Lisa Kleypas - Bow Street Runner 01 by Someone To Watch Over Me

Author:Someone To Watch Over Me [Me, Someone To Watch Over]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-11-25T23:57:49+00:00

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Your talents lie elsewhere.”

Her lips parted, but she couldn’t produce a sound. In her guilt and pain, she could only focus on one overwhelming fact. Grant must not find out. If he knew what she had likely done, his contempt for her would know no bounds. He would despise her for eternity…but no more than she would despise herself.

“Vivien.” Gerard’s voice penetrated the desperate whirl of her thoughts. He approached her from behind and grasped her gloved arms, his hands sliding in a downward caress. “Vivien, leave Morgan and come back to me. Tonight. He’s only flash gentry. He can’t do for you what I can. You know that.” Poisonous, angry words flooded her mouth, but somehow she held them back. It would be best not to make an enemy of him…He might eventually be of further use to her. She turned a tremulous smile on him. “I’ll consider it,” she said. “However, don’t expect me tonight. Now…we’ll go back to the drawing room separately. I won’t embarrass Morgan by appearing there with you.”

“One kiss before we go,” Gerard demanded.

Her smile lingered teasingly. “But I couldn’t stop at one, darling. Just leave, please.” He caught her hand and squeezed, pressing a kiss to the back of her glove. As soon as he walked away, Vivien’s smile disappeared. She passed the backs of her fingers over her cold, sweaty brow and fought the urge to cry. Taking a separate path from Gerard’s, she wandered back to the manor house.

Consumed by regret and bitter fear, Vivien paused by a thick hedge bordering a massive stone statue of Father Time. A welcome breeze fanned over her. She felt feverish, dazed, and she knew she had to compose herself before entering the drawing room. She did not want to face the crowd inside, and she especially did not want to face Grant.

“Harlot.” A man’s hate-thickened voice darted through the silence, causing her to start. “I won’t rest until you’re dead.”

Stunned, Vivien whirled in a circle, searching for the source of the voice. Shadows danced around her.

Her heart thudded with sickening speed. The sound of footsteps caused her to bolt like a frightened rabbit. Grabbing handfuls of her skirts, she let out a muffled sob and raced up the stone steps, stumbling, scrambling toward the lights from the manor. Her foot slipped on a patch of moisture, or perhaps a stray leaf, and she fell heavily, banging the front of her shin on the edge of a step. Crying out in pain, she gathered herself to run again, but it was too late—a pair of arms had already begun to close around her.

“No,” she whimpered, flailing out in selfdefense, but she was firmly restrained in an iron grip.

A harsh voice rumbled in her ear, and it took several seconds for her to recognize the familiar sound.

“Vivien, be still. It’s me. Look at me, dammit.”

Blinking, she stared at him until the panic cleared from her vision. “Grant,” she said between hard spurts of breath.

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