Falling for the Mysterious Viscount: A Historical Regency Romance Book

by Bridget Barton

  “Of course, My Lady,” said Samuel, smiling. “It would be our pleasure.”

  Lady Beaumont left. Lavinia turned to Mr St Clair, staring at him curiously. He was not speaking much, continually turning to the croquet pitch to watch Sophie and the gentleman she was playing with. And his expression was almost grim.

  She took a deep breath. Should she say something to him, to facilitate whatever might be happening between him and her sister?

  “Do you play croquet, Mr St Clair?” she asked.

  He turned back to her, frowning slightly. “A little. Why do you ask, Miss Beaumont?”

  “You just seem very interested in the game,” she said slowly. “Or is it perhaps my sister that keeps your attention riveted?”

  His mouth dropped open. He obviously hadn’t expected her to be so direct and didn’t quite know how to respond.

  “I believe that my sister’s regard and affection for you is growing,” she continued. “But you must make your own regard for her plain, Mr St Clair. Tell her that you admire her. I believe that she would disregard her interest in making a perfect match, in the eyes of society, for true love if she knew it was indeed real …”

  Both men were staring at her, now. They looked shocked at her bluntness. For a moment, Lavinia felt doubt. Should she have interfered, speaking so plainly? It went against all the dictates of good manners, to speak in such a way.

  But suddenly, Walter’s face cleared. He looked hopeful, leaning towards her eagerly.

  “Thank you, Miss Beaumont,” he said slowly. “I did not realise that my admiration for your sister was quite so transparent … but it is real, and it is true.” He hesitated. “Do you truly believe that she regards me favourably? I cannot believe that a woman so fine would ever deign to take a man like me seriously.”

  “She does like you,” said Lavinia, her face solemn. “But she is struggling with it. She has very fixed ideas about potential suitors. I think that with some persuasion that your affection is genuine, she might overcome those prejudices. You should try, Mr St Clair. That is my advice.”

  He nodded, his face almost radiant. “You are her dear sister, and know her better than anyone,” he said quietly. “If you tell me that I may have a chance to win her, then I shall indeed try. A small chance is better than none, after all, is it not?”

  “Indeed it is,” said Samuel, smiling broadly. “I think that you should brush off your croquet skills, old chap.”

  Walter nodded eagerly. “It has been an age since I played the game, but I do believe that it will all come back to me, in the moment.” He stood up. “I may join the party.”

  Lavinia gazed up at him. “Remember, just be yourself. I know that she likes you. That is all that you need to do …”

  Walter grinned. “Thank you, Miss Beaumont. Thank you!”

  He took off, across the lawn, toward the croquet pitch. Lavinia watched as he approached, greeting Sophie. Her sister turned, her face wreathed in smiles. She was obviously happy to see him. Within minutes, they were chatting, both oblivious to Lord Livingston, who was glaring at them from the sidelines.

  “You have many hidden talents, Miss Beaumont,” said Samuel, turning to her. “I did not realise that you were a matchmaker, in addition to everything else.”

  Lavinia blushed. “I am no matchmaker, Mr Hunter. I am merely an interested onlooker, who thinks it would be such a shame if an obvious affection was left to wither on the vine, for lack of encouragement.”

  He nodded. “You truly believe that your sister may take my friend seriously?”

  She looked back at the croquet game. Walter St Clair had joined in, now, following Sophie. They were still chatting and laughing, their heads bent towards each other in an almost conspiratorial way. It was very obvious that they had eyes only for each other. Lord Livingston was almost glowering on the sidelines.

  “Only a week ago, my sister would not have even entertained your friend,” she replied slowly. “And now, she is talking and laughing with him, while a potential suitor, who on the surface seems to be everything she claims to desire, is being ignored. I think that shows you that it is truly possible that my sister is taking your friend very seriously indeed, Mr Hunter.”

  “I am glad,” he replied, looking pensive. “Walter deserves a fine lady but has always despaired that he would never have the chance to woo one because of his situation.” He hesitated. “My friend is genuine, Miss Beaumont. He is one of nature’s true gentlemen, even if he does not have wealth or title.”

  Lavinia gazed at him. His affection for his friend was obvious. It was just another example of what a gentleman he was, as well, despite his own lack of wealth and title.

  “I think you and Mr St Clair are two peas in a pod, in that regard,” she said, a little breathlessly. “You do not have wealth or title, either, and yet you are one of the most genuine gentlemen that I have ever met …”

  His face changed a little, at her words. Almost as if a shadow passed over it. He turned away, abruptly, staring over the lawn. He looked troubled.

