Page 3 of The Earl Next Door
“A house of pleasure.”
Outrage quickly morphed to fury, which flowed hot and fast, consuming her. Oh yes, she knew about such disgraceful, secret places. She’d overheard her husband and his small group of gentlemen friends talk about visiting them.
Adeline was skilled at holding in her emotions, but this man had gone too far. With only one step she stood toe-to-toe with him. Lifting her face, she rose up on the balls of her feet and edged her nose closer to his. “You think this is one of the many private underground brothels hidden from all but Society’s most elite gentlemen?”
“Isn’t it?” he asked huskily.
There was no time to consider what her next move should be. Hardening her resolve and taking a step back, she proclaimed, “I am the Dowager Countess of Wake and you have trespassed too far. How dare you push your way into my house and speak to me the way you have. You, sir, are an abomination to the termgentleman.”
She fought to regain every ounce of her normalcalm, her abiding restraint, her guiding sense of decorum in any unpleasant circumstance. But then she accidentally looked at his mouth, felt that long-suppressed surge of yearning. Adeline didn’t want this unusual mix of longing and angry dizziness to control her. She hated the truth of how womanly and desirable it made her feel to see hunger for her in his eyes. Hated the truth of how she was presented.
And then, in a moment of insanity, she thought of the very real possibility of those full lips on hers stirring with passion, and reason was gone.
Unable to do anything else before she lost herself completely, she drew back her hand and struck him soundly across the face. It was that, or kiss him.
Perhaps she chose the wrong one.
Chapter 2
Lyon’s head snapped back.
A jolt of shock whipped through him. He wasn’t an easy man to catch off guard, but he hadn’t seen that coming.
Hell’s horses!
Not a madam, but a countess. And a widow at that. He mentally shook himself and swore quietly again. Flashes of old gossip raced through his mind at hearing her name, but there was no time to plunder his memory for the snippets.
He knew she was telling the truth the instant she’d said her name, though her manner of dress and his aunt’s assertions a brothel was being established in the neighborhood belied her words. No wonder he’d thought her too young, too beautiful, and toowholesome-looking to be working in a house of pleasure when he’d first seen her twirling in the drawing room like a lighthearted miss.
Now he knew why.
In his twenty-eight years he thought he’d seen, heard, and done most everything that was available to a man of his privilege and station in life. But this lady had just proven otherwise.
With unquestionable clarity.
For now, he was cautiously managing, with difficulty to be sure, to hold his anger in check. After all, why surrender to the madness of what she’d done and give her the satisfaction.
Lyon Marksworth, the Earl of Lyonwood, had never been slapped. By a madamora lady. That garnered her his admirationandhis ire. He was accustomed to calm and order in his life, and the countess had just upset both by not being who he thought she was.
“Lady Wake, I am Lyonwood. Your neighbor.”
The countess’s flushed face suddenly went ashen.
He bowed but offered no apology. At first. She’d had her justice in spades and aces—the whole damn deck. However, she looked appalled by her action upon hearing his name so he would take it on the chin and shoulder the responsibility. And he had been wrong, so he added, “For entering your house without an invitation and mistaking who you were, my apologies.”
So they were both in a deep dilemma. How did an earl and a dowager countess proceed now that their identities were made known after such an unforgettable first meeting?
“Lord Lyonwood,” she said, managing a begrudging, rigid, and very slight curtsy.
From his first memory, Lyon had been taught to be a gentleman. He knew all the acceptable rules of proper behavior and manners depending on whatever situation he found himself—a gentleman, a gambler, or a rake. There were certain values a man of honor followed no matter the situation. Above all, he protected his family and others when necessary. He respected life and loyalty, and he paid his debts. Whether or not warranted, he always gave a man he suspected might be cheating at cards the benefit of the doubt—once.
A gentleman lavished gifts, financial support, and satisfaction on his mistresses. Likewise, he bestowed sweet compliments, rides in the park, and when appropriate, flowers on proper young ladies in Society. Lyon had never muddled the two.
Until this afternoon.
Now that he knew who she was, he felt it incumbent that he should say something about her husband.
“It was tragic what happened to your—”
