A pretend match for the.., p.1
A Pretend Match for the Viscount, page 1
Matchmade Marriages
Will love be found through a Season in town?
Five young women from good families—but reduced circumstances—are brought together at Lady Mountjoy’s home near Bath so that she can choose which of them should accompany her to London for the Season. These women—some reluctant, some eager, some shy—are introduced to fashionable Society life. But how much will this help them find their perfect match?
Read Charlotte’s story in
The Marquess Meets His Match
And Eliza’s story in
A Pretend Match for the Viscount
Available now!
Author Note
There is something rather magical about the Regency era. Every year there are hundreds, perhaps even thousands, of books set among the ballrooms and the country estates of the wealthy, yet still there is an appetite for more. The clothes are elegant, reputations are everything and the dance of courtship plays out under the eyes of many. I love this period more than any other. When I close my eyes, I can picture the opulence of the country ballrooms and hear the musicians play the first note of a waltz or a quadrille.
A Pretend Match for the Viscount is set largely in London and I have tried to put all my favorite elements of an upper-class Regency London into the story. There are ballrooms aplenty, gorgeous dresses, striking riding habits and even a spot of ice-skating in St. James’s Park. I hope you enjoy the escape to Regency London.
LAURA MARTIN
A Pretend Match
for the Viscount
Laura Martin writes historical romances with an adventurous undercurrent. When not writing, she spends her time working as a doctor in Cambridgeshire, where she lives with her husband. In her spare moments Laura loves to lose herself in a book and has been known to read from cover to cover in a single day when the story is particularly gripping. She also loves to travel—especially to visit historical sites and far-flung shores.
Books by Laura Martin
Harlequin Historical
A Ring for the Pregnant Debutante
An Unlikely Debutante
An Earl to Save Her Reputation
The Viscount’s Runaway Wife
The Brooding Earl’s Proposition
Her Best Friend, the Duke
One Snowy Night with Lord Hauxton
The Captain’s Impossible Match
Matchmade Marriages
The Marquess Meets His Match
A Pretend Match for the Viscount
The Ashburton Reunion
Flirting with His Forbidden Lady
Falling for His Practical Wife
Scandalous Australian Bachelors
Courting the Forbidden Debutante
Reunited with His Long-Lost Cinderella
Her Rags-to-Riches Christmas
Visit the Author Profile page
at Harlequin.com for more titles.
For my wonderful editor, Linda. Your gentle guidance has meant so much to me over the years and shaped every one of my books.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Epilogue
Excerpt from Tempting the Sensible Lady Violet by Eva Shepherd
Chapter One
Spinning in a circle, Eliza tipped her head back and looked up at the ceiling. High above her an ornate chandelier sparkled with the light of one hundred candles, the flames glinting off the mirrored ceiling and making the whole room appear to be of another world. The ballroom was just starting to fill with people, with more guests arriving every few minutes, and Eliza felt a deep thrum of excitement pass through her body. This was what she had been waiting for her whole life. Tonight was the first true night of her London Season, the night where the rest of her life began.
‘You look happy, Eliza,’ Lucy said as she came and slipped her arm through her friend’s.
‘I am happy. Isn’t this just the most wonderful thing you’ve ever experienced?’
Lucy smiled at her indulgently. Eliza knew her friend didn’t share her overt enthusiasm for the Season, but Lucy would never do anything to dampen her spirits.
‘Have you seen Lord Wilson?’ Eliza raised herself up on to her toes to get a better view of the room. She had never minded her petite stature before she had come to London, but here it often meant she was straining to be able to see when the taller of her companions had an easy view.
‘No.’ Lucy paused and then stepped in a little closer. ‘Be careful with him, he has a wicked reputation.’
‘It’s all just gossip, you know how the ton love to talk.’
‘The rumours must be based on something.’
Eliza shook her head. ‘Don’t worry about me, I know we’re fresh from the country, but I have more common sense than most of these debutantes who have been brought up in their gilded mansions.’
Lucy nodded, looking as though she wanted to say more, but eventually pressed her lips together.
‘Let’s take a walk around the room. I want to remember every detail of tonight.’
Arm in arm they weaved their way through the swelling crowd of people. There were only a few people Eliza recognised, smiling in greeting as they passed. They had been in London for a total of four weeks, but this was their first real ball. Lady Mountjoy, the kind and effusive woman who had brought Eliza to London from Somerset to experience the joys of the London Season along with three other young debutantes, had wanted them to settle in before launching them into society. The start of their Season had also been delayed by a short trip back to Somerset to be part of the wedding of a friend to Lady Mountjoy’s nephew. Tonight was their first ball, their formal launch into society, but the past few weeks hadn’t been wasted. Lady Mountjoy had ensured they were seen strolling through Hyde Park or taking tea with some of the influential members of society. There had even been one or two dinner parties and this was where Eliza had met Lord Wilson.
