My Fair Viscount: (The Scandal Sheet Book 4)

by Michaels, Jess

  “Perhaps there is a certain silliness to it,” she admitted slowly. “But it is still what is expected.”

  “God forbid I don’t do that,” he said, and then pushed to his feet in a graceful movement that unfolded long, muscular limbs. He stepped forward and suddenly he was in her space. “But I think you’re capable, Miss Higgins. I want to make that clear.”

  Her breath felt short and she cleared her throat as she tried to ignore the pounding of blood in her veins. “Well, thank you for that. However, I think I would leave that part out of your conversations with ladies.”

  “Too intimate?” he said with an arched brow.

  She almost wanted to laugh at his teasing and barely contained herself. He was testing her, that was all. She couldn’t fail just as he couldn’t or this entire endeavor would go completely out of control.

  “You are…” She swallowed and took a step back. “You are a little too close. A gentleman should maintain a proper distance unless he is dancing with a lady. And even then there are boundaries.”

  He shrugged. “Never gave a damn about those in the past.”

  She cocked her head. “You lived in a world where you didn’t have to. But this is a different world, my lord.”

  “I know,” he said, and a bitterness had entered his tone. “One where I’ll never belong.”

  She stared at him. There was a vulnerability that entered his expression and then departed just as swiftly. In her chest, there was a swell of empathy. Understanding. She had always been outside the world he’d be asked to enter. She knew what rejection was like.

  “That doesn’t have to be true,” she said, stepping toward him, closing the very distance she had claimed she needed for propriety.

  He looked down at her for a beat, a second one, and then he reached out. His hand closed around the notebook she still clutched and he slid it free, his rough fingers gliding across the top of her hand as he did so. She shivered at the stroke of skin on skin, no matter how brief, unintentional and totally wrong it had been.

  “Your list says otherwise,” he said, his tone suddenly lower, rougher. “How many pages did you write about my failings?”

  She swallowed past the sudden thickness in her throat and took the notebook back from him. He relinquished it with no attempt to fight her, but kept his stare evenly on hers.

  “You could see them as shortcomings or as ways to improve yourself,” she said. “And many are not so bad. I promise I can help you. If it’s what you want.”

  “What I want,” he drawled, his gaze flitting from her eyes to her lips and then back again. “You’d give me what I want?”

  Her breath came shorter as the warmth of him curled into her, tempting her in ways she had long ago shrugged aside. Reminding her she was more than a teacher, more than a tool. Reminding her that she was a woman.

  She blinked and spun away. “Perhaps we have done enough for this afternoon. We will meet again at supper.”

  “As you wish,” he said.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder, then strode from the room. But as she exited and headed up the stairs to find the room where her things had been placed, she couldn’t ignore the trembling of her knees. Or the fact that the man she was meant to train was going to be her biggest challenge.

  And her wildest temptation since she had put away all womanly thoughts years ago.

  Chapter 4

  David stepped into the dining room and came to a halt as he stared at the long table before him. Only two places were set, one at the head of the table, the other to the right of it. But the table had been styled as if the king himself were going to be joining the party.

  David had never seen so many plates and forks and knives and glasses in his life. Anxiety gripped him and he hated himself for it. He’d been raised on the street, always watching and waiting for an attack, having to take care of himself since he was barely out of nappies.

  And yet a line of forks made him worry.

  “Bollocks,” he growled.

  “Not exactly a traditional greeting.”

  He turned to find Miss Higgins had entered the dining room behind him. He caught his breath as he stared at her. She wore a pretty new gown, different from the one she had begun with in the parlor earlier in the day. This one was a dark orange, which brought out the glow of her skin and the honey highlights of her hair. Hair that was currently coiled and curled onto the crown of her head. Tendrils teased along the exposed skin around her collarbones, and he suddenly felt a strong desire to slide his hand into those locks and make her come undone in every wicked way possible.

  Her eyes widened a fraction, almost as if she could read his mind, and she stepped around him into the room.

  “Excellent,” she said as she moved to the setting to the right of the head of the table. “This will do very well.”

  “Seems a waste of time and crockery,” he said as he strolled to the head of the table. He supposed that was where she’d say he belonged, as he was viscount now. Not that he felt it. This was a rich man’s house where he didn’t belong, shared blood or not.

  “Now, normally you would begin an evening in the parlor, where you might have a before-supper drink with any guests in your home,” she explained. “It would be small talk, friendly chatter. We’ll work on that more later.”

  “Talkin’ of the weather?” He snorted. “Sounds dull.”

  “It may be,” she said with another tiny smile he felt she was trying and failing to contain. “But it is the way of the world. This world, at any rate.”

  “How do they stand it?” he asked.

  She examined his face closely a moment, perhaps a bit too closely, and then she let out her breath slowly. “I think we all adjust to the way we believe our existence to be. A man raised in this kind of place doesn’t know anything of yours or even mine. If your cousin were thrown into the place he found you, I think he would struggle just as greatly with the norms.”

