Secrets of a Viscount Read Online Free

returning the key to the innkeeper, Sebastian caught a quick view of Belle getting into his carriage. What had she and her sister been thinking trapping him into marriage this way? He should have known something was off when she insisted on wearing that blasted cloak. Well, he’d play the fool no more. They’d go to the smithy’s where he’d explain the situation and get their names scratched off the register. Then he’d take Belle home and never have anything to do with either of them ever again. He’d never expected Rachel capable of doing something so stupid. Belle, yes. But not Rachel. Now he knew differently. He now knew Rachel was just as undignified as her sister if she’d agreed to participate in this nonsense.
    He ground his teeth. Those two had better pray nobody ever finds out about this. Not only would it bring scandal and embarrassment to his name, but it would absolutely ruin both of their reputations. Not that he thought for a second the pair didn’t deserve such a thing.
    “ Back to the smithy’s,” he called to Abrams before climbing up into the coach.
    “ You shouldn’t scowl so much, Sebastian. It’s going to leave some unflattering marks on your handsome face.”
    Sebastian purposely deepened his scowl at her words. “Perhaps you shouldn’t concern yourself with my looks. You’ll not be around to see them as I age.”
    “We’ll see,” she said smugly, slipping a pin into her hair.
    The coach jolted to a stop outside of the smithy’s shop. Sebastian was half out of the coach before Abrams set the brake.
    “Wait for me, please.”
    A moment of temporarily remembering his gentleman’s honor, or perhaps insanity, led Sebastian to grant her wish and fall back onto the seat. He crossed his arms and leaned his head back against the squabs, waiting impatiently as Belle continued to haphazardly pin her mess of hair onto the top of her head. “You look fine,” he lied when he could take it no longer.
    Belle pursed her lips. “Well, if you don’t mind taking your bride out when she looks affright, why should I?”
    “ Excellent. Let’s go.” He climbed out of the carriage and reached his hand up to help her down. He may not like her and he certainly didn’t wish to be her husband, but he still could afford to show her the courtesy she deserved.
    “ Dinna ‘spect ta see ye ‘gain,” the smithy said, waggling his eyebrows as Sebastian and Belle crossed the threshold.
    “ Yes, well, circumstances have changed,” Sebastian said uneasily.
    Belle waved her hand through the air. “What my husband is trying to say is that he’d like to have a peek at your registry, if he might.”
    Sebastian smiled thinly and waited for the smithy to get his grubby book from where it rested on the table in the corner.
    “ Still canna believe yer mar’ed?” the smithy jested as he brought the book over and opened it to the most recent page. His keen eyes followed his dirty finger down the page until he reached the last line. “Here it is. Seb’as’ten Gen’ry an’ Is’belle Kni’t.”
    “ What?” Sebastian gasped, reaching for the offending book. His eyes read the words. Once. Twice. Thrice. It couldn’t be. It was. Anger surged through him and his face flamed. “This can’t be. It just can’t.”
    Belle flashed him a triumphant smile. “It is.”
    “No, it’s not,” he growled. “It may be your name, but I said those vows to Rachel.”
    “ No, you said them to me,” she replied, her voice sugary sweet.
    “ I don’t remember hearing your name,” he snapped. “Trust me, if I had, I’d have run out of here faster than a man walking across a bed of hot coals.”
    “ Wot’s ta be de pro’lem?” the smithy asked, prying the book from Sebastian’s death-grip.
    “ She tricked me,” Sebastian spat. “Scratch those names off. We’re not married.”
    “ Ah, but ye is,” the smithy countered with a smile. “It says so righ’ here.”
    “ No,” Sebastian argued. “I did not