“Go home!” she hissed. “You’re making a frightful ass out of yourself.”
“Brought it on yourself, miss,” Putley crowed somewhere behind Lord Hope.
“Do shut up, Putley!” Beatrice cried, and then squeaked because Lord Hope had eliminated her barrier by simply picking her up and moving her to the side. “Oh, don’t!”
But it was too late. He’d opened the door, barged into the room, and then stopped dead, blocking her view.
She heard a breathless laugh from Jeremy. “Lord Hope, I presume?”
“Goddamn,” the viscount said.
“Oh, get out of the way!” Beatrice shoved hard at his great big stupid back.
He moved obligingly to the side.
She hurried past him. “Jeremy, are you all right?”
“Quite all right,” he said, his color high and hectic. “Haven’t had this much excitement in years.”
“And it isn’t good for you.” She took his hand and turned to glare at Lord Hope, still standing by the door. The man didn’t even have the grace to look embarrassed. “What do you think you’re doing here?”
“I told you”—he casually kicked the door closed behind him—“discovering you in a lover’s nest. It seems I might be mistaken.”
“Might be?” She balled her free hand and set it on her hip. “You’ve been a complete and utter idiot and have insulted both me and Jeremy. Obviously we aren’t lovers—”
“There’s nothing obvious about it,” he growled, eyeing the remains of Jeremy’s legs beneath the covers. “I’ve known men who’ve lost their legs but not their—”
“Don’t be disgusting!” She was shouting now, but it was completely out of her control. How dare he? What kind of woman did he think her? He’d humiliated her!
Behind her, Jeremy was making choking sounds, and she turned swiftly, alarmed.
He was trying to hold back big belly laughs and not succeeding very well.
“Oh, not you, too,” she said, thoroughly exasperated, even as she poured him a glass of water.
“Thank you, dear,” Jeremy said. “And I’m sorry. At this moment, I feel that I should apologize for my entire sex.”
“You should,” she grumbled. “You’re rotten to the core, all of you.”
“Yes, I know,” he said humbly. “You’re simply a saint to put up with us at all. But I have a boon to ask of you, dearest.”
“What is it?” she asked, not very graciously.
“Would you mind terribly going and seeing to Putley’s ruffled feathers? I know it’s a tiresome chore, but I’d rather not have him tattling to my parents about this matter.”
“Oh, all right.” She glared at Lord Hope. “But I’ll have to leave you here with him.”
“I know.” Jeremy adopted an angelic expression that didn’t fool her for a moment. “I’d rather hoped to have a chat with the viscount.”
“Humph,” she said. She stepped up to Lord Hope until they were nearly chin to chin—although she had to tilt hers quite far up—and poked him in the chest with her forefinger.
“Ow,” said Lord Hope.
“If you lay a single finger on him,” she hissed into his face, “or overexcite him in any way, I’ll tear that silly earring right out of your ear.”
Behind her, Jeremy went into peals of laughter, but she didn’t bother glancing at him again. She slammed the door behind her and stomped off in search of Putley.
Men!