Page 50 of The Viscount and the Vixen
“I doubt that it occurred to him that London would care.”
“It would occur to your father.”
“Unlikely. His life centers around Havisham. He doesn’t care who knows I’m married. He only cared that I married.”
Locksley climbed out, secured the horses, and walked around to offer her his hand. “Are you disappointed not to have your newly acquired position heralded?”
She didn’t blame him for thinking so poorly of her, but she was growing weary of it, especially after last night, especially when he had seemed to be glad they were together. Placing her hand in his, she tilted up her chin. “But it is heralded. The entire village must know.”
Although no one wandering the streets was rushing over to congratulate them, which bothered her not in the least. She’d merely wanted to be reassured that news of her nuptials had not yet reached theTimes. The possibility that it might never appear in the London paper brought her more relief than he could ever know. She was safe, secure, protected, hidden away exactly as she wanted.
She stepped down, went to remove her hand, only his fingers closed more securely around it.
“Why am I always left with the impression that you’re not quite honest with me?” he asked.
“Why am I always left with the impression that you’re an incredibly suspicious sort?” she offered in rebuttal. She wanted to respond that she’d never lied to him, but there had been a thing or two that she’d told him that wasn’t completely true or exactly as she’d revealed it.
“If I weren’t, you’d be married to my father. Can you deny, after last night, that you’re glad you’re not?”
“I suspect I’d get more sleep if I were married to him.”
He grinned, and she refrained from reaching up to touch the corner of that luscious mouth that had done such wicked things to her after the sun had set. “I suggest you nap when we return to Havisham, if sleep is what you covet, as you’ll have even less of it tonight.”
“And when will you sleep, my lord?”
“When I’ve had my fill of you.”
“Are you challenging me to ensure you never do?”
“Would you accept if I were?”
She began to curl her lips into her sauciest smile, then stopped. She had no desire to play games with him, to be to him what she’d been to Montie. “I’d give it my best if that’s what you wanted.”
His eyebrows knitted together. “What were you thinking just then?”
She shook her head. “Something silly. Impossible. We should get to our errands, shouldn’t we? Before people begin speculating as to why we’re merely standing here as though we’re a couple of fools.”
“You may be many things, Portia, but foolish is not one of them. I’d bet my life on that.”
“And here I was just getting accustomed to having you around.”
“Are you admitting I’d lose that bet?”
“We are all foolish at one time or another, my lord. It is the only way in which we can become wise.”
“Perhaps someday you’ll tell me about those foolish lessons.”
“Don’t hold your breath.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it. Let’s get you some servants, shall we?”
His fingers loosened their hold, and he took her hand, placing it on his forearm, before leading her into the newspaper office. The smell of ink was sharp, the printing press taking up a good portion of the small space.
“Lord Locksley!” a man with salt-and-pepper hair sitting behind a desk exclaimed as he jumped to his feet. “Congratulations are in order, I hear.”
“I daresay, Mr.Moore, that you wrote as much.”
The man’s face turned a mottled red, the blush creeping up until it disappeared in his receding hairline. “The vicar said nuptials had taken place, and as it is my job to report the news, I did so immediately. Did I offend?”
