Page 3 of His Accidental Duchess

She saw the light from the open doorway down the hall. The sewing box would be there, of course. The girls were in bed, but her mother would doubtless be awake.

She would be reading, most likely, her pince-nez sitting on the tip of her nose. Their routine was always the same. She would glance over them, asking question after question about Anna’s night.

The meaning was always the same.

Have you found a rich man to fall in love with yet?

Can you save us?

But when Anna shouldered the drawing room door open all the way, it wasn’t Octavia waiting for her on the sofa.

Instead, it was the Earl of Downton.

Anna stopped dead, her gloves falling from her slack fingers.

The man was sprawled over a two-seater sofa, his arms and legs open wide. His cravat was loosened, showing a triangle of white chest hair. He was unshaven and flushed with drink.

There was a tense moment of silence while they regarded each other. Anna’s hand shot out to grab the doorframe as if to steady herself, and he slowly, slowly sat up. She noticed a glass of whiskey in his hand and an open decanter standing on a nearby table.

“You,” she breathed.

The Earl grinned. “It is I. Well, well, well, Miss Belmont. I can hardly believe how long it has been since I last saw you! A full three years, yes?”

“Three years is not long enough,” she managed, her voice wavering. “I don’t think you should be here. Who let you in?”

He inspected his nails. “Your mother let me in.”

He seemed to be getting at something, dropping a hint, but Anna could not work out what it was.

“I think you should leave,” Anna said, strengthening her voice as best she could. “Right now.”

“Haven’t you ever wondered,” he drawled as if she’d never spoken, “why I never called in your father’s debt? If I had, you would have lost this house, as well as any modicum of respectability. And yet, here you are. Odd, is it not?”

She pressed her lips together. “I assumed my father owed you gambling debts. We wouldn’t be responsible for paying off that sort of thing.”

“Oh, you poor, sweet girl. You truly don’t understand the way the world works. You know, I would have thought you would resent the man more. And yet, I see portraits of our dear Viscount everywhere I go. You all adore him, don’t you? You adore the man who ruined you. And yet, if you only knew whatIhave done for you, you’d be putting portraits ofmein the Great Hall.”

While Anna was fumbling for something to say, torn between shock and fury, he got abruptly to his feet.

She could smell the alcohol when he was only halfway across the room. He kept advancing on her, and Anna found that her feet were stuck to the floor.

“How you have grown,” he murmured, reaching out clammy fingers. They brushed against the curve of her cheek, skimming her jaw.

She felt sick.

“What do you think you are doing?”

They both flinched, spinning around.

The adjoining door to Octavia’s room was open. Octavia stood there, her face pale, wearing a robe that had seen better days.

“We are only having a conversation.” The Earl laughed, his eyes flashing in warning. Anna was more confused by the minute.

“It’s time to go,” Octavia rapped out. “Don’t touch my daughter. Ever. I thought I made that clear.”

Made that clear? How many meetings have you had? What’s going on?

The Earl shrugged, knocking back his glass of whiskey. He set the glass down on a nearby table with aclack.

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