The Notorious Countess

by Liz Tyner

  “People must have something to talk about... And I do make for a good tale.”

  After escaping an unhappy marriage, Lady Riverton enjoys her notoriety among the ton...even if her reputation isn’t deserved. But when she’s caught in a most compromising position with Andrew Robson, for the first time the truth is even more scandalous than the rumors!

  And yet, in Andrew’s arms, Beatrice finds she’s no longer defined by her reputation and is free to be the woman she truly is. Is it time for Beatrice to trust in Andrew and end her reign of scandal once and for all?

  “I am used to having people speak of me,” she said. “They must speak of someone, so why not me? I have laughed the loudest. Life is a grand jest.”

  Then she reached up, pushing an escaped curl toward her bun but feeling the wisp spring back into place.

  “Perhaps.” He stepped forward and, with his left hand, captured the curl. Andrew’s fingers brushed her skin as he slipped the errant lock behind her ear. “But, Lady Riverton, there is more to you than words in a scandal sheet.”

  She put her hand on his sleeve. “You don’t understand the vipers of the world. They wish to bite, not cuddle. I cannot turn them into lambs.”

  “No.” His voice quietened, but it didn’t lose the rumble, the masculine richness that pulled her like a vine twining toward the sun. “I can help you, though. We can create a new world around you. One in which you glitter as you should. This blunder tonight could be fortunate. It can be the moment you begin painting the world around you in the colors you wish.”

  “You are daft. No one has a brush that can do as you suggest.”

  “What is the harm in trying?”

  Author Note

  Hand me a romance novel with a tortured hero brooding in his mansion, rescued from his solitude by the love of a beautiful woman, and I’m hooked. But I wanted to add a different perspective to the old tale of a beauty and her brutish hero. I thought of a heroine wanting to hide in her art studio, and a hero hoping to rescue her from her scandals.

  After viewing James Gillray’s caricatures, and some of the less acceptable drawings his contemporaries created, I realized that an unfavorable portrait circulated in the early 1800s in London might have been similar in scope for the subject as having a picture posted on the internet would be today. The term scandal sheets is a relatively modern term, but I wanted to use it as a vehicle to illustrate the concept of news traveling fast.

  With that in mind, Beatrice and Andrew’s story began, and I embraced writing it. I hope the characters curl into your heart as they did mine.

  Liz Tyner

  The Notorious Countess

  Liz Tyner lives with her husband on an Oklahoma acreage she imagines is similar to the one in the children’s book Where the Wild Things Are. Her lifestyle is a blend of old and new, and is sometimes comparable to how people lived long ago. Liz is a member of various writing groups and has been writing since childhood. For more about her, visit liztyner.com.

  Books by Liz Tyner

  Harlequin Historical

  English Rogues and Grecian Goddesses

  Safe in the Earl’s Arms

  A Captain and a Rogue

  Forbidden to the Duke

  Stand-Alone Novel

  The Notorious Countess

  Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Epilogue

  Excerpt from Want Ad Wife by Katy Madison

  Chapter One

  Andrew Robson felt a burning urge to smash in his cousin Foxworthy’s nose. One more story about Lady So-and-So’s eyes or Lady This-and-That’s breasts or Lady Whoever’s whatever and he would punch Fox right in that ugly face of his that women swooned over.

  Brandy in hand, Fox leaned sideways, catching his balance to keep from falling off the desk. ‘You’re a virgin.’ He sloshed liquid on his frock coat, but it hardly showed against the dark wool.

  Andrew gripped the ledger. If it had been any other book, Fox would have felt the weight of the volume right between the eyes. ‘My life is not your concern.’

  ‘How many times have I invited you along on my encounters and you have declined?’ Fox finished his brandy and then stared at the empty glass, yawning. ‘I’m thirsty,’ he grumbled, and reached for the pull to summon a servant. He missed and almost lost his balance again.

  ‘Reach the decanter yourself,’ Andrew snapped.

  Fox yawned, refilled his glass and pinned a glance on Andrew. ‘Who have you done?’

