A Viscount to Remember: Regency Romance (Brides of London) Read online

  A Viscount to Remember

  Brides of London

  Joyce Alec

  Contents

  Love Light Faith

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Epilogue

  More Stories You’ll Love

  Thank You!

  A Viscount to Remember

  Text Copyright © 2019 by Joyce Alec

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  First printing, 2019

  Publisher

  Love Light Faith, LLC

  400 NW 7th Avenue, Unit 825

  Fort Lauderdale, FL 33311

  Love Light Faith

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  Prologue

  Nineteenth Century, England

  She crept carefully towards the door, her feet barely making a sound. She was breathing rapidly, her heart beating with both pain and a desperate hope as she heard the murmuring of voices.

  It had to be him. He was here now, within the house. He had said that he would speak to her guardian, had promised that he would do so just as soon as he could, and she had clung onto that promise with every bit of hope that she could muster. Her heart ached suddenly, her hands clasping together as she raised them to her mouth, closing her eyes where she stood and praying that he would be accepted.

  Her breathing quickened. She could hear them now, speaking together. The truth was within her, desperate to be spoken, desperate to be let out, and yet she could not say it, would not say it, until she knew he had been given permission. The affection she had for him would not disappear merely because she had waited another day before speaking to him of it, but the desire to tell him the truth about her deep, unrelenting feelings for him was growing steadily. A smile crossed her face as she opened her eyes and leaned against the wall, next to the door. It would not be long now, would not be long until she could share with him the truth of her heart.

  The door, being a little ajar, allowed her to hear what was being said without revealing herself. Surely there could be no reason for her guardian to refuse him. He was a kind, honest, and good gentleman, as far as she knew him, and would, she was certain, make an excellent husband. They would spend their years together in happiness, bound together by the cords of love.

  “I am sorry, but no.”

  Her heart stopped suddenly, forcing her to drag in a ragged breath. Her hands tightened together as a fist of ice gripped her heart.

  “I do not consider you suitable,” she heard her guardian say, hardly able to believe that such a thing was being uttered. “You cannot court her.”

  Her eyes slid shut, tears forming in them almost at once. She could hear the murmur of protest, could hear him trying to fight back against the determination, but knew her guardian well enough to know that there would be no reconsideration. He was a strong-willed man and once he had made a decision, there was nothing else for it. He had refused her the happiness she had been so desperate for, had refused to allow the only person she cared for to come any nearer to her.

  Tears burned in her eyes as she turned around, leaning heavily against the wall for a long moment as she fought to gain her composure. She could not linger here, could not see him now. Nor did she want to see her guardian, for the pain of his judgment lay heavily on her soul. She could not understand him, could not even think of his reasons for refusing what could have been a joyous union. The pain in her heart grew so great that she had to press one hand to her mouth for fear of crying out, forcing her feet to move as she stumbled back along the hallway and towards the stairs that led to her bedchamber.

  She was to be alone. She was not to be accepted into the arms of the man she loved. Her guardian had seen to that. He had ruined her one chance at happiness, for she would never feel such a thing for another, she was certain of it. His reasons did not matter, his thoughts did not interest her. All she felt was pain.

  Tears poured down her cheeks like rivers as she staggered to the staircase. She could not linger here, not now. To continue to live in the same house as the man who had denied her so much was not something she could even consider. Her life had to change now but she knew that the pain would still linger. It would be something she carried with her throughout her life until, mayhap one day, she would finally be able to find a way to hide it from herself.

  Her hope was gone, her heart was broken.

  There was nothing left.

  1

  “You have not been successful.”

  Miss Louisa Smallwood lifted her chin defiantly. “That is unfair, Father. You have given me no assistance in this matter.”

  Her father, Baron Churston, was a slight man with a rotund middle, a round, unlikeable face with brows that were constantly furrowed, thin lips, and dark brown eyes that were, at the present, fixed entirely upon his daughter.

  “That is not at all true!” the Baron exclaimed, throwing up one hand in evident disapproval. “I have aided you a great deal in finding a suitable gentleman, but no one has sought to court you and therefore, we are to return home.”

  There was a slight look of guilt in Lord Churston’s eyes, however, for he did not look directly at Louisa as he spoke, turning to the left just a little as if he found her presence rather trying. Louisa, who was trying her very best to stand up for herself and, in turn, refused to accept her father’s verdict, noted this with a little satisfaction.

  “That is not at all the case, Father, as well you know,” she stated with as much sternness as she could muster. “You have not introduced me to any gentlemen this Season. Not one. I have had to rely on my friend, Miss Grey, to do so.”

