My Fair Viscount: (The Scandal Sheet Book 4) Read online

  The door behind him opened, and David shook those unpleasant thoughts away as he turned to watch his cousin enter the room. As Richard stepped aside, a lady followed him into the chamber. Despite knowing his cousin’s ridiculous plan, David had not been prepared for what he would see. He’d pictured some old spinster woman, stern and wrinkled and utterly unappealing in her judgment and coldness.

  The woman who moved toward him now was none of those things. Yes, her blonde hair was pulled back in a somewhat severe style, and yes, she did draw a pair or spectacles from the pocket of her plain gown and perch them on her nose, but she was no ancient judge of character.

  She was beautiful, with bright green eyes that flitted over him from top of bottom, full pink lips that spoke of long kisses and a curvy figure that begged a man to trace the lines of it with his fingers.

  She was, in short, tempting. And David had never been one to resist temptation.

  He cleared his throat and inclined his head toward her. “You’re Miss Higgins.”

  She stopped in her tracks and her lips thinned. “I am, indeed, my lord. However, you must be aware that it is proper to allow your cousin to introduce us rather than simply jump into conversation.”

  David lifted both brows. Her voice was very soft, almost musical, but when it contained a set down he found he didn’t like it. He felt the judgment of it and he shifted beneath it.

  Richard stepped up. “I was remiss, pardon me. My lord, may I present Miss Higgins. Miss Higgins, the Viscount Shaw.”

  She did the slightest of curtsies and extended a hand. “My lord.”

  He shook his head, all his defensiveness rushing to surface. “What a load of shit.”

  If he’d thought to shock her with crude language, it didn’t seem to work. If anything, she looked bored as she pivoted away from him and toward his cousin. “You said he could be taught. It appears he does not wish to be.”

  Richard’s eyes went wide and he moved closer to her. A little too close if David were judging. “But he does, Miss Higgins! I’m certain my cousin does not wish to fail.”

  The last was said with special emphasis and Richard glared at him pointedly.

  David threw up his hands. “I’m standing right here.”

  Miss Higgins turned back to him and put her hands on her hips. Which, of course, drew his attention to them. Great God, but a teacher of comportment ought not to have the body of a goddess. It was patently unfair.

  “You may be standing right there, my lord, but you also seem to be functioning at the level of a child. When my charges behave thus, I tend to speak to their parents instead of them.”

  David’s nostrils flared as heat suffused his cheeks. “I’m not a child, Miss Higgins. I can prove that if you’d like.”

  If she hadn’t reacted to the curse earlier, it was clear she understood the underlying innuendo of his suggestion now and she did blush. She backed up a step as her gaze fluttered to his face, down his body and then swiftly back to his cousin.

  “I think it is a lost cause, Mr. Shaw. I wish you all the luck but—”

  She moved as if to go and Richard bounded forward again. “Fifteen hundred pounds up front, Miss Higgins. Five hundred in two weeks and another five if he comes out without incident.”

  David stared at his cousin. That was a small fortune, and it was clear from the look on Miss Higgins face that she felt it too. Needed it, perhaps, despite all her coldness and judgment that spoke of not giving a damn about anything.

  “Christ, I’ll take that kind of blunt,” David muttered, and elicited a glare from his cousin.

  “You’ll get enough of it if you can manage to rein yourself and your worst impulses in,” Richard snapped. “Great God, Shaw, can’t you see I’m trying to help you?”

  David bent his head slightly. The fact was that Richard, despite being a rich fop, had been nothing but kind to him since finding him in the hells weeks ago. He actually liked the poor fool and he could see how much this all meant to him.

  Plus, he didn’t like the idea of dozens of eyes staring at him with the same icy disdain that Miss Higgins had showed him in the past five minutes.

  “Fine,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’ll try. Good as it’ll do. Your rules are shit.”

