Page 28 of A Very Bellamy Christmas

Chapter 4

Viscountess Needham did not speak as she led the countess and Stacia down two corridors and up a flight of stairs before knocking on a particularly elaborate door and then opening it a few inches. “I’m sorry to interrupt, Needham, but I need a few moments of your time.”

A low voice replied and Lady Needham opened the door wider to allow Lady Addiscombe and Stacia to enter.

Stacia dragged her feet but could think of no way to avoid what was likely going to be an excruciating experience. Surely the viscount would send her away?

The towering lord was standing beside a younger man who was every bit as tall but so lean he was almost gaunt. Both men were dressed in their evening blacks but were engaged in something that involved piles and piles of documents spread out over a massive desk.

Lord Needham strode toward his wife, an expression of concern on his harsh features. “What is it, darling? You look flushed. Is something—”

“I am fine,” she assured him. “I know you are in the middle of something important, but my mother wanted a word with you.”

The viscount looked from his wife to his mother-in-law, his face hardening. “I have a few minutes but not many. I must have this letter out within the hour if it is to reach Bristol in time.” The abrupt words were directed toward the countess, rather than his wife. “Have a seat, my lady.” He turned back to Lady Needham, his expression instantly softening and cupped her cheek in one giant hand. “Are you sure you are all right, my love? I suspect you have been over-exerting yourself. I could have dinner sent up to your chambers and you could rest if you—”

“No, no, that isn’t necessary. But thank you, Needham. I should get back to our guests.”

His eyelids drooped as he lowered his head and proceeded to thoroughly kiss his wife.

The sight caused a pleasurable pulsing between Stacia’s thighs, and she quickly dropped her gaze to the floor, the yearning inside her chest overpowering the sudden bolt of desire. Desire not for Needham, but for the way he so obviously loved and adored his wife. Lady Needham had an engaging smile and a lovely nature, but she was not an especially beautiful woman. And yet this powerful, attractive, wealthy man clearly worshipped her. It was impossible not to be at least a little bit envious.

The countess, evidently, thought otherwise. She heaved an exaggerated sigh. “If this revolting display is meant for my sake, you are wasting your time, Needham.”

Needham didn’t seem affected by the countess’s scathing words, but the viscountess stiffened.

The viscount gradually released his wife and stepped away, giving her cheek one last caress before escorting her to the door and ushering her out.

When it was closed, the big lord turned back toward them and the temperature in the room plummeted.

The viscount’s hard-edged gaze did not leave the countess as he strode back to his desk. Only when he was seated did he speak. “How may I serve you, my lady?”

“Please dismiss your servant,” she said, jerking her chin at the other man, who was seated at a smaller desk, his quill rapidly scratching across parchment.

“Mr. Dennehy is my secretary and privy to all my business, ma’am. And right now, he is involved in business that is extremely important.” Unlike you. Although the words were unspoken, his meaning caused the countess’s face to darken. “Mr. Dennehy will remain here. If you do not care for that, you are welcome to leave.”

“Business!” The countess spat the word as if it were a fly she’d found in her tea.

“How may I serve you today?” Lord Needham repeated, his voice as mild as ever, but his gaze as cold as an arctic wind.

“Were you aware the Marquess of Shelton would be a guest here?”

“Of course.”

“Are you not aware that is the same man who abducted one of my daughters and destroyed her life?”

The viscount set his hands on the desk and laced his fingers. “I just saw Lady Shaftsbury and her husband a few hours ago and she did not appear to be a woman whose life was ruined.”

“And what would you know of the matter?” the countess snapped, her voice pulsing with loathing.

The change in Needham was so slight that Stacia was amazed she saw it. His expression was still as bland as before, his posture just as relaxed, but Stacia knew—without being able to articulate it—that the viscount was angry. Very, very angry.

As if he’d heard her thoughts, his sharp gaze turned her way, and it was all she could do not to cower beneath the weight of it.

“Why have you decided to subject Miss Martin to this conversation, my lady?”

“I’ve brought her along because this concerns her.”

Stacia’s jaw dropped. How in the world did Lady Addiscombe know about her feelings for—