‘There he is,’ she almost squealed with joy, but was just in time to make sure her expression was fixed into a serene smile before he glanced in her direction.
Lord Wilson acknowledged her with a smile and Eliza felt her heart soar as he excused himself from the group he was with and strode over to greet her. Lucy murmured something Eliza didn’t quite catch and faded away into the background.
‘You’re looking rather lovely tonight, Miss Stanley,’ Lord Wilson said, bending over her hand. ‘Tell me you’ve saved the first dance for me.’
Eliza felt a surge of anticipation as he looked at her with expectant eyes and she knew this was what she was made for. Her life had seemed incomplete when she was in Somerset: it had been as though she didn’t quite belong. Here, now, this was where she was meant to be.
‘Of course, Lord Wilson, I couldn’t let my first dance be with anyone else.
As they turned, a man brushed against her. It was more her fault than his, but all the same he stopped and apologised.
‘My apologies,’ he said, his voice low and so quiet she could barely hear it over the noise of the ball.
‘Have a mind where you step, Thannock,’ Lord Wilson said.
Eliza saw the other man regard Lord Wilson coolly before turning on his heel and striding off across the ballroom.
* * *
Samuel, Lord Thannock, looked at his pocket watch and wondered if anyone would notice if he slipped away now. Surely forty-five minutes was plenty of time to spend at one of these events. It wasn’t as though he were good company and he had already spent a little time with the host and hostess.
Careful not to make eye contact with any of the hopeful debutantes standing around the edge of the ballroom, he headed for the door and breathed a sigh of relief once he was free from the crowds. It was quieter out in the grand hallway with all of the guests now arrived and either in the ballroom or the drawing room off to one side, playing cards. He hadn’t brought a coat, knowing early in the evening he would want to make a swift exit once his obligations were fulfilled.
He turned right out of the ballroom, heading towards the front door, but before he could step out into the cold night air he heard something that made him pause.
Somewhere behind him he heard the deep voice of a man followed by an uncertain giggle of a young woman.
‘Come on, no one will see.’
‘We should get back.’
‘One minute, I promise.’
Sam didn’t want to see who it was—the couple would prefer privacy for their illicit liaison and he certainly did not want to become embr
‘I think we should go back to the ballroom.’
‘Shhh, someone will hear us and then you’ll be ruined.’
There was a short moment of silence and then Sam felt a wave of revulsion break over him as he heard the panicked cry of a young woman. He had never been a man to get involved in matters that did not concern him, but with something like this he didn’t hesitate. Turning back from the front door, he crossed the hall in a few steps, listening carefully for some clue as to where the couple had secreted themselves. There was a sharp intake of breath and the sound of a cry being smothered as Sam started to throw open doors.
The couple were in the third room he tried, the woman squashed underneath her companion who had his back to the door. He caught a glimpse of her petrified face, her eyes wide and her mouth obscured by a large hand.
He crossed the room in a second, not giving the man a chance to realise he and the young lady were no longer alone. Gripping the man by the collar, Sam wrenched him away from the woman and threw him backwards, watching with satisfaction as he stumbled and fell to the floor.
‘Are you hurt?’ He took in the sight of the young woman in front of him, dress crumpled and brows furrowed, a look of pure panic in her eyes. Instinctively, he reached out, wanting to comfort her, but caught himself in time. The last thing she would want would be for another man to touch her.
‘What the hell are you doing here, Thannock?’ Lord Wilson spat as he scrambled up from the floor.
Sam ignored him—he’d always found Wilson to be insufferable and rude, but he hadn’t thought he was capable of this.
‘Do you want me to get someone for you?’
The young woman shook her head, pulling herself upright.
‘You’re sticking your nose in where it’s not wanted, Thannock. Leave me and Miss Stanley in peace.’
Sam rounded on the young Viscount, using his superior size to tower over the other man.
‘Get out,’ he said, his voice quiet but steely. ‘Get out and stay out.’
‘I don’t take orders from you.’
Sam took a step forward and Lord Wilson involuntarily flinched away. For a long moment he hesitated and then headed for the door, pausing when he was almost out of the room.
‘Don’t fool yourself you could have had any more than this, Miss Stanley—you’re good for a quick fumble, but we are from different worlds.’
Watching the young woman’s expression, he saw Lord Wilson’s words hit a nerve, but she valiantly tried to hide it, exhaling in relief once the Viscount was out of the room.
For a long moment she closed her eyes and took a few deep, shuddering breaths, the colour slowly returning to her cheeks.
