The Viscount's Wicked Ways

  Anne Mallory

  The Viscount’s Wicked Ways

  To Dad,

  who never failed to tell

  the monsters in the closet

  to “quiet down in there,

  it’s time to go to sleep.”

  Love you.

  Special thanks to

  Mom, Matt,

  Selina and Paige.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Patience Harrington shivered with excitement and anticipation as she stared…

  Chapter 2

  Feeling a bit flustered from her encounter with the viscount,…

  Chapter 3

  Tilly woke her early, and Patience spent a peaceful moment…

  Chapter 4

  Patience shot upright. Groping for her wiry spectacles, she clutched…

  Chapter 5

  Thomas strode through the corridors, ignoring the maids who scuttled…

  Chapter 6

  Patience wandered through the grounds after the noon meal thinking…

  Chapter 7

  Patience sighed as she changed into darker clothes and settled…

  Chapter 8

  Thomas had been halfheartedly walking toward his study to work…

  Chapter 9

  “You are wearing a path across the floor, my lord.”

  Chapter 10

  The hard planes of a man’s body pressed into her…

  Chapter 11

  Tilly’s bustling awakened Patience. Her maid had been busy lately.

  Chapter 12

  Thomas watched Patience disappear into the castle, and turned back…

  Chapter 13

  Patience changed into her riding habit an hour before necessary,…

  Chapter 14

  Patience wiped her forehead with the back of her hand…

  Chapter 15

  “Good evening, Mrs. Tecking.” Patience tried to pass around the…

  Chapter 16

  The atmosphere inside the study was heavy with the smell…

  Chapter 17

  Patience dragged a crate forward, ducking her head as she…

  Chapter 18

  Stupid, stupid, stupid. How long would it take before she…

  Chapter 19

  “What are you doing?” A familiar voice shrieked, and for…

  Chapter 20

  Patience bolted from bed and fell to the floor. Tilly…

  Chapter 21

  The next morning dawned gray to match her mood. Slipping…

  Chapter 22

  She stumbled back, catching a glimpse of cold eyes and…

  About the Author

  Other Romances

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Chapter 1

  Patience Harrington shivered with excitement and anticipation as she stared at the massive doors adorned with pointed crowns, sinister ravens, and trailing ivy. The work of the carvings was intricately and painstakingly detailed, as if hewn in offering to an ancient god of the underworld.

  Lightning split the sky, illuminating the courtyard, turrets, and stone carvings of the night-shrouded castle. A thunderous boom shook the ground beneath her feet, causing her to wonder if Hades was just then reaching up to seize his gift.

  The bestial sculptures lining the courtyard called out to her. Protectors fending off evil spirits. Heroes slaying dragons. Warriors surging into the fray armed and ready to best the enemy.

  A low groan shifted her attention back to the castle’s magnificent doors as one slowly swung open. A distinguished figure stood backlit in the doorway—an archangel welcoming them to heaven—or a demon summoning them to hell.

  The figure motioned them inside.

  Patience took an enthusiastic breath, pushed up her spectacles, and walked into the large, marble vestibule. A towering ceiling and stark frescoes were her first impressions of the main hall. The ceiling captured the fierce battle between the ancient Greek gods and the Titans. The battle with Cronus was at center, the hundred-handed, fifty-headed Hecatonchires, the Gigantes, and Cyclopes forming a ring of arms, heads, bodies, and eyes around the edges. The shadowed gods cast their eyes upon the travelers as if to judge their worth.

  Patience reveled in the feel of the art and of the myth. Of the pure atmosphere of the lightning-kissed illusions and the rumblings as the sky stroked the earth. This was the real joy of her work. The feel of it. The imaginings. The true sensory experience. Later she would delve closer to poke and prod, to examine, dissect, and discuss, but for the moment she would simply feel and enjoy.

  She was jostled from behind as one of her fellow travelers pushed forward to escape the storm and enter behind her. She realized the great doors had only been opened partway, to keep out the sheeting rain, and that she was blocking the entrance. She immediately shifted to the side, giving the jostler an apologetic smile and lift of her shoulders. It was just her luck that it was Mrs. Tecking, the person least amused by Patience’s somewhat frequent flights of fancy.

  Chastened by the glare she received from the impatient blonde, Patience stepped aside before continuing her perusal of Blackfield Castle’s entrance hall.

  A cantilevered staircase dominated the space, its mahogany railing rising majestically upward. Newel warriors guarded each landing, warning invaders of dire consequences if they continued their ascent.

  Colorful rugs, fierce statues, decorative entrance tables, and priceless paintings framed in gold leaf adorned the floor and walls around, under, and over the grand staircase. Strange-looking sconces cast a golden light that alternated between somber and soothing depending on where she looked. Patience was impressed by the way the hall could feel both intimidating and inviting at the same time.

  “Welcome to Blackfield Castle, I am Kenfield, Lord Blackfield’s butler,” the distinguished man who had opened the door announced, as Patience finally had the presence of mind to shake out her sodden skirts.

