Falling for the Mysterious Viscount: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  Walter stared at him hard. “I simply cannot believe that you want to run back to Nottinghamshire like a chastened dog with its tail between its legs.”

  “What?”

  “You heard me, old chap,” continued Walter, in a hard voice. “You are being cowardly in wanting to run away from what has happened here.”

  Samuel blinked, in surprise. “You think me a coward?”

  “I know that you are not a coward,” said Walter slowly. “I know that you are steadfast and can face the consequences of your actions. Running away to Nottinghamshire, to try to forget what has happened here, is out of character for you, Samuel. The Viscount Pemberton that I know would stay and fight, even if the battle is long and hard.”

  Samuel was silent. He picked up his drink, taking a deep sip. Was Walter right? Should he stay and fight for Lavinia, even though she said she never wanted to see him again, even though it seemed that all hope was lost?

  “I was the one who suggested the charade,” continued Walter. “I am as much to blame as you are. And I am willing to stay here, for the season, and help you make amends to her.” His voice wavered slightly. “I know that there is little hope for me with Sophie, now, but that is of minor consequence. The chance that she would ever have accepted me as a serious suitor was always slim …”

  Samuel gazed at his friend. He had been so self-absorbed, mourning what had happened between him and Lavinia, that he had almost entirely forgotten that the scene at the picnic had dashed all of his friend’s hopes with the elder Miss Beaumont, as well.

  If he retreated to Nottinghamshire, licking his wounds, the admittedly slim chance that his friend had with Sophie would be dashed, as well. He knew Walter. He knew that his friend would not stay on in London for the season if he left. His friend needed him.

  He took a deep breath, thinking it through. It would be torture, going to social events, and seeing Lavinia, now. He could try to speak to her, and keep apologising, but he knew how angry and hurt she was. In the immediate future, at least, she would try to ignore him.

  But would she stay that way forever? Could he convince her, once her blood had cooled, that he was genuine? She had admitted that she had loved him, after all. That she had fallen in love with Samuel Hunter. That love was still there, deep down. Could he rekindle it?

  He took a deep breath. He must try. Even if Lavinia never spoke to him again, and all hope was lost, he must stay on in London for Walter as well. His friend was in love with Sophie, and Lavinia had told them both that her sister regarded him fondly. She just needed to be persuaded to trust her feelings. And Walter needed to get the chance to try to persuade her.

  “Where there is life, there is hope,” said Samuel, gazing at his friend. “You have just told me not to give up on Lavinia, and so now I must give your own advice back to you, my friend. You need to not give up on Sophie, either.”

  Walter looked surprised. “You really think that I might have a chance with her? After everything that has happened?” He looked doubtful. “She was never predisposed to accept a man such as myself, and she was furious with me, so very hurt, on behalf of her sister …”

  “She was,” said Samuel. “Could you expect her to be anything else, in the circumstances? Would you want her to be anything else? It shows her true character. A woman deeply loyal, and protective, of her sister.”

  Walter was silent as he digested this.

  “She is not a frivolous scatterbrain, Walter,” continued Samuel, “despite the fact that on the surface she appears to be a gold digger. Your instincts about her are correct. She is a woman of exceptional character, who has chosen to ignore the better part of herself in the face of societal expectations. You just need to persuade her to trust the woman that she truly is.”

  Walter stared at him. He looked a little stunned.

  “We will stay on in London, then?” His voice was shaking a little. “We will both commit to trying to change the minds of the Beaumont sisters, however unlikely that possibility might be?”

  Samuel took a deep breath. “Yes, my friend. I am game, if you are.”

  Walter grinned suddenly. He picked up his slightly warm mug of ale, holding it high in the air.

  “Let us drink to it then,” he said. “Let us drink to the Beaumont sisters, and going into battle. Come what may.”

  “Come what may,” echoed Samuel, holding his own drink high.

  ***

  That night, as he tried in vain to get to sleep on the narrow, hard bed, he couldn’t stop replaying the events of the day, over and over in his mind.

  He had been so close.

  He had been so very close to admitting to her who he really was before they had been interrupted. He had been so very close to telling her all that was in his heart. And even though he knew that she might not have accepted him anyway and reacted in exactly the same way that she had, he also knew that there was a stronger chance he could have persuaded her that he was, indeed, genuine.

  He sighed deeply, twisting and turning on the bed, from side to side. It was only his word, now, that he had even been going to reveal himself to her. She probably thought that he was lying about that, as well. That he was trying desperately to squirm out of it, to make himself appear better, in her eyes.