  Miss Higgins gave him a sharp look, but then she let out her breath in a long sigh. “Fine. I will…I cannot believe I’m saying this. I will do as you ask, Mr. Shaw.”

  Richard almost sagged in relief and he shook Miss Higgins’ hand swiftly. “Very good! Most excellent. Will you come with me and we will discuss the particulars?”

  She nodded and followed him from the room without so much as a backward glance for David. He scowled as he returned his attention to the garden behind the house.

  He’d spent a lifetime with judgments hanging over him. Over his mother and what she was, over his standing, over his mistakes. He’d learned to shrug it off, charm his way out of it. But this new world he was about to enter…he could see that wouldn’t be so easy. If it weren’t for the money, this woman wouldn’t even bother with him.

  He would never be good enough, it seemed, for his father’s world. Just as he’d never been good enough for his father.

  And that stung more than he cared to admit.

  Rose truly wished her hands did not shake as she approached her carriage on the drive, with Richard Shaw babbling beside her. She hardly took in what he said because her mind kept returning to his cousin. The new viscount. Her charge, because she was a fool and needed the money.

  David Shaw was not what she’d expected. Not at all. When she’d heard about him, she’d thought of a dirty, wild urchin from the street. He was not that. The man who stood before her in the parlor a moment before was…beautiful.

  His angled face was hard, yes, but not ugly or cruel. His features seemed to have been carved from marble by a master, one who gave him depth and spark and imperfection that made him all the better. The little crooked bend to his nose, the scar above his lip, they did not make him animal, but man.

  And though he hadn’t seemed comfortable in the fine clothing his cousin had clearly forced him to begin to wear, it certainly fit him well. Those broad shoulders, the lean hips, the powerful thighs? Well, he would stand out in any ballroom or parlor in the city and not in a bad way.

  Women would flock. That was half the battle.

  The other half was what his cousin was still talking about, and she forced herself to attend.

  “—come back in three days?” he said.

  She nodded. “Yes, that will give me time to take care of a few things in the city and still give us a full three weeks to work before the first ball of the Season. I assume you are working to arrange an invitation?”

  Mr. Shaw sighed and the struggle of that was clear. “I am. Lord and Lady Rockford always host the biggest and grandest fete. I think I am close to convincing them that having the first opportunity to reveal my cousin to Society will be a feather in their cap.”

  “Yes, the Rockford ball would be best,” she agreed. “Anything smaller will reflect badly on him. From my work with their daughters, I know a few families that are associated with Lady Rockford. I may be able to help a little there. I’ll try before I depart London to return here.”

  Mr. Shaw’s expression softened and he smiled at her warmly. “Thank you, Miss Higgins. I would greatly appreciate that.”

  He held her gaze for a moment, and Rose was briefly aware of the fact that he had moved a little closer. She took a step back out of reflex and he immediately dropped his gaze away.

  “Shall I see you when I return?” she asked.

  He shook his head. “No. All the arrangements will be made and then I will go to London, as well. There is much to do to ease my cousin’s entry into Society and take care of the transfer of all the estate business that was originally planned to go to me. But he will be here and ready for your tutelage, I assure you.”

  She smiled as she tipped her head toward him and then slipped i
nto her carriage. As he closed the door behind her and waved at her through the window, she let out her breath.

  The idea that Lord David Shaw would be ready for her was absurd. The idea that she was ready for him was even more so.

  But doing this duty that was so ill-advised could change both their lives. And she had to make the best of it. That was what she was good at.

  Chapter 3

  David paced the foyer as he waited for Miss Higgins to arrive and their training to begin. His cousin had left the previous day, leaving a long list of instructions that David was to follow. He almost laughed as he thought of the things Richard expected. Be a gentleman? Be respectful of the servants? Don’t menace Miss Higgins?

  He could never be a gentleman, no matter how hard he tried or how good the woman was at her job. Eventually Richard would realize that, he supposed. Then the cordiality of their relationship would likely shift. He would regret finding David and insisting he stake his claim, of that he was certain.