  Andrew picked up his brandy, swirled the liquid and downed it. ‘A gentleman doesn’t speak of such things to another man.’

  ‘Neither does a virgin. And I’ve told you of every skirt I’ve lifted since I discovered what I had behind my buttons.’

  ‘I suppose less than half of those tales are true and less than half of those occurred as you recounted them.’

  Fox grimaced, patting the stopper on the decanter. ‘I do not do numbers, my friend. Quality—not quantity—always my rule.’ Fox frowned. ‘You’re my cousin. My blood. And you’ve no notion of the true pleasures of life. You stand there so—’ He twirled his finger. ‘Sombre, dressed like a man in mourning... Or dressed like the man already buried. And you’ve reason to look grim, I suppose. No woman to put a smile on your face.’

  ‘I have to hide you from enough husbands and beaus that I don’t relish doing it for myself.’ That was the only thing he truly hated about Fox. His cousin did not understand how his actions could affect others.

  ‘I told you,’ Fox murmured. ‘They jump to conclusions. Because I am such a stallion, a man cannot bear to see me even talking with his wife without assuming I have ulterior motives.’

  ‘You do.’

  ‘But you do not. You ever tup that Hannah woman you spoke so poetic about?’

  ‘Most certainly not. She was quality. An innocent. One does not despoil innocents.’

  ‘She wasn’t when she was in my bed last summer.’

  Fury pumped into Andrew’s body. ‘You did not defile Hannah.’ He slapped a palm on to the book on his desk. ‘Even you could not have taken an innocent.’

  Fox shrugged and held up the glass. ‘We were in love. You should try it.’ He gave the lopsided grin which made skirts flutter. ‘You’d be a lot happier if you’d just drop your trousers more.’

  Andrew’s hand clenched the book. He stepped towards his cousin, the tome held firm. He might not throw the book at him, but he could use it to knock him to the ground. ‘You dared ruin an innocent? Unforgivable!’

  Fox saw something in Andrew’s eyes, because he stepped quickly behind the desk. ‘She really wasn’t a loss, Andrew. Trust me. Just another butterfly for my nectar.’

  ‘I will kill you.’

  ‘Andrew.’ Fox put the glass on the table and held up both hands, backing away. ‘Innocent cousin. You only feel this way because you have not been able to put your little sceptre in the proper hands.’

  ‘You are going to die—’ Andrew slammed the book down, almost hitting the inkwell, and knocking a vase of roses to th
e carpet. He skirted around the desk. Fox sidestepped.

  ‘My funeral,’ Fox muttered, head high, ‘will be attended by many distraught ladies.’

  ‘—a slow death. A particularly slow death.’ Andrew stepped forward, crunching glass and crushing a bloom under his foot, bringing the scent of roses into the fray.

  ‘And move into eternity with a smile on my face for ever.’ Fox’s words wavered into a chuckle.

  Andrew realised Fox was sliding closer to the door. Andrew dived across the corner of the desk, grabbing Fox’s coat-tails, pulling him back and slamming them both to the floor. Fox grunted as Andrew landed on his cousin’s back.

  Fox scrambled, trying to crawl from Andrew’s grasp. The cur would take his punishment. He would learn respect for women.

  Andrew secured Fox’s wrist, stopping his escape, but Fox kicked out, delivering a bruising blow to the shin. Andrew shifted forward, grabbing the neck of Fox’s coat and digging his fingers into the back of the cravat, pulling it tight.

  Fox coughed and sputtered.

  Andrew gave another lunge, pinning his cousin to the floor. The cravat worked to hold the bounder still.

  ‘I’ll forgive you for killing me, but do not hurt my face,’ Fox growled. ‘I’ll get you a woman. Let me go. The passions you do not release are turning you into a savage.’

  Andrew gave a twist of the cloth. ‘If you dare ruin another woman, you will not live to regret it.’

  ‘You’re...choking me...’ Fox’s voice wavered.

  Andrew applied more pressure and then let up slightly. ‘You will propose to Hannah.’

