Page 5 of The Viscount’s Vice

He never raised his voice.

She was astonished he did so now, when doing so could attract attention.

She had expected him to be cautious. Perhaps even reluctant. But she hadn’t expected him to be furious.

“If you and I... If we...” He exhaled. “People would assume that I tricked you.”

“Let them assume! What do I care if some high-in-the-instep countess scowls in my direction?”

“It’s not that simple!”

“No! It’s not that complicated.” She was losing him. “Asquith—Simon—I’m not asking you to wed me.” Not yet. “All I want is to spend time together. Alone. I’ve thought this through. I’m willing to take a risk.” She took a steadying breath. “This isn’t a request; it’s a demand.”

“And if I will not comply?” His voice had grown threateningly soft.

“I already told you.” She wet her parched lips. “At a minimum, I would need to disclose the truth about that day to Cassie and Eliza. Would they keep the story from their husbands? I’m not sure.”

“Blackmail?!”

“Yes.”

She felt as well as heard his sharp intake of breath.

“Although I prefer negotiation,” she added.

The conversation was not proceeding as she and her sisters had planned, but she had no choice other than to press onward. Her life and her happiness were at stake.

“Asquith, I’m making a reasonable request to be given a chance.”

Impulsively, she took his injured hand, the hand he took great pains to hide. She ran her fingers over the back of his glove, the one made to match his skin tone, the one that fit him so well that from a distance he looked as if he weren’t wearing one.

She felt him tremor before he yanked back his arm.

“If people even suspected I was interested in marrying you,” he said, “you would be compromised. And compromised or not, the Lord Chancellor could still refuse his permission.” He paused, then spoke again, with a gentled voice, “Lenora, don’t you understand? Ours would not be a courtship. Our circumstances wouldn’t allow for a change of heart.”

She looked up into his eyes.

Didn’t he understand? Her heart would not change.

She already knew everything about him she needed to know. He was steadfast and honorable. And, unlike her father, under no circumstances would he give free rein to his rage.

“I’m not asking for a public courtship,” she said. “I’m proposing private meetings once a week when my sisters and I go back to London in October. We’ll have a little over a month in the city before we go to Harbury’s for Advent.”

Was that too much to ask?

“If, when the Season proper arrives,” she baited her offer, “you still value a societal stricture over your heart’s desire, then I will…”

She lowered her gaze, unable to bring herself to promise she’d marry another.

“Then I will take part in the marriage mart in good faith. Should I find someone as,”—she stopped long enough for her voice to cease wobbling—“as decent, kind, and wonderful as you, I will no longer be your burden.”

***

Stunned, raw, and utterly bewildered, Asquith stared down into Lenora’s eyes.

Decent. Kind. Wonderful.

Her words were calomel applied to a painful rash. Asquith felt as if a layer of skin were being ruthlessly removed. The flesh left behind was blistered, sore, and unready to be touched.