Page 7 of To Catch a Viscount

That almost kiss should have been her first clue that her marriage to the Marquess of Thornton was destined to be doomed.

Alas, it hadn’t been a stolen kiss in a moonlit garden that had seen her ruined.

Nor had it been a wicked rogue with a notorious reputation.

Rather, it had happened in the halls of St. Helena’s Church, with all thetonwatching as she was jilted by an honorable, charming gentleman.

This time, as moisture dampened her cheeks, she didn’t attempt to stop the flow of her tears.

What now?

Chapter 2

Abottle of brandy had been a terrible idea.

In fact, the only good idea Andrew had had last evening was welcoming back to his townhouse the lush, warm companionship of two of London’s most notorious widows.

Even so, his head raged from the tribulations of too much drink and a lack of sleep and the vigorous sex he’d enjoyed with his company.

He forced his eyes open and promptly winced as the brightness of the morning sun penetrated the fog.

Based on the brightness of those rays, it was very nearly noon… or later.

Andrew closed his eyes and let his head fall back on the pillow.

No point in forcing himself to rise. There was hardly any reason to—

He stilled.

Oh, shite.

Was he going to be late?

With a warm, naked body pressed against his side, Andrew forced his heavy eyes open again, and this time, the sun’s rays glaring through the gaping curtains nearly blinded him.

By the height of the sun in the morning sky, he was indeed late.

Nonetheless, Andrew reached over the lush body pressed against his other side and fumbled around the nightstand for his timepiece.

Raising the gold watch fob, he consulted the time.

Noon.

Yes, he’d missed it.

Though he wouldn’t be missed by the respective parties or their families.

His own family, however, was another matter.

“Never tell me you’re looking to end our fun now.” A husky voice, belonging to Lady Scarlett, his latest lover, made even huskier by desire and sleep, cut across the morning quiet.

Meanwhile, his other bed partner wrapped long, talon-like fingers around his shaft. Already sprung hard that morn, the flesh grew harder and jumped under her touch. “He wouldn’t think of it,” Lady Charlotte purred, squeezing him with her clever hand.

A hiss slipped out.

He’d worry about the matter of his disappointed family after he took his morning—or in this case,noontime—pleasure.

The thing of it was, people spoke of love, but this was the purest emotion there was—raging, hot lust.

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