Valued by the Viscount (Book 6 Second Sons of London)

by Alexa Aston

Genres: Historical Romance; Regency Romance; Regency romance; England; 1800s; Regency Historical Romance; Alexa Aston; Second Sons of London

Synopsis

A reformed rogue who yearns for a love match. A widow who’s been tossed from her home. A house party meant to bring lovers together . . .

Reed Davenport is a womanizer enjoying a carefree life until his beloved father dies. Now Viscount Boxling, Reed takes his responsibilities seriously, including providing an heir. He turns to the Duchess of Camden, famed for her matchmaking skills, and puts himself in her hands, hoping he will find not only his viscountess—but love.

Vanessa Hughes, Lady Hockley, is a widow whose husband made her feel worthless. With her year of mourning at an end, her stepson demands she leave the family estate. Raging at her dead husband’s grave, Vanessa meets a remarkable countess who invites Vanessa to a house party she is hosting.

Can Vanessa find a new husband that will see her for who she truly is—and is Reed the man who will finally bring love into her life?

Find the answer in bestselling author Alexa Aston’s Valued by the Viscount, the sixth book in Second Sons of London.

Release date: October 4, 2022

Publisher: Dragonblade Publishing

Print pages: 255

Sample

PROLOGUE

London—1809

Opening night of the Season

 

Lady Vanessa Hughes looked at herself in the full-length mirror, a gift from her parents on her eighteenth birthday last year. Mama had said, though extravagant, the mirror would come in handy as Vanessa readied herself for all of the events in her come-out Season. Unfortunately, she had not made her debut as planned. Her parents, who had both been feeling poorly, succumbed to a fever. They died within a day of one another, three weeks before the Season began. Consequently, Vanessa returned to the country for a year of mourning the two people she deeply loved.

It had been a lonely year for her. Not only had she been close to both her parents, but Mama had gone ahead and dismissed Vanessa’s governess of many years, saying the woman was no longer needed since Vanessa would soon be wed. She had bid her governess farewell just before she and her parents traveled to London. Vanessa had been caught up in all the many dress fittings and was eager to make friends with the other girls making their debuts in Polite Society.

Instead, she had spent the last twelve months in the country while her brother, Vernon, remained in town. He had not come a single time, not even to spend Christmas with her. Since he was her only sibling and her parents had been only children themselves, the holiday season had been bleak. When March came, she had hoped Vernon would send for her without being prompted. She did not expect to have an entire new wardrobe created—since she had yet to wear a single gown made up for last Season—but she had hoped to come to town a bit early and get to know London. Her parents had always left her in the country with her governess when they attended the Season each year. Vanessa longed to make friends and, more than anything, hoped she would receive an offer of marriage. She intended to have many children and would give them equal attention, making sure none of them ever felt lonely or ignored.

When she did not hear from Vernon, she wrote to him—again. He had not responded to a single letter she had written him in the year she had been in mourning. Finally, a reply to her last correspondence arrived. He told her he would send the carriage for her. Eagerly, she went about packing, thrilled to finally see London for the first time. Hopefully, she would at last get to know her brother a little better. Vernon was four years older and had never spent any time in her company. He had once told her when she was nine and he thirteen that females were worthless creatures, only good for breeding heirs. After that, she had stopped making any effort to know him. They were both adults now, however, and they had lost their parents. She hoped their shared loss could bring them close. She also assumed that Vernon would introduce her into his circle of friends and that she might find her future husband among them. Although the more Vanessa thought about it, the less she wanted to wed a friend of her brother’s if they all had the same low opinion of women as he did.

The maid standing nearby smiled at her. “You look right nice, Lady Vanessa. I’ll bet you dance every number at tonight’s ball.”

“I hope so, too. Thank you for your help tonight. You may leave now,” she added, and the maid quietly exited the room.

Vanessa went and sat at her dressing table and put on the pearl earrings which had belonged to her mother. Mama had passed them down to Vanessa on her sixteenth birthday. The pair was her most cherished possession, a link to her mother, who would never see her daughter wed and bear children. By wearing these earrings, Mama would be with her tonight and every night of the Season.

She had no other jewelry to wear. She had seen Vernon so few times since she had come to town. When she had asked him if she might wear a necklace or bracelet of their mother’s, he had put her off. She smoothed her hair a final time and stood, nerves dancing in her belly, but they were the good kind of nerves. Yes, it was true that she was a little anxious about this evening but she hoped to leave tonight’s ball having made a few friends and having caught the eye of a few kind, eligible gentlemen.

Vanessa descended the stairs and arrived in the foyer, hoping Vernon would be waiting for her. No, not Vernon. He had snapped at her when she had called him by his name when she first arrived in town, insisting that she refer to him as Stillwell. He had admitted that he never liked his given name, one he shared with their maternal grandfather whom they had never met since he died before either of them had been born.

