Page 140 of To Catch a Viscount

Marcia immediately picked the book up, scanned the pages, and landed on Andrew’s name. She promptly choked. Fifteen thousand pounds… Paid. In full.

She stilled.

Not just paid in full… paid in full the day after… their wedding.

Her heart thumped funnily inside her chest.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” That query spoken from the entry of the room, brought Marcia’s and Anwen’s attention whipping over to the doorway.

The book slipped from her hands, tumbling back to the desk.

Hell and bloody hell.

“We have company,” Anwen whispered needlessly.

Faith, however, without the benefit of full hearing, having returned to her examination of the proprietor’s books, remained oblivious to theirhost’sarrival.

For there could be no doubting that this tall, well-dressed, smooth-spoken stranger was anything other than the man who commanded Forbidden Pleasures.

“My God, this man must be as rich as Croesus,” Faith was muttering to herself.

Marcia cleared her throat. “Ahem.”

From under the desk, Faith muttered an occasional word or phrase that rang quite clearly around the room. “Is there even any man not in debt to him?”

Marcia cleared her throat loudly. “Isaid‘ahem.’”

Faith whipped her head up, and there came a loud crack, followed by a groan.

There was a beat of silence and then, “Is he here?”

“He is.” The imposing stranger spoke in tones layered with ice and steeped in steel.

Faith hesitated and then popped her head up enough that her eyes appeared over the top of the desk. “Oh hell,” she muttered.

Oh, hell indeed.

He came forward with steps to rival a panther’s. And they weren’t sleek and sexy, like Andrew’s but, rather, the primal ones of a man who intended to devour his prey in a dangerous way.

Marcia swallowed hard, and reaching a hand down, she caught the sleeve of Faith’s cloak and pulled her to her feet.

He stopped before them.

He moved eyes a shade of blue so dark they were nearly obsidian, back and forth over them. That harsh, emotionless gaze ultimately landed on Marcia. “Hello, Lady Waters.”

A chill traipsed along her spine, and she inclined her head, answering that greeting with silence.

“And whyever do you expect I’m not the viscountess?” Faith demanded loudly of the club proprietor, dropping her hands upon her hips. “I mean, her?” She pointed at Anwen. “I might say you can suspect she is not who she claims to be.”

Anwen bristled with indignation. “Hey, I take much offense to that.”

“What in hell have you brought me?” Mr. DuMond muttered, yanking his gloves off and stuffing them inside his jacket.

“They were being taken,” Mr. Red explained.

“I cannot even begin to fathom why,” Mr. DuMond said, with a wry shake of his head.

“I beg your pardon,” Faith shot back, and the gentleman swung his attention back over to Marcia’s friend.

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