Viscount of Vanity by Tammy Andresen (little red riding hood ebook free TXT) 📕

But he had a busy day if they hoped to leave tomorrow.

Which he did. He was anxious to escape this village and leave her father far behind.

Austin had seen Gabriella’s father on two separate occasions, indicating he’d not been caught yet.

Would he flee?

Was it too much to hope that Mr. Winston would leave the country?

Easing out of the bed, he pulled the bell cord to call for a bath.

Gabriella lifted her head. “Where are you sneaking off to?”

He chuckled. “Not sneaking. I rang for a bath…for both of us.”

She blushed then, tossing back the covers, and pulling on her dressing robe. “That’s a lovely idea.”

“I’ve got to spend most of the day in the village so that we’ll be ready for tomorrow, but I’d thought we’d spend a bit of time together first.”

She stepped up to him and placed her arms about his waist. “I wish I could go with you.”

He stroked her hair again. “I hate leaving you here. But I think it’s best you just not see him. He’ll only cause you trouble.”

“I agree.” She stepped back as a knock came at the door.

The bath took a fair bit longer than Austin had anticipated, but as he made his way to town, squeaky clean and thoroughly satisfied, he began to whistle despite the grey day as the carriage rumbled down the rutted dirt road.

Tomorrow would be the first day of the rest of their lives.

He went to the barrister first, gathered up his paperwork, then to the cobbler, and finally the dressmaker.

As he was about to return, he noticed the three men who’d been pursuing Mr. Winston standing outside the inn, giving him a pointed look. Did they wish for his help in capturing his father-in-law?

He considered ignoring them but crossed the street instead. If Winston had involved him or Gabriella in some way, it was better to know. “Gentlemen.”

“My lord,” one of them replied.

The address made Austin pause. How did they know he was a lord? He stretched to his full height. “I beg your pardon?”

“We know you’re a viscount,” another answered.

Unease curled in his stomach. He stared between the men, trying to decide the best course of action. Lordly disdain was likely his best option. He straightened his shoulders, glaring down at the men. “What difference does it make?”

The one closest to him took a half step back. “Mr. Winston says you’re going to pay. Today,” he said, puffing out his chest.

He clenched his fist. “Mr. Winston is mistaken. You should capture him. You are men of the law, I assume?”

The third coughed. “We are. And from what we see here, you’ve stolen something that’s his, and once you pay him, he can pay us.”

His throat closed and he swallowed down a lump. He knew where this was going, and cold sweat broke out on his forehead. “I’ve nothing that belongs to him.” They were referring to Gabriella. Somehow Winston had convinced these men that Austin had stolen away his daughter, and that he’d pay for her hand. Which was ridiculous. He’d already paid for her hand.

The first man wagged his finger. “He’s going to take his daughter back. If you want her, you’ll have to really marry her this time.”

He pulled the papers from his coat. “I’ve already married her, gents. I’ve got the papers to prove it. You, however, have been conned.” He watched their faces harden as they realized the truth. “I suggest you follow me. Let’s see if we can get you your man.”

* * *

Gabriella sat in the kitchen while Mrs. Butterfield peeled potatoes. She’d been helping to roll out pie crusts, but she’d taken a break for a bit of tea.

Sighing, she took another sip. “This is delightful, Mrs. Butterfield. Thank you.”

“Thank you.” The other woman gave her a warm smile. “I’ll miss you when you leave tomorrow.”

Gabriella returned the grin. She’d miss the other woman too. “I’d hate to steal the baron and baroness’s cook but…”

Mrs. Butterfield chuckled. “I appreciate the offer, but I’ve been here my entire life, and here is where I shall stay. But I’d love if you came and visited.”

Gabriella reached out for the woman’s hand. “I definitely will.”

They held each other’s fingers for a moment before they let go again. “Good. Now, I shall be right back. I need some thyme from the garden.”

Gabriella nodded, glad to stay by the stove with her tea. While the weather was slowly warming and the world was blooming, a cold, drizzling rain had begun to fall.

The door had no more closed behind Mrs. Butterfield and she took another sip of her tea when, almost immediately, it opened again.

Turning, Gabriella smiled. “Did you forget your bonnet?” But the words died on her lips. Because it wasn’t Mrs. Butterfield who stood in the door but her father.

She stood with a yelp, her mug falling to the floor. “Father.”

“Did I frighten you?” he sneered.

“No. But I am surprised,” she answered, taking a step back. “What are you doing here? Where is Mrs. Butterfield?”

His gaze slid to the side, just outside the door, and cold fear slid down her spine. When his eyes returned to hers, they held a mean, hard glint. “I’m your father. Aren’t I allowed to see my own flesh and blood?”

She smoothed her hands on her skirts, taking another step back, trying to control the fear building inside. “Of course. I just didn’t expect—"

“You were going to leave without saying goodbye.” He took two steps into the kitchen, closing the distance between them.

So that was how he was going to be. Accusing her of wrongdoing. Her spine straightened as her fists balled in her skirts. “You sold me like a sow at market.”

“To a viscount. A detail he conveniently left out.”

Her chin lifted. “Because you’d take advantage like you do with—” But she couldn’t finish as he grabbed her hair, yanking hard.

“You listen to me,” And then he gave her face a hard smack. Pain exploded along her cheekbone. “I kept a roof over