The Viscount Deception: A Sweet Regency Romance Adventure (Mayfair Mayhem Book 3)

by Wendy May Andrews

  The Viscount Deception

  Wendy May Andrews

  ∞∞∞

  Sparrow Ink

  www.sparrowdeck.com

  Copyright © 2019 Wendy May Andrews

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

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

  ISBN - 978-1-989634-00-4

  www.wendymayandrews.com

  Sparks fly. Will they burn bridges or warm hearts?

  After almost becoming a pawn in a villain's schemes, Lady Anne is firming her backbone and grasping independence. But that doesn't change the fact that she needs to make an advantageous marriage to pull her family out of destitution.

  Confirmed bachelor, Wesley Dunbar, Viscount of Bracondale, is furious when he learns of her involvement in the plot against his best friend. But he's also mesmerized by Anne's transformation from a country duckling to a fierce and beautiful swan.

  Wesley and Anne's ambitions couldn't be more different, so why can't they stay away from each other? Will they both be able to find what they seek by mending their differences and standing side-by-side?

  Dedication

  In this series Anne changes and grows more than any other character I’ve ever written, in my opinion. She realized she was on the wrong path and made adjustments. I think we all do this even more often than we realize. But when we’re in the middle of it, it’s tough. If you’re in the midst of your own metamorphosis, this book is for you. May it give you a short break from your tough struggles and may it give you hope that you, too, will get to your happily ever after.

  Acknowledgements

  My beta readers are my support team and their help is invaluable! Thank you Marlene, Suzanne, Monique, Alfred, and Christina. I don’t think I could do it without you.

  My editor, Julie Sherwood, is a dream to work with. She tightens up my stories and fixes my blunders. Any mistakes remaining in the manuscript are my own.

  This gorgeous cover was created by the skilled Josephine Blake of JB Designs.

  A book cannot be complete without an acknowledgement to my husband. Without him I wouldn’t even be on this journey. His dare made me write that first book and his support keeps me at my keyboard.

  Chapter One

  Watching the young woman circle the room in the arms of some aristocratic gentleman whose name he could not at the moment recall caused Wesley’s ire to rise at an unreasonable rate. He knew he shouldn’t feel so angry with her. She was just like nearly every other young woman in attendance. But unlike the other young women in attendance, she had tried to entrap his best friend into marriage so an amoral villain could gain control of the young duke. And that fact was what had Wesley so uncharacteristically angry.

  As he stood on the side lines of the dance floor watching the debutantes and dandies, it crossed Wesley’s mind that he really ought to leave. Feeling as he did, he doubted he would be able to make socially acceptable conversation that evening. Just as he was thinking that, as luck would have it, Lady Anne and her dance partner came to a stop right in front of him as the music slowed to silence momentarily. Wesley gritted his teeth and forced himself to smile politely as they bowed and curtsied to one another.

  As the small orchestra struck up the next number, Wesley was shocked to hear his own voice asking, “Might I have the honour of this dance, my lady?”

  The young woman nearly simpered as she dipped into a curtsy to him and accepted his proffered hand. “I would be delighted, my lord.”

  Wesley had to fight not to roll his eyes. He really wanted to walk away without dancing with her. He could not for the life of him fathom what had come over him to ask the wench to dance. He doubted it were within his power to be civil for the required four or five minutes that he would have to be in her company. Because, of course, it was not a country dance that would have given them breaks from each other as the steps were performed. No, it was a minuet. He would be stuck with the chit in his arms for a minimum of four minutes. He would have cheerfully lopped off his tongue in that moment if it would allow him to take back his impulsive words.

  Wracking his brain for something innocuous to discuss, Wesley was at a loss when Lady Anne surprised him by asking the last thing he would have expected her to bring up. “Have you spoken to either Miss Smythe or the Duke of Wrentham?”

  Wesley felt his hands tighten on her and saw the flicker of alarm cross her features. He could tell she was nervous. The young woman usually gave the appearance of a mouse. And while she still looked timid, he could see she was making every effort not to quail under what he was certain was a rather fierce glare from him.

  Striving for a steady tone, Wesley asked, “Why would you ask me that?”

  “Miss Smythe was one of the few women who seemed genuinely friendly towards me since I have come up to London with my father for the Season, so I wish her all the best. I do not know any details, but from something my father said to me, I know that she has encountered a bit of difficulty. I feel that I am somehow involved because of my father and his associate, so I thought to ask you if you know anything.”

  Wesley was struck with a torrent of conflicting feelings. He was quite aware the nervous young lady was making an effort to be brave, and a small part of him wanted to applaud her attempt. But the rest of him was furious that she would even dare to bring it up. She had brought a threat to two of his dearest friends, and that was not something he would readily forgive.

  He heard the iciness in his tone and had no regrets as he answered her. “I have absolutely no desire to discuss this particular topic with you, my lady.”

