A Viscount's Second Chance

by Joyce Alec

  A Viscount’s Second Chance

  Hearts and Ever Afters

  Text Copyright © 2017 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, 2017

  Publisher

  Love Light Faith, LLC

  400 NW 7th Avenue, Unit 825

  Fort Lauderdale, FL 33311

  www.LoveLightFaith.com

  Table of Contents

  A Viscount’s Second Chance

  Bonus Content

  Regency Ladies – A Collection of Romances

  Regency Love Stories

  A Viscount’s Second Chance

  Hearts and Ever Afters

  By: Joyce Alec

  Chapter One

  “I am not quite sure about this,” Eleanor murmured as she stepped out of the carriage and looked up at her new home.

  “Now, now,” came the reply, as her companion, Miss Wiltshire, stepped out beside her. An older cousin of Eleanor’s, she had come to live with her almost as soon as Eleanor had wed. She had stayed by Eleanor’s side since the death of her husband a little over a year ago and had been nothing but a support to her. “It is quite proper for you to return to society now that your year of mourning is over.”

  “I know,” Eleanor replied, with a heavy sigh. “But I feel as though every eye is on me. I am quite sure I shall be in tomorrow’s papers or some such thing.”

  Miss Wiltshire chuckled and grasped Eleanor’s arm, so as to hurry her indoors. “You will be just fine, I assure you. After all, it is not as though you were wed to the man for long. To have to mourn him a year is quite ridiculous.”

  But expected, Eleanor thought to herself, as she stepped inside her townhouse, letting the memories flood her.

  She had been there only once before, in the days after their wedding. Her husband, the Earl of Brooke, had been a kind man and twenty years her senior. He had chosen to reside at the townhouse with her for a few days before returning to his country estate.

  Handing her hat and gloves to the waiting butler, Eleanor allowed her mind to run back over the time of her marriage. It had all been set up and agreed to by her father, and Eleanor had not been allowed to even murmur a complaint. It had not mattered that she did not love the earl, nor that she found his age in comparison to hers quite distasteful. All that mattered was that she married well and, being her father’s only child, Eleanor had found herself quite forced into the matter. It was as though she were merely a pawn in her father’s chess game, knowing that he only truly cared about wealth as opposed to her wellbeing. Eleanor was sure that her father had done quite well in the bargain, for the Earl of Brooke had not been a poor man. In fact, he had been quite rich and, having had no children nor any other relatives to speak of, Eleanor now found herself to be something of a wealthy woman.

  However, living in the country, albeit with the company of Miss Wiltshire, had been something of a burden. She had taken her mourning year as she ought, spending her days quietly, but slowly began dreaming of her return to town and of meeting dear friends and acquaintances once more. The Season was only just beginning, and Eleanor hoped that she might begin to allow herself some enjoyment, although she was inclined to worry what society might think of her return to London.

  “Tea in the drawing room, your ladyship?”

  Drawn from her thoughts, Eleanor looked up at her butler and nodded, smiling warmly at him. “Thank you, you are very thoughtful,” she said, seeing his perfectly expressionless face flicker for just a moment. “That would be wonderful.”

  “At once, my lady,” he replied, clicking his heels together and walking away.

  “Your husband employed wonderful staff,” Miss Wiltshire commented, as they walked together towards the drawing room. “They seem to know what you wish before you even ask it.”

  Eleanor nodded. “Indeed, they were all very loyal to him, and I have decided to keep each one in their positions for the time being.”

  Miss Wiltshire preceded her into the drawing room, murmuring something about the warm fire already burning brightly in the grate. It was not the warmest of days, and Eleanor was grateful for the warmth, rubbing her hands together for a moment before seating herself down beside the fire. She had not much memory of this place, other than the few days she had lived there with the earl, although the recollection of her wedding night was one she would rather forget.

  The earl had spent most of his time up in the country out riding, for that was his one passion. Unfortunately, that passion had been his death. She could still remember the day that the groom had been permitted to see her, twisting his cap in his hands. He had been completely drenched by the rain, dripping puddles on the floor, telling her that her husband had been found with a broken neck, the horse standing nearby.

  Apparently, they presumed that he had attempted to jump a hedge, but had not quite managed to keep his seat. There had been talk of doing away with the animal, but Eleanor had forbidden it immediately, aware that it was not the creature’s fault that her husband was now cold in his grave.

  To her shame, she had not felt a great deal of sorrow over the earl’s death. She had never really known him, for they had not often spent time in one another’s company, nor had they conversed together often. She had been grateful he had allowed her to have the company of Miss Wiltshire, an older, distant cousin, for her life would have been quite lonely without her. Eleanor had confessed to Miss Wiltshire her guilt over her lack of grief, but the older lady had reassured her on more than one occasion, that it was quite to be expected. After all, it was not as though Eleanor was mourning someone she had grown close to, someone she had loved, but rather someone who had been more of a stranger than a husband. Still, Eleanor could not rid herself of the deep feeling of guilt over her lack of sadness. She did not dislike the earl; she just did not know him.