  David tried to picture Richard down in the hells and smiled. “Wouldn’t make it half an hour.”

  “Unless he accepted help,” she said with special emphasis. “And then one day that place might feel like home to him.”

  “This’ll never be my home,” he said, a bit more sharply than he had intended.

  She let those words hang between them for what felt like forever, then inclined her head and motioned to the chairs. “Shall we?”

  He hesitated, thinking of her words earlier in the parlor. He stood by his chair, watching as a footman seemed to appear by magic and helped her into her place. Only then did David sit.

  She smiled at him. “You see, you can learn.”

  Her soft praise hit him harder than he would have liked to admit. The door behind them swung open and a second footman appeared. He held a tureen of soup in his arms and stepped up between them to wait.

  “In a smaller supper, you would oversee the serving of the soup at your home,” Miss Higgins explained. “But for now we won’t start that way. You likely will not host events at your home for some time and will learn by observing those you do attend. Giles, you may serve.”

  David watched as the young man ladled soup first into Miss Higgins’ bowl, then David’s and exited the room.

  “You learned his name?” he asked. “In the few hours since we last met?”

  She nodded. “Of course. I am hardly above their rank in this instance, and we are working together on your behalf. But you ought to learn the names of those who serve you, too. The best of lords know about the lives of those who serve them. They care about them and do their best for them. They will work hard on your behalf, especially if you treat them well and with respect, and there should be appreciation from you.”

  David shrugged as he stared at the line of cutlery before him. She leaned forward and reached out to point discreetly at the spoon that was laid across the top of the plate where his soup bowl was balanced.

  “This is the right one,” she said.

  He caught it up and to
ok a spoonful of the soup. He couldn’t hold back a moan of pleasure as the creamy, sweet and salty heaven of the mushroom soup burst upon his taste buds.

  “Great God,” he muttered as he took another sip.

  She smothered a smile as she took her first spoonful. “There are some benefits, I think you’ll see, to being viscount, including access to the best cooks and chefs in the country. This is divine.”

  He grunted a response before he finished the bowl in a few swipes of the spoon. He looked around, but the footman had not returned. “How do I get more?” he asked.

  She was staring at him, unblinking, and then shook her head. “Er, you don’t. One is meant to take his time eating, savor it, and then the next course will be brought out.”

  He pursed his lips. In an alehouse, he would have sopped that soup up with bread and had as much as he liked. Now he had an empty bowl and a feeling that perhaps he wasn’t quite as intelligent as his cousin and Miss Higgins kept claiming.

  He watched as she slowly finished her own soup, responding awkwardly to her comments about the weather and the news of the day. Small talk truly was foolish. Finally, the servant reappeared and took the empty bowls away. He returned a moment later with the next course.

  “The cutlery gets easier,” she said as a plate was set before him, piled high with meats, roasted vegetables and bread. “Now you go from the outside to the inside.”

  She indicated to him and he took a long breath before he dug in. For nearly an hour, they proceeded like that. Him eating what seemed like a never-ending flow of delicious food, her correcting him at every turn, whether it be which fork to use, to slow down in his eating or not to use his knife as anything but a divider, rather than as a shovel to his mouth.

  At last one of the footmen set a plate of fruits and nuts before him, signaling the end of the meal. David flopped back in his chair with a sigh.

  “That was bollocks,” he said. “We had enough food to feed three families.”

  She shrugged her shoulders slightly. “Yes, those of rank do love their extravagant meals. Here we only had five courses. In a more elaborate setting, you might have almost twenty.”

  He tossed his napkin on the tabletop. “Waste.”

  There was a moment of hesitation and then she let out her breath. “I…cannot…disagree with that assessment,” she said slowly, almost reluctantly.

  “You? Say a word against those of rank?” He grinned. “Careful.”

  She pursed her lips. “I am not protective of the foibles of those above me in station, I assure you. But I must make my living and this is the best way for a lady to do so. We have few options, as you must know, no matter how far outside this world you were raised.”

  He flinched as he thought of the ways his own mother had made her living over the years. “Can’t argue with you there,” he said with a tip of his wineglass before he finished it in one swig.

  She leaned forward and set her elbows on the table, just as she had been correcting him not to do all night. Her green eyes flitted over his face, reading him, though he did not think judging him, probably for the first time since they met. He found himself wondering what her thoughts were.

  And then she shared them.

  “You are a difficult creature to understand, my lord,” she said softly.

  He tensed. “I’m simple as rain.”

  “No.” She shook her head slowly. “You pretend to be, but you’re not. There are a dozen questions that pop into my mind when I look at you.”

  He set his jaw. He didn’t like the idea of questions. His life had been spent avoiding them, keeping his cards close to the vest. And yet her curiosity did pique his own. This woman affected him. And he knew, from her blushes and little smiles, that she wasn’t immune to him. So maybe he could use that against her. At least have a little fun while he was at it.

  “I thought we weren’t supposed to talk about personal things,” he retorted, folding his arms. “Or put our elbows on the table.”