Adams, the butler, was in the foyer, as well as a footman who was on duty by the door.

“May I say that you look absolutely lovely tonight, my lady,” Adams told her.

“Thank you,” she replied. “This is the gown that Mama had wished me to wear to the opening night of the Season.” She touched a hand to one earring and saw the butler smile.

“I recognize the countess’ earrings. I know it comforts you to have a piece of Lady Stillwell with you tonight. She and his lordship are truly missed.”

Tears misted in Vanessa’s eyes and she nodded. Adams had been with them for many years and her father even used to take advice from his butler. It had surprised Vanessa shortly after her parents’ passing that Adams and Mrs. Adams, their housekeeper, were summoned to London permanently. Adams had floundered a bit with his explanation and then finally had asked if he could be honest with her. When she encouraged him to do so, he shared that the London butler and housekeeper had been let go and they were to take the couple’s place, year-round.

When Vanessa asked who would serve as the butler and housekeeper in the country, Adams gave her a weak smile.

“It is my understanding we are not to be replaced, my lady. Lord Stillwell believes a country butler is unnecessary and he said you could take on the duties of Mrs. Adams in managing the household.”

His words had shocked her but she was well prepared for the job. Mama had schooled her only daughter from an early age in the ways to run a large household and Vanessa stepped into those shoes, serving as de facto mistress and housekeeper of the country house. She managed the schedule of the maids and when they were to clean and where, as well as planning out the menus with Cook. She had done no entertaining, due to being in mourning. At least functioning as the estate’s housekeeper gave her something useful to do.

“Do you know when Lord Stillwell might come down, Adams?” she asked, a bit nervous that her brother wasn’t here awaiting her. It was half-past eight and the ball’s receiving line opened at nine. She knew there would be a crowd of carriages descending upon their destination and she and Vernon—no, Stillwell—might have to walk a bit.

“Lord Stillwell is not at home, my lady,” the butler informed her.

Shock rippled through her. If her brother had been out somewhere at dinner—or at one of his gaming hells—he would need to change into evening attire when he did return home. That would cause them to be late. Of course, Mama had always told her a receiving line could go on for a good half-hour and even closer to an hour. With this being the opening night of the Season and so many in attendance, that would be their only saving grace.

If Stillwell arrived in the next few minutes.

“I think I will take a seat, Adams,” she said brightly, trying to hide her worry. “I will most likely be on my feet most of the night. Either speaking with others or dancing.”

“An excellent idea, my lady,” the butler answered neutrally.

Vanessa sat in a chair in the foyer, her eyes constantly going to the grandfather clock as it ticked away the minutes. When it chimed nine, her heart sank.

She was going to miss the first ball of the Season.

Her insides churned. A host of emotions flitted through her, ranging from sadness to rage at her thoughtless brother. He spent a good deal of his time away from the house with his friends. He had mentioned being at his club a great deal but Vanessa also knew from overhearing servants’ gossip that many nights Stillwell was at gaming hells or brothels. To think of him at one now when he should be doing his brotherly duty and escorting her to her first ball made her want to claw out his eyes. If Papa were still alive, he would have made certain Vernon wasn’t neglecting his duties, whether it was to his tenants in the country or to his sister in town.

Yet what was she supposed to do? If she called him out for his negligence, would he even care? Worse, he might be enraged at such insubordination and send her back to the country.

Vanessa waited another five minutes and then decided to return to her bedchamber. The small glimmer of hope she had held on to had faded into nothingness.

She stood and Adams, who had lurked nearby, came toward her. “I believe I will retire for the evening,” she said stiffly, hating the look of pity in his eyes.

“I am very sorry, Lady Vanessa. I know how much you were looking forward to this evening.”

She smiled ruefully. “You have nothing to apologize for, Adams.”

He bowed his head briefly and then his gaze met hers. “I would take away the hurt if I could, my lady.”

“I know you would,” she said softly. “Thank you.”

She turned and crossed the foyer, reaching the staircase. Her hand went out and gripped the handrail tightly, needing the support because she found her whole body shaking. Whether it was from anger or loss, she couldn’t say. As she trudged up the first few steps, however, she heard the front door opening and wheeled around, her heart in her throat.

Stillwell stumbled through the door, looking disheveled. He was obviously in his cups, his face flushed a bright red, and his gait unsteady as he moved into the foyer. Glancing up, he noticed her.

“Ah, Vanessa. Just the person I need to speak with.”

