The Madness of Viscount Atherbourne (Rescued from Ruin, Book One) by Elisa Braden Read Free Book Online Page B

She didn’t know why, but it
was true. Something in his face—a flash of outrage, as if the very
thought was abhorrent—gave her the answer his words could not. It
appeared he did not mean to harm her, at least not physically.
    “So, let me understand this correctly,” she
said, stepping back and retreating toward the fireplace. He was
entirely too close. It was not conducive to clear thinking. “You
plotted my ruination to gain vengeance against Harrison—”
    “He shot my brother—”
    “Yes, well, I believe we all understand your
motives,” she retorted sharply.
    “Do you?” His voice was strange. Sad. “It was
not my intention that you should suffer needlessly.”
    “Perhaps you should have considered that
before—”
    “But I was hardly alone on that terrace, my
lady.”
    The softly spoken words jarred her terribly,
not because they were false. Because they were true. This scandal
was as much her fault as his. More, perhaps. She was the one who
had been betrothed to another man. She was the one who had allowed
foolish fantasies and romantic nonsense to weaken her. He had come
to the door with devious intent, yes. But she was the one who had
swung it wide.
    “You believe our marriage will quiet the
scandal,” she said.
    For the longest time, he did not reply. His
eyes explored her face, his expression almost concerned. “I believe
without it, your reputation will never fully recover. I do not wish
that for you.”
    Neither did she. In truth, what he offered
was a gift. She would have preferred it to come without
accompanying suspicions, but it was hardly an offer she could
discard easily—or perhaps at all. “I could marry another. If I
waited a year …”
    He was shaking his head, giving her a dark
look. He held up three fingers, wiggling each one in turn as he
spoke. “Engagement. Scandalous liaison. Wedding.” His arm dropped
and his head tilted slightly. “Tell me, Lady Victoria. What would
they say about your husband if he were not one of the first
two?”
    She hated him. Hated his mocking little
gesture, hated the arrogant tilt, the assurance in his voice. Most
of all, she hated that he was right. “Fine. Let’s say I agree to
marry you.”
    His half-smile returned. “Let’s.”
    “Where would the wedding take place?”
    Glancing around the drawing room, he said,
“Why not here?”
    “When?”
    “As soon as it can be arranged. I shall need
only a few days to acquire a special license.”
    A few days? Blood rushed from her
head, sped on by a heart that doubled its pace. “Th-that soon?”
    He was still for a moment, then walked toward
her slowly. Cautiously. One finger rose to stroke her cheek. She
jerked back, startled. It caught briefly on a curl at the top of
her jawline, then disappeared. “You would not regret becoming my
wife, Victoria,” he whispered. It sounded like a vow.
    She felt hunted, herded into a corner from
which there was no escape. And the hunter was also the bait.
Tempting. Seductive. More than that, however, she felt the walls of
duty pushing her toward him. She had made a terrible mistake. One
whose price must be paid. She glanced up at the portrait of her
mother, serene and golden and perfect. A woman of grace, if not
great beauty. A woman who had always done the proper thing. “You
would be my husband.” It was a whisper to herself, but he
heard.
    “In every way,” came his hoarse
confirmation.
    Nodding, she clasped her hands at her waist,
then dropped her gaze to her twisting fingers. “Would we have
children, Lucien?”
    “Yes.” His tone was softer, gentle.
    Lifting her head once again, she stared for
what seemed like years into his beautiful, storm-cloud eyes. In the
few moments they stood gazing at one another, she imagined an
entire lifetime with this man. Their wedding. The nights when he
would make love to her in their bed. Children with his raven-black
hair and perhaps her blue eyes. Sons who would grow tall and strong
and handsome like their