The Madness of Viscount Atherbourne (Rescued from Ruin, Book One) Read Online Free PDF Page B

and
free of others’ interference. And lonely, she thought. Terribly lonely.
    In the second option, she would be companion
to an elderly great-aunt she remembered fondly as eccentric but
witty and fun. As she recalled, Aunt Muriel loved to travel, so at
least that option might offer a chance for variety, if not true
adventure. However, Victoria would have no home of her own, living
instead on the whims and good graces of a woman she hadn’t seen in
over a decade.
    But does that matter so much, since I am
unlikely now to ever marry? And if I do not marry, I will have no
children, presumably. It will always be just … me.
    No chasing a giggling two-year-old around the
garden. No shopping on Bond Street for her daughter’s first season.
And definitely no knee-weakening kisses with a devilishly handsome
husband.
    She felt a sob rise and gather in her chest.
Her hands clenched into fists, her nails digging into the soft
flesh of her palms. Blast it. She had cried for two days after that
humiliating night. She refused to start up again. She. Would. Not.
Everything would be fine, she assured herself. Just fine. Oh, not
what she had pictured her life to be, surely. But quiet and secure
and restful and serene …
    A white square of fabric appeared in front of
her face, its edges blurred by the tears she couldn’t seem to
prevent. She took the handkerchief and pressed it to her mouth,
then tightly grasped Harrison’s strong, capable hand where it still
hovered next to her. They remained there for long minutes, he
holding her hand gently and stroking her hair while tears quietly
rolled down her cheeks in an unstoppable flow.
    Rather than oppressive and disapproving, his
silence now felt as it had when she was six years old and mourning
the death of her first (and last) pet, an old tomcat she had named
Salty. As Harrison had sat with her then, holding her hand just
like this, his silence had fallen as a reassuring blanket around
her. He was ten years older than she, but had never given her a
moment’s doubt about his love, had rarely treated her with anything
other than steadfast affection.
    A great deal of her regret over the incident
at the Gattingford ball was because of the blow it dealt to her
brother. For that alone, she could not forgive herself. The damage
to her life would forever change his.
    When a polite knock intruded into the
silence, Harrison gave her hair one last stroke and pulled away to
sit once again behind his desk. “Yes?”
    “A gentleman is here to see you, your
grace.”
    Seated with her back to the doors, Victoria
could not see Digby’s face, but she found their unflappable
butler’s tremulous tone rather alarming.
    Harrison frowned. “Who is it?”
    “Viscount Atherbourne, your grace.”
    White-hot fury flashed briefly in Harrison’s
gray-blue eyes before he blinked and they iced over. “Thank you,
Digby. Please show Lord Atherbourne into the drawing room. I will
join him in a moment.”
    Her heart stuttered, stomach twisting almost
painfully as she realized what this announcement meant. He was
here. In her house. The man she had been dreaming about, then
cursing, then dreaming about some more for the past
three-and-a-half days.
    She heard the door shut behind Digby before
Harrison said, “I think you should lie down for a while, Tori.” His
use of her childhood nickname suggested he was feeling protective;
his dismissing her to her bedchamber implied he wanted her as far
away from the coming confrontation as possible. She hoped he wasn’t
planning to shoot yet another Viscount Atherbourne, although she
could appreciate the sentiment.
    He rose from behind the desk and strode
purposefully toward the doors. As he passed, she again grasped his
hand and tugged him to a halt. “Harrison, please don’t do anything
rash.”
    He squeezed her hand, set it back in her lap,
and patted it soothingly. “Not to worry. In spite of the severe
nature of the provocation, I am not the reckless sort. I