Page 18 of The Virgin and the Viscount

“I know, dear, but it doesn’t make it right. He’s such a sweet boy.”

Sullivan swallowed a groan of disgust. Thomas easily fooled people all the time with his charming smile, but Sullivan kept waiting for the day when their mother would see the truth. “Perhaps it’s time for me to take control of the books and holdings. Thomas did an admirable job in my absence, but they are my duties as viscount.”

“Oh, darling, please don’t take them from him yet. He’s so frustrated about not having an heir, and I believe these tasks keep his mind occupied.”

“Until Matilda and I are married and settled. Then I shall speak to him.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a smile.

“I have many errands to handle today, Mother, least of which is to secure a special license. I’m afraid I shall drop you off at the house and I will see you for dinner later.”

“Sullivan, you are a good man and you know I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy. I know you were saddened when Lady Agnes became betrothed. Perhaps Lady Matilda will bring you happiness.” She patted his cheek, then allowed the groom to assist her out of the carriage.

The truth was he hadn’t been saddened at all. He’d never wanted Agnes. Not that way. He’d bided his time with her, mostly to keep his mother appeased, since it looked to everyone else as if he were courting her. But he hadn’t been. She belonged with Longley. And instead he would be married to a woman he desired but who hated him fiercely. Perhaps there was justice in the world after all.

Matilda fell backward onto her bed, staring up at the canopy of fabric surrounding her.

This had always been her solace; the place she could go and forget about all her troubles. It’s where she’d gone when her favorite nanny had been sent away, all because Melanie had complained about her “harsh treatment.” It was where she went every time her parents showed their favoritism of her sister. Melanie had always been prettier, more poised, more graceful, more talented.

There’d been so many times when she’d wanted to look to Melanie for sisterly advice or approval, but time and again she’d been disappointed. Then when Tilly had foolishly chosen to share of Thomas’s interest in courting her, Melanie had gone behind her back and snared him. He wasn’t titled, but he was from a good family and had a sizable income. But as far as Tilly was concerned Melanie had done it simply to be cruel. She’d stolen Thomas because she could.

Now she was to marry Sullivan. No one had asked her if that’s what she wanted. Her mother had seemed satisfied to hide her in the country, convinced no one would even notice her absence after a few months.

Nothing had truly happened in that inn. Yes, that was the most intimacy she’d ever shared with a man, but it had been accidental and in the name of protection and comfort. Her virtue remained firmly intact, which, oddly enough, her mother hadn’t even questioned. As if there were nothing remotely tempting about Matilda that would make Sullivan try to take advantage of such a situation. It was merely assumed that, despite being alone together for an entire night inside a room in an inn, Sullivan had not touched her.

Not that she wanted him to touch her. Or wanted him to desire her. She certainly did not, because he was the vilest man of her acquaintance. But it would be nice if her mother might have at least questioned whether or not her virtue was intact instead of assuming she repulsed all men. They were her family and she loved them, but they definitely made it challenging at times to like them.

There came a scratching at her bedroom door and Tilly sat up. “Enter.”

Instead of her mother or a maid, as she expected, her friends and fellow Ladies of Virtue members, Harriet and Agnes, came in.

Tilly frowned. “Is everything all right?”

“We heard the rumor. About you and Glenbrook,” Harriet said.

Her cheeks heated. “Already? Good gracious but the gossip in this town moves quickly.”

“What happened?” Agnes asked.

Her friends came in and climbed up to sit with her on her bed. Tilly clutched a pillow to her chest, feeling as if she needed some sort of barrier between her and the other girls.

“My carriage broke down on my return from our country estate. He rescued me from a storm and we had to spend the night in an inn. That is it.”

Agnes exhaled, the air whistling through her teeth. “That is more than enough to ruin your reputation.”

“Evidently,” Tilly said.

“Nothing happened at the inn?” Harriet asked.

Tilly swallowed hard and hoped she didn’t blush. They’d been naked. Together. In a bed. He’d touched her—in his sleep—still, the scrape of his palm across her breast had been tantalizing. Heat flushed over her skin, warming her cheeks and neck and pooling at the juncture of her thighs.

Yes, he had touched her, but he seemed wholly unaffected by it. She had felt warm and tingly, heated in places she never had before. Meanwhile, he had felt…what was that phrase he’d used? Oh, yes. He’d felt, “A normal reaction that occurs during sleep.”

His obvious apathy to her naked body did not bode well for their upcoming nuptials. Not that she wanted him to be…well, not apathetic. She didn’t.

She shook her head, unsure if she was responding to Harriet’s question or her own troubling thoughts.

Harriet leaned forward and squeezed Tilly’s knee. “What shall you do?”

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