Sheringham and Mr. Westruther to come shooting for ptarmigan season to liven up the unutterable dullness of life in the country.

Inside, Lady Julia was practically salivating as she looked at me, angling her body toward me and talking with flirtatious animation. Maybe she thought her beauty would be an extra inducement for me to marry into the family.

She was a fool.

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