  “This is a very fine room,” Miss Wiltshire said, interrupting her flow of thoughts. “Were it not so wet outside, I am quite sure that beautiful sunshine would stream in through these windows.”

  Smiling at Miss Wiltshire, Eleanor let herself relax, the tension draining away. She did not have to worry about her husband any longer, given that she had already had her year of mourning. There was no scandal or any such thing. She would simply return to society as a wealthy widow, and, whilst that would bring whispers enough, she would not have anyone look down on her for her lack of love for her first husband. Nobody knew what went on behind closed doors. Besides, she was still young at only twenty-two years old.

  “When do you intend to walk in Hyde Park?” Miss Wiltshire asked, giving Eleanor something of a knowing look.

  Eleanor shook her head. “Not today, that is for certain. It is raining quite heavily, and I doubt anyone should see me, even if I were to venture out.”

  The only reason Eleanor would walk in Hyde Park was to allow those from society to become aware of her presence in town, for walking during the fashionable hour would bring a great deal of interest from others. In addition, she hoped to rekindle some friendships and acquaintances, which would bring a great deal of joy to her life.

  Company had been something Eleanor had greatly missed, but she was quite sure that in a week or two, she would be throwing herself into all the delights society had to offer. How wonderful it would be to hear an orch
estra striking up a waltz, to be dancing across the floor in a gentleman’s arms.

  A small sigh of expected happiness left her lips.

  “You are going to have to be careful, Eleanor,” Miss Wiltshire warned, as though she had read Eleanor’s thoughts. “You are a wealthy widow now.”

  Frowning, Eleanor considered what Miss Wiltshire meant. “You believe I shall have gentlemen seeking my company simply because I have wealth?”

  “Of course!” Miss Wiltshire exclaimed. “And there are plenty of such gentlemen too, believe me.”

  Eleanor shook her head. “I do not think any such gentlemen will be at the events I attend, Miss Wiltshire.”

  “Ah, but they will,” Miss Wiltshire warned, with a gleam in her eye. “You are young and handsome, and with wealth to match, there will be a great many gentlemen practically lying at your feet. You shall have to watch that you do not lose your heart, Eleanor, for I know how much it calls for love.”

  Knowing that Miss Wiltshire was right, Eleanor tried not to blush, but found it almost impossible. She and Miss Wiltshire were quite in one another’s confidence, and Eleanor had confessed, on more than one occasion, that she often wished her father had not forced her into such a loveless union. Miss Wiltshire had surmised from this, quite rightly of course, that Eleanor did intend to marry again one day, but only if the gentleman in question loved her truly.

  “I do admit that I wish for such a thing, but I am in no hurry,” Eleanor protested, weakly. “I have only just come out of my mourning year, and now that I have more than enough to care for us both for the remainder of our lives, I do not think that I shall marry hastily.”

  “Be careful, my dear,” Miss Wiltshire said again. “There are many scoundrels and rogues underneath the façade of love. Gentlemen know what a lady wishes for, and they will use that to their advantage. Men who have no more than a few shillings to rub together, having thrown away their wealth at the gambling table, are more than inclined to say or do anything in order to achieve their status once more.”

  Her words made Eleanor’s heart sink. How was she to know which gentlemen were such rogues should they begin to pay close attentions to her?

  “I will help you, of course,” Miss Wiltshire continued, as the tea tray arrived. “You may count on my assistance to guide you.”

  Eleanor waited until the maid had left before thanking Miss Wiltshire. “I do want to thank you for your presence here, Miss Wiltshire. I do not know what I would have done without you.”

  The older lady smiled, her blue eyes warming and cheeks dimpling. In truth, Miss Wiltshire was not too old a lady, even with her graying hair. She did not have a great many wrinkles, and her figure was still trim. Eleanor, at times, wondered why Miss Wiltshire had never married, for she was as fine a lady as ever there could be, even with her lack of title. Miss Wiltshire was, in that regard, quite guarded about the past, and Eleanor knew not to pry.

  “I do hope that you will find some enjoyment here in town,” Eleanor continued, pouring the tea. “I would not have you run around after me. You must find something to entertain you.”

  “Oh, I believe I shall be highly entertained,” Miss Wiltshire responded with a laugh. “For who else is to discover the truth about the many gentlemen that will seek your hand? No, indeed, I shall be both useful and discreet, although I will greatly enjoy listening to the orchestra or taking the air at the park, I am quite sure.”

  Eleanor handed Miss Wiltshire her cup and smiled, feeling a little more settled than when she had first arrived. Perhaps things would work out just as they ought and they would both have an enjoyable Season, unhindered by rakish gentlemen who only cared for her fortune and not her heart.

  Chapter Two

  Henry, Viscount Armitage, laughed as he took the last few sovereigns off the table, pocketing them with delight. “It appears that I will increase my fortune this evening, instead of depleting it.”

  Lord Thornley grunted, throwing himself back in his chair. “It seems I am going to have to give you a vowel, Armitage.”

  The smile left Henry’s face immediately. Lord Thornley was well known for writing out vowels, but never paying what he owed.