  “Mr Hunter?” she said, frowning. “Are you well?”

  He gazed back at her, and suddenly, the shadow had passed, almost as quickly as it had arrived.

  Maybe she had imagined it. He was amiable, again, leaning towards her intently.

  Chapter 15

  Samuel gazed at her steadily. She looked so beautiful, sitting there, sipping her tea in the late afternoon sunshine.

  His heart had leapt, of course, when he had spotted her here, sitting with her mother. He had secretly hoped that she would be in attendance. Lord and Lady Hudson’s picnic was one of the key social events of the week, after all. He had known that many of the ton would be here enjoying the summer while they still could, before the season ended, and they returned to their country estates.

  In the days since he had last seen her, at the Royal Academy of the Arts, he had pondered what social events to attend, to maximise his chance of running into her again. Constantly, she had been on his mind. So much so, that he was toying with the idea of calling on her directly, at her family’s townhouse.

  He had resisted. He wasn’t quite sure, yet, whether she would welcome such a bold move. Would she think that he was rushing her? He thought that she felt the same way that he did, but he wasn’t sure. He needed to be very, very careful, in his pursuit.

  But now, watching her, he knew he couldn’t wait any longer. He must reveal himself and tell her everything that he felt for her before it was too late.

  She had shocked him with her bold declaration that Walter should tell her older sister how he felt about her. His friend had been too obvious in his jealousy; it had been plain how much his nose was out of joint, watching Sophie with the other gentleman. Everyone had noticed. But the fact that Lavinia had actually said something about it was bold, indeed.

  She wasn’t like all the other ladies. He had thought so, many times before, and this just proved it further. She wasn’t afraid to speak her mind, and her candour was breathtaking.

  And she had alluded, once again, to the supposed fact of his own lack of wealth and title. To the fact that she didn’t care one jot about it.

  He took a deep breath. He must tell her the truth, now. Before it went any further.

  “You look radiant in the sunshine, Miss Beaumont,” he said quietly.

  She blushed slightly. “You are too kind, Mr Hunter …”

  “No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Kindness has nothing to do with it. It is the honest truth.” He took a deep breath. “You must know how much I admire you. You advised my friend to state his affection for your sister plainly. Do you think that all affections should be stated as plainly?”

  She sighed. “I value people who are forthright, Mr Hunter. I value people who do not play games, and speak honestly …”

  A shudder went through him at her words. How was she going to react when he told her that he wasn’t Samuel Hunter, but the Viscount Pemberton? But he knew he had to
stop obsessing about it, now. He just had to do it, and try to limit the damage, as much as possible. To tell her all that was in his heart, as well, so that she knew he was genuine in that regard, at least.

  “There is something that I must tell you,” he said earnestly, leaning towards her.

  Her eyes widened. “What is it, Mr Hunter?”

  He took a deep, calming breath. His heart was racing, now.

  “I have a deep regard for you,” he said, in a low voice. “I think you must know how much I esteem you, Miss Beaumont.” He hesitated. “But before I can declare anything, I must be completely honest with you, about who I am …”

  A shadow passed over the table. They both looked up. A young lady was standing there, gazing at them both in a speculative manner. A young lady, who he had met many times before, and knew exactly who he was.

  Her name was Miss Emily Munro. He had known her during his past London seasons, many years ago now. The daughter of a wealthy landowner, she was very popular on the social scene. But he had heard that she spent most of her time at her family’s country estate, now, and had not anticipated running into her again.

  His blood froze, staring at her, appalled. No, it could not be happening, now. Not at this moment when he was so close to telling Lavinia the truth.

  The lady smiled. She was almost beaming.

  “I thought that it was you!” she declared. “I was wandering over the lawn, with Giles, and saw you sitting here.” She paused, her eyes wide. “But I could not quite believe it! You have not been in London for the seasons in so long …”

  “Miss Munro,” he said, standing up quickly, his heart racing hard. How could he get rid of her before she revealed who he was without being insufferably rude?

  It was his hesitation which was his undoing. While he stood there, in an agony of doubt, Miss Emily Munro took it upon herself to sit down at the table, next to Lavinia, who was staring at her curiously.

  “What are you doing, My Lord?” The lady gazed up at him intently. “You look like you are about to have an apoplexy …”

  Sickeningly, his eyes were drawn to Lavinia.

  Her smile had frozen. She stared at the other lady incredulously for a moment before gazing up at him.

