Seducing the Viscount by Alexandra Ivy Page B

conversation often shared around the breakfast tables of the aristocracy,” he drawled. “That is the duty of a nobleman, is it not? To produce a herd of progeny?”
    â€œI . . . I suppose it is.”
    â€œThen why has my father been so reluctant to fetch himself a bride and litter the house with screaming brats?” he demanded. “Could it be that he has yet to discover a woman who can live up to his expectations of perfection?”
    â€œIan, as much as I love you, I cannot bear for you to speak so scathingly of your father.” Without warning, Ella was on her feet and moving toward the nearby door. “If you will excuse me, I believe Mercy will be awaiting me in the parlor.”
    Ian watched her departure with a frown. It was rare for his aunt to lose her temper, and certainly he had never seen her actually storm from a room.
    It was enough to make him wonder if she was truly angered by his less-than-flattering comments concerning his father or if there was something else.
    Something she was hiding.
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    Mercy managed to ignore the pressing urgency to go in search of Ian Breckford until Ella had retired to her rooms to prepare for dinner.
    It had been frighteningly difficult. More than once, she had discovered her thoughts turning to the wicked, fascinating gentleman when she was supposed to be addressing the invitations for Ella’s charity luncheon. And even when she had been allowed her usual hours in the library to work on her studies, her gaze had annoyingly drifted toward the bank of windows, as if she feared she might miss the sight of Ian strolling through the gardens.
    It was thoroughly aggravating.
    And thoroughly unshakable.
    At last she could resist the urge no longer, and, muttering beneath her breath, she left the sanctuary of the library. Moving down the corridor, she had reached the staircase when she noticed the tall, decidedly male form silently slip into the passageway that led to the conservatory.
    For a heartbeat she paused. She might be innocent, but she knew quite well it was not proper to chase after a gentleman like a hound on the scent. Especially not a gentleman who was known throughout England as a prolific rake.
    But then again, as Ella’s companion, it was surely her duty to remind Ian Breckford that his poor aunt had been noticeably disappointed when he had failed to make an appearance for luncheon.
    Not giving herself time to consider, she hurried down the steps and through the passageway.
    It was the first time she had actually entered the massive iron and glass structure, and she was startled by the long bank of shelves that held pot after pot of fragrant flowers. Heavens. There had to be hundreds of plants stacked within the humid heat of the long room, and all of them putting out enough fragrance to choke an elephant. Mercy wrinkled her nose as she followed the paving stones toward the back of the building.
    Rounding an elegant marble statue of Poseidon, complete with trident, Mercy’s steps faltered as she caught sight of her prey standing next to the battered desk that was shoved near the workbench.
    Even with his back turned to her it was obvious that he was rifling through the drawers, occasionally pausing to pull out a stack of papers before continuing with his search. Mercy frowned, but before she could speak, Ian was stiffening as if he sensed her presence.
    She thought he slipped something beneath his jacket before turning to flash her a smile that did not reach his whiskey gold eyes.
    â€œAh, a wood sprite has appeared among the flowers,” he murmured. “You should wear bells, my sweet, if you intend to sneak about.”
    She ignored his taunt. “Are you searching for something?”
    â€œI thought I might make off with the family jewels.” He leaned against the desk, deliberately casual. “That is, if you do not mind?”
    â€œNot especially.” She drifted closer to the energy that shimmered