She hurried down the stairs and came to him. “We are going to be frightfully late to the ball, Stillwell. Shall I summon your valet and have him help you change? Perhaps most of the traffic has died down. Mama always told me receiving lines were long and—”

“That won’t be necessary,” he interrupted, waving his hand as if he brushed aside the fact they were missing tonight’s event. “Come to my study,” he mumbled, turning his back on her and shuffling away.

Disappointment filled her and her gaze met Adams’.

“I will send coffee to his lordship,” the butler promised. “Hopefully, it will help.”

Vanessa nodded and then hurried after her brother, who had now reached the entrance to his study and stepped inside. She followed him into the room and closed the door behind them. She had decided to stand up for herself and speak her truth. The servants did not need to hear her dressing down their drunken employer.

Stillwell tripped and fell to the carpet. She raced to him and took his elbow, helping him to rise. Guiding him to a chair, she turned him around and he collapsed into it, closing his eyes. She stepped away quickly, the stench of liquor on him overwhelming her.

Moving to the seat opposite him, she sat and cleared her throat. “We have things to discuss, Stillwell,” she said firmly.

His eyes opened and she saw how bloodshot they were. “I will do the talking, Vanessa,” he said brusquely. “You will listen whether you like it or not.”

His words—and their tone—sent a chill through her. She swallowed and clasped her hands in her lap, waiting for whatever news he was about to share.

“Fetch me a drink,” he commanded.

“Do you really need one, Stillwell? It seems you have had quite enough already this evening. Enough to make me miss the opening ball of the Season and my debut into Polite Society.”

He frowned deeply, his look so stern that she wished the floor would swallow her up. “Get me the bloody drink.”

Vanessa stood and went to the crystal decanters that sat on a side table and poured brandy into a snifter. She brought it to him and saw he could not take it with one hand. She reached for his other and placed both of them around the glass. Taking her seat again, she stared at him.

She thought he would sip the amber liquid but, instead, he drained it quickly and indicated he wanted more. Reluctantly, she rose again and took the decanter to him, pouring from it since she was afraid to remove the snifter from his trembling hands.

Again, Stillwell tossed back the liquor and then the snifter dropped from his fingers to the carpet. He finally met her gaze and she couldn’t tell what was hidden behind it.

“You wish to wed, don’t you? That’s what women want, isn’t it?” he demanded.

“Yes, I do hope to meet an eligible bachelor this Season. I know he will need to ask you for my hand in marriage before I may accept his offer. You will also draw up the marriage settlements, much as Papa would have done for me if he were still alive.”

Stillwell snorted. “Well, he isn’t, is he? It’s me. I am the one who is deciding your future.” He paused. “It was decided tonight.”

Cold fear struck her and if Vanessa had not been seated, she would have collapsed.

“What have you done?” she asked, her nails digging into her palms.

“I arranged a husband for you,” he slurred.

“You did . . . what?”

“You won’t have to bother hunting for one. It has all been arranged. He will come here tomorrow morning to meet you and we’ll draw up the marriage contracts.” He rubbed his temples. “Damn. Need to send word to the solicitor.”

Vanessa shot to her feet. “How can I marry a man I have never even met?”

Her brother shrugged. “Well, you will meet him in the morning.” He closed his eyes again.

And started snoring.

She marched to him and shook him violently. “No, you don’t. You do not tell me I am going to wed a stranger and fall asleep.”

“Huh?” He looked up at her sleepily. “Oh, I know him.”

An odd look crossed Stillwell’s face and a sinking feeling overtook Vanessa. “Do you owe him money?”

She knew he gambled recklessly because she eavesdropped on the servants, who couldn’t stop gossiping about it. It was how she learned the circumstances in which the London butler and housekeeper left. They—and a good number of the staff—were paid sporadically. Or not at all. That was the true reason Adams and his wife had been summoned from Kent and why they had taken a few servants with them to London. Vanessa had assumed Stillwell was trying to cut costs.

When he didn’t answer her question, she poked him in the shoulder. Hard.

“Ouch!”

“Tell me. Have you lost money to this man?”

This man who was to become her husband . . .

“Yes,” he finally answered. “Your dowry will just cover my debt.”

Bitterness filled her. “So, in essence, Stillwell, you are selling me to pay for what you owe.”

“I suppose some might look at it that way,” he said hesitantly.

“The one who is being sold most certainly does,” she spat out. “Why? Who is this man?”

Vanessa dropped to her knees. “Please, Vernon. Do not make me do this. I am begging you.”

Her brother raised haunted eyes to hers and she realized just how deeply in debt he must be. “I have no choice,” he rasped. “If I pay him, he promised to keep the other creditors at bay.”

“Who is he?” she finally asked.

“Lord Hockley. He has been wed before and already has his heir. You do not have to worry about providing one for him.”

