Free Pursued By The Viscount by Carole Mortimer Page B

his eyes as he saw the signature of the Walkers’ butler at the bottom of the page.
    “Her ladyship is not receiving visitors today,” Rachel’s butler informed Lucien when Lucien stood on her doorstep minutes later.
    Lucien’s mouth thinned. “Nevertheless, you will give her my card.” He had come prepared for an occurrence such as this, carefully placing the card facedown on the tray, where he had written his brief message. “I will wait outside for Lady Shaw’s response.” He was in no mood to be shut in the confines of the entrance hall of Rachel’s home and preferred to do his pacing outside in the brisk October air.
    He did not have to wait long for Rachel’s answer. The butler opened the door again a minute or so later before showing him to the same salon as yesterday.
    Rachel arrived a few minutes later, brown eyes appearing huge in the pallor of her face. The pale gold color of her silk gown gave her shoulders and throat a rich and creamy appearance. “You wished to speak with me, my lord?” She was obviously ill at ease as she crossed the room to stand in front of the window. The sun shining in behind her turned her hair the color of spun gold, at the same time making it more difficult for Lucien to read the expression on her face.
    But he had seen enough to know she had read the name he had written on the back of his calling card. “Sir Nigel Stanforth.” It was a statement and not a question.
    Rachel swallowed her feelings of panic, unsure of how much Lucien knew. “He is the nephew of the Prime Minister’s close friend the Duke of Banbury, is he not?”
    Piercing blue eyes narrowed to steely slits. “He is also your blackmailer.”
    “I barely know the gentleman,” she dismissed, while inwardly she trembled and quaked at Lucien knowing so much.
    How did he know was the question she asked herself. Was it possible Stanforth had visited Lucien after leaving here this morning? That he had regaled the other man with tales of her scandalous behavior and used her letters to him as proof?
    It had hurt her deeply to write that letter to Lucien earlier, in which she had ended their friendship. But she had done it anyway, knowing she had no choice. That Stanforth was giving her no other choice. Once the deed was done, she had retired to her bedchamber with a sick headache.
    The last thing she had expected was that Lucien would come to Shaw House and demand to see her.
    Or that he would somehow know the name of her blackmailer…
    “That is a lie, Rachel, and I do not like to be lied to,” he told her coldly.
    “I—”
    “Or to be taken for a fool,” he continued.
    “I would never—”
    “You did. You still are,” he added disgustedly. “I had believed we parted as friends last night. We had arrangements to meet again this evening.”
    “I explained in my letter why that is no longer possible—”
    “You explained nothing.” Brooketon was suddenly standing much too close to her. “Has Stanforth been here?” He sniffed the air. “I seem to detect the unpleasant stench of his cologne.”
    Rachel had instructed Alder to open the windows and air the room after Stanforth’s departure, but it had obviously not succeeded in dispelling it completely. “Of course not. Why on earth would you even think such a— Lucien!” The crying out of his name was half-surprise half-protest as he gathered her up into his arms. “What on earth are you doing?” she said vehemently as he sat on the sofa with her still held securely in his tight embrace.
    “Did Shaw ever spank your bottom?” he bit out between gritted teeth.
    “He preferred to use his fists.”
    “Good.”
    “Good? But—”
    “Understand this is not physical abuse, and it gives me no satisfaction whatsoever.”
    “Wh— Lucien! ” His name was almost a screech as he turned her and then placed her so that she was lying across his thighs. “What on earth are you doing?” She fought to break free of Lucien’s restraining hand in the