  “Foul weather we are having,” her cousin John remarked cheerfully, as he reached out a lanky hand to pass his walking stick, greatcoat, and hat to a footman. His sandy brown hair was damp around the edges and had already started to curl. Chocolate brown eyes absorbed the room much in the same way that Patience’s had. “It’s wonderful to be here.”

  “Indeed,” Mr. Frederick Tecking said in his dry and somewhat absentminded fashion, his hazel eyes focused single-mindedly on a marble statue of Minerva in one of the hall’s nooks. It was the first comment he had made in nearly an hour, and it was not surprising that it had taken a Roman antiquity to do it. “Odd chandelier though,” he muttered, never taking his eyes off the statue.

  Patience blinked and looked up. An enormous cut-glass chandelier hung from the ceiling. And Mr. Tecking was right. There was something unusual about it.

  Before she could discover what it was, the butler gestured to a room on the left. “Please make yourself comfortable. Dry yourselves by the fire. I will inform Lady Caroline of your arrival, and your servants will be shown to their quarters.”

  Patience smiled as she watched her maid Tilly, who looked as excited as a woman a third her age, scoot down the hall. She, too, had looked upon this trip as an adventure.

  The servants climbed the stairs as Patience, John, and the Teckings walked into the ornate room. A fire blazed in a large fireplace. A plaster frieze depicting nymphs and woodland creatures rose above the chimneypiece and surrounded the hearth. A large variety of furniture was positioned in front of the fire, and Patience’s three traveling companions eased into the comfortable settees, relaxing after the last miserable hour of their journey.

  Patience, on the other hand, began to examine the frieze. Tiny leaves and intricate vines were exquis
itely crafted along with the nearly animate sculptured forest creatures. She ran her fingers along the edges, marveling at the artisan’s skill.

  “Please do sit down, Miss Harrington. You’re making me extremely nervous.”

  Patience restrained a sigh. “Do excuse my excitement, Mrs. Tecking. This is so wonderfully done.” She continued to study the lovely carvings beneath her fingertips.

  “I daresay, Miss Harrington, you will have the next three weeks to study the woodwork, the plaster, and artifacts to your heart’s content, but only this first chance to make a good impression on Lady Caroline and her nephew Lord Blackfield. Wouldn’t you say, Freddie?”

  Mr. Tecking absently patted his wife’s hand. “There, there, dear, it’s been a long trip. You’re a bit overwrought.”

  Mrs. Tecking’s pinched features pulled tighter, her icy eyes narrowed; but she quieted as usual under her husband’s attention, as infrequently as it was given. Patience released a long sigh and sat on the plum settee John was occupying, his long legs stretched out in front of him. She didn’t want to cause problems, although no matter what she did, problems seemed to follow her with the tenaciousness of one of Lady Shickles’s feral poodles.

  Kenfield returned with a tea service minutes later, and Mrs. Tecking promptly volunteered to serve. Patience turned to the butler, but before she could speak, a tremendous boom reverberated through the room. Mrs. Tecking jerked, nearly spilling the contents of her cup.

  A footman rushed over and whispered something in Kenfield’s ear. His face remained impassive, but his shoulders tightened.

  “Excuse me please, ladies, gentlemen. Lady Caroline will join you shortly.” With that, Kenfield strode from the room.

  Patience shut her mouth with a snap. Her need to use the retiring room had been increasing for the past hour, and now that she was safely inside the castle her body had decided that the need had suddenly become pressing. Listening to the steady downpour of rain was not helping matters.

  She tried to concentrate on something else. Anything else. She noticed that the chandelier was smaller than the one in the entrance hall, but it, too, was odd-looking. She crossed her legs. Crystal jars hung from the branches. She uncrossed her legs. Whatever would the jars be used for? She shifted uncomfortably to the left. And where were the candles hidden?

  She shifted right. Trying to distract herself wasn’t working. She tried to join the conversation instead as they talked about their impressions of the castle so far, a grand country estate as opposed to the drafty fortified castles of old. Patience just wished there was a moat. Unfortunately, moats made her think of water, which caused her to pinch her knees together.

  “Did you see the fourteenth-century stonework?” Mr. Tecking asked.

  “Or the thirteenth-century tapestry?” John added.

  Patience forced herself not to rock about like a child, but her efforts grew futile, and she stood. “If Lady Caroline arrives before I return, please make my excuses.”

  John cast her a sympathetic look, but Mrs. Tecking frowned. “Miss Harrington, surely you can wait a few more minutes until our hostess arrives.”

  Patience, never known for living up to her name, tried to give the woman a disarming smile. “No, Mrs. Tecking, I’m afraid not. I won’t be five minutes. No need to worry.”

  “But—”

  Patience slipped through the door and into the hall before anyone could remind her of what had happened the last time she had gone unaccompanied in a foreign house. Part of the reason her father had sent her on this trip was to remove her from London and allow the gossip to die down. Not that she wasn’t a skilled antiquarian—she was perfectly suited for this expedition regardless of the gossip.

  But as naive as she sometimes could be, she had seen her father’s relief and excitement. He felt the trip was a twofold blessing. The first was the cataloging and acquisition of the Ashe largesse, Lady Caroline’s generous donation to the museum. The second, and more important, his happiness at removing his beloved child from the distasteful rumors running rampant through the city.

