The Viscount Forgotten

by Emma Evans

  Lord Guthrie rose and smiled broadly. “I am very glad to hear it. Might I fetch you both some refreshments?”

  Not wanting to miss the opportunity to be in Lord Guthrie’s company in case he had something to say to her, Sophia got to her feet. “I shall join you, I think. Mrs. Drake, do you wish to join us?”

  Mrs. Drake shook her head, turning to greet an older lady who was coming into Lord Guthrie’s box. “No, I had plans to converse with Mrs. Stone for a time—and here she is, right on time!”

  Sophia laughed and greeted Mrs. Stone before following Lord Guthrie out into the corridor.

  It was already a crush of guests and, for a moment, Sophia regretted coming out with Lord Guthrie. However, her regret dissolved the moment he offered her his arm, which she took gladly.

  “A glass of champagne, perhaps?” Lord Guthrie murmured, walking quickly through the crowd. “Will Mrs. Drake want one?”

  “Yes, I think so,” Sophia replied, somewhat breathlessly as they weaved their way through the guests. “Goodness, it is busy this evening!”

  Lord Guthrie smiled at her and, startled by the warmth in his eyes, Sophia smiled back, her heart soaring within her. This was the man she knew, the gentleman unencumbered by secrets involving Lord Cardan and his own painful divorce. Perhaps she did not need to worry. Perhaps he might yet have something to say to her, something that would not break her heart.

  “Ah, Miss Newton!”

  Turning, Sophia saw Lady Beatrice, an acquaintance she had not seen for some time. Dropping Lord Guthrie’s arm, she greeted her at once and began to speak, only for Lady Beatrice to take her arm and begin to wander with her through the crowd.

  Throwing a glance over her shoulder, Sophia saw Lord Guthrie nod in her direction, tipping his head back towards the direction of his box. Nodding, Sophia smiled and began to converse in earnest with Lady Beatrice, glad that Lord Guthrie did not mind her leaving with her friend. She would return to the box before the beginning of the second act.

  After half an hour of conversation, the bell rang, and guests began to make their way back to their seats. Bidding Lady Beatrice good evening, Sophia began to make her way through the crowd towards Lord Guthrie’s box, only for a strong hand to grasp her arm.

  Stifling a gasp, she turned to see none other than Lord Cardan holding her arm with what appeared to be a feigned smile of happiness on his face.

  “Miss Newton!” he exclaimed, taking hold of her hand and placing it firmly on his arm, holding it there. “How pleasant to see you this evening. Are you enjoying the performance?”

  A thrill of fear raced through her, aware of the tight grip he had on her hand. “Yes, indeed,” she replied firmly. “And I do not want to miss a moment of the next act so do excuse me.”

  She made to move away, only for him to tighten his grip all the more.

  “Lord Cardan,” she said again, aware that there were, by this point, very few other guests left in the corridor. “Do excuse me.”

  “He told me about you, didn’t he?”

  Lord Cardan half walked, half dragged her to a shadowy corner and, thrusting Sophia against the wall, placed one hand either side of her head, leaning down over her.

  “He told you about what Lady Guthrie and I did,” he said again, his voice low and threatening. “Do not tell me that you believed it.”

  Fighting the urge to scream, Sophia lifted her chin and looked directly back at Lord Cardan. “I believed every word,” she said firmly, far too aware of how her situation could look should someone else see them. Lord Cardan was practically pressed up against her and, should she alert someone to their presence, then they might very well believe her a willing participant in Lord Cardan’s affections—even though that was precisely the opposite of what was occurring. No doubt Lord Cardan had engineered it in such a way so that she could not easily escape without drawing attention to herself.

  “How unfortunate,” Lord Cardan said smoothly. “You ought not to believe everything your chaperone says. Lord Guthrie is not the man you think.”

  “And this from the man who is behaving so inappropriately at this very moment!” Sophia exclaimed, glancing behind Lord Cardan in the hope that perhaps an innocuous footman might spot her so that she could hail him for assistance. “You need not pretend, Lord Cardan. We will not be continuing our association.”

