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

by Isabella Thorne

  She gasped and blushed deeply at the thought, embarrassment and thrill wrapped in one.

  “True,” she said, attempting to affect an air of sophistication. “That would not do at all.”

  Edmund turned her in his arms and whispered. “We shall save that outing until we are an old married couple, and have grown bored with married life.”

  Of course, that comment got the answer it deserved. Anne reached under the water for a handful of mud and deposited it directly on Edmund’s forehead. His expression was priceless, and she could not contain her laughter any longer. He looked so ridiculous with the clump on his head like some mud unicorn on two legs. Her laughter rolled out of her and she turned to squish her way to shore.

  Until a large mass of mud landed with a wet THUMP in the center of her back. He could not have done such a thing! But he could, and had.

  “Well sir, this is war!” She shouted and quickly looked for more ammunition, scooping up a great handful and flinging it in his direction. In that moment, Anne knew with certainty that she and Edmund would never grow bored with one another. No, their children would be as embarrassed by their antics as she and Edmund had once been by Uncle Cecil and Aunt Agnes. The thought made Anne smile. Their children…

  Distracted by the thought, Edmund caught her before she could throw another clump of mud. He pulled her close.

  She blushed to the roots of her hair and he kissed her. Neither cared about how muddy they were.

  “Well, well.” A voice startled them. Lord Amberleigh, of all people, was standing on the bank looking at them both with an expression of deep revulsion. He was dressed in a fine white suit and with his cane he looked as though he had just left a ballroom. “I had come to find you Anne, having been directed to this remote place by that rather rude young duchess. I had thought to offer you one last chance at correcting your mistake, but I see it was I who made the mistake.” Amberleigh’s lip curled in derision as he looked from one to the other. “You truly belong to each other, wallowing in the filth like swine. I wish you the joy of your little lives, limited as they may be. Perhaps you could raise pigs, as you seem to enjoy the mud so fiercely.” He sneered and tipped his hat in a mock salute.

  Anne felt the blood drain from her face. She felt as though she were that little girl once more faced with the criticism and shame that her governesses tried instill in her. Her mother disapproved but she never shamed Anne. Lady Aldbrick only gently reminded her daughter of proper manners. It was the nannies, the governesses, the tutors at school, who were enlisted to be sure Anne would conform to society. They shamed and belittled her for having any fun. Their words rang in Anne’s mind. A proper lady would never–

  Well, Anne never claimed to be a proper lady. She gathered a large fist-sized clump of mud and threw it at Lord Amberleigh with all the force she could muster.

  It exploded on Amberleigh’s chest, splattering him from waist to chin. It looked particularly artful on the all-white canvas.

  Anne could not help herself. She laughed. In fact, she laughed so hard, that she snorted. Edmund laughed with her. Once Anne started laughing, she quite discovered she could not stop. It was a release, once and for all of the shame and self-doubt she had held on to. She was with her best friend, her soon-to-be-husband. Husband. She tried the word on for size. Even if it was premature, it still fit. She had Edmund. Who else’s approval did she need?

  “How dare you?” Amberleigh hefted his cane like a club and stalked to where Edmund stepped between them at the edge of the stream, his face suddenly devoid of mirth.

  “Do not,” Edmund said in a low voice.

  Anne looked back and forth between them.

  She wondered if Amberleigh would ignore Edmund’s warning and ford through the water. If he decided his clothing was already ruined, he might. “I swear… You are no lady,” he said.

  Edmund took a step forward towards Amberleigh in Anne’s defense. “Apologize,” he demanded.

  But Anne did not need Amberleigh’s empty apology. “I do not care to be a lady,” she said. “I am a person. My own person, and I do not need to be anything else, most certainly not for you.”

  Amberleigh raised the cane, and in that one awful moment Anne realized that he meant to strike Edmund. The cane connected with Edmund’s cheek with a sharp thwack, but he was not beaten. Edmund brought up the broken piece of railing that had come down into the stream with them, and was floating nearby. Edmund whacked the cane from Amberleigh’s hand with the same bludgeoning style of fencing he used all those years ago. The move had given their fencing master fits, but it was effective. Amberleigh’s cane broke, just at the hilt and the longer piece of it sailed out over the water and fell with a splash, startling the ducks.

