My Fair Viscount
(The Scandal Sheet Book 4)
Jess Michaels
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Epilogue
Also by Jess Michaels
About the Author
My Fair Viscount
The Scandal Sheet Book 4
Copyright © Jesse Petersen, 2019
ISBN: 9781947770157
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
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www.AuthorJessMichaels.com
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Dedication
To all those who felt like they had to change to fit in. And to all those who love us for who we are. Especially Michael, who lets me be me for better or for worse.
Chapter 1
Scandal most foul has hit Society due to the recent death of a certain viscount! It seems that while his heir, a beloved nephew, was making preparations to take the title, he discovered a shocking family secret. The bachelor viscount was, in fact, legally married years ago to an unaffiliated…well, lady may be too generous a title. And even more shocking, the viscount seems to also have a son, a true heir who will usurp the other in his position. This man will apparently be revealed when the Season begins in just a short few weeks. How this person will be accepted by good Society remains to be seen. But one cannot expect that such a man should be seen as an equal to those of rank. Not unless he proves himself.
David Shaw looked up from the paper that had been slammed down on the table before him and watched as his cousin Richard stormed across the breakfast room, hands waving as he shouted almost incoherently. He allowed for the commotion for a moment before he lifted a hand.
“Cor, Richard, you’re givin’ my head a spin,” he said as he shook his head with a chuckle that made his recently discovered cousin’s cheeks darken with even more angry color. “Why are you shoutin’ the house down?”
Richard pointed at the paper with an accusatory finger that shook with his upset. “You read that rag, didn’t you? They may not use names, but everyone will know that it’s about your father, about me, about you.”
David shrugged. “So?”
Richard blinked. “The paper all but explicitly said that you are not to be accepted into Good Society, my lord.”
David flinched at the use of the title he hadn’t asked for. The trouble that came with it almost wasn’t worth the blunt it brought to his pockets. To his mother’s life. Almost.
He rose from the table with another shrug. “Hate to remind you, mate, but you’re the one who found me. You coulda just hid the proof and taken the spoils.”
Richard’s brow wrinkled and the confusion on his face almost made David laugh. He was such a gentleman, his cousin. Not just in words or title, but in deeds. David hadn’t known many of those in his life. Those he had, he’d often duped. Now he felt a little guilty at that, for his cousin wasn’t the nob he’d believed those of the ton to all be. Naïve about the real world, yes. Nob? No.
“I would not want something that was not mine,” Richard said with a shake of his head.
David did laugh this time. “Ah, so you don’t want it and you pass your shit to me.”
Richard looked frustrated for a moment, but then he sat down hard in the seat across from David. He rubbed his eyes for a moment before he said, “It’s your birthright, Shaw…David. Your father—”
David stiffened. “My father was a bounder who didn’t give a fuck about me or my mother. He didn’t want me to have his name or his fancy title.”
Richard bent his head and seemed uncomfortable with the outburst of emotion from his cousin. “Yes, well…you earned it nonetheless.”
“You earn somethin’ by work,” David snapped. “Not by a fop loosin’ his seed in a woman and gettin’ tricked into marryin’ her when he’s drunk off his head.”
Richard paled. “Dear God, Shaw, you aren’t going to say that to anyone outside of me, are you?”
David smiled at the thought. “That’d set those nobs on their heels. Never heard such blunt truths from a viscount before. I’ll have them faintin’ behind their fans before the end of the first rout.”
“David!” Richard all but shouted. “You will be obliterated if you act that way.”
David shoved the paper at Richard. “Looks like I already will be, mate. I swear, cousin, if you hadn’t promised me riches beyond my imagining for taking this ‘birthright,’ I woulda told you to stick it in your arse.”
Richard leaned forward and set his head on the edge of the table, and David was certain his cousin was whispering some kind of prayer before he sat up straight again and glared at David.
“They’ll be looking for you to fail,” he said through obviously clenched teeth. “They’ll be salivating for it. And if you fail, the title will suffer for it. I know you think little of your father, I even understand why considering the circumstances of your upbringing. But I…I loved him.”
Richard paused and cleared his throat, and David could see that was true. He felt a wild stab of jealousy at the relationship his estranged father and his cousin had clearly shared. He pushed it away, just as he did all thoughts of the man who had created and abandoned him and his mother. Leaving them both to a life of pain, heartache and poverty.
Those things had made him the man he was. He had no regrets.
“I want to see you make a go of it,” Richard continued softly. “For the sake of my family name and for your own. And so I have come up with a solution.”
