Page 18 of The Lady's Guide to Marrying a Viscount
Lord Wulverton’s lip curved but there was no playfulness in him. “It did indeed, and tore out Cavell’s throat, but too late to save its mistress.”
With that, he released her. Geneviève fell back against the window ledge, her knees unwilling to hold her steady.
Walking away, Lord Wulverton did not look back.
CHAPTER 9
It tooksome time for Geneviève to compose herself, for the world had tilted from its usual axis, bringing with it a flare of passion that had threatened to see her behave in a manner altogether contrary to her plans.
Displaying her wit and charm was one thing. Allowing Lord Wulverton to seduce her was quite another.
And then…
She could barely understand, but there had been a shocking change in his demeanor, as if he ran mad.
Was there mental instability in the family?
It was common, she knew, in certain places remote from Society, where the pool of eligible spouses was limited.
How else to explain his behavior?
Geneviève declined to attend luncheon, excusing herself with a headache, but she could hardly remain closeted forever.
Her designs stood unchanged. She would encourageHugo into a proposal, then depart the moor and return to France.
It was simply a matter of keeping her head.
Hugo roseas she entered the drawing room, lifting her hand briefly to his lips before ushering her to a seat between himself and Mrs. Wapshot.
The Waspshots’ daughter, Beatrice, was dressed modestly, as always, in a sensible shade of navy blue, but she’d pinned her fair hair quite charmingly—in the current ‘Gibson Girl’ style.
She was certainly pretty, in a natural, country way, and obviously admired by Hugo. Her temperament, from all Geneviève gleaned, would suit Hugo’s perfectly.
It was simply the girl’s bad luck that Geneviève had staked her claim upon Hugo. Whatever prior attachment had been forming, Beatrice’s golden innocence was no match for Geneviève’s darkly feminine allure.
Hugo was all attention, inquiring after Geneviève’s poor head, then directing her toward the most delicious of the teatime fancies. In honor of the season, they were drinking spiced wine, which Hugo insisted she sample while it was hot.
Meanwhile, from where he stood behind Marguerite’s chair, Lord Wulverton stared at Geneviève quite blatantly. Whatever mood had possessed him before seemed to have alleviated only moderately, forthe intensity of his gaze was extreme—as if to delve her soul.
Heaven forbid that he should do so successfully!
The Reverend took a sip from his glass. “How blessed we are. Not all are as fortunate, gathering in festive cheer.”
Marguerite raised her glass. “You’re most welcome. What merriment can there be if one lacks friends with whom to celebrate?”
Reverend Wapshot nodded, taking a pastry from the tray. “It’s at this time that I feel most for those poor souls in the prison.”
Hugo shifted in his seat. “Quite so, although, of course, theyarecriminals, duly sentenced and punished. We could hardly expect the taxpayer to indulge them with cake and claret.”
Mrs. Wapshot leaned closer to Geneviève, speaking in an undertone. “I try not to think too much of the proximity of that place, nor the nature of the men who reside there. You know there was a break-out almost a month ago? Three men on the loose, having made skeleton keys out of bones from their dinner!” She puckered her lips. “If I was in charge, I’d not give them any meat at all.”
Geneviève whispered in reply, as the others continued their conversation. “And one is yet to be apprehended?”
“If there’s any justice, he’s been taken by the moor. There was a thick mist that night, so the chances are he came to a bad end in the mire.” Mrs. Waspshot’s eyeswere positively gleaming.
Geneviève rather hoped the poor fellow had gotten away. Perhaps some of the moor folk had seen fit to help his escape.
“One fatal step and you’re thigh-deep and done for!” declared the clergyman’s wife. “Whole sheep and ponies have been lost on these moors. Divine justice, I’d say, if the criminal was sucked down straight to Beelzebub’s furnace!” She uttered the last with relish.
