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

Ten

Rough Draft

Julian felt like he was losing his mind. He never got the opportunity to say what he wanted to Verity. Perhaps it was for the best. Part of him felt anxious, and the other part felt... relief. She would surely think he was the one half-mad and not her aunt. Now, Viscount Stanbury was in a quandary. Should he proposition Verity with his outlandish scheme or simply find a suitable husband for her? 

Many had done it before, and he was sure they could pull it off. Nevertheless, there was a nugget of doubt tugging at his mind. First, there was the Cunning Countess. She would see right through it if they were not in earnest. Then, the whole "what if she takes it to heart and falls in love" bit. Now you're acting like a cocky arse, Stanbury, he mentally scolded himself. Not every woman falls in love with you. 

While that was true, not every woman fell in love with Julian, but plenty had. He knew the risk. Women were emotional beings. Julian suddenly felt the need for a hard ride and a trip to his club. Then he would decide whether to mention his scheme to Miss Weston or not. He could think of worse things than a fake engagement to a Viscount.

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Verity rushed from the library, headed straight for her chambers. She couldn't let her aunt see her in this drab morning dress. Then again, Verity didn't own anything worthy of the countess. Lady Margaret was nothing if not glamorous. She was puzzled to see her door cracked open a bit. Verity tried to remember if she had shut it properly, but it had been quite early when she gave up and left her room. Shrugging it off, she entered and screamed.

"Hush, child! You'll give me a megrim."

 She was speechless watching her aunt, who was in Verity's private chamber—making herself at home reading Verity's manuscript. The breath left her lungs, and blood rushed to her head. I, Verity Weston, am going to faint. Verity had a strong constitution and did not faint.

"You look pale as a sheep, child. Sit down before you faint. You know I detest simpering females," Aunt Margaret said before looking back down at the stack of papers in her hand. "This is quite good. Quite good, indeed. I always knew you were smart, child."

"Aunt Maggie, what pray tell, are you doing in my room?" 

"Ah, I was beginning to think the cat had your tongue too," the countess said and cackled. 

Verity had no idea what the old hag was going on about, and she was too vexed to care. "Answer the question. What are you doing in here?"

"I am merely checking out the accommodations. Much nicer than the ones you're used to, I'd surmise," Aunt Margaret said with a harrumph.

Here come the jabs at my father. An excellent excuse to change the subject, Verity thought and crossed her arms under her bosom. Verity no longer cared about her gown or her lack of glamour. She was in mourning after all.

As if reading her mind, the countess said, "My dear, you really should put some effort into your coiffure and dress. You've landed in fine silk, child. Fine silk. You should make an effort. You could do far worse than Stanbury. He is flush in the pockets," she said while holding her hand out around the room for dramatic effect. "He is also rather easy on the eyes." Aunt Margaret cackled again.

"Aunt Maggie," Verity said with force. 

"Yes, dear?"

"What are you doing here going through my private things?" Verity asked with narrowed eyes.

"Just seeing what my favorite niece is up to."

"I am your only niece," Verity retorted.

"Yes. What a pity. Nevertheless, child, I am sorry about your father. You know I never liked the geezer, yet I am sorry nonetheless. So, you have my condolences."

Most would be put off by such, but Verity knew her aunt better. She also knew that deep down; she was grieving the geezer she proclaimed to dislike. 

"Thank you, Aunt. Must you always be such a nosy ole bat?" asked Verity.

The countess smiled. "There you are. There's the spirited child that I adore. Now do take a seat and tell me everything. Let us start with Stanbury and then this little piece of literature that you have written."

"Do call him Viscount Stanbury. You are a guest in his home, Aunt. You owe him the courtesy." Verity seated herself and waited for the lecture to come.

"Child, I owe nothing to him or anyone. A lesson you should learn for yourself. But do go on. Tell me about your Viscount Stanbury," she urged. "We shall have you engaged in a fortnight." The countess rubbed her hands together in glee.

"Aunt Maggie! He is my guardian..."

"Soon to be husband," the countess corrected.

Verity laughed hard for the second time that morning. Once she started, she couldn't stop.

"What, pray, is so funny? If you would have a care with your appearance..."

Taking a deep breath, Verity wiped at the tears of mirth and said, "Forgive me. Lord Ashmore thinks you are here to wed me to Jamie." Verity began to laugh again, and the countess followed suit with a cackle.

After a moment, Aunt Margaret collected herself and said, "So Stanbury thinks I am here to get you to wed your cousin? This will be easier than I thought."

"Whatever you are planning, Aunt—"

"Hush, child. You leave it all to me."

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Lady Lisa