When the Earl Met His Match (Wedded by Scandal #4) - Stacy Reid Page 0,100

able to tell her he loved her.

The Sparrow he ignored completely. The insult was subtle but unmistakable.

Was Hugh recalling the fierce way he had tumbled her last night and the wicked way he had made her sob and scream his name? A wave of heat engulfed her face, and she quickly glanced away from his intense stare.

His fingers lifted, and he signed.

“My husband is pleased to make your acquaintance, Richard. Given the hasty and unexpected circumstances of our marriage, he understands why you panicked in your actions to bring me home. He thanks you for your hospitality in having me these last few days and looks forward to meeting with you regularly when we return from Scotland. Our family is currently in mourning, so we will miss the upcoming season. He extends an invitation for you to visit us in Scotland at your earliest convenience,” she translated.

Sparrow’s eyes widened as the import of their actions hit him. His hand tightened around his glass.

“I see,” Richard murmured, staring at her husband. “I’ve been made to understand you’ve made ruinous steps toward Lord Malfoy. Many would call it an overreaction to the matter.”

Hugh’s fingers lifted. Each time his gaze touched hers, her heart trembled in response. Richard and Sparrow looked to her for interaction.

Phoebe bit back her smile as she translated. “I am not many.”

“Do you have nothing more to say?” Sparrow snapped.

Finally, he shifted his gaze to the viscount. “This is a lesson I trust you will remember well. I’ve restrained myself, as my wife assured me you did not hurt her. But you did frighten her and caused her to worry. I am serious about anything that affects her.”

Phoebe carefully repeated exactly what her husband signed. Richard’s lips twitched, and the viscount’s expression grew more foreboding.

“I should call you out for this,” Sparrow said icily. “Many children in the slums depend on my wealth to survive. Dozens, in fact, and you casually play God with their life and welfare.”

Tension snapped through Phoebe as her husband signed. She cleared her throat and carefully translated, “If you wish to call me out and lose your life, I will oblige.”

A tense, perilous silence blanketed the library, and Richard’s face was carefully composed as he stared at her husband. Phoebe could tell he was wondering if he should allow her to go back with him. Anxiety cramped her stomach. She did not want Hugh and Richard to fight. She had always been loyal to her brother, but that was before she got married. Unquestionably, she would stand with Hugh, always. The awareness was painfully shattering. Oh God, she loved him, desperately so.

His fingers moved again, and Phoebe said, “I trust you will tread carefully in the future, knowing you have such vulnerable dependents.”

Then he faced her. “I will wait in the hallway while you say your good-byes. Your few items of apparel have been packed, and our carriage is waiting. I propose for Franny’s sake we delay no longer.”

Then he turned and left.

“My…he has always been a man of few words,” she said by way of explanation, flushing slightly.

“That’s it?” the viscount demanded. “I have words to say to him,” he said and marched out of the library.

With a sigh, Phoebe faced her brother. “Our carriage is waiting on me. Franny is waiting on us, and we must leave right away.”

Richard scrubbed a hand over his face. “I will convey your regrets to Evie and to our mother. The duchess returned to her townhouse. I will send her a note that you are returning home. She was hoping to have us over for dinner tonight.”

“Thank you. I am very astonished you and Mother have come to some sort of amicable resolution. And Father, too?”

“Your disappearance brought us together. The relationship is still…very tentative, but I have seen their efforts with Emily. Her illegitimacy is not a sore point for them anymore. Unless they are pretending. Either way, my daughter is happy to know her grandparents.”

“I have missed little Emily,” she whispered, thinking of the beautiful, golden-eyed child her brother loved with his whole heart.

Richard smiled. “I have not asked about my niece.”

“Francesca Winthrop. She is…wonderful, Richard.”

“And Albury has willingly claimed her as his?”

“Yes,” she said softly.

Richard stared at her. “George—”

“No. He is in the past, and I do not even think of him. None of his words impacted me last night. We were friends, but I did not love him.”

Richard frowned; then he stiffened. “I will clean up the mess I made, I promise.