“But I want children,” she said, her throat tight with emotion.

“Oh, he’ll probably get them off you. He is very eager to couple with you. He wanted a beautiful virgin and I assured him you fit the description.”

“He said that?” Disgust filled her. No gentleman would speak so coarsely.

Stillwell’s head fell back against the chair. “He says a lot of things. He told me what he wanted to do to you.”

Queasiness filled her belly. “I don’t understand.”

Her brother raised his head. “You’ll learn soon enough.” He shook his head. “Go to bed, Vanessa. Lord Hockley will call at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Wear something pretty for him. Now, leave me.”

Slowly, she rose and left the room, passing Adams who carried a tray with the coffee upon it.

“My lady?” he asked, worry creasing his brow. “You look deathly ill. How bad is it?”

Vanessa shook her head. “The worst it could be,” she said dully, brushing past him and going to her bedchamber.

Little did she know that things always could be even worse than anticipated.

***

She awoke the next morning having gotten little sleep. She rang for her maid and dressed with no conversation. She supposed the footman on duty last night had spread some of the gossip circulating through the household today, from Vanessa not making her appearance at the ball to the earl stumbling home in a drunken stupor. The loyal Adams would have kept quiet.

She doubted anyone would know her betrothed would be making an appearance this morning.

Or perhaps they had some inkling of what might occur. If Stillwell had remembered to send for his solicitor, a footman would have delivered the note and surmised why the man was being summoned to their townhouse.

The maid broke the silence. “May I bring up some breakfast for you, my lady?”

“No. I am not hungry. But thank you.”

After the servant left, Vanessa paced her bedchamber. She felt what little energy she had drain from her and took a seat by the window. As the hour drew near for Lord Hockley to arrive, her nervousness grew. She didn’t know if he might be one of the friends Stillwell had brought home previously. Her brother hadn’t introduced her to any of them when she had passed them in the hallway. They, like he, had been imbibing heavily. At the moment, she couldn’t recall what a single one of them had looked like.

A carriage pulled up in the square and she pulled aside the curtain, looking down as the footman opened the vehicle’s door. She realized she was holding her breath as an overweight, older gentleman exited. He must be Lord Hockley’s solicitor, with his white hair and huge belly. She stared intensely, waiting for Lord Hockley to emerge. Was he a viscount? Or an earl, as her father had been?

Finally, another man descended the stairs, rather drab in appearance and looks and also old. She hadn’t necessary wanted a handsome man as her husband but this one was truly a disappointment. Vanessa dropped the curtain back into place and settled into her chair, breathing in and out slowly and deeply, trying to manage her emotions.

After half an hour, a knock sounded and a maid ventured into the room. “My lady, you are to come downstairs. To Lord Stillwell’s study.”

Rising, she moved toward the door. The servant kept her gaze averted and Vanessa couldn’t blame the maid for wishing to hide her pity.

She arrived downstairs, where Adams awaited. “This way, my lady,” he said, offering her escort to Stillwell’s study.

She followed him, her head held high, the beautiful posture her mother praised her for on full display.

Adams hesitated at the door, his hand hovering just above the knob.

“Go ahead,” she told him. “I know what my fate is.”

Surprise filled his face. “You are very brave, my lady.” With that, he opened the door and announced her.

She entered the room and two steps in paused, having caught sight of their visitors. Up close, she realized she had made a horrible mistake. She had misjudged the clothing both men wore. The younger of the pair, approaching forty, was the solicitor.

The older one was her betrothed.

Bile rose in her throat and she quickly swallowed it as she took in her future husband. He was perhaps an inch over five feet so she would hover over him since she was five inches over five feet. His girth was tremendous for his height and he had heavy jowls that pulled the lower half of his face downward. The white hair was abundant, making him look even older.

Slowly, she continued toward them and her brother said, “This is Lady Vanessa Hughes, my sister, Lord Hockley.”

“I see that,” he snapped. He studied her a long moment and then said, “Turn around. Slowly.”

She did so, feeling his eyes bore into her, as if he were judging her like horseflesh.

“She’ll do nicely,” Lord Hockley pronounced. “Shall we go, my lady?”

“Go . . . where?” she said dumbly.

The nobleman’s face darkened and he wheeled, his eyes narrowed. “You didn’t tell her, Stillwell?”

“I thought . . .” Her brother’s voice trailed off and he shrugged helplessly.

Lord Hockley turned to her. “I hope you aren’t the dolt your brother is. The marriage settlements are now signed. I procured a special license for us this morning at Doctors’ Commons.”

“What is that?” she voiced, dread filling her.

“It means we can wed immediately and will do so.”

“Today?” she asked, her voice wavering.

