Pursued By The Viscount by Carole Mortimer

search for the other man, to no avail. No one had seen Stanforth after he dined at his club yesterday evening. Nor had he returned home since then.  
    It was too much to hope that someone had robbed and struck the other man over the head before dumping his body in the Thames.
    No, Lucien had come to the unpleasant conclusion that for Stanforth to have disappeared so completely, he had to have done so deliberately.
    Which begged the question, why had he?
    In Lucien’s opinion, Stanforth’s disappearance, following so quickly after his blackmail and threats to Rachel, was too much of a coincidence for it to be unrelated.
    Rachel looked…tired this morning, despite the cheerful lemon silk gown she wore. She had obviously still been angry with him when he arrived. There was no doubt in his mind he was the person she had been describing to Thea Remington as Satan’s spawn.
    There was no sign of that displeasure toward him now as Rachel wrung her gloved hands together. “Where could he have gone? And why?”
    “I am still investigating.” Lucien frowned. “I will find him, Rachel,” he added decisively. “But, in the meantime, I thought you should be made aware of his disappearance.”
    “Thank you. I appreciate your having confided in me.”
    There was little or no reason for Rachel to thank Lucien when, instead of helping her, he might now have made this situation more dire than ever. Lucien had no doubt Stanforth was plotting and planning some scheme with the intention of bringing more misery into Rachel’s life.
    Lucien understood Rachel’s plea that she could not preempt Stanforth’s blackmail by revealing his affair with her husband Lord James Shaw. Not without also bringing her son’s father into disrepute and so affecting the child’s future. But that acceptance did not make it any less a bitter pill for Lucien to swallow.
    When he finally caught up with Stanforth and had Rachel’s letters returned to him, that gentleman was going to know the full force of Lucien’s wrath.
    Which was considerable.
    In the meantime, he intended to distract Rachel.
    “How are you feeling this morning?” he prompted innocently.
    That frown returned to her brow. “I am perfectly well, thank you.”
    “You seemed…a trifle out of sorts, when we parted yesterday evening?” Lucien picked up one of the two cups of tea, his gaze resting on Rachel as he took a sip of the cooling brew. He had noted on his arrival that she was moving a little warily this morning.
    Color stained her cheeks. “You behaved disgracefully last night.”
    He grinned unabashedly. “You did not enjoy the play?”
    Her eyes narrowed in warning. “We are not going to have that conversation again.”
    Lucien chuckled. “Both I and my cock have suffered terribly since we parted.”
    The color deepened in her cheeks. “At the risk of repeating myself—good!”
    “I had not suspected you of being such a hard-hearted woman.”
    “I had not suspected you were the devil incarnate, but it would seem we were both deceived.”
    Lucien liked Rachel in this mood. Defiant. Confident. Utterly beautiful in her anger. “If I were to get down on my knees and kiss the hem of your gown, would you consider forgiving me?”
    She eyed him suspiciously. “Why would you do such a thing?”
    His grin returned. “So that I might then progress to kissing your ankle, your calf, your knee, your thigh, your pussy—”
    “No, I would not forgive you,” she cut in primly, although the feverish glitter in her eyes gave lie to her claim. “Lucien, what are we going to do about Stanforth?” she groaned.
    “You are not going to do anything.” He scowled, displeased that his teasing had not succeeded in diverting her, as it had been meant to do. Not that he would have refused an offer to kiss Rachel anywhere she would allow it, but he had meant the banter as a means of distracting her. “My men and I are going to continue to look for him. You will go about your life as