The Viscount's Wicked Ways

by Anne Mallory

  A number of things were finally explained to her satisfaction. Mr. Tecking’s fit was obvious, he had seen them in the rose garden. Just as she had observed the day before—the windows in his room faced the gardens. She wondered if that hadn’t been Mrs. Tecking’s plan all the while.

  Patience had to decide what to tell Thomas. She chewed her lip. It was obvious Mrs. Tecking had been using Henry in her own way to show her dissatisfaction with her marriage. And Mrs. Tecking had saved her. She must have gone straight from the building to write Thomas the note. No, she would make sure that Mrs. Tecking was not punished. It seemed she had already punished herself enough anyway.

  “Patience?”

  Speak of the devil. “Good morning, Thomas.”

  He sauntered into the room, but there was an air of alertness that belied his lazy gait. “You practically ran from the dining hall. Everything all right?”

  “Yes. No. Oh, close the door please, will you?”

  He raised a brow, but did as she commanded. “Eager to spend more time alone with me?”

  She glared. “I know who sent you the note. I know the identity of the woman.”

  His gaze sharpened. “Who?”

  “Mrs. Tecking.”

  His eyes were blank, much like she expected hers had been when she had realized it.

  “Mrs. Tecking?”

  “Yes.” She sighed and repeated the tale, emphasizing the positive parts Mrs. Tecking had played in her rescue.

  Thomas looked thoughtful. “That makes sense although something still seems strange. Henry and Mrs. Tecking couldn’t be behind all of the problems.”

  Patience shrugged helplessly. “Probably not, but we are better off now than we were yesterday, right?”

  He smiled and pulled her into his arms, resting his chin on top of her head. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better. When did you leave last night?”

  “Just before dawn. I heard there was quite a commotion in there this morning.”

  She grimaced. “I thought Tilly had discovered you and was going to bring the entire castle to my door to discover you as well.”

  He chuckled, the vibrations heading straight to her toes. “I came to ask if you would like to go riding. Perhaps examine the abbey gatehouse?”

  She sighed and pulled back a bit. “I would love to, Thomas, but I’m behind. I need to get the remaining pieces cataloged before the last shipment is sent.”

  His gaze darkened minutely as he opened the door. “I’ll see you later then.”

  His withdrawal was abrupt. Confusion rushed through her, as he nodded stiffly and walked through the door.

  What the devil was the matter with him now?

  Thomas was quiet at dinner that night. And he slipped away afterward without speaking to her. She continued to work, trying to make up for the days she had spent with Thomas or the hours recovering from the attacks. Before she knew it the hall clock was chiming midnight and Thomas still had not appeared. Tired from the long night, she prepared for bed, lulled to sleep by the sounds coming from the inventors.

  The pattern the next day was much the same, Thomas seemed to be avoiding her. His behavior had become unnerving. Now that the female suspect was uncovered, had her usefulness run out? Irritated and more than a little worried, she decided to beard the lion in his den.

  Finishing her work early and figuring she had given him enough time to retire to his study, she set out. She knocked lightly on the door and was rewarded with a deep, warm tone telling her to enter. He looked slightly surprised to see her, but covered it with a smirk.

  “Wandering around again, Miss Harrington?”

  He was partially dressed, wearing only a shirt, open at the collar, trousers, and boots. His boots were crossed on one of the tables as he lounged in a chair. She pushed aside her response to the sight and pursed her lips. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  His face was unreadable. “Don’t you mean that you’ve been avoiding me?”

  “No.”

  “You didn’t come here last night.”

  “Well, neither did you seek me out,” she said pointedly.

  “You said you needed to work. That you were too busy.”

  “You could have stopped by.”

  He lifted a brow. “And so could have you.”

  “All right, fine.”

  His feet dropped from the table. He rose and walked around her, trailing a hand across her shoulders, around her collarbone and up to caress her chin. “So why did you seek me out tonight, dear Patience?” His voice spoke of sin and dark promises. She shivered.