‘Miss Stanley, is it?’ He didn’t recognise her, apart from being the young woman he had knocked into earlier in the evening. The name was vaguely familiar and he wondered if she was one of the debutantes Lady Mountjoy had brought to London for the Season.
She was pretty, even in her dishevelled state. Petite in build with dark hair that curled about her shoulders where it had sprung loose from the intricate hairstyle she had worn earlier in the evening. There was a vitality in her green eyes that made him want to stare into them, but he caught himself before he looked for too long.
‘Yes. Thank you.’
Sam nodded in acknowledgement, watching carefully as she pulled at her dress, straightening it. She was doing her best to look as though nothing had just happened, but there were subtle signs, things you might miss if you didn’t know where to look, that she was barely holding on to her composure.
He glanced at the door, wondering if she would prefer him to leave, then reprimanded himself silently. He would prefer to leave, he hated any sort of drama, but here was a woman in need and he couldn’t call himself a gentleman if he walked away.
‘Sit down,’ he said gruffly. ‘Take a minute.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘You’re shaking.’
Miss Stanley looked down at her hands as if they were mystical objects and then sank into the cushions of the sofa. Sam didn’t know the Mountjoys’ London residence all that well, but the houses of the wealthy were similar enough that once you’d been in half a dozen you could normally navigate them pretty easily. His eyes darting across the shelves, he found what he was looking for—a decanter of brandy and two crystal glasses.
‘Here.’ He poured out two generous measures of the amber liquid and handed one glass to Miss Stanley, surprised when she threw it back in one gulp, grimacing a little at the burn in her throat, but not coughing or spluttering.
‘You must think I’m an utter fool,’ Miss Stanley said eventually, glancing up at him momentarily before her gaze returned resolutely to her lap.
Remembering his father’s advice to always count to three before criticising someone else, he paused and then shook his head.
‘Lord Wilson is the only one in the wrong,’ he said quietly. ‘You shouldn’t have to fear being alone with anyone, to doubt their intentions.’
She nodded, the tears forming in her eyes, but she brushed them away quickly.
‘I am a fool, but you’re kind to say otherwise.’
Sam had been pacing backwards and forward in front of her, eager to be gone, eager to move on from Miss Stanley and return to the solitude of his house, but something in her tone made him stop and slowly ease himself on to the sofa next to her. He was careful not to sit too close and for a long moment they just shared the silence together.
Sam was searching for something reassuring to say when they both stiffened at a noise at the door. Lord Wilson had slammed the door to the study closed when he had departed, but now there was the unmistakable click of the handle turning. There were voices outside, too, men laughing and talking.
In an instant, Sam felt his body tense as if his instincts were getting him ready to flee, but there was nowhere to run. Here he was in a dark room with a dishevelled young lady. They might be sitting innocently on the sofa, but that wouldn’t save them from the scandal of being found alone together.
Miss Stanley looked as panicked as he felt and half rose from the sofa as if considering hiding behind a potted plant or underneath the mahogany desk.
The voices outside swelled, but the handle didn’t turn any more and Sam wondered if maybe they would be lucky.
‘We need to hide,’ Miss Stanley whispered.
‘There is nowhere to hide.’
‘Behind the curtains.’
‘They’ll see our feet.’
‘Under the desk?’
‘And if they look underneath? We will look guilty.’
‘We have to try something.’
Sam had thought himself immune to beseeching looks and imploring tones, but something in her eyes struck him in the chest and he found himself nodding decisively despite it being against his better judgement. It would be better if they placed themselves on opposite sides of the room and tried to look as uninterested in one another as possible. Either that or for Miss Stanley to make a run for it, to slip out of the door with her head down and hope no one recognised her.
Instead, he found himself directing Miss Stanley to the heavy curtains as she had suggested, motioning for her to climb up on the windowsill and lift her feet from the ground. He did the same, acutely aware of how her legs pressed against his as they huddled together.
‘Mountjoy said there was another pack of cards on the writing desk,’ a male voice rang out a few seconds later as the door opened and the noise from the ballroom grew louder.
Sam did not attend church every Sunday, but now he closed his eyes and prayed that the men would find the cards and get out before either he or Miss Stanley did something to give themselves away.
‘Hurry up, I’m on a lucky streak and I don’t want to miss my chance of bleeding you dry for once.’
‘Got them.’
Relief spread through Sam as he heard the footsteps crossing the floorboards. Perhaps Miss Stanley had been right to insist they hide. He glanced over at his companion and watched in horror as she toppled from the narrow windowsill, her dress too silky to give her much purchase. She went forward through the curtains, letting out a small, stifled cry as she landed on the floor.
