Read Winning the Viscount’s heart (Regency Romance) (Regency Lords Book 2) Online
Authors: Regina Darcy
2 Weeks Later
Emmeline was feeling quite overwhelmed with everything that had happened. The events of the past few weeks felt like something out of a bad dream or nightmare.
She was walking with Lord Blackwood in the garden behind her home, discussing his latest discovery of the Count de Coligny’s motivation to harm her and her family.
“As it turns out,” Lord Blackwood explained, “my contacts have found out a fair bit about the Count de Coligny’s background. His father and your grandfather had been in business together. When the business failed, they lost a lot of money.
Your grandfather was a rather intelligent man and had many other investments, but the Count’s father had not been so shrewd, and he lost a lot more than your family did. He did not take this well. He blamed your grandfather for taking away his family’s wealth and decreasing it significantly, and he fed this poison to the Count. This was what he was trying to avenge. Something that, frankly, did not deserve to be avenged at all.”
“What an awful man,” Emmeline said. “I can’t believe that I fell into his trap. I feel like such a dimwit. I am so utterly embarrassed.”
“You have no reason to be,” Lord Blackwood replied. “He is a very manipulative man; he has a way of making people see him the way he wants them to see him. I am just grateful we arrived in time.”
“How did you even find us?” Emmeline asked.
“We went to the Count’s estate, assuming that was where you were most likely to go. Upon reaching his residence, we discovered from the manservant that he had left just recently. I remembered that he had spoken of getting married in Gretna Green. Hence, your father and I started to ride in that direction at once.”
Emmeline stopped walking and looked at Lord Blackwood.
Ever since her near ruin, she could not converse with any man besides her brother and father. Behind each face all she saw was deceit. Her nerves had been in tatters. All that time though, Lord Blackwood had been at her side. Visiting her every day until she regained her spirits.
She appreciated his silent strength and pleasant disposition.
“Lord Blackwood,” Emmeline said. “I cannot thank you enough for all that you have done for me. You were always there; you were always trying to protect me. Even when you had no reason to, you chose to protect me. I am sorry for treating you so horribly when you only had my best interest in mind. Will you forgive me?”
“There is nothing to forgive, Miss Knight,” Lord Blackwood replied. “And I would not be so presumptuous as to think that now I shall be the recipient of your affection. I assure you, what you are feeling right now is gratitude.”
“I beg to differ,” Emmeline replied passionately. “I have never been more certain where my true feelings lie.”
Lord Blackwood looked at her, and Emmeline realized this was the look that she had been waiting for all her life. This was the look of a man who truly loved you.
And in that moment, Lord Blackwood was hard pressed to resist the enchanting sight of Miss Emmeline Blackwood. The feelings she had so cruelly rejected surfaced like a tidal wave. He decided to behave with uncharacteristic boldness; he kissed her softly on the lips.
It was the sweetest thing that Emmeline had ever experienced.
The following year turned out to be a rather eventful one. Before anyone could approach the Count and seek an explanation for his behaviour and retribution for what he had tried to do, he returned to France where the privilege of his station would protect him for the remainder of his life. His plot was foiled, however, and that was what mattered.
Emmeline and Lord Blackwood were married within months of realizing their mutual feelings of attraction and admiration. It was a wonderful marriage, and all of their friends and family were in attendance. Emmeline was quite glad that she hadn’t eloped, for she realized that a wedding is meant to be a happy affair. An event where you celebrate eternal love with all of the people that you care about. It is not meant to be something that is done in secret, or approach in a hasty manner.
The year was not all happiness and cheer, however. Lord Blackwood’s father died shortly after the wedding. His health had been failing for quite some time, and after seeing his son happily married he finally found the courage to move on. It was a sad occasion.
Lord Blackwood became the Earl of Dingby, a full member of the peerage. He was afforded a number of privileges that had not been available to him before, and his and Emmeline’s social status was increased dramatically as a result.
The year was filled with much happiness, so the sad demise of Lord Blackwood’s father did not spoil the mood all that much, particularly since his declining health had lead most people to expect it to happen at any moment.
Emmeline remained glad that she had seen sense and opened her heart to seeing the good qualities of Lord Blackwood. She realized that after all this time, she was going to be able to be with a man that truly loved her for who she was, someone that would not harm her or force her to do anything that she did not want.
