Chapter 4

Viscountess Needham did not speak as she led the countess and Stacia down two corridors and up a flight of stairs before knocking on a particularly elaborate door and then opening it a few inches. "I'm sorry to interrupt, Needham, but I need a few moments of your time."

A low voice replied and Lady Needham opened the door wider to allow Lady Addiscombe and Stacia to enter.

Stacia dragged her feet but could think of no way to avoid what was likely going to be an excruciating experience. Surely the viscount would send her away?

The towering lord was standing beside a younger man who was every bit as tall but so lean he was almost gaunt. Both men were dressed in their evening blacks but were engaged in something that involved piles and piles of documents spread out over a massive desk.

Lord Needham strode toward his wife, an expression of concern on his harsh features. "What is it, darling? You look flushed. Is something—"

"I am fine," she assured him. "I know you are in the middle of something important, but my mother wanted a word with you."

The viscount looked from his wife to his mother-in-law, his face hardening. "I have a few minutes but not many. I must have this letter out within the hour if it is to reach Bristol in time." The abrupt words were directed toward the countess, rather than his wife. "Have a seat, my lady." He turned back to Lady Needham, his expression instantly softening and cupped her cheek in one giant hand. "Are you sure you are all right, my love? I suspect you have been over-exerting yourself. I could have dinner sent up to your chambers and you could rest if you—"

"No, no, that isn't necessary. But thank you, Needham. I should get back to our guests."

His eyelids drooped as he lowered his head and proceeded to thoroughly kiss his wife.

The sight caused a pleasurable pulsing between Stacia's thighs, and she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor, the yearning inside her chest overpowering the sudden bolt of desire. Desire not for Needham, but for the way he so obviously loved and adored his wife. Lady Needham had an engaging smile and a lovely nature, but she was not an especially beautiful woman. And yet this powerful, attractive, wealthy man clearly worshipped her. It was impossible not to be at least a little bit envious.

The countess, evidently, thought otherwise. She heaved an exaggerated sigh. "If this revolting display is meant for my sake, you are wasting your time, Needham."

Needham didn't seem affected by the countess's scathing words, but the viscountess stiffened.

The viscount gradually released his wife and stepped away, giving her cheek one last caress before escorting her to the door and ushering her out.

When it was closed, the big lord turned back toward them and the temperature in the room plummeted.

The viscount's hard-edged gaze did not leave the countess as he strode back to his desk. Only when he was seated did he speak. "How may I serve you, my lady?"

"Please dismiss your servant," she said, jerking her chin at the other man, who was seated at a smaller desk, his quill rapidly scratching across parchment.

"Mr. Dennehy is my secretary and privy to all my business, ma'am. And right now, he is involved in business that is extremely important." Unlike you. Although the words were unspoken, his meaning caused the countess's face to darken. "Mr. Dennehy will remain here. If you do not care for that, you are welcome to leave."

"Business!" The countess spat the word as if it were a fly she'd found in her tea.

"How may I serve you today?" Lord Needham repeated, his voice as mild as ever, but his gaze as cold as an arctic wind.

"Were you aware the Marquess of Shelton would be a guest here?"

"Of course."

"Are you not aware that is the same man who abducted one of my daughters and destroyed her life?"

The viscount set his hands on the desk and laced his fingers. "I just saw Lady Shaftsbury and her husband a few hours ago and she did not appear to be a woman whose life was ruined."

"And what would you know of the matter?" the countess snapped, her voice pulsing with loathing.

The change in Needham was so slight that Stacia was amazed she saw it. His expression was still as bland as before, his posture just as relaxed, but Stacia knew—without being able to articulate it—that the viscount was angry. Very, very angry.

As if he'd heard her thoughts, his sharp gaze turned her way, and it was all she could do not to cower beneath the weight of it.

"Why have you decided to subject Miss Martin to this conversation, my lady?"

"I've brought her along because this concerns her."

Stacia's jaw dropped. How in the world did Lady Addiscombe know about her feelings for—

"How so?" the viscount demanded.