“Yes, today. That is what immediately would refer to.” Lord Hockley shook his head. “I suppose you are a featherbrain. A maid can pack your things. They can be delivered to my townhouse. Come along,” he ordered.

“With you. Now,” she said dully.

He sniffed. Taking her hand, he placed it on his arm. “Yes, Lady Vanessa.”

They left the room. She didn’t bother looking back to tell her brother goodbye. He had betrayed her in the worst way and, to her, he was now dead. In the corridor, though, she found her voice.

“Adams, please see that Mrs. Adams packs my things. They are to be sent to Lord Hockley’s townhouse at once.”

“At once?” echoed the butler, surprise showing on his usually composed face.

Vanessa nodded, biting her lip, trying to keep from bursting into tears. “Goodbye,” she told the valued servant, and accompanied her fiancé to his carriage.

Once inside, she found they couldn’t sit on the same cushion because of his tremendous size and she moved opposite him. The other man joined them and sat beside her. He never introduced himself nor spoke a word. They reached their destination, only a few blocks away, and all three climbed out.

They entered a townhouse. The place which would now be her home. She looked about the foyer, dry-eyed. Tears would be for later, shed in private.

“They’re waiting in the parlor,” Lord Hockley gruffly said and he led them to a room off the foyer.

Inside were three people. Once again, she was not told who they were. Two of them—a man and a woman—favored one other quite a bit and were regarding her with hostility. She supposed them to be her new stepchildren. A third man looked on in amusement as the woman slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. Vanessa gathered he was this woman’s husband.

“I am here, my lord,” a voice said, and a clergyman hurried into the room. “Have you the special license?”

The solicitor produced it and the clergyman studied it a moment. “Very well then. Are we ready?”

Vanessa repeated the phrases listlessly, vowing to love, honor, and obey the man next to her. At least she learned his Christian name during the ceremony.

Horace.

He would be Horace the Horrible to her. She almost giggled at the nickname she bestowed upon him.

They were pronounced man and wife and Horace the Horrible moved to her. She realized he couldn’t stand on his toes so she bent, allowing him to brush his dry lips to her cheek.

The clergyman and solicitor left. The married couple followed them from the room without a word.

“Wait up, Mathilda,” the remaining man called. He hurried to the door and then turned and glared at her.

“No one can ever replace our mother,” he snarled and then he left.

The moment he was gone, her new husband burst into laughter. “Ah, my Milton is quite put out with me,” he said.

“I assume he and Mathilda are your children. My stepchildren.”

“They are,” Horace the Horrible said. “He’s jealous. I keep tight control over his finances. He isn’t astute enough with numbers to be the successful gambler that I am. No, Milton is waiting for me to die and hoping I won’t get you with child because it would mean he would have to support the brat once I am gone and he is Earl of Hockley.”

He shook his head. “Ignore him. You may see him at some of the events we attend.”

“We will go to the Season?” she asked incredulously.

“Of course, we will. I must show off my newest prize. I believe there is a ball tonight.”

She couldn’t imagine dancing with him.

As if reading her mind, he told her, “You will not dance, of course. You are a married lady now and will sit with the matrons. I gather from Stillwell that you know no one in London. Perhaps my daughter will take you under her wing and introduce you around.”

Vanessa doubted that would occur.

He captured her wrist. “For now, we will go upstairs and christen the marriage bed.”

She froze. She had been told nothing about what occurred between a man and a woman. Mama had kept putting it off until it was too late. The thought of this man touching her intimately brought terror to her.

“You are ignorant, I suppose.”

She nodded, not finding her voice.

“Perhaps that is for the best since I do have . . . unusual tastes.”

He led her upstairs, showing her where the countess’ rooms were and then bringing her to his. She wondered how often she would have to perform her marital duty. He was so old and had trouble moving with his girth. She hoped he wouldn’t want her very often.

Without warning, he punched her in the gut.

Vanessa doubled over, the breath gone from her. She fought for and finally wheezed, gasping for air. He allowed her to catch it—and then with both hands, ripped her bodice open.

Hours later, battered and bruised, she soaked in a hot tub and then dressed in silence in the gown her mother wished for her to wear as she made her foray into Polite Society. None of the marks showed, covered by the gown. When the butler came to escort her downstairs, she was suitably cowed, afraid to say a single word.

“Lady Hockley?”

She looked up and her husband offered her his arm. She took it, trying not to visibly cringe as she touched him, and he led her to the waiting carriage. No conversation occurred on their way to the ball. They joined the receiving line and her husband introduced her to their hosts before telling her he was off to the gaming room.

“You will join the other matrons,” he instructed. “Speak to no gentlemen—or you will regret it.”

