Sabrina Jeffries - Married to the Viscount (Swanlea Spinsters, Book 5)

Swanlea Spinster 5- Married to the Viscount

Jaquette du Livre

Rating:

Tags: England - Social life and customs - 19th century, Regency fiction, Historical fiction, Americans - England, Arranged marriage, Nobility - England, Romance - Historical, Fiction, Romance, Romance: Historical, Historical, Young women - England, Romance & Sagas, Love stories, Fiction - Romance

SUMMARY:One kiss... Abigail Mercer was breathless with anticipation at being reunited with Spencer Law, whom she met once and later married by proxy. But now the dashing Viscount Ravenswood denies all knowledge of their union! Far too many witnesses have made it impossible for the secretive Spencer to reject his "bride" without causing a scandal. So he has proposed a marriage in-name-only until they can locate his mysteriously absent younger brother -- who is responsible for everything! -- and untangle this messy affair. Abigail is incensed, irate...and irresistibly attracted to this handsome, infuriating man who hides his smoldering passion behind a proper exterior. So the lady will agree to his terms on one condition: Spencer must seal their bargain with a kiss. But he finds that one deep, lingering, unforgettable kiss isn't nearly enough. And keeping his hands off his pretty wife is going to be much harder than he thought...

Never argue with an intoxicated lord.

Suggestions for the Stoic Servant

Night had already fallen by the time the crowd of women around Abby and Lady Brumley thinned. Two or three were quizzing Clara, but Abby was finally getting a chance to relax. "Phew!" she murmured under her breath to Lady Brumley. "I can't believe how enthusiastic these ladies are about a perfume."

"Didn't I tell you they would love it?"

"They love it because you told them it was fashionable to do so," Abby said dryly.

"Nonsense. The scent stands on its own. Though I like to think I did what I could."

"I can't tell you how grateful I am for all your help," Abby said. "If Heaven's Scent succeeds, it will mean more to me than you can imagine." She would no longer have to worry about what might happen if Nat was never found.

Lady Brumley waved her hand dismissively. "You need not worry, my dear. I shall be much amazed if it isn't an instant success. The ladies are probably already speculating that your fabulous scent was what snagged you a rich husband like Ravenswood." She glanced beyond the ladies talking to Clara. "Speaking of your husband, I believe that's him headed this way."

Abby swung her gaze around to find a grimly determined Spencer stalking toward them. Captain Blakely followed close behind, shoulders slumped.

"Ravenswood looks angry," Lady Brumley added. "You did tell him about this, didn't you?"

"Of course." Abby set her lips. "Pay him no mind. He's been such a grump lately I hardly know what to do with him."

"Men are simple creatures, my dear. Keep them well fed and well pleasured, and they are content. Since I doubt you have to worry about the former, you must concentrate on the latter. Take him to bed. That always brings a man right out of the doldrums."

Shocked by her ladyship's forthrightness, Abby could think of no answer but the truth, and she could hardly tell the woman that.

Besides, by then Spencer had reached them. "It's late, Abby. Time to go."

"Late?" Lady Brumley smirked at him. "Why, my dear Lord Ravenswood, it's only seven o'clock. Why the rush to get home?"

He fixed the marchioness with a glittering gaze. "I don't believe I was speaking to you, Lady Brumley."

His voice carried to the other women, who fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"Don't talk to her like that," Abby said in an undertone. "Her ladyship has been most kind to me."

"If you can call it that." Spencer stepped close to grab Abby's arm. Though he seemed steady enough, he reeked of brandy. Which might explain why he went on speaking loudly enough to be heard by those standing nearby. "I call it meddling in other people's affairs."

Lady Brumley's smirk vanished, replaced by a steely anger that brought high color to her heavily powdered cheeks. "Perhaps, Lady Ravenswood, you should go home with your husband after all. He seems to forget the courtesy he owes a hostess."

"I owe you nothing," Spencer grumbled, and now Abby could hear the faint slur to his words. "My wife owes you nothing."

"Ravenswood, old fellow, you're going about this all wrong," Captain Blakely muttered.

"He's clearly foxed," Abby retorted. "I suppose I have you to thank for that, Captain Blakely."

"Probably." Clara took her husband's arm. "Come now, my dear, let's go home. You've done quite enough for one night."

As Clara drew the protesting captain away, Spencer said, "I am not foxed. I meant every word, Abby. She's taken advantage of you quite enough. Come on, we're going, too."

"Taken advantage" Abby wrenched her arm free. "That's an unfair assertion, and I'm not going anywhere with you until you apologize."

He glowered at her. "I refuse to apologize to that rumor-mongering"

"Go on, my dear," Lady Brumley put in, her smirk returning. "There's no point to arguing with a man in his cups."

Spencer whirled on her. "I am not in my cups, I'll have you know. And furthermore, madam"

"You're rightwe should go," Abby muttered. All too aware of the curious ladies who remained nearby listening to every scandalous word, she dropped her voice. "I can't imagine what's possessed you. But we're leaving before you can make us a laughingstock."

"You're bloody right we're leaving." Wrapping his arm about her waist, Spencer towed her toward the house and thankfully lowered his voice. "And you're never to come here again, do you hear? That gossiping witch is not to be trusted."

Abby rolled her eyes. What on earth had brought all this on? What had happened to the calculating spymaster, the cautious statesman? Glancing back to the marchioness, who waved her off as gaily as if mad husbands routinely dragged their wives from her breakfasts, Abby called out, "I'll pay you a visit tomorrow!"

"You are not paying that woman any more visits," Spencer ordered as he hurried her through the house. He nearly stumbled in a corridor, the only indication that he wasn't quite in command of his faculties. But he caught himself quickly enough to continue their ridiculous march. "Not tomorrow, not ever."

"You're insane." As they halted in the foyer, Abby wrenched her hand from his grasp. "I may be your pretend wife, but that gives you no right to choose my friends."

"Watch your tongue, for God's sake," Spencer hissed, jerking his head toward the footmen standing nearby.

"Why? You certainly aren't bothering to do so. At least I'm speaking sense."

With a sullen scowl, Spencer ordered a footman to call for his carriage, then turned back to Abby. "I'm merely looking out for my wife."

"By embarrassing her before the world? Tell me something, Spencer. If Lady Brumley is such an untrustworthy gossip, why on earth would you give her something to gossip about by behaving like a complete madman in front of her?"

He opened his mouth to retort, then shut it. Good. At least the idiot had enough sense left in his brandy-soaked head to realize she was right.

A footman helped her on with her pelisse, while another edged close enough to offer Spencer his coat and hat. Spencer grabbed both and clapped his hat on his head, but he dropped his coat. When Abby reached for it, he glared at her as he bent to snatch it up himself. Surprisingly, he didn't overset himself, but he fared less well with getting it on.