"Miss Martin is an unmarried girl of gentle birth. That is exactly the type of woman Shelton prefers to victimize. By having that—that villain in my family's home you are jeopardizing my companion's reputation. She deserves to hear your excuse for placing her in such danger."

Stacia opened her mouth to assure Lord Needham that she had no such concerns, but the viscount's rapier-like gaze was riveted on Lady Addiscombe.

"The only person in this house who has the right to object to Lord Shelton's presence here is Lady Shaftsbury. Before the Duke and Duchess of Chatham asked my wife if they could bring Shelton as a guest they wrote to Lady Shaftsbury, who gave her consent. My wife then added him to our guest list. Phoebe is mistress of this house and has complete control over domestic matters." He cocked his head slightly. "I find it interesting that your own daughter—an unmarried one—has been living in proximity to Shelton for months and has come to no harm. Are you not concerned for Lady Kathryn's wellbeing?"

The countess gave a derisive huff. "Kathryn rejected my home in favor of her older sister's. Short of physically dragging her away, there is little I can do."

"It was my understanding that you sent Kathryn to her aunt's rather than invite her to live with you in Bath. I specifically recall Kathryn being upset that she was being sent to live with your sister rather than accompanying you to your new home."

Stacia stared at the countess, waiting for her to deny such a thing. Instead, the older woman seethed, thwarted.

The viscount turned to Stacia and his expression gentled. "I do not want you to go about my house in fear for your reputation or your person. If you find Shelton's presence in any way concerning, you need only nod and I will make arrangements for him to leave. You will not be implicated in the decision, and nobody will ever know of your part in it except the four of us in this room."

If Stacia said no , her employer would not be pleased with her. If she accepted Lord Needham's offer, then she would be admitting that she feared Lord Shelton when she didn't. If anything, she feared her own behavior around him, but she did not believe he would abduct or compromise her.

More's the pity…

Stacia turned to Lady Addiscombe. "It would be a lie to claim that I fear for my reputation, my lady."

The countess fixed her with a look that did not bode well for continued employment.

Needham evidently thought so, too. "If Miss Martin's answer is unacceptable to you then I will be pleased to pay her a generous severance, provide a glowing letter of reference, and arrange for her transportation back to Bath—or anyplace else she wishes to go."

Stacia stared, warmed by the man's generous offer.

"Miss Martin will remain in my service," the countess snapped. "You will not rid the house of this scourge?"

"If by scourge you mean Shelton, then no."

Lady Addiscombe surged to her feet and marched toward the door in a flurry of skirts.

Stacia scrambled to open the door for her, but the viscount's voice stopped her just as she reached for the handle.

"One more thing, my lady."

Stacia sensed a titanic struggle taking place inside the countess and wondered, for a moment, if she would simply leave without listening to what he had to say.

But self-preservation overwhelmed her pride, and she inhaled deeply and then turned around.

The viscount had come closer and was standing only a few feet away.

"Yes?" the countess demanded rudely.

The big man came even closer, until he was standing mere inches from his mother-in-law, who had to crane her neck if she wanted to meet his gaze.

"If you ever upset my wife again—or cause her so much as a flicker of annoyance—you will not be welcome in any of my homes. Ever. Do you understand me?"

The hairs on the back of Stacia's neck stood endwise at the quiet menace in his tone.

For the first time, she saw uncertainty on Lady Addiscombe's face. Although the viscount hadn't threatened to cut off her allowance—which everyone knew was how the countess managed to live so well when her husband had gambled away all the family money—she must have realized just how tenuous her position would be if she were barred from attending future family functions.

The older woman swallowed, opened her mouth, but then closed it and jerked out an abrupt nod.

Rather than smile in triumph at having routed his foe, Lord Needham gave Stacia a speaking look when the countess stormed from the room. He quietly said, "Remember that you have choices, Miss Martin." And then he turned and strode back to his desk, leaving Stacia to ponder his words as she hurried after her employer.