  “Lord?” she said, in a small voice. “I do not understand …”

  “Do you not?” asked Emily, gazing at her with an amused glint in her eyes. “How can you not be aware, my dear, that you are in the company of the Viscount Pemberton?”

  Lavinia paled. “The Viscount Pemberton?”

  Emily laughed, tossing her head back. “Oh, this is quite a lark, is it not? My Lord, what game are you playing at, not to reveal who you are to this young lady, when you were sitting here chatting with her so intently?” She gazed up at him, touching him lightly on the arm. “It is not like you to play your cards so close to your chest, my dear.”

  Samuel sank back down into the seat. He was so stunned that he simply couldn’t think of a word to say.

  He didn’t want to look at Lavinia. He didn’t want to see the shocked look of hurt that would surely be there.

  “No, I was not aware,” said Lavinia, in a small voice. “I was not aware that I was conversing with the Viscount Pemberton …”

  She turned to look at him. He gazed back at her. There was confusion in her eyes and pain. And he still couldn’t think of a single thing to say, to explain himself to her.

  But he had to say something. He couldn’t just sit here, with it all out in the open, without giving her some explanation as to why he had done what he had.

  Miss Emily Munro was staring at him, too. There was a curious expression on her face – almost smug, with satisfaction, as if she had exposed him in some way. He was very well aware that she had designs on him – in the times when they had conversed in the past she had flirted outrageously, and dropped not so subtle hints about how she would make a wonderful viscountess.

  She was like so many of the other young ladies that he had encountered in the past. The ones who had pursued him because of his title. He had felt very little connection with her, on a personal level. He knew that others considered her a great beauty, with her doll like figure and golden ringlets. But she had always left him cold.

  He forced a smile onto his face. He must do this, now, before it was all too late.

  “I have been acting the part of a commoner,” he said slowly. “It was a notion that I conceived, back in Nottinghamshire, on my country estate. I did it so that I could enjoy the London season without the weight of expectation upon me that I usually have.” He took a deep breath. “It has depressed me, in the past, having young ladies pursuing me for my wealth and title alone, you see. I meant no harm in it …”

  Emily gasped, clapping her hands to her face, in pure glee.

  “Why, it is like a real life game of charades!” she declared. “I think it very amusing! You are very naughty though, My Lord, to deprive all of us young ladies of the pleasure of conversing with you as the Viscount Pemberton.”

  Samuel gazed at Lavinia, trying to gauge her reaction. She was very pale; she had turned to Emily, her eyes wide, listening to her intently.

  Please, look at me, he willed. Lavinia, my love …

  But she did not. Her eyes were fixed on the other woman’s face.

  Emily turned to her, now, gazing back at her, in a coldly speculative manner.

  “Our mutual friend has been most remiss,” she said crisply. “My name is Miss Emily Munro, madam. And you are?”

  “I am Miss Lavinia Beaumont,” she replied faintly.

  “Well, Miss Beaumont,” continued Emily, her eyes hard. “Perhaps I am wrong, though. It seems that our mutual friend has managed to still enthral you, even though you had no idea of his title!” She tittered, behind her hand, as if she had just made a great joke.

  Lavinia abruptly stood up. She looked disoriented.

  “Please, excuse me,” she whispered. “I find that I suddenly need to be alone. I might go for a short walk. It was delightful to meet you, Miss Munro.”

  “And you, Miss Beaumont,” said the other woman, inclining her head slightly. “Enjoy your walk. There are many delightful paths in these gardens …”

  Lavinia nodded, walking quickly away across the lawn.

  Samuel watched her go. His heart was so heavy; he could not bear it.

  Everything was ruined. He had been close – so very close – to finally telling her who he really was. He had been intending to lay it all at her feet, to beg her forgiveness, and tell her that he loved her. To tell her that there was no other woman in the world for him. That there could never be another woman in the world, who could ever compare to her.

  “Are you quite well, My Lord?” Emily’s voice had an amused ring to it.

  He stared at the other woman. She knew what she had done. He could see it in her eyes. Somehow, she had intuited his regard for Lavinia, and she had wanted to crush it.

  That was why she had cruelly mocked her, insinuating that Lavinia had no compunction about associating with commoners. And it was why she had touched him, in an almost intimate manner, and called him her dear.

  He kept staring at her with cold dislike. He had never liked her, and he liked her even less now. She was a shameless gold digger, with no strength of character. He couldn’t believe that he had ever associated with the likes of her in the past. It just showed how empty his life had been … before he had met Lavinia.