  He sat up in the bed, leaning back against the cold wrought iron railing, staring out the window at the night.

  He deserved everything that had happened. He knew that. He could have told her at any point, who he truly was, and he had not. He had been a coward, hoping that it would not be necessary, that he could move on from her without a backward glance.

  Shame twisted deep inside like a knife. He almost welcomed it as punishment.

  And now, through his thoughtlessness and cowardice, he was in danger of losing the only woman that he had ever loved. The only woman that he could ever love. Because he knew now that he would never feel this way again. It was as if she had burnt herself on his very soul.

  He had tried to fight it. He had tried to tell himself that it was only a passing fancy, a temporary admiration. He had experienced many in his life, after all. A whole bevy of beautiful young ladies, who he had flirted and courted before. But he had never felt this deeply about any of them.

  They had flitted in and out of his life, like butterflies on the wind, insubstantial. Once they had drifted away, he had never given them another thought. He had known that most of them didn’t care for him, anyway. They only ever pursued him for his title and wealth.

  But she had been different. A fierce, passionate woman, who believed that character was more important in a man than privilege. A woman who defied societal expectations of how a young lady should think and behave.

  She was one in a million.

  Lavinia. She who must be loved.

  Chapter 18

  Lavinia desultorily picked up her spoon, plunging it haphazardly into the blancmange pudding, staring into the mixture with an intense gaze.

  “Lavinia,” her mother sighed, in an irritated way. “You really should not play with your food!”

  She straightened slightly, staring at her mother, across the dinner table. “I am sorry, Mama …”

  “What is wrong with you, Liv?” asked her father sharply. “You barely ate your dinner, either. You are away with the fairies, even more than you normally are!”

  Lavinia gazed at Sophie pleadingly.

  “I think that Liv had too much sun today,” said her sister quickly. “It was rather bright, at the picnic. That was the reason that we left it as quickly as we did …”

  Lady Beaumont rolled her eyes. “What a storm in a teacup that was!” She turned to her husband. “I was enjoying a perfectly lovely conversation with Mrs Elliot, who I have not seen in an age, when Sophia interrupted us, saying that Lavinia was in the carriage and that we had to leave immediately. That she was suffering from too much sun and could not wait even long enough to take her leave formally with our hosts …”

  Lavinia closed her eyes for a mome
nt.

  “Too much sun?” barked Lord Beaumont, staring at his younger daughter. “That is unlike you, Lavinia. You usually greatly enjoy outdoor picnics.”

  Lavinia shrugged helplessly. “Not today, Papa. I do not know what came over me …”

  Lady Beaumont put down her dessert spoon, leaning eagerly over the table, towards her husband. “We ran into Lord Livingston today, Peregrine! And he invited Sophia to play croquet with him!” Her smile faded a little. “But with our hasty departure, I am now unsure whether he might think us all flighty.”

  “Livingston, you say?” Lord Beaumont looked impressed. “He and the Prince Regent are as thick as thieves. There is talk that he might be offered the position of Lord Chancellor. You could do far worse than court that man, Sophie!”

  Sophie smiled weakly. “He seems perfectly amiable, Papa, but I think such talk is premature. I only just met him briefly, this afternoon, after all.”

  Lavinia stared at her sister. Usually Sophie needed little encouragement to flirt and engage with any of these fine lords and was eager to talk and strategize with their parents about a possible courtship. It was as telling a sign as any that she was not her usual self, at all. That today’s events at the picnic had shaken her to the core, as well.

  Her sister was changing, and she knew that it was because of Walter St Clair.

  She felt a sharp stab of guilt. What had happened today, between her and the newly revealed Viscount Pemberton, affected her sister as well. Sophie had rushed to her side like a mother tiger defending her cub, and Walter St Clair had borne the brunt of her sister’s anger as much as the Viscount Pemberton had. How was all of this going to affect whatever was blossoming between her sister and the landowner?

  She closed her eyes again. She had not had a moment to herself since they had returned from the picnic. In her desire not to reveal what had happened to her mother, she had not retreated to her room, as she had wanted to. Instead, she had sat in the parlour with them all, embroidering, as was their late afternoon habit.

  The effort to make everything appear normal was fraying her already shattered nerves. She had not had a chance to speak to Sophie privately about what had happened yet, either. And she wanted to, desperately. The need to debrief with her sister about what had occurred was almost overwhelming.

  With a sharp clatter, she put down her spoon, standing up.

