Page 69 of Empowered By the Earl (Second Sons of London 3)

“No. That is enough.”

Anger sparked in his eyes as his fingers tightened. “I say when it is enough.”

This time, his mouth slammed down on hers, shocking her. She tried to pull away and he held her in place. Irritation filled her. She had said no. He had not stopped.

Lord Hurley was no gentleman.

Louisa brought her palms to his chest and shoved. Hard. It was enough to break his hold on her shoulders and she leaped to her feet.

“I do not want to kiss you anymore, my lord. I have had enough.”

He rose, his hands latching on to her elbows, holding her in place.

“You say you want a husband. At your age, you’ll have to take who you can get,” he said harshly, suddenly becoming a stranger.

“I would rather remain unwed than be taken advantage of,” she declared, clawing at his hands, trying to win her release.

“I think your father has granted you too much independence, Miss Goulding. You need a husband to bring you to heel.”

Anger surged through her. “I am not some dog to be trained, my lord. I am a rational person with a mind and will of my own. Now, unhand me. Someone could come through and see us.”

“Yes, they could,” he agreed smugly. “If we were kissing, then you would have to wed me.”

With that, he kissed her again. Louisa struggled to free herself, her wrath growing. Words hadn’t stopped him.

It was time to take action.

She lifted her knee slightly—and then rammed it full force into his groin.

He shouted something. She thought it might have beenbitch, which upset her to no end. She watched him fall to the bench, holding himself, a low, guttural sound coming from him.

“I said no more—and I meant it, my lord,” she said, her mouth hard, her gaze penetrating his. “I don’t want to kiss you ever again. I don’t even wish to speak to you again.”

Louisa bent and wrapped her fingers around the basket’s handle and took off at a brisk pace, leaving behind the cursing viscount.

Lord Hurley’s actions made things easy for her. Mentally, she struck a line through his name. He would be the last man she would desire to marry.

She hurried along the winding garden path, her fingers tightening on the basket, her breath coming in gasps.

Mr. Hampton seemed nice but quite bland and the man had absolutely no direction in life. Lord Marksbury was an enigma to her and she felt no desire to try and unravel his layers.

That left Lord Bowling. She would try her best to get to know him better and hope that he was the one for her. If he proved to be unworthy of her, as Lord Hurley had just demonstrated, then she would be happy to remain unwed. Louisa would rather be happy in solitude than miserable with a man who treated her as an object.

She cut through the kitchens, claiming her vase, which a scullery maid filled with water. She stormed up the stairs and to her bedchamber, forcing herself not to slam the door behind her.

Giving herself over to the quiet of the room, she set the basket and the vase down and bathed her face in cool water. It had the expected effect, calming her. She then took a vial of lavender and dabbed a bit on her wrists, rubbing them together before she brought them up and inhaled deeply. As always, lavender brought a sense of tranquility to her.

Not wanting the flowers to wilt, she began placing them one by one into the vase, taking her time in arranging them. When she finished, she nodded to herself, satisfied at how the arrangement had turned out. Louisa placed them on the table and then sat in the chair next to it, staring out the window.

Now, she had two men to avoid during the next week—Owen and Lord Hurley.

At this rate, she might have to leave for the sanctuary of Conley Park sooner rather than later

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