  Patience pushed the rumors from her mind. She had dreamed of this trip for weeks and refused to allow the unpleasant thoughts of London to ruin her grand adventure. And at this very moment her grand adventure consisted of finding a room and a pot. Not necessarily in that order if she were forced to wait twenty minutes more.

  Any of the servants should be able to assist her. Actually, the butler should have guided their party to the appropriate area on their arrival. He was obviously preoccupied.

  His preoccupation seemed to have spilled over to include the footmen. She was disgruntled to find no one present in the hall, where only twenty minutes before there had been at least fifteen servants bustling about. She peered in each direction and called out a greeting, but the only response to her overture was the steadily falling rain and crackling thunder outside.

  Thinking about the rain again was not helping her condition, so she decided to take matters into her own hands and investigate. She reasoned that she should encounter a person by walking down the hall with the most light.

  Heading down a well-lit hall, she called out greetings. Beautiful tapestries and paintings dominated the walls, and small alcoves with statues and armor were nestled at random intervals. She vowed to return when she could better appreciate the work. John loved medieval tapestries, and she would definitely tell her cousin where to find such a large and beautiful assortment.

  Where was everyone? The hall branched out. Two paths were lit equally by ornate sconces, so she proceeded left. Twice more she turned left, and Patience decided that maybe it was time to stop searching for a person and begin looking for the room herself. Lifting a hand lamp conveniently placed halfway down the hall, she opened a nearby door, poked her head inside, and barely contained a shout of glee as she found what she had been searching for.

  After taking care of her immediate needs, she perused her surroundings more seriously. Strange handles, knobs, and cords rimmed the room. Patience reached out and pulled a handle on the left. Whoosh. She couldn’t be sure with the torrential storm raging outside, but it sounded like a gush of water emanating from somewhere in the walls. She pulled it again. Whoosh. And again. Whoosh.

  It was a funny noise, so she pulled it twice more before moving to the knob on its right. She turned the knob a few times, but nothing happened. After that was a cord that hooked into the wall. She gave it a tug and heard a click, but disappointingly, nothing appeared to happen with it either.

  Next in line was an intricate conglomeration of machinery attached to an arm. She pulled the arm and was surprised when a small stream of water poured into the hand bowl. She pulled it a few more times, running her hand beneath the cold spray. The bowl was nearly full, so she abandoned it and grasped the last handle.

  A thump alerted her to look at the chamber pot as the bottom opened and the contents dropped. When she let the handle loose in surprise, the bottom slammed back into place. She stared open-jawed at the empty pot. A chamber pot that emptied itself? Where did the contents go? She peered around it and even tried the handle a few more times, trying to see beneath. In her haste upon entering she hadn’t noticed anything odd about the pot, but now she could see it was composed of separate pieces.

  She shook her head. The light was too low. She’d have to come investigate during the day. She gave the whooshing handle one last tug, her mouth curling as the whoosh moved from one side of the room to the other. It wasn’t polite conversation, but she would have to come up with a suitable way to ask someone about the devices. Perhaps Tilly could ferret the information from the castle servants.

  Patience began to retrace her steps to the drawing room when another boom of thunder caused her to jump. The storm was not abating. She smiled as she listened to it raging outside.

  The shadows hugged the walls, and her fertile imagination conjured up images of ghosts and beasties that could be waiting around the castle’s corners prepared to leap upon a
distracted traveler. Phantoms and ghouls springing in her mind, she was unsurprised to hear the creaking sound that came from within a room on her right. It was a distinctive sound, like a window opening. A window opening for a ghoul to enter.

  She paused. Yes, there it was again.

  The same curiosity that had caused her to open the door at the Speckling Rout when she had heard moaning and stifled screams, only to discover Lord Seagram doing interesting things to Lady Hillshine, prompted her to open the door here too.

  Except for a faint light cast by a softly banked fire in the grate, the room was dark.

  Patience stopped, listened, then cautiously slipped inside. A window was sliding upward. A flash of lightning highlighted a figure wearing a pointed collar drenched in blood as he grasped the open window ledge. A scream stuck in her throat as the vampire hauled himself up and over the sill, his long cloak slithering behind.

  Recovering from her initial shock, Patience grabbed the first objects at hand, statues that had been displayed on twin pedestals near the door. Arms outstretched, she crossed the statues before her.

  “Stop! Fiend!”

  The vampire dropped to the floor and raised his dark head in surprise. “Who the devil are you?”

  She shook the statues at him, keeping them in a crossed position. “Go on, get out of here. The lord of the castle and his servants will be here shortly. Best get out while you still are able.” Her voice wavered as the figure stepped forward.

  He snorted and brushed water, not blood as she had initially thought, off his sleeves, before removing his wet cloak and casting it aside. “Now that would be amusing. Go tell the lord of the castle that I’m waiting.”

  Well, he wasn’t acting like she assumed a vampire would, but he certainly looked the fiend, shadows clinging to his form, cloak enveloping him in darkness. She wasn’t going to get close enough to examine his teeth for verification though.