  Her father’s expression darkened all the more. “I believe you mean Miss Grey, the lady who is now engaged to one Lord Marchmont.” An accusatory brow lifted, as though Louisa ought to have found a way to become engaged also.

  “She is due to wed in a fortnight,” Louisa informed him. “But yes, it is she that I speak of. She has been the only one interested in encouraging my acquaintance with the gentlemen of the ton, whilst you, Father, have done nothing of the sort.” Louisa knew full well that without Miss Grey’s encouragement, she would never have found the confidence to speak to her father in terms such as these, having been somewhat quiet and accommodating in the months and years that had gone before. However, this year, her father had told her directly, and quite unexpectedly, that she was required to find a suitable gentleman and become engaged by the Season’s end, else she would never return to London again. Thereafter, he had commented that a gentleman near to his estate, one Sir Walton, might make her a suitable husband if she could not find someone with a better titl
e and fortune.

  The thought had turned her stomach. Sir Walton was not a young man and had, thus far, had three wives, all of whom had died from some malady or other, although quite what these maladies had been, Louisa did not know. Her father and Sir Walton were very great friends and, at various times, had done each other favors or offered help when there was none. Louisa strongly suspected that her father had made the suggestion that Louisa might be Sir Walton’s next wife once Lord Walton had completed his mourning period which, no doubt, Sir Walton would have agreed to at once. It would mean that her father would no longer have to look after her or be required to pay for her upkeep. It also meant that this, therefore, would be her very last Season, for Sir Walton would be completing his mourning period by the end of the year.

  Louisa was not inclined to accept such a fate. She also suspected that her father had given her this final Season in the hope that she would be able to find a higher title and, therefore, a wealthier gentleman than Sir Walton but, having not held out a good deal of hope, had made very little effort to aid her.

  “You have not helped me as you promised, Father,” she stated firmly. “Therefore, you cannot expect me to do as you ask. I will not willingly return home.”

  Her father’s brows lowered. “You have never been so disagreeable before, Louisa,” he said disapprovingly. “When I tell you that your time in London is at an end, then you must obey.”

  “I will not.”

  Louisa drew in a ragged breath, steeling herself. Her father, clearly unused to his daughter being so disobedient and defiant, looked back at her in evident confusion, not at all certain what to do or say. Louisa knew she had to say more, had to state her case and demand that her father be of more assistance. Perhaps outright defiance was not the way to go about it, however. Mayhap she had to be a little more considered.

  “Father,” she said, taking a few steps towards him. “You want me to be married and settled, which I well understand. However, do you not wish me to make a suitable match? To find a gentleman who will bring this family honor? And not to mention that there would be a good deal more wealth also. To have your daughter joined to… shall we say, a baronet, is decent, of course, but to have her married to a viscount or even an earl would be a good deal better, would it not?”

  Her father’s brows lifted just a little.

  “Yes,” he agreed slowly. “Yes, I believe it would. But Louisa, you have not shown any evidence of being able to capture the attentions of such a gentleman. I must therefore believe that a baronet or the like is all that you can achieve.”

  Louisa shook her head firmly, her heart sinking within her as she realized that her suspicions had been correct. “But you have given me no aid, Father,” she answered, reminding him again of his failings. “That is unfair. You have left me to my own devices and to my friend, Miss Grey, whom I can no longer rely upon in the same way.”

  Her father sighed heavily. “Mayhap I should find you a companion.”

  The idea was not entirely to Louisa’s liking, but it was, at least, a good deal more improved than her father insisting that they leave London in the middle of the Season.

  “It would certainly help me in my endeavors,” she replied cautiously, not quite certain whether her father was doing this for her benefit or for his. If he found a companion for her, then the onus would still not be on his shoulders when it came to finding her a suitable husband. “Have you someone in mind?”

  Her father shook his head, clearly having decided to give into Louisa’s demand that they stay in London for the remainder of the Season. Louisa could not help but smile, finding it difficult to hide her emotion. She would have to write to Miss Grey at once and tell her that her encouragement to be bold and to stand up for what she wanted had done wonders. Lord Churston clearly had very little idea of what he was to do with his daughter when she behaved in such a fashion. This had led to Louisa managing to not only stay in London for the rest of the Season but also having a companion, which would give her more independence and certainly aid her as she attempted to circulate throughout society a little more.