  Anne’s next clump of mud hit Amberleigh squarely in the ear, knocking his hat into the stream. He grasped for it and then decided it wasn’t worth it. He turned to Anne with astonishment and fury in his eyes only to receive another clump of mud on the other side of his face.

  Edmund threw that one.

  “Live in your filth then!” Amberleigh shrieked and departed rapidly. In fact, it was quite possible he was running by the time he reached the footpath. Of course, Anne had no doubt that Amberleigh would slow to a sedate and proper walk the moment he was out of sight.

  “Disgusting cad,” Anne said.

  “Pig,” Edmund said, and the both dissolved into laughter.

  Anne watched the top hat spin lazily as it rode the stream under the bridge. She turned to Edmund who was staring at her, a red welt appearing on his cheek. She touched it gingerly and then planted a soft kiss against the hurt.

  “Edmund…” Anne said without turning around.

  “Yes?”

  “There are ducks…”

  Shrieking and waving their arms, they chased the ducks all the way back to the oak tree before they fell at its base and Edmund rolled over to kiss her, very publicly and very tenderly.

  “We are going to be caught,” Anne said as she noted the grass stains joining the mud on her dress.

  “Then you shall have to marry me,” he said in an echo of his younger self.

  “And we shall never have to part again,” Anne added, repeating Edmund’s words from long ago.

  “You did remember,” Edmund said in awe. “I wondered…”

  Anne eyes twinkled and she interrupted him by leaning in and placing her lips on his. “And I shall kiss you whenever I like,” she whispered against his lips.

  “Yes, my love.” Edmund said. He made the words sound like the vow he meant it to be. Then, he deepened the kiss most scandalously.

  Epilogue

  Edmund wondered, if there ever been a more perfect day for a wedding? The sky was cloudless and the sun was shining, which was truly a blessing at this time of year, but he did not care if it rained buckets. He was marrying the love of his life. Anne was his sunshine.

  The swelling had finally gone down on Edmund’s face leaving behind a glorious color palette of fading purple bruises. Emily had tried in vain to make Anne and Edmund delay their marriage long enough for Edmund to look somewhat respectable. Edmund retorted that he had never been respectable a day in his life and wasn’t about to start now. Somehow that comment had sounded better in his head than when he said it out loud, especially given how hard Emily had laughed at her brother’s vehemence. Anne did not seem to mind his swollen cheek, so there seemed nothing more to be said.

  Edmund had his way and notice was sent to his parents. Of course, Edmund and Anne would have their wedding in Northwickshire no matter how Edmund’s father went on about London society. The only opinion Edmund cared about was Anne’s.

  Anne’s father informed them that his solicitor would handle the sale of Amberleigh’s property in Northwickshire. Apparently the man didn’t wish to stay in the area. Imagine that. Anne was sure that no one would miss the man.

  The celebration peaked around them. Edmund looked about in great satisfaction at his friends and family, and m
ost importantly at his bride who held on to his arm in a most delightful way.

  His parents and hers had resigned themselves to the match. Although, they were all somewhat put out by the actions that had precipitated the union. Still, Anne’s father as well as his own had extended their hands to Edmund in a gesture of goodwill. When Lord Kentleworth arrived in Northwickshire he gripped his son’s hand in his own and clapped him on the back saying: he supposed that now that Edmund was to be a married man he would need to increase his allowance. “We will sit down together and decide which of our properties will be the best choice for a home for you and Anne,” his father said. “Do you have a preference?”

  “One of the northerly ones,” Edmund said at once. “Something close by. Anne will not want to travel far to visit her parents and her sisters, not to mention Emily.”

  His father nodded. “I expected so,” he said raising a finger of warning. “But I will have you know, I expect a grandchild. And soon.”

  For once, Edmund was in full agreement with his father.

  “A man needs an heir, you know,” Lord Kentleworth said.