  Lord Cardan’s expression changed almost immediately to one of anger. His eyes narrowed to slits, his brows melding together. His lips curled, his jaw clenched, his posture tightening.

  “Lord Guthrie is a fool,” he hissed loudly. “He could have left Lady Guthrie and myself to our harmless little fling and all would have been well. Instead, he chose to pursue divorce and, in doing so, threw me out of society’s good graces for a great many years.”

  “I cannot think that is Lord Guthrie’s fault,” Sophia replied, ignoring the anxious thudding of her heart. “To take another man’s wife is the lowest act any gentleman might do, and I cannot think well of you after hearing about what you did. In fact, it comes as a shock to me that anyone is willing to associate with you. I, certainly, am not.”

  He glared at her, his hands curling into fists beside her head. “Perhaps I should punish Lord Guthrie for what he did to me,” he whispered, lowering his head. “By his actions, he pushed me from London for years, disgrace chasing at my heels. Perhaps now, I should take something precious from him again.” His lips curled into a threatening smile. “After all, I did it once before. It would bring me great pleasure to do so again.”

  “I would not even consider that, if I were you,” said a loud, strong voice. “Step away from my fiancée, Cardan. This is over.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  It hadn’t taken Hector more than a few minutes to realize that something was wrong. Sophia hadn’t returned, the curtain was already lifting and even Mrs. Drake looked concerned. Lady Beatrice would not have remained to talk, not when it was more than rude to return to one’s seat late.

  He had hurried out of the box in search of her, a sudden fear clutching at his heart. A fear that perhaps he had been foolish in allowing her to go off with Lady Beatrice alone, but he had never truly believed that anything untoward would happen to her in such a large crowd.

  And now, as he saw Sophia’s eyes widen and stare at him, as he took in the vile grin that spread across Lord Cardan’s face, Hector realized just how wrong he had been.

  “Your fiancée, did you say?” Lord Cardan repeated, grasping Sophia’s arm with one hand and placing his strong arm around her shoulders, pulling her out of the shadows. “That’s funny. She did not say anything about that to me.”

  Hector did not look at Lord Cardan but rather at Sophia. The words had slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, but he would not take them back for the world. This felt right. It felt good. He wanted Sophia as his wife, wanted to have the freedom to love her and trust her as he had never been able to do before.

  “If she will have me,” he murmured softly, “then yes, she is to be my bride.”

  Sophia’s eyes grew bright and she nodded, tugging away from Lord Cardan who still refused to let her go. “Of course I will,” she said loudly. “Unhand me, Cardan.”

  Lord Cardan sneered, his fingers white on Sophia’s shoulder. “But I like this young thing, just as I liked your wife, Guthrie. After the mess you caused the last time, I think I deserve a bit of fun.”

  Dampening down his anger, Hector tried his best to remain steady and calm. He could not afford to lose his temper, not now. A few murmurs from behind him alerted him to the fact that there were a few gentlemen appearing in the corridor, apparently having heard their loud conversation from their boxes.

  “Your removal from society was your own doing, Cardan,” he said, firmly. “I will not pretend that my wife was not also to blame considering she was more than willing to go into your arms, but I assure you that I feel no guilt in your disgrace. Society heard of what you had done just as much as they heard of my
wife’s behavior. Had you wanted to keep it all away from their sight, then you ought not ever to have trifled with my wife at all. As it is, I have no regret in what I did. I may carry the shame of divorce, but I accept it willingly. I would not have an unfaithful wife simply to keep my name intact.”

  The look on Lord Cardan’s face changed from anger to frustration as he realized the crowd of onlookers were now aware of exactly what was going on.

  “Now,” Hector continued, desperate to have Sophia in his arms again safely. “Release my fiancée, Cardan. Else I shall call you out and, believe me, I will take great pleasure in aiming a shot at your heart.” He allowed a small smile to linger on his face, making sure that Lord Cardan knew he was not in the least bit intimidated. “I have heard that I am a very good shot.”