  “I thought we could talk.”

  He whispered against her neck as he pressed hot kisses against her skin. “What did you want to talk about?”

  “You looked upset with me before you left yesterday. Were you angry that I didn’t accept your picnic offering?”

  He continued the melting kisses, and her head tilted back of its own volition.

  “No,” he answered.

  “So, it was something else?”

  “Mmmm.”

  “What?”

  He pulled back. “For every question you ask, you lose an article of clothing.” He pulled the pins from her hair and then sank to the floor, pushing her lightly into a deep leather chair. He removed her slippers, then reached up to untie her stockings. The silky material caressed her skin as he carefully removed each one.

  “But that was five things you removed,” she said, breathlessly.

  He trailed his finger over her calves. “Ah, but things in pairs count as one item.”

  “Are you going to answer my questions?”

  He slithered, there was no other word, up her body and reached behind her. Deft fingers moved over the buttons. His mouth was near her ear, but he did nothing as his fingers worked. The wait was almost more unbearable than his ministrations.

  He pulled the last one free and slowly pulled her gown down her arms. “I may.”

  “Good to know.”

  He raised a brow. “Not interested in finding answers?”

  She felt bold all of a sudden and unbuttoned his shirt. “Fair is fair, after all.”

  “Oh, I definitely believe in equality,” he said as he latched on to her neck.

  She barely pushed his shirt from his shoulders as her head dropped back onto the chair.

  A number of questions dancing around the subject of why he had been upset left her with only her corset and shift still attached and her dress half-on. He was down to only his trousers, and they had already been unfastened.

  “Did you talk with Mrs. Tecking?”

  He suddenly shifted their positions, scooping her up, seating himself in the chair, and depositing her on his lap so she was straddling him. Her eyes opened wide, but he picked up one of her half curls and twirled it around his finger.

  “Yes. She helped more than I thought she would. A maid, Jenny, claims Henry seduced her into helping him as well.”

  She cocked her head. She would bet a tuppence that it was the same maid named Jenny that always lurked about. “But you don’t think that is the end?”

  He pulled her forward so her forehead rested against his chest, and began unlacing her corset. “No. But then again, there will never be an end. Merely new players.”

  His voice was tight. She allowed him to finish with the laces before pulling back to look him in the eye. “You think it is one of your own people, don’t you?”

  He didn’t answer, instead capturing her lips in a heated kiss and discarding her corset to the floor.

  “I hope you remembered to lock the door.”

  She stiffened and started to wiggle from his lap. He chuckled and held her in place. “Oh, no, Patience. This is what happens when you don’t plan ahead.”

  She started to argue, but he leaned down and licked her breast. Gasping, she allowed him to pull her closer as he devoured her like a dessert. She pressed into him, and he scooted a bit in the chair. Her dress pooled around them, hiding their
laps, but their upper bodies were bared to anyone who opened the door.

  The thought had barely crossed her mind when he leaned back in the chair and his hand reached under the pooled silk and caressed her thigh before traveling north. Already well acquainted with his talented fingers after their two previous indiscretions, she felt them work their magic. Her bare legs rubbed against the supple leather of the chair as his fingers established a rhythm within her body.

  His eyes were lazy, but the fondness in them was once more present. Instead of a smirk, his mouth pulled into a languid smile.

  “You were upset that our last shipment is almost upon us,” she blurted out, having no idea where the thought had originated.

  His eyes narrowed, and two fingers slipped inside her, causing her breath to catch and her eyes to nearly close. He said nothing, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “Why?”

  He leaned forward and blocked further questions with his mouth. The kisses were hungry, far more demanding than before. His hands were suddenly driving her into a frenzy instead of the slow, subtle seduction he had been intent upon. She found that her body quite liked both. His free hand tangled in her hair at the nape and kept her pressed to him.

