Her Errant Earl by Scarlett Scott Page B

with her on
numerous occasions in London, but he hadn’t the slightest inkling as to what
she’d be doing in his blasted drawing room. The knot of dread in his stomach
told him it couldn’t be good.
    “Lady Strathmore,” he greeted, keeping his tone polite
rather than welcoming. “I must say I’m rather shocked to see you.”
    She stood and dropped into an effortless curtsy. She was a
beautiful woman and she knew it, having shared her charms with half the ton .
“You did extend an invitation to me when last we saw one another in London.”
    Was it merely his imagining, or did the suggestive quality
of her tone imply their last meeting had been an intimate one instead of an
innocent one? A quick glance at Victoria confirmed his suspicion. His wife had
stiffened, the color draining from her lovely pink cheeks. Damn it to hell.
    He cleared his throat. It was down to some quick thinking on
his part, he supposed. He didn’t want Lady Strathmore here, but they couldn’t
very well turn her out on her well-bustled rear. Could they? It was tempting
indeed.
    “Yes, I suppose I may have,” he acknowledged, moving to
stand with Victoria in a show of solidarity for his wife’s sake. “We are
grateful you took me at my word and have decided to enjoy our hospitality here
at Carrington House. The countess has done wonders with this old place, haven’t
you, my dear?”
    Victoria appeared to gather her wits together. She
straightened. “Thank you for the compliment, my lord. Lady Strathmore, I will
be happy to have a chamber prepared for you. Do forgive me for not having one
readied prior to your arrival. I confess I hadn’t anticipated any guests as the
Season is still going strong this time of year.”
    Her barb was subtle but hit its mark well. Lady Strathmore’s
eyes narrowed into feline slits, and she tipped up her chin. “I am most
indebted to you, Lady Pembroke.” Although the words were innocuous enough, the
tone of her voice was as frozen as Wenham Lake ice.
    This wasn’t going to be pretty, deuce it. The two women were
eying one another as if about to declare pistols at dawn. And he was in the
midst of the bloody fray. He met Victoria’s gaze, trying to convey his sincere
contrition. She looked away and glided to the bell pull, calling once more for
the butler. How the devil was he going to explain this?
    He glanced back at Lady Strathmore and she gave him a
meaningful smile. “I daresay it is lovely to be in the countryside this time of
year. I cannot wait to enjoy the fresh air.”
    He had a feeling it wasn’t fresh air she wanted to enjoy.
Not going to be pretty indeed.
    * * * * *
    Victoria was not at all pleased about the appearance of Lady
Strathmore. After seeing that rooms were prepared for the unwelcome guest, she
had retired to her chamber, ostensibly to change from her riding clothes. But
she’d also been quite taken aback by the abrupt insertion of Pembroke’s past
into the present they’d been carefully creating together. She didn’t like it,
not one bit.
    “Keats,” she murmured as her maid put the finishing touches on
her toilette, “do you know anything of Lady Strathmore?”
    “Only that she has a certain reputation, my lady,” Keats
answered, serving to put Victoria more on edge than she’d been.
    Had the woman been one of Pembroke’s lovers? The thought
made her ill. Lady Strathmore was incredibly lovely, the sort of woman who
likely had her choice of any man she wanted. She’d said Pembroke had extended
an invitation to her, and she’d made certain to suggest their relationship was
of an intimate nature. Victoria hadn’t missed the way Lady Strathmore had eyed
up her husband, as if she was imagining him divested of his clothes. It had not
failed to infuriate her.
    Victoria didn’t know what to believe. She had never felt
closer to him than on their ride that morning, only to return and have their
tentative steps forward immediately reversed. She was keenly aware that
Pembroke