Page 40 of The Viscount and the Vicar's Daughter
“I try my best.”
“Perhaps after your party, you and I can ride to Trent Hall. I’ve neglected it a little this past year. It is no surprise, since I am slowing down a bit. Perhaps it is time you took over the running of Trent Hall as well as Ardley.”
He nodded. “Suits me.”
His father smiled. “You will notice I have given up on talking you into coming to London. Your mother insisted you would never agree, but I had to try. So we shall do it your way and have you get to know those threetondiamonds. Hopefully, you’ll find one you like and marry her.”
“Perhaps, but I’m not making that decision over one weekend.”
“But is that not the entire point of your party? Why not choose one and be done with it?”
“Be done with it? Decide in haste and spend the rest of my life regretting it?”
His father sighed. “I do not understand you, son.”
“Nor do I,” he said quietly.
When his father finished his coffee, they walked down to the stable and had their mounts saddled. The day was filled with sunshine, but there was a stiff breeze and a dampening to the air that boded rain by afternoon. “We’d better get through our ride quickly or we’ll be caught in a downpour.”
The soft, white billowing clouds he’d awoken to this morning were now darker and beginning to thicken overhead. He and his father managed to visit two farms before Alexander felt a few raindrops and suggested they turn back. “We’ll call upon the rest tomorrow if the weather clears. Let’s ride back to Ardley Hall.”
“You’ll have no protest from me, son.”
They had just passed through the town of Ardley and were nearing the vicarage when the rain began to fall in earnest. Alexander was about to spur his mount to a gallop when he saw Viola hurrying out of the vicar’s residence with her basket of supplies. He watched her glance up, tuck her shawl over her head, and then start running to the manor house.
He called out to her.
She ignored him and kept running.
He rode up to her and cut her off. “What are you doing?” he asked, now dismounting. “You’ll be soaked.”
Without giving her the chance to protest, he lifted her onto his horse and climbed on behind her. “My lord!”
“Quiet. I’ll not have you sopping wet by the time you reach my kitchen. I can assure you, it is most uncomfortable.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and held her firmly against his chest as he galloped off.
His father rode beside him, his expression one of utter disapproval.
Well, there would be hell to pay for this.
At least Viola would be dry.
She squirmed in his arms in order to face him.
Her cheeks were in flames and fire shot from her eyes.
Great, she was embarrassed and angry.
He did not care.
Nor could he think straight while she continued to squirm against him.
Fire consumed him every time she wiggled her backside against his thighs.
He could hardly see straight by the time they reached his stable. He dismounted and then reached up to assist her. She looked as though she wanted to smack him in the face rather than thank him for keeping her out of the rain.
She cast him a blistering look, then tore out of the stable with her basket wildly swinging at her side as she ran toward the servants entrance.
He felt a dull ache to his heart.