Wincing at his words, Vanessa quickly turned away and wandered into the ballroom, not knowing a soul. She blindly moved through the masses gathered inside and found where she was to sit. As other women arrived, they took no notice of her. She tried to introduce herself once and the woman looked at her in disdain.

“Do you not realize you must be introduced to someone in order to speak to them?”

She recalled Mama mentioning something about that—but who could introduce her? She knew no one.

Vanessa sat silently, watching the dancers, thinking how she would never be a part of them. When supper was announced, she remained seated. Horace the Horrible did not come for her. Her fear of him now was so great that she sat alone and waited for the other matrons to return. They did, tittering behind their fans, obviously about her. She avoided their blatant stares, her gaze focused on her hands in her lap.

Her husband came for her near the end of the ball and claimed her. They rode in silence back to his townhouse. He escorted her to her bedchamber. She began trembling, knowing now what was to come.

“I am tired,” he told her. “We can spend time with one another tomorrow.” He gleamed at her possessively and she wanted to plunge a knife into his eye.

Entering her bedchamber, she spied her trunks and a maid sleeping in the corner. The servant awoke and helped prepare Vanessa for bed, ignoring the bruising and gently lowering the night rail over her head and down her body.

“Anything else, my lady?”

“No.”

The maid left. Vanessa went to the bed, grateful she would be in it alone. She climbed into it and curled into a ball, pulling the bedclothes tightly around her.

Vanessa prayed either she—or Horace the Horrible—would die during the night.

 

 

CHAPTER 1

Boxwell Hall, Sussex—August 1816

 

Reed Davenport, Viscount Boxling, rose from his bed, still feeling restless. A restlessness had filled him for some time now. He had been the viscount for three years, come this Christmas, pulling his father’s estate and financial holdings from the mire. It still bothered him after all this time that his beloved father had turned to gambling in the final year of his life. A few poor investments, coupled with a rare, dismal crop, and his father had panicked. Reed only wished he had known of this and been able to help sooner.

Instead, his father had let his only son blithely while away his time in London, doing the sorts of things young gentlemen of his class did when they were carefree bachelors. Reed had spent both his university years and those before his father’s death in pursuit of fun and pleasure. He had ridden and boxed. Gone to the theater. Indulged in a little too much drink at times. Most of all, he had spent time with the ladies. Numerous ladies. He was a handsome, charming man and knew it, as did all of Polite Society. He took great care in making certain his lovers were fulfilled and happy with their encounters with him.

But deep inside, Reed had always longed for more. He knew when he eventually became the viscount, he would settle into a more staid life. That had occurred sooner than he could ever have imagined. His father had passed on Christmas morning, with Reed, his sister, their stepmother and her two daughters at the viscount’s bedside. When Reed had met with both solicitors and financial advisers regarding his father’s estate, he had learned the magnitude of what had occurred and how deeply the hole his father had dug. He did not let a soul know as he tackled matters on the estate and worked on investments, small ones at first, which paid off quickly, and then gradually moving to larger ones. Now, he was more than solvent. It seemed he had the Midas touch as far as investments went and the family coffers were once again full. It would prevent him from having to make a marriage solely based upon the size of a woman’s dowry.

He wanted a woman now. A wife. Someone who could be both partner and lover to him in this journey of life. He thought he might have found one in Louisa Goulding, but she only had eyes for Lord Danbury. Fortunately, Danbury awoke in time to realize the jewel he had in hand and the couple had wed. It was bittersweet to see them together, blissfully happy, but Reed did feel blessed to now call the couple his friends.

He had felt the stir of attraction to Minta Nicholls, as well, but the Marquess of Kingston, shy man that he was, had asserted himself when the time was right and made Miss Nicolls his marchioness. Reed was also on friendly terms with this couple, as well.

He now placed high hopes on the house party the Danburys were holding. The Duchess of Camden, known for her matchmaking skills, was helping Lady Danbury compose a very select guest list, hoping to match more than one person with a soulmate during the event. Though Reed understood the Duke of Woodmont and Miss Seraphina Nicholls, Minta’s sister, would be the focus of Her Grace’s efforts, he had made known to the duchess his desire to find a bride.

Reed had skipped the Season following his father’s passing, not only mourning the man he had worshipped but digging his family out of the hole. He attended the following Season and found little luck, becoming quickly bored with the emptyheaded girls making their come-outs. This past spring, his second Season in search of a viscountess, had proven to be just as much a waste of time. After attending only a handful of events, Reed had stopped going to them altogether and returned to the country. He had privately met with the Duchess of Camden before leaving and told her of his despair.

He hadn’t admitted to her that he sought a love match.