David wrinkled his brow at the hesitant tone of his last statement. “Drownin’ me in the Thames, are you? If you want to get rid of me, do it near Devil’s Acre,” he teased. “Less chance anyone will give a damn.”
Richard shut his eyes briefly. “Don’t think I haven’t considered it,” he said at last.
David let out a whoop of pleasure at the dry humor he had coaxed from his stuffy cousin. “Have it out then—what do you want to do?”
Richard opened one eye and looked worried. “Well, my dear cousin, it isn’t exactly murder. But I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
All David’s humor faded at the look on Richard’s face. “Why?”
“Well, first it requires us to leave London…”
Miss Rose Higgins stood in a parlor on a tiny estate just a day’s travel from London. It was a fine place, she granted it that. Expensively appointed, but tasteful and understated in its elegance. She paced to the mantel and swiped a finger there. When she drew it back, there was no dust to mar the tip.
Everything around her spoke of the home of a gentleman. Which meant she should have had an inkling of who had so surreptitiously called for her to come here just a week before. It was her job, after all, to know those sorts of things. She had Debrett’s practically memorized.
And yet the place was not recognizable. There were no portraits on the walls or family seals or crests to identify the person who had aske
d for this meeting.
She frowned. That meant this might be a hideaway for the illegitimate family of a man of power. In fact, she would almost bet her fee on it.
She had worked with people like that before, readying their daughters for the almost insurmountable obstacle of trying to enter a Society that looked down on anyone who wasn’t born and bred properly. She didn’t like doing it. Not because she saw those girls as less—no, she was in no place to judge.
Mostly because the outcomes, no matter how perfectly she prepared them, were often difficult. How many girls had she comforted as they lamented the lack of acceptance?
Still, if the fee was high enough, she could not outright refuse to help. A school of deportment was not an inexpensive thing, and the fees she was paid only just covered her expenses.
The door behind her opened and she pivoted, pushing the thoughts out of her mind as a tall, wiry, rather handsome man entered the room. His dark eyes flitted over her a moment as he came forward, hand outstretched.
“Miss Higgins, thank you for coming,” he said. “I am Richard Shaw.”
She bobbed out a nod and hoped her shock at her host was not too obvious on her face. “Richard Shaw,” she repeated. “As in Viscount Shaw?”
She watched a little color bleed out of the man’s cheeks and her answer was clear before he spoke again. He backed away a step. “May I get you something? Were you offered tea?”
She frowned at the avoidance of her question and said, “No, thank you. I was offered refreshment, but I don’t require it.”
He sighed, as if hoping the act of calling for tea would give him a moment to gather himself. A moment she had now denied him. He motioned to the chairs before the fire and as she sat, he did the same.
“To answer your question,” he said. “Yes. Viscount Shaw was my uncle.”
Although Rose was careful not to allow her reaction to move to her face, inside she lurched. Everyone knew the scandal surrounding the recently deceased Viscount Shaw. His secret marriage to a woman some had whispered was a lightskirt, and the subsequent secret heir who had been uncovered, had been the talk of all the families with daughters in her tutelage.
She smiled at him, hoping to ease some of the discomfort on his face. “Perhaps I shall have that tea after all.”
Relief flowed over his features and he rushed to his feet. “Of course.”
She watched as he rang for the servant and arranged for the refreshments to be brought. This man moved and spoke and behaved like a viscount should. He had been in line to take that role until he, himself, revealed the truth about his uncle’s true heir.
Not a handful of men in the Society she worked for would have done the same. Most would have burned the evidence and simply picked up the title without a second thought to line or birthright or inheritance.
It made her wonder about Richard Shaw. And his cousin.
As a maid set the tea service on the sideboard, Shaw returned to his seat. They were both served a cup and then the servant departed. The time seemed to have relaxed her companion, for Mr. Shaw smiled at her slightly.
“I assume you know the facts of the case,” he said.
She nodded. “The rumors, at least. That you discovered your uncle had a legitimate son from a secret marriage.”
“Yes,” he said softly. “I was shocked, of course. My uncle and I were close, and he had never once spoken to me about his wife or his child. When I found the records, I almost had no idea how to react.”
“But you responded by finding the man and submitting the proof so that he could take the role rather than you,” she said.
He nodded. “It was the right thing to do.”
She was quiet a moment. Right was not always the thing people considered, especially when it came to their own interests.
“So we both know the circumstances you are in,” she said softly. “And you called me here, but I’m not exactly certain as to why.”
Shaw shifted. “If you know some of the rumors, I assume you know the rest. My cousin comes to me without the benefit of much formal education, though he is bright and can read. He is…rough, though. Untrained and…uncouth.”