  The wedding was a private ceremony at the church in Northwickshire where Edmund and Emily had attended services as children. The only guests had been family: the Duke and Duchess of Bramblewood, Harry Westlake, Aunt Agnes, Uncle Cecil, and the proud parents of the bride and groom. The Emily stood for the bride and the duke himself stood as witness. Edmund had spoken his vows in something of a daze, happy to pledge his life to Anne. Her proud “I do” still echoed in his mind. He waited a lifetime to hear those words. Now she was his.

  The wedding breakfast and subsequent celebration was a different affair. It was held in the garden of Aldbrick Abbey and the gathering lost the seriousness of the ceremony mostly due to the efforts of Harry who had yet to stop smiling. “If ever there were two people more fated to be together, I have yet to meet them!” He gushed at a loud volume, but the rest of the guests joined in as he raised his glass again. Edmund wasn’t sure if they heard the words or if they simply were accustomed to Harry’s prodigious manner and joined in for the sheer joy of it. Edmund was glad the guests were enjoying themselves. He thought that he even saw his father smile.

  Anne’s mother had been weeping like a watering pot since the service began, but Anne’s sisters, Eliza and Suzanna had taken her in hand. With an unspoken agreement, Edmund and Anne avoided that section of the garden.

  “Eliza promised to remind her that she still has two more daughters at home,” Anne whispered.

  Edmund nodded. Members of Parliament mingled with the Duke of Bramblewood and a few of Edmund’s acquaintances from Whites. Most stayed in London, rather than make the two-day journey to Northwickshire, but all of the people who mattered most were here to share the day.

  The Duke and Duchess of Bramblewood offered their congratulations and Emily hugged Anne warmly. Alex leaned in and whispered to Edmund, “Just remember, when you argue, we have dozens of guest rooms at Bramblewood. I won’t have my friend sleeping at the pub. It’s not dignified.”

  Edmund nodded. He did not think for one moment that just because he and Anne loved one another that their path together would ever be smooth. He wouldn’t have it any other way. He reminded Alexander, decorum was not a strong suit for either of them.

  “Congratulations, my friend,” Harry said nudging Edmund in the ribs as he raised his glass for another toast. Harry seemed to be mounting an attempt to drain the family wine cellars one glass at a time. “You do realize this wedding makes us cousins,” he commented.

  “Lud,” Edmund said dryly, but he smiled at his friend.

  Harry’s brother Andrew looked as though he was about to burst through the confines of the suit he had stuffed himself into. The waistcoat and superfine jacket were fighting a losing battle to contain his mirth. There was too much happiness in him to be contained by something so prosaic and ordinary as a set of buttons.

  “To the bride and groom!” Andrew bellowed and the very fields echoed with the toast.

  As the day wore on, Aunt Agnes and Uncle Cecil had commandeered a bottle of wine for themselves and were well on their way to finishing it, giggling like two school children. That made Edmund smile. His cousin William, Uncle Cecil’s nephew and heir, stood as if staunchly guarding them along with his two younger sisters.

  Edmund only laughed, raising his own glass but drinking sparingly. He did not wish to muffle his wits, not today of all days. With the ceremony ended, the adventure of a lifetime was about to begin.

  After the wedding breakfast, Anne changed from her wedding gown to a riding habit, scandalizing the guests when they realized the bride was not leaving for her wedding trip by conventional means.

  She set her hand on Edmund’s shoulder and he lifted her into the saddle, making sure she was secure before vaulting onto his own mount. He took up the reins skillfully, and with a jaunty wave to their guests, the bride and groom urged their horses into a slow walk, stately as befit a future viscount and his lady.

  Edmund inclined his head to his father as they passed and winked at Alexander. Harry raised another glass to their health only to discover his goblet was empty. The look of disappointment on Harry’s face was comical, but one of his cousins refilled his glass.

  It was a glorious day.

  Edmund laughed and clicked his tongue, urging his horse to a faster pace, to keep up with his wife who was already outstripping him.

