The Serpent and the Scorpion Read Online Free PDF Page A

confidence that it always seemed, whether he was in a court of law, the House of Lords, or here in Ursula’s parlor, that he owned the room. His physical presence, perfectly proportioned and sleek, had a potent effect on Ursula. She felt the irresistible pull of his attraction.
    “I told Biggs not to worry with introductions,” Lord Wrotham said with the ghost of a smile. “I think you know who I am by now.”
    He took three strides into the room before he saw Winifred and stopped short.
    “Miss Stanford-Jones,” he said coolly, and Ursula sensed with annoyance his disapproval.
    “Why, Lord Wrotham, we were just discussing our campaign to fire-bomb the Houses of Parliament!” Winifred replied without hesitation. Lord Wrotham’s countenance darkened. “Actually,” she continued with a half smile on her face, as if it amused her to see that her association with Ursula still irked him, “I was just leaving.”
    Ursula accompanied Winifred to the door as Biggs left to collect Winifred’s square-topped Derby hat and long, loose coat. She kissed Winifred lightly on the cheek as she murmured her good-bye. After Winifred bid Lord Wrotham breezy adieu, Ursula closed the door behind her and stood for a moment with her back to him.
    “I thought you weren’t due back for another week,” she ventured. Ursula remembered their last meeting, the night before he was due to leave for the Balkans on his clandestine mission for the British government, and wasn’t sure how to react to him now.
    “Our talks did not go as well as we had hoped,” Lord Wrotham responded. “I came straight here from Liverpool Street station.”
    Ursula detected a weariness in his tone that immediately roused her pity. She turned round swiftly. “You sound awfully tired.”
    He was still standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed. His gray-blue eyes took aim at hers. She felt like a defendant in the dock, waiting for him to make his closing argument. She knew him well enough by now to recognize that his self-control rarely faltered, and she could not bear it. She wanted to shatter his resolve, and yet when she recalled their last conversation, when she thought of her angry refusal (“I will not be forced into marriage just because society demands it!”), she wanted only to be in his arms and seek forgiveness.
    She started to walk toward him but hesitated and stopped.
    “I missed you,” was all she said.
    He turned away quickly.
    “Damn it!” he cursed, and Ursula took some satisfaction that his composure had already snapped. “I can’t do this, Ursula,” he said angrily as he walked over and gripped the mantel with both his hands. “I can’t go back to the way it was.”
    Ursula walked over to the fireplace and stood beside him, blinking back her tears. He leaned over to gaze into the cold, empty grate. She and Winifred had been so engrossed in their discussions, they had failed to notice the fire dying out.
    “Nothing has changed since I left,” he continued. “I told you that I needed an answer. My reputation cannot survive much more of this. We must be married or be done with it. You may be able to flout society’s conventions, but I cannot afford to do so. My good name and reputation are all that I have.”
    Ursula placed her hand on his arm, feeling the soft, light brush of his cashmere suit jacket as he pulled away. She could see the edge where his round-tabbed collar attached to his white linen shirt as he readjusted the gold tie pin on his crimson necktie.
    “I never wanted to place your reputation in jeopardy,” she said quietly. “But I don’t understand why you cannot wait. I just need more time to—”
    “Time to what?” he interrupted her sharply. “Time to reconcile yourself to the appalling prospect of being married to me? I don’t want that, Ursula, and well you know it.”
    He started to pace up and down the edge of the room. Ursula could hear the strike of his oxford shoes on the wooden floor beating