Page 36 of An Arranged Betrothal with a Rogue

The viscount choked on his drink and stared at Andrew with wide eyes. Andrew had to bite down on the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing aloud. His amusement was stifled almost immediately, as the viscount burst into laughter.

Andrew raised an eyebrow, waiting for Lord Worthingwood to catch his breath. He took another sip of his own drink to keep his cool. He could guess why the viscount was laughing, and Andrew didn’t like it one bit.

“Oh, my,” the viscount said, clearing his throat. “Lord Elsbrook. You must be joking.”

Andrew tightened his jaw, and his hand closed firmly around his glass.

“I can assure you, Lord Worthingwood,” he said, speaking the words with an edge of warning, “I do not joke about such matters. And I am not certain what could be amusing about such a request.”

The viscount’s chuckles died away. He stared at Andrew and took another drink, then sat back in his chair.

“You are wasting your time,” he said.

Andrew raised his eyebrows, struggling against the urge to knock the drink out of the smug viscount’s hand.

“Oh?” he asked. “And why is that?”

The man smiled proudly, further increasing Andrew’s temptation.

“It’s simple,” he said as though speaking to a daft man. “I am in the process of sealing a match between my dear daughter and the Earl of Axenshire.”

Andrew snorted, not bothering to hide his disdain.

“What of it?” he asked. “What difference is it to you whether you marry her to him or me?”

The Viscount Worthingwood’s eyes grew wide, and he stared at Andrew for another moment. Andrew thought he was trying to decide whether Andrew was serious, so he ensured his expression conveyed that he was. After another minute, the viscount laughed.

“Oh, Heavens,” he said, his forehead shining with sweat as he chuckled again. “You are quite serious. But I would have to be a fool to turn down an earl in favor of a mere baron.”

The urge to give the Viscount Worthingwood a well-deserved punch became almost too much to bear. He balled his hands into fists underneath the table so the viscount wouldn’t see. He glared at the man until he felt himself regain control of his temper. Then, he leaned forward, putting his hands atop the table, and clasped them together slowly.

“I would be very careful with what you say next,” he said deliberately.

The smirk dropped marginally from the viscount’s face. He looked at Andrew, assessing the gravity of his words. At last, he took another drink and gestured rudely for Andrew to continue. Andrew couldn’t help noticing how disinterested and bored the man looked. Andrew thought he could at least rid the viscount’s face of that smugness.

“That earl of yours has made some very poor business decisions,” he said. “I am certain he has you under the impression that he is incredibly wealthy. But I can assure you he is not as rich as he claims to be.”

Lord Worthingwood’s smile continued to fade.

“You’re bluffing,” he said, sounding as if he didn’t believe it. “You can’t possibly know such a thing.”

It was Andrew’s turn to smirk.

“I can,” he said, holding the viscount’s gaze firmly. “And I do. I will not profess to know his exact fortune. But I know it is little enough that he has recently had some of his belongings repossessed.”

At this, the viscount’s eyes widened in shock. Andrew could see him considering the possibility that it might be true. He could also see that the viscount didn’t care to whom he married his daughter. He only cared about whether they had any money. He realized that would work in his favor, but he waited for the viscount to speak.

“No one else has made mention of this to me,” he said. He was trying to sound nonchalant. But Andrew could see that something in him either knew what Andrew had said was true or, at the very least, he suspected it could be.

“Then you have not been speaking to the right people, my lord,” he said, grinning.

The viscount seemed to notice that Andrew was gloating. His face scrunched up and he sat back, crossing his arms. Andrew thought he was trying to look intimidating, but to him, the viscount looked like nothing more than a pouting child.

“Well, what does that have to do with you marrying her?” he snapped.

Andrew overlooked the fact that he was no longer referring to his daughter by name. He simply smirked, leaning forward toward the viscount, causing him to lean back.

“Because, although I am a mere baron,” he said, drawing out the last two words, “I can assure you that I am extremely wealthy.”

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