Vice by Jane Feather Page A

accept my condolences…. Such a terrible tragedy.” The crisp tones of Lady Amelia Forsett preceded the lady as she entered the library through the open terrace doors.
    A tall woman of haughty demeanor, she sketched a curtsy. George, intimidated despite his anger, bowed low in return. Lady Forsett’s clear pale-blue eyes assessed him and seemed to find him wanting. A chilly smile touched the corners of her mouth. “I trust I haven’t interrupted your business with my husband.”
    “Not at all, my dear,” Sir Brian reassured smoothly. “Sir George was just leaving.” He pulled the bell rope.
    Amelia curtsied again, and George, thus dismissed, found himself moving backward out of the library underthe escort of a footman who seemed to have appeared out of thin air.
    “What did that lumpen oaf want?” Amelia came straight to the point as the door closed behind their guest.
    “As far as I can gather, he wishes to consign Juliana to the hangman with all dispatch, so that he can reclaim that part of his inheritance that formed her jointure.”
    “Dear me,” murmured Lady Forsett. “What vulgar haste. His father is but three days in his own grave.”
    “The entire business is utterly distasteful,” her husband said. “Of all the farcical—”
    “Typical of Juliana,” his wife interrupted, her thin lips pursing. “Such a clumsy, inconsiderate creature.”
    “Yes, but where
is
she?” Sir Brian interrupted with a familiar note of irritation. “Why would she run away? She couldn’t possibly have been responsible for the man’s death.” He cast his wife an inquiring look. “Could she?”
    “Who’s to say?” Lady Forsett shook her head. “She’s always been a wild and troublesome girl.”
    “With an immoderate temper,” her husband put in, frowning. “But I find it hard to believe she could have deliberately—”
    “Oh, not deliberately, no,” Lady Forsett interrupted. “But you know how she’s always doing the most inconvenient and inconsiderate things quite by accident. And if she flew off the handle …”
    “Quite.” Sir Brian chewed his lower lip, still frowning. “The whole business already bids fair to becoming the county scandal of the decade. If it comes to court, it will be hideous.”
    “Let us hope she isn’t found,” his wife said bluntly. “Then it will die down soon enough. If we don’t search diligently for her, who else would bother?”
    “George Ridge.”
    “Ahh … of course.” Lady Forsett tidied up a tumbling pile of leather-bound volumes on a side table.
    “But I doubt he has the wit to succeed,” her husband said. “He’s no brighter than his oaf of a father.”
    “Juliana, on the other hand—”
    “Is as quick-witted as they come,” Sir Brian finished for her with an arid smile. “If she doesn’t wish to be found, I’ll wager it’ll take more than George Ridge to catch her.”
    George Ridge was still scowling as he rode out of the stable yard at Forsett Towers. His mount was a raw-boned gray, as ugly-tempered as his master, and he tossed his head violently, curling his lips back over the cruel curb bit. When his rider slashed his flank with his crop, the horse threw back his head with a high-pitched whinny, reared, and took off down the uneven gravel driveway as if pursued by Lucifer’s pitchfork-carrying devils.
    George had received even less satisfaction from the Forsetts than he’d expected. He cursed Sir Brian for an arrogant, nose-in-the-air meddler who hadn’t the decency even to offer to assist in the search for his ungovernable, murdering, fugitive erstwhile ward.
    Juliana.
George pulled back on the reins as he turned the horse out of the gate and onto the lane.
Juliana.
Her image filled his internal vision in a hot, red surge of lust. He licked his lips. He’d lusted after her ever since he’d first seen her on the arm of his besotted, drooling father. His father’s massive bulk had made her seem small as she walked beside him, but it