Honor's Players - By Holly Newman Page 0,40

gracefully lifted the glass to her lips, savoring the taste of the sweet wine.

“As I was saying, St. Ryne,” she said, returning to her chair, “I am perfectly capable of overseeing the affairs of the manor.”

“Nonsense, my dear. We both know how you lack a proper understanding as to the value of money,” St. Ryne returned smoothly. "I have on two occasions witnessed this unfortunate deficit in your education. I must insist Mr. Tunning handle the accounts.”

Tunning looked from the Viscount to his wife and back, secretly crowing. “Now, my lady, don’t fret yourself. It is no burden at all. Accounts are my business, so to speak.”

Yes, I’ll wager they are, Elizabeth thought to herself. She did not like that self-satisfied expression on his face. Before St. Ryne returned she vowed she’d closely examine his account books. If one farm could be as well maintained as they inferred, it struck her as odd that all were not. Then there was the matter of Mrs. Atheridge’s petticoats. There was something about this man she could not like. His eyes held a sneaky shrewdness. She watched him fidget with his ornate watch chain. That, like the housekeeper’s petticoats, was not in keeping with his position.

Elizabeth watched him exchange a masculine, patronizing look with her husband at her expense. It was with sheer determination that she fought an impulse to fly into anger and properly rake him down.

“I’ll come by each afternoon to advise her ladyship. I’ll see she’s not gulled. I’ll also arrange for servants.”

“I prefer to choose my own.” Her voice was rigid, coming out as it did through clenched teeth.

“Well, no offense my lady, but being new in these parts, you’d do well to be advised by me.” He leaned back in his chair and spoke like a grand gentleman dispensing favors. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll arrange that all interviews be scheduled when we have our meeting in the afternoon so you can sit in and give your opinion, too.”

‘What?” She could not fathom this man’s boundless audacity.

“He has a point, my dear,” St. Ryne interrupted smoothly, hoping to squelch the storm he saw brewing in her gold eyes. Damn the man. Though it was his intention to teach his willful wife a lesson by leaving the accounts in Tunning’s hands, he had not meant for this fellow to infer that she was a helpless ninny hammer. He also did not care for his patronizing manner. Then a thought occurred to him, and perhaps it would be another good lesson for Elizabeth.

“Justin!”

Tunning observed the soundless exchange between the Viscount and his wife. There seemed to be little love lost between the two. He’d tell the Atheridges not to fear losing their sweet deal just yet, particularly if he was able to get rid of the meddlesome Humphries who noticed too much and asked too many questions. He was a trifle annoyed that the Viscount would not allow himself to be immediately led by him; however, he considered himself a patient man and it did appear the Viscount was disposed to defer to him, a circumstance that suited Tom Tunning perfectly.

He looked at the Viscountess. There was a morsel that suited him perfectly, too. Highborn ladies were often known to participate in a dalliance with those of other classes, if for no other reason than to cuckold their husbands. If the Viscount was to make a habit of long absences away from his bride, well, Tom Tunning would just have to see what he could do to soothe the poor Viscountess’s frustrations. Several images came to his mind of a nude and writhing young woman lying beneath him. Atheridge said they slept apart on their wedding night, too.

Elizabeth did not miss the smug and hungry look on Tunning’s face and she felt a warm blush suffuse her cheeks. How dare St. Ryne put her in this position!

Elizabeth and Tunning were so caught in their own thoughts that they were startled when they realized St. Ryne was again speaking to them.

“—looks fool you. Though the Viscountess may not have a head for money, she is an intelligent woman. I trust her to choose servants wisely and furthermore, should a problem arise with which you would consult me, please speak to her before sending any messages to London. I trust her to handle even the knottiest problem.”

Elizabeth turned to St. Ryne in surprise.

Tunning grinned fatuously. “Don’t you worry, my lord, I’m sure we’ll get along famously.”

Elizabeth doubted that but kept her lips