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

Nine

Rough Draft

Verity tried to concentrate on the words before her and sighed. Her ink-stained fingers were a bitter reminder of the untold story hidden away in her bedchamber—she was so close to finishing her first novel—and the word epilogue danced in her head. In a library as vast and beautiful as this one, she should be able to relax. She needed this book to sweep her off her feet and out of this world. Verity wanted to lose herself in the story. "Jane Eyre" wasn't just any story, but a brilliant one. Not only did Verity enjoy the escape, but reading always opened her mind and allowed her to write. 

After reading, Verity could usually write for hours. It seemed the words would flow from her mind quicker than she could get them onto paper. Unfortunately, this hadn't been the case since her father passed away. She could not sleep and tried writing by candlelight, yet Verity had accomplished nothing but wastefulness. She felt pretty guilty for the copious amounts of parchment that met their demise in a fiery blaze. Verity had thrown page after page in the fireplace grate.

Here she sat, re-reading the same sentence for the third time. "Mayhap, a spot of tea will help me concentrate," she said aloud.

"Shall I ring for a fresh pot..."

"Oh, my goodness," Verity shrieked and turned to see Viscount Stanbury standing just inside the door. 

"Forgive me. I did not mean to startle you."

"Yet, you did," she answered with a tilt of her head.

"And I believe I apologized. I—"

"Yes, you did. I am sorry, and I don't mean to be cross."
The last thing Verity wanted was another row with the man. She had promised herself to get along with him. After all, none of this was his fault. She just wanted her life back, but that was not going to happen, and Verity would have to make the best of it.

"'Tis fine, Miss Weston. I came to let you know your aunt has arrived..."

"Already?" she asked with a shock and abruptly stood. "I must go to her at once."

"Please, Miss Weston, wait," he urged with his hand up as he inched closer to her. "I need to speak with you before you attend to the countess."

"The countess to whom you refer is my aunt. I must go to her at once."

"Verity, Lady Margaret can wait a moment. She is getting settled into her rooms as we speak. I've just spent the last twenty minutes obliging her," Julian said and exhaled loudly.

"I must go to her now. She will expect it and believe me rude or gauche if not. You do not know her as I do."

"On that score, I must agree. Yet, I concluded enough over a few glasses of brandy with the lady."

"Oh, dear. If my aunt is indulging already..." Verity shook her head.

Julian was mesmerized for a moment as he watched Verity's dark curls bounce. His eyes traveled to the wisps of hair at Verity's ear before settling on the curve of her neck. Viscount Stanbury was in a daze. Julian knew he was yet couldn't snap out of it. 

"My lord?" Verity asked.

With a quick shake of his head, he said, "Pardon me. I was trying to think of the quickest way to warn you."

"Warn me?" she asked, her brows raised in apparent confusion.

"Listen, Miss Weston. I know she is your aunt, and I am sure you love her."

"Well, of course, I do. However, I am not blind to Aunt Margaret's faults and eccentricities."

Though her father limited Verity's interactions with her aunt, there were several visits that she would like to forget. Still, Verity held a soft spot for the woman. Although she could appear quite mad at times, Lady Margaret had a large heart and a giving nature. Not one to openly show affection, she made up for it with trinkets, gifts, and the occasional compliment. Unfortunately, this was only one side of Lady Margaret's personality. There were many. Like the layers of an onion, they also ran deep. The Countess of Blakley was a complex creature, to be sure.

  "Yes, well... this is not exactly easy for me," Julian said and placed his hands on his hips. He threw his head back, looking up at the ceiling, and sighed. 

Verity couldn't help but feel sorry for the viscount. Her aunt tended to have this effect on most people. "Viscount, rest assured that nothing is ever easy when it comes to my aunt, the countess. If it eases you, I feel the same way. The very thought of greeting her has my insides in knots. The idea of not greeting her in a timely manner gives my gut physical pain. So please, if you will, tell me what you must so, I can get this over with."

"It is as bad as that? Of course, it is. I've met her. I know why your father was adamant about keeping you from her."
   
"Lord Ashmore, we've established that. Please do go on..."
   
The thought of speaking to a young, innocent woman, like Verity, about such inappropriate matters did not sit well with Julian. Nevertheless, he must do it. "I am afraid the countess has more than one reason for her visit. She may have come at your request regarding the death of her brother, yet she has a motive."

Verity giggled.

Shocked, Julian said, "There is nothing funny about this."

"Pray, excuse me," she said while placing a dainty hand over her mouth. "My aunt always has a motive for everything she does."

"And I believe that," he said. Pulling his handkerchief from inside his waistcoat, Julian wiped his brow. "However, this motive is repulsive and will ruin your life."

"Sounds serious," Verity said with an easy smile. While she knew her aunt could be petty and vindictive, she found her harmless.

"'Tis very serious. I think Lady Margaret plans to force you to wed her son—your first cousin!"

This time Verity laughed. An obnoxious, unladylike sound followed by an actual snort. "Preposterous. You've taken leave of your senses or indulged in too much brandy with my aunt." With that parting statement, Miss Verity Weston tsked and floated from the room.

"But wait," he said as she slipped out the door. "Buggar it all," he whispered to himself.

Lord Ashmore never got the chance to explain how he planned to jump down from a white horse and save her. 

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Lady Lisa