Read Online The Spurned Viscountess by Shelley Munro - Free Book Online

going,” she murmured, feeling heat scorch her cheeks. “It is I who must apologize.”
    Charles Soulden sketched a bow and smiled with boyish charm. “No harm done.” He stepped past Rosalind as if to leave.
    “Wait!” Rosalind had no idea where she was. He couldn’t leave her here. Lost. Not that she wanted to admit that the floor plan of the castle disoriented her.
    His blond brows rose toward his wig. “May I help you in some way?”
    Rosalind glanced down at the kitten in her hands. “Ah…which way…?”
    A grin twitched at the corners of his mouth. “It does take time to learn how to navigate the castle.”
    In his cream breeches and jacket, he looked like a golden angel. All that was missing was a pair of wings.
    “I’m not lost,” Rosalind snapped, irritated at noticing his good looks when she was a married woman.
    “No, of course not. Walk to the end of this passage and turn left. You should find yourself at the end of the Long Gallery near the chapel.”
    “Thank you.” Shame tempered the irritation lacing her voice. He was being helpful; he couldn’t help his good looks any more than Hastings was to blame for the scar running the length of his face. “I can find my way from there.”
    His grin widened as if he saw straight through her. “What’s that you have there?”
    “A kitten.”
    His eyes twinkled mischievously. “Does Lady Augusta know?”
    “Yes,” Rosalind said, her tone indicating she didn’t wish to discuss the matter. The kitten squirmed, making guilt ripple through her. She’d dallied long enough. “I must go. Good day.”
    “Good day, Lady Hastings.”
    Rosalind hurried down the passage, following Mr. Soulden’s directions. Five minutes later she burst into her chamber more than a little out of breath.
    Mary thrust aside her darning and leaped up at the suddenness of her appearance, her freckled face paling. “Miss? What on earth?”
    “Where’s my healing bag, Mary?”
    “What do you have there?”
    “A kitten. The poor thing was half-drowned when I found it. I suspect it came from a ship, and it either fell or was tossed into the sea. My bag, Mary.”
    Mary bustled away and returned with Rosalind’s pouch of herbs and ointments. “How could it survive, falling in the water that way?” She drew closer then jerked back in alarm when Rosalind pulled back her cloak. “It be black!”
    Rosalind scowled at her maid. “This is not a witch’s cat.”
    “Hmm.” Mary pursed her lips, looked as if she might add another comment but desisted on seeing Rosalind’s glare.
    “I need a hot brick to make a warm bed for the kitten.” Rosalind turned her attention to the little creature. Still damp and bedraggled, it shivered and looked downright pitiful. Huge hazel eyes gazed at her for an instant before sliding shut. The kitten gave another convulsive shudder, and Rosalind leaped into action.
    She rubbed the kitten briskly with a soft linen towel, then she checked him for injuries. Although skinny and in need of food, there were no obvious wounds. Mary returned with a hastily assembled bed, and Rosalind was about to place the kitten inside when his paws snared her attention—his toes, to be more precise. She gasped and whipped a cover over the kitten so only his head was visible.
    “That cat is black,” Mary stated, with a toss of her head.
    Rosalind frowned at the top of the kitten’s head. And he had too many toes! Thank goodness Mary hadn’t noticed.
    A loud thump on the chamber door startled them both. For an instant, they stared at each other, silent messages passing to and fro while they decided how to proceed. The kitten had made Rosalind forget her troubles, albeit for a short time. A second insistent thump had Mary scurrying to answer. She jerked the door open and stepped back. Rosalind froze.
    Hastings.
    Rosalind settled her attention back on the kitten, rubbing it gently with the cover she had thrown over it. “Lord Hastings? May I help you with