Page 94 of How the Earl Entices

Of course, she’d also left Spalding House because she couldn’t bear the stares of the servants. Including Watkins and Mrs. Mabry. Oh, they were certainly all very nice and attentive to her—although she suspected that Kit’s private conversation with the butler and housekeeper might have been the reason—and the stares they gave her were more curious than gawking.

Yet they still stared. After ten years in Sea Haven, where no one paid her any mind, to have that kind of concentrated attention made her extremely uneasy. So did their obvious curiosity about why she, someone dressed no better than the woman who sold fish in the market, should be given such special treatment.

“But I’m a viscountess,” she whispered to herself, so softly that the words barely registered to her own ears. That was her marriage right, and nothing could take that away from her. Not Vincent, not David’s death, not ten years of hiding. Yet speaking it aloud, even now that she was on the verge of regaining that old life, still felt foreign. And dangerous.

She pulled on the satin dressing gown she’d found in the armoire, most likely left there by one of Ellsworth’s mistresses. Her lips twisted into a knowing smile. Italian paramours, indeed! One day, she and the Marquess of Ellsworth would have a good long laugh over the ambassador’s masquerade and her role as the contessa.

“I am a viscountess,” she repeated to herself, this time slightly louder and with more confidence, as she reached for a bite of food from the little basket Mrs. Mabry had insisted she take with her. She popped the strawberry into her mouth and stifled a laugh, her hand going to her lips.

What would Ross think if he could see her like this, so carefree and happy? Her laugh faded into a blissful sigh.

He cared about her, even after he’d discovered her real identity, even after he’d learned the truth of her past. One month ago, she never would have imagined such a thing could ever have happened, yet the gleam in his eyes in the Lords had proved its veracity. In that moment, she knew exactly what she wanted, then and for the rest of her life. She wanted to be his wife and countess, make a loving home for him, and carry his children in her womb.

The look in his eyes had told her that he wanted the same.

“I am good enough to be loved by the Earl of Spalding,” she affirmed, finally casting away all the demons of doubt that had plagued her. Then with a happy laugh of abandon, she exclaimed confidently, “I am Viscountess Lockwood!”

“You are dead,” a voice countered from behind her.

She froze in terror. Malevolent fingers of darkness slithered up her spine and ripped the air from her lungs.

Vincent.

She squeezed her eyes shut and willed herself to wake up from the nightmare, but that only intensified the fear clenching her chest and constricting her throat as she felt him stalk closer, like a specter expelled from hell.

Slowly, she turned to face him.

“Hello, Susan.”

His face blurred beneath the hot tears gathering in her eyes until she couldn’t recognize him, but the icy hatred that radiated from him was undeniable. So was the malice lacing through his voice. It took every ounce of her strength to simply keep breathing, to keep her gaze locked with his black eyes.

“It’s been a long time.” A chilling smile spread across his face. “But then, one of us was dead.”

She slowly tightened her hands into fists at her sides. She wouldn’t let him cow her into begging for mercy or terrify her until she screamed, with no one to hear her cries.Never. She’d become someone far different from the timid young lady he’d known before. What filled her now was fury, and sheer resolve to never again be his victim.

“You left this behind.” He pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it toward her. It landed on the floor with a pinging clatter and rolled to a stop at her feet.

She looked down and swallowed back a shocked gasp. Her wedding ring.

“How careless of you to leave behind such a token of your undying love for my brother.” He mockingly shook his head. “Oh, that’s right. You never loved him.” A pitiless smile curved at his lips. “But then, neither did I.”

Something about the way he said that coiled a cold warning inside her belly. A voice screamed inside her head to steel herself—

“Which made it so much easier when I killed him.”

The stab of pain of that was brutal, but she forced herself to not react, biting the inside of her cheek so hard that she tasted blood. What he wanted from her was shock and fear, and she refused to give him either.

“He had the money and the title, and I had nothing.” A hard glint sparked in his black eyes. “And no way to possess it unless he died. Fortunately, he was already ill, so it wasn’t difficult to speed him along.” Clucking his tongue, he turned his attention to the room around them, examining the perfume bottles and jeweled brushes sitting on the dressing table. “So trusting to drink that potion I placed at his lips, believing it was medicine.”

As he talked, he slowly circled the room, picking up various objects and examining them before setting them away disdainfully. As if women’s things repulsed him.

“I hate poison. Such a coward’s way. So weak…soShakespearian.” He gave a dramatic sneer at that. “Would have been much more satisfying to smother him with his own pillow. But his lips would have turned blue, you see, and with the doctors watching him so closely, they would have suspected foul play. But no one suspected poison in his medicine. Not even David.”

Despite the fury that seared her insides at his heartless confession, she followed his every move, watching and waiting for him to attack.

“Of course, my first wife Cora was much more suspicious, so I had to be more persuasive.” He shrugged and reached for a pot of rouge on the dresser. “But the effect was the same after I forced it down her throat.”

She gasped aloud this time, unable to stop herself.