His Scandalous Viscountess (Lustful Lords Series Book 3)

by Sorcha Mowbray

  To her surprise, once she’d agreed, he’d tried to push for a grand affair. Terrified she would balk before such a production could occur, she had insisted on a small, private ceremony. She needed the wedding to happen quickly, before she could do something foolish, like change her mind.

  Her palms had grown sweaty and her face felt hot, as though her cheeks were flushed, and her body was covered in chills.

  It was nerves.

  Normal bridal jitters.

  Ros walked up the stairs and found her heading the wrong direction. “Julia!”

  Her sister whispering her name stopped her cold. She turned to face her. “I was just going to make sure I didn’t forget my handkerchief.”

  Ros stood there, one eyebrow lifted. “The one crumpled in your hand?”

  She sighed. “Very well. But this is a mistake. I cannot do this.”

  He will change the moment I say I do.

  Her sister snorted. “And why not? You managed to go through with marrying that doddering old fool Wallthorpe.”

  “I was angry and hurt then. Devastated when Wolf deserted me. So numb from it all I didn’t care what happened at that point.”

  Julia hated reliving the hopelessness she’d felt in the days after Wolf had left her standing on a dark London street corner alone. That moment had killed every romantic notion she’d ever harbored. And here she was relying on the very same man to save her from yet another Wallthorpe.

  Or more accurately, from the very same one who had wreaked havoc on her life once before.

  Her breath stalled in her chest as her body tensed and her thoughts raced. She kept telling herself to calm down, but it was as if her mind was on a runaway locomotive with no emergency brake.

  “Julia, he’s your best friend.”

  Sometimes it was hard to remember that Ros was her younger sister.

  “Was. Once, long ago.” Her breathing came in harsh pants as her stomach twisted in knots.

  What am I doing?

  “You have been lovers for weeks now. Clearly there is some spark left between the pair of you.”

  Pink blossomed high on Ros’ cheeks.

  Julia couldn’t hide her surprise. “You know?”

  “Only a blind man would miss the obvious attraction between you.”

  “I don’t trust him.” Her heart ached at the words, but she said them loudly and clearly, as though they weren’t a lie.

  Take a deep breath. Remember, it is Wolf you are marrying, not Wallthorpe.

  Ros shook her head. “You do trust him. You simply must let yourself do so.”

  Panic set in then. The ache in her heart turned into a painful squeezing that robbed the air from her chest. She drew a breath, but could barely collect a lungful, and tried to draw another. The heat in her face seemed to grow hotter.

  What if marrying him ruins everything? What if I lose my best friend?

  Finally, unnerved by the continued standoff between heart and mind, she yelled at Ros, “I don’t love him!”

  The silence was deafening in the wake of her roared declaration.

  A low growl sounded below, and she peered over the balustrade to see the man she was about to marry standing there with his best man. Without a word, he turned and marched into the salon where the ceremony was to take place.

  “Oh, God! What have I done?” Julia wobbled on unsteady legs until Ros guided her to a nearby bench.

  “Calm down,” her sister cooed as she rubbed her lace-covered back.

  How can I possibly go through with the wedding now? There has to be another way!

  “Julia, you’re breathing too fast. You need to calm down,” Ros urged her again.

  “I-I-” Fear had set in, and now she was left with nowhere to turn. There was only Wolf.

  There had only ever been Wolf.

  “Listen to me.” Ros cupped Julia’s face in her delicate hands and forced her to look in her eyes. “That is a good man down there. He is marrying you despite knowing you don’t want this. He is doing so only to protect you. He is not like Wallthorpe. He is not going to desert you again. And truth be told, you do not have another choice. There is no other way to protect yourself from Wallthorpe.”

  Inspiration struck. “I could give him all the money!”

  Ros shook her head. “The man is obsessed with you. He would simply use the wealth you gave him to trap you somehow. You know marriage is the only way. It worked once before. Stop and consider who else you would rather marry.”

  Julia tamped down the buzzing sound in her head and tried to think through all the men she knew. There wasn’t a single one she would consider marrying outside of Wolf. Not even the sexy Mr. Lucifer. “You’re right.”

  “I am. Now, you must pull yourself together and go down there and get married. Everyone is waiting, but most importantly, Wolf is waiting.”

  “How can I face him when I just shouted that I don’t love him?” Jules felt awful, mostly because she was terrified it wasn’t true, and that she was in denial about how she felt about him.

  “You don’t have another choice. Now, chin up, and go down there and get married. The rest will work itself out.”

  Ros helped her stand, and then together, they walked downstairs. At the bottom, her sister separated from her and the music started as she walked inside.

  Then it was her turn.

  On aspic-filled legs, she made her way into the salon and faced her less-than-pleased groom.

  Wolf watched Jules come towards him, but in truth, all he could hear was her voice shouting I don’t love him! He’d suspected it, known it even, but it still hurt to hear her say it. Hurt to know it unequivocally. The ring of a heated conversation had given him pause as he’d walked from the library. Concern for Jules had him turning to verify if it was her voice he’d heard.

