Honor's Players - By Holly Newman Page 0,53

they seemed such consuming feelings, and she was not at all certain she should allow such powerful emotions to engulf her. It could not be considered ladylike and would likely give St. Ryne a disgust of her.

She chewed her bottom lip as she considered her situation. Her questions might be moot if the Viscount failed to return or if Mr. Tunning’s vicious, oily tongue held sway. She had never liked the estate agent and her experiences in the past week only served to harden her dislike. It was a pity, however, that she had not been able to still her tongue during their last interview.

As she sat behind the desk, she vividly remembered the confrontation for she had been so situated when it occurred. It was caused by her hiring Mary Geddy. She’d known engaging Mary would be tantamount to adding fuel to a burning fire; however, she felt confident of her ability to face Tunning down. She knew, with wry irony, she had signally failed to take the true measure of the man for he was not above fighting dirty. When he heard from Atheridge the identity of her new cook, he came storming into her house without waiting to be announced, his face dangerously red.

“What are you about, employing that Geddy witch? You were to consult me on any hiring!”

“I never remember agreeing to that.”

He pounded his fist on the desk. “I told you those Humphries were a bad lot. A bad lot.”

“I beg to differ with you,” Elizabeth returned coolly, her eyebrow rising in quelling hauteur. “I found the Humphries to be pleasant company, but that is entirely beside the point. I did not hire them, I hired Mary Geddy. Furthermore, Mr. Tunning, I would not have done so if you had presented me with qualified people rather than the pathetic souls to whom you could pay less and pocket the difference. I am paying top dollar, Mr. Tunning, and you’re going to see that everyone I hire receives their proper wages.” Her accusation was a shot in the dark, but she was amply rewarded by the rapid flush on Tunning’s face.

“Are you accusing me of stealing estate funds?” he gritted.

She crowed silently while she considered him. “Outright stealing? No, I grant you more intelligence than that, Mr. Tunning,” she admitted serenely. “I think it more likely you take your pound of flesh from everyone you deal with.”

“That is a lie!”

“Is it?” A triumphant smile played upon her lips. Tunning's eyes narrowed, an ugly sneer twisting his features. He leaned over the desk and Elizabeth found herself shrinking into her chair. “Ah, I see the way of it now, you’re angry with that fine husband of yours for leaving the purse strings in my hands.”

“Ridiculous!” she snapped, yet an uncomfortable feeling nagged at her.

Tunning pressed his advantage. “I’ll not be the victim of a vengeful, frustrated virgin.”

“How dare you!”

He straightened, his pudgy hand fingering his watch chain. “Asides which, you’ve got no proof,” he continued malevolently.

Elizabeth drew a deep breath while her fiery eyes burned through Tunning. “No, I don’t. You saw to that when you locked the estate room and terrorized the local people,” she seethed. “But I’m giving you warning, do not play ducks and drakes with other people’s money again, or I’ll see you on the first ship bound for the penal colony in Australia!”

“Don’t you go threatening me,” he snarled, rocking back on his heels. “I know all about you now that I’ve done some investigating. They call you the Shrew of London, and it’s rumored St. Ryne won a tidy bundle in the clubs by wedding you.”

“You insolent cur!”

“Same as you. I’ll bide my time for now, but when the Viscount returns, I’ll see that Geddy witch out on her ear, mark my words.”

“You mark mine, Tom Tunning. Stay out of my way or you may see just how much of a shrew I can be. You’ll rue the day you crossed swords with me.” Her fingers closed around the inkstand, her fingers itching to throw it in his face.

“Oh, I think not, my fine lady, I think not,” he snickered, turning on his heel and slamming the library door shut behind him.

Elizabeth still shuddered when she considered that interview. She should have maintained an icy calmness, but her famous temper had once again betrayed her. The truth was, she did not know who St. Ryne would believe. His last words to Tunning before he left indicated a faith in her, but