Page 10 of The Viscount and the Vixen
“Not yet; he’s simply prone to falling asleep at odd times.” He knelt beside the chair, curled his hand around his father’s shoulder, and gave him a little shake. “Father, wake up.”
His father’s eyes fluttered open, unfocused, distant. “Is Linnie calling for me?”
His pet name for Locke’s mother, Madeline, who apparently had detested being called Maddie. “No.”
“Good. I have time to get ready for dinner. She despises when I’m late for dinner.”
“Mrs.Gadstone is dining with you this evening.” Easier to bring him into the present than crush him by making him face the truth of his past.
“Mrs.Gadstone? I don’t know a Mrs.Gadstone.”
Locke looked back over his shoulder and arched a brow at Portia.See what you’re getting yourself into?
She stepped in front of the marquess. “I’m Mrs.Gadstone, my lord. Portia Gadstone.”
His father’s face lit up, and he snapped his fingers. “Of course, of course. I remember now. Did you enjoy your tour of the residence, my dear?”
“It was very enlightening.”
Tactfully put, Locke thought.
“Take a seat and tell me all about it, but first where’s the vicar? He should be here by now.”
“I’m certain he’s on his way,” Locke assured him.If you did indeed inform him that he needed to be here.He was hoping he’d only done it in his mind.
Portia returned to her chair. Locke sat on the end of the couch, nearer to her this time, although he couldn’t comprehend why he wanted less distance between them. “Father, it occurred to me that it might be best to wait a few days before proceeding with the wedding, give Mrs.Gadstone an opportunity to become more accustomed to what her life here will entail.”
“Neither frugal nor practical, Locke. I agreed to pay her a hundred pounds each day the wedding is delayed.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I signed a contract. If she doesn’t marry today, I have to pay her a hundred pounds every day until she is wed. If I call off the wedding completely I have to pay her ten thousand quid.”
Locke bolted to his feet. “Have you gone mad?”Of course he had. He’d gone mad years ago.
“I had to give her some sort of reassurance that she wasn’t making this trip for nothing. That my intentions were honorable. That I wasn’t seeking to take advantage.”
But she was. Locke shifted his gaze to Portia, who was wearing a beguiling yet almost innocent smile, her eyes on him, screaming satisfaction, as though she had bested him. The little witch. She’d mentioned the contract. Had known when she walked through the door that no matter how much he might not wish it so, this marriage was going to take place, or he was going to pay her a hefty purse. She’d said as much.
He’d been so intrigued by her damned eyes that he hadn’t thought to question it then. “I want to see this damned contract.”
“I thought you might,” she said sweetly. Reaching into her reticule she withdrew a small leatherette, untied the cord, and removed several folded sheaves of paper. He snatched them out of her hand and proceeded to scour the contents.
“Tearing them up won’t help,” she said blithely. “My solicitor has a copy.”
“I have a copy as well.”
Not helping, Father.
He read the words carefully. The Marquess of Marsden might be mad, but he wasn’t an idiot. He’d have provided himself with some avenue of escape. And there it was, carefully hidden among a gibberish of words. Locke almost laughed aloud, the wily old bugger. He was clever.
Locke slid his gaze over to Portia Gadstone and, for the first time, clearly saw her for what she truly was. A mercenary, a title chaser, someone wanting to rise so badly above her station she would use any means necessary to accomplish her goal, including taking advantage of an aging gentleman. The sort of woman he could never grow to care for, could never love, could never give his heart to.
She was bloody perfect.
“I’ll marry her.”
Chapter4