  She jerked her arms down and blushed, but she smiled despite it. She really was very pretty when she smiled. So much less proper and severe. Like there was a person beneath the headmistress.

  “True,” she said. “I did tell you those things. But now I wonder if that was the right course. After all, if I understand you better, then it follows I will be more able to help you.”

  “If you get to ask your questions, then I get to ask mine.”

  Her eyes went wide and she worried her lip for a moment, drawing his attention to how full it was. “A quid pro quo?” she asked.

  He wrinkled his brow. “Don’t know what that is.”

  “If I ask something, you get to do the same.”

  He smiled. “Then yes.”

  Her hesitation was clear from her expression to the way her hands shook. And she was all the better for it. He knew the kind of questions he would ask her. The kind of seduction he wanted to play at, because he knew he was good at it. Right now he needed something he was good at since he was out of his depth in every other way.

  And if he tried to seduce her, he had a feeling he just might succeed. And what would that do?

  At last she nodded. “Very well. Then let us begin.”

  Rose could hardly breathe as she stared at the very handsome man who was now leaning toward her, his eyes lit with interest that could not be pretended away. Not interest in her history or her story, though there might be a little of that. No, this man had interest in her…her body. Her mouth, if his continued stares in that direction were any indication.

  That should have put her off. Scared her. Only it didn’t.

  As for the agreement she had just made with him, well, that did scare her. She had never, not in all the past five years, revealed anything personal about herself to a client. Oh, of course there were sometimes questions regarding her pedigree or her past when it came to her references. But she kept a distance with the young ladies she taught.

  And none of them were half so dangerous as this man.

  “I’ll begin,” she said before he could ask her some question that would send her spiraling. “Why have you taken on this role as viscount?”

  He lifted his brows as if the query was a foolish one, and perhaps it was. She knew the first reason he’d give was money, he’d said as much when they first met.

  “I ask,” she continued, “because it doesn’t seem…you.”

  “It’s not,” he said swiftly. “You’ve figured that out after half a day tryin’ to bring me in line.”

  “So why?” she asked.

  He shifted in his chair. Clearly revelation was no more comfortable to him than it was to her. She supposed it wasn’t, based on what little she knew about his past. His origins. After a few moments had gone by, she expected that he would tell her to sod off, though perhaps with even more colorful language.

  But at last he opened his mouth to speak. “Some of my past is known to those fops, to you,” he said.

  She nodded. “I know your cousin found you in the hells.”

  “I lived as a man does,” he said. “As a man can who was raised on the street, by the street. I know tricks that’d make your cheeks glow red if you heard them.”

  Her cheeks did just that as she pictured this man and his wicked ways. And not just the ones that got him money. “You were successful in that realm,” she said.

  He nodded. “I did all right. Lived high on the hog.”

  “Then why walk away? Why come to this world you obviously think so little of?”

  “When Richard showed up, my first thought was how to steal his blunt,” David said with a shake of his head. “And then he started tell me his story. About what he found when it came to my mother and father. About me. About what I was owed. I told him to sod off, thought he was shit.”

  “How did he convince you otherwise?”

  “He had papers,” he said. “Asked me if I could read.”

  “And you can.”

  He arched a brow. “Yes. I can r
ead. My ma didn’t do much else for me, but she had books and I read ’em. I could see what he told me was true. And then he started talkin’ about the money that came with the title. How could I refuse?”

  She held his stare for a moment. “I feel like there’s more to it than that.”

  “My turn,” he said, his voice suddenly rough.

  She tensed. “Very well. What do you want to know?”

  “Why won’t you tell me your name?” he asked.

  She jolted at the question, which was seemingly simple and yet deceptively complicated. And he knew it. Somehow he knew that. She could see it in his stare, the way he held his body.

  “I told you,” she croaked out.

  “Yes, properness.”

  “Propriety,” she corrected.

  “Very well, teacher, whatever word you like,” he said. “But if you want truth from me, you’d best start givin’ it in return. Why?”

  “I am a woman providing for myself in a world full of men who would take advantage,” she said softly. “Who…have taken advantage. If I want to survive, I must cloak myself in armor. Mine is the shield of propriety. I give you my name and you’ll want something more.”

  He scooted forward in his chair and his lips quirked in half a smile. “I already want somethin’ more, Miss Higgins.”

  Her breath caught in her throat at the direct reference to the chemistry that was somehow so easy between them. She didn’t want that. Didn’t want to be drawn to his man and his smiles and charisma. That was too dangerous.

  He shrugged. “But I’m an honest thief.”

  She wrinkled her brow. “An honest thief?”

  “I’m not a fop who comes with lies and false promises as his weapons. I steal money and property, not somethin’ that can’t be replaced. And I’d rather convince you to give it to me than to take it out of hand.”

  She swallowed hard. They both knew what he was referring to. Which meant he could see her, see even more than she’d said. That was infinitely dangerous.

  “Rose,” she whispered even though she shouldn’t. “My name is Rose.”