The Viscount's Wayward Son: A Regency Romance (Ladies of the North Book 2) Read online

  Contents

  Also By Isabella Thorne

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  The Viscount’s Wayward Son

  I. Forgotten Memories

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  II. An Indecent Proposal

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  III. A Lady’s Choice

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  IV. Promises Remembered

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  Don’t Miss The Duke’s Winter Promise

  Sneak Peek of Winning Lady Jane

  Chapter 1

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  Also By Isabella Thorne

  Also By Isabella Thorne

  The Ladies of Bath

  Winning Lady Jane ~ A Christmas Regency Romance

  The Duke’s Daughter ~ Lady Amelia Atherton

  The Baron in Bath ~ Miss Julia Bellevue

  The Deceptive Earl ~ Lady Charity Abernathy

  The Ladies of the North

  The Duke’s Winter Promise ~ A Christmas Regency Romance

  The Viscount’s Wayward Son

  The Hawthorne Sisters

  The Forbidden Valentine ~ Lady Eleanor

  The Baggington Sisters

  The Countess and the Baron ~ Prudence

  Almost Promised ~ Temperance

  The Healing Heart ~ Mercy

  The Lady to Match a Rogue ~ Faith

  Nettlefold Chronicles

  Not Quite a Lady; Not Quite a Knight

  Stitched in Love

  Other Novels by Isabella Thorne

  The Mad Heiress and the Duke ~ Miss Georgette Quinby

  The Duke’s Wicked Wager ~ Lady Evelyn Evering

  Short Stories by Isabella Thorne

  Love Springs Anew

  The Mad Heiress' Cousin and the Hunt

  Mischief, Mayhem and Murder: A Marquess of Evermont

  Mistletoe and Masquerade ~ 2-in-1 Short Story Collection

  Colonial Cressida and the Secret Duke ~ A Short Story

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  The Viscount’s Wayward Son

  A Regency Romance

  All rights reserved.

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

  The Viscount’s Wayward Son © 2020 by Isabella Thorne

  Cover Art by Mary Lepiane

  2020 Mikita Associates Publishing

  Published in the United States of America.

  www.isabellathorne.com

  1

  The grand ball was truly a sight to behold. The polished walnut balustrade of the entrance hall was decorated with carvings of cherubs adorned in leafy attire, strategically placed. Marble pillars towered over the ballroom and mantels filled with what must be priceless statues lined the walls. Miss Anne Albright speculated at the time and care and, of course, the coin that hosting such an event must cost.

  Her father was a viscount and a respectable gentleman, though she still felt like a country bumpkin as she gazed up at yet another manor which put her own home in a class beneath it. With every event Anne attended in London, she felt more and more an imposter amongst the grand persons in attendance. She feared at any moment someone may notice that she didn’t belong, and she would turn into a pumpkin. The notion was entirely ridiculous.

  As the eldest daughter of the Viscount Aldbrick, Anne was not accustomed to such finery, but neither was she common. She had traveled to London with the newly made Duchess of Bramblewood, Emily Burgess, and was currently staying with her. Anne had visited with Emily several times in the past. The pair of young ladies were great friends; at least they had been before Emily’s marriage to the duke.

  Anne swallowed and attempted to banish these maudlin thoughts. She and Emily had been friends since they were barely old enough to toddle. The pair of young ladies had attended finishing school together, so Anne knew that she shouldn’t feel awkward, but she still did. Emily’s mother was her chaperone this season, and she liked Emily’s mother well enough, but Lady Kentleworth was not her mother.

  Anne had been most excited when Emily had invited her to Town for a visit and for the opening of Bramblewood’s London home. Anne and Emily had gone on several whirlwind shopping trips for the house, while Alexander, Emily’s new husband, the young duke, fulfilled his parliamentary duties.

  Alexander’s father had not been much for Town, and even less for Parliament, especially after the death of Alexander’s mother. The large house in Mayfair had been left empty, or let out to other nobles for years. Now, Alexander and his young bride were in residence for the season. Anne was privileged to join them, along with her younger sister Eliza and several servants from Bramblewood.

  Lady Kentleworth agreed to chaperone the Albright sisters, spending most of her time with them at her daughter’s new London house rather than her own Mayfair residence where Lord Kentleworth resided. The duke’s grand edifice was an empty hall in desperate need of a woman’s touch. Anne felt comfortable making suggestions to Emily about the decorations. Together the women had spent weeks preparing the house.

