Page 26 of The Viscount's Unwanted Bride
What was happening with this man?
She set her spoon aside and curled her hands around her cup of tea, grateful for the warmth it provided. She glanced out the window. The rain had stopped, but gray clouds loomed overhead, and she wouldn’t be surprised if the rain started again later.
“What would you be doing today if not for the situation we find ourselves in?” she asked, curious to learn more about him—in order to inform her decision if nothing else.Considering the rumors about the viscount, she needed to determine his character.
He drew back slightly, the furrow between his brows deepening. “Either managing my estate or reviewing documents for parliament.”
“Do you always attend parliament?” She’d heard that some lords didn’t care for the future of the country and chose to ignore their seat in the House of Lords.
He nodded stiffly. “I consider it my duty to England to attend. It’s the only reason I come to London these days.”
How fascinating. If he was only in London to sit in parliamentary sessions, then why had he been at the Wembley ball?
“Do you enjoy it?” she asked.
He pursed his lips. “I don’t do it for the sake of enjoyment. I do it to serve my country in the best way I can.”
So, no, then. She’d assume he didn’t enjoy it.
“That’s very honorable of you.” She sipped her tea, searching for another avenue of conversation. She was angry with him and wary of him but also needed to work out whether she could salvage this situation.
“Is this your first season?” he asked, eyeing the biscuits but not making any move to grab one.
She frowned. “No, it’s my second.”
She could have sworn she’d told him that last night.
“Ah. I see.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably. “How is your season thus far?”
“Rather stressful, as I’m sure you’re aware.” He was, after all, in the same position she was, although the damage to his reputation wouldn’t be as consequential as it would be to hers.
He winced. “Er, yes. Forgive me. That was an ill-conceived question.”
Kate glanced along the room to where Sophie was quietly drinking her own tea and pretending not to listen in. She wished she had her friend’s courage. No doubt Sophie would have made some kind of scathing remark if she were in Kate’s shoes, but all Kate had been able to bring herself to do was glare.
“How long will you be in London, my lord?”
“Until parliament closes prior to Christmas,” he replied.
It struck her then how very strained this whole thing was. Last night, he’d seemed reluctant to give her his name—and now that she knew it, she could understand why—but he’d flirted and been quite charming.
A possibility occurred to her, and her heart squeezed. It would explain the reason he hadn’t recognized her and give him an excuse for forgotten aspects of their conversation.
She sighed. “I’m sorry to ask this, but were you soused last night, my lord?”
He stared. Blinked. Stared some more. “I beg your pardon?”
She ducked her head. “I don’t mean to cause offense. I’d just like to know so I can better understand. Something about you seems different today.”
“Oh.” He looked taken aback but then schooled his features. “I may have been a little tipsy. I don’t believe I was inebriated. Unless I… I didn’t do anything to make you believe I was out of my mind, did I?”
“No, you didn’t,” she hurried to assure him.
“Good.” He was visibly relieved. Perhaps he had been more drunk than he wanted to admit, if he was so concerned about his behavior. He ought to remember at least some of it.
Kate heard crunching and looked over her shoulder at Sophie, who pulled a face and stuffed the rest of a biscuit into her mouth.
Blackwell leaned toward her. “What do you like to do with your time?”
