Page 56 of The Viscount Who Vexed Me

Mr. Borerro suddenly came into the room, interrupting the closeness she felt between them. “Lady Aleksander calling.”

The viscount stood up from the desk. “Show her in. I’ll join her in a few moments.” He smiled sadly at Hattie and strode across the room.

And then he was gone.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

MR. BORERROGREETEDLila at the door and took her umbrella and cloak. He asked her to wait and disappeared down the hall. Lila paused to pat her hair and make sure everything was in place. When Mr. Borerro returned, she happened to catch sight of a pin on Mr. Borerro’s lapel in the mirror. She turned around. “Are you wearing a Tudor rose, sir?” she asked, peering at the pin on his lapel.

“Sí.”

“You’re a student of English history! Where on earth did you find it?”

“It was a gift. Please follow me.” He turned and began to walk.

Santiavans, Lila thought. They were so terribly reticent about every little thing. How did they survive the winters, gathered around the hearth, no one uttering a word? No wonder Elizabeth was so frequently in Madrid or Paris.

He escorted her to the study, where she was fully prepared to find another reticent Santiavan but, instead, found Miss Woodchurch. Alone. The young woman stood up from her desk when Lila entered and curtsied.

Lila could not have been more delighted. For the first time in many years, she’d been dreading a meeting with a client—she was certain she wouldn’t get a thing out of Lord Abbott, and the only thing she knew about the Forsythe dinner was that she’d arranged to have three perfectly suitable women introduced to him, and he’d left with no clear, discernible interest in any of them.

His demeanor all evening had been reserved. The only time he seemed to have enjoyed himself was when he stood in the back of the music room next to his scribe.

“Miss Woodchurch!” she trilled.

The young woman was dressed in a drab gray gown, worn at the hem and cuffs of the sleeves. Her hair was done up in a pleasing fashion, but a tendril had escaped and drifted down one side of her face. She had pretty blue eyes, which Lila had admired before, and a healthy glow to her skin. Miss Woodchurch was attractive, really, if one looked closely enough. What was it Beck had said about her? Lila tried to pull the nugget of memory to the forefront.

“I must say you’re looking well rested from the weekend! I hardly left my bed Sunday, I was so exhausted,” Lila said.

Miss Woodchurch eyed her warily.

Lila took a seat on the settee and set her bag aside. “Just between us chicks, have you seen the viscount today?”

“Briefly.”

Lila looked around the room. No tea or pastries, she was sorry to see. She didn’t know what magic was working in the kitchens here, but they had the best pastries in town. She leaned back and fixed her gaze on Miss Woodchurch, who was still standing. “What did you think of the Forsythe dinner? Was it to your liking?”

“Yes,” she said. “It was lovely. Thank you for arranging the invitation.”

“Itwaslovely, wasn’t it? Although I am not as fond of lamb as others. Do you like lamb? And the sponge cake I thought a bit dry. Tell me, darling, what did you think of the ladies his lordship met?”

“Pardon?”

“You must have some opinions, and don’t you dare tell me you don’t, aseveryonehas an opinion on most things.”

Miss Woodchurch smiled nervously. “I thought the sponge cake was very good.”

“But what about the ladies?”

She looked toward the door, as if she hoped that the viscount would enter and save her. “Really, I... No one cares what I think.”

“Au contraire, my dear. I do, or I wouldn’t have asked. You were there. You saw them. By your own admission, you know them.”

“Yes, but I don’t—”

“Whatever you say will be kept in the strictest confidence.” Lila suddenly stood and moved to stand before Miss Woodchurch. She glanced over her shoulder at the door, and said softly, “You may have noticed that his lordship is not exactly keen on sharing his views. That is so typical of men—they seem to think it too revealing to state their likes and dislikes. You understand me, don’t you?”

“I don’t think so,” Miss Woodchurch said, and took a step back.