Seducing the Viscount by Alexandra Ivy

bold.”
    Despite the heat staining her cheeks, she met his frown with a challenging tilt of her chin.
    â€œWhy is it my duty to slap your face?” she demanded. “Why is it not your duty to avoid becoming overbold?”
    â€œBecause the penalty for my sins would be nothing more than a hotter place in hell, why you . . . you, sweet Mercy, would be the one to suffer for a brief moment of madness.”
    She appeared unimpressed by his argument. “That hardly seems fair.”
    â€œI did not make the rules, Miss Mercy Simpson, I merely play by them.”
    â€œI very much doubt you have ever played by the rules in your entire life, Mr. Ian Breckford.”
    Well, that was true enough. He had devoted a lifetime to flaunting authority and scandalizing the humorless prigs who sought to strangle him with their notions of right and wrong.
    It was only Dunnington who had managed to reach deep beneath his defensive demeanor.
    The wily old tutor had suspected Ian’s talent for numbers at an early age and had used Ian’s brash love for cards to teach him more than just gambling. Before Ian had ever realized what had happened, he was not only happily settled with Raoul and Fredrick beneath Dunnington’s roof, but he was actually enjoying his lessons.
    â€œThere must be a first occasion for everything,” he muttered.
    Her smile was wry, clearly thinking of his refusal to be her first lover.
    â€œNot for everything, it would seem.”
    With her dignity wrapped about her, Mercy turned and glided down the path to the house. Left on his own, Ian moved to slam his fist against the workbench.
    Damn the aggravating wood sprite.
    She was surely destined to lead him straight to hell.
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    Leaving her chambers well before dinner was to be announced, Ella Breckford headed down the marble corridor to the master bedroom.
    She knew at this hour her brother would be seated by the fire in his private sitting room, sipping his favorite brandy and reading the evening papers. In some ways Norry was as predictable as the rising sun or changing seasons.
    In other ways he could be an aloof stranger that not even his beloved sister could fathom.
    With a light tap on the door, Ella pushed it open and peeked into the pretty lilac and ivory room that held her brother’s framed etchings of his beloved flowers. Along one wall were shelves that held his private collection of first-edition books as well as several marble busts that immortalized the long line of Norrington men.
    Her heart clenched at the familiar aquiline nose and high brow that had been passed down through the ages. The same nose and brow that marked both her brother and Ian as true Norringtons.
    â€œNorry?” she said softly. “May I join you?”
    Folding his paper and setting it aside, her brother readily rose to his feet.
    â€œBut of course.” He touched his intricately tied cravat and smoothed his hands down his dark blue jacket as she crossed to stand before him. He was always exquisitely attired, regardless of whether he was attending a royal ball or dining alone in the country. “Is there something troubling you?”
    â€œI . . .” She bit her words as her nerves tightened her throat. This had all seemed so much simpler when she had been alone in her chambers.
    â€œMy dear, you appear in need of a sherry.” Moving toward the fireplace where a cheery blaze battled the spring chill, Norry poured her a generous portion of the delicate spirit and returned to press the glass into her hand. “Now tell me what is upon your mind.”
    Ella took a sip of the sherry, attempting to gather her fading courage.
    â€œIt is Ian,” she at last said.
    Norry’s lips thinned, his expression guarded as he toyed with the signet ring on his little finger.
    â€œI have already promised you that I would do my best to make peace with the boy, Ella. What more would you have from me?”
    She swallowed a sigh. It