When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal 4)

Phoebe slowly eased from off the sofa, her heart pounding. She recalled the dark, unfathomable look in her husband’s eyes last night. What she had perceived to be indifference had been possessive anger and ruthless resolve to ensure making Malfoy pay for taking her from Scotland.

Pleasure burst bright and hot inside her heart.

“I can see from your expression that you know what is happening,” Richard said.

Phoebe glanced up to see her brother staring at her coolly, and the Viscount’s eyes narrowed in contemplation.

“It is just a theory on my part,” she murmured, sauntering over to the mantle to pour sherry into a glass. She took a considering sip, staring at the viscount with a deliberate smile hovering on her lips.

“I gather it is more than a theory,” the viscount said tightly. “You look quite pleased at the inconvenience I am experiencing.”

She lifted a shoulder in an inelegant shrug. “You were the one who kidnapped me from my husband and child.”

“At my orders,” Richard interjected smoothly.

“A-Are you saying this is the work of your husband?” the viscount spluttered.

“Yes.” A thought occurred to her. “I wonder what he will do to George!” Phoebe had not a thought of him since she saw her husband last night.

Richard stiffened. “George Hastings?”

“Yes, George,” Phoebe said tartly. “You encouraged him to approach me, and he said some foolish things and kissed me without my permission. My husband saw it all, I suspect.”

The viscount frowned. “I cannot believe this would be your husband. I was watching you last night, Lady Phoebe, and—”

“Lady Albury,” she interjected with a smile, willing to always remind them to whom she was married. “And I cannot understand why you are watching me.”

He had the grace to tug at his cravat as if discomfited. “When Albury saw young George taking liberties, I tell you, Richard, the young earl did not care one jot. He simply held out his hand, she placed hers in his, and they left. He could have issued a private challenge to Mr. Hastings or planted a facer. He did neither! Why should I believe that man is now responsible for my woes?”

Phoebe could not help the delighted laugh that slipped from her.

“You are pleased?” Richard demanded.

“I am terribly pleased that my husband feels something that is not indifference.”

A single knock came on the door, and her husband sauntered inside. Her heart leaped, stuttered, and then began to pound. A surge of longing and an ache travelled through her heart. He had only to be in the same room, and the response came unbidden.

He was astonishingly handsome in dark trousers and jacket, a brilliant blue waistcoat, and an expertly tied cravat. His eyes, so very distant and unaffected, scanned the room, touching briefly on Richard then lingering on her. He smiled briefly in greeting, but the sentiment did not quite reach his eyes. It was like a knife slicing through her. She had fallen in love with a man who obviously desired her, but a man who would never be able to tell her he loved her.

The Sparrow he ignored completely. The insult was subtle but unmistakable.

Was Hugh recalling the fierce way he had tumbled her last night and the wicked way he had made her sob and scream his name? A wave of heat engulfed her face, and she quickly glanced away from his intense stare.

His fingers lifted, and he signed.

“My husband is pleased to make your acquaintance, Richard. Given the hasty and unexpected circumstances of our marriage, he understands why you panicked in your actions to bring me home. He thanks you for your hospitality in having me these last few days and looks forward to meeting with you regularly when we return from Scotland. Our family is currently in mourning, so we will miss the upcoming season. He extends an invitation for you to visit us in Scotland at your earliest convenience,” she translated.

Sparrow’s eyes widened as the import of their actions hit him. His hand tightened around his glass.

“I see,” Richard murmured, staring at her husband. “I’ve been made to understand you’ve made ruinous steps toward Lord Malfoy. Many would call it an overreaction to the matter.”

Hugh’s fingers lifted. Each time his gaze touched hers, her heart trembled in response. Richard and Sparrow looked to her for interaction.

Phoebe bit back her smile as she translated. “I am not many.”

“Do you have nothing more to say?” Sparrow snapped.

Finally, he shifted his gaze to the viscount. “This is a lesson I trust you will remember well. I’ve restrained myself, as my wife assured me you did not hurt her. But you did frighten her and caused her to worry. I am serious about anything that affects her.”