  And then there had been no doubt as she’d peeked over the bannister.

  And still, he knew with every fiber of his being that he would not walk away from her in this moment. Not when she needed him so desperately. Not again.

  So he sucked up his own pain. Pushed it down deep inside, and waited for her. A violinist played Mendelssohn's Wedding March as Jules slowly made her way up the small aisle. Sans veil, her glorious red hair glowed in the morning light that streamed in through the windows of his front parlor. His heart skipped a beat as she made her way toward him.

  Her gaze was trained downward, either on her bouquet, or even the floor. What mattered was that she would not look up at him. That made his chest ache, made him hate that she did not want this marriage. And while it seemed selfish that he had finally got what he wanted, even at the expense of her desires, he refused to stop the wedding. Not when it was the only way he could ensure she remained safe.

  As she reached him at the altar, she finally looked up at him. Her beautiful green eyes were dark with some emotion. Regret? Anger? He couldn't be sure, but it cut him to the quick and savaged an already deep wound. Resolved that she may well hate him once it was all over, he took her hand and faced the parson with her at his side.

  By the time their vows had been exchanged—hers in a quivering voice that rang with all the doubt she’d shared in the foyer—he was focused on reminding her that he was her friend. Not her enemy.

  Breakfast was an interminable parade of dishes. How Jules had coordinated the preparation of so many courses in such a short amount of time was amazing. But then, he already knew she was an uncommon woman. He refused to be a lovesick fool, so he tried to focus on eating the pheasant, eggs, and savory patties loaded on his plate.

  Jules leaned close to him. “Are you doing well?”

  Wolf refrained from snorting at his new wife. He shoved a forkful of eggs in his mouth to avoid having to respond.

  A few moments passed, and then she leaned close once more. “May I offer my apologies?”

  He was between bites, so he looked at her and sought a calm response. “We are not the first bride and groom to be in a similar position. However, we shoul
d delay this conversation until we are in more private surroundings.”

  Her soft sigh and the sadness in her green eyes was answer enough. He did not mean to be cruel; he merely preferred to spare both of them any further embarrassment than they’d already suffered.

  “You look lovely today.” He offered the compliment both because it was true, and he wished to ease her very obvious distress.

  She blushed a bit. “Thank you. But you don’t—”

  “I wouldn’t say it if it were not the truth,” he grumbled, and then refocused on his plate.

  Yes, it seemed they still had much to discuss later. The question was, now that he knew she did not love him, could he still win her heart?

  Did he still wish to?

  Chapter 25

  Julia walked through the home that was now partly hers. All the guests had long since departed, and her things had been put away. In the three days since she’d agreed to marry Wolf, they obviously had not had time to discuss a honeymoon. The truth was, she could happily skip that tradition. Her last one had left much to be desired.

  Guilt and regret ate at her as she wandered aimlessly. How could I have been so thoughtlessly cruel to my friend? She hadn’t meant to shout that she didn’t love him. The worst part was that it wasn’t even true. Fear had simply taken a stranglehold on her in that moment, and had caused her to panic and lash out instinctively. A tear slipped down her cheek as she remembered the look on Wolf’s face when she’d looked over the railing. The hurt and devastation she’d glimpsed before he’d turned and walked into the salon would forever be stamped on her memory.

  She wandered into the salon where the ceremony had been held and tried to remember how the room had been arranged. Wolf’s efficient staff already had everything set to rights, leaving her nothing to do. At loose ends, she sighed.

  A masculine throat cleared behind her. “Could I have a word with you in the library?”

  She turned as soon as he made the sound behind her, surreptitiously wiping the stray tear from her face, and followed him into his domain. Considering the awful thing he’d heard her say earlier, she couldn’t blame him for wanting to have this conversation from a place of power.

  He sat behind his desk, and she took one of the chairs sitting across from him.

  “I imagine you’d like to address what you heard just before the wedding.”

  “Not at all.” He drew a breath. “Look, Jules. I am well aware you did not want to get married ever again. This was an unavoidable situation. I certainly have no illusions about the state of our relationship.”

  She hated that he’d been forced to articulate such truths. If she were honest, it gutted her.

  He continued. “But we’ve been friends for a long time, and more recently, lovers. That is more than many ton marriages have been built on.”

  She couldn’t dispute his statement. “It is.”

  His hands fisted on the desk and then flattened out. “So I am hoping that we can move past this morning’s less than ideal start and continue down the path we’ve been on for the last few weeks.”

  Was he nervous? She looked down at her hands clutched tightly in her lap in order to hide her amusement. That she even felt such a thing after their morning was like a ray of sunshine on a bleak day. After she quickly gathered herself, she looked back up at him again. “I would like that. The notion of marrying again, of being so vulnerable to anyone, had me on edge this morning. Keeping things more or less as they’ve been would be wonderful.”

  He apparently had refrained from breathing, because upon her agreement, he released a deep breath. “Excellent. However, as my wife, I would like to cover your day-to-day expenses. New gowns, pin money, whatever you need.”

  She bit her lip, concern flaring within. “I can’t allow you to do that. I have plenty of my own money to address those needs.”

