Never Marry a Viscount (Scandal at the House of Russell 3)

“No, but—”

“Alexander!” came a new voice from behind Alexander’s tall frame. “I knew you’d show up sooner or later. And look

at the pretty present you brought me. Or are we going to share?”

The man’s voice was light, charming, and Alexander stiffened with shock. He slowly turned, still blocking her view. “Rufus,” he said in a hoarse voice. “You really are alive!”

“I am indeed, brother mine. Bloody but unbowed.”

Alexander was looking as if he’d been struck by lightning. He stared at his brother with a dazed expression, then shook his head, as if to clear his brain. “Why didn’t you come to Renwick?” he demanded.

“And deal with my mother’s histrionics? I think not. So tell me, who’s the delightful little crumpet who’s hiding behind your skirts, so to speak?”

Alexander moved then, and Sophie took her first look at Alexander’s recently deceased brother, who apparently wasn’t dead after all.

He was a handsome man—anyone related to Alexander would probably have to be. In fact, he was possibly prettier than Alexander was, with large eyes and a generous, smiling mouth, a tousle of dark hair with an artfully arranged curl over his forehead. He was a bit too thin, and his face was pale, as if he’d been ill, but he made her an extravagant bow that almost sent him tumbling.

Alexander caught him immediately, and the man gave his brother a rueful smile. “My blasted leg,” he said, then glanced at Sophie. “Beg your pardon, beautiful stranger.”

“She has an affection for bad language,” Alexander said. “Sophie, may I present my Lazarus of a brother, Rufus Griffiths? Rufus, this is Sophia Russell, my affianced bride.”

Did she imagine that fleeting expression of shock that washed over Rufus’s pale face? She must have, because a moment later he’d limped toward her and taken her hand in his, kissing it with great panache. “So I’m finally to have a sister? When did all this happen? I’ve only been dead a few weeks.”

Alexander laughed, but the sound was uneasy. “I want to hear what happened to you. One moment you’re on a grand tour, next we hear you’ve gone overboard on some pirate’s ship, which I always took leave to doubt. What in heaven’s name happened to you?”

“Ah, the stories I could weave you,” Rufus said with an airy wave of one pale hand. “But first, how did you hear I’d drowned?”

“Apparently your man was in Plymouth, though God knows why, and word came from London that you’d been lost overboard. But I don’t understand why your man wasn’t with you, and why Plymouth, of all places?”

Plymouth, Sophie thought. What an odd coincidence, that her sister had been so close to him. They might even have passed each other on the street.

Rufus smiled at them both impartially. “Simple enough, brother mine. My man had some kind of emergency. I didn’t pay it much attention—I think someone in his family died—so he abandoned me to the clumsy care of an Italian valet. You cannot imagine the florid things he wished me to wear. As for Plymouth, I was planning to end up there on the final leg of my journey.”

“So where did the pirate come in?”

“Where do pirates always come from?” Rufus said musingly. “I think that will make for excellent dinner table conversation. Miss Russell, I expect you would love a chance to freshen up. You look as if you’d been wrestling a tiger.” He glanced at his brother and laughed softly. “Oh, dear, have I been indiscreet?”

Alexander’s smile didn’t waver, but Sophie didn’t miss the sudden irritation in his eyes. “My brother is right—I’ve been a poor host. Wilton?”

The butler, who’d properly blended into the background, stepped forward. “Yes, my lord?”

“Would you see Miss Russell to the room next to mine? And have one of the footmen take her luggage up there.”

“She has luggage?” Rufus said. “I assumed you’d found her selling apples on the corner. She doesn’t even have shoes.”

Sophie smiled at Rufus Griffiths, gritting her teeth. She had never been fond of overly charming people—perhaps that was why she was so irrationally attracted to Alexander. And Rufus wasn’t too pleased with her, either. He didn’t want his brother engaged, she could tell that much, no matter how much he was trying to hide it. That could prove extremely useful.

“He likes me better without shoes,” she said sweetly. “He knows I’d be tempted to throw them at him.”

Rufus laughed. “Oh ho, so it’s that way! Your legendary charm has won the fair lady. Are you sure you want her in the adjoining room—she might slit your throat in the middle of the night. I suggest you lock your doors.”

“What fun would that be?” Alexander countered lightly. “Besides, I’ve kept her away from sharp instruments.”

“You don’t happen to have a knife, do you, Mr. Griffiths?” she inquired.

“Call me Rufus, my dear. After all, we’re going to be brother and sister, are we not? Alas, I do prefer my brother in one piece. If you feel so murderous, then why ever did you agree to marry him?”

“I didn’t,” she said flatly.