Page 115 of To Catch a Viscount

His gaze grew more somber, and he shifted it over her face. “Are you all right?” he asked quietly.

“Yes!” she answered, too quickly, too emphatically.

Andrew gave her a look.

As he’d pointed out, he knew her well enough to identify when she was not herself, though not well enough to realize that her chaotic heart was the reason she was so out of sorts before him.

“You regret your decision,” he remarked quietly.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I… It is just new. All of this is foreign.”

He caught her hands, raising them one at a time to his mouth and placing a kiss upon them. “Nothing has to change, Marcia.” He spoke with the eagerness of a man who clearly wished for things to remain as they were between them.

“No, you are right.”

Except, as he slipped his arm through hers, and they made their way to their wedding breakfast, those assurances she’d given herself melted away.

As Andrew charmed their guests, she couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He commanded the room in a comforting way, gesticulating with his hands while he spoke and raising laughter from all parties present. Why, he even managed to pull a grin from Marcia’s father, who’d only been grim since he’d discovered them in that bedroom.

Suddenly, the Duke and Duchess of Huntly’s youngest babe, Lord William, a boy just one year old, with a tangle of golden curls like his mother and father, erupted into a blubber of tears.

As if on cue, the child’s nursemaid came rushing into the room to escort the babe off, but Andrew, in mid-conversation with the earl, reached for his nephew. Naturally and never breaking dialogue, Andrew proceeded to bounce the boy on his knee.

Almost immediately, the babe ceased crying.

Andrew said something to the child, tickling him under the chin.

Andrew was so natural and easy with a babe, a babe who, with his golden curls, conjured an image of a babe who might one day be theirs.

And she wanted that.

As though he had followed the dangerous direction her thoughts had meandered, Andrew looked down at her and smiled.

That smile proved to be the final nail in the proverbial coffin for her.

She felt her lips curling in what she suspected was a stupid smile as, God help her, she found herself as besotted and entranced as any lady who’d ever been seduced by, or seduced by the thought of, Andrew Barrett.

She wanted all of those things with Andrew.

Laughter and love, a family.

Marcia went still, grateful when little Lord William thumped a chubby fist against Andrew’s chest, recalling his attention.

She gripped the arms of her chair tightly to steady her trembling fingers.

Oh, God.

This was very bad indeed.

Chapter 18

The moment they’d arrived at Andrew’s household later that day, Marcia had not known what to expect.

After she’d been properly introduced to the staff, the lovely, kindly housekeeper, Mrs. Hinkle, had taken Marcia on a guided tour of the entire household, a tour that Andrew did not take part in.

She’d not expected he would, and yet, as she and Mrs. Hinkle made their way from room to room, she found herself wishing he was there with her so she wasn’t alone.

Because this was the first—and final—home she’d call her own.

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