His own father had made two of those. The first was to Reed’s mother, whom he had never known since she died giving birth to him. The viscountess had provided an heir, a daughter, and Reed, the proverbial spare. He had only been two when his brother, Leonard, died, at seven years of age, and Reed had absolutely no memory of his sibling. He was close to his sister, Pamela, who was three years his senior and a married woman with two of the most adorable children on the planet.

Reed was dotty over children and yearned to fill Boxwell Hall with his own brood. It was hard, however, to find a woman who didn’t bore him and would be willing to have numerous children, as most ladies of the ton did their duty and little beyond that. To want a love match—as well as finding a woman who wanted a bevy of children—might prove to be next to impossible. Still, it was what Reed desperately desired.

He had watched his father being stoic for years and then finding love later in life for a second time. He had once told Reed that he married the first time for duty and was fortunate to have fallen in love with his wife over the course of their marriage. The second time, he married for the sheer joy of love when Reed was fourteen. He now had two half-sisters. Camilla was fifteen and Nicola was fourteen. They—and his stepmother—lived in the Boxling London townhouse for much of the year, only coming to the country for brief passages of time. In fact, they were coming right after the Season ended, when he would be traveling from Sussex to Essex for the upcoming house party. He hoped he could convince his stepmother to stay a bit longer this time since he was beginning to enjoy the company of Camilla and Nicola. They were both bright, inquisitive girls and he was quite proud of them. He knew in only a few years the pair would make their own come-outs and he would be responsible for approving their grooms and negotiating the marriage contracts.

Rising from the bed, he rang for Dall, his valet. Soon, Reed was shaved and dressed, sitting in the sunny breakfast room, one of his favorite rooms at Boxwell Hall. He smiled when Pamela and Drake, her husband, entered the room. They had left town and stopped to see him on their way home. They would be leaving this morning and he already missed them terribly.

“Good morning,” he said cheerily, masking the glum mood which had settled over him. “Are you all packed?”

“We are and will leave after breakfast,” his brother-in-law said. “Thank you for allowing us to stop for a few days, albeit uninvited. I know the children were happy to spend time with their uncle.”

“You spent more time in the nursery than I have the past few days,” Pamela said, chuckling. “Perhaps I should leave Pip and Eve with you for a spell. It would give Drake and me glorious time alone so that we might make a new baby.” Her eyes lit with the mischief he loved so well. Though Pamela had only been a few years older, she had mothered him from the time they were young.

“Normally, I would leap at that offer but remember, I am leaving in a week’s time for the Danburys’ house party,” he reminded her.

She studied him a moment and then asked, “Did you meet with Her Grace as we spoke of?”

Reed nodded. “The duchess is definitely aware of my fervent wish to wed.”

“You left town so long ago. I will wager that you do not know the latest gossip,” Pamela said.

“And what would that be?” he asked, not really caring but happy to have his sister here.

“Rumor has it Lady Danbury was hosting her house party to help find a match for the Duke of Woodmont and Lady Kingston’s twin sister, who recently arrived from North America.” Pamela paused and grinned. “Those two won’t need a house party because they found each other all on their own.”

Surprise filled him. “What are you saying? Are they betrothed?”

His sister nodded. “More than betrothed. They wed. They won’t even be at the Danburys’ house party.”

Reed whistled. “You don’t say?”

“I do. It was the talk of town before we left. I suppose Lady Danbury and Her Grace made some adjustments to their guest list because of it. I had heard a few women in society turned down offers of marriage simply because they wanted their chance at Woodmont during the house party.” She sighed. “I hope you won’t find a group of disgruntled ladies when you attend.”

Dread filled him. He was a viscount. A wealthy one, thanks to his astuteness, but his title was no match for that of a duke’s. Still, the duke would not be in attendance. Reed hadn’t bothered to ask Lady Danbury or Her Grace who would be coming. He was putting his trust in those two women, placing himself in their hands. He decided if they recommended one—or more—of the women at this party, then he would put aside his notion of marrying for love. After all, his own father had wed out of duty the first time and love had come to him and his bride. Perhaps history might repeat itself in this very same house with Reed and the woman who became his viscountess.

“You will have to write to me and tell me if you find a lady to your liking,” Pamela told him.

His brother-in-law cleared his throat. “Marry when it’s right, Reed,” he advised. “You will feel it in your gut and your heart.” He reached and took his wife’s hand and squeezed it.

A pang of jealousy shot through him. He was happy that his sister had found the man she had. Drake was a good husband and father and had a sterling reputation when the pair wed.

Unlike Reed, whose days of sowing wild oats seemed to follow him. Though he hadn’t had a mistress or even conducted a single affair since his time as Viscount Boxling, he knew the mamas of Polite Society still wagged their tongues a bit when he danced with their daughters.

