Page 44 of For a Lady's Fiery Heart
His heart immediately sank, and he grew even more nervous as she closed the door and approached the desk. "Good afternoon, Viscount," she said.
James stood at once and tried to bar her from coming any closer. "Lady Beatrice. What can I do for you?" he asked. When she went around him, he stepped hurriedly to the door and opened it, making sure that if someone did pass by, they would not misconstrue what was happening. "I am busy at present."
Lady Beatrice went over to the desk and picked up one of his pieces of paper. "I can see. What is all this, James?" she asked. She turned around and placed her hands on the edge of his desk, giving him a mischievous grin. "I never knew you to bury yourself in work."
James stayed by the door, as far away from her as possible. "I was a boy when you knew me. I am a man now." He narrowed his eyes at her. She looked over her shoulder and eyed the piles of missives and scraps of paper that had jotted notes and figures from when he and Caroline had been at Pembroke.
"Yes, I know that very well," she purred. She leaned back, sitting on the edge of his desk. He bounced his eyes away from her slender form. He knew that she had worn his favourite colour on purpose–dark navy blue with white Brussels lace around the bottom of the sleeves and collar. But he would not give her the satisfaction of looking at her for more than a few seconds at a time.
He straightened, frowning at her boldness. "As I said, I am very busy, Lady Beatrice. If there is something I can help you with, tell me at once. If not, I suggest you find other means of amusement."
She pouted, lowering her gaze in a show of false reticence. Lady Beatrice sighed heavily and pushed herself away from the desk.
"You never used to be so gruff with me, James," she said, looking like an injured doe. His mind rebelled against the softening of his heart. James knew her ways. She could twist a person's feelings until they did not know which way was up, and then she would use them to her own advantage.
"I beg your pardon," he said. However, his tone did not soften. He wanted to be clear that what they had shared in their younger years was now dead. Old feelings of bitterness welled up inside him. He wished she would leave before he said something unpleasant. He sighed, wishing there was a way he could get her out of his hair faster without having to be rude, however much he felt like it.
"Is there something I can alert the housekeeper of to make your stay more enjoyable?"
She shrugged.
"Quite frankly, I am bored. All Lady Grace seems to want to do is sketch away in that little book of hers. I understand wanting to become accomplished for the sake of attracting a husband. Still, it seems to me that she has already captured Sir Knowles's attention."
She raised a brow, seductively smiling all the while. "One would think she had more than done her duty in improving herself."
James's ire rose. "She is very young yet–not yet sixteen. I should think that a lady of good breed should never be done improving themselves."
"Ahh, so it is up to the lady to be well-bred and mannered and not the man?" she asked. She slinked toward him, and he instinctively backed away from her. Lady Beatrice halted, looking hurt. "Really, James. It is as if you think I am going to bite."
"I would not put it past you," he murmured. "Now, I am sorry you are without distraction, but we lead a very dull life here in the country. If you were in want of entertainment, it might have served you better to convince your husband to let you stay on with friends in London."
Lady Beatrice walked back toward the door. "Well, I did not realise I was unwelcome," she said with a huff. Lady Beatrice lifted her chin, her blue eyes flashing. Her dark brunette curls bounded as she headed towards the door, albeit slowly.
He was not going to argue with her. "Perhaps you might ask Lady Grace if she would like to go for a walk? The gardens are very diverting this time of year." He turned and headed back toward the desk, grateful that it seemed the end of her unwanted visit was in sight.
Lady Beatrice smiled up at him as she approached. "Do you still keep your exotic plant species in the green house?"
"I do," he replied. James inwardly cringed. He should not have engaged her in any semblance of a conversation whatsoever. However, propriety kept him from ignoring her completely, especially with the added weight of angering his father should he be rude to a guest while under his roof.
"Perhaps you would like to show me? Your father told Sir Gerald and me that you recently returned from your tour of Europe and that you even ventured into India and Asia? I am sure you brought back many interesting florae?" Lady Beatrice stepped closer, but he sidestepped and went around her, hurrying behind the desk.
"I did. But I have not the time at the moment. Perhaps Lady Grace, or even my father, might show you?" He sank into the chair and started picking through the stack of papers again, hoping that his inattention would help her to exit the room faster.
"Oh, no. It must be you. They would not know where to begin telling me about the different species or where they came from. No, I insist. I shall wait until your convenience to show me around the hothouse," she said.
James exhaled, sighing heavily. "Well, I am not sure when that will be. I am–"
"I know, I know.Very busy."
Lady Beatrice shot him a long-suffering scowl, and to his chagrin, she came back into the room. She stopped in front of the desk, brushing her fingers over the globe that took up the right corner. Lady Beatrice spun the globe and lifted her eyes to his.
"How are things going with the little wife? I have so looked forward to getting to know her better, but she is nowhere to be found today."
James let the papers he had been about to sift through fall to the desktop.
"She has duties around the house now. She is the lady of the house, after all." He nodded toward the hall. "Indeed, it would not surprise me if she were arranging the menus for the week to accommodate your tastes."
"Really? I was under the impression that your father would try to keep control of the household and the accounts until he took his dying breath." Lady Beatrice started coming around the corner of the desk, and James stood, wishing to have a quick escape if she came any closer.