Sometimes she wondered what would have happened if she had not been saved. The Count would have ruined her, and she would have become unmarriageable. But this was not what happened, and she put such thoughts out of her mind whenever they came about.
Instead, she thought of the future. She thought of children, and the prospect of watching them grow. She thought of her children getting married, and them having children of their own. And she thought of the joyous fact that throughout all of these moments, she would have Lord Blackwood by her side, the man she had always been meant to love but had simply been to childish to realize it.
And so, in a way, her near catastrophe with the Count had been a good thing in a way. It had forced her to grow up a little and see the world in a different way. It had been part of the road that had led her to the man that truly was of her dreams, and as a result she was glad that it had happened, and she regretted nothing at all.
The End
Lord Nathaniel Hughes, the Viscount of Wiltshire was bored. Ever since his close friend, the Duke of Staffordshire had tied the knot with the beautiful Miss Georgette Danford, he had been questioning his own bachelor status. The loving bliss the couple exuded had him longing for something other than his current, temporary liaisons with married women. He was by no means looking for a love match, far from it. However, the issue of an heir was of outmost importance. The only problem with his new, inexplicable, yearning was that he did not trust women at all.
Anything else would have been unusual; after all, he had witnessed the treacherous nature of a woman first-hand.
Now, Nathaniel was not prone to the incessant musings that afflicted many a gentlemen of his advanced age. That said, at the grand age of 28, surrounded by many a gentlemen who were already married, he was hard pressed to ignore the need to father a legitimate heir. This was one of the reasons he was now languishing in the Gloucestershire countryside. Bored to tears in London, he decided to visit his cousin at Langdon Manor. He had the misfortune to have agreed to stay for three whole weeks, when he had first arrived.
After spending two weeks in the company of his nieces, he was happy to notice he had somewhat regained his senses. As he suspected, the delightful little monsters had been exactly what the doctor ordered. Five more days of
Uncle Nathaniel this, Uncle Nathaniel that
and he could rush back to London and freedom.
Luckily, his boredom had been cut short as his dear friend Alden Haddington, the Earl of Beckton had come calling. They had known each other for several years. Both had served in the same regiment under the Duke of Staffordshire.
Alden had particular strong, disapproving views on Nicholas’s string of mistresses. The irony was that the Earl was known to have left an equal trail of heartbroken beauties behind him. The only difference being, he had never touched them.
Alden was currently an esteemed Member of Parliament. Although he was certainly very vocal in the House of Lords, Nathaniel was one of the few people who knew Alden found the challenge of conversing with the fairer sex, insurmountable. He had yet to finish a sensible conversation with any eligible young woman he had actual designs on. Half the broken hearts he left behind him were due to disinterest, and the rest due to an inability to approach the ladies in question.
It was a longstanding joke between them, that at this rate he would die never having known a woman. However, despite their markedly different dispositions, his friendship with Nathaniel had remained strong over the years.
“Nathaniel, are you listening?” the Earl queried bemused. “I see you are studiously avoiding the topic,” he continued as he climbed on to his horse.
“What topic would that be?” Nathaniel replied, puzzled at the sudden line of questioning. His thoughts where elsewhere.
“That of your self-imposed loneliness.”
“Loneliness? That’s a bit harsh, my dear fellow.”
“Pray tell, what would you call burying yourself in the countryside?” Alden asked with a raised eyebrow. Nathaniel shrugged.
“Well, I am of the opinion that your loneliness would swiftly be solved by a matrimonial arrangement,” Alden continued dryly.
“Good Grace! I am not yet at my deathbed to be sentenced to such domestic hell,” the Nathaniel exclaimed, “An incidental marriage is not something I aspire for in any near future.”
The Viscount had no wish for Alden to get a whiff of the fact that he had very much been reconsidering his bachelor status for the last couple of weeks. Once the Earl fixated on an idea he didn’t let it be. Whilst this was useful in Parliament, it was highly annoying to his friends. Nathaniel had no intention of becoming his next pet project.
The Earl laughed, then grew silent and said quietly:
“How much longer are you going to let her treachery dictate your life?” His question was followed by a pregnant silence.
“I do not know what you are referring to,” Nathaniel replied, squirming in his saddle.
Alden seemed to sense his rising discomfort, and let that particular matter drop by changing the subject. “Sooner or later you will have to produce an heir,” he said instead. “You know as well as I do your cousin Albert is not the right man to wear your coronet with dignity.”
