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

Five

Rough Draft

Verity had a fitful night. When she first entered her bedchamber, she was livid. The absolute nerve of that pompous, self-righteous woman had set Verity's teeth on edge. Even though Lord Ashmore had indeed spoken up on Verity's account, it wasn't enough to satisfy her. She wanted him to admonish the woman furiously. To be fair, she probably owed him an apology. Verity had taken her pain and anger out on him as well. The battle-ax deserved her scorn. The viscount did not.

Shortly after calming down, Verity had snuggled beneath the covers and sobbed into her pillow. She hated to appear weak in front of others, but she couldn't hold back the emotions plaguing her a moment longer. Verity had then tossed and turned as thoughts of her father invaded her mind. Verity didn't know how to go on without him and feared she would never be happy again. She certainly wasn't happy here. That thought alone made her feel deeply ashamed.

Verity doubted Viscount Stanbury was thrilled with the circumstances either. However, he had agreed to be her guardian. Why? She wondered and quickly had her answer. Lord Ashmore felt bound by duty, and the thought sickened her. He felt indebted to her father, and that's why they were both in this horrific predicament. He was obligated to care for her, but she didn't want to be his obligation. She felt so many conflicting emotions regarding the viscount.

As a young girl on the cusp of womanhood, she'd fancied herself in love with the tall, handsome viscount. Truth be told, she still found him attractive yet intimidating. Though she could not say why? He was personable, kind, and gentle of speech. Nevertheless, she got a good case of the nerves around him. Verity found it hard to look him in the eye, and her stomach felt ill at ease whenever he was close. How was she to live under his roof like this?

She could plead with him to send her to Bath to stay with her aunt, the Countess of Blakley. No, he would never agree. Thanks, Father, she mused to herself. He had made it clear that Aunt Margaret was not to be trusted. Mayhap, Lord Ashmore, would agree to a visit? She could use her extreme grief as an excuse. Before she had exhausted herself and her meandering ideas, the perfect solution came to her. I shall write to Aunt Margaret!

He couldn't possibly find fault in having her dear if a bit crazy, aunt come for a visit to cheer her up...could he? With her heart in her throat at the thought, another idea sprang to life: Aunt Margaret could be her companion!

Exhausted but filled with a sliver of hope, Verity finally slept.

🙜🙜🙜

Viscount Stanbury was reading The Times, engrossed in an article when he felt Verity's presence. Taking a moment to collect himself, he then laid the paper neatly beside his plate. "Good morning, Miss Weston," he said with cheer.

"Good morning, my lord," she chirped.

Julian was instantly on guard. Besides looking somewhat fatigued, there was a glow to her cheeks and an impish smile upon her face. Again, he was wary. However, Julian appraised her from head to toe—dressed in a plain black mourning gown, her eyes still sparkled. She was beautiful—a vision of loveliness—no matter what she wore.

"Please, have some nourishment," he said and indicated the spread of food laid out on the buffet counter. "I wasn't sure what you preferred, or if you would even join me, so I had Cook prepare an array." He smiled gently.

"That was very kind, my lord," she answered shyly, eyes downcast and looking at the floor. "However," she uttered softly and lifted her gaze to him before continuing, "I owe you an apology first."

"Nonsense! It is I—"

Holding up her dainty hand, she said, "Pray, let me finish. I beg you to forgive my insolence. You were indeed trying to take up for me last night." Verity again gazed at the floor. "I fear I was a bit emotional and unfair to you."

"'Tis understandable and I am sorry I didn't throw that wretch out on her ear," he spoke with heat.

Verity giggled, and Julian sighed with relief.

"There is a way you could make it up to me," Verity said in a whisper and locked eyes with Julian for but a moment. His gaze bore into her, so intense that heat crawled up her neck and settled into her cheeks. Verity quickly looked away. It was more than she could take. He was so very handsome, looking at her in earnest. He wants to make it up to me, Verity mused. It is written all over his face.

"Tell me how I can help," Julian urged softly.

Suddenly nervous, Verity feared her idea would anger the viscount. What had felt like the perfect solution last night was now weighing on her considerably. Nevertheless, it was too late. Verity had penned a letter to Aunt Margaret and gave it to the butler to post before joining the viscount to break her fast. Chewing her bottom lip, Verity took a seat. "Please do not be cross," she announced while reaching for the tea kettle.

"Why, pray, would I be cross? Mayhap, you should eat something before we have this conversation."

Verity sighed audibly. He was so amenable it was frustrating. Verity hated that she cared what he thought. While she feared his reaction, she wished to despise him. It would be much easier to dislike the man. Gathering up her courage and frustration, she carefully stirred the cream in her tea and said, "I wrote to Aunt Margaret."

"I see," Julian announced. "Are you close to your aunt?"

"Not really," Verity answered before taking a sip of the hot brew. Meeting his stare, she continued. "I invited her here to your residence because I feel we could benefit from her help."

"Pardon me?" the viscount intoned in a harsh whisper. "You did what?"

Judging by the look on his face, Verity thought mayhap she could dislike him after all. Nevertheless, her stomach suddenly revolted, and she was no longer hungry.

Thanks for reading! Please vote if you enjoyed this little chapter, and comment if you like.

Lady Lisa