“Thank you for the sage advice, Drake,” he said breezily. “I will not get my hopes up too high regarding this house party. However, if the quality of guests is what I suspect, it will be my best chance to find a wife. Neither Her Grace nor Lady Danbury are ones to tolerate fools. The women they will have invited will all be special in their own way. After having spent so little time at ton events this year, I look forward to more in-depth conversations. My experience has been one of getting to know people quite well due to the intimate atmosphere and close proximity at a house party. I fully expect to come out of it engaged.”

Pamela frowned slightly but said nothing. Reed regretted ever having told his sister of his desire to marry for love. Since she herself had done so, Pamela would think that was the only way it should be done.

He dabbed the napkin to his lips and said, “I am off to the nursery for a final session of play. Wait until all the luggage is onboard your carriages before you come and I have to hand over those precious little loves.”

He excused himself and went straight to the nursery. His niece and nephew sat on the floor, blocks in front of them. When they saw him enter the room, both their faces lit with joy and they scrambled to their feet. He swept up Eve and twirled her about as she giggled. Putting her down, he grabbed Pip by the waist and then tossed him high into the air several times, his heart melting as the boy squealed happily.

Bringing his nephew back to earth, Reed went to the blocks and sat before them. “What are we building today?” he asked.

Both children plopped next to him and Eve responded, “A house. A big house,” she emphasized.

“And who is to live in this house?”

“Me!” exclaimed Pip. “You.” He pointed at Reed. “Eve,” he said, indicating his sister.

“And Mama and Papa,” she concluded.

“Then it must be a very big house if so many of us are going to live in it.”

They spent the next few minutes stacking blocks, with Reed pointing out various rooms in their structure.

“This should be the library,” he told them. “It should be one of the biggest rooms in our house because books are important and we’ll have lots of them.”

“Read!” Pip cried, getting to his feet and collecting a book, bringing it back and handing it to his uncle.

“You want us to read this one, Pip?” he asked playfully.

Pip nodded solemnly and Eve said, “I like this one.”

“Then it is the one we shall read together.”

He leaned his back against the wall as Pip crawled onto his lap and Eve snuggled close next to him. He loved the smell of these children. They smelled of innocence and happiness and he believed his best times were spent with them, which is why he longed for children of his own.

Reed began reading aloud to them, changing his voice for the different characters as Eve liked him to do. He prompted Pip on when to turn the page and as the last page appeared, he finished the tale and proclaimed, “The end.”

Both Pip and Eve clapped in delight and Reed glanced up to see Pamela and Drake standing in the doorway. They both wore indulgent smiles.

“It is time for us to go home,” Pamela called out. “Tell your Uncle Reed goodbye.”

Eve wrapped her tiny arms about his neck and squeezed. “I don’t want to go,” she said stubbornly. “I want to stay here with you, Uncle Reed.”

“Me, too,” echoed Pip.

Reed glanced to his sister, who shook her head. “Here we do all the work and you get the credit of being the favorite,” she teased.

He came to his feet, bringing both children with him, scooping them up so he held one in each arm.

“I would enjoy having you stay but I am leaving Boxwell Hall,” he told the pair.

“Where are you going?” Eve asked.

“I am going to see some friends and spend time at their house. They have other friends who will be there so I will get to meet new people and make new friends.”

Eve looked at him a moment and said, “Are you going to get married like Mama and Papa?”

Already at four years of age, his niece was a smart one. “If I like any of these new friends, perhaps I will. But she would have to be very special,” he added.

Eve nodded in agreement and then said, “Can we come to the wedding?”

He laughed heartily. “I would never dream of marrying without you and Pip there. Your mama and papa are also invited whenever that happy event takes place.”

“Good,” she proclaimed.

They left the nursery and he carried the children to the waiting carriage, kissing them both soundly on their cheeks and promising he would see them soon. Shaking hands with Drake, he then turned and embraced Pamela.

“I do hope you will find someone at this house party,” his sister said softly. “I want you to be happy, Reed. All you have done is work, work, work ever since Papa died.”

“I will be gone from the estate so I won’t be able to work,” he declared. “My job will be to seek a viscountess.” He kissed her cheek. “I hope the next time I see you will be for my wedding.”

“I will pray for that each day, my sweet brother. And for the right woman to recognize just how wonderful you truly are.”

He led her to the carriage and handed her up. “Safe travels.”

Reed closed the carriage door and stepped back. He waved as they departed and stood watching until the coach turned from the lane onto the main road. Turning, he walked slowly back into the house and his study. He took a seat behind his desk.

And hoped when he returned to Boxwell Hall, it would be as an engaged man.

Love be damned.