The Heart of a Viscount: Book 1 Victorian Romance Series: SAMPLE CHAPTERS

Seven

Rough Draft

Julian couldn't remember a time he had been this angry. No, mere anger wasn't an appropriate term to describe the extreme emotion taking over his usual calm nature. Viscount Stanbury was livid! His fury and indignation were so intense; he wanted to punch a wall, break something, or spank a certain impertinent female. However, spanking a grown woman was inappropriate and out of the question, or was it? Of course, it was, yet the idea hovered in his mind. Yes, bending Miss Weston over his knee and giving her a good thrashing would serve her right and perhaps make him feel better. Now you're acting wicked and perverse, Stanbury; Julian mentally scolded himself for his impure and preposterous reflections.

Shaking his head, Julian realized there was a rather broad grin on his face. He could imagine Miss Weston across his lap and the fight that would ensue. Julian was losing his grip on reality because of the chit. He was also failing her father, his dear friend, who entrusted Verity's care and safety to him. "I am so sorry, Franklin," he whispered to himself. Julian had promised Franklin he would take the guardianship seriously and see Verity settled with a respectful, kind husband. By God, he would honor his promise and Franklin's final request.

Feeling his rage abate, he needed to think about their impending guest, Aunt Margaret. Although it was still early, Julian poured himself a hefty measure of brandy. After much consideration, Julian decided it best to allow the countess to visit with her niece. A short drop-in might bring Miss Weston comfort, yet he wouldn't abide by Aunt Margaret taking over. Franklin was unmistakable-crystal clear- on the subject. He told Julian a few cringe-worthy stories of his sister, Margaret, and they all included the adjectives: dotage, eccentric, bedlamite, and proper crazy.

Starting now, he would put his foot down. Julian had been so consumed with trying to make Miss Weston happy and comfortable in her new surroundings that he'd lost sight of the ultimate goal. Now, he must concentrate on his responsibility to her and her late father. Miss Weston was still grieving and would, in time, find her own happiness. Julian just needed to find her a husband- and a proper companion- and everything else would fall into place. He knew one thing: Aunt Margaret, countess or not, would not be taking over as Verity's companion. He would put his foot down, indeed.

Finding Verity a husband should be a reasonably simple task. Miss Weston was, without a doubt, a beautiful woman. Her striking good looks, petite yet voluptuous body, and ample dowry would have men clamoring at her feet. "Yes, it shall be easy unloading the chit," Julian breathed aloud to his empty study. While the words were meant to soothe and calm his ire, he clenched his jaw at the thought. The very idea of numerous men 'clamoring' at her feet set his teeth on edge, igniting his fury all over again. Damn and blast!

A knock on the door interrupted his musings. "Enter," he barked and immediately regretted his harsh tone.

"Milord," the butler, Carlton, ventured with obvious caution. No doubt he'd sensed and heard the rancor in his lordship's tone.

"Yes," Julian uttered with a calmness he really didn't possess. However, he would not become the type of boorish master who took his temper out on innocent servants.

"The Countess of Blakley has arrived," he spoke in a hushed tone, brows lifted to his hairline.

"Splendid," Julian announced with a forced smile. "Absolutely splendid." Julian's tone conveyed he was acting facetious and flippant. However, Carlton was already aware of Julian's thoughts regarding the Countess and her impromptu visit.

Clearing his throat, Carlton added, "She insists on speaking with you in private, milord."

"Does she now..." Julian muttered with raised brows. "Let the countess know that I shall be available here in my study when she has rested from her journey."

"Actually, milord, she wishes for you to accept her at once," Carlton retorted with a faint wince that crinkled around his eyes.

With an exaggerated sigh, Julian agreed with a mere nod of his head.

Julian was not prepared or happy with this latest development. No, he thought to have some time-alone-in his study to prepare before meeting Lady Margaret. Although Franklin had done a thorough job describing the countess, Julian surmised it wasn't quite the same. While he must remain polite, respectful of her rank and age, he would not allow her to bully him around-a fact Franklin had assured Julian she would try to do.

Julian could only hope that, as a sibling, Franklin had exaggerated his sister's outlandish eccentricities. He could hope so anyway. What if she is worse? He found himself thinking as a rap sounded on his study door, startling him back into his bleak reality.

"Enter," he bemoaned.

"Lady Margaret, the Countess of Blakley," Carleton announced from somewhere behind the overbearing creature.

Lady Margaret entered the room, a large feather bejeweled turban taller than Julian had ever seen bounced around her head precariously as she bounded inside, commanding the entire room. Julian was struck silent, and he had the sudden urge to beg Carleton to stay. The door to his study shut quietly, and he was now alone with Aunt Margaret.

Julian, realizing he was staring, finally stood to bow. Rising, he struggled to control his expression. Unfortunately, the grandiose turban, the blonde, outdated crooked wig, and her powdered and painted face made it sufficiently challenging. The countess resembled a clown, and Julian's cheeks ached as he desperately contained his mirth. It wouldn't do to break out in laughter. It just wasn't the done thing. Before he could reign in his thoughts, the Countess herself cackled out loud. "Well, cat got your tongue?" she asked.

"Excuse me?" Julian cleared his throat and decided he really did deserve that. Nevertheless, it wasn't at all proper. Neither was staring at the elder Countess as she still stood before him. "Pardon my abdominal manners, my lady. Won't you please take a seat?" Julian gestured to the wing-back brocade chairs before his desk.

"Yes, I think I will, lad."

Lad, Julian thought to himself yet remained silent. "Would you care for tea?" he inquired with a forced smile.

"I'd prefer brandy," Lady Margaret announced without batting an eye. Once again, Lord Stanbury was struck silent. "That cat gets your tongue a lot, lad. Shall I pour for myself since it looks as if you have been nipping already yourself," she asked with one lifted brow.

Damn and blast, Julian mused to himself.

***

Thanks for reading! I haven't had much time to write, so I'm sorry for the late update. I've been busy editing for other authors. I am now a certified editor. I hope everyone is well and if you enjoyed this chapter of me introducing Aunt Margaret, please vote.

Lady Lisa