Indiscreet by Mary Balogh Page A

been a trifle embarrassing for her.”
    â€œYou need not be vulgar,” his twin said.
    â€œPerhaps you should say that to your wife,” Lord Rawleigh said.
    â€œHave a care, Rex.” It seemed that perhaps one of their quarrels was brewing after all. “It was not wise to be alone with her even in broad daylight. But it is not only to this morning I refer. Did you visit Mrs. Winters last evening?”
    Lord Rawleigh shot him a look of pure shock. Denial sprang to his lips. But there was no point in lying to one’s twin. His nostrils flared. “How the devil did you know that?” he asked. “Has she lodged a complaint with the lord of the manor?”
    â€œI have eyes in my head,” his brother said, “and this link to your mind. Your burning wish to go walking after dark on a chilly evening in early spring did not quite ring true. I’ll not have it, Rex.”
    â€œYou’ll— What the devil?
What
will you not have?” His heart was pounding with rage.
    â€œVillage life, in case you had forgotten,” his brother said calmly—their quarrels had always been made more infuriating by the fact that the rage of one almost invariably aroused theopposite reaction in the other—“is impossible to live quite privately. I will not have her compromised. She is a lady, Rex. A mysterious lady, granted. She arrived here five years ago from goodness knows where and has proceeded to live a quiet and exemplary existence here ever since. No one knows anything of her background or anything of her late husband—including her feelings for him—beyond the fact that he was a Mr. Winters. But everything about her has proclaimed her the lady. I will not have her compromised.”
    â€œThe devil,” the viscount said, his voice trembling with anger. “At an educated guess, Claude, I would say she has been of age for several years. And therefore free to make her own decisions.”
    â€œAnd at another guess,” Claude said, “I would say you were rejected last night, Rex. You returned too early to have been successful. Mrs. Winters
is
a lady. And not at all in desperate circumstances. Her husband must have left her with a competence. And she has not lacked for suitors. It seems to be general knowledge that she has had and rejected at least two quite respectable offers—of
marriage
—since her arrival here.”
    â€œIf she is such a lady,” the viscount said, “and if you are so certain she rejected me, then why the devil are you warning me off, Claude? You want her for yourself?”
    â€œIf you want to get down from your horse,” his brother said with ominous calm, “I will gladly knock your head from your shoulders here and now, Rex.”
    â€œNo need,” the viscount said curtly. “For that at least I am willing to apologize. It was a stupid thing to say to you of all people. Yes, she rejected me. Out of hand. I even thought her dogwas going to attack me, but he seemed to think better of it. So all this lord-of-the-manor stuff was quite unnecessary.”
    â€œExcept,” Claude said, “that I have felt your distraction, Rex. Ever since we returned to Bodley. And there was your unwise presence alone with her in the music room this morning and Clarissa’s consequent suspicion. I hope that in your arrogance you have not refused to take no for an answer. I warn you that if you compromise her, you will have made yourself a permanent enemy in me.”
    â€œThat is supposed to have me trembling in my boots?” Lord Rawleigh asked, looking angrily and haughtily at his brother—at his conscience.
    â€œYes,” Claude said. “Having the other half of yourself as your enemy will not be comfortable, Rex. Leave her alone. Surely you are not so depraved that celibacy for a few weeks will kill you. You have Eden and Nat and me for company and the ladies for social diversion. And Daphne. It