  ‘I cannot,’ Fox said, arms flailing. ‘She is in love with Lord Arvin. I allowed her to call me by his name and we were both pleased.’

  Andrew paused. ‘I find that more than a little odd.’ He released the cravat, twisted his body up and slapped his hand across the back of Fox’s head with a satisfying pop. Fox’s hair briefly splayed before falling back into a tousled look Andrew could not even accomplish with a valet’s help.

  Andrew perched back so Fox could rise.

  ‘You would,’ Fox said, sitting and arranging his cravat. ‘You do not have the first notion of passion. You need someone like Sophia Swift to teach you’

  Andrew stood and dusted his knees. ‘I will not get within a furlong of that crazed woman.’ He straightened his lapel and spoke softly. ‘She bit me.’

  Fox stilled. ‘Women sometimes bite. It’s all in play.’ He took in hearty breaths and pushed himself to his feet. ‘I’ll explain once I have another drink.’

  Moving quickly, Andrew pulled off his coat and slung the garment on the desk. Then he undid the buttons of his waistcoat and dropped the silk to the floor. He pulled his white linen shirt from his trousers and raised the garment from his skin. He pointed to the scar on his chest.

  ‘She. Bit. Me.’ His teeth clamped on the last word.

  Fox leaned forward, staring, eyes wide. ‘Made a lasting mark.’ He peered closer for a few seconds. ‘She does have well-spaced teeth.’

  ‘I am sure she will be happy to bite you. I will even suggest it to her. But I cannot remain enthusiastic when a woman draws blood and it is smeared on her cheek. I cannot.’

  That had been in his sixteenth year. His father had suggested that Andrew must partake of a woman’s favours or he would never be able to use good judgement in finding a wife. He gave Andrew instructions he said he wished his own father had given him. He’d even made sure Andrew could stay the whole night at Mrs Smith’s establishment.

  Sophia was only a few years older than Andrew and she’d promised to show him all he would ever need to know. They’d had a grand time initially, but that had not lasted long past the first kiss. She was all he could have wanted—and then her passion had overcome her.

  ‘Hellish.’ Fox stared at the skin. His voice rose. ‘And she was willing?’

  ‘She was. I was not—any longer.’ Andrew threw down the tail of his shirt. ‘Some day a wife will see these marks.’

  Fox straightened. He squinted and said, ‘Do not concern yourself. While saving a lady—an invalid grandmother—from a cutpurse, the thief bit you. He was taken to Newgate and sentenced to death.’ Then his eyes twinkled. ‘Or maybe just tell the truth.’ His voice turned poetic, he took in a breath and put a palm to his chest. ‘A woman driven mad by passion.’

  ‘She is just mad.’ Andrew shook his head. ‘Fingernails like talons and...three mirrors.’ The sight of the dishevelled woman begging his pardon from three angles had been rather like a bad dream.

  ‘I might take you up on the offer to meet her.’ Fox looked the ceiling. ‘To see if you tell the truth.’

  ‘Oh, by all means, please do. The two of you should get on quite well together.’ He shook his head. That night he’d felt he’d been in a room with a marauding animal. In the beginning, Sophia’s vigour had grown with his own, but then he’d had to calm her when she’d realised what she’d done to him. He’d spent an hour reassuring her that it did not hurt—all the while it did hurt. He’d not wanted a repeat of such an encounter. The one time he had let himself be swept away by passion, it had turned on him. His father had been right that the encounter with Sophia would make Andrew a man. He’d felt one from that night forward, though perhaps not in the way his father had intended.

  ‘You really must learn to experience life.’ Foxworthy’s throat rumbled with a fluttery burst of smug disapproval.

  ‘Ha,’ Andrew grumbled, pulling his coat from the desktop and hooking a hand over the back of a chair. He slid the seat to the front of the desk. He sat, and both hands gripped his coat, but he didn’t don it. ‘I see you dancing on clouds one moment. The next you are wallowing on the floor in a drunken heap because of the fickle nature of your heart. You think to be in love and say she is the one for you for ever, and then she falls into your arms and you can’t bear her. Next you distance yourself and hurt her. Or she returns to her husband and forgets you—in which case you cannot get her name off your lips.’

