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

Four

Rough Draft

He was not wrong. While quiet at first, the tension thick and suffocating, he admitted— to himself—that the unbecoming banter and conversation was even worse. It was crystal clear that he was out of his element. Julian had mucked everything up already and wasn't sure how to remedy it. The last thing he needed was Miss Verity hating him. And if she didn't hate him, well, she felt something very similar. Suffice to say; he did not have her favor at the moment.

"Your table manners are an abomination," Miss Hawthorn seethed and returned to her soup.

"Your rigid, unkind personality is the abomination," Verity spat back with venom and quickly gave Julian a heated glare.

It was clear that Verity expected Julian to reprimand the cruel woman, but if he were to secure Miss Weston in a good marriage, she needed to learn proper etiquette. Nevertheless, this was not the way to go about teaching her: a girl who'd just lost her father. Julian firmly believed you caught more bees with honey.

"Miss Hawthorn," he began and cleared his throat. "I must ask you to mind your tongue—"

"Mind my tongue?" Miss Hawthorn screeched. "Well, I have...never!"

"That is to say; I need you to remember that Miss Weston has just lost her father, and a little kindness shall go a long way..."

"Kindness will not teach her the proper etiquette to secure a proper husband, my lord," she retorted through thinly drawn lips.

Sighing, Julian was at a loss and ready to throw the woman out on her ear. No wonder she was available at a moment's notice. What was the duchess thinking, sending this monster as a companion to a grieving young lady? Julian would give her an ear full soon, but he would wait until after dinner. It wouldn't be proper at this point, and the whole meal was already a fiasco.

"The Duchess told me that your father was the son of a baron," Miss Hawthorn stated and quickly looked down her nose at Verity. "One would think your manners would reflect your status, but then again, he was the third son," she finished haughtily, her pointy chin now held high in the air.

"My father, madam, is none of your concern," Verity retorted, head held high, her razor-sharp eyes zeroed in on her prey.

"I am merely wondering why you are here," Miss Hawthorn inquired, holding out her hand to indicate the viscount's residence. "Instead of with your family. Your father obviously has a brother who is a baron..."

"Not that it is any of your business, but my father and his brother, the baron, are estranged— and were quite dead to each other. I am here because my father wished it," Verity seethed.

"I shall not even consider surrounding myself with such...such impertinence!" Miss Hawthorn intoned sharply and threw her napkin down on her plate. "You are nothing but an insufferable hoyden!" Standing, she bowed stiffly to Julian and huffed before quitting the room.

"Good Riddance," Verity said to her retreating form.

Julian groaned and sighed before ringing for brandy. "Miss Weston, that was quite unnecessary. I had the situation in hand and was—"

"Unnecessary," Verity incredulously lamented while enunciating each syllable. "You, sir, allowed her to belittle me!"

"I did no such thing. I told Miss Hawthorn to hold her tongue, and—"

"You did not do enough! That battle ax ridiculed me, and you sat there, enjoying your dinner!" Verity yelled. She felt the burn behind her eyes and quickly jumped up from the table. Verity wouldn't allow Lord Ashmore to see her cry.

"Miss Weston, wait," Julian called out with urgency as she rushed past him.

Her tears had escaped down her face, so Verity stopped with her back to him and stood in silence.

"I will have a maid move into the adjoining chamber, so everything is above reproach. I will also find you another companion—a kind companion. I am truly sorry. I...I am sorry about everything—especially your father. I cared a great deal for him."

"I do not wish for another companion, my lord." Verity quickly slipped from the door, leaving Julian at a loss for words.

After their disastrous dinner, Julian no longer had an appetite and headed to his study for a much-needed drink. After sending his head housekeeper to sleep in Verity's adjoining room, he was left with only his thoughts. His mind in turmoil; Julian felt like a complete arse and desperately wanted Verity happy. He knew grieving was expected, but he'd single-handedly made matters worse. And for that, he was ashamed.

Julian would start by finding her an amenable and proper companion. He should probably send her to his estate in the country during her mourning period; however, London was her home. More confused than ever, yet determined to do whatever made her the happiest, Julian finished off another brandy and was ready to retire. It had been one hell of a long day.

Julian's feet led him to Miss Weston's door as he subconsciously bypassed his chamber. He couldn't say why he found himself outside Miss Weston's door...Julian assumed he wanted assurance that she was safe and sound. Standing quietly, he suddenly heard soft sobs coming from within. With a heavy heart, he quietly made his way back to his rooms with the promise of tomorrow being a better day.