  Being respectful of the servants was another story. He had no intention of anything otherwise, though the butler who was giving him annoyed looks was testing that theory.

  “Have somethin’ to say?” David growled as he glared at Jackson with his most intimidating glower.

  Jackson pursed his lips. “Of course not, my lord. It seems the carriage has just pulled up.”

  David stopped pacing and turned toward the open front door. The butler was right—the carriage was drawing to a stop on the drive and a footman climbed down to open the door. Miss Higgins extended an elegant gloved hand, and then she stepped into the sunlight. She was wearing a bonnet that covered her blonde locks and a plain gray traveling coat, but it was fitted and accentuated those outrageous curves he’d noticed immediately a few days before.

  Goddamn, but the last suggestion of his cousin was going to be hard to do. Don’t menace Miss Higgins? She was the kind of woman who needed a good menacing. He wanted to know how she’d react to it. She’d blushed when he’d been suggestive with her a few days before.

  He wanted to see that again.

  She stepped into the foyer, speaking to Jackson as the man took her hat, gloves and coat. Then her green eyes swung on David and he inclined his head slightly in greeting.

  “My lord,” she said softly.

  “Miss Higgins,” he returned, emphasizing a proper accent that sounded like his cousin.

  She pursed her lips and then focused back on Jackson with a dismissive sniff for David. “You said there was tea in the parlor?”

  “Indeed, if you will follow me,” he said, and led the way down the long corridor.

  Although he hadn’t been asked, David trailed behind them, watching as Miss Higgins’ hips twitched beneath her gown in the most distracting fashion. The woman should not teach propriety with a body that could have been designed for sin.

  Jackson motioned them into the parlor and Miss Higgins spoke to him softly for a moment. Then the butler left, and for the first time David was alone with his teacher. She moved to the sideboard and poured two cups of tea. She sweetened her own with sugar and a splash of milk, then turned to him. “How do you take it, my lord?”

  He snorted out a laugh. She made it too easy for such wicked things to come to his mind. “Fast and hard.”

  Her eyebrows lifted and she didn’t move as she continued to hold the handle to his cup. The silence stretched between them for what felt like an uncomfortable decade, and then he sighed. “Just milk.”

  She nodded and added it before she brought the cup to him. “Why don’t we sit?” she said. “This is as good a way to start as any.”

  He flopped himself into the closest chair. She tilted her head at him and took her own place. She sipped her tea as he watched her, then reached for her reticule. As she withdrew a pencil and a notebook from the depths of the bag, he leaned forward, draping his elbows over his knees.

  “What’s your first name?” he asked.

  She froze and then slowly lifted her gaze to his. Her pupils were dilated so that the bright green was only a slim circle on the edges. An indication of desire. Or annoyance. He wondered which one. She was hard to read.

  Which only made her all the more interesting.

  “You do not need to know my first name,” she said.

  He arched a brow. “No? Why? Is it somethin’ awful? Is it Gertrude?”

  She didn’t smile. “Because you will never use it. You will never refer to any lady you are introduced to by her first name unless it is part of her title, and then you will always precede it with Lady or Miss.”

  He let out his breath in a long, slow sigh that he knew showed his annoyance. “Fine. Seems unfair since you have my whole name.”

  “But I’ll never call you by it,” she retorted swiftly. “Nor will anyone else unless they are very close to you, as your cousin is. In public and by acquaintances, you will always to be referred to as Lord Shaw. Or by your last name, Shaw. Or my lord.”

  “I hate the name Shaw,” he muttered.

  Her gaze flitted over his face, and for a moment he thought he saw a flash of understanding. Empathy. Then it was gone. “That is unfortunate. Perhaps you’ll grow more accustomed to it as you go along.”

  “Don’t have much of a choice,” he said, flopping back against the chair.

  She shrugged. “Most don’t have that luxury, my lord.”