  He frowned. “Use your fortune for other things, then. Spoil your sister and your family, give it to charity, or maybe invest it. But as your husband, it is my job to take care of you and all your needs.”

  She shook her head. She refused to be so dependent on him. “I can’t allow myself to become…”

  Her words trailed off as she saw the spark of frustration in his eyes. For some reason, this was important to him.

  With deep reservations, she tried for a compromise. “Might I suggest we share the cost of any new gowns?”

  “Have all bills sent to me. I shall tally up your portion and let you know the total on a quarterly basis. Will that work?” He looked about as pleased with the arrangement as she was.

  “Very well, though do not think you can fool me with some token amount. I am quite aware of my spending habits.” She resisted the urge to fist her hands in her silk skirts. She was not a lavish spender, but there were certain luxuries she had come to enjoy. Fine fabrics, such as the softest lawn, silks, velvets, and of course, the gowns that resulted. While she did not frequent Society, she relished the feel of silk against her skin, and a finely made dress was greatly appreciated.

  “Noted.” He seemed to gather himself for a moment. “I believe we should also discuss the agreement we made previously with regard to sex.”

  “Do go on.”

  Her earlier distress and upset forgotten, she let one brow rise as she smirked. She didn’t think he could ask for her to be more adventurous than she’d already been.

  “Yes, well. I should mostly like to leave things as they are, with a few exceptions. You are my wife, so I’d prefer it if you were available most nights. It is not as though either of us needs to make arrangements to attend The Market any longer.”

  “Agreed.”

  While she was certain he was merely trying to put her at ease about their marriage, she did find his attention to detail amusing.

  “And while I believe it goes without saying, just to be clear, fidelity is expected on both our parts. I shall no more attend sexually-oriented gatherings at The Market than I would expect you to take other lovers.” Something hard glinted in his gaze, a possessive gleam that made her heart flutter and her core pulse. “Any sexual needs you have will be met by myself alone, and vice versa.”

  Clearly, he was attempting to balance his desire to lay claim to her with her obvious need for freedom. She’d initially agreed to have only one lover, so the reminder was unnecessary, but not particularly worth arguing about. “I believe nothing has changed on that topic. You are, and will remain, my only lover for the duration of this marriage.”

  He stared at her with a peevish look that suggested something about what she’d said was unwelcome. But since she had merely acknowledged the fact she would remain faithful, that left her comment about the duration of the marriage. She cringed. It was indeed a qualifying statement, but based on his reaction, she had to assume he did not see their arrangement ending once Wallthorpe was dealt with.

  While they had not discussed how or when their marriage would end—clearly an oversight on her part—it seemed logical that it would in fact come to a natural conclusion. Wouldn’t it? Yet something inside her squeezed uncomfortably at the notion. The practical side of her, however, the side that sought to protect her from greater heartache, still argued that falling in love with the same man a second time was foolish—and a path bound for unhappiness.

  “Good.”

  Wolf’s single-word answer sounded as though it had been forced past his lips. He took a moment more, fiddling with some papers on his desk, and then looked back at her. “Is there anything you wish to add?”

  She considered for a moment, but shook her head. “No, I think we’ve covered everything. I think I shall retire and prepare for bed.”

  “I shall be up shortly.”

  She stood and strode to the door. All the while, the weight of his gaze rested on her. It felt as though he caressed her with his very eyes. It was both unsettling and exciting. With a flutter in her belly at the night to come, she closed the study door behind her. Hesitating a moment, she heard a soft curs
e and the tinkle of the crystal decanter as he poured himself a drink.

  He seemed as unsettled as she was, but she suspected it was for altogether different reasons. Determined not to worry about things like dissolving their marriage until the time came, she headed upstairs to prepare for her wedding night.

  It was maybe an hour later, while she reclined on the chaise lounge by the fire, trying to appear calm, that she heard Wolf enter his chamber next door. She glanced down at the pale pink negligee that cupped her breasts before falling to her feet in a cascade of silk. With the fire blazing she was plenty warm, yet a chill swept over her as she waited.

  Would sex between them change somehow? He’d indicated that it wouldn’t earlier, but men could be fickle creatures. Often, what a man might deem acceptable with a lover might be considered too vulgar for a wife.

  After what seemed an eternity, the door between their chambers swung open. Wolf stood still, illuminated by the firelight. His shirt hung loose over his trousers, his necktie and vest discarded, along with his shoes and socks. He was a sexy, yet domestic picture.

  “Good evening, wife.”

  She bit her lip, taken with the moment. Finally, she managed to reply. “Good evening, husband. Would you care to join me by the fire?”

  He stalked across the room slowly. A predator on the prowl, if ever she saw one.

  “Stand up. Let me see what it is you are wearing.”

  With no small amount of trepidation—good God, it wasn’t as though she were a virgin—she rose up and faced the man who now owned her body and soul. Well, her body, she reminded herself. But her heart whispered that he had her soul as well. Ignoring the never-ending internal struggle, she instead focused on the pleasure she knew this man could deliver.