Page 21 of An Affair with a Notorious Heiress
Her eyes flew open at the deep voice, and she found herself staring at one of Downie’s contemporaries whose age resided somewhere on the other side of thirty. A couple of inches taller than she, he was slender, not bad looking. “Lord Wickham, it’s Lady Landsdowne to you.”
He gave her a laconic smile. “Come now. A woman with your past can hardly stand on formality.”
“The courts granted me the use of the title. I shall have it used.”
Slowly, he raked his gaze over her. “The divorce did not diminish your beauty.”
She had no idea what one had to do with the other. “I should return to the box.”
She made to move past him and he blocked her path. “Surely you cannot fault an old friend for wanting to spend a few minutes in your company.”
Friends did not abandon during a time of need. Not that she’d ever held him in such regard. He’d danced with her on occasion, flirted with her before she’d married. But they’d never taken a turn about the garden or conversed on anything of consequence. “I’d be hard pressed to identify us as friends. Acquaintances perhaps.”
“I’d like for us to be more.” Coming nearer, he placed his forearm on the wall, his gaze locking onto hers. Her heart spiked but she refused to be intimidated or run. Although she did wish she’d brought her pistol.
“I don’t see that happening.” She was rather pleased that she sounded so calm when her body was tensing with each passing breath. “Please move away.”
He stayed where he was. “You have no reputation to protect, and I am in want of a mistress.”
“I’m not certain your wife would appreciate that.”
“She’ll never know.”
“The wife always knows. Now step aside.”
“You don’t really want that.” The smile he gave her indicated he thought himself irresistible. He lifted his ungloved hand, moved it toward her cheek—
“Touch her and I’ll break your fingers one by one.”
Wickham jerked as though he were a marionette whose strings had been yanked. It was strange how the breath seemed to whoosh into her lungs—whether it was because Wickham was no longer hovering near or because Rexton stood there like an avenging angel.
Rexton was rather disappointed Wickham had heeded his warning. Breaking fingers and then tossing the lord over the balcony had a certain appeal. He wasn’t accustomed to harboring such uncivilized thoughts but when he’d stepped into the hallway and seen the man looming overTillie, Rexton had experienced an irrational urge to do harm—swiftly and with malice. He’d been standing there long enough to hear the cad’s proposal and her rebuffing of it. He wondered if she’d have accepted if the gent weren’t married. Based upon her pale features, he didn’t think so.
“This doesn’t concern you, Rexton,” Wickham had the audacity to spout.
“Afraid it does, old chap. Lady Landsdowne is with me this evening.”
Wickham narrowed his eyes. “Rumor is you’re courting the sister.”
“Miss Hammersley would never forgive me if I allowed anything untoward to happen where Lady Landsdowne is concerned. I heard her ask you politely to leave off. If you’re wise, you’ll return to your box... and your wife.”
“Or you’ll break my fingers?”
He grinned slowly, confidently. “With enthusiasm.”
“There’s still the street in you.”
“Insult my mother and I’ll break your jaw.”
Wickham spun on his heel, marched down the hallway, and disappeared into his box. Rexton heard Lady Landsdowne’s breath come out on a rush as though she’d been holding it.
“Would you really have broken his fingers?” she asked, her brow pleated, her gaze on his.
“I don’t make threats idly.”
She bobbed her head. “Thank you for that then.”
She made a move toward the entrance to his box. Curling his hand over her shoulder, he wished he wasn’t wearing gloves, wished he could feel the silkiness of her flesh against the roughness of his palm. “You should take a moment to gather yourself.”