  “I know you must despise me for being forced to do so, but in truth, I have very little choice,” Thornley wheedled, looking quite forlorn.

  Henry was not in the least bit taken in, knowing that this was all an act Thornley put on to garner sympathy for others. However, such a façade was wearing thin.

  “If you had nothing to play with, then you should not have sat down at the table,” Henry said, gruffly. “I do not like vowels, Thornley, least of all from you.”

  The other gentlemen left the table, evidently unwilling to be caught up in a war of words between the two gentlemen. Henry watched them go, seeing Thornley sigh dramatically once more.

  “I enjoy the game, you see,” he said, softly. “I enjoy it too much.”

  Henry shook his head. “Then you must get better control of yourself.”

  “You are most understanding,” Thornley droned, looking entirely bored. “In truth, my fortunes are so changed that it appears I am going to be forced to marry a lady of wealth.”

  Only just managing to stop his snort of derision, Henry rose from the table, accepting Thornley’s vowel with disapprobation. “I wish you luck, then,” he muttered, intending to walk away from Thornley. “I believe you will need it.”

  Unfortunately, Thornley dogged his footsteps, his loud whining voice continuing to drone towards Henry’s ears. “You do not think me capable of finding such a wife, then?”

  Gritting his teeth, Henry took a breath and tried to calm his growing frustration. “I care very little of what you do, Thornley, just so long as you pay me what you owe.”

  “You think I shall be quite unable to do what I intend,” Thornley continued, his voice growing louder with every word. “How rude you are!”

  Henry, now tired of Thornley’s presence, rounded on the man, making every attempt to keep his own voice low. “Thornley, I doubt you will be able to find a lady with a great fortune to marry you, yes. Once they are aware of your lack of fortune and your inability to keep a hold on your gambling habits, then what on earth could coerce them into matrimony?”

  Thornley smiled a slow lazy smile that told Henry he had allowed the man to push him into incivility, which appeared to be the reaction Thornley desired.

  “Love,” Thornley said, confidently.

  “Love?” Henry scoffed, his temper flying loose. “Do be serious, Thornley.”

  “I am quite serious,” the man replied, calmly. “By the end of the Season, I intend to be betrothed, if not wed, to a woman of great fortune. I should say it will take all of six weeks.”

  Henry did not know how to respond, finding the man’s confidence entirely inexplicable.

  “If I am successful, you will release me from my debt, and pay me twice what I owed,” Thornley continued, his voice now quiet and firm. To Henry’s surprise, he grasped the arm of a passing gentleman, calling on him to bear witness to the gentleman’s agreement.

  “And if you fail?”

  “Then I shall pay you thrice what I already owe,” Thornley said, with the air of someone who was more than confident in what he had planned.

  Growing tired of the man’s conversation and ridiculous ideas, Henry shrugged. “Very well, Thornley, if it will put an end to this conversation, then I agree. You have six weeks.”

  He shook Thornley’s hand and made to turn away, only for the man to grip his hand harder, refusing to release him.

  “And you are not to speak to the lady of what I am about,” Thornley responded, carefully. “Should you do so, then the agreement is forfeit, and you will not only release me from my debt but give me four times as much as what I owe. Your reputation will suffer, even more, than it already has.”

  “I am a gentleman,” Henry stated, hotly. “A gentleman does not deliberately manipulate a situation for his advantage.”

&n
bsp; Thornley grinned, his eyes narrowing just a little and making Henry feel as though Thornley somehow had the upper hand. Releasing Henry’s hand, Thornley stepped back and bowed, seeing Sir Thomas—an older man with slightly graying hair—mutter something about the matter being settled, before leaving the conversation directly.

  Henry was about to turn away when his stomach twisted with a sudden thought. “Do you have your eye on anyone in particular?” he asked, abruptly, taking a step closer to Thornley. “Tell me it is not some old decrepit heiress, someone who will marry you only to die in a few months’ time.”

  “No, it is not,” Thornley said sharply, as though somehow offended by the suggestion. “I do have someone I am considering, however.” A wicked gleam came into his eye, making Henry frown all the more. “A Lady Brooke? She is quite new to town, I believe.”

  A white-hot jolt rushed straight through Henry’s frame pinning him to the floor. He had not heard that Lady Eleanor had returned to town—although she was now Lady Brooke, of course. He had seen her on more than a few occasions a little over two years ago, and he had always thought her quite lovely, although he never plucked up the courage to be introduced to her.

  In truth, he had even imagined courting her, only to hear that she had become betrothed to Lord Brooke. His frustration over his inaction, in regards to the lady, had driven him into a course of action he now regretted, although he had never spoken of his regard for the lady to another living soul. Neither had he known that she had returned to town, his heart clenching at the thought.

  “Lord Brooke died last year, I am quite sure you heard of it,” Thornley continued, airily. “She is now one of the richest widows in all of England, I am quite sure. I shall have no difficulty convincing her that I am greatly in love with her.”

  “Not if I can do so first,” Henry said, fiercely, surprising even himself with his own vehemence. The thought of the lovely Lady Brooke caught up in Thornley’s conniving grip was more than he could bear.