  They all looked at her, astonished.

  “I am afraid all that sun today has given me a headache,” she said quickly. “That is why I have not had my usual appetite. Could I please be excused?”

  Her father nodded. “Of course you may, Lavinia.”

  Her mother frowned slightly. “I suppose if you need to rest, then you must. I think that we shall have to make sure you stay in the shade at these functions as much as possible, in future.”

  Sophie didn’t say anything. She merely gazed at her, a little sadly.

  Without another word, she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her with a deep sense of relief. She really couldn’t have stayed there, playing that charade, for a moment longer. She almost felt as duplicitous as the Viscount Pemberton, pretending to be someone, and something, that he was not.

  ***

  She had drifted off, into a troubled sleep, when she was awoken by a soft knock on her chamber door.

  She sat up, rubbing her eyes. “Who is it?”

  “It is just me, Liv,” said Sophie, through the door. “May I come in?”

  “Of course,” she called, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She felt slightly disoriented, almost woozy. What was the time? She didn’t even know.

  Her sister entered, still fully dressed, in her evening attire. It obviously wasn’t late enough that she had changed into her nightdress.

  “You were asleep,” said Sophie slowly, frowning. “I am sorry, that I disturbed you …”

  “Do not be silly,” she answered. “I want to talk to you. I need to talk to you …”

  Sophie sighed. “Yes, that is the reason that I came up. I stayed as long as possible, with our parents after dinner, so that they would not become suspicious.” She paused. “But I think that we must talk about what happened today before we both retire for the night.”

  “Sit beside me,” said Lavinia, patting the bed next to her.

  After Sophie had settled herself, they gazed at each other a little uncertainly. Sophie was the first to break the ice.

  “How are you feeling now?” she asked gently.

  Lavinia shrugged helplessly. “I hardly know. I feel that I am still in shock, like it is all just a dream, that I will surely awake from eventually …”

  Sophie took her hand, gripping it tightly. “I know, I feel exactly the same way,” she said. “It hardly seems possible that a man could have gone to so much trouble to conceal his true identity, or that someone could have even conceived such a plan and followed it through.”

  Lavinia fought back tears. “He was not the man I thought that he was,” she said, slowly. “I cannot believe that he fooled me so thoroughly. I thought that I was a good judge of character … but it rather seems that I am not, after all.”

  “At least you have found out his true character now,” said Sophie, squeezing her hand. “At least the deception did not go on any longer. You can recover from it. You will recover from it.” She paused. “You found out before it was too late.”

  Lavinia turned her face away towards the wall for a moment. She took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. Not to break down entirely, to weep horribly, with the injustice of it all.

  Sophie was right, of course. She had been so close to capitulating entirely to him; if he had proposed, that very afternoon, without revealing who he truly was, she would have said yes. She had fancied herself deeply in love with him and had no doubts that he was the only man for her.

  She shuddered. She had been so very close – so close, that it did not bear thinking about.

  Her thoughts turned to the lady, who had so shockingly revealed his true identity. The beautiful, slightly contemptuous Miss Emily Munro. She still could not quite believe how nasty the lady had been to her, almost glorying in her obvious discomfort at the revelation. Did Miss Munro have an agenda of her own? Did she have designs on the Viscount Pemberton?

  She shuddered again. What did she care if Miss Munro wanted to be the next Viscountess Pemberton? It had nothing to do with her anymore. Good luck to them, she thought, her heart quivering. They obviously deserved each other.

  With a deep breath, she turned back to her sister. Sophie was gazing at the other wall, a stricken expression on her face, which she quickly masked when she discerned Lavinia’s eyes on her again. She smiled, a little unsteadily.

  Lavinia felt another sharp stab of guilt. She wasn’t the only one who was suffering, and in pain, because of this awful deception. And they hadn’t even touched upon how Sophie felt about Walter St Clair, and his role in all of this. Nor how she felt about him in the light of the revelation.

  “How are you coping, dearest heart?” she asked softly. “It was a shock for you, as well. Especially with regards to Mr St Clair being a party to it all.”

  Sophie smiled ruefully. “It was a rude shock, as you say. Especially when Mr St Clair was so cavalier about it all, dismissing it as a mere joke or game.” She paused. “I was most disappointed by his attitude. I must say, I thought him a better man …”

  Lavinia nodded. “He claims he has not deceived us, in who he is, at least.” She gazed at Lavinia curiously. “Do you believe him, or is it just another lie, to add to the mix?”