The Merry Viscount by Sally MacKenzie

Author:Sally MacKenzie
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Zebra Books
Published: 2019-08-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Nick’s eyes snapped open. He’d heard something....

Zeus! Had that been the creak of a door opening?

And now he heard footsteps in the viscountess’s room.

He tensed. If the Weasel or Archie had sneaked into Caro’s room—

Thankfully, they’d not find her there.

Unless she had gone back to her own bed in the middle of the night.

Nick turned over and propped himself up on an elbow—and was relieved to see Caro was still there beside him, mouth slightly open, snoring softly.

After she’d got sick, he’d helped her into his bed. It was a testament to how ill she’d been that she’d not argued with him about that. Then he’d dumped the unfortunate contents of the chamber pot out the window—checking first to see that no poor servant was standing in the snow below him—so the lowly receptacle would be ready in case it was needed again.

Fortunately, she’d made it through the night without any other unpleasant eruptions.

He studied her. Asleep, she looked young, fragile—

He almost snorted at that, but managed to stop himself in time. He didn’t want to wake her. Still, he could just imagine how she’d rip up at him if he were daft enough to say something like that aloud.

There was nothing fragile about Miss Caroline Anderson.

Well, except for her stomach and head. They might be a trifle fragile this morning.

He supposed he should have tried to stop her from drinking so much last night—not that she would have taken well to that, he was quite certain. But he’d been too caught up in—and appalled by—her story.

The embers of last night’s anger blazed up again. Bloody Dervington! He deserved to roast in hell for wounding Caro as he’d done.

And then the wound, left untreated, had festered.

You know something of festering wounds, don’t you?

He frowned. Perhaps he did.

His attention snapped back to his surroundings—the footsteps were coming toward the connecting door.

He sat up. He couldn’t believe any man would have the audacity to look for Caro in his room, but apparently—

No. It was just the maid come to check on the fire. Her eyes widened when she saw him—and she saw quite a bit of him, as he’d dispensed with his shirt and breeches once Caro had fallen asleep. They were far too restrictive to sleep in and he’d not packed a nightshirt. He’d thought he was going to be hosting an orgy, not a hodgepodge of stranded travelers.

Then the maid saw Caro, and her eyes widened further.

Oh, blast. Well, at least the fiction that he and Caro were involved in an affair would be flying through the household without any effort on their part.

Too bad it’s a fiction—

Zounds, where the hell had that thought come from? Of course, it was a good thing it was a fiction. If it weren’t, he’d be forced to meet Caro at the altar and recite his vows.

And would that be so bad?

He blinked. Yes. Yes, it would be disastrous.

The rock-solid conviction he always felt when repudiating the wedded state was conspicuously absent this morning.

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