  ‘It’s all worth it.’ Fox sniffed.

  Andrew snorted. ‘The next time you are knocking on my door at midnight wanting to hide due to a jealous husband or you’re gasping tears of despair because this month’s one and only true love has not fallen at your feet, I will remind you, But it’s all worth it, and kick you out on your arse.’

  Fox straightened tall, his chin up. ‘I visit your house because I wish to play cards with you. Sometimes I am a bit melancholy due to the fickleness of women. Or sometimes I may have had a misadventure. But I am not hiding.’

  ‘You wish to sleep without worry of someone bursting into your house to kill you. You learned nothing from your father.’

  Fox’s eyes narrowed. ‘And you learned nothing from yours.’

  A cannon blast of thoughts plunged into Andrew’s head and mixed with a powder keg of emotion. Andrew clenched his fist, tightened his stance and locked eyes with Fox. Neither moved.

  ‘I beg your pardon,’ Fox said, raising hands, palms out. ‘You know I meant nothing by that.’

  Slowly, with the precision of climbing backwards from a cliff edge, Andrew calmed himself. He would not let anger overtake him. Even when he had throttled Fox, Andrew knew he’d not really been in a fury, but acting in the only manner Fox listened to.

  Andrew squelched the emotion and controlled himself. Fox did not consider his actions or his speech before doing either. His cousin never saw the rashness of any behaviour. He likely would have been killed long before if not for Andrew’s intervention.

  ‘Fox. Tread softly.’ Andrew spoke in a controlled voice.

  Fox examined Andrew’s eyes, and then stepped back, raising a palm. ‘I meant nothing by it. You know that. So your father had one little misstep in life.’ He shrugged. ‘He was better to us than my father ever was. I did not mean to speak ill of him. I have mourned him more than I would my own father.’

  The familiar pang of grief touched Andrew’s chest, but anger tempered i
t. He wasn’t furious at his father any longer, but Fox was another matter. He continued to cause disruption in other people’s lives by acting on his desires. Constantly, Fox either broke someone’s heart or his own, and he always landed on Andrew’s doorstep. But within a few days, his cousin’s melancholy would fade and he’d be in love again, for what it was worth.

  Fox sighed, but then his eyes sparked and his lips turned up. ‘It saddens me to see you dying on the vine.’

  Andrew blinked. ‘Dying on the vine? No. If I need to see the rightness of my actions I only have to look at you. You’re the one landing in an overripe mess on the ground.’

  ‘Sadly, I think you may have a point.’ Fox turned his back. ‘I may have erred. Caused irretrievable damage to a young woman.’

  ‘You’ve done that countless times.’

  ‘But this time...’ His shoulders heaved from the breath he took. ‘I fear she was of too gentle a nature. Too delicate. And I worry that she will not recover.’ Fox turned to Andrew. ‘I have received a post from her friend telling me of the woman’s deep sadness. I fear... I fear she might take her life.’

  ‘You cannot be serious.’

  ‘I am, very.’

  ‘Then you must inform her family so they can take care she is not overwrought too extremely.’ He moved forward. He would make sure Fox did not shirk his duty.

  ‘I can’t. She does not live with them. She’s a pathetic little thing. Companion. Survives in her lady’s shadow. Never gets to go about. The other women jest about her. Call her a spinster. I thought to show her some compassion and make her realise how beautiful she is on the inside. Instead, she became quite infatuated with me. When I told her I did not love her, I thought she understood. But it’s said she is quite despondent. I fear seeing her again. It will only increase her misery.’

  ‘Seeing you does increase mine. But you must make sure she does not do something even more foolish than she already has.’

  ‘If I promise—’ Fox put a hand across his heart ‘—that I will take more care in the future, will you please check on her to see that she is recovering? Ascertain she will get over me. Just give her one of those same talks you give me about what a disaster I am.’