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barbaric.” Iona’s hold on May’s arm tightened. Whenever matters became sticky, Iona would cling to the nearest female object. May rather appreciated the close contact.
    “I don’t have many options. Uncle Sires has made quite certain of that by taking my parents’ money away. He did relent and agree to pay the past three months’ rent to the viscount, claiming it was the only proper thing to do.”
    May had lain awake in bed the night before, trying to think of another course of action. Although overdue rents would be paid, Uncle Sires had been most adamant about not paying any future bills. A woman without a shilling to her name didn’t have many options.
    “I could seek a position as a lady’s companion or governess if I can convince Aunt Winnie to go against her brother’s wishes and provide me with a reference.”
    “Oh no, you mustn’t do that!” Iona squeezed May’s arm so tightly May’s fingers turned numb. “You mustn’t take a position or marry or do anything rash that will take you away from me! Perhaps Papa—”
    A burgundy-smooth voice interrupted. “I beg your pardon, ladies.”
    Iona was the first to turn to greet the speaker. “My lord.” A graceful smile froze on her lips. A deep red blush spread all the way up to the roots of her hair.
    Disquieted by her friend’s reaction, May turned around. “My lord,” she gasped.
    Viscount Evers looked as fierce as the devil, dressed in a black high-collared, cut-away short coat. His cream vest wasn’t fully buttoned, a common style among the wildest rakes. His tan trousers were loose-fitted, casual. His sharp features and jade-colored gaze bore down on her in a most oppressive manner. Why ever would he address her—here—in public? Would he call her out for yesterday’s shocking behavior?
    May took a step back, as if retreat could stave off trouble. It wasn’t so much herself she was worried about. Her life was nothing—meaningless. Iona, dear precious, always proper Iona, would be in a world of trouble if her father, the duke, ever learned about their most improper unescorted visit to the viscount’s home. “Please, my lord,” May said, lowering her voice. She was prepared to play the part of withering female and eat a king’s portion of humble pie to safeguard her friend’s reputation.
    She didn’t get the chance.
    As if trying to prove her uncle’s belief that there was something innately unacceptable about her, her foot slipped. A small puddle of water spilt by some careless drinker made the marble floor under May’s feet slick. Her foot shot out from under her and before she could catch herself, the toe of her slipper became entangled within the folds of her gown’s long skirt. May pitched forward and fully expected to humiliate herself in front of the utterly grim Viscount Evers.
    Time slowed. She watched as he stepped forward and spread his arms like a lover greeting some long lost key to his heart. He caught her, his gloved hands curling delightfully around her shoulders in an attempt to save her.
    He teetered, his fingers digging into her skin as he struggled to gain his faltering balance. His injured leg could barely support his own weight much less hold up against a clumsy cow such as herself. How nobly stupid of him to rush to her rescue.
    Not until that moment did May realize he wasn’t very tall. He was much taller than most women, yes. But he didn’t tower over her like some men, which at the moment was probably a very good thing. Many a time her aunt had swayed, just as the viscount swayed now—a fall imminent. She had never allowed her aunt to fall, and since the viscount was so doggedly determined to save her, May planted her feet and used her strength to help steady him.
    “Bloody hell.” His jade gaze simmered with anger once they had both found a solid footing. He released her arms and took a hasty step backward. His jaw tightened as he gritted his teeth and fought gravity’s pull on his injured