  “I love you, my husband.” Anne turned to him with a beatific smile as he caught up.

  “As I love you, my wife.”

  She reined in her mount that they might ride side by side. Anne’s face was wreathed in smiles, a look of supreme satisfaction upon her face. “So, you see, my love, there is benefit to maturity. We are wed and about to embark on a new adventure.”

  “Indeed we are.” How could he not smile at such a statement? “I look forward to a lifetime with you, my love.” Edmund said, in earnest. He looked down the lane to where the carriage and the groomsman with the items for their wedding trip were quickly disappearing. The distance was not far; the road fine and smooth as any racetrack. He turned to Anne who met his challenge with a grin. Neither of them said a word.

  As one, they kicked their mounts into a run. Edmund urged his horse to greater speed as Anne bent low over her horse’s neck. Her bonnet slipped from her head and hung by the ribbons around her neck. Her hair streamed out behind her. She was a thing of beauty, amazing to behold, Edmund thought.

  And she was going to win.

  That was fine. Edmund had won her. Anne said she was not a prize, every part of him argued that she was the grandest, greatest prize of all.

  At the gate, she slowed her mount. He reached out and caught her reins, leaning over to claim her lips with his. She came willingly into his arms, nearly tumbling from her perch on her sidesaddle. He caught her, laughing softly as she righted herself in his arms.

  “Careful. You almost fell in the dirt,” he chided gently.

  “Humph,” she said and leaned forward to kiss him again.

  He knew she would always be full of surprises, but right now, he only thought of her lips warm and pliant beneath his.

  Anne. His Anne. His love.

  Victory had never tasted so sweet.

  Don’t Miss The Duke’s Winter Promise…

  The Duke’s Winter Promise ~ A Christmas Regency Romance

  by Isabella Thorne

  The story of:

  Miss Emily Ingram and the Duke of Bramblewood.

  Would you like to be notified when my next

  novel is published?

  Click Here to Join my VIP Readers

  Continue reading for a sneak seek of…

  Winning Lady Jane ~ A Christmas Regency Romance

  by Isabella Thorne

  1

  The trip was mercifully uneventful, and Mrs. Poppy had gone to dozing in the corner of the carriage. Jane stared out the window at the light misting of snow dusting the g
round in the failing light. She was thankful that they were almost there.

  The roads were not yet slick, but she had worried lest they should become so. Riding in a carriage was bad enough; riding in the snow was another thing altogether. At least most of the guests planned to stay at the manor at the earl’s invitation. Jane would not need to travel anywhere again until it was time to leave.

  Satisfied that she had indeed made the trip safely after all, Jane allowed herself to feel the excitement of what was to come. This was an adventure, a delightful one filled with all manner of possibilities.

  Next to her Mrs. Poppy awoke with a start.

  “We are almost there,” she told the older woman.

  They both peered out the window of the carriage.

  “Isn’t it grand?” Mrs. Poppy said with a voice of awe.

  Jane had to agree. There, in the distance, she kept catching glimpses through the trees of a massive stone house. As they came around a sharp bend, the carriage left the wood behind and there was Kennett Park in all its glory. What she saw left Jane absolutely mesmerized. The vast beauty of the manor house robbed her of speech.

  It was rectangular in shape with four floors and several outbuildings. From the lane she could see the stable and glimpse the lake, just beyond the fields, tucked behind the house. Was that a boat house? She imagined the view from the upper floors of the manor would be spectacular.

  Jane and Mrs. Poppy rode up a drive of round river stones, which made the carriage rattle noisily as they reached the front of the house. The horses clip-clopped along the long curved drive, coming to a halt just shy of the front steps. There they would await grooms to take them to their warm stalls.

  Jane craned her neck to see balconies dotting the front of the manor house denoting the larger, finer rooms where important guests stayed. The spaces between the balconies showed plainer windows, indicating rooms for regular visitors or relatives on the outer fringes of the family. This would likely be where she would stay. Stately rooms would be for reserved for distinguished guests. After all, she was only a casual acquaintance of the earl’s younger sister, Lady Charlotte.