  Alexander’s father, the late duke had a terrible reputation and Alexander was only now starting to redeem his family’s name. As the new duchess, Emily wanted to make a good impression at the first major event she hosted. She was nervous, but Anne had calmed her like the good friend she was, and the ball went off without a hitch. It was a great success and the Ton had nothing but good things to say about the new Duchess of Bramblewood.

  Anne remembered the Bramblewood ballroom filled with important people dressed in royal finery and attempted to recapture the feeling of that first wondrous evening, but the pleasant sensation slipped away. That night, she had been with her best friend. Emily had wanted Anne by her side, and she rarely left it except to dance a few dances with the young duke, and Emily’s brother, Edmund Ingram. The thought of Edmund brought a smile to Anne’s lips.

  Now, she scanned Lord Northrup’s ballroom searching for him. Edmund was as much a friend to the duke as Anne was to Emily. When they were younger the four of them had been nearly inseparable.

  That first evening, Edmund and his father, the Viscount Kentleworth, had been solicitous, bringing all manner of gentry to Emily and Anne for introductions. Even though important people surrounded her, Anne felt ste
ady with her friends at her side.

  Then, Edmund asked her to dance. She was a bit surprised. He was not the best of dancers, but he was so earnest it was impossible to refuse him. They had danced one of the simpler sets, and at the end of it, he had whirled her out onto the vast balcony, overlooking the garden. Although small, the city garden gave a feeling of the country to the opulent London house.

  It was a place for lovers, but Edmund only held her gloved hand for a moment, before exclaiming about the heat in the ballroom with the crush of people. He turned and looked out at the view.

  “Yes,” Anne agreed, somewhat embarrassed by the romantic turn of her thoughts. It was hot in the ballroom and the outside air was quite welcome. There was the ghost of a breeze. “Your sister is a grand success,” she said.

  He nodded. “Yes, Em is made for this,” he said, “and I am glad for it, but if I have to kowtow to one more of Father’s cronies, I may cast up my accounts.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Anne said, with a giggle.

  “No. I wouldn’t. I shall be a dutiful son and a good brother and stand fast.” He looked at Anne for a moment, his bright green eyes sparkling, and her heart did a strange flip flop.

  “Thank you for the dance,” Edmund said at last. “I thought it would look odd if the brother of the new duchess failed to dance at all, and I knew you wouldn’t mind my ineptitude.”

  Anne grinned at him remembering when they were younger and the many hours they spent practicing dancing. Edmund had trod on her toes repeatedly, and on one occasion stepped on the hem of her dress, tearing it unmercifully. Tonight was a marked improvement.

  “Actually, you did rather well.” Anne said with a smile that was only for Edmund.

  Edmund laughed. “You are a sport, putting up with my treading on your toes and not even calling me out for it. Shall we find some refreshment?” He took her arm to lead her back into the ballroom. Anne wondered when her wayward friend had become a gentleman.

  The two of them had spent most of the evening talking and it was almost like old times. After the guests had gone home, the four friends celebrated their success in the drawing room with wine while the servants cleared away the remainder of the food. Alexander had commandeered a plate of meat and cheese and they ate ravenously.

  “I couldn’t eat a bite at dinner,” Emily admitted. “I was too nervous.”

  Anne nodded, thinking she had felt the same. Now, with all pretense stripped away, they were just four friends sharing a good time, until Alexander leaned in to whisper something in Emily’s ear. She blushed, turning her face up to his. They did not kiss, but the heat was palpable. Anne felt suddenly uncomfortable.

  “It is late; we should retire,” Anne suggested, and Emily agreed, her eyes shining with love for her new husband.

  Edmund snatched a last bite of roast pork and Alexander called a footman to clear away the rest. Emily and Alexander retired for the night, but Edmund and Anne stood awkwardly on the landing. The silence seemed to grow and stretch between them. Then, Edmund had cleared his throat and mumbled, “Goodnight,” turning away.

  Anne had not seen Edmund since that night although she knew he was still in Town.

  Every event she searched for him only to find he was once again absent. She took a deep breath and attempted to cultivate her normal devil-may-care attitude. She would enjoy herself. She would.

  The Lord and Lady Northrup knew how to host an event. The ballroom was full to bursting and Anne knew she should appreciate the grand spectacle. Only it was so much easier to relax in the country amongst familiar faces, and there was one familiar face that was lacking in the crowd. She felt his absence keenly and could not help scanning the guests once again in search of Edmund’s teasing smile. She could not help but feel melancholy when she confirmed his absence.

  “Whatever am I doing?” She muttered to herself in disgust. She was pining after him.

  “I beg your pardon, Miss?”

