Excerpt: Tempering the Viscount’s Envy

Excerpt from Chapter Two

The doors to the church burst open and a deep voice shouted, “Who are ye and what have ye done to Lady Calliope?”

Viscount William Chattsworth tightened his hold on Lady Harrington and met the angry intruder’s stare with one of his own. “Who the devil wants to know?” he demanded.

The man strode to where William stood with the limp lady in his arms. Was the lady ill? Was this man her husband? He studied the light-haired man with the piercing green eyes dressed in unrelieved black but refused to back down until he knew who he was addressing.

“Lady Aurelia,” the man said, turning toward her. “Are ye hurt?”

She shook her head in answer, looking as if she were afraid. Bloody hell! Was the man a known rotter? A scoundrel?

Beyond irritated that the man demanding answers had yet to deign to answer his question, William stepped in front of Lady Aurelia, noting that Lady Calliope stirred in his arms. “I shall see that my cousins, Earl Lippincott and the Duke of Wyndmere, have you put behind bars for harassing these two fair ladies.”

The man turned to stare at William, with an odd look on his face and recognition in his eyes. “So that be the way of it,” he said at last.

“The way of what?” William heard the sharp intake of breath and looked down at the woman in his arms. Her skin was the color of fresh cream with a hint of color gracing her cheekbones once more. Her gray eyes and honey-blonde hair added to her air of quiet beauty. Distracted, he didn’t realize the man had stepped close enough to place his hand on William’s shoulder.

He jolted and damned himself for losing his concentration and, with it, the ability to protect the two women who had yet to explain why they were without escort miles from home at this early hour.

“Lady Calliope?” the man called softly.

Her eyes fluttered open and she rasped, “Patrick! What are you doing here?”

“I have a mind to ask ye the same, yer ladyship,” he grumbled before frowning at William. “Why have ye not set her down yet?” he demanded.

“Until I know more than your first name, Patrick,” he growled, “I shall not release her, nor will I allow Lady Coddington to step from behind me.”

Patrick’s green eyes shone with a touch of devilment. “And how do ye plan to protect either of them with yer hands full?”

Blast! Good point and hard to answer without risking a heavy blow to his pride. He shifted the lady he held, setting her on her feet while keeping her tucked flush against his side. For a moment, he could swear he felt her heartbeat against him before he shifted her behind him to join her friend. “I’ve no weapon,” William declared. “But I warn you, I excel at bare knuckle fighting.”

The other man slowly smiled. “Well now, I’d welcome a chance to have a go at ye, but I’ve promised His Grace to bring their ladyships home without delay.”

Aurelia groaned. “Jared knows we left?”

“Sure and it’s me job to see to yer protection, yer ladyship. Did ye think after everythin’ that’s happened in the last year, the duke or the earl would let ye off the grounds without someone followin’ behind ye?”

“You are acquainted with my cousins?”

“Aye. And as to that, might I inquire as to yer name?”

William knew when he’d come up against a man more stubborn than himself. Patrick was that man. “Name’s Chattsworth. Viscount William Chattsworth.”

“I’ve heard His Grace mention ye were expected. Didn’t know ye’d be arrivin’ before breakfast, though.”

With that, Patrick sighed and said, “Yer ladyships can come out from behind yer protector. I’ve promised to return ye to Wyndmere Hall. And as yer intended told me, I’d best be quick about it.”

Aurelia was the first to leave her sanctuary. “Was Edward overset?”

Patrick’s face lost all expression as he replied, “Ye could say that.”

“Oh, dear,” Calliope whispered. “Was Lord Coddington awake when you left?”

Aurelia laughed. “I thought you’d been living with us long enough to realize Uncle Phineas doesn’t rise before the sun—ever!”

Calliope blew out a breath. “True. I must confess I was concerned we’d have to listen to another lecture from your uncle, your intended, or the duke.”

“Edward may be vexed with me,” Aurelia admitted, “but not quite as upset as the duke may be.”

“Rest assured, yer ladyships, both the earl and the duke are more than a bit vexed, as ye put it.”

They fell silent.

“I daresay, I could use a cup of tea and my horse a warm stable with a cupful of oats.”

Patrick’s gaze met his. “If ye’ll follow me, yer lordship, I’m certain sure His Grace or his lordship the earl will see to both.” He paused before adding, “Name’s O’Malley. Head of His Grace’s personal guard.”

“O’Malley,” William said slowly, committing the name to memory. “Thank you for your diligence and duty regarding Lady Coddington and Lady Harrington.”

He nodded. “Ye’re welcome. Let’s be off now. The duke will be hot on me heels if I don’t bring ye back immediately.”

The viscount wondered why the duke was so protective of the ladies. Well, of course his cousin, Edward, would be of his intended, but why was he so concerned with her friend as well? Was there more to the on dits circling the ton as to the enemies of the duke? There was a bit of mystery to be solved here and while he loved nothing better, he already had a mystery he hadn’t solved—the disappearance of his father.

While he loved solving mysteries, a chance to use his skill bare knuckle fighting with the big man striding toward the door to hold it open for Lady Coddington and Lady Harrington held great appeal. He cracked his knuckles and noted the gleam of anticipation in O’Malley’s eyes. Aye, he’d be testing his mettle against the head of his cousin’s personal guard before returning home.

A glance at the wand-slim woman smiling at O’Malley as she and her friend walked through the door that the guard held open for them had him wondering again if she had an intended. Bloody hell! Did she have a husband?

He’d come to Wyndmere Hall at the behest of his cousin, the duke, in answer to his request for an audience. Best lend his full concentration on the more urgent matter at hand—refilling his family’s coffers so he could woo and win an heiress. A highborn lady to grace his table, greet his guests, and warm his bed with but one thought in mind—begetting an heir to carry on the Chattsworth name.

Lady Harrington was a distraction he could ill afford. Best to steer clear of her. Her lilting laughter had him drawing in a breath at the sound. It reminded him of the faerie chimes his mother used to tell him tales of when he was young.

“Distraction,” he mumbled aloud.

O’Malley’s gaze met his. “Problem, yer lordship?”

“Not at all, O’Malley,” he replied. “Lead the way, and I’ll bring up the rear.”

The nod of approval from his cousin’s guard had him moving with purpose for the first time since his father’s death. He had a plan and knew how to accomplish that plan, with the duke’s help.

Lord, let the man be willing to lend it to me, Chattsworth silently prayed.

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