Free Viscount Vagabond by Loretta Chase Page A

you,” the countess added fondly as she admired her husband’s wavy black hair and classically sculpted features.
    “Her father had a crowd of his cronies rampaging about the place. To her I think we were all one noisy, unwanted crowd. Besides, she kept her eyes on her papa. I found her intriguing. She behaved as she did tonight, stiffly proper and courteous, but with that wild, pent-up look in her eyes. I was waiting for her to explode. She never did, though her papa was provoking enough.”
    “Apparently, he has provoked her at last.”
    “Yes. I’m not surprised he wants to marry her to one of his loutish friends, if his behaviour that day was typical. Still, I know little enough about them. In fact, it’s only because my dear mama pointed out Pelliston’s wedding announcement in the paper that I made the connection. He and his doings were already in my mind when I met the girl tonight.”
    “If her papa is the ogre he sounds, I can understand the false name,” said Louisa, “but then why is she so adamant about returning home?”
    “We needn’t understand everything this minute. Tomorrow you can tactfully explain that we know all. I’ll write her father.”
    “To say what?”
    “Why, that you wish to bring my cousin out. Since fate— or your brother, actually—has dropped her upon our doorstep, we might as well keep her. I am not blind, Louisa. You are itching to get your hands on the girl. Potential there, you think?”
    “Oh, yes. How convenient that she’s a relation, however distant. My motives will seem of the purest. How considerate of Max, don’t you think, darling?”

Chapter Six
    Lord Rand eyed with distaste the murky liquid in the glass his valet offered him. “What’s that filthy mess? You don’t mean me to drink it?”
    “I highly recommend it, My Lord. Guaranteed to eliminate the aftereffects.”
    Either the aftereffects or the cure would kill him, the viscount was certain. He groped for the glass, brought it to his lips, held his nose, and drank.
    “Ugh,” he croaked. “That’s the vilest tasting stuff I ever swallowed in my life.”
    “Yes, My Lord, I’m afraid so. However, I thought you would require a prompt-acting restorative, as the Countess of Andover has sent a message requesting your immediate attendance.”
    “She can go to blazes,” his lordship groaned, sinking back onto his pillow.
    “She sent this,” the valet said, holding up a note.
    Lord Rand shut his eyes. ‘Tell me what it says.”
    Blackwood unfolded the sheet of paper and read aloud: “The cat has bolted. Please come at once.’“
    The viscount let loose a stream of colourful oaths while his valet busied himself with arranging shaving materials.
    “Yes, indeed, sir,” Blackwood agreed, when his master stopped to catch his breath. “Your bath is ready, and I have laid out the brown coat and fawn pantaloons.”
    Not long after, Lord Rand stormed unannounced into the breakfast room of Andover House, where the earl and countess sat, their heads bent close together as they perused what appeared to be a very long epistle.
    “There you are, Max,” Lord Andover said, looking up with a faint frown. “Seems our guest has fled. Apparently,” he went on calmly, oblivious to the thunderclouds gathering upon his brother-in-law’s brow, “she slipped out shortly after Jeffers unlocked the doors—before the rest of the household was up.”
    “Then why the devil ain’t you out looking for her?”
    “Because we were waiting for you,” Lady Andover answered. “Edgar has already dispatched nearly all the menservants to comb the streets, so there is no need to stand there scowling. Do sit down, Max. Perhaps you can help. We were rereading her note in hopes of discovering some clue as to where she’s gone.”
    Lord Rand snatched up the letter and read it; “Oh, the bloody little fool,” he muttered when he’d finished.
    “I do wish you’d speak more respectfully of my relations,” said the earl.