Something about the way he said the last made Rose think that this man was a little more than uncouth.
“You are recommended to me as the best teacher of comportment in all of London,” Shaw continued.
Her mouth dropped open as what he was leading to became clear. “Mr. Shaw, let me stop you,” she said. “If you have brought me here to…to teach this man in matters of conduct, I cannot do so.”
He blinked. “But why?”
The desperation that suddenly laced his tone did nothing to ease Rose’s concerns about the matter. If anything, her anxiety ratcheted up a notch.
“I work with young ladies, Mr. Shaw,” she said.
“Yes, I know,” he said. “And you come with the best of references, the highest of recommendations. Please, won’t you hear me out? You’ve come all this way.”
Rose hesitated. What she should do was get up, thank the man for his time and leave. After all, she had no intention of taking on the project of teaching some oaf how to hold a dinner spoon and talk without grunting. But the fact was that Shaw’s praise of her did give her some hope that her life was on the right trajectory.
And she was as curious about the new viscount as all of London seemed to be. Having a little kernel of knowledge about him could be useful. Or at least entertaining.
“Of course,” she said. “As long as you are not under the impression that I will change my mind about working with him.”
Shaw leaned forward in the chair. “As I said, he is very bright. It is not a lost cause by any means. He is rough, for he was raised under difficult circumstances and never knew the life he will now try to inhabit.”
She pursed her lips. She could imagine how difficult that would be for a man like that. “Is he open to this kind of teaching?” she asked.
The brief expression that flashed over Shaw’s face gave her answer, but of course he nodded. “Oh yes. I think he would like this to be a success.”
She arched a brow and he turned his face as his cheeks brightened. “Miss Higgins, I would ask that you teach him the same kind of things as you would a young lady in your care. Manners, dance, correct address…he could use some softening of the edges of his language, as well.”
She stared in shocked silence. He made the man seem like a shapeless lump of clay who would need to be completely molded under her watchful eye. That was very different from her normal duties. The young ladies she worked with always had some training—her part was to tweak, not to create.
“As you know,” Shaw continued, “we only have a few weeks until the new Season begins. And he will be expected to take part in the launch of the festivities, otherwise the talk about him will only become louder and harder to manage.”
“I agree,” she said softly. “The longer he goes without entering Society, the harder it will be for him to ever do so.”
“Then you know why a very intensive focus on him is needed,” Shaw said. “You would stay here with him. With as few servants as possible to keep this matter private.”
She leapt to her feet. “Here! Alone with this man?”
“I realize it isn’t a normal request,” Shaw said. “But this situation is anything but ordinary.”
She let out her breath in a short huff. “Mr. Shaw, I appreciate the situation you find yourself in, and I think the fact that you want to help you cousin is admirable to the highest degree. However, what you require is not right. I teach young ladies the dangers of just what you are asking me to do.” She backed toward the door. “I hope you can find someone to help you, I truly do. But it cannot be me.”
She pivoted to leave and heard Shaw rise from his seat. “I would pay you two thousand pounds.”
She froze as the words hung in the air between them, loud and sharp as a gunshot. Slowly she turned to stare at him. “I could not have heard you c
orrectly.”
“You did,” he said, stepping closer. “Two thousand pounds for a few weeks’ work. One thousand deposited into your account now. Five hundred if I see some improvement in him when I come to check on you in two weeks. Another five if he can make it through his first event without being…booed out of Society.”
She blinked. Those weren’t even lofty goals, especially if the man was as bright as his cousin kept saying he was. Of course, he would have to be motivated to change. But still, even if he didn’t change at all, a thousand pounds was enough for a person to live on all year.
Enough to build herself a little more and attract even more students to her endeavor. Enough to have some stability that she had longed for.
She worried her lip. Shaw was trying to make this an offer she couldn’t refuse. That was a little frightening. Perhaps his desperation had to do with the limited time they had left before all eyes would turn on the new viscount.
Perhaps there was more to it.
She needed to find out.
She cleared her throat and stepped toward him. “May I meet the viscount?”
Chapter 2
David stood at the window, staring off into the garden behind the house. It was very pretty—no one could say otherwise. Perfectly manicured, perfectly maintained, kind of like everything else in this house. Everything but himself.
And right now his cousin was negotiating to bring in someone to change that. David rolled his eyes. “What the hell was I thinking?”
Only he already knew the answer to that query: money. That was what had driven him here, just it had driven him to most decisions, good and bad, in his thirty years on this earth. Thanks to the very man whose place he would be taking.
My Fair Viscount: (The Scandal Sheet Book 4) Page 1
