Page 11 of A Widow for the Earl
His voice, a moment later, defied any need for sight. She would have known that disapproving tone anywhere.
Vincent stepped closer, narrowing his cold blue eyes at her. “Have you gone mad, Miss Johnson?”
CHAPTER SIX
“That is ‘Lady Wycliffe’ to you,” Beatrice retorted, blinking so rapidly that Vincent feared for the condition of her eyes. “And I might ask you the very same question.Whatdo you think you are doing, rummaging around in my personal reading room at such an hour? Indeed, ever?”
Vincent Wilds faltered, realizing as his surprise faded how the situation must have looked to her, for she lacked the context of how he came to be at Wycliffe Manor that evening.
But she need not speak to me in such an inappropriate tone.His annoyance flared afresh, bolstered by the sharp glare in her blinking eyes. Beautiful eyes, in truth; the color of fresh honey, golden brown in one moment, veering a little more toward green in the next. The sort of bewitching eyes that onewouldexpect from society’s most infamous ‘Sorceress.’ Yet, he did not appreciate them scowling at him after what he had just endured.
“Did invading my home and smacking into me rob you of your ability to speak?” she challenged breathlessly, her fists still raised. “I asked you a question, Wilds.”
His eyes flared, his mouth agape at the insult of her. “That is ‘my lord’ or ‘Lord Grayling’ to you, Miss Johnson,” he said curtly, wondering how he had ever tolerated her being friends with his sisters. “And I did not smack into you or invade your home. I did not know you were there. You should have moved out of the way when you saw the door open.”
“I thought there was a thief, Wilds,” she persisted. “I am the mistress of this household. It is my duty to defend it from intruders.”
He stared at her as if she really had taken leave of her senses. “Why? Are you alone here? Have you no servants?” He tilted his head to one side. “That would certainly explain a few things.”
“You are trying my patience, Wilds,” she remarked, stoking the fury ofhisfrustrations. “What are you doing here? If I have to ask you again, Iwillpunch you, even if I break a knuckle.”
He had never met anyone, man or woman, more infuriating than Beatrice. Every time they encountered one another, even when he had vowed to be civil, it unraveled into chaos. He could not explain it, but she had a knack for irritating him, her every behavior and speech a challenge to the rules that kept society afloat. Rules that he followed strictly, for without rules, there was no society at all, just disorder and anarchy.
Imagine every woman in society being like this…He shuddered at the thought, for though she was exceptionally beautiful, he knew it was that beauty that had allowed her to get away with her antics for so long. Even now, he suspected that the authorities were not marching upon her door because no one couldtrulybelieve that an uncommonly beautiful woman could be a cold-hearted killer.
“You leave me no choice.” Beatrice drew back her arm, her hand still curled into a fist.
Groaning at her rudeness, Vincent put up his hands, ready to catch her wrist if she attempted to strike him. “I came because I was summoned,” he said gruffly. “I arrived in an ordinary fashion, by carriage, and knocked upon the door. When no one greeted me and I found the door locked, I sought to come around to the back of the manor, but the gates to the gardens were also locked, forcing me to seek alternative means of entry.”
He pointed his thumb behind him. “That window was the only one open, so I climbed through. It was not an intrusion; it was a lack of options. And when I have light to see by, I mean to put back all of the things that I knocked over, trying to find the wretched door in the dark.”
“If you have smashed anything or ruined anything, there shall be trouble,” she warned, those incredible eyes flashing with fury. “And I suggest you find a dictionary in my library, search for the word ‘intrusion,’ and educate yourself on its meaning. You did intrude, you are an intruder, and I should like you to leave my residence at once. I did not summon you.”
Vincent clung onto his last thread of patience and courtesy. “I did not say you did.”
As an earl and a gentleman, he had every right to chastise her for her impoliteness, but her shallow breathing and somewhat wild-eyed stare stayed his tongue. He had scared her with his indelicate entry into the manor; he could see that plainly, so he would allow her a morsel of leniency. But only for now.
“You said you were summoned,” she replied sternly. “If I did not summon you, then you should not be here. There is no one else with the authoritytosummon you, and you are the very last person I would ever want here.”
“Enough, Miss Johnson,” he snapped, his irritation bringing him a few steps closer, until there was barely a gap between them. “Indeed, that is quite enough. I startled you, I admit that, but you will watch your tongue now that you have seen there is no threat.”
Beatrice mustered a harsh laugh, showing no fear as she glared up at him. “Yet, Idostill see a threat before me. A threat to my peace and quiet. You have already disturbed the entertainment that I took great pains to organize. By now, I will have missed the entire first performance.”
“What?” He blinked, confused.
“Puppets.”
“What?” he repeated, wondering if they were speaking the same language.
A surprised gasp severed the tangled conversation, Vincent’s attention snapping toward a figure in the hallway, who had just skidded to a halt. Beatrice’s attention was quick to follow, her shoulders relaxing as if the cavalry had just arrived.
“Mr. Bolam,” she said with a radiant smile. Another of her enchantments, undoubtedly. “We appear to have an intruder. I was just asking him to leave, but perhaps you would be kind enough to hurl him out of the front door instead. I do notquitehave the same arm strength as you.”
The man approached cautiously, a lantern in his hand. He raised it up as he came closer, the apricot light shining in Vincent’s eyes.
Mr. Bolam assessed Vincent, pursing his lips. “And who are you?”
If one more person addresses me inappropriately, I shall explode.
