When a Girl Loves an Earl (Rescued from Ruin Book 5) by Elisa Braden Page B

perfection—albeit in a male form—this was unexpected.
    He glanced to gauge his friend’s reaction and wanted to groan. Luc’s grin was wide and knowing as it ricocheted between James and the vexing Miss Darling.
    “An admirable display, indeed, my lords,” echoed Penelope, who had finally scooted to the other end of the bench, allowing Viola to plop down in the seat nearest him. Penelope’s nasal tones and ungainly features compared poorly with her cousin’s. And he had found the girl’s wits approximately as sharp as a soup spoon. But she was a good-natured sort who displayed no resentment or jealousy of her beauteous cousin. Penelope leaned forward to address Lucien. “Lord Atherbourne, I had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with Lady Atherbourne before your marriage. Is she in town?”
    While Lucien explained that Victoria had stayed behind at Thornbridge with their son, James dodged the twilight gaze of the daft chit who had set her sights relentlessly upon him. She wore blue today. Pale, sky blue approximately the same shade as the inner ring of her eyes. Those eyes were darker around the edges. More the color of her bonnet. They were quite the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. But, then, she was quite the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Not that it mattered. Despite her persistent and bewildering regard, he had no intention of taking what she offered. None whatsoever.
    A quiet snore sounded from the seat opposite Viola and Penelope. The aunt had fallen asleep while her charges conversed with two men. But he did not glance in the aunt’s direction. His gaze had snagged upon Viola’s lips. Full and curvaceous, the petals were parted ever so slightly, as though they longed for his tongue.
    He swallowed. “I fear Lord Atherbourne and I must be on our way.”
    “We must?”
    Ignoring Lucien’s dry tone, James tipped his hat to the Misses Darling—and the somnolent Mrs. Darling—and took his leave. Blindly, he directed his horse down Rotten Row, feeling a bit like he’d stared into the sun too long. Fifty feet on, he heard Lucien chuckle. “She is still watching you.”
    “Matters not. She is nobody to me.”
    Lucien’s infernal grin only grew. “Hmm. An interesting nobody, indeed.”
     
    *~*~*
     
    You are a perfect goose, Viola castigated herself as she absently refreshed her tea and stirred in a bit of sugar. You will see him again this evening. For now, focus upon your embroidery. But she couldn’t. She still hadn’t stopped tingling, could scarcely draw breath, hours after witnessing Tannenbrook’s daring rescue. The strength of the man, the sheer power in his arms and his thighs. Oh, his thighs.
    “Mama has fallen asleep again,” said Penelope, completing another perfect red stitch in her embroidered floral masterpiece.
    Glancing down at her own efforts, Viola grimaced, her fingers tightening on the embroidery hoop. Loose brown loops formed what should have been a pinecone, but instead resembled a pile of muck. She sighed and set the hoop down on the sofa beside her without touching the needle. Tea. She was adept at pouring tea, she reminded herself as she picked up her cup and took a comforting sip. Tea and conversation. And dancing. Do not forget dancing.
    A snuffle emanated from Aunt Marian’s end of the sofa.
    “Oh!” exclaimed Penelope. “Perhaps she is awake after all.”
    Viola smiled gently at her erstwhile cousin. “No, dearest. She is simply breathing. I believe our adventurous jaunt may have overtaxed her delicate constitution.” Indeed, as their barouche had arrived at the family’s shared town house on North Audley Street, Aunt Marian had managed to shake herself awake. She had even conversed pleasantly for an hour or so before drinking her medicinal tea and slumping into her current state.
    Laughing with her distinctive honk, Penelope agreed. “She is delicate, I daresay. Do you suppose she will be rested enough to accompany us to the Pennywhistle supper