  Anne looked up in some consternation as a footman addressed her, only to realize that quite by accident, she had spoken aloud. It was no wonder the man seemed confused as he stood next to her, a silver tray held in his gloved hands.

  “Oh…Nothing, I’m sure. I beg your pardon.” Cheeks burning, Anne lifted a glass of wine carefully from the offered tray and raised it to her lips, thankful for the refreshment. The footman moved on, serving other guests.

  Anne looked for her sister, Eliza and found her across the room, flushed and dancing. That is what she should be doing, Anne thought. But no one had asked her. Sweet heavens? Was she becoming a wallflower? Surely not. She should find Emily, not stand in the corner alone.

  Anne sighed softly as she watched her dearest friend move though the room. The new Duchess of Bramblewood was in her element. Emily always had the right smile or soft word for each person she met. She seemed to have an instinctive feel for the ranks of every individual in the room, always showing just the right amount of courtesy to leave the other person well-satisfied as she moved on to the next acquaintance. A ball of this sort always had several important personages upon the guest list. Most were far more concerned with meeting a duchess than a country viscount’s daughter, like Anne.

  She had never before minded her country roots, but Emily’s marriage had catapulted her friend into an entirely new circle from which Anne felt exempt. She wished vainly for another female friend, someone fun. Even Henrietta would be welcome, but the lady had returned to Scotland with her new husband, Mr. Eldridge.

  It seemed everyone was now married and far too busy to bother with their old friend. Everything had changed. Emily had Alexander, and although their foursome had always included Emily’s brother, Edmund, he had barely shown himself in the past weeks. Even if he had done, Anne could not dance more than two dances with him at a single event, not without causing talk. It just was not done.

  Flustered, she turned her attention back to the wine glass in her hand. Another sip gave her something to do. Emily would return soon. Maybe. She seemed much taken with her husband. Anne caught sight of her beside Alexander and considered the couple from afar, wondering what it must be like to have a husband. Someone with whom one could confide, to lean on when things became difficult. To smile with the way Emily was smiling now.

  You must cease in these silly daydreams and focus on the matter at hand, Anne told herself. Do not moon over someone else’s relationship, but rather spend more time building your own.

  The voice in her head sounded an awful lot like Emily’s mother. Perhaps, that was because Lady Kentleworth, as the Albright girls’ chaperone, had expressed a similar sentiment earlier this evening. Anne let her gaze move over the room, noting the gentlemen she already knew or at least had heard of, considering each for a possible match. To her surprise, she could name quite a few. If there was one thing Anne was skilled at, it was putting a name to a face. A useful skill, perhaps, especially when coupled with the ability to remember the small details, such as who was already married, to whom, and whether or not the man in question had a fortune or a scandal attached to his name.

  Anne found herself relaxing as she considered each man as if playing a game with herself. The gentlemen were less intimidating when laid out in such base terms. Was she mercenary? No. She decided she was merely being careful. Too many of the men within the room were simply not appropriate for her needs. She wished she could speak with Emily or even her sister, Eliza, to ask their opinions, but Eliza was still dancing, and a crowd of countless guests who looked through Anne as though she were not even there surrounded Emily. To the London set, Anne might as well have been invisible; the duchess’ country companion.

  Anne straightened her shoulders. She was a viscount’s daughter and a lady of quality. She was no country cousin.

  As if to reassure herself of that fact, Anne turned to look at herself in the gilded mirror hanging on the wall just behind her. It reflected the candles marvelously, doubling the light in the room.

  For a moment Anne was ca
ught up in the vision of herself, wearing her best blue dress. It was the exact shade to match her eyes and trimmed in the most exquisite lace she had ever owned. Her blonde hair was caught up in a series of ribbons which matched her dress, and seed pearls were nestled in her curls. Her cheeks were pink and healthy, setting off a perfect pale complexion.

  That she knew would change as the weather warmed. It had been a most rainy season and the summer sunshine was still absent. When it appeared, Anne would be hard pressed to avoid it.

  Anne loved being out of doors, riding and even gardening with her sister and mother, although Eliza cringed when Anne touched any but the hardiest of plants. Still, right now, she had no sun-induced freckles on her nose, and no darkening of her skin. She looked like a porcelain doll with her perfectly pale skin and blonde hair. Well, that wasn’t true, she thought. She was certainly no breakable doll. She laughed at the deceptive image. Her blue eyes reflected the dozens of candles used throughout the room to light the ball, and glittered like captive stars. She was most certainly not invisible, at least not physically so. Some would even consider her beautiful. Still, she had no solid prospects, save one, and he was once again, absent.