  Her blue gaze dropped from his for a moment as a not unbecoming blush spread across her features. The viscount watched with a measure of appreciation as she took a deep breath and stunned him once again by meeting his eyes valiantly and baldly asking, “Why not?” There was an infinitesimal pause before she added, Wesley suspected sarcastically, “my lord.”

  Now he had to fight the urge to laugh at her obvious irritation. It was like watching a kitten getting mad at a guard dog. “Considering that any trouble my friends might be facing at the moment arrived at their doorstep via an association with you, I do not think you have any right to information about them at this juncture.” Wesley could hear just how pompous he sounded but found he didn’t care in the least. He waited to see how she would react to his statement.

  Again, her eyes shifted away guiltily, and her cheeks maintained their high colour. He suspected she was wishing herself elsewhere, but she did not cave in. After another deep breath, she again dragged her gaze back to meet his, valiantly attempting to maintain her composure. “I am not in the custom of contradicting gentlemen, even when they are wrong, but I find that I shall have to make an exception this time, my lord.”

  Her tone was so shy and nervous that Wesley almost missed the meaning of her words. Swallowing a chuckle that threatened to emerge over her effrontery, Wesley forced himself to stare coldly into her timid blue gaze. “Was that convoluted statement supposed to mean that you think I am wrong?”

  Watching her swallow nervously but hold his gaze while she nodded, Wesley began to feel like a bully for confronting her, but he was not yet prepared to back down from h
is position.

  “I hardly think you are in any position to correct me, my lady. As you said, because of your father and his associate and their use of you to further their ends, trouble found my friends. I think you ought to leave it at that and be relieved that you have been preserved from feeling any consequences.”

  Wesley felt his first inkling of concern in that moment as her eyes flared with what he would have thought was anger on someone else, but he doubted the mousy Lady Anne ever felt anything that fierce in her life.

  “You know nothing of my life, my lord. But you are quite correct. I am not in any position to censure you. Please forget that I asked, and let us merely enjoy the last moments of this lovely dance.”

  Contrarily, her mild acceptance of his refusal made Wesley want to discuss the matter further. Recognizing the musicians were bringing the minuet to a close, Wesley did the unthinkable. Bowing to his partner, he kept a firm hold on her hand. “Please, allow me to escort you to the refreshment room.”

  ~~~

  Anne gazed at him in amazement. The irritating man had just seconds prior appeared to heartily wish to be rid of her. Now, he seemed eager to prolong their interlude. Shaking her head, Anne once again arrived at the conclusion that men were irrational creatures. She tried to tug her hand from his grasp, but his grip was firm. “I am perfectly fine on my own, thank you, my lord.” She tried to make her tone severe but doubted she had succeeded when he merely graced her with a benign smile and tucked her hand in his elbow.

  Not wishing to draw attention to herself, Anne was forced to allow the insufferable man to keep her at his side. She knew she ought to be grateful. If word of the situation she had been trying to discuss with him ever got out, the fact that she had been seen in his company would help dispel any rumours of her involvement. She knew the ton would not suspect her of any involvement if Lord Dunbar, the Viscount of Bracondale, was seen as being friendly with her. It was well known amongst the ton how deep the friendship of the Viscount of Bracondale and the Duke of Wrentham went. She tried not to be jealous. She would love to have that kind of friendship with someone. Or anyone. Of course, she had her dog, she reminded herself with a stab of homesickness. She missed the hairy sheepdog and wished she had been able to bring him to London, but her aunt wouldn’t have allowed the hairy dog into the house. Too, Anne missed the lovely, loyal servants who remained on their rundown estate despite the irregularity of their wages.

  She hadn’t meant to let it out, but her soft sigh must have been audible as the viscount turned his sharp gaze on her. “Am I walking too fast for you, my lady?” She didn’t trust his solicitous tone but answered him truthfully nonetheless. “My thoughts were elsewhere, my lord. I am perfectly able to keep up. Have no fear.”

  Anne almost smiled over the quizzical glance he cast her way before continuing toward the punch bowl. She remained at his side while they each accepted a glass of punch from the attentive servant. Just as she was about to take a sip, she felt the viscount tug her toward a vacant alcove. She was glad she hadn’t managed to swallow anything as she would have no doubt choked with surprise as he said, “Let us take a seat over there for a moment.”

  “Whatever for, my lord? Surely you wish to be rid of me at the earliest opportunity.” She pointed out what she thought was a reasonable statement.

  “Not at all, my dear. Why would you say something so preposterous?”

  Now, Anne actually felt genuine amusement for the first time in longer than she wished to remember, days at least, if not weeks. “Because you refused to answer the one question I most want to have answered. And your explanation for said refusal left little doubt in my mind that you have no wish to prolong your association with me.”

  Despite her discomfort, Anne could not hold her tongue. It was most unusual for her. She was used to being silent and keeping her few thoughts to herself. The Viscount of Bracondale had a most distressing effect on her. She really ought to insist that he allow her to return to the ballroom. Her intent must have been written upon her features because just as she was about to turn away from the chairs he was clearly guiding her toward, she felt the viscount’s grasp tighten upon her elbow.

  “Please, my lady, might I have just a few more minutes of your time?”

  Anne found that she could not resist when the handsome lord turned such a sincere look upon her. She was quite certain the sincerity was feigned, but she allowed him to guide her to the seat he had indicated.

  Gazing at him while she sipped her punch, Anne could see the hard look return to the viscount’s face. She stifled another sigh. She should have known this was not going to be a pleasant interlude. A wave of longing for the simple life she had led with her father on their decaying estate swept through her, but she hurried to suppress the melancholy thoughts. As her father had pointed out to her, the estate was about to fall down around their ears. She had little hope of returning there. If she did not manage to contract an advantageous marriage, she was going to have to throw herself upon the charity of her relatives in order to have a roof over her head.

  She really ought to be making an effort to turn the viscount up sweet. Rumour had it he was one of the wealthiest of the aristocratic bachelors. But looking into his cold, hard face, Anne could not muster any enthusiasm for the thought.

  Looking around the room at the other milling guests, Anne tried to push all concerned thoughts from her mind and merely waited to hear what the viscount might next have to say.

