Page 56 of The Viscount's Promise
“You have not seen even a portion of what I am capable of,” he snapped.
“Oh, stop being such a surly beast. Can’t you see I wish to make up?” Her fingers skimmed up his chest, tugging at his waistcoat, tangling in his cravat, sending the careful folds into complete disarray.
Disgust at her touch roiled through him. He glared down at her, fighting the violent urge to push her away. But he had never struck a woman, and he wasn’t about to start now. “Remove your hands from my person at once.”
“In a moment,” she murmured before, with a move as quick as lightning, she pushed up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.
He wrenched away from her, wiping his hand across his mouth. “Enough of your mischief, madam.”
“You will not even accept a parting kiss of friendship? Very well, you horrid man.” She pouted. “I shall leave you to your lonely splendor.”
He watched her go, a sudden exhaustion sapping him. The woman was a menace. He ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands in frustration before, with a sigh, he returned to his drink. Finding the glass empty, he poured himself another healthy measure. He would take any help he could to get through tonight. Though surely, he thought as he dropped into a chair before the hearth and took a swig, things could not get any worse than they were.
• • •
Emily was painfully aware of Malcolm’s every movement for the entirety of the evening, as she waited in vain for him to acknowledge her beyond the brief nod of greeting. But he never did. Oh, he looked her way often. But never once did he approach or offer her anything in the way of friendly overtures. Certainly nothing close to the affection he had shown her that afternoon. And as the night wore on, she felt herself shrinking back into the shell of a creature she used to be.
More than once, she told herself she was being foolish. It meant nothing. But why else had his attentions shifted so drastically, if not due to a change of feelings on his part?
She busied herself as best she could. She would not be seen mooning after him. But even as she tried to immerse herself in a book, she saw from the corner of her eye as he left the drawing room. Moments later, after a sly look around the room, Lady Morley followed.
Emily sat frozen. Surely it was coincidence. There could be any number of reasons for the two of them to leave the room practically together. But no matter how she tried to give rationale to it, her mind kept spinning back to her conversation with Lady Morley. The woman wanted Malcolm. She had left no doubt as to that. But he did not want her. Hecouldnot want her.
She kept to her seat, her gaze on the door. They would return at any moment. Yet as the minutes ticked by, the small spark of hope in her breast threatened to go out entirely. Desperate now, she rose and strode for the door. She would see for herself that the very idea of Malcolm and Lady Morley together was foolish. She would prove once and for all that there was nothing between them.
Once in the hall, she found it deserted. Which way had they gone? She stood there, undecided. Frustrated, she very nearly returned to the drawing room when she saw it, a door opening down the hall. Caleb’s study, she knew. Suddenly Lady Morley appeared and started back to the drawing room.
There was a flushed look to her face, her hair in disarray. She looked, Emily thought with dread, as if she had just been kissed.
The woman spotted her then. “Oh! Lady Emily. I am so happy I have run into you, for I cannot contain my happiness a moment longer.”
Emily shook her head. “Where is Malcolm?” she rasped.
“I have just come from him.” She sighed happily. “To think, after so many years, he still cares for me. Oh! But you must promise to keep it a secret. There is a girl here who has the most embarrassing infatuation with him and he doesn’t wish to hurt her.”
Spots began to swim in Emily’s vision. “Is there?”
“Yes. The poor thing told him this sad little story about her brother and a prank and chickens.” She laughed. “Can you imagine? Telling a worldly man like Malcolm such a thing? She could not have been more pathetic if she tried. But I’d best be off. Ladies retiring room, you know.” With a wink she left.
Emily could not breathe. No, he would not have told the story about Jonathan. Yet no matter how she tried to reason, she knew there was no other way Lady Morley could have known about it. She stared stupidly at the study door.Turn back, she told herself in desperation. Her body, traitor that it was, would not listen to the plea. She moved forward, as if drawn by ropes down the hall. Knowing what she would find, not wanting to see, unable to stop. All too soon she was at the door. With a deep breath and trembling fingers, she pushed it open.
Malcolm lounged in a low overstuffed chair, bathed in faint orange light. His head rested on the back of the chair, eyes closed. But it was not his presence itself that had her heart shattering. It was the state of dishabille he was in. His jacket lay draped over a chair, his cravat in messy folds. Even his hair was mussed, falling over his forehead in inky waves. As if someone had run their fingers through it in a moment of passion.
As if Lady Morley had done so.
She barely managed to choke back the sob that threatened. What had she expected, that he would be content with her after being reminded of the stunning creature he had loved so ardently? That she could ever compete with Lady Morley, who was quite simply the most beautiful woman Emily had ever seen?
Even without this physical reminder, she was a fool to think she and Malcolm would have suited in the first place. They came from different worlds. No, it was better she found this out now, before she went and married him and learned the very cruel lesson that life with Malcolm, no matter how she loved him, would have eventually destroyed her.
With one last long look on him, she quietly closed the door and made her way back to the party.
Chapter 20
It was with immense relief that Malcolm watched Lydia, along with Lord and Lady Randall, leave for the evening. The party broke up immediately after, everyone trickling out to find their beds. Finally Emily rose, heading for the door.
He followed on her heels. He was done with waiting. If he did not get her into his arms this instant, he would perish.
The hallway was blessedly empty. She walked ahead of him, head down, oblivious to him following behind. Seeing his opportunity in the form of an empty sitting room looming ahead, he came up behind her and snaked an arm about her waist. She did not have even a moment to show her surprise before he had her in the room, the door closed soundly behind them. And then she was in his arms, her mouth under his. Nothing had ever felt so glorious.
