Free Romancing the Countess by Ashley March

laughter drifting through the town house. The way he used to watch his wife with such love and tenderness, oblivious to the looks passed between Angela and Ian. The delight on his face when he paraded Henry in front of guests, and his pride when Henry first gave Leah a short, distracted imitation of a bow in exchange for her curtsy.
    They’d both been changed by the betrayal. Leah liked to think she’d learned her lesson and though the pain was still great, had become the better for it. Perhaps she could exercise her independence without making him suffer; perhaps, in her defiance, she could somehow help him.
    Sighing, she retraced her steps until she stood only a few stairs above him, a slight advantage which placed them eye to eye. “I know you wouldn’t be here if not for your fear that I might incite gossip about Ian and Angela. I know you’d prefer that I send everyone home, and then you could return to the misery you’ve created for yourself the last few months. But if you could consider this house party as a chance to enjoy life again, if you would allow me to help you, you would understand why I decided to—”
    “I do not need your help,” he growled.
    She shouldn’t have said anything. She’d known he wouldn’t welcome her interference, and yet still she’d done it anyway. “Perhaps not, but . . .”
    She faltered as his gaze flickered over her face, animosity flaring in his eyes. “Is this how he was with you?” he asked.
    Leah frowned. “I—I’m not sure what you mean.”
    “Ian. Was he patronizing? Did he treat you like a child?” The words were spoken softly, sorrowfully, as if he were the one who pitied her. She stood silent, uncertain where his questioning might lead, unable to look away from the ruthless curve of his mouth.
    “My poor Mrs. George,” he murmured, lifting his hand to brush the backs of his fingers across her cheek.
    She knew he meant it as a mockery of her earlier gesture, but the slide of his leather glove across her skin felt too much like a caress, and she could no more halt the blush that rose to enflame her face than she could retreat from his touch.
    His hand stilled along the line of her jaw and he tilted her chin up. Only the challenge in his eyes kept her from snapping at his fingers.
    “You were always his quiet little shadow, weren’t you? Content to echo Ian’s every word and movement. And I see you’ve studied him well, although your attempt at mimicry is somewhat tedious. I am not a child, Mrs. George. I do not need your help.”
    “I assure you, my lord, it isn’t my intent to act condescending. If it weren’t for the circumstances of Ian’s death, I wouldn’t have anything to do with you at all. In fact, I believe it might be best if you leave. Your presence here is neither required nor desired.”
    And he could go rot in hell, for all she cared.
    Wriothesly returned his hand to his side. “Alas, leaving you alone is no longer an option. And do not think to send the guests home, either. Doing so now would only cause more gossip. The party will continue, and with the least amount of scandal.”
    “You believe you can control me,” she said, crossing her arms, then uncrossing them because it felt like something a little girl would do. How had he taken the power away from her so easily?
    He edged around her skirts and began climbing the stairs. “No, madam. I will control you, by whatever means necessary.”
    Leah stared at the vase of pansies on the table across from the staircase, her fingers slowly uncurling from the fists she’d formed. No matter how deeply she breathed, she couldn’t seem to steady herself. A movement caught her attention by the door, and she turned to find a footman standing near the earl’s valises, waiting for her direction.
    “You may take his lordship’s things to the blue room,” she said, although she was far more inclined to order them destroyed.
    She then returned to the drawing room, glancing neither right nor