Married to the Viscount by Sabrina Jeffries

amusement. “I didn’t know what to think.”
    Spencer led Abby down the next flight of stairs to the ground floor, leaving Lady Brumley to hasten after them.
    “It’s not every day that an English viscount of your standing takes an American wife, you know,” the annoying woman said behind them.
    “It’s not every day an English viscount meets an American as fascinating as my wife,” Spencer countered smoothly. When they reached the entrance hall, he gestured to the footmen, who scurried to fetch his coat and Abby’s pelisse.
    He flashed Lady Brumley an even smile. “If you’ll excuse us, we’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”
    “Which theater are you attending?”
    “Covent Garden.” He helped Abby with her pelisse and donned his coat.
    Lady Brumley snorted. “I was there only last week, and the first thing is a stupid trifle of a farce, nothing to bother with. You could miss that. Fortunately, the play after is much better.” Removing a vial from her reticule, Lady Brumley waved it in the air. “Besides, before you run off I want to hear more about Lady Ravenswood’s interesting concoction—this Medicinal Mead of her father’s.”
    Damn. The cursed woman had that bottle of Mead he’d taken from Abby’s reticule the night before.
    “So that’s where my vial went,” Abby said as she reached for it. “I’ve been looking for it everywhere.”
    Lady Brumley returned it quickly to her own reticule. “I’m not done trying it out. You can have it back when I’m finished.” She flipped open her notepad. “But so far it doesn’t look promising. I tried it on my indigestion last night and nothing happened.”
    When Abby’s hand tensed on his arm, Spencer covered it with his own and gave it a warning squeeze. “I’m afraid discussion of Mercer’s Mead will have to wait for another time,Lady Brumley. I agreed to pick up Lady Tyndale and her daughter in my carriage, so we cannot be late.”
    Maneuvering Abby past the meddlesome gossip, he headed for the door, secure in McFee’s ability to dispose of the woman on his own.
    But Abby called back before they got through the front doors, “Do try it again with some milk, my lady. I think you’ll find it works better that way. And if it doesn’t, come see me and we’ll add another posset to it.”
    Tightening his grip on Abby’s arm, Spencer pulled her out the door and down the steps into the waiting carriage.
    As soon as she was settled on the seat opposite him and the doors had closed, he erupted. “You’re not to see that woman in private, do you hear? She isn’t as harmless as she appears. One heedless word to a shark like Lady Brumley and—”
    “Speaking of heedless, you told her we’d made a love match.” Abby drew her pelisse tighter about her shoulders. “How much more heedless can one get?”
    “It was the only plausible explanation left,” he said defensively. “No one would believe I’d married you to enhance my wealth or further my political career.”
    He regretted his bald words when she set her mouth stubbornly. “Thank you for reminding me that I have no rank or family connections to commend me to a man as important as yourself.”
    “I didn’t mean—”
    “I know what you meant. Don’t worry, I won’t forget my place again.”
    Bloody hell. He hadn’t meant to prick her pride. Why was he always too blunt with her? Usually he had no trouble flattering women, but Abby was so direct it flustered him, prompting him to meet her with equal directness.
    But that was no excuse. Leaning forward to clasp her gloved hands, he refused to release them when she tried pulling away. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be such a cur—”

    “And yet you are. It must come naturally.” At that moment, she looked as haughty as any affronted miss and more a woman of “rank” than she realized.
    “I’ll make it up to you. Think of the next few weeks as your pleasure trip to London. I have duties at Parliament, but when I can