  She pressed right back. The hand under her skirt reappeared, and she was being pulled farther forward onto his lap and directly into contact with his bare skin. He had freed himself without completely removing his trousers. She could feel the material along with the slippery leather as she was pulled forward. His hands gripped the small of her back, and he buried his head into her neck, down her throat, and to her breasts.

  The actions were needy, possessive, and wanton. In fact, if someone were to enter the room they would be met with quite a lascivious sight. Her naked breasts, pushed forward as she bent back to allow Thomas better access. Her dress pooled around them, as they moved against each other. His hands pulling her onto him.

  And then he was inside her, and her eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head. He had relinquished her breasts and was looking into her eyes. Into her soul. His eyes were fierce. Fierce with possession and unnamed emotions.

  They set a rhythm, as she learned the dance. It was fast and wild, and she could barely hold on to a single thought. If she didn’t know better, she would say he were a spirit possessing her soul.

  He lifted and pulled her hips down, embedding himself deeper and deeper. With a cry her body pulsed around him and her head fell forward. He followed quickly with a muffled shout, his face buried in her neck.

  As their shudders subsided, he caressed her hair. They stayed like that for minutes or hours, she couldn’t tell. He finally broke the silence. “What makes your work so interesting?”

  “Discovery, story, mystery. What makes yours?”

  He continued to stroke her hair, waiting a bit before answering. “Discovery, innovation, creation.” He paused. “But what is it about your field that creates such obsessive individuals?”

  She leaned back and gave him a pointed look, much as he had given her earlier, before their lovemaking. “I repeat, what makes yours?”

  He smiled faintly, but his face was pensive. “My uncle as good as killed my sister, you know.”

  It was as if he were delivering a report on the weather. She froze, not knowing how to respond.

  “Letty was only four. I was away at Eton, but I came home from school every chance I got. Mother died in labor, and Letty became my world. Father was cold, a taskmaster.” He shrugged. “Like most of his station he expected absolute obedience. But Letty…Letty was a bright light. Too pure for this realm.”

  She ran a hand down his arm. “What happened?”

  “Uncle sent her nurse to retrieve something for him with the understanding that he would watch Letty. He became preoccupied with something in one of his collections, made Letty sit in the blue room—the one with all of the armor and weapons. She got curious and touched a suit of armor. It toppled and fell on top of her. She was knocked unconscious, never woke up, and two days later she was dead.”

  “Oh, Thomas, I’m so sorry.”

  He waved her sympathy aside. “She never should have been in that room. He should have been paying closer attention. Yet he didn’t even pay attention to his own wife. Much like your Mr. Tecking, really.” He gazed into the fire. “I never forgave him.”

  She swallowed. “I can understand why you’d be upset with him, but it sounds like a terrible accident. Surely your uncle was distraught?”

  He laughed unpleasantly. “He couldn’t have cared less about my sister. He holed himself up even more once he had her out of the way. She used to follow him around when I wasn’t there. Drove him mad.”

  There was an underlying tension to his words. She remembered her parting shot about rumors a week ago and wanted to kick herself. “Surely you don’t blame yourself for not being there to prevent her death?”

  He gave her a bleak smile. “For years I did. I should have known better than to trust her care to a man whose sole interest was his hobby.”

  Panic whipped through her languid body at the unspoken words. “But you said Letty had a nurse. And your aunt and father were around as well. It was just a tragic accident, Thomas.”

  His dark mask was back in place, but now that she knew what had caused his pain, she was helpless as to how to heal it.

  “Not all antiquarians are like your uncle, Thomas.”

  He didn’t respond.

  “Your line of work produces people who can become just as obsessive as mine. It isn’t the work, it is the individual and how he deals with his interests.”

  He gave her a brief, searing kiss, and tucked her head under his chin. “Of course, that’s true, Patience.”

  She gritted her teeth in frustration, yet worry filled her breast. Now she knew why he had reacted so badly that first night to finding out she was an antiquarian.