Nathaniel laughed aloud. His cousin Albert was fat, bald and mostly intolerable. He turned in his saddle to face his friend. “Any woman I would marry would find me insufferable and swiftly be plotting my murder.”
“Beget you heir first,” Alden replied with mirth, “then you can see how long it takes for one of you to throw the other in the lake.” Both men chuckled ruefully. “Right, I best be on my way. I am due in London in a week,” the Earl, exclaimed.
“Rushing off? Do not tell me it is the lovely Phoebe Alexander that is your urgent business,” Nathaniel replied with a knowing smirk. “When are you going to get the courage to tell her, she has stolen your heart?”
“Right after you get married and produce an heir, old chap,” Alden retorted without missing a beat.
“So never then?”
The Earl laughed, bid his friend goodbye and set his horse to a gallop across the manor drive and on to the road towards London.
Nathaniel watched him race on with a wistful smile. He was loath to turn back towards the house. On an impulse, he decided to explore the surrounding landscape instead. This would be a great opportunity to take a break from his nieces. He urged his horse into a trot and was soon deep into the Gloucestershire countryside. The peace of his surroundings, was surprisingly working wonders on his nerves. As he reached the outskirts of the Crown Forest of Dean, he dismounted, tied his horse and continued on foot.
He thought of Lady Anne Smithey, the most treacherous woman he had ever met. An incomparable beauty. Her skin flawlessly pale, her
visage
a vision of innocence and her heart as dark as charcoal.
It had been five years and still the invisible wound she had inflicted upon him had not yet healed. He knew full well that his reputation as a lover, was only gained after Lady Anne crushed his young heart. He had set out to conquer every beauty, learn every trick, so as to never be at the mercy of a woman again. And he had succeeded. He had vast experience of women and his expertise had gained him the reputation of the best lover in London. Nathaniel took a deep breath.
Why am I so restless?
Irritated he walked past a configuration of trees and then stopped dead in his track. Somewhere a woman was singing.
Intrigued he parted the bushed and walked into a clearing. In front of the clearing, there was a small lake and on the other side was a woman. She was blissfully unaware that she was being watched. With her eyes closed, she sang her heart out. It was Sir. Thomas Moore’s
The
Last Rose of Summer
. She wasn’t the best songstress he had ever heard, but her voice vibrated with the joy and innocence of youth.
Bewitched, the Viscount slowly dropped to his knees, tucked his legs underneath him and drank in the scene before him.
'Tis the last rose of summer,
Left blooming alone;
All her lovely companions
Are faded and gone;
No flower of her kindred,
No rosebud is nigh,
To reflect back her blushes,
Or give sigh for sigh.
I'll not leave thee, thou lone one!
To pine on the stem;
Since the lovely are sleeping,
Go, sleep thou with them.
Thus kindly I scatter,
Thy leaves o'er the bed,
Where thy mates of the garden
Lie scentless and dead.’
As she sang the last word, she seemed to feel that she was being watched and turned around. Time stopped. Nathaniel was transfixed.
Hers was not a classical beauty; her features were too strong for that. But, fire burned fiercely in her eyes. Her softly curved lips looked like they were made to be kissed.
The young woman looked startled and made to dash off. Hurriedly, Nathaniel rose and stretched out his hand besieging.
“Wait!” She stopped dead in her tracks. Slowly she turned around and looked at him. Her eyes were bright with curiosity.
“Surely you would not run away from a man separated from you by a stream?” he asked soothingly. The mischievous lady smiled, and he felt his heart turn.
Not again
.
“Only if such a man is not a
gentleman
,” she replied.
“And what makes you think I am not a gentleman?” he asked with a roguish smile. “Although I must admit you are as beautiful as any English rose.”
The young lady blushed. Then she bit her lower lip and responded, “No gentleman would so brazenly spy on a lady. No Sir, you are no
gentleman,
so I bid you goodbye.”
Before he could react, the young lady had turned around and dashed through the woodland. There was no way he would be able to catch up to her. Stunned, Nathaniel sat back down, his heart racing.
He had no wish to follow the lady. He had been through this before, five years ago. He was NOT going to go through this again. On the morrow he was leaving for London. With gritted teeth and steely determination, the Viscount of Wiltshire, rose and went in search of his horse. But despite denying it to himself, he was fighting a losing battle. His heart had already been conquered.