  The murmurings coming from behind him began to grow in number and, to Hector’s relief, Cardan stepped away from Sophia and let her go, his hands dropping to his sides. Sophia, staggering for a moment, rushed into Hector’s waiting arms, her breath shuddering as he held her tightly.

  “I think you had best leave the theatre, Lord Cardan,” said one of the gentlemen who had been watching. “You are not welcome here any longer.”

  “Nor are you welcome at Whites,” said another. “I should have known that you had not truly reformed. Your gentlemanly behavior was nothing more than a sham. I shall make sure Whites knows not to welcome you and, believe me, that news shall spread around London like wildfire.”

  Lord Cardan was bright red, his mouth sputtering, his hands balled into fists as he glared at each one of the men. Apparently, he had never thought that he would be thrown from society again, perhaps believing that he would not be caught in his attempts to either seduce or force his attentions on Sophia. Hector tensed as the man came towards them slowly, only to find Sophia stepping out of his arms and directly into Lord Cardan’s path.

  “You will need to find a quiet spot somewhere far away from London,” she said clearly. “I will ensure that all the ladies of the beau monde know not to allow their daughters anywhere near you. After how you have treated me and how you have treated Lord Guthrie, I cannot think that anywhere will be open to you. Shame on you, Lord Cardan. I believed you to be an amiable and honest gentleman and now I see you are nothing more than the devil himself.” She pressed one finger, hard, against Lord Cardan’s chest, her voice lowering. “And have no doubt that you will be turned away from all balls, recitals and musicales,” she finished solemnly. “I will make certain of it.”

  With a roar of frustration, Lord Cardan knocked Sophia’s arm aside and hurried through the crowd of gentlemen, which parted for him like the sea. Hector let out a long breath, feeling himself almost weak with relief as Sophia turned back to face him, her chin lifted and eyes sparkling with fire.

  “We’ll make sure he doesn’t return,” one of the gentlemen said, slapping Hector hard on the shoulder. “And congratulations, old man. I hope you two will be very happy.”

  “Thank you,” Hector replied weakly. “I hope so, too.”

  Looking back at Sophia, he saw that she was smiling at him gently and, taking her hand, he led her to a quiet spot where they might talk in private. The other gentlemen continued to walk away from them both, ensuring that Lord Cardan left the building. There was nothing to fear from him any longer. By his own actions, Lord Cardan had yet again set himself apart from society’s welcoming arms.

  Looking down at Sophia, Hector felt his heart beat wildly, his mind whirring with thoughts of all that had happened—and all that he had said. He had called Sophia his fiancée and she had not rejected it. She had agreed. They were to be wed. Husband and wife. The vows he had once said he would say again, promising himself to Miss Sophia Newton for the rest of his days. The thought brought a surge of joy racing all through him, his throat working as he fought to keep control of his emotions.

  “I’m afraid there’s nothing for it now,” Sophia said, the moment they stopped to stand together. “You’re going to have to marry me.”

  Hector shook his head, reaching for her hand and holding it between his two. “I’m sorry, Sophia.”

  The smile faded from her face, her eyes rounding. “Sorry?” she whispered, her free hand now pressed against her head. “Are you saying that you didn’t really mean…?”

  Understanding what she meant, Hector shook his head and laughed, seeing her immediate relief. “No, indeed, that is not what I meant. I am sorry for hiding my true feelings from you—from myself. So much of this might have never been had I been honest with you from the very start.” Swallowing a sudden lump in his throat, he dropped his head and looked down at their joined hands. “I have been fighting my feelings for you for some time, Sophia. I thought it best that you find another gentleman, a more suitable gentleman. I have a difficult past, a disgrace that will cling to me regardless of how many years go by.”

  “None of that matters.”

  He lifted his gaze and saw her gentle smile, the slight blush in her cheeks. She radiated beauty, her heart open to him.

  “None of that matters, Guthrie,” she said again, reaching up to cup his cheek. “I do not care about your divorce, nor about the disgrace you speak of. I only care about you. I told you that I loved you and that love covers all the difficulties that may come our way.”

