Society's Most Scandalous Viscount Read Online Free
Author: Anabelle Bryant
almond-shaped eyes beneath long lashes, and mesmeric irises the greenest blue heâd ever seen, glistening as if they consisted of ocean water teased by the sunlight, alive and turbulent with thoughts and emotions. She hadnât said a word in response to his intrusion, although he noted a flicker of unease in her face as she raised her gaze. Still she didnât object to his sudden interruption to her day. Last evening sheâd also lacked proper guard of her personal safety.
Good thing heâd happened along.
When she made an abrupt stop, he missed a step, lost in his personal reverie. Abbreviating his momentum, he pivoted to walk backwards while she continued forward.
âMy lord.â
She spoke with inflection on the second word, the utterance more exclamation than greeting. One slender brow rose like an arrow to the sky before she turned to view the road ahead with a bewitching swish of skirts.
His smile threatened to emerge at her feisty response. Though at first glance she appeared refined, this was no high-born lady. Or perhaps sheâd abandoned her pedigree in lieu of a fiery tongue. That idea prompted another smile and this time he allowed it freedom. âMay I be of service? Have you lost your way?â He darted a look left and right for added effect.
âSo youâre a rescuer of unaccompanied women?â She eyed his hair, open collar, and lack of cravat with cynical condemnation, and while she didnât pause to allow his answer, the tilt of her eyebrows expressed volumes. âAnd here I assumed you a loose-moraled bounder breaking the dawn on a magnificent animal won in a low-profile gaming hell where bored aristocrats waste time and money.â Her eyes moved to Nyx who trotted several yards in front of them.
When he didnât respond to her setdown, a peal of merry laughter, brighter than the sun, grabbed his attention and all at once he was focused on her mouth, her lips extremely kissable. âYou have it all wrong, although I bow to your opinion of uppers.â Heâd be damned to admit his title now. Not when their verbal sparring ignited his curiosity, a trait that had been in danger of death by boredom since leaving London.
She slanted him a look of disbelief.
âDo you reside in Brighton?â He flipped a glance to Nyx and back again, determined not to let the lady out of sight.
âI live nowhere in particular and certainly not here.â
Her facetious reply warned she was in no mood for conversation, his company as welcome as a mosquitoâs, though he swore a glint of amusement danced in her eyes to convince him the sting of her words hid a spark of inquisitive interest. He considered returning the lamp key, but years at the gaming tables had taught him never to tip his hand. Everything presented a gamble in one way or another. It was how one played through that proved exceptional skill.
âThen I shanât bother you further.â He winked, encouraged she hadnât threatened him off after his bold interruption to her morning stroll. He gave a sharp whistle and Nyx returned. Grabbing a fistful of mane, he hoisted himself atop the mare, the animal anxious as it mouthed the bit. He hoped heâd meet this mermaid again, only next time heâd employ a different approach.
He returned home at a fast pace, clearheaded and energized by the chance meeting, amused more than chagrined. After securing Nyx in the stall with a fresh portion of hay and brief conversation, he entered the manor to idle away his time until the evening hours. Darkness suited him more than daylight.
Heâd barely breached the door before being set upon by Bitters, the multi-purpose servant seemingly agitated if his pinched expression could be trusted.
âIâve dispatched Wilton to his familial home in Berkshire. His fatherâs health has declined and I saw no reason to retain him in the position of groundskeeper when he was distraught and needed
Good thing heâd happened along.
When she made an abrupt stop, he missed a step, lost in his personal reverie. Abbreviating his momentum, he pivoted to walk backwards while she continued forward.
âMy lord.â
She spoke with inflection on the second word, the utterance more exclamation than greeting. One slender brow rose like an arrow to the sky before she turned to view the road ahead with a bewitching swish of skirts.
His smile threatened to emerge at her feisty response. Though at first glance she appeared refined, this was no high-born lady. Or perhaps sheâd abandoned her pedigree in lieu of a fiery tongue. That idea prompted another smile and this time he allowed it freedom. âMay I be of service? Have you lost your way?â He darted a look left and right for added effect.
âSo youâre a rescuer of unaccompanied women?â She eyed his hair, open collar, and lack of cravat with cynical condemnation, and while she didnât pause to allow his answer, the tilt of her eyebrows expressed volumes. âAnd here I assumed you a loose-moraled bounder breaking the dawn on a magnificent animal won in a low-profile gaming hell where bored aristocrats waste time and money.â Her eyes moved to Nyx who trotted several yards in front of them.
When he didnât respond to her setdown, a peal of merry laughter, brighter than the sun, grabbed his attention and all at once he was focused on her mouth, her lips extremely kissable. âYou have it all wrong, although I bow to your opinion of uppers.â Heâd be damned to admit his title now. Not when their verbal sparring ignited his curiosity, a trait that had been in danger of death by boredom since leaving London.
She slanted him a look of disbelief.
âDo you reside in Brighton?â He flipped a glance to Nyx and back again, determined not to let the lady out of sight.
âI live nowhere in particular and certainly not here.â
Her facetious reply warned she was in no mood for conversation, his company as welcome as a mosquitoâs, though he swore a glint of amusement danced in her eyes to convince him the sting of her words hid a spark of inquisitive interest. He considered returning the lamp key, but years at the gaming tables had taught him never to tip his hand. Everything presented a gamble in one way or another. It was how one played through that proved exceptional skill.
âThen I shanât bother you further.â He winked, encouraged she hadnât threatened him off after his bold interruption to her morning stroll. He gave a sharp whistle and Nyx returned. Grabbing a fistful of mane, he hoisted himself atop the mare, the animal anxious as it mouthed the bit. He hoped heâd meet this mermaid again, only next time heâd employ a different approach.
He returned home at a fast pace, clearheaded and energized by the chance meeting, amused more than chagrined. After securing Nyx in the stall with a fresh portion of hay and brief conversation, he entered the manor to idle away his time until the evening hours. Darkness suited him more than daylight.
Heâd barely breached the door before being set upon by Bitters, the multi-purpose servant seemingly agitated if his pinched expression could be trusted.
âIâve dispatched Wilton to his familial home in Berkshire. His fatherâs health has declined and I saw no reason to retain him in the position of groundskeeper when he was distraught and needed
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