  ~~~

  “How can you sit there as though you have not a care in the world, my lady?” Wesley heard the exasperation in his tone but didn’t care. He could not understand this woman in the least. Either she was a simpleton or she was a renowned actress. Neither was an acceptable option.

  He watched in surprise as another delicate blush rose in her cheeks, but she lifted one shoulder in a negligent shrug. “I do not choose to acknowledge my cares while I am in public, my lord. It really would not be polite to have a fit of hysterics in the middle of a ball.”

  At this, Wesley lost control of his amusement and actually chuckled at her words, causing a few heads to turn and regard them curiously. He watched in fascination as the colour in her cheeks disappeared for a brief moment and then flooded back darker than before.

  “My lord!” Her tone was scolding, but she said nothing else, merely gazing at him with a mixture of horror and fascination.

  Wesley’s laughter disappeared and they sat there in silence regarding each other seriously for a brief moment. He broke the strained silence. “Why do you really want to know about Alex and Rose?”

  “I told you, my lord, I am concerned for Miss Smythe. I know there is nothing I could possibly do to help either of them, but I was actually hoping for reassurance that they shall be fine.”

  Her eyes didn’t quite meet his, so Wesley doubted she was telling him the entire truth. He decided to probe the subject further. He could see that she was uncomfortable being in his presence and hoped that would prompt her to reveal something she would have otherwise kept to herself.

  “What do you know of their situation?” he prompted.

  “Very little, my lord. I really have no wish to discuss this with you. Could you just, please, tell me if Miss Smythe is all right?”

  Wesley resisted the prodding of his conscience and his twenty-eight years of training as a gentleman. “I really do not feel as though I ought to tell you anything, my lady.”

  “Then why did you bother to prolong our time together?” Despite her obvious discomfort, she did not resist questioning him.

  Wesley rewarded her flash of bravery with honesty. “I really have no idea. I am intensely angry with you for the trouble you brought upon them. It is the first time in my life that I have ever felt this way about a lady, and I do not know quite how to handle it.”

  He was surprised to see her blinking at him as though he had lost his mind. There was another brief silence before his surprise deepened when she spoke. “As I said before,
my lord, I hesitate to contradict you, but I did not bring the trouble upon them. I may have been briefly a tool involved in this trouble, but I do believe Miss Smythe brought the trouble upon herself by getting involved in a matter that was not actually any of her business.” There was another pause as she appeared to gather her composure and courage before continuing. “Now, would you please tell me if they are all right?”

  Wesley regarded the female in front of him as though she were a curiosity at the fair. He could not make sense of her. It was obvious to him that she was terrified, but she refused to cower. He felt a kernel of respect start to germinate in his chest but shoved that to the back of his mind.

  He decided he’d had enough of this particular conversation. He really ought not to have made any attempt to talk to the woman while he was unable to completely control his fuming anger. He took note of the fact that she had finished her glass of punch. He stood abruptly and grabbed her hand, pulling her to her feet beside him and curling her hand around his elbow.

  “They shall be just fine,” he finally answered curtly. “Now, shall I return you to the ball room?”

  He felt her intent gaze burning into the side of his head, but he refused to meet her eyes, merely guiding her through the throngs of people as they headed in the direction of the music.

  ~~~

  Before she quite knew what was happening, the viscount was bowing over her hand and taking his leave of her.

  Anne felt almost bereft as the viscount walked away, which was ridiculous considering how haughtily he had treated her. She felt a crease of worry forming between her brows as she gazed at his retreating back. This would just not do. Smoothing the frown away with effort, Anne forced her thoughts to pleasant ones and her eyes back to the dance floor as another young man came to ask her to dance. With relief, she took his hand and stepped into the lively quadrille.