Kisses and Scandal (A Survivors Series Anthology ) - Shana Galen Page 0,9
room, seated on a couch with her rose-colored skirts about her. Her hands were tightly clasped in her lap and her expression was determined. The viscount must be opposite her. James couldn’t see him. But he could see Phil, and at the viscount’s words the color rose in her cheeks. Finally, she said, “Are you?”
“I am. You seemed to know better than I that we are not a good match.”
“We’re not?” she said, her voice rising slightly as though she was almost, but not quite, asking.
“No. We wouldn’t suit at all, you and I. Your family is old and distinguished, but it’s become obvious of late that your values are, shall we say, rather more liberal than those of my own family. I would want to raise any offspring of our union to uphold the morals and principles I was raised to believe in.”
“And you think...what? My morals are lacking?”
James stepped back against the wall and deeper into the shadows. Lady Philomena had risen, and he could see her standing with her hands on her hips in the center of the parlor.
“It’s not you, in particular, my lady,” the viscount said, his voice soothing. “But your brother’s recent marriage, coupled by the suspicious circumstances surrounding the deaths of the previous dukes, is rather off-putting.”
“And why is it off-putting tonight and not last night?”
The viscount crossed to Lady Philomena. “Last night, after our conversation, I spoke with my mother. She helped to clarify the situation.”
“I see. And what situation is that? That my brother married for love rather than Society’s approval? That we’ve had great tragedy in our family? But why should I expect you to understand any of that?”
The viscount took a step back. “I can see I have upset you.”
“You’ve done more than that, my lord. You’ve insulted me.”
He bowed. “The slight was unintentional. Please believe me when I say I have nothing but the highest regard for you. Excuse me.”
James held his breath as the viscount walked past him without seeing him.
In the parlor, he heard the sound of glass shattering.
Three
Phil stared at the remains of what had been a Sevres porcelain cow. She’d never liked it, but she supposed she shouldn’t have smashed it. It had just happened to be the closest item within reach. “The highest regard for me,” she muttered as she knelt to gather the cow’s broken pieces. “But not high enough to marry me.”
“Careful ye don’t cut yerself.”
Phil looked up and James was in the door, his hands tucked in his coat pockets and his expression filled with concern.
“I think I can manage to pick up a few pieces of porcelain. I’m not wholly incompetent.”
He knelt across from her and picked up the rest of the pieces, then took them from her and set them on the table. “I’ll fetch a broom and dustpan when ye go up to the drawing room.”
She could always count on James to take care of her. Phil sighed and sat back on her bottom. “I suppose you heard that conversation.”
“I was on my way upstairs and saw ye go in. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but—oh, what’s the point? I did mean to eavesdrop.”
“Well, now my humiliation is complete.”
“Sure and I don’t know why ye’d be humiliated.”
“Oh, perhaps because I was desperate enough to try and solicit another proposal and then so pathetic that he refused me.”
“The way I see it, me lady, ye were wise to refuse him the first time. Else ye’d be tied to a man who didn’t respect ye or yer family.”
She shrugged. “He won’t be alone in that sentiment. My brother has made things uncomfortable.”
“Sure and a little bit of discomfort helps us grow, so it does.”
She closed her eyes.
“Not the helpful words of wisdom ye wanted?”
She shook her head. James took her hands. She hadn’t yet pulled her gloves back on after dinner, and his hands were bare. The heat of their flesh meeting jolted her so that when she’d gained her feet, she needed to take a breath.
“I just wanted to do as I ought. I have been told all my life that I must make a good marriage. Now I shall have to suffer through another Season of my mother’s matchmaking efforts.”
“It must be quite the chore, having men call on ye at all hours, falling at yer feet to read ye poetry or declare their undying love.”
She tried to keep from smiling, but she felt her lips curve upward. “It is. It’s awful.” She looked up at him