  “I am certain I can find someone very soon, however,” Lord Churston muttered, sitting down and slumping back in his chair, clearly no longer willing to try and fight his newly insolent daughter and betraying that singular lack of character that had been so often a part of his life. “We shall remain for the last two months of the Season, as you wish, Louisa. Thereafter, I think—”

  “I shall be certain to find someone, of course,” Louisa replied hurriedly, hardly daring to believe that she had been successful in her endeavors as regarded her father. “You need not doubt that, with help from either yourself or my new companion, I shall be entirely successful.”

  Her father passed a hand over his eyes, a small groan escaping from his mouth. He did not enjoy the Season, Louisa considered, although this was mostly due to the fact that he lost a lot of money playing cards and gambling when he ought not to do anything of the sort.

  “Shall you search for a suitable companion for me, Father, or should I make some enquiries?” Louisa continued, when her father said nothing. She knew very little about how one went about finding a companion, but she was not about to let her father’s lack of decisiveness prevent her from succeeding. “We should go about it as quickly as possible, should we not?”

  Lord Churston muttered something under his breath but then nodded, lifting his hand and looking at Louisa directly. “I shall take care of it, of course,” he replied, seeming now to be a little sullen. “Directly. You may go now, Louisa.”

  Louisa, thrilled with the success of her endeavors, curtsied quickly and turned around, hurrying out of her father’s study for fear that he might stop her with a word and state that he had made a mistake. However, no such word came and Louisa was left with the delighted feeling that she had been completely and utterly successful. Clasping her hands together, she walked with quick, short steps, feeling as though she ought to write to Miss Grey immediately, to both thank her for her aid and her advice as well as to inform her that all was not lost, as she had first feared. She was to stay in London for the rest of the Season and now, it seemed, would have the correct sort of person beside her in order to improve and further her acquaintances. Surely there would be some gentleman from within the beau monde who might take an interest in her. Pausing for a moment, Louisa caught sight of her reflection in the mirror that hung in the hallway. She regarded herself, taking in her short, straight nose, her bright blue eyes, and dark hair that, today, had been pulled back into a simple chignon. Not overly pretty, mayhap, but what made things all the worse was the smattering of freckles that appeared over her nose and cheeks. Her lips twisted as she rubbed at one vainly, knowing that nothing she could do would remove them from her face. However, the way that she had conducted herself for the first few weeks of the Season had not been to her best advantage. She had been quiet and refrained, keeping back from the majority of the beau monde and feeling entirely uninteresting and rather dull. That had changed once she had met Miss Grey and for that, Louisa would be forever grateful.

  A sigh left her lips as she turned away, climbing the staircase that led to her own bedchamber and, therein, her writing desk and quill. As she hurried within and shut the door behind her, Louisa felt some of her happiness return. She was about to embark on the next part of her Season refreshed and renewed. Who knew who she might encounter now? Her excitement began to grow as she seated herself and picked up her quill. She asked for neither love nor affection, but rather a practical companionship that would allow her to pass her years with genuine contentedness and, mayhap, a small fondness for the man she was to call husband. That was all she wished for, all that she hoped for. It would be more than enough for someone such as her, for a daughter of a baron—and one with freckles, at that—could not expect anything more.

  2

  A Sennight Later

  “Well, Miss Smallwood, might I say that you look quite delightful.”


  Louisa nodded, smiled, and looked across at her companion. “Thank you, Miss Martin,” she replied, thinking that this new companion of hers was certainly very complimentary, for this was now the fourth time she had commented on Louisa’s appearance. Miss Martin had only just left London, accompanying her prior charge, a Miss McBride, back to her father’s house, where the girl was soon to be married. This in itself was an excellent commendation and upon hearing of it from the girl’s father and his acquaintance, Viscount Whitaker, Baron Churston had hurriedly ensured that Miss Martin was immediately taken into his employ. She had, therefore, had to make her way back to London, having only just left it, but made no comment about her tiredness or the difficulties of such a long journey. Instead, she had been nothing but pleasant in her manner and most complimentary of Louisa. If things continued on as they were, then Louisa had no doubt that they would all rub along well enough together for the duration of the Season, and part of her prayed that whatever Miss Martin had done to aid Miss McBride in finding a husband, she might do the same for her.

  Louisa turned her attention back to the full ballroom, feeling a slight pang of sadness over the loss of her dear friend, Miss Grey. “This is to be our first social outing together, is it not?”

  Miss Martin nodded, although a light smile dusted her lips. “It is, indeed,” she replied calmly. “But you need not have any concern that I shall fail in my duties. I know precisely what is required of me.”