  “Thomas, it’s not fair for you to tar me with the same brush just because I enjoy and work with antiquities. It’s the same thing as believing rumors. I don’t believe the things that some of your peers have said about you.”

  “They are only words, Patience.”

  “Words hurt, Thomas. No matter how hard you try to convince yourself otherwise, words do hurt. I thought you trusted me. But perhaps it is yourself you don’t trust. What do you fear?”

  He stiffened but said nothing. Patience wasn’t sure if it was a good or bad omen.

  Chapter 21

  The next morning dawned gray to match her mood. Slipping into the dining room last, she tucked into her food with barely a good morning.

  “Good news, Patience.”

  She looked at John, who was grinning broadly.

  “We received word from your father today that there are two new commissions. The Burberry and Crouch estates.”

  A part of her rejoiced at the new work and opportunities for the museum. “That’s wonderful. The Burberrys are supposed to have an excellent Egyptian collection.”

  He nodded happily. “And the Crouches were very interested in medieval weaponry. There will be enough work to last the next half year at least.”

  Patience couldn’t help herself, and she stole a glance at Thomas. His face was set in stone, his eyes on his plate.

  She sent John a strained smile. “Excellent.”

  Thomas abruptly excused himself, and Patience was left staring at her plate, fighting back the tears. It was bad enough trying to think of ways to argue against Thomas’s irrational view on antiquarians and obsession. It was worse when confronted with a genuine problem. And here she was acting like they had an understanding, had made some sort of commitment. When truly again there had been no promises.

  Patience dragged herself through the morning tasks, finishing the final pieces and readying them for transport the next morning. They were then scheduled to stay the weekend at the castle and leave Monday. Truthfully, she didn’t know what would be more painful. Staying at the castle with nothing to do but think of Thomas or leaving
the castle and Thomas behind.

  Having no appetite, she worked straight through, barely noticing the concerned glances one of the maids sent her way.

  So it was with some large part of surprise that she found herself looking up to see Caroline hovering above her, arms akimbo in a militant gesture.

  “Patience Harrington, you will eat.”

  It took no small amount of will to keep her jaw from dropping, but she did stand up and allow Caroline to steer her to the small table and chairs at the side of the room, where a plate of fruit lay.

  No sooner had she taken a bite of a strawberry, then Caroline said, “What is the relationship between you and Thomas?”

  Choking on her strawberry, Patience grabbed her water glass and swallowed. “What?”

  “You and Thomas. He’s been stalking about yelling at the staff and being a veritable bear. And you look like someone kicked your favorite poodle.”

  Patience looked down. “We had a disagreement.”

  “Well, obviously. What about?”

  Patience gripped her skirt, and decided to take the plunge. “About your husband and antiquarian obsessions.”

  Caroline wilted in her chair and heaved a sigh. “What did he tell you?”

  Patience summarized their conversation.

  Caroline sighed again. “My husband loved that little girl. He always complained and scowled, but he would leave sweets around and conveniently have toys for her to play with.”

  “What happened then?”

  “It was an accident, Patience.” She closed her eyes. “A terrible one for all of us. George simply withdrew. He didn’t know how to handle it. He blamed himself as much for the accident as Thomas blamed him. He threw himself into his studies and collecting and ignored all else.”

  Patience saw the pain in her eyes.

  “Thomas did the same, but he took a different path. I’ve seen more of the old Thomas in the last few weeks than I have in the last ten years. And it’s because of you, Patience.”

  Patience looked at her hands, and Caroline took one into her own. “Please don’t give up on him. I don’t know what is between you, but it is good.”

  Patience laughed shakily. “I thought so, too, but you heard John. There is so much work to be done elsewhere, and Thomas has his hands completely full here. I don’t know.” She looked away before meeting Caroline’s gaze again. “And you must understand, Caroline. I don’t know what Thomas wants. He has never told me.”