The Viscount's Counterfeit Wife Read Free Page A

the top of
the stairs and were almost at the door to her room. Foster put his
gun to his shoulder and, nudging her aside, shuffled ahead to enter
first, determined to protect her.
    “Serve him right.”
Foster muttered fiercely, stomping into the room. His head swiveled
left and right. “Where is he?”
    “What do you mean?”
Tally rushed forward. “He can’t have gone!” She peeked around
Foster’s shoulder and gasped. The man was no longer there!

Chapter Two
    Pure instinct had her
spinning around to check behind the door. It’s where she’d have
hidden to wait and attack the shooter, when he came through the door.
She inhaled sharply. That was exactly where he was. Only he’d
passed out and was lying slumped up against the wall. An empty
candlestick holder lay beside his lifeless hand.
    Foster’s head would
have suffered serious damage had the intruder succeeded in wielding
it. She should have tied him up before going to get help.
    “There he is!” She
exclaimed. “Behind the door!” She moved cautiously to the
stranger’s side. “He must have regained consciousness and dragged
himself…” She pointed to the floor. “Look at the trail of blood
on the carpet.”
    Foster moved to stand
beside her and was gawking at the intruder lying lifeless half on the
floor, half propped up against the wall. “But Miss Tally, that
there’s no thief.” He pointed an arthritic finger at the man.
“He’s a gentleman. Look at his clothes!”
    Then he shook his head
and, lifting the blunderbuss, growled, “Nah, he may be dressed
fancy but a real gentleman don’t go climbing in a young lady’s
window.”
    “I agree.” She
quickly searched for a reasonable explanation, before Foster took it
into his head to use his ancient but deadly weapon on the stranger.
    “He might have been
looking for the previous tenant.” Seeing his doubtful look, she
tried another idea. “Or he might have planned a secret tryst with
some woman and mistook the house.”
    Foster snorted his
incredulity.
    She explained further,
“you know there are several of our neighbors who seem a little
questionable.” To herself she added, and
that’s probably what they’re saying about you too, staying here
in this house with no companion .
    The area they were
living in was less fashionable than Mayfair, it was true, but until
now it had seemed respectable, though still almost deserted leading
up to the Season.
    “Take the widow from
Number 18, on the corner. There are a lot of comings and goings at
all hours there.”
    “Miss Tally!”
Foster looked discomfited to discover she was no longer an oblivious,
green girl.
    “He might have been
trying to surprise his mistress or was spying on her because he …”
she tailed off. With Foster itching to shoot the man, it was best not
to mention where her imagination was taking her. She kept her hand
firmly anchored on Foster’s gun to prevent him from pointing it at
the intruder.
    Her feisty factotum
appeared to be relenting, and she was about to remove her hand from
the gun, when he said, “Hmmm... mebbe so, but a refined man knocks
at the door. He doesn’t climb in the window.”
    “Perhaps he does if
he wants to avoid an angry husband.”
    “Missy!” His
outrage came more from her stating the obvious, than from anything
else. Nevertheless, she stepped in front of the blunderbuss to block
his aim.
    She leaned down to
bring the lamp closer and pulled back the unconscious man’s coat
for Foster to see the wound.
    “Blast his eyes!”
the old man exclaimed. “The man was set to ravish you! Look at him,
bare chest and all.”
    “No, no. I did that.”
    At his shocked look,
she quickly explained, “I was searching for the wound. The blood
was all over his chest and I wanted to stop it.” She twisted her
hands in anguish. “I was afraid I had killed him!” Glancing down,
she shuddered. Her hands were covered in blood. She gulped back her
dismay. “When I saw it was coming from the back of