  “Of choices?” he said, watching her carefully. “You did. You chose money.”

  The color left her cheeks at that observation and her back stiffened. “No. That is not a subject we will broach, my lord.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s personal,” she said.

  “Personal is bad,” he drawled.

  Her lips were pursed so tight they had all but disappeared, and yet somehow she managed to keep her tone calm as she said, “In good society one mustn’t cross certain lines, my lord. You are not to get too personal or too close.”

  He arched a brow. “So no intimacy of any kind.”

  Her gaze jerked to his and that pink blush he’d been looking for rushed to her cheeks. He couldn’t help the quirk of his lips at its arrival.

  “While I appreciate your use of such a word to describe it, certainly you must know how inappropriate that statement is. Especially to make it to a lady.”

  He tilted his head. “I know words. I’m uneducated, not a fool. And there’s many kinds of intimacy, Miss Higgins.”

  He edged farther forward on his chair and she stiffened. Then she clutched the notebook she’d withdrawn from her reticule earlier and flipped it open on her lap.

  “We will dive into this larger question in time,” she said, her tone careful, neutral. “Right now, why don’t we talk about what you know?”

  He shrugged as he took a gulp of tea. She was attempting to shut him down, and he would allow it for now. Because he’d seen that flicker beneath the surface. That thing that told him she was not immune to him.

  And that was an interesting development, indeed.

  Rose stared down at the notebook in her hand and sighed. Seeing the long list of items she would have to address with the man who still sat across from her was overwhelming to say the least. He was intelligent, that was clear just talking to him, but he was utterly uncouth, seemingly proud of that fact. And what he knew about Society seemed to include mostly items that could be used to fleece members of its ranks.

  Her head swam at the thought. Just as it swam when the man across from her looked at her as intently as he currently was. She scribbled the word staring as an item for him to work on and shifted beneath his regard. She dared to glance at him again and her heart made an odd little stutter.

  He was handsome. There was no denying that. That dark hair, those bright blue eyes… When she left here a few days before, she’d done her best to forget how very handsome he was. Pretend it had been an exaggeration brought on by the heights of emotion of the day.

  No. Wrong. The man was just an Adonis.

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p; And that would help him. If she could smooth his rough edges even a fraction, his looks and charisma would ease his entry into Society. That and his money.

  “Gonna stare all afternoon, Miss Higgins?”

  He had taken to emphasizing her full name every time he spoke to her since she had refused him her first name. When he said it, the words felt like a caress along her spine.

  Cad.

  “No, I think I have evaluated you enough, at least for now,” she said. “And we must begin somewhere, so perhaps we could review some basics of manners.”

  “Manners,” he repeated, and there was a flash of horror that crossed his face.

  “Yes,” she said. “Good manners will ease a great many situations. And the ton will be waiting for you to falter and that will be their first place to seek such evidence that you don’t belong.”

  He frowned. “Fops. So what do you want me to do?”

  “Mostly the rules of manners are simple,” she said, and stood. He remained in his place, and she sighed. “For example, when we settled in for tea, you sat down before I did. And just now when I stood, you have remained in your place.”

  “Not right?” he grunted.

  She shook her head. “A gentleman always waits for a lady to sit before he takes his place. And when she rises, he comes to his feet, as well.”

  He wrinkled his brow. “Why?”

  She opened her mouth and then shut it. Why? No one had ever asked her that question. They just did it. Great God, why was it done? What was the purpose?

  “Er,” she stammered. “Well, I suppose it is a chivalrous reasoning. A man comes to his feet or remains there in case a lady needs assistance.”

  “Help to her feet or to her seat?” he repeated, his stare still blank and without understanding. “If the lady was drunk or sick, maybe. But you seem in control. You want me to act as if you can’t even sit on your own?”

  Rose twisted her mouth. In truth, it wasn’t a bad retort. She supposed the rule really was meant to imply a lady couldn’t handle herself, even in such an easy way.