  The tenderness in her words had him forgetting about the past, his wounded heart already beginning to heal. He knew Sophia would never treat him as his first wife had done. There was a bond there that he had never felt before, one that would grow and strengthen as they spent their days together. “I feel as though I do not deserve you,” he mumbled, feeling his heart wrench and yet fill with a deep, abiding affection that he knew he could not deny. “You accept me as I am, even after all the things that I hid from you, that I tried to pretend did not exist.”

  She laughed softly and shook her head, her fingers now curling into his hair at the back of his neck. Shivers raced down his spine, his heart thundering wildly as she moved closer, aware of just how alone they both were.

  “And now you will not be able to hide anything from me anymore, even if you should wish it,” she whispered, pulling her hand from his and placing it around his neck. “For I shall be your wife, living in our home together and sharing your life. I think it shall be a very happy life indeed. One filled with love and with trust.” She looked directly into his gaze, her smile fading into seriousness for a moment. “I will never be untrue, Guthrie. I will always hold your heart in my own and I will never give my affection to another.”

  The honesty in her eyes shone like the morning star and Hector felt himself grow almost weak with love. “I trust you, Sophia,” he whispered, his hands now settling on her waist, almost of their own accord. “I—I love you.” The words, spoken aloud, burst from within him, sending light into Sophia’s eyes. It was the words she had been waiting to hear and the words that he had needed to say. “I will not doubt you,” he continued, breathing her in. “My heart is open to you, healing from the past and presenting itself to you with all its scars.”

  “And I take it gladly,” she murmured, her face very close to his own. “Shall you make our engagement announcement tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow,” he agreed, before lowering his head and kissing her with all the love burning wildly in his heart.

  THE END

  The Viscount’s Conquest (Preview)

  Lords of London

  By: Emma Stone

  Chapter One

  “And so it is that I fully intend to propose!”

  Viscount William Morton stretched his arms wide and gave a broad smile. His green eyes practically blazed with delight as he waited for his friend, Viscount Stephen Radcliffe, to offer his congratulations.

  However, Stephen did not do as expected. In fact, he did not even smile. As far as he was concerned, this was yet another example of his friend going a little too far. “Come now, Morton,” he said calmly, pouring two small measures of brandy and handing one to h
im. “How long have you known this chit? A week? A sennight?”

  “A month,” Morton replied, a little haughtily, as though aware of what Stephen was about to say. “And the most wonderful of months at that!”

  Stephen tried not to roll his eyes, mentally counting just how many eligible ladies Viscount Morton had declared his love for over the last few months.

  “I know what you are going to say, Radcliffe,” Morton continued with a sniff.

  “Then I shall not even bother to open my mouth,” Stephen interrupted before Morton could continue. “My lecture shall remain unspoken, my concern and apprehension kept to myself.”

  Morton turned away, walking towards the large window in the drawing room that overlooked the London streets. “Good,” came the eventual response, as the man shrugged his shoulders. “I do not want to hear it anyway.”

  Stephen said nothing, just as he had promised, and instead concentrated on savoring his brandy. That was one good thing about Morton—he always had excellent brandy on offer and Stephen had always enjoyed a glass or two.

  The silence stretched between them, although a small smile lingered on Stephen’s lips. Morton was doing his best to remain nonchalant, trying to pretend that he did not care one jot about Stephen’s opinion, yet his straight, taut stance told Stephen otherwise.

  “Oh, very well!” Morton exclaimed, storming back over towards Stephen and throwing himself into a chair. “Go on, give me your lecture! Tell me what a fool I am being.”

  “You are being a fool,” Stephen replied quietly. “You are throwing yourself into matrimony with a chit you barely know.”

  Morton frowned. “A month’s acquaintance is hardly to be mocked, Radcliffe.”

  “And how long have you been courting her?”

  Stephen watched as Morton’s expression grew a little